Our second trip to Kennecott Mines National Historic Landmark and Wrangell-St. Elias National Park.
In 2007, I made the decision to pack up everything I had and take a job in Alaska working a rotational job in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. I didn’t know anyone, and had no idea what I was getting into. I moved from an office job in Seattle to a field-based job in the arctic. I can say, without a doubt, it absolutely was the best decision I ever made. And not only for myself, but for others I have met along the way, there is an enduring mystique about the land that is still dubbed: The Last Frontier. Wherever I go, I get peppered with questions about what it is like to live and work in Alaska. Some of my novels are based on adventures I have had along the way, but others are based here in the 49th State. While I have lived here almost 13 years now, I am amazed at how much I still don’t know about one of America’s youngest states.
My Alaska Adventures have become the inspiration for so much of my writing (as you’ll see below), and yet I am blown away by how much I don’t know.
A particular piece of writing advice that writers hear time
and time again is:
WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW.
I think we can all agree that this is a bit misleading, and
really, not very well defined. My perspective is that it means to write from
your life’s experiences and passions. When George Orwell wrote the War of the
Worlds, I don’t think he knew first hand anything about alien invasion, but he
understood people. Ernest Hemmingway wrote incredible novels based on his life
experiences as an ambulance driver during WWI. Charlotte Bronte wrote
passionate Gothic Romance based on her hardships and privations as a child
raised in a poor, rural English parish in the mid-1800’s.
Historical Fiction has always intrigued me, as well as historical non-fiction. It is fascinating to read about characters from the past and imagine what their lives must have been like. We can’t really KNOW what it was like to live in their time and walk in their shoes, but we can research and Imagine.
Pressure gauge on boiler in the old power plant at Kennecott
In my quest to write a series of both contemporary and
historical fiction about Alaska, I have been visiting some of the lesser known
historical sites. This trip, we went back to Kennecott, AK. This copper mine in
Wrangell-St. Elias National Park operated from 1911-1938. It produced 200-300
million dollars’ worth of copper and silver (4.5 tons of copper ore). Owned by
the Kennecott Syndicate, a corporation formed between the Havemeyer,
Guggenheim, and J.P. Morgan Families, it operated 363 days a year. A 96-mile
long railroad project costing $23 million was built from Cordova to Kennecott
to bring the ore to market. Deemed the Can’t Run and Never Will Rail Road
(Copper River Northwestern Railroad—CRNW RR), it ran until 1938, until the mine
was shut down.
Rail trestle over the Gilhana River. Part of the CRNW Railroad from Cordova to Kennecott. One of the few sections still intact.
My series a Copper Year is set in the roaring 20’s. It’s a
story about a young woman who survived the horrors of WWI France and travels to
Kennecott to work as a nurse. The novels are about her journey from Europe,
across America to Alaska. It then will detail the life of a single, female
nurse in a camp dominated by men. The societal expectation being that she
wouldn’t stay single long. She would find a good husband and settle down,
putting her career aside to raise a family (apparently, they had a rule that
once a woman got married, she could no longer work). No one really takes into
account if that is what she really wants.
This story was inspired by two ideas. One my own work
experience as a woman in engineering working almost always only around men.
Then also my research into the archived pictures of Kennecott. While most of
the women who got married were named in the photographs, the unmarried nurses
were just labeled “unknown nurse.” It was a symptom of the time in which they
lived. They weren’t considered a critical part of the story until they found a
man to marry. Otherwise, they merely faded into obscurity. This gave me the
idea for creating a romance around one of these “unknown women.”
Part of my research has been to dig into not only the photo
archives and written history, but to take actual trips out to Kennecott and do
tours to learn what life was like for the people who lived and worked at the
mines. It is fascinating to learn about day to day life at the mining
operation. The park rangers give daily talks about camp life and the people who
lived here.
Concentration Mill at Kennecott. At 14 stories tall, considered to be one of the largest free standing wooden structures in the world. It has metal buckles throughout to tighten it down from all the vibration.
We have also taken multiple tours of the Concentration Mill,
Power Plant, and Leeching Plant. These tours can be booked through St. Elias
Alpine Guides. They do a great job explaining some of the back history of
Kennecott and the purposes of the various buildings.
While my story A Drink of Darkness is currently set in
Dawson City, I plan on expanding the series to Kennecott eventually (rap wood
it gets that far). In this case, I will have my immortal vampires Eve, Bianca
(and others) who masquerade as “Ladies of the Night,” showcase the rowdy town
of McCarthy. Sitting at the toe of the root glacier, 5 miles away from
Kennecott, it was also the turnaround point for the CRNW Railroad. Kennecott
was a “Company Town,” owned by the Syndicate, with strict rules, and
technically dry. McCarthy was a boomtown that sprung up to cater to the whims
of the working men. Complete with bootlegging and brothels, a man could work
months for his pay check, walk to McCarthy, then be back at the mines in a week
or two, having blown it all.
My contemporary horror novella (currently available on Amazon), The Dark Land is also set in the area. This novel was inspired by the remote wilderness areas of the park, and local Athabascan Legends.
The Legend of Alaska’s Headless Ravine is steeped in blood. It’s hunger for human flesh never sleeps, even in the deepest cold of winter. Skill, courage and lover will be stretched to the limits on the isolated boundaries of The Dark Land.
Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for more book reviews and Alaska adventures!
The summer Solstice is a special time here in Alaska, filled with parties and festivals. We hold our long, beautiful summer days dear to our hearts. Especially since we know the dark, cold days of winter are coming.
For Solstice, Ray and I typically head out to the cabin in Chicken. Solstice weekend is traditionally the Dust to Dawson bike ride and Chicken is one of the safety stops. It is fun to see motor cyclists from all over the world ride through on their way to the poker tournament in Dawson City, YT.
This is what originally inspired the idea for my writing prompt and to have DK Marie’s character, Liberty meet mine in Chicken, and run the bar.
Here is last weekend’s story compiled as much as I could find of your tweet’s. Thanks everyone for participating. I will chick in as much as I can before we go off the grid for the weekend. Run wild with the prompt and have fun with my theme:
SOLSTICE!
Shannon
Flattered by the
attention from this hot, young guy, she couldn’t take him seriously. She
smiled, and tried to brush him off with a light remark about her age.
“You’re not old,” he said, “you’re vintage.” The ways his
eyes swept over her made her reconsider his intent.
An ancient heat in
his amber-brown eyes ignited a spark in her very core. “What I lack in
‘age’ I make up for in experience.” He took her hand and pressed it to his
lips, letting his breath linger against her skin.
he young Adonis on the porch assumed a
casual stance, leaning against the post, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. Her
eyes drifted down to his hands, and she couldn’t help noticing how nicely his
jeans fit. Shannon felt her face flush as heat spread through her
He basked in the
heat from her lovely gaze. He turned his head at a low growl and a noise from
the woods behind them. He gave a wolfish grin at his brother who scowled and
walked toward the bar. “That’s my brother. Don’t mind his ill manners.
He’s not very social”
Shannon could barely look away, but she
glanced at the man walking toward the bar. From where she sat, he looked at
least as delectable as his brother. Something in his lithe movement made her
heart beat faster. If there was nothing else about Chicken, god the scenery was
awesome
Returning her gaze to the young man in
front of her, she asked him if he lived here. “Sometimes,” he
answered, with a lazy grin that sent a shiver up her spine. She indicated the
spot next to her, inviting him to sit. “Can I get you a drink?” she
asked. “Or anything?”
Liberty
She stepped from the airport doors &
paused. The heat was unexpected. Where was the cold & fog? She looked up
& read the sign. Yup, Alaska. Liberty shrugged & searched for Ashley,
figuring this would be one surprise among many.
“Liberty!” Ashley shouted over
the throng of tourists. She rushed to her friend and wrapped her arms around
her. “So glad you made it. I have so much to tell you. We’ll grab lunch
then head to Merrill Field. Sam’s getting the Beaver ready to fly us back to
Chicken.”
Always a sentient
woman,all it took was a loving, emotional hug to know something was different
with her friend. For now,they’d hold tight to their secrets &focus on the
glow of seeing each other after too many passing seasons.
The Beaver swayed on
the gentle wind blowing off the inlet as Sam lifted the plane into the Alaska
summer sky. “Should be clear skies all the way to Chicken. We’ll Fly right
by the Matanuska Glacier.” Ashley smiled to see Liberty’s face pressed to
the window
Liberty tried to enjoy the wonderful
Alaskan view but if they didn’t land soon they’d need a doctor and cleaning
crew. Her nerves and belly didn’t agree with the dips and dives of the
single-engine plane.
When the little plane landed, Liberty
ran outside, wanting to embrace a tree and kiss the ground. Never again. When
it was time to leave Chicken, Alaska, she was going to walk to the main,
international airport.
Random
Cecelia shifted in
her seat and bit down hard on her lip. The #heat created
between her thighs from Lavonda’s delicate touch set her heart
pitter-pattering. Embracing in a corner booth and distracting the other patrons
from Alexis who was emptying the register.
Once Lavonda and Alexis
had cleared out, taking the #heat with
them, Cecelia went up to the bar to order a scotch. She paid with some of the
very same coin they’d lifted together.
Ashley and
Aleksander
Everywhere Aleksandr
had kissed her, #burned. Not like fire, more like an intense #heat that
turned her on still. Ashley tried to get him out of her mind, yet the #respect he had shown her left her stunned. “Get it together girl.”
Ashley realized the
heat wrapped around her was no dream. She she felt no shame about her
dishabille, his dark wings covered them both as they lay on her bed.
“Aleksander,” she snuggled into his arms. “I’ll have to leave
the door open all the time.”
Natasha walked
though the airport & ran his fingers thru his dark hair. He looked out of
place with a fancy suit jacket and faded jeans, but he had always been a rebel.
“Flying first class sir?” The lady asked. Natasha smiled “No I like to fly
solo.”
Wow, friends! I have done a basic compilation of the first two weekends of tweets. Good job. We’ve written over 5800 words of a crazy story that actually seems to have somewhat of a plotline. Tomorrow, before Ray and I hit the road for Dust 2 Dawson weekend to head out to the cabin to enjoy the summer solstice here in Alaska, I will add on this previous weekend’s additions. For now, I thought I would re-post this along with this week’s prompt word. For those of you following along (and wishing to jump into the insanity next week), read-on below.
Sign behind bar
Aleksandr Devir rode his
Harley down Taylor Highway at a comfortable speed. The lightening dawn
approaching lent a kind of eerie spectacle to the surrounding landscape and the
chill wind swept his long raven hair back like a flag in a hurricane. He wasn’t
in a rush, god knew he had enough time, being immortal and all. His real name,
given to him by God when he was born out of the void, was Azrael and he usually
tracked down those that had truly offended his father, and dealt with them.
Often called the angel of death, that title really got misconstrued as the
centuries went on. He was more of God’s hound — killer hound, but hound all the
same. He was on his way to Dawson for the annual ride and decided to go through
Alaska instead of through Canada. He was on a Harley-Davidson FXDWG, the Dyna
wide glide, and had been riding for days through this beautiful country side.
He had never been through this part of the state before, usually staying around
Anchorage, but he had to admit, it was breathtaking.
Probably stop at
the next town, what was it called? Oh yeah Chicken…hilarious, he thought,
as the sound of Hold On Till May by Pierce the Veil came over his I-Pod. He hit
the throttle and speed off, faster than he had been going, just to get the rush
he so craved. As an angel he had to get his thrills where he could, mainly
because most other forms of thrill seeking failed to get his blood pumping —it
was hard when you didn’t have blood. He smiled at his own joke and took the
turns like a pro. I hope there are some
women in this little town I’m travelling to, I could use some distraction, he
thought as he climbed a hill and saw the glorious horizon. The sun was coming
up and it reminded him of the first sunrise; hell, they all did.
Aleksandr
parked his bike. He was travelling
to Dawson, & stopped here for some fun. He saw a women with wheat blond
hair blew her a kiss as walked in the
bar. He had to hide his smile, as she
looked at him; he loved doing that.
Arrival
Ashley smiled as the 3 British
tourists raised a toast in libation to her. She nearly dropped the bottle when
she looked to her left. “Sam! You-you trimmed your beard!”
“So?” He replied, pouring himself a beer. “You haven’t trimmed
that since-you look almost hot”
* * *
“Can I at least get one of my B’s in?” Butler asked
over the radio in their helmets.
“We’re on a mission, which B do
you-” Gentleman began, but Butler cut him off as he pulled into a little
bar’s parking lot, yelling his reply at the top of his lungs.
“BOOZE!”
It was already too late to argue.
Pulling a quick 180, Gentleman sidled alongside his brother.
“Just one pitcher.” Butler
chuckled. “I need to keep up appearances.”
It was as good as any place to get a
feel for the locals, Gentleman Begrudgingly concluded. “Already my kind of
place.” The boisterous spy snickered as he peered up at the ceiling, and
the rather shredded underoos.
* * *
Aleksandr walked up to the bar &
looked at the woman behind the counter. He needed to quench his thirst & he
needed a drink too. “What can I get you?” she asked “Beer is
fine. By the way gorgeous, what do you work till tonight?” he asked with a
smile.
Before Ashley could reply, her
brother Sam nudged her aside.
“What can I get you?” he
asked, eyeing the mysterious dark haired man.
“Just your ale on tap,
friend,” he answered easily in return. He took his beer and headed out
onto the porch.
“Really Sam? Are you going to
do that to every guy that comes in here?”
“Ashley, he didn’t want just a drink from
you.” Sam retorted.
“Come on Sam. You know guys
don’t look at me like that. Not even Mike,” her voice trailed off as she
rubbed the scar on her shoulder. “That’s why he wanted to get rid of me.
Replace me with something better. But now I’m free and he’s in jail.”
“Ashley, you’re too sweet. You
don’t know how guys are.”
“Sam, you’re too protective,
give me some space. I’m a grown woman.”
Sam sighed. Ashley was right, he needed to
stop worrying. She was a grown woman, able to make her own choices. And that
Aleksandr guy didn’t seem half bad. He was startled out of his reverie when Aly
brushed by him, a veiled smile on her lips.
“C’mon, let’s Go!” Butler encouraged, heading
towards the woman behind the bar.”Psst, Hey, bro?” Butler whispered
to his companion. “Let me do you a solid. That bartender kinda looks your
type.” And once more Gentleman was too late to stop Butler, who slid in
beside Sam, flexed his arms so his temporary tattoos were prominently
displayed. And no sooner did he shove a spearmint gum in his mouth, than he
winked, blew a kiss, and asked the man, “So, sailor, been waiting long to
find a port to slide your sub into and release your sea-men?”
Sam winked at Ashley as he draped his arm
around the guy who’d saddled up next to him at the bar. “Those are some
purty tattoos, maybe I can buy you a libation, take you out to see Toad. He
gets really lonely out there on his claim. Loves nice young tourists.”
“I,” Butler stumbled over his tongue. “I honestly
did not expect a counter offer like that.” He admitted. “But, if
you’re still offering to offer a drink, I won’t decline. Just be advised, I
have a very high tolerance to roofies.”
“And yes.” Gentleman added as he ordered a shot of
black label whiskey or scotch. “He knows from experience.”
Sam shouted over his shoulder toward the
deck, “Hey Toad! I got somebody I want you to meet. I’ll even buy you a
shot!” A shadow crossed the doorway as a man shambled into the bar. His
once mountainous frame weathered by age and hard work. “Why don’t we go
outside and chat sonny”
Ashley handed Sam a bottle of Yukon Jack. Toad was already on a
roll before they even got onto the porch. “Alaska was different in my day
kid…” Ashley gave his companion a grin as she poured. “Don’t worry.
Toad will just talk his ear off and make him drink that gut rot booze.”
“Oh, I’m not worried for my ‘Friend.'” Gentleman said
softly, saluting their exit with his drink before he sipped at it, letting it
rest on his lips and tongue. “My pal is a very extroverted Texan from a
rancher family. All that talking might make him homesick.”
“Well, then Toad will have an audience after his own heart.
Hope you weren’t planning on going anywhere soon. Once he gets going, it’s hard
to make him stop.” She put the bottle away and began washing glasses
behind the bar.
As predicted, Butler poked his head back
inside. “Do you have any white Tequila?” He asked. Gentleman,
meanwhile, smiled into his shot, shaking his head. “Charming decor.”
He noted, as he doled out the payment for a round for all. “Reminds me of
my college years.”
Ashley shrugged as she poured the Patron Silver then took them
out onto the deck. She gave a gracious smile to the dark-haired man who took a
seat at the back. “What college did you go to where they stapled panties
to the ceiling?” She asked coming back into the bar
Aleksandr watched her walk away &
sighed. Without a soul, things were harder to get over & her smile would be
with him for decades. He got up & followed her, clearing his throat.
“So miss?” he asked, “Are you free later? I would love to take
you…out.” he said coyly.
Ashley resumed washing glasses behind the bar. This guy had to
be messing with her. “Out?” She asked smile growing wider. “Just
where do you think you will take me? It’s not like there’s a drive-in around
here.” She paused. “They still have those, right?”
He leaned on the bar, her smile like a drug. “I am being
perfectly serious. And I thought we could take a ride on my bike and see the
sunrise. It’s one of my favorite things to watch…besides you walking away.”
His wings ached to release, yet he kept them in.
The intensity in his gaze made her fumble
with the glass. She smiled back at him, body inexplicably hot. “Ha-have
you seen the Lost Chicken Dredge?” Why am I stammering? She took a breath,
willing herself to pull it together. “We could ride to the trail head and
walk to the view”
“I would love that. It’s
been awhile since I’ve had a good walk, & never with one so gorgeous.” He
drank his drink & slid his hand over hers, raising it to his lips. He
kissed her hand gently, blessing her silently as he did. “I’ll just hang out
over there till you’re ready.”
Although he pretended to study his glass,
Gentleman was instead following the reflection. Whomever the strange man was
who had practically seduced the bartender, he wasn’t local. The speech pattern
and mannerisms were straight from a far older period.
The emergency scanner sounded. Ashley
muttered, “Oh no.” Already picturing the scene as she read the
accident report. MOOSE COLLISION, RV, FUEL TRUCK, DRIVER TRAPPED MP50 TAYLOR
HWY She donned her jacket as she shouted for Aly in the cafe.
She sent the response: CKN EMT ENRT
“Aly, you’re in charge. We gotta go.” She gave her
would-be suitor a peck on the cheek. “Sorry. I’m going to have to bail on
our date. I just hope to God we get there before that fuel ignites.” Sam ran in tugging on his coveralls. “Luke and
Toad are loading the extractor in the wagon. We’ll follow you and Toad in the
firetruck. Tok FD and troopers are 2 hours out” “Gotcha, let’s roll.
Sounds a bad wreck.”
Aleksandr hid his smile. She had said the right words. He closed
his eyes, still feeling her kiss in his cheek, and concentrated on the
surrounding area. There. He could see the RV and with a thought cleared the
roads so they could get there.
As an aside he also shut the flames down a
tad so they would get there before it went up. The people would be saved, all
thanks to his gorgeous date. A date he still planned on having come heaven or
his brother’s realm. “Oh my Dad she is hot.” He said as he followed them
*****
Having already settled the tab, Gentleman waited until his
subject of interest had left the building before he stood and walked to the
exit. Butler was close by, a look of genuine regret on his face.
“So?” Gentleman asked politely, noticing that Butler’s drink was
untouched.
Which meant, he felt he was on duty. “That Toad knows
everything going on around here. He’s got stories going back generations.”
The Butler paused to wipe a tear from his eye. “It was like the old
ranchers back home. I gotta hang out more with him. What did you find?”
“Something, suspicious, in mannerisms
only.” Gentleman admitted. “And it looks like he’s enroute to the
urgency. Think we should lend a hand? We are supposed to be incognito.”
Pouring his tequila into a flask, Butler tossed it in the saddlebag.
“I got this.” The ivory skinned partner said. “My
medical skills are superior to yours. Get some rest. Let’s start rotating
shifts.” “Understood.” Gentleman said as he walked towards his
bike, but he paused to caution his brother. “Remember, low profile.”
*****
Bryce was like a kid with a new toy in this
RV thing, Shannon thought, staring out the window, wondering about the lack of
buildings. He spent more time playing with the controls on the dash, than
paying attention to her, or the road.
“Bryyyyyce!” Shannon had shrieked when she saw some huge,
shadowy beast look up from the road, right into her eyes it seemed. She nearly
fainted. Used to her hysterics, Bryce, alas, looked up too late.
*****
It took over an hour of weary, muscle
straining work, but they finally got driver out of the wrecked cab of the semi
and onto the gurney. “Alrighty kids, you guys take care of him,” Toad
said. “I’m gonna start butchering that moose. no use wasting good
meat.”
The lady from the RV burst into fresh
hysterics, “You’re going to eat road kill! That’s-” her words trailed
off into a scream as a low growl came from the nearby spruce bog. Ashley drew
her pistol and fired as the grizzly charged them. “Well, old-timer.
Looks like our night just got a lot longer. You got it in you to
butcher a bear tonight too?” “Nothing like good bear stew to motivate
me baby girl. Let’s get to work. We’ll teach your new cook the in’s and out’s
of game meat.”
Aleksandr pulled up as she drew her pistol & fired. Flashes
of his brother Michael were vivid in his mind as she stood as a warrior. He
eased the bike over and smiled. “Need a hand cleaning and skinning?” he asked,
keeping an eye out for the over protective one. Just in case.
Toad replied for him, as Ashley scanned the
bog, looking for signs of other bear activity. “Always happy to have a
hand, son. How’s about you start on this griz while I work on that moose?”
He nudged Ashley. “The Troopers from Tok should be here soon, get our
driver ready to go”
‘Son’ Aleksandr laughed to himself. He loved when people did
that. “I’m on it,” he said, still looking at the woman. He dressed the bear
forgetting to hide his strength…that is until they were staring. “I…I work
out…”
Ashley threw back her head and laughed, “Apparently! You’ve
definitely earned your portion of the stew Toad’s going to teach Aly to
make.” She went back to administering the IV and fluids to the driver on
the gurney as the Troopers and ambulance pulled into view over the hill.
Ashley spoke to the couple who stood
standing watching the scene, wide-eyed. “You can go ahead and get in the
back of my ambulance; I’ll drive you into Chicken. Luke has a cabin you can
stay in at the RV park. You’re lucky that moose went under the RV instead of
through it.”
Shannon recovered enough to say, “Thank you,” to the
kind, but admittedly intimidating young lady. Bryce continued to stare at the
wrecked RV. Shannon kicked him. “Oh, uh, yeah, thanks,” he stammered.
“Can we bring our bags?” Shannon inquired,
“Sure,” Ashley replied. “Hey
Sam, when you’re done, can you give us a hand?”
*****
Sighing with relief, Butler took his eye off
the scope of his rifle. The other eye had remained open, watching the headset
that broadcast a panoramic view of his surroundings.
While he felt a tinge of respect for the apex predator, Butler
had been prepared to drop it with a .50 cal through the heart had it gotten any
closer to the crew, whom he had come to respect even more as he watched them
work.
His gut instinct told him that those who
inhabited the bar, were no threat to the public, nor sellers nor buyers of any
new recreational drug. That said, their establishment was doubtlessly going to
be the place to look and listen.
Grumbling to himself, the spy made a note on his phone, one that
he knew his compatriots would read. It disgusted him to use the people he had
come to respect, but he saw little choice. “WE BUG THE BAR.”
Confident she was alone, Ashley stripped
down to just her tank top and lace underwear and let the cold water of the
creek rinse away her aches and the reek of blood, diesel and sweat. Weary, she
dragged herself onto the blanket and
detangled her hair. What a night. Did Shannon really have to bitch the whole
way back that the ambulance smelled like diesel? Sheesh.
She lay back, letting the warm sun caress her skin as she
thought of Aleksandr, in his black leather as he dressed the bear. She lay back
and closed her eyes. Just five minutes, she
thought, then I’ll go in. “God, I wonder what it would be like? To be held
be someone with strong arms like that?” She whispered aloud as she drifted
into a deep sleep.
Then she said it…her prayer. He beat his feathered wings once,
twice, drifting over to her & slowly descended down towards her. He kneeled
beside her and wrapped his arms around her gently, startling her but let his
wings show. “It would be heavenly, as a matter of fact.”
Her sea blue eyes widened in wonder. Instead of pulling away,
she reached out with trembling fingers and touched his wings. He noticed the
deep, purple scar on her shoulder as she continued to stroke his feathers.
“What are you?” She asked as he pulled her closer.
He traced her scar lightly with his fingertips, the electricity
of her being arcing through him. “I’m an angel & it seems I may have been
sent to you for a reason,” he said softly, holding her close. She had been hurt
and he knew she needed truth. “I am Azrael, angel of death.”
“Angel of death? So were you there the night he tried to
kill me?” She asked, still touching his wings. She believed him. She
shivered as he pressed her against his body. Was he here to kill her again? She
looked up into his eyes, and saw only desire. Maybe that’s what death was.
“No, I only usher souls to heaven when it’s
their time,” he answered her. Tracing his fingers down more across her tank
top. “If I were, he never would’ve hurt such a beautiful woman in the first
place.” He leaned down then, staring into her sea blue eyes and kissed her
deeply.
Ashley tangled her fingers in his raven hair and pulled him down
onto the blanket on the soft moss by the swiftly flowing creek. Veiled by the
budding rose brambles and willow branches she gave into the healing fire
flowing from his body into hers.
Aleksandr gave in completely, knowing that they both needed
this. He enfolded his wings around her as they came together and he was lost in
her warm soul. Wings trembling, she brought a kind of peace to him he had never
known.
*****
Sam bit his lip and tore his eyes away from the rhythmic sway of
Aly’s hips. He smiled and waved as the group from the night before sauntered
in. “Glad you made it back. Thanks to our accident last night, we’re
serving moose and bear”
“Sure, Chupacabras are terrifying little
bastards with big teeth and nasty attitudes, but they’re also tasty cooked over
an open fire and dipped in BBQ sauce. Pair with a good, dark beer, and you’ve
got a great free-range organic meal.” A tourist from New Mexico joked, chomping
on a spoonful of bear chili as he joked with Toad about Bigfoot and the
Chupacabra.
Shannon sat with Bryce off to the side, listening to the
conversation around her. She heard someone talking about legendary creatures,
and recalled the beast in the road. “They’re probably eating one in their
stew right now, and they don’t even know it.”
A magic silence fell over the bar as Anja
crossed the threshold. “Need drink.” She mumbled as her head spun and
she blacked out. Butler and Gentleman caught her before she fell to the floor.
“Well,” Gentleman whispered as they lowered Anja onto
the floor “Do you think you can keep eyes on you and her?” “Bro,
despite my attitude you know I wouldn’t touch someone without consent.”
Butler replied, playfully disgusted. “I got this.” He added, with a
wink
“Is there an EMT in the house?” Butler yelled.
“Besides me? I’m supposed to be on vacation.” His voice was loud and
sharp, made to command in the heat of battle. Seeing everyone looking Butler’s
way, Gentleman snuck about, slipping microphones and cameras in nooks and
crannies.
“Yeah, let me grab my first aid kit from the back of the
ambulance,” Sam said. ” Why don’t we carry her there just in case.
I’ll help you lift her.”
“Sounds fair.” A smirk crawled its way across the
spy’s face. “We’re getting to be real besties here. I hit on you, you
returned the favor, and now we’re carrying bodies to your car together.
Lift.”
Sam grinned back as they heaved the woman off
the floor and around the back to the ambulance. “Let’s set her on the
picnic table for a minute, while I get the gurney out of the back.”
*****
Aleksandr stood basking in the #romantic encounter with Ashley. A noise made him spin, seeing the #Legendarycretures of old. The Cet’aeni. His wings flew
out as he leapt at the monsters with tails as they grabbed her. “You cannot
have her!”
Ashley dug her nails into the damp moss as a
tail coiled around her ankles dragging her toward the shadows of the forest.
Aleksandr growled in a language she couldn’t understand, wings flaring as he
leapt at the strange creatures. They hissed back
*****
Back at the RV, Butler and Gentleman sat
beside each other. Gentleman was ramrod straight, hands in his lap, while
Butler slouched, his legs wide apart, an open beer hanging from his fingers.
“Are you certain?” A sultry voice
leached from the tablet they talked to. On the screen, Lady adjusted her
glasses as she typed on another computer or tablet beside her.
“Positive.” Gentleman replied. “Butler formed an instant
rapport. Yes, it’s best to let him lead.”
“I understand.” She acknowledged.
“As for the drugs?” “I don’t think we’re going to find them
locally made.” Butler pondered, pausing to sip his beer. “None of the
locals give me the bad heebie geebies.” Nodding her head, Lady concluded,
“Then it’s best to stick around until
the riders arrive and see if the rumors bear fruit. Enjoy and establish until
then.” Then she was gone. Getting up from his chair, Butler tossed his
beer into the refuse and walked to his gun cabinet.
“Plans?” Gentleman asked.
“Establish ourselves better. Join the
EMT’S, and wait for the bikers to arrive.” Butler explained as he
holstered only a shoulder pistol, a gun at his waist, and one on his leg.
“And I’m going to go establish myself.” Butler chuckled.
“And me?”
“Your discretion. How about some urban bonding? Let’s grab
a bite to-” His voice trailed off as he looked out the window. Concerned,
Gentleman was about to investigate when his brother spoke again.
“Are moose supposed to be that big?”
Curious, Gentleman triggered the exterior cameras, and his brow
furrowed in disbelief. “No, that can’t be right.” Gentleman agreed.
“It’s as big as a truck-”
“And it looks really pissed.” Butler concluded as he
ducked beneath the window. “Hey, G?” Butler whispered. “The mess
the other day, they schmucked a moose with an RV…” The .50 cal was just
out of reach. Crawling slowly, he made his way towards it. “Think this
one’s out for revenge?” Butler shrugged, as he inspected the exterior
camera.
Just as the moose lowered its head and charged the closest RV,
flipping it effortlessly, throwing it clear across the park. A snort, and it
turned towards their RV. “RUN!” Butler screamed, throwing himself
towards the trap door in the middle of the floor.
Together, they fell onto the dirt, and
rolled into a depression as the RV disappeared from overhead. Neither spy dared
to move as the moose snorted, paced back and forth, and finally disappeared.
Gasping, the two spies looked at each other.
“I think,” Gentleman said, sitting up, looking at the
distant dented and trashed RV, “We’re going to need some bigger
guns.” For once, Butler had nothing to say.
*****
Smoke rose from Toad’s Marlboro while Sam
helped the two men out of the ditch. Luke scanned the area with his rifle.
“A big moose, you said?” Toad asked, taking the cigarette out of his
mouth to take a swig of Yukon Jack. He proffered the bottle to Butler.
“Yup.” Butler replied before he took the offered
bottle and drained it to the last drop, stopping only long enough to backwash a
shot, which he offered to his brother, who in turn, politely declined.
“Tell me Chicken has a stash of Howitzers, and I’ll sleep
better tonight.” Butler continued.
“Odd though.” Gentleman noted aloud, although he
talked mostly to Sam. “It ignored the bikes.”
“And the cars and cabins.” Sam replied, motioning to
the RV lot, where the two RV’s lay in a heap, but the cars with travel trailers
and motorcycles lay untouched. Campers stood by their tents, gaping at the
wreckage and whispering. “Luke how many more RV’s you expecting tonight?
Toad lit another smoke, pondering the
situation. Sure seems to be a lot of supernatural convening on Chicken in time
for the solstice. First that Aleksandr rolls into town. He remembered him as
Ox, strongest man on the Pedro Dredge back in ’59. There was also a picture of him up at Ft. Egbert in Eagle,
helping to install the WAMCAT’s with old Billy Mitchell. Now the Cet’aeni were
whispering in the shadows, and giant moose were tearing through the 40-mile.
That kid Butler is right. It’s time to bring out the big guns.
After a long pause, Toad laughed and shook
his head at Butler. “Kid, you don’t fight an immortal creature with a
man-made weapon. We need a legend of the forest. Follow me.” Sam and Luke
followed without protest. “You two coming, or what?” Toad called.
Butler only waited long enough for Gentleman to crawl from the
already smoking wreckage. “What took you?” The pale spy asked in
indignation. “I was calling in your loyal steed.” His brother
answered. “Where are we going?”
Butler shrugged. “Probably to challenge my non-existent
religious beliefs. C’mon, we got a moose on the loose.” They hurried to
keep pace.
They were already following Toad to the
creek, but when Sam heard the sound of rapid gunfire, he took off at a sprint.
“Ashley!”
“Hurry!” She screamed back.
*****
Aleksandr threw one skyward as two more
entangled his arm.
“Ashley run…” he said as he grabbed the
throat of one trying to get by him. He threw another into a tree with a
sickening and spun the other away with a buffeting if his wings.
Where was Michael when you needed him?
As the creature released her ankles she
rolled to her feet and grabbed her pistol and a handful of bullets from her
backpack. She dropped six of the creatures then stopped to reload. Three were
still clinging to Aleksandr.
“Ashley!” Sam shouted.
“Hurry!” She cried back plugging 2 more eyeing her from the
forest. Aleksandr bested the ones attacking him, tearing them to shreds. He
moved beside her while the forest grew still once more. At the sound of
footsteps, Ashley lowered her weapon and snatched up the blanket, covering her
naked body. Aleksandr wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her in his
embrace.
“No way,” Ashley whispered, surveying the carnage. “The Cet’aeni
are just a myth. “
“So were angels,” Aleksandr whispered as Sam came thundering in.
*****
“Not now,” Toad clucked at Sam as
he barged into the clearing by the creek, Luke, Butler and Gentleman on his
heels. Without stopping, he crouched down by the creek and reached under his
shirt, pulling out an old golden amulet on a long chain. He held it over the
water, muttering a string of words. He dipped it in the creek and it began to
glow. He extended his weathered calloused hand, and a fair slender limb reached
from the water. To call the ethereal creature that emerged a woman would be a
gross understatement. A river of copper hair
flowed down her back and over her ample curves. The dress of moss green doing
little to conceal her bounty. Her lupine-purple eyes narrowed and she pursed
her lips as she took in the bodies of the creatures on the forest floor.
“Toad,” She admonished, “You should have summoned
me sooner. I didn’t know the Cet’aeni were in this part of my forest too.”
“Yes, and other evil spirits are about,” Toad replied.
“We’ll need your brothers.”
She nodded. Her eyes passed over the group, growing wider as she
took in Azreal’s possessive grasp on Ashley. The girl’s glow brought a gasp to
her lips. What had he done to her daughter? “Leave us,” the Naiad
ordered Toad, gazing at the Angel. Sam took his sister by the arm and pulled
her up the trail toward the cabin. Butler, Gentleman, Luke and Toad followed.
Once they were alone, Aleksandr looked at the Child of Ariel and
smiled. He never thought to see one this far north. “You protect this forest
good lady?” he asked, watching the trail where Ashley went. He was glad that
there were others with Sam to watch over her.
Golden sunlight danced off the Naiad’s
copper hair. “Azreal, did you not know she was one of my daughters before
you lay with her? She was in the gravest of danger before, being only half
human, half immortal. But now your seed grows in her,”
“The Cet’aeni and other evil creatures
can use her to create dark magic. I have summoned my brothers, the men of the
forest to watch over this area until solstice. Someone has unleashed the
Cet’aeni, made it so they are not restricted to the night. The waters are
restless, The Gguux are stirred up and angry, seeking blood. They have
brought me strange things, man made things. I need to find answers for this or
they will start pulling people under.” She shook her head, her dress of
moss fluttering in the breeze. “Something strange is coming,
“Those other two, with their metal
horses. Before you go to watch over Ashley, send them to me. I have questions I
must ask of them of their quest in this region. They know something of the
strange things the men are dropping in the water and hiding in the caves.”
Aleksandr
gaped at her. His child. “I will let them know,” he said in a daze. Would she
live…and half immortal? “Well that would be why,” he said to himself as he
walked back to find the two men. Dad was going to be pissed! Not to mention
Michael, though they would not take her.
“One more thing,” she said, touching his arm as he
turned to go. “Come back here at the sunset tonight. There is to be a
gathering of me and my siblings. we have much to discuss.” We may need
your help, and your brothers to combat the evil that is spreading.
“Most definitely child of Ariel, though they are a fickle bunch.
You have my help regardless.”
“Thank you, Azreal. You have my gratitude
for your help.” She kneeled near the water’s edge, trailing her fingers in
the cool rushing creek. An air of sorrow clung to her as she gazed at the way
the midday lights and shadows danced on the water.
“Dear, whomever.” Butler muttered to his brother as
they walked. “Did you see that ethereal Edna? They don’t make spirits like
they used to.” Gentleman would have rolled his eyes, if they weren’t
already busy looking everywhere.
He had holstered his sidearm, but bad drawn his Ka-bar. Bullets
might fail, but he had a hunch that few things could resist the cold steel of
his combat knife. “Once we recon the cabin,” Gentleman whispered,
“I’m going back for the bikes and bags.”
“Why wait?” Butler asked.
“The cabin’s behind the bar-” “Because part of the recon is
asking Toad and that fellow I found suspicious the other day, what we’re going
up against, and if explosives or your 75 will do anything.”
Butler pondered, chewing his lips. “I see.” He finally
said, but then his humor returned as he asked, “Di you think Lady can find
us some holy relics to bring to this party?” He was only half joking.
He watched from the woods, tongue lolling
from his mouth as he eyed the lovely woman on the porch of the cabin. She
sighed and rested her chin against her hand. The gems on her perfectly
manicured fingers and wrists created a dance of
color. She sighed again and wiped away a tear. He assumed a human disguise. He
had plenty of time until sunset to meet his siblings by the creek. He couldn’t
resist a lonely, classy, beautiful woman. “Well, hello there,” he
said strolling out of the brace of willows. “Are you new to
Chicken? I would have noticed a lovely woman like you before.” He tugged
at his fitted blue jeans, watching the color rise to her cheeks as her eyes
took in his black t-shirt over his six pack abs and the tattoos on his lean
muscled arms.
Startled out of her reverie, Shannon looked at the young man.
Attractive was an understatement! He must take as much time with his attire as
any man in her high society circles. None of them cultivated a look as sexy as
the young man in jeans and a T standing before her, though.
“Just visiting,” she said, with a small laugh. She
knew she didn’t blend in with the Chicken scenery, but the look he was giving
her was completely unlike the raised eyebrows she’d encountered so far. No, his
look she recognized. It spanned class and pedigree. She liked it.
*****
He rolled his eyes as he watched his brother
charm the pretty woman. He growled, shifting from his spirit form of the bear
into a man standing nearly 7 ft. tall. Laughter danced on the air as a gentle
voice said, “Jealous, big brother?”
He turned so see his younger sister, the Spirit of the Still Waters emerge from a pond. She coiled her inky black hair on top of her head, the sun gleaming off her copper skin. She blinked dark jade green eyes at him and said, “Wouldn’t hurt you to cut loose a little too.”
Thanks for reading. Tomorrow morning before we hit the road, I will add in last weekend’s pieces of the story. But the theme for this weekend will be:
SOLSTICE
We’re now hitting our peak sunlight here in Alaska. After this, it’s all down hill as the days start to get shorter again. You don’t have to use the exact word, but just incorporate the theme of the summer solstice. Have fun!
A genre in literature that seems to be really popular at the
moment is “Time Travel Romance.” I think everyone has answered the question,
“If you could go back and meet one famous person from the past, who would it
be?” I think that is the beauty of not only the idea of time travel, but
Historical Fiction in general. The chance to imagine what it would have been
like to meet the heroes of the past. We cannot travel back in time, so we use
our characters as a means to interact with our heroes and idols vicariously. In
my current work in progress, a Historical Fiction titled A Drink of Darkness, I
do some of this. I detail some of the history and people of the Yukon Gold Rush,
having my fictional characters meet with real people from history.
I had the great fortune to beta read Danielle Ancona’s By Immortal Honor Bound, a Historical Romance last March (now available, see link below). Her novel puts a twist on Angels, Gods, Demi-gods, and Alchemy. Danielle and I met via social media, and both have a strong interest in STEM. I promise that my detailed review will be coming soon.
After reading her novel, I asked if it would be okay if I wrote a short piece inspired not only by her work, but one of my heroes from the past. Here is my take on her male protagonist, Malachi meeting a famous character in history outside of Danielle’s novel.
She beamed one last broad smile at Malachi as Fred extended
his hand to help her onto the Electra’s silver wing. She mouthed, “Bye!” and
climbed up.
“Goodbye Amelia, may Hermes and Nike bless your journey, and
see you safely to Howland Island,” he whispered to himself as he smiled and
waved his goodbye in return.
The steady 10 knot wind whipped their flight suits in the
morning sun as they climbed in the plane. Everyone moved away as the Lockheed’s
engines roared to life. The propellers blurred and hummed in the morning wind.
The plane bounced along the rough tarmac, making a brief
circle, then picking up speed for its take off. The heavily fueled plane
gleamed in the sun like a silver coin as it lifted from the ground, speeding
the two brave souls within eastward on their historic journey.
Malachi stood with the assembled group of workers,
reporters, airmen, even local New Guinea tribesmen watching as the Electra
became nothing more than a dot on the horizon. Malachi’s own back throbbed, as
his angel wings ached to span and soar into the sky after her. To be free on
the morning wind, gliding over the deep blue Pacific. His heart swelled with
pride, watching these brave humans achieve something that made both the
Celestials and the Seraph jealous, the techniques and skills of flight.
Something in the past reserved only for the birds and immortals.
Though Amelia wasn’t the soul he had been searching for these last four centuries, it had been a true pleasure meeting and getting to know the bold and charming female aviator. He had many reservations about this plan to fly around the world at the equator, especially after her last crash in Hawaii. But he couldn’t dissuade her.
A peal of familiar laughter on the wind raised his hackles. A shiver ran down his spine. He turned to see
Gideon standing behind him, silver eyes scanning the skies as he shook his head.
“When will these foolish mortals learn,” Gideon asked,
toying with a length of something in his hands. “Flight is only meant for those
who can take the fall.” The rage that had been boiling in Malachi’s guts turned
to ice when he recognized what Gideon held in his hands. A length of antennae—from Amelia’s plane? No!
Malachi looked back to the sky, heart pounding. The silver
Electra was no longer visible against the broad expanse of blue. Malachi sent
out silent prayers not only for Amelia’s sake, but to Thot and to Raphael,
letting them know of Gideon’s presence on Lae.
“What have you done?” Malachi demanded.
“Me—nothing. It’s
not my fault the tarmac here is so rough. Or that you had to just get involved
with and bring your curse upon her
mission. And it’s not my fault she is so eager—so desperate to be the first
that she left behind the CW Transmitter equipment in Miami to save fuel. It’s
her own pride that will be her downfall, like so many zealots. Not. Me.” His
smile smug as he twirled the antennae like a baton. “Go ahead, Malachi the
Fallen. Do it. Draw your sword. Try to strike me down here in front of all
these people,” Gideon challenged.
Malachi seethed, hands itching to either draw his sword or
materialize flame against the leader of the Seraph. As it was, they were
getting sidewise glances not only from some of the remaining airmen on the
tarmac, but several of the local tribesmen. They whispered in low voices in
their unique dialects, pointing at the two angels as they squared off in the
morning sun.
“You won’t win this, Gideon,” Malachi insisted. “When will
you see that all of your Seraph plans to stifle human innovation have failed? I’m
not the Fallen, you are.”
“Please. Your arrogant Celestial leaders are green with envy over human flight. When DaVinci dreamed up his flying machine in the Renaissance, even they hoped he was just a one-off.”
“They were obviously wrong, as are you,” Malachi said, hands
on his hips.
“Well, good luck scouring the Pacific,” Gideon said, tossing
the antennae in the air. Malachi caught it as Gideon turned and melted away
into the nearby foliage.
Malachi clutched at the piece of wire, heart aching. Amelia, no. He thought to himself as he scanned the skies once more. Head hanging low, he walked toward the ocean, willing Thoth and Raphael to meet him.
Is it my fault? Is she
going to die now because I reached out to her, hoping she was the one? Should I
have backed away when I realized she wasn’t?
He crouched down near the water’s edge watching the waves
wash back and forth.
“It will be alright, old friend,” a voice said, as a hand
touched his shoulder. He looked up to see Raphael standing over him. “This is
not your fault.”
“I want to go after her, at least help her,” Malachi said,
broad muscled hands motioning eastward.
Raphael closed his eyes. Malachi’s heart sunk.
“Her fate was cast long before you met her,” Another voice
answered in his stead, “I know it hurts, but you may not intervene.” Malachi’s
head swiveled to see Thoth standing to his other side, but not in his usual
form, with his hooked Ibis beak-head. He stood before him, as a human Guinea
tribesman shaman. Crimson, blue, black and white paints obscuring his face,
dark skin gleaming in the bright sun.
Malachi dug his fingers into the wet sand, biting his
tongue. He looked skyward once more.
The elaborate bracelets adoring Thot’s wrists rattled as he pointed
his hand in the direction Amelia’s plane had disappeared. “Fear not. You
answered Gideon correctly. While Amelia will perish, her spirit will not. Her
legend will live on. Men and women alike, will be inspired to innovate and take
to the skies.” His voice softened. “Nike will smooth her passing, and escort
her personally to Hermes who has already built her a throne so she can sit
beside him in the heavens.”
“Can I at least—see—” Malachi began to say.
“No,” Thoth, God of Judgment decreed. “You must trust in
this.”
Malachi nodded, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked out over the ocean. He and Raphael stood vigil together on the beach until the rest of the world heard the news they already knew. Amelia Earhart’s plane had lost radio contact, and had never reached Howland Island.
I have always admired Amelia Earhart. A true pioneer, and a
woman far ahead of her time. More than 80 years after her plane disappeared
over the Pacific Ocean on the last leg of her attempt to circle the globe at
the equator, it is still one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of the 20th
centuries.
Inspiration for this particular scene came from a video of
her last take-off from Lae, New Guinea on July 2, 1937. This video shows both
Amelia and Fred fit and smiling as the board the plane and take-off. Through
analysis of the video, there is some thought that she may have lost her belly
antennae mast during the take off over the rough runway. There were reports
that a length of antennae was found on the runway sometime after. This would
have potentially contributed to her inability to receive clear voice radio
messages. She also left behind critical CW transmission equipment, as she and
her navigator were not proficient in its use, in an attempt to save fuel. These
and other factors contributed to their inability to reach Howland that fatal
July.
I first read about the analysis of the video here on the Tighar Project website, but the video was difficult to view/download.
My favorite Amelia Earhart tribute song from when I was a teen. Hey, had to include this as it fits with both Danielle’s book and my article. Enjoy rocking out.
Thanks for reading everyone. My own flight of imagination, The Dark Land is available on Amazon.
The Legend of Alaska’s Headless Ravine is steeped in blood. Its hunger for human flesh never sleeps, even in the deepest cold of winter. Courage, skill and love will be stretched to the limits on the isolated boundaries of The Dark Land.
For those of you that follow me, I often post pictures of
the beautiful winters that we have here in the state of Alaska. I love living
here, and my husband and I often get out into the weather and enjoy what Alaska
has to offer, even in the cold of winter. But we are able to come home to a
nice warm house. There are those who cannot. It’s even more heart-wrenching
when it’s kids who are living out on the streets, often the victims of abuse,
exploitation and trafficking.
Covenant House Alaska
Covenant House Alaska’s mission is not just to give kids a bed and food for a night, but to help these kids find a sustainable path off the streets. They do this through collaboration with other organizations in the community to provide mental and physical health care, job training, and support to these at-risk kids. You can read more about their mission below.
I think many of us as can agree that reading and writing is a form of escape. I know it is for me. I can lose myself in a book or in my writing for hours. It is a way for me to express and deal with emotions that I cannot deal with aloud.
Recently, I reviewed Ryen Leslie’s book, River. Afterwards, I really started to think about who it would resonate with. Some of my coworkers (and myself, indirectly through other charities) are volunteers for Covenant House Alaska. I felt strongly that her YA Fantasy would really connect with these kids. In addition, from my interactions with Ryen, AKA: The Witch, she is always connecting with other writers and offering support through our very unique writing community.
I reached out to Sam Hendricks, of Kyanite Press, and asked if I could buy copies of Ryen’s book in bulk so that I could donate it to the shelter here in town. Sam, being the amazing person she is, was more than happy to work with me. The books will be making their way to Alaska as soon as they are off the press.
Meanwhile I reached out to Alison Kear, the Director of Covenant House, Alaska, and pitched my plan. Ideally, we would distribute the books and see what reaction the kids have. Between the multiple shelters here in town, they have many kids who are avid readers and writers. Many of them are highly creative and write poetry, stories and music there at the shelter. Once the kids have read the books, if they have questions about writing, getting published, or even what Ryen has planned next in her series, we plan on setting up a live chat. This would allow these kids to connect with a newly published author. They can see that the path to publication success can be difficult, it is achievable. We can also help them define success and show them ways to utilize social media to their advantage to market their own ideas. This is in line with Covenant House’s Mission of helping these kids to find a sustainable path away from the streets.
When I deliver the books to the shelter, I plan on doing a Facebook live event, to give the organizers an opportunity to speak to all of the amazing things they do to help these young people. I will be doing blog, Twitter and Facebook posts letting everyone know the status of our outreach writing project.
I am looking forward to seeing how this plays out. If we get
participation (like we hope), I’ll be reaching out to you, my fellow authors.
We’ll share your writing and stories with the young adults at the shelter.
Speaking with the directors of the shelter and outreach center, there is an
interest in just about every genre.
The Outreach Center here in Anchorage also has a coffee shop
that is run by some of the teens at the shelter as a way for them to learn how
to run a business. We plan on doing poetry and story readings to encourage the
kids to share their writing.
Thanks for reading, and I look forward to sharing your writing with these wonderful young adults and encourage them to get their writing out there too!
So a while back I reviewed BK Bass’s The Ravencrest Chronicles. Afterwards I chatted with him about some of his plot points and characters and what his plans were for future novels. One of the characters that intrigued me the most was Helen, the caretaker of the orphanage. When I asked BK what his plans were for Helen and he didn’t have any, I was totally blown away. She has so much potential! So I asked him if he would mind if I wrote something exploring her background.
Of course, it’s difficult writing in someone else’s world, but with a little help and feedback from BK, I was able to breath life into Helen, and (hopefully) not screw up BK’s world of Seahaven too much.
So thanks for letting me take the reigns on Helen, BK. I will definitely write more on her as time goes by. As for everyone else, let me know what you think of my prequel/backstory to BK’s the Ravencrest Chronicles.
BK Bass’s next Chapter in the Ravencrest Chronicles
The Order of the Maiden and the Serpent
She turned the
carved wooden horse and knight over and over in her gnarled hands. The sound of
the rain driving against the roof of the orphanage and the open door of her
balcony competed with the crackle of the fire in the hearth. The low fire in
her room warded off the chill, flames flickering in the night breeze that
carried the tang of salt from the harbor. Not that she ever really needed the
heat, she was always warm, even in her old age. Kholas joked that the fires
burning within her kept her hotter than most women. She always smiled, though
she had never shared a bed with the younger pirate. He was more right than he
knew. She left a low fire burning in the small hearth in her room more for the
light, or if any of the young orphans in her care felt the need to come to her
in the night. She glanced once more at the pool of rain collecting just inside
the door to her balcony. The night beyond was black as pitch, darkness and
sound of pouring rain hanging heavy on her heart.
Yes, nights like these do make our souls
yearn for home, she thought. It can’t
be too many more seasons now, before the Goddess Mayda calls me home. Or she
asks one more lifetime of me. She traced a finger over the horse’s carved and
painted black mane. She smiled at the detail the toymaker had paid to the
steed’s muscled neck and flanks. The silver armor, lance and shield of its
rider gleamed as she examined the exquisite detail. She closed her eyes and
sighed, the long-atrophied muscles of her thighs ached in memory of long rides
on stallions and mares now turned to dust. She set the toy aside on the small
table next to her chair. Her heart throbbed as she eased herself to her feet
and padded across the room to a low cedar chest in the corner. She put her
hands on her hips, examining the carving of an apple tree in bloom against the
weathered wood. She tapped a floorboard twice, one with a knot that looked like
a face of a cat. The ancient floor groaned as the heavy chest slid aside.
Most thought that
her father left her the Inn and she turned it into an Orphanage. She never corrected
them. She was old enough that no one living now exactly remembered when she
came back to Seahaven or how she acquired the inn. It was better that way. Most
people wouldn’t believe the truth anyhow. Maybe young Gareth would. She smiled
to herself again at the thought of the handsome young thief Kholas had brought
her long ago. She was already old when Kholas was in his prime. What adventures
they might have had if she’d met either when she was young.
Using the wall,
she eased herself down to her knees, hips aching as she felt along the floor
molding for the switch. With a practiced flick, the trap door hinged open,
revealing the secret compartment beneath. It was the first thing she’d done
after moving into the old inn, she’d built this compartment. Her green-gray
eyes scanned the various small gilded boxes and bottles along with
leather-bound books in languages few could read anymore. Memories of times
past. Most of little to no value to anyone but her. The stories, magics,
potions and curses contained within would pass away with her; save but to one.
She lifted the
frail yellow silk with shaking hands. Nestled against her old leather tunic,
the sword smiled back at her like an old friend. Gold and scarlet serpents
twined like vines around the scabbard, jeweled eyes twinkling in the firelight.
She wrapped her thin fingers around the ornate handle. Just like the first time
she held it so long ago, it seemed to mold to her hand. She licked her lips,
tasting the salt of blood and sweat as she held on. Her arms twitched with
longing, remembering the times when she had wielded this sword with ease,
slicing through enemies like butter. Mayda’s light and energy pulsed through
her, giving strength to her old muscles as she lifted the heavy sword from the
compartment. Her heart throbbed in time with the Serpent Sword as its energy
flowed through her, rejuvenating her. It whispered to her, its soothing hiss
filled her soul. It reminded her of her purpose.
Shaped like a voluptuous
woman, the Goddess Mayda gazed up at her above her thin, blue-veined hand. The
blazing rubies of her eyes stared straight back into her own, reminding her of
her vow. Mayda clutched a snake between her ample breasts, its body twining
around hers like a dress. Above her head, pulsing to the beat of Helen’s heart,
rested the Serpent Blood Opal. The deep red stone breathed with a life of its
own, giving life to the sword and to Helen.
“Yes, my Goddess.
I will uphold my vow to the order of the Maiden and the Serpent. I will defend
the weak, the innocent. Your spirit within me, I will rejuvenate and restore
the balance when you call,” Helena whispered, stone glowing brighter in her
eyes. “When the time comes, I will test my replacement to ensure they are
worthy of your power and their heart is true, then I will pass my soul onto you.”
She kissed the hilt, finishing her vow, heart aching as memories flooded over
her.
“The Maiden and
the Serpent?” A voice like an angel asked behind her.
Hatha. I should have known, Helen said
to herself, withered muscles too slow to cover the old sword and hole in the
floor fast enough. Besides, who knows how
long she’s been watching me. She always seems to show up on the nights I’m
thinking of this sword. Almost like the Aljini the Hessian’s tell of. The kind
that live in enchanted boxes and lamps. Maybe her spirit is tied to this sword.
Or maybe…the goddess is calling her to it. No, she’s too young for that.
She turned, the old scar on her left ribs giving a sharp twang as she faced the
young waif.
“Why does it
interest you, young sparrow?” Helen asked. “Or maybe tonight you’re a mermaid?
You sure are wet as one.”
The girl shook the
water from her blonde curls. The burlap that posed as her garment dripped onto
the ancient warped wood beneath her bare feet. The trail of water from the
balcony to where the girl stood gave away how the child had entered the room.
Hatha shrugged,
blinking eyes as blue as the glaciers of the lands of the Borska. “You open
that,” she pointed with a tiny finger to Helen’s alcove in the floor. “You look
at that sword.” Hatha shuffled her feet and gazed at the sword again.
Helen suppressed a
grin. So Gareth’s quietest little sparrow had more cunning than anyone thought.
Hatha never spoke much to anyone, maybe a word or two. Helen looked at the
sword again as the Serpent Opal glowed. Perhaps this would be a means of
drawing the girl out of the protective shell she had built around herself.
“Indeed I do,
Hatha. Is this sword the only thing that brings you here tonight?” She looked
the girl up and down, wanting to offer a bed for the night, but knowing that
wasn’t why the girl was here. “Shouldn’t you be out gathering information for
your spy master?”
Placing her skinny
arms on her hips, flat footed, she shook her head. Her
eyes slid away from Helen to the open balcony. The hair stood up on the back of
Helen’s neck as Hatha said, “Secrets.”
“Secrets?” Helen
asked, back stiffening.
“A man in a mask,”
Hatha stared back at the sword. “He told me come. Keep secret.” She put her
finger to her lips.
Helen’s breath
caught as she asked, “A black metal mask? Dressed all in black?”
Hatha nodded,
blonde curls winding tighter as they dried from the warmth of Helen’s fire. She
moved closer to the hole in the floor, crouching down and examining the
contents and then looking at Helen. “He had a sword, but not like that.”
Helen clutched at her
ribs again, the old scar there throbbing again in sympathy with the memory. So, my love, you’re back to see me again
after so much time. She glanced toward the balcony, eyes searching the
darkness. Her body grew hotter her at the thought of him outside in the night,
listening.
“Very well then. Help
an old woman out. I know you’ve been watching me long enough to see how to get
to this,” she motioned to the sword. “Let’s put it back, then put the kettle on
the fire.” The girl moved closer, biting her lip as she gazed at the sword in
the hole.
“Beautiful,” Hatha
said, eyes glittering as she clasped her hands in front of her. “Is the stone
alive? It breathes.”
“Do you want to
touch it?” Helen asked, hands hovering over the cloth, trembling with more than
just age as she awaited her response.
“No,” Hatha
replied, red stone reflecting in her eyes. “Not mine.”
Helen drew a deep
breath. So maybe not now and not her, but
maybe Hatha will lead the next owner of the sword here. Who knows, maybe Mayda
will call her to it later. It may not be the right time. No—that’s not true.
The instant I saw the sword, it called me. Kalana knew it too, and she was
happy. She knew I was destined for it and her long wait was over. She knew I
was her replacement. But maybe this is my sign it is time to share the story.
“Very well then,”
Helen said. The silk rustled as she placed it back over the weapon, sword
almost whispering goodnight. Hatha flicked the switch with her tiny, nimble
fingers and secured the hidden door with ease. Without being prompted, she
touched the correct board on the floor, moving the chest back into place. Helen
suppressed the laughter bubbling up in her chest. The young sparrow had indeed
been watching for some time.
Helen settled back
in her chair. She couldn’t help but admire the little girl’s stealth and grace.
She slunk around the room, light on her feet as a cat. The girl’s angelic face
had fooled many into believing she was too innocent for mischief, a mistake
they would come to rue when they found their pockets or their purses empty
later.
Careful not to
look at the balcony, she said with as loud of a voice she could muster, “Hatha,
I think we should have some sweet rolls with our tea tonight.” The girl licked
her lips and nodded, clutching her hands in front of her skinny body. “Why
don’t you go down to the kitchen. Julla should be finishing up for the night.
Tell her I want two mugs and a plate of rolls.” Her hand shook as she handed Hatha
an ornate brass key from the table at her side. It was more a formality than
for a real lock. In an orphanage packed to the brim of small children who’d cut
their teeth on the streets as thieves and cut-purses, it was nothing to pick a
lock. The key was Helen’s way of letting Julla know a child had permission.
Helen looked back
at the balcony. Before the door had even closed behind the girl, a pair of crimson
eyes materialized in the darkness. Then a face. The red and gold firelight
gleamed off the polished black steel. The frozen smile held no terror for
Helen. Instead it brought a flush of heat to her skin, and her breath came
faster. He stepped into the light, black cloak dripping with rain.
“Good evening,
Your Grace,” he said, doffing his black, wide-brimmed leather hat and bowing
low. She could see hilt of his sword protruding from the top of his cloak, the
simple black hilt made for his long broad hands. The leather and metal straps
of the mask crisscrossing around the back of his head, held down a neat club of
inky black hair.
She smiled,
leaning back in her chair. “Really Rayne? I’ve not been Queen for more than two
centuries.”
The soles of his
black leather boots made no sound as he approached her chair and kneeled before
her. He lifted her hand and pressed it to the lips of his mask. She shivered,
and not just from the cool metal meeting her weathered skin, but the memory of
the real lips behind that mask, exploring her body. She closed her eyes, and
let out her breath in a long sigh. When she opened them, his glowing crimson
eyes stared back up at her through the holes in the mask.
He lowered her
hand but didn’t release it. He continued to trace his leather-clad thumb over
her knuckles. “My Love,” voice low and raspy through the hole at the center of
the lips. “It matters not how many centuries or lifetimes pass. You will always
be my Queen.”
She closed her
eyes at the memories, heart swelling as she thought of the last few times Mayda
had called upon her to regenerate instead of sending a replacement. But Rayne
had been there, the one bright spot in this life of pseudo-immortality she had
accepted as her fate. Mayda had chosen her, and her sister Shayla had woven her
thread. She squeezed his hand in return.
“And you will
always be my Knight and my Love in the darkness. Tell me,” she commanded urging
him to his feet. “What brings you to Seahaven after so many years. You and your
brother, Lord Piotr aren’t exactly friendly.”
“I will never
forgive him for what he did to you,” Rayne growled. She could see the flash of
him baring his long sharp teeth through the hole in the mask. He ran his hands
over the braid wound around her head like a coronet. The once flaxen hair had long
ago turned silver. Helen had seen it happen so many times, she actually looked
forward to it. She felt the color suited her better. “It fills my heart with
terror that you live here in his shadow. He still wants you. Thinks he can
possess you. I fear that he is waiting for you to rejuvenate again. He would
think nothing of using your orphans against you. He sees them and all humans as
merely chattel.” Rayne cupped her face, blinking as he shook his head. “But I
have been summoned, so have others in the family. There’s news abroad. Darkness
is rising again. I came to see—if…” he paused, eyes darting to the floorboards
beneath the chest.
“Yes, the sword
has been awake lately. Calling me,” she admitted. She hung her head and put
trembling hands over her eyes as tears rose. “And I’ve seen no signs that the
goddess is granting me a replacement. I will rejuvenate once more and spend
another lifetime on this land.”
“It will be
alright,” he insisted, kneeling before her again. He took her by the shoulders.
“I wouldn’t have come, if not for you. I wanted to see if—it’s completely
selfish of me, I know—I wanted to know if I would have one more lifetime with
you, or if I would be taking you away to bury you. Then ending my life to lay
beside you forever.”
She removed her
hands from her eyes. Tracing her fingers along the contours of the mask, her
chest heaved as she let out a long breath. Then she smiled down at him. “We
shall find out soon, I suppose, my Love.”
“I must go,” he
said brushing his fingers along her cheek. The fire within her burned hotter at
his touch. It’s as if he can summon Mayda
with his fingers. She clutched her hands against the linen of her olive
dress, remembering their times together. One
more lifetime with him. If that’s the price I pay for serving her, I will
gladly pay it. Thank you Mayda, for sending him to me.
He rose to his
feet and bowed deeply once more. “I will return and bring you news.”
“I thank you, my
Love,” she replied.
“Enjoy your
evening of storytelling. She’s a unique one,” he said, moving across the room
to the balcony like a shadow created by the fire.
“She is indeed,”
Helen replied, thinking of Hatha’s stealth and boldness.
“If I didn’t know
better,” Rayne said as he straightened his hat and disappeared into the falling
rain. “I’d swear she’s one of my kind.”
Helen settled back
into her chair marveling at how he could disappear into the darkness without a
trace. Hatha, a vampire? Yes, she could
see how the girl would make a fine one. She had the stealth and cunning. An
edge of ruthlessness too, unusual for one so young. But the child was certainly
mortal—at least for now.
She pondered the
rest of their conversation while she waited for the girl to return.
So the darkness is rising again. The Ravens
are converging on Seahaven once more. Yes, I can feel it. This is why the sword
called me back to Seahaven so many years ago. I was meant to wait here, watch
and listen. I will have to question some of Gareth’s sparrows. Strange things
are coming.
Hatha returned
with a heavily laden tray. Lingonberry sweet rolls topped with clotted cream
steamed as if Julla had warmed them in the oven. Soft white cheese fresh from
the dairy and slices of pink juicy apples gleamed on the chipped brown plate
next to two heavy ceramic mugs. Helen smiled at Julla’s attempts to fatten her
up. It was always this way when the Serpent Sword slept and she aged. For some
reason food never seemed to cling to her tall, wiry frame, even when she was
young. Now, she was so thin, the floor boards didn’t even creak beneath her
weight. Hatha poured the hot water for the tea while Helen served her a
generous plate of the victuals.
She handed Hatha both
the plate and a thick woolen blanket and motioned for her to take a seat on the
round woven rug in front of the hearth. Helen gathered her thoughts. Hatha’s
piercing blue gaze took in every detail while she huddled under the blanket,
chewing on a sweet roll.
She picked up the
toy Gareth had brought her earlier in the evening. The horse and rider seemed
to take on a new weight. Indeed, this was a night for lost souls to return
home.
Holding the
horseman high, she forced her now frail voice to sound out the words clearly.
“You know how
there’s the great stone walls around the city?” Helen said. Hatha nodded,
cheeks puffed up like a squirrel as she stuffed a roll into her tiny mouth.
“They were built
during times of war, centuries ago. Times of darkness and struggle. Not just
here, but across many lands…”
The Sword Calls
Barges sat low in
Bleakstone Bay, loaded to the brim with pink limestone. The great ships from
the lands of Ciel waited patiently in the spring sun to be unloaded by the
large wooden cranes. Teams of oxen strained up the steep hills of Seahaven day
and night, carting the precious supply of stone. Meanwhile men worked around
the clock to reinforce and repair the ancient wall that protected the vital seaport.
The freshly repaired portions shined in the summer sun like pink pearls in
comparison to the older sections of long-blackened, moss covered stones.
Flags from a
hundred nations fluttered in the wind blowing off the bay, carrying the tang of
salt and seaweed. Their ships laden with soldiers and supplies for the Western
Front bobbed in the high tide, others were moored in the Bay.
Helen gripped the
harness around the brown hog’s fat neck as they waited their turn to cross High
Street. Her eldest brother Maximillian had convinced their father to allow her to
come along with her brothers to take the animals to the butcher to trade for
bacon and cured meats for the Inn. It was always a treat to watch the great
processions go by, even though their purpose in coming through Seahaven was ominous.
The lands far to the west had been at war since just before Helen was born.
Rumors of terrible plague and darkness were whispered amongst the adults. Always
a vital port, Seahaven became a thriving boomtown for supplies within a decade.
The merchants thrived off the war trade and created a self-appointed council of
Barons to manage decisions for trade and roads. Her father, owner of one of the
largest Inns in the new part of the city was amongst them. The decision to reinforce
the ancient wall came from both at home and abroad. Seahaven was too important
of a shipping port for the war effort to allow it to fall to the enemy forces.
“Is it true, Max?
Are we going to get to see elephants?” Helen whispered, craning her neck to look
down the street, standing on the tips of her toes in her brown leather shoes. A
procession of Borska soldiers marched in time with a steady drum beat. Helen
marveled that they weren’t melting in the sun with their heavy leather packs,
fur lined uniforms and beards. The sweat gathered under her armpits and down
the back of her linen dress beneath the strict corset her mother made her start
wearing recently. She couldn’t understand why. At eleven winters, she’d barely
begun to sprout breasts and hips. Helen’s bony ankles poked out from the bottom
of her already too-short skirt. Her mother constantly complained about her
growth spurts that seemed to be non-stop lately. Her brothers called her Twig,
because she had no curves to speak of. She glanced over at her elder sister
Lucilla who’d stood a few feet away, dressed as if she were going to a ball. The
sun gleamed off the coral satin dress Lucilla had worn to watch the processions
of soldiers and supplies. Helen rolled her eyes as her buxom seventeen-year-old
sister batted her eyes at a group of sailors, all the while using her fan to
draw attention to her ample cleavage. The
only reason father lets her come with us is she draws more men to the inn. She
never helps with the real chores.
“That’s what I
heard Twig—oh look! Here they come,” Max said, placing a hand on Helen’s
shoulder.
Helen gasped at
the sight of the line of giant gray beasts. Their jewel spiked tusks extended twelve
feet or more. Large triangular ears flopped as they walked, fanning themselves.
Their long tubes extending from their faces swept side to side as they walked,
the finger like ends probing and sniffing. Their enormous velvet feet made
hardly a sound as they plodded gracefully up the hill. Each creature had two
men clad in white tunics with red sashes holding onto guidelines. A rider sat
high on the back in a peculiar sort of leather seat. The large round wheels on
the carts laden with coal squeaked and groaned under the heavy weight as they
rolled over the cobblestones.
“So, it’s true then,”
she heard her brother Isaack say to Max. “They’re really burning dead bodies at
the front.”
Max nodded, not
taking his eyes of the procession. “Aye, that’s what they’re saying last night
at the council. It seems that if they don’t burn them, they come back and join
the other side in the fight.”
“But how is that
possible?” Isaack asked.
“No one knows.
Dark magic, maybe.” Max said, lips pursed as the last wagon went by. Helen
shivered despite the hot day, eyes darting toward the west. Even with the breeze
from Bleakstone Bay, an ever-present dark cloud hung just above the horizon. The
front was supposedly a month or more march across the mountains and plains, but
the cloud from the continuing battle could be seen on a clear day—a rare thing
in Seahaven, where rainfall and fog were more the norm. Their parents and the
other adults rarely talked about what was really going on with the war, not in
front of the younger kids. They had to depend on sixteen-year-old Max to give
them information, now that he was deemed old enough to be let into the grown-up
conversations. But much of what he heard was still rumor.
Max motioned to
Isaack and Helen, and they got ready to cross, but the soldier directing
traffic held up his hand, motioning for the crowd to wait.
“Wow, another
procession?” Isaack said. “We’re going to be here all day.”
A low tinkling of
bells and crystals filled the air as a procession of cream horses rounded the
corner. The saddles and livery of the steeds were covered in ornate beadwork.
Glittering snakes and fierce voluptuous maidens sparkled in the sun as the
horses pranced along the cobbled street. The most amazing sight of all, atop
the horses were women warriors. Their long hair plaited in beaded braids down
their backs, steel swords flashing against their white and olive uniforms. The
snakes on their green leather tunics almost seemed alive, slithering and
writhing in the sun, red eyes flashing a warning to those watching.
“Wow!” Isaak
whispered to Max. “Did you ever see the like? Women warriors!”
Mounted on a
stallion at least three hands taller than the others at the lead, sat an ebony
skinned woman. Her long, muscled arms gave little doubt to her capabilities in
battle. Her obsidian eyes scanned the crowd as the procession crept along.
Helen’s breath came faster at the sight of her sword. Red and gold jeweled
snakes twined up the sheath. While too far away to exactly make out the ornate
carving of the handle, the round crimson stone pulsed and breathed, seemed to
call Helen’s name. Involuntarily, Helen found herself lifting her hand, as if
to grip the handle of the sword. She couldn’t explain it, but she longed to
twine her fingers around it, feel the metal in her grip. The fierce woman at
the lead pulled on her reigns, the procession coming to a jarring halt. Her
beaded braids sparkled gold, emerald and ruby in the sunlight as she swung her
head. Helen felt the pull of her large black eyes as they found her in the
crowd, but no where near as much as the sword that seemed to still whisper and
call for her. The woman’s lips curled up in a smile, and white teeth flashed
Helen’s way. She turned over her shoulder and said something in a peculiar
language to the women following her. The tinkling sound of beaded braids and
horses shuffling filled the silence as several of the mounted women glanced
Helen’s way.
But all Helen
could do was stare at the sword. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it.
“Helen, Helen!”
Isaack’s voice penetrated her daze just a moment too late. In reaching for the
strange sword, she’d let go of the harness holding the large hog upright.
Taking that as his cue, he decided that the large, deep puddle of mud next to
him would be the perfect wallow to cool himself from the hot sun. With a grunt
and a snort, he flopped onto his side, spattering mud for six feet around.
Lucilla’s shriek
of rage cut through the air as the crowd laughed. She wiped the muck and mud
from her dress and face as she sputtered, “You clumsy little bitch! You did
that on purpose!” Lucilla’s plump cheeks flushed with rage, blonde curls twitching
as she held up her hands, ready to claw at Helen.
“It was an
accident,” Helen insisted taking a step back, planning her escape. “Besides—you
were just going to muck it up anyway behind the stables with the Butcher’s
Boy.” Helen gave the hog a swat with the flat of her hand. He jumped to his
feet and spun in a circle, kicking mud all over Lucilla and snorting while the
crowd laughed harder.
“You’d better run,
Twig!” Max chortled as he held his sides.
Helen dodged
through the laughing crowd. She sprinted toward the stone wall behind her and
scaled it like a spider.
“Just wait until I
tell mother!” Lucilla shrieked from the ground below.
Helen ran along
the top like a cat, not glancing back. Oh
boy. Have I earned a whipping tonight or what?
She swung herself
down over the wall into a back alley that she was sure would lead to the
butcher’s eventually. Lucilla will probably run home and complain to mother.
She sighed, may as well take my time, and
really earn my punishment this time. Father’s probably never going to let me go
watch the processions again.
The sound of
footsteps made her turn and look behind her. The woman from the procession
stood in the alley, hands on her hips, penetrating eyes fixed on Helen. Helen
gaped. On her horse, the woman had been imposing. Standing before her, the
woman was easily the tallest, most athletic woman she’d ever seen. Helen wanted
to be terrified, the woman had come out of nowhere, but as soon as Helen saw
the sword on the woman’s hip, it was all she could think about it. Entranced
she walked toward the woman. The red stone pulsed and breathed at the hilt. Up
close, it was even more alive, more beautiful.
She reached out
her hand, wrapping her fingers around the handle shaped like a voluptuous woman
clutching a snake. The hilt seemed to mold to her hand, gripping her fingers in
return as she made to pull the sword from the sheath. A hiss filled her senses,
calling her name. The woman put a leather gloved hand over hers, halting her
motion.
“Have you ever
held such a weapon, child?” Her voice carried on the air like a soothing melody
played by the bairds that stopped at the inn.
“No,” Helen
whispered. She jerked her hand back, heart pounding. Still, the stone hissed
her name. “I—I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I don’t know why, but I just want
to touch it.”
The woman’s smile
broadened as she looked Helen over. She ran her fingers over Helen’s messy
braid of flaxen hair. “All is well Child. Be on your way. We will meet again
soon.”
Helen nodded, not
sure how to answer as the woman turned away, exiting the alley. Helen walked
down toward the bay and the butcher’s shop, hoping Max or Isaak could help
defend her from their sister’s and their father’s wrath later. Still the memory
of how the sword clung to her hand, molded to her very fingers haunted her.
*****
Thanks for reading, my own adventure, The Dark Land, is available on Amazon:
The Legend of Alaska’s Headless Ravine is steeped in blood. It’s hunger for human flesh never sleeps, even in the deepest cold of winter. Courage, skill and love will be stretched to the limits in the frozen isolated boundaries of The Dark Land
Subscribe to our newsletter for sneak previews and inside peeks at our Alaska Adventures!
Subscribe to my newsletter for sneak previews of the sequel to The Dark Land, Available on Amazon, and other adventures.
I always thought I would have made a perfect spy, if my MS hadn’t got in the way. There were times in my early 20’s when I was still struggling with my diagnosis that I created a sort of alter-ego for myself. The healthy, super smart me, and how she would have kicked a$$ if only given the chance. It was a way of coping when times got tough. Now I still look back at my unique character I created, and I feel like I should probably revisit her. So for my fun group of followers, here is a taste of Daniella the spy-well, her alter-ego Amber that is.
The blue gel ink flowed
across the white page, numbers spilling their secrets. She bit the plastic tip
as she pondered the lines and scratch marks she had created.
There
you go again…sneaky little 2. Always trying to prove you’re better than
everyone. Looking at the way this is going I think your brother 3 is going to
come out on top this time. Won’t that just piss you off? You won the last three
rounds. Can’t you ever let it rest? No, I don’t suppose you can. Just like I
can’t.
She sat back, taking in the whole picture of the equation’s ebb and flow. She, surveyed the battle between the numbers, the story of their little dramas building on the page.
Did
I make a mistake? I don’t think so. The story seems to be coming together. It
makes sense.
She smiled to herself,
thinking of Kayla’s question the last time she tutored her.
“Why do you always use
pen? Aren’t you afraid of making a mistake?” Her smoky-topaz eyes blinked
critically while she played with the small black stud in her left nostril.
“I’m not afraid of making
a mistake,” Amber replied with a shrug. “Mistakes are no big deal. If I make
one, I just cross it out and start over.”
“Yeah, but that’s because you’re good at this,” Kayla had sighed, picking at the burgundy lipstick on her full lips. The glittering green nail polish contrasted sharply with her dark-bronze skin.
“You’re good at this too, Kayla.” Amber replied, tapping the page to get the teen to focus on the problem again. “I’m really proud of your last test score, chica. Can’t wait until you take the AP Exam. You’re going to blow the scale.”
“But not like you. It’s like you’re super-human or something. What’s your secret?” Kayla said.
Amber a hand over her
neat bun of golden-brown hair and bit her lip. “No secret. I just really like
math. Let’s get this done so we can practice your triple integrals again.”
Kayla rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh as she flipped her beaded braids over her shoulder. She picked up her pencil and moved to the next problem.
My secret? Amber thought, looking down at the blue ink spread across the white paper. I stopped telling anyone about that when I was about 5. It’s not like anyone believed me anyway. Mother threatened to have her shrink give me pills if I kept lying. At least the numbers are my secret friends. I wonder if they share their stories with anyone else?
“Miss Schroder?” Amber’s
head jerked up. Her mother’s tennis instructor Wren, stood before her, sweat in
every crease of the woman’s skin-tight, black fitness gear, leaving nothing to
the imagination. The woman’s frequency beamed at her like a spotlight. Amber
blinked and focused, adjusting herself to the intense harmonic of the woman’s
yellow bubbly glow as she internally pictured the woman’s basic equation.
“We’re done with our lesson. Katherine said to give her just a few minutes to
freshen up.”
“So at least another hour
then?” Amber replied with a smirk.
“Maybe two.” Wren agreed
with a nod, chestnut ponytail wagging. She daubed the sweat from her neck with
a towel and sauntered toward the main house of the sprawling Malibu mansion. “Should
I have her assistant bring you something to drink?”
Amber frowned at the mention of Lucius. She’d managed to be left alone for once on her mother’s patio, making it into the house unobserved by the army of attendants and servants her mom kept on staff for god knows what reason.
On second thought, Amber knew the reason. The constant attention her mother needed as a former beauty queen, second rate actress and trophy wife that she didn’t get from her cold, absentee husband. In particular, Amber hated dealing with Katherine’s personal assistant. The man’s frequency drove her nuts. It seemed to slither like a snake into her brain, no matter how much she deflected it. While she could decipher other people’s equations and frequencies easily, the too-good-looking, tall, muscled blonde made her uneasy. His ice blue gaze seemed to read her like a book. His energy pulsed into the ultra-violet and even x-ray range, the intensity made her shudder when he came near. While most people never seemed to notice her, he was always too intimate, trying to get too close at least in her head. She always left his company drained, but she couldn’t explain it.
“No, thanks. I’m fine for
now. If I need anything, I will give Consuela a shout.”
“Okay, great! See you
later Amber!”
“You too.” Amber picked up her pad of paper, shaking off thoughts of Lucius and her mother…for now. She looked around the patio and pool deck of her mother’s mansion. The water gleamed like a turquoise stone in the sunshine. Meanwhile, lilacs, daffodils and tulips bloomed in the careful tended gardens. The California sun beat down on Amber’s long legs. She wriggled her toes against the plush cushion of the lounge chair as she settled back against it. The sprawling complex set against the Malibu hills sparkled in the sunshine. Amber could see the waves from the ocean in the distance below.
Too
bad I just don’t belong here. Being around Kathrine…oh wait…mom, for a few
hours drives me crazy enough. Can’t imagine what living here would do.
She shook her head and went back to what she knew, her familiar numbers. Immersing herself in them, deciphering her own codes, she lost all track of time. Then her hair stood up on the back of her neck as her senses began to thrum.
7
x 1015 hZ—Great, he’s coming.
She set her notebook aside and adjusted her sunglasses. He was just barely coming out of the main house, closing the ornate glass French doors behind him. Already, he was smiling at her. She gritted her teeth calculating his equation and deflecting it.
“Well hello, Miss Sunshine. How was your trip from Seoul last night?” He asked placing his hands on his hips as he stared down at her.
“Long.” She answered,
looking down at her notebook, numbers sprawled across the page. They almost
seemed to be screaming at her in time with his pulses, run!
“I’ll bet,” he replied,
pink lips curling up in a smooth smile. He crouched down in front of her, muscled
thighs straining the seams of his khaki pants as he braced his large hands
against them. His piercing eyes were concealed by mirrored sunglasses. “Your
mother is on her way. Can I get you…anything.”
“I’m fine, thank you,
Lucius. I don’t want to ruin my lunch with Mommy Dearest,” she replied, closing
her notebook and sticking her pen back into her purse. She tugged her linen
skirt down and swung her legs off the lounge chair to the opposite side of
where he now rose back to his full height of six-foot-six.
His rhythmic energy still
pulsed at her, making her grit her teeth, but somehow having a physical object
between them made her feel better. He grinned wider and smoothed the collar on
his sky-blue polo shirt, before placing his hands on his narrow hips. “They’re
setting up lunch for you in the rose garden.”
“Thank you,” she replied, holding her notebook and purse in front of her as she waited for him to lead the way.
****
The ice crinkled and cracked in Katherine’s high ball glass as she raised it to her lips. Her dark lipstick left a red smear against the rim, far too reminiscent of menstrual blood for Amber’s taste. She pushed her plate away, thinking about how erratic her mother’s energy always was, at least until she decided she wanted to discuss something with her. Then she narrowed in like a laser beam, purple-blue waves going for the jugular.
Katherine lowered her large jeweled sunglasses, large blue eyes raking over her. Amber’s spine stiffened as she toyed with her glass.
Here it comes, she thought. She’s been waaaay too quiet anyway.
“I thought I told you
should wear a little more make-up.’ Kathrine said. Amber gritted her teeth at
the catch in her mother’s voice. “Really, Amber? Can’t you just try—A little? I
know you’re plain. But you could put in some effort. How do you expect to ever
catch a man? You’re not getting any younger you know…” Her mother continued to
drone, waving with her heavily spiked Arnold palmer.
Amber focused on the high
ball in her mother’s hands. The glass hummed back at her. She could see Lucius
smirk out of the corner of her eye from where he sat a few feet away typing on
his laptop.
No
use arguing with the trophy wife/beauty queen that maybe some things were more
important than looks. Oh and the fact that I just flew in across the Pacific
Rim after stealing new weapons defense technology software from China. That wouldn’t
make a difference to her either. She thinks I am marketing manager for a computer
company. She drew a deep sigh, the fine fabric of her skirt shifting
beneath her fingers as she clutched at her thighs. The ice in the glass
continued to crackle, the crystal waivered in the sunshine as Amber did her
best to drown out her mother’s cruel words. She felt her own body tense and hum
back in response to the vibrations in the air.
With a loud snap, the
crystal cracked, sending vodka spiked lemonade and tea all over Katherine’s
expensive kelly-green silk jumper.
“Good heavens!” she
shrieked, tossing the remnants to the side and eyeing her hand for signs of
damage. Amber gaped as her mother jumped to her feet, shaking and wiping off
the liquid.
“Are you alright,
Kathrine?” Lucius exclaimed, bounding across the patio and taking her by the
arm. He stood next to Katherine, but gazed at Amber, his lips in a hard line as
he looked her over.
“I’m fine, I’ll change in
a few minutes. We were almost done with lunch anyway.” She snapped fingers and
pointed a blood-red nail at the mess. “Have Consuela make me another, and after
I change, run this,” she tugged at her collar. “To the cleaners.”
“Sure thing, Kathrine.”
He glanced one more time at Amber then headed into the house, pulling his cell
phone out of his pocket.
“Where were we?” Kathrine
asked, smoothing her bun of glossy blonde hair as she settled into a different
plush white patio chair. “That was strange. I supposed that’s what comes from
ordering cheap crystal. I will have to speak to Consuela about that. There must
have been a crack. Anyway, how long are you going to be in town? Perhaps I can
schedule you with my stylist, Shelly.”
“Only today, mother,”
Amber replied, she watched as two of her mother’s staff came out and began
cleaning up the mess. The smell of lemonade and tea died quickly, but the vodka
lingered in the air. Lucius brought Katherine a refreshed high-ball then
resumed his seat at his laptop.
“So you could go this
afternoon then,” Katherine bartered, raising the glass to her lips as she
stared Amber down.
“Actually no,” Amber
replied, sitting up straighter. Katherine frowned, running her fingers over her
forehead as if to smooth the two creases that would have appeared if not for
her regular Botox treatments.
“Why not?” she asked,
lips pursed as she lowered her voice to almost a growl.
“Father has set up an appointment for me with Dr. Meredith,” Amber replied, keeping her voice steady. “He said he’s worried that the VA isn’t giving me the best care. He wants her to evaluate me.”
Kathrine took a large
gulp, draining almost half the glass. The diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist
threw fiery sparkles as her mother’s hand shook. She saw her mother mouth the
name Meridith then bitch. She looked away then back again,
frown erased as if it had never been, frequency shifted once more. Amber’s skin
crawled.
“I suppose that’s only fair,”
her voice dripped with honey, but her brain pulsed with menace. “She’s the most
brilliant doctor in his department. And it’s his fault entirely. He never
should have let you to join the military. Then you wouldn’t have gotten sick
and ended up disabled.”
Amber shrugged, taking a
sip from her own glass, looking away. She
says that like I’m a disgrace, something to be ashamed of. Well, in her eyes I
am. I had the ill manners to be born not as pretty as she was. I deprived her
of her mini-me. Someone to shop with and continue on her legacy of marrying
well…if you consider my father a good choice.
“Where are you off to next for your computer stuff?” Amber refrained from rolling her eyes. At least she’s trying to show interest.
“Paris. I have a technical conference there in a few days.” Amber replied. In her head she added, multiple companies are having a technical conference. I’ll be there seeing what’s worth taking.
“Oh…that’s fantastic. Maybe you’ll have a chance to do a little shopping while you’re there. I can have my personal shopper make some recommendations.”
“Why not?” Amber said, shrugging.
“Why do you always have to be so difficult, Amber?” Her mother asked, rising to her feet.
“I don’t know, mother,” she replied, taking that as her cue she was being dismissed. She gathered her things. “Have her send it to me in an email. If I have time, I’ll check it out. I’m going for work though, not to mess around.”
“I will,” Kathrine plastered on a smile again as she tossed back the rest of her drink. Amber grimaced as Katherine swayed in her heels, wobbling back into the house and slamming the door behind her.
“What?” she snapped at Lucius, who still sat in his chair a few feet away; tanned muscled arms behind his head as he smirked.
“Not a thing, Amber. So sad that you’re not in town for very long. It’s always fun to watch you and Katherine spar.”
“Glad I could entertain you,” she replied as she walked away, heat rising in her cheeks. She resisted the urge to slap the smug look off his face.
I see a lot of people ask what they do to get over writer’s block. for me, I do one of a few things. I read a book and write a review. Or I write a piece of what I might like to call fan fiction. I have met so many talented and wonderful authors through social media that push my writing in different directions it is hard not to be inspired.
This particular snippet was inspired by one of my favorite authors/blogs I follow on Twitter, Rowena Tisdale.
Her sultry and steamy writing, along with her no-nonsense female characters are highly inspiring. It is refreshing to read about women who truly want sex and are not shy about it. It got me to really think back to my early twenties where for lots of really messed-up reasons (which I discuss in other blogs) I was less than popular with the guys and pretty shy and repressed. It took me a long time to find my confidence. After reading her blogs, I couldn’t help but ask myself, what if?
What if, in my early years as a technician/engineer my boss/mentor had been a confident woman leader? How would that have changed my trajectory?
Obviously, I cannot change the past. But I can write a little fantasy about what I would have liked it to look like. Now that I am 40, and infinitely more confident than I was at 24 it’s fun to indulge. Maybe it will inspire some of the other 20-somethings, struggling to find their voice and sexuality in a world sending mixed messages about what women should want and need.
Downtown Seattle, setting for this segment
Danyjella ran a
comb through her damp auburn hair while she waited for the email to connect to
the server.
I’ll just fire off one more email, then I’ll
head to the reception upstairs. She thought, as she applied mascara to her
long red eyelashes, then tapped blush on her pale cheeks in the mirror next to
the desk.
The IM window
flashed on her laptop.
RO: What the HELL are you still
doing working?
DANY: I’m sending you that report on
the plc and relay tests you requested
RO: GURL REALLY? It can wait until
Mon
DANY: Then YTF did you text me
asking if it was ready to go????
RO: Just wanted to know when it
would be ready
DANY: What the HELL are you still
doing working? You’re 3 hours ahead.
RO: I’m the boss, wanted to stalk
you and make sure you were done for the day, off scoring with hot men
DANY: HAHA! Remember who you’re
talking to?
RO: I do, so are you off to have
some fun?
DANY: I am. Heading to the bar for the reception I&M is throwing for the crew tonight.
RO: Great, BTW, sorry to cut into
your weekend, but the owner wants have dinner to go over progress Sunday night
DANY: OK
RO: What are you going to wear?
Danyjella paused,
looking down at her plain khaki pants and crimson tank top. It was the nicest
thing she had at the moment. The matching cardigan she planned on wearing over
the top of it was draped over the back of the chair. She looked out of the
window as Elliot Bay faded from silver into navy and the lights came on across
the way in West Seattle. She wondered where the rest of her stuff was. Somewhere
between Anchorage and Seattle in a shipping container. She sighed and then gave
a wry smile. She loved Rowena’s sense of style. The chic, vivacious woman who’d
hired her as field engineer and project lead for the new office here in Seattle
could get every head in the room to turn just by raising a perfectly arched
eyebrow and tapping immaculately manicured nails against a crystal wine stem. Danyjella
always wondered what that was like.
RO: Well???
DANY: I don’t know. Haven’t had
much time to go shopping since I moved down here. My new boss is a total slave
driver 😛
RO: My assistant is going to make
an appointment for you with the personal shopper at the downtown Nordstrom’s in
Seattle tomorrow. Make-up after! Be there as soon as they open.
DANY: Yes mummy. Make sure the
appointment is early. The building manager is giving me a personal tour of the
condos here tomorrow afternoon. I may put in an offer.
RO: EXCELLENT! I’ll be in town next
weekend. Sending you the file Monday for a software company in Redmond I need
to you review. Setting up a lunch meeting for you to head over there next week
and talk with their VP. We may want to acquire them.
DANY: Sounds good. Make it for later
in the week, Friday maybe. We’re testing the fire systems here Monday and
Tuesday. I need to be here for that. It’s going to be hectic.
RO: When is the security system
test?
DANY: Depends on how the F&G
tests go. Probably not until next week. Want to integrate the generator
controls first. I need to get moving. I can already feel the guys racking up
the bar tab upstairs.
RO: You go gurl. Thanks again.
You’re doing a fantastic job. Have a great weekend.
DANY: You too woman
Danyjella sent the
email off to Rowena, then she tugged her cardigan over her tank top and slid
her feet into her leather sandals. She wriggled her pink painted toes, feet
grateful to be free of the steel toed boots after such a long hot day. She
stretched and looked around the neatly furnished corporate apartment.
I love how close to downtown and the Lightrail
this place is. I hope they can get me a good deal. She thought as she went
into the bathroom to blow-dry her fine, shoulder-length auburn hair. She headed
to the outdoor mezzanine bar and restaurant that was part of the new condo
resort complex in downtown Seattle.
“Hey it’s Little Dipper Dany!” OT shouted as the elevator door slid open, revealing the Friday night party to already be in full swing. “Whata’ ya’ have?” The compact Irishman man asked. She smiled as she approached the group. OT barely came to her nose, but insisted on calling her “Little.” She wondered what he’d call her if she wore heels. At 5’9 she wasn’t gigantic, but tall enough for a girl.
“White wine and
sparkling water. It was a hot day today.” Danyjella replied as the bartender
began to pour.
“No shit it was.
I’ll be glad when they get the AC fully functional in that other building.” OT
replied. There were several comments of agreement from the rest of the commissioning
crew.
“Should be done by
Monday. They’re working on it this weekend. We’re going to test the HVAC with
the fire and gas systems on Tuesday.” Danyjella said, taking a sip of her
drink. The scantily clad waitresses brought out plates of appetizers for the
group, while Danyjella leaned against the bar, listening to the music play over
the speakers. Her mind wandered as she watched her guys hit on the girls.
Really, Jeff? You’re married. Oh yeah, I
forgot. “Crew policy” If its another zip code, it doesn’t count. She shook
her head as her stomach knotted. Shrugging her shoulders, she took a zip of her
white wine spritzer. She really would enjoy something a little stronger, but
damn, it had been hot today. Had Seattle been this brutally hot in the summers
when she went to college? She couldn’t remember. She put a hand against the bar
and took another sip, counting down the time until she could go back up to her
room, peel off her clothes and climb into the giant tub in the bathroom and
soak away all the aches from this week. Too bad the pool was closed for repairs.
What a rotten time of year to be out of service.
“Enjoying the
party?” A husky voice said behind her. She nearly choked on her drink as she
turned around to see a wall of sky-blue buttoned-down shirt.
“Uh—yes thank you, Mr. Erikson.” She replied, recovering herself as she gazed up into the site foreman’s vivid sapphire eyes. “It was very nice of I&M to put this on for the guys, I know they’re enjoying it.” Danyjella said, motioning to her crew of technicians, scattered around the bar, drinking, playing pool and shuffle board, talking up some of the local girls.
“You can call me Isaak.
We’ve only been working together all week,” he said, running a hand through his
thick, golden-brown hair. “What about you? You looked rather bored.” He said,
eyes crinkling as his smooth pink lips curled up in a grin.
“It’s fine. Just a
little tired I suppose. It’s been a long week,” she replied, rubbing her
shoulder. She looked down, thinking of Rowena and her penchant for hot guys in
jeans, as she took in his well-fitting blue jeans and black leather cowboy
boots.
“Hey, wait a sec,”
she said, cocking her head to the side. “The email said the bar has a strict
‘no jeans’ policy.” She pointed down to her khaki pants then his jeans.
His grin got
wider, and she felt her heart flutter as his eyes traveled up and down her
body, lingering on her breasts in a way that made her knees turn to water.
“Well, I suppose they make a special exception for me.”
“Why is that?” she
asked.
He shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. “I don’t know. Probably because I own half the building. I’m the I of I&M Enterprise.”
“Oh,” was Danyjella’s
only inarticulate reply. Why the fuck
didn’t Ro mention that, I thought he was just the site foreman. “I—I
suppose that makes sense then.” She said, shrugging her shoulders, wishing she
could think up something else to say.
He frowned, then
looked like he was about to say something else as a gorgeous brunette came up
alongside him, putting a flawlessly manicured hand on his forearm. The metal of
her gold choker gleamed against her glowing olive skin. She simpered at
Danyjella, then squeezed Isaak’s bicep.
Of course, he’d be taken. Didn’t see a ring.
But what the hell do I care? Not like guys like that are interested in me
anyway.
“I heard you’re
interested in buying into a unit in the new building,” He said, taking a sip of
his beer.
“Yes, I just moved
back down here from Alaska. The company’s putting me up here temporarily while
I house hunt, but I really like the location and the amenities. You’ve built a
fantastic property.”
“Have you tried
the pool yet?” he asked, the woman standing next to him frowned and sighed,
trying to get his attention.
“Uh, no. I
understand the pool is closed right now. Repairs or something,” Danyjella
replied, heat rising to her cheeks as he continued to stare.
“The main pool is,
but I can give you access to the penthouse pool. Here,” he pulled a business
card from his wallet and grabbed a pen from the bar. He scribbled some numbers
on it. “This is the floor number, and the code to get in. Don’t worry about
bringing a towel, they have everything you need at the spa. Its open 24/7.” The
brunette squeezed his arm again and raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. “If
you’ll pardon me. Please, enjoy the party.”
“Thanks, I—will,”
she said, but he had already turned away.
That was really kind of him, she thought
to herself, putting the card into her back pocket. She finished the rest of her
white wine spritzer. Her heart sank as she watched him move through the crowd
gorgeous brunette clinging to his side. He’d been flirty and friendly all week
as they worked. Not that she thought she really had a shot with a guy like him,
even when she thought he was the construction manager/site foreman. Now that
she realized he was the VP of the company she knew he was totally out of her
league. Guys like that only went for really pretty girls, not Plain Janes like
her. She sighed. Get over it. She
told herself
“Care for
another?” the bartender asked, flashing a smile.
“No thanks, maybe
just sparkling water and lime.” She replied as he refilled her. She wandered
around the room, chatting up with the crew and having a few appetizers as the
bar filled up with regular patrons. She noticed Isaak sitting in the lounge
section in the back, the lovely brunette huddled close beside him. Meanwhile,
across the table, a dark-haired man in a neatly cut navy blue suit sat
opposite. Her heart fluttered as his gaze seemed to go right through her. She
suddenly wished she’d had something better to wear than this plain tank top and
cardigan as his sapphire eyes raked over her. Eyes that were identical in color to Isaak’s, I wonder if they’re
related, she thought. He tipped his glass slightly in her direction. The
voluptuous platinum blonde at his side smiled broadly, coral pink lips
glittering under the now dimmed lights. Her eyes were dark and luminous as she
looked Danyjella over as well, the diamonds at her throat winking as she turned
her head and whispered in the man’s ear.
Danyjella froze
and nodded in return, not really sure of the protocol she found herself looking
around. Are they really looking at me
like that?
“Hey, Little Dipper,”
OT interrupted, “Bunch of us are going boating tomorrow on Lake Washington,
wanna’ come?”
“Sorry OT, can’t.
I’ve got to run some errands for the boss tomorrow,” she replied. “But keep me
in mind for next weekend perhaps.” When she looked back, her breath came even
faster as the man in the corner continued to stare. He put his glass to his
lips, never taking his eyes off of her. Isaak looked up and frowned when he saw
her standing there. He said something to the man in the corner that only made
him smile wider. He looked away and went back to talking with Isaak. Meanwhile
the blonde flipped her hair over her shoulder, dark eyes raising the heat in
Danyjella’s cheeks. Then she turned her attention back to the conversation.
Danyjella shook
her head, spell broken. What the hell is
wrong with me? I need to just get a grip. They were probably staring at someone
behind me. She downed the rest of her drink and placed an order at the bar
for some food to be sent to her room later from one of the restaurants
downstairs. She made a beeline back to her room to change for the pool.
Seattle waterfront in Summertime
Wow, I could get used to this, Danyjella
thought as she rested her chin on her arms, staring at the twinkling Seattle
lights. The infinity pool glowed blue as she looked out from the 50th
floor over Elliott Bay, Lake Union, and West Seattle. She could see the lights
from the stadiums to the south. It looked like a Mariners game had just gotten
out. Ahh, but I would be using the
“regular pool” not this one. I’ll have to make sure to tell Isaak thank you.
“Enjoying the
view?” A smooth voice asked from the pool deck behind her. She jerked away from
the edge, bobbing in the water and sputtering as she came back up. “Whoa, don’t
drown on me,” the dark-haired man from the bar said with a chuckle as he
crouched down by the edge. “Though, I’ll admit, I’d love to revive you.”
“The view is
beautiful,” she replied, treading water as she moved toward the shallow end.
Her eyes searched the patio area to see that they were indeed alone.
“Sorry to startle
you, Miss Napier,” he said, taking a seat in one of the plush blue lounge
chairs.
“I’m fine,” she
replied. “Pardon me, but who are you?”
His navy sports
coat from earlier was gone. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar,
sleeves rolled up “Forgive me, Rayne, Rayne Mattson,” he said, leaning back in
the lounge chair and putting his muscled arms behind his head. He kicked his
patent leather-clad feet up and looked down at her in the water through thick
inky eyelashes.
“Ah yes,” Danyjella
replied. “We’re supposed to have dinner Sunday night and go over the progress
so far on integrating the controls for the new building into the existing.” She
ran her hands over her wet hair, feeling at a disadvantage, half naked in the
pool while their client watched.
“Yes,” he replied,
“And I’m looking forward to it. I’ve read your plans, I’m sure it will be
brilliant. But enough about work for tonight.” He said, leaning his head back
and looking up at the night sky. The pools retractable roof had been pulled
back, revealing a hazy night sky. “I don’t know about you, but its been a long
week.”
“Uh, yes,” she
replied. That’s why I’m here in the pool.
Trying to relax. Alone.
“I’m sorry,” he
said, sitting upright and leaning toward her, eyes reflecting the blue light of
the pool. “You’re trying to wind down. I’m barging in. This is my favorite
place to relax too.” He pointed to one of the three penthouse suites that
surrounded the pool area. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” she
said, feeling the heat rise despite the cool water. Had he been reading her
mind? He had just as much right to be here, if not more so. Now she felt like
an interloper.
“Are you hungry?”
he asked. “I ordered dinner from downstairs, it should be here any minute. I
know we’re having dinner Sunday, but would you care to join me,” his blue eyes
crinkled, as he lowered his voice and leaned forward again. “A little less
formally?”
Her stomach
rumbled, other than the appetizers at the reception, she hadn’t eaten anything
since lunch. “Sure,” she replied.
“Why don’t I go in
and pick out a nice bottle of wine,” her breath caught as he smiled. “I’ll give
you a little privacy while you get out of the pool and rinse off.” He rose and
went into one of the corner penthouse suites. She climbed out of the pool and
toweled off with the downy blue town she’d left on one of the lounge chairs and
wrapped it around her midsection, tucking it securely around her breasts. She
glanced in the direction he had gone. The lights glowed through the floor to
ceiling windows. He moved gracefully around his apartment, picking out a bottle
of wine. Grabbing her nylon bag of clothes, she walked to the spa area and
rinsed quickly. She put on her simple chemise and shorts that she brought with
her and pulled one of the lush robes hanging in the spa over it. She slipped
her feet back into her sandals and padded out into the warm summer evening.
When she came back
out to the pool area, Rayne had the small table between the lounge chairs set
for two. “The food will be here any minute,” he said, smiling up at her and
handing her a crystal goblet of red wine.
“Thank you,” she replied taking a seat on the lounge chair opposite of him. “So, you’re the ‘M’ then of I&M Enterprises?”
“Yes,” he replied, leaning back in
his chair and sipping his wine.
“How did you and
Isaak meet then?” Her eyes scanned his face. Both men were tall and muscled.
But Isaak was more golden complexioned. This man was dark-haired and olive
skinned, but they both shared vivid blue eyes.
His face
contorted, so fast that if she would have blinked, she would have missed it. An
expression of almost, malevolence. But it faded so fast she thought she must
have been mistaken. A peculiar smile crossed his face. It sent a chill up her
spine in that, it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “We’re related. Isaak is my
half-brother. He’s an excellent architect and construction manager.”
“And what do you
do?”
“My expertise is
in Business Management and Finance,” he took a sip of wine, looking her over
once more. “You have a fascinating resume, Miss Napier. Ex-military, automation
and electrical engineer, medically discharged. No husband or boyfriend?”
She choked on her
sip of wine, “No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Mattson.”
“Rayne, please
call me Rayne. May I call you Danyjella?”
“Sure.” She
replied, dragging her eyes away from his face.
“Danyjella is an
unusual name. Eastern European, I take it?”
“The spelling is.
My family is not.” She replied. “There was a couple from Sarajevo who lived
next door to my parents when my mother was pregnant. The woman’s sister was
named Danyjella. My mom thought that was a pretty name.”
“It is indeed,”
the tone of his voice sent a quiver through her body. They were interrupted by
his cell phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it. He
punched a code into his phone, and the delivery girl entered the pool area
carrying multiple containers tied together with string.
“Thanks for your
order, Mr. Mattson,” the slender girl said with a smile, her pink dyed hair cast
in a purple sheen from the azure lights of the pool as she set the cartons down
on the table.
“Thank you Jen,” he replied. He turned his mesmerizing eyes back on her as he began to serve her Dim Sum from the containers. “You’re an intriguing woman, Danyjella. Tell me a little more about yourself, I’m interested in knowing what makes a woman like you tick.”
Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for more sexy engineering adventures. Who will my alter-ego pick?
Hey everyone! Spring has come to Alaska, and Ray and I are busy with plans for Chicken. I have started my separate Chicken page: @ChickenAK and will be doing writing prompts using the hashtag #AKChickenChick. This particular series of prompts was inspired by the idea of #DKMasquerade and her character Liberty coming to meet mine in Chicken, AK for the Dust to Dawson and Solstice. I posted this sometime ago, but here it is again. For those of you who actually read it all the way to the bottom, you’ll get a sneak peak at this weekend’s prompt (starting tomorrow).
What happens when two crazy writers decide to allow their characters to get together and wreak havoc on the Alaska interior? Find out as DKMarie’s character for her #DKMasquerade comes to Chicken Alaska for the Dust to Dawson Bike Ride Weekend to help bail her friend out. As we get into this, I will open up some sort of writing prompts and have a contest (I have some awesome Alaska based giveaways planned for Solstice) for our writing friends to join in harassing our two characters as their flirt with sexy bikers, miners, and pilots.
Will they find #Romance? #Comedy? #Horror? #Aliens? We’ll see, won’t we #Writingcommunity? All genres welcome. NO direct buy links, but look at this as a way to indirectly tell us about yourself and your characters!
Sign behind bar
INTRODUCTION
Ashley leaned against the scarred wooden bar reviewing the order for the shipment of supplies for the Saloon. Still early in the season, the fire in the woodstove in the crackled. The mornings were cool, but the days were getting hot. Ashley sipped her morning coffee from her favorite mug and tucked her pen into her bun of fine, wheat blonde hair.
She looked up as a shadow darkened the door to see their evening bartender standing at the threshold, blue eyes red with tears.
“Emily,
What’s wrong?” Ashley asked, standing upright and setting her mug down.
“I—I just
checked my email,” she stammered. “My mom’s in the hospital, she had a heart
attack last night.”
“Oh my God!”
Ashley exclaimed, coming around the bar and giving her a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“I hate
to ask, I know Dust to Dawson is in three weeks,” she started to say, but Ashley
cut her off.
“Don’t
you even think about it. I will go get Nick’s ass out of bed and tell him to
get the Beaver ready to fly you back into Anchorage. I’ll pay you out of the
cash I have on hand.”
“Thank
you, Ashley. I’m so sorry to leave you in the lurch,” Emily said, wiping her
eyes.
“No worries girl. Just worry about your mom. We’ll be fine. Go pack your stuff.” Emily nodded and walked back to the cabin.
After
she helped Nick prep the plane, and gave him a list of things to pick up while
he was in Anchorage, she crossed her arms over her chest, worrying.
God, this is turning into a total shit-show.
Why did I agree to run this place while Susie took the summer off? Oh yeah,
because I thought it would be a great way to make me forget about him and her. She
rubbed the scar on her side, two years later, the knife wound still throbbed every
time she thought of it. She shook her head. Mom
and Dad can totally cover the mornings at the café and gift shop. Scooter and
Jen cover things during the day shift. But for Dust to Dawson weekend we’re
going to need more than just Nick and me running the bar in the evenings. Where
the hell am I going to get another bartender on such short notice?
She blinked a few times as she walked back into the bar, her eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the sunny day outside. The ancient floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she paced back and forth. She pushed a few balls around on the pool table at the back, trying to come up with a plan. The thousands of panties and hats stapled to the ceiling rustled in the breeze blowing in through the open door. She could hear her Mom, Nina in the kitchen prepping soups and sandwiches for the tour bus that would be coming in that afternoon.
A chirping
sound on her laptop drew her attention back to the bar. She smiled when she saw
the email. Then she gasped, hands shaking as she began to type a response.
Hey There City-Girl,
I know you’re busy moping your way around Europe, and I promise I will join you at some point, but I desperately need your help. As you know, I’m running the bar for the summer out here in Chicken, AK, and our biggest weekend is coming up. It’s the Dust to Dawson Bike Ride. Thousands of bikers come through here on their way to a big poker tournament in Dawson. We’re hosting a live band here the night before the tourney. The bike ride is on the solstice (June 20-21), so I would need you here for like a week (June 16-24). Please? I’m begging you. I’m desperate. Look at it as a way to come try out Alaska for a week and get paid well for it. As a bonus, I can connect you with some friends in Healy if you want to check out Denali afterwards. My brother Nick is a pilot, so he has friends there who do flight tours across the state.
Take care pretty lady, hope to see you soon!
Your Country Mouse Buddy,
Ashley
She hit send and crossed her fingers, hopping for the best. This would be epic if only she would come to Alaska. The two of them, running the bar forgetting about their d-bag exes. Oh yeah.
Me and my father-in-law Shep, having a beer at the bar in Chicken, AK
So the first writing prompt will be #travel, specifically to Alaska. What brings your character to Alaska? Some come searching for gold, some for love, some for the yeti, others just for vacation. Write a great tweet about how your character would end up at a bar in the Alaska interior the week of the solstice. This one is not for a contest, just to warm everyone up and get us started. Take care!
I don’t know about you, but as a writer, I think that is the
question I hate the most. While there are plenty of stories and authors out
there who inspire us, we all are trying to write a different take on the same old
song and dance. We try as authors to bring an original spin to the myths,
fables, legends and even genres that are embedded into our cultures.
“What has been will be again,
What has been done will be done again;
There is nothing new under the sun.”
Ecclesiastes 1:9
I think what I enjoyed most about BK Bass’s the Ravencrest
Chonicles is that it was NOT like anything I had read before. I have always
read a lot, and I was a huge fan of the Dragon Lance Series as a kid. I’ve read
Tolkien and just about every Stephen King book there is. I can’t tell you that
he’s like Tolkien, or RR Martin, or Stephen King. But if you’re a fan of any of
the above, you will like Bass’s Ravencrest. This writing is the cross-section
of Fantasy meets Gothic Horror. Rather than a novel, Bass weaves together a
collection of novellas, short stories and poems that paint a dark and compelling
picture of a bustling port town full of colorful characters that is being haunted
by something…supernatural.
Now, I said in the previous paragraph that his writing wasn’t
like a particular novel or author, but his setting of Seahaven reminded me of
many of the seaside towns I have lived in since ditching the small desert town
I grew up in and joining the Navy. I can taste the dank salt air, and feel that
bone-penetrating chill that comes from the moisture that never dissipates with
the seasons. I can picture Seahaven’s close-packed-hastily built buildings
nestled against the rising cliffs. A crowd of sorts, clamoring for the wealth
of trade coming from the sea, all the while, ignoring the dark shadow hovering
over the city above, in the form of the nobility. At the start of the story, I
wondered why the hell the people in the town put up with it, but Bass does an
excellent job answering that question.
Oh…that’s why…You
know, I have to admit, I would so be on the first ship out of this place…just
saying.
Bass does a great job of showing and not telling in these stories.
As previously mentioned, I love Tolkien, and Martin. However, Tolkien’s never-ending
descriptions left me wanting to scream “are the hobbits ever going to get to
the freakin’ mountain?” Or in Martin’s case, his need to not only describe
every detail of a character’s appearance, but the ornate and in-depth details
of their clothing (I found myself wondering at times, Is this Westeros Fashion
week or something?).
Instead, Bass jumps right into the action, showing me his
characters. I got the impression of this cutthroat town of Seahaven as being a
sort of medieval Mos Eisley. A melting pot of thieves, murderers, pirates,
whores and devils. Meanwhile Bass pulls back the layers on a very unwilling
protagonist: Gareth Vann, master thief, turned unwilling hero. Gareth along
with his rag-tag network of sparrows, young orphans like he once was, and
pirate friends, will defend the city against the shadows encroaching from above
and below.
What I also enjoyed about this story was that Bass keeps you
guessing as to who is the good guy and who is the bad. At the risk of spoilers,
I will leave it at that. But I did really enjoy how no one is quite as they
seem.
**I do have to say,
the end story—I totally saw that coming, but I enjoyed every…delicious…minute
of reading it.
Finishing this book, I felt a quandary. It left more
questions than it answered, but in a good way:
What’s Helen’s backstory?
Is Marcella going to get more of a story of her
own?
Am I going to get to hear about the origins of
the Bloody Wench and her first captain?
There’s lots of references to sirens, so will
that be a legend Bass brings onboard in the next book?
There’s lots of hints about Hatha, will she get
a story of her own?
And many more…
Okay, dammit. I’m hooked. When’s the next book, Bass? I’m waiting.
