Thursday, March 4, 2021

Book Recommendations, March 2021

 Here's a few books that I've read, enjoyed, and reviewed over the past few weeks:


Cry Wolf: A Tale of Beauty and the Beast by Jacque Stevens
I loved the wolves, and the love interest was absolutely adorable. The villain is truly chilling, and the twist from his point of view was expertly done.

Stormy Weather by Ranaildo Timms
This is a memoir about marine boot camp. It's way outside my usual genre, but I enjoyed this brief foray into someone else's point of view.

The Marked Princess by EP Stavs
An excellent fantasy that starts off an exciting adventure series.

The Jaguar Drum by Fenton Kay
A historical fiction about the Mayan people that gave a fascinating new voice to an ancient people.

The Valentine's Date Mistake by Cassandra Shiels
A cute romance between high school teachers. Since I'm married to a teacher, I enjoyed reading him this one out loud

Facing the Sun by Carol Beth Anderson
An excellent fantasy book. I loved the world-building, especially how it was based on a matriarchal system.

Saturday, May 11, 2019

Keita's Rescue

This is the opening of The Spectra United from Brian's point of view.
It's later used as a flashback in The Spectra Undaunted


Brian's aching back rested against a hard wooden floor. Griffin’s body was draped awkwardly across his chest, unnaturally still. Brian wasn’t sure if his brother was awake or not until he heard his mind-voice. Morning. He’ll be here soon.


‘He’ meant Captain Berk, their Lectran captor. Maybe he won’t talk today, Brian answered.


He always talks.


Brian couldn’t argue. The captain came every morning as their paralysis wore off. He’d let them eat and move around for a few minutes, controlling then with electric shocks, before shoving drugs down their throats. Then he’d sit and gloat. The boys were only alive because they were bait. Sooner or later, the princesses would come for them. The captain detailed the treatment the girls would get when they were caught: drugged, helpless, and immobile in the soldiers' power. No wonder Glen had escaped instead of trying to free the brothers. He had to warn the girls away.


Footsteps interrupted the stillness. They were too soft for Berk, who wore boots. Keita, no! Brian sent her. Who else would enter a splintery attic barefoot? The footsteps didn’t falter. Keita, I mean it! It’s a trap. Get out of here!


She can’t hear you, Griffin sent him, and you’re giving me a headache.


A small hand touched his forehead. His body tingled, and Brian tried to force his voice to work. He couldn’t move yet, but her touch was negating the drugs. Any minute now. Any minute...


A crash broke the stillness. The hand withdrew. “Nice try, Princess,” Captain Berk’s voice said.


Brian forced his eyes open but saw nothing but the dusty rafters—his neck wouldn’t move. The vibrations in the floor beneath him told him she was fighting back. What was she doing?


“Not much of a fighter, are you?” Captain Berk taunted.


Something popped. Keita cried out. Brian thrashed and finally, finally, his body responded. He climbed to his feet. Keita was lying against a broken wall, unmoving. Captain Berk moved toward her, unhurried, confident with every footfall. Brian lunged. Captain Berk was caught off guard. Instinctively he ducked Brian’s charge, but the motion drew him near the hole in the wall. Brian’s shoulder caught the man’s chest. He staggered backward, lost his footing, and fell. They were higher up than Brian realized, for the man’s scream took a long time to cut off.


Keita’s hands twitched. She wasn’t drugged—probably paralyzed by Berk’s lightning. Brian ran to her. Her bright green eyes fixed on his face. He read her emotions: awkward and embarrassed at the situation, but beneath that, quiet confidence. Whatever she was doing, coming alone into their prison, she had a plan and she knew what she was doing. Brian let himself relax. He could trust her plan too.

Tuesday, April 9, 2019

Castalia Carriage Ride



Keita Sage jogged through the strange city, following the gashes in the hard-packed road made by the runaway carriage. Here and there she came across a clothing trunk, burst open and half-empty, its load of gaudy clothing strewn across the dusty street. A young man clambered down from a nearby roof, eyes wide with shock, but he was alive and well enough to move.


She almost passed her guide. Teague Pensier huddled in a gap between two weedy buildings, eyes peering out of his hiding hole as though another carriage was going to squeeze through to hunt him down. Though they were the same age, tears streaked his dirty face and dripped onto a formal embroidered jacket.


“I hate carriages,” Teague mumbled.


“I was thrown off almost right away,” Keita said. “Did you see anyone hurt?”


“I couldn’t see Reid.” This thought seemed to galvanize him. “Have you seen Reid? We have to find him.”


He charged out of the murky shadows, his torn slacks flapping a bit at the knee. Keita trailed behind, trying to watch for Teague’s little brother and oncoming traffic at the same time. Half-high brick walls lined the street, leaving little room for escape if another carriage bolted by. Her own kingdom had its share of walls—not of brick and concrete, but sheer cliffs piercing the sky to emphasize their words: “You stay here!” This kingdom, on the other hand, had nothing but walls. Little walls to cage in these tall, cramped houses, bigger ones in the richer neighborhoods, and a huge one of concrete around the largest home of all, the Muse mansion where Teague and his brothers lived.


And speaking of Teague’s brothers…


“Boo!”


Teague yelped. He spun around, jacket edges flapping, and nearly fell over. Reid burst into laughter, leaning against a wall to support himself. His bright clothes, shining face, and the hint of red in his blond hair stood out like a beacon against the gray city street.


“Man, I got you that time!”


Teague brushed the dust off of his coat and stood tall. “That is not funny.”


Reid was still laughing. Keita loved teasing her brother and cousins like that. But they weren’t here. The urge to laugh died, and she turned her back on the boys to examine her surroundings. They’d started out travelling west—that was all she knew, and only because they’d been able to glimpse the Great Mountains behind them, peeking out between the cluttered houses. She couldn’t see them now.


Teague’s smile died. Now he peered down the dusty lane as though he could see the carriage ahead. “Anyone hurt?” he asked Reid.


“Nah. It stopped not long after I got thrown.”


“We can find another,” Teague said, though he turned green at the thought. “Then we can finish our tour and get back home.”


Home, Keita thought, with an irritated glance in his direction. This was not home. She studied the crowded street. Half-high brick walls separated the houses. Tall windows gawped at the wide street while hiding their insides behind rough woven cloth. Gaudy flowers of some unknown species lived in pots on the front steps, the only sign of life in sight. How much better the foreign city would look with even a single tree!


An explosion of noise rushed up behind her. She turned to look, but another force tugged her backward. She fell sideways, hit the nearest wall, and tumbled headfirst into a patch of gravel on the other side.


For a second she lay there, stunned. Then she felt a pair of hands on each of hers. “Oh no. Oh, no. Keita? Keita, you’re okay, right?”


If she were injured, Reid’s poking wouldn’t help.


“Of course I’m okay.” She clambered to her feet. Nothing seemed broken, though a piercing pain warned that she’d cut her face, and her hands stung where they’d scraped against the gravel.


“It wasn’t crashing too, was it?” Keita peered up the street, but the carriage was long past.


“Nah,” Reid said. “They took the corner a bit fast, though, considering somebody might be standing here… which we were.” He smirked in an ‘I think I’m funny’ sort of way, and drooped down again as no one laughed.


“I don’t like this,” Teague said. “I vote we get back to the mansion before anything else happens.”


Keita forced her voice to keep casual. “Are people often run over in Castalia?”


Teague and Reid exchanged glances she couldn’t read. “Being royal can be dangerous,” Reid said finally. “Even for spares.”


The two younger boys were spares. Keita, betrothed to their older brother and heir to the throne, wasn’t sure if she counted. No one seemed to give her much notice—though, as she’d been avoiding everyone except these two boys, that didn’t mean much.


“We should’ve requested an escort,” Teague said.


“You have one,” Keita said. “Me. Now come on.” She turned off of the main road and began striding down it.


“One problem there,” Reid called after her. “The mansion’s the other way.”

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Donovan's beginning

This short story discusses the origin and motivations of Donovan, the main villain of the Keita's Wings series. 

Footsteps in his domain. A stranger in his territory. The beast rose.

 

The locals feared this place. They spoke of a black shadow, like a wolf but broader in face, scrawny as death. Mostly it did no harm, for it was slow and confused, but there were nasty rumors. Sometimes it came to itself, and then it attacked. Not to eat, or to defend, like a real beast. The few survivors spoke of a flash of recognition, of awareness, in its crazed eyes. Then it pounced, and victims had visions of doom and despair that rendered them so helpless that the did not care as jaws slashed, blood flowed, life ebbed. All feared the shadow-beast.

 

The boys in the slums, far from its territory, had little to fear. They had mothers to threaten them into good behavior with its image. Yet, for Mark, the story had a strange allure. As a child he dreamed of taming it. As a youth he dreamed of controlling it. And at last, as a man, he went looking for it.

 

The beast knew the second the man set foot among the hills. Clarity returned to his mind. He remembered, if not who he was, then what. The man's scent was familiar. The physical images of memory were long gone, but he knew that scent. Silent paws made no mark on the mountain earth.

 

Mark knew he was being watched. He saw and heard nothing, but he felt its presence. He felt no fear. Boys who survived the slums learned to conquer fear.

 

A shadow emerged from the brush. At first Mark thought it was a dog. Then he realized it was only a man, crouched on the earth, a man in ragged velvet that might once have been finery. The man stood, and his eyes pierced into Mark. "Who are you?"

 

"Mark, leader of the Shrikes."

 

"A human then?"

 

"As far as I know."

 

"Yes, human. I see it on you." The man straightened, brushed off his clothes, examined the scenery. "I gave up," he muttered. "Perhaps I should have fought on. I did not know the full cost of giving up. Well, I will not forget it now."

 

He faced Mark again. "Take me to your home. I must recover. I must study. Then we will plan."

 

Kieran, the man who had been a beast, fit well in Mark's world. He did not challenge Mark's leadership, but as he became influential in the gang, things changed. The men learned new techniques. They learned how to examine an enemy and find his weakness. They learned control, and subtly, and became the most feared gang of Grayton.

 

Kieran did not remain with them long. He had a land to survey. He changed his name to Donovan and practiced his old skills. His enemies had won, and their descendants reigned. And they did it poorly. The primitive Sprites claimed a space in politics beside the most prestigious Muses. The rulers were weak, pleasure-seeking, powerless. Keiran's kingdom was split in pieces. Two of them had nobodies for rulers, unrelated to any old ruling families. And yet they stood beside the others, and even the old families had gone soft and weak.

 

He would have to fix it. The first step was to clear out these new, weak kings. He would find new leaders—from the old lines, if he could. If not, anyone he could control would do. He must put the kingdom back the way it was supposed to be.

Thursday, February 22, 2018

Behind the Words

 Words fall short. 

The message is too big 

to be captured by such tiny packages. 

The true story lies 

hidden 

beneath the words 

where we hope the best readers 

will find it. 

Press your eye 

to the circle of the o or the dot on the i. 

Can you see me? 

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Birdwatcher

  

A steady gaze meets mine, reflected in the cabin window. 

No need for the guidebook or the binoculars around my neck; I can see you  

perfectly. 

The owl is my neighbor, yet through the summer we rarely met. Now 

as darkness lengthens, our hunts overlap. 

We scan the skies, flick over the ground, search for movement. 

He hunts to eat. My prey flies off untouched.  

Why do I hunt? 

What draws me to find you? 

Colored feathers. Piping voices. Watchful eyes.  

Your eyes show colors I can but dream of. 

History. Legend. Myth. 

Good luck or bad, foretelling wisdom or death, you decorate our stories, give reality to our myths. 

Names. Labels. Fact. 

Child of dinosaurs, you traded scales for feathers, might for fight, yet you wear their talons unchanged. 

Are these the reasons I search for you, hunt you down with eyes alone? 

Or is it something deeper, unnamed, within 

that draws me? 

Which of us, 

after all, 

is prey? 

 

 

 

Let's talk about paper!

  Until recently, the only options for the paper inside of books at amazon was white or cream. But they've just unveiled a new one, call...