Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Reading Lists 2016: Ranked Reading List 3

*Not pictured: Chasing Ivan by Tim Tigner (ebook)
#10: The Barcode Tattoo
Suzanne Weyn
Disappointing and flaky. Where do I even start with this one? Granted, Weyn's contribution to Cameron Dokey's series of fairytale retellings is my least favorite of what I have read so far—but I was hoping her sci-fi dystopian was at least a little better. The premise certainly sounded interesting in a "I could see this happening in my lifetime" kind of way: everybody of a certain age gets a barcode tattoo that ostensibly holds all their identification records: school, medical, criminal, political, etc. There's just one hitch, which becomes the crux of the book: if the government deems you as a threat, they can cancel your barcode and then you're a "nobody" to society--and they can also alter your records to make you seem like a bigger threat to society than you are, and everybody would rather believe what the government says about you than what your own behavior says, anyway.
Yeah.... it kind of went downhill from there. Not even a little bit interesting, in spite of the gathering of wannabe teen rebels seeking to game the system--till one of their own is perceived as working with the government... or something. Then the main character gets some kind of supernatural vision/seer powers?? Yikes. The characters were flat and stereotypical, the "threat" not all that threatening, and the whole thing came off as not very memorable. Blah.

Author's Tagline: Europe's smartest criminal, versus America's best spy. And then there's poor Emily, stuck in between.
Honest Tagline: Discount Mission: Impossible Meets Every Cliche You Can Pack Into An Action Film... Er, Novel... Novella.
This was one of the very few requests for reviews I have received from an already-established author—only this guy, I'd never heard of. Apparently he hit up Goodreads for anybody who reads the thriller genre in the hopes of getting some extra free marketing. He lured me with comparisons between him and David Baldacci, by whom I have only read one book I did not enjoy. I went in expecting at LEAST that. I mean, this is a professional author, not an indie self-published newb. At least his bio is rather impressive, and this isn't his first rodeo.
The novella, considerably less so. I wasn't compelled to root for a girl who was stupid enough to leave her phone behind at the request of a blind date (SPOILER: it's the master criminal wanted by the CIA, who wants to use her to coerce her dad because he's running for Parliament or something!), I more resented the fact that the book subscribed heavily to the "My CIA Handler Is A Desk Jockey And A Tool Looking For A Promotion" trope, and quite frankly, I could care less that the "rogue agent" was freakishly good looking, super-agile, and every superlative you can cram into a chiseled, tanned body. Blah. No thrills here. (I did give it 4 stars because it handled all the tropes without digressing into a complete disaster, but out of all the 10 books I read, yep, it gets a low rank)

#8: The Hidden Hand
E.D.E.N. Southworth

Generic and slow, ponderous, and only half of it any good. I picked this one up because it had been some time since I read anything that could be considered a "classic." This one I had heard of from a few friends, and we had it, so I figured I might as well read it.
If nothing else, this book served as a lesson about how far I had come in my reading tastes. There was a time when this would have been my kind of adventure novel—back in my tween years, I relished the idea of immaculate girls with rich uncles who had nothing to do but have amazing adventures and be absolutely rebellious and get into scrapes, but they save the day, so all is forgiven. Looking at it now, I realized how plain and blasé the writing style actually is, considering that I was absolutely bored out of my skull till about halfway through the book—and from there I could pretty much predict the outcome of every choice. Very formulaic and typical. Okay, but unimpressive.

#7: The Book of Beasts (Hollow Earth #3)
John and Carole Barrowman

It's good when a story begins with a sigh and ends with a laugh. I have waited YEARS for this book... Well, okay, I ended up reading it exactly one year after I read the first one. There was the conflict, the characters who were my favorite were still my favorite, they defeated the bad guy, all the loose ends are firmly tied. Wasn't as sensational as I remembered, but it was fairly decent. The book definitely makes sure to deliver enough closure that the reader isn't hankering for more. Keep reading, though, for a book that REALLY brings it home at the end of a trilogy!

#6: A Blink of The Screen
Terry Pratchett

Pleasant, entertaining... A bit scattered, but that is to be expected. Pratchett is a master at telling an entire story with the fewest words possible. Each was only a few pages long, but the observations of the prose were more of a focus than the characters themselves. Every so often there would be an entertaining character in a one-shot tale, but then those would be interspersed with crazy things full of satirical double-entendre that would sail right over my head and I would be left confused as to what on earth was really going on. Still, it was pretty good.

#5: Beastly Bones (Jackaby #2)
William Ritter

A wonderful follow-up adventure for characters we've only just begun to meet as of the first book. This book does everything a sequel should do. The working relationship between Jackaby and Abigail has been established, so Ritter wisely looks elsewhere at other character interactions to probe and develop. And not just the budding relationship between Abigail and Charlie, but also Jenny who is developing as a character, and of course, seeing Jackaby at work outside of his usual stomping grounds. It's wonderful, it's wild, and there may be dragons involved. I actually mostly enjoyed this one. 

#4: Memory Man (Amos Decker #1)
David Baldacci

Winner all the way! A high-stakes premise, a main character with an unusual quirk, and a great mystery—Baldacci brings the thrills yet again! A former football player who took his first and last hit as a pro that knocked his brains into super-power mode, so that he cannot forget anything. He becomes a cop, but the stress is too much, so now he just does PI work—until he comes home to find his wife and daughter savagely murdered. Amos Decker is a fascinating character; for some people, perfect memory would be like making them untouchable (like so many shows where the guy pretends to be a psychic or a professional at the job but really it's photographic memory), but for Amos it's the worst curse there is, particularly when the murderer continues killing and blaming him for each one—so it's someone he has met, someone he does remember—but which one? That question kept me reading and guessing the whole time!

#3: Magnus Chase and the Guardians of Asgard: The Sword of Summer (Magnus Chase #1)
Rick Riordan

Bing-Bang-Boom! A solid winner with plenty to contend with for the rest of the series! I admit, with the bandying about of the name Magnus Chase... I completely forgot that this was also the surname of a character from the Percy Jackson series: namely, Annabeth. Remember her? Well, the daughter of Athena apparently has a cousin who is the son of Frey. And therefore all of Asgard has a bone to pick with him. It's a wild and crazy adventure all around Yggdrasil, with a mute dwarf and his friend who would rather design clothing than forge armor. Not as many "ancient prophecies" as in Percy Jackson, but there are Valkyries to avoid, Thor's hammer is missing, and Loki will try everything to trick Magnus into hastening Ragnarok. Including allowing his daughter to become a Valkyrie so she can be assigned to guarding Magnus. I loved it. Great start to a new series!

#2: Stars Above (Lunar Chronicles #4.5)
Marissa Meyer

OH THE FEELS THIS WAS EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED IN THE LUNAR CHRONICLES!! Granted, it was an anthology of a bunch of short novellas, but they were all brilliant! We get origin stories for Cinder, Wolf, Cress, and Thorne, a sci-fi retelling of The Little Mermaid (a story I am kind of attached to, myself!), and then A FREAKING EPILOGUE TO THE LUNAR CHRONICLES SERIES THAT IS SO ADORABLE I CAN'T EVEN!!! If you've read the series, you HAVE to read this one! Relive the awesome.

#1: Calamity (Reckoners #3)
Brandon Sanderson

YES!! YESS! I mean... What are we talking about here?
Okay, and the Top Of My List goes to Branderson! I have been pining for this book for just about a full year, and it did NOT disappoint! It's a situation that's been building since the very beginning, and an interesting paradigm that isn't seen very often: rather than actually fighting enemies, (or at least some of the time; yeah, there are still enemies, but not at the root of it all) these characters come to realize that they are actually fighting one another. They're fighting the one that's keeping secrets from everyone else. Even the "heroes" aren't impervious to the lure of making damaging choices in the name of "fixing things." David's metaphors have gotten better (only slightly!) and he is finding the answers he's been chasing ever since Steelheart killed his father... And those answers are not quite what he expects. I loved every bit of this book, and absolutely it is the best one I read in this batch!

Stay tuned for my next 10!

Previous Ranked Lists:
List #1
List #2 

Monday, July 4, 2016

Reader's Review: "Girls Can't Be Knights" by Lee French





Synopsis from Amazon:
Portland has a ghost problem.

Sixteen-year-old Claire wants her father back. His death left her only memories and an empty locket. After six difficult years in foster care, her vocabulary no longer includes "hope" and "trust".

Everything changes when Justin rides his magical horse into her path and takes her under his wing. Like the rest of the elite men who serve as Spirit Knights, he hunts restless ghosts that devour the living.

When an evil spirit threatens Claire's life, she'll need Justin's help to survive. And how could she bear the Knights' mark on her soul? Everybody knows Girls Can't Be Knights.

>>>>>>>

My Review:


Once again, a recommendation from +Jeffrey Cook  pays off! I have actually met Lee on a few occasions (usually in the company of Jeff) and at long last, I read her book.

What I expected was the normal "girl-who-nobody-expects-things-of-decides-to-stick-it-to-the-patriarchy-and-be-an-expert-at-everything" with a sizable dose of useless adults to underestimate and deride her as is typical for your average, mainstream YA. It's happened before, it could happen again.

What Lee presented was a girl hardened by lack of purpose, predisposed to assume the worst, because others assume it of her—and an adult figure who takes notice, who pursues her, and helps her make sense of her place in the world, without underestimating her or piling on more than she can handle. And the skills she has are more spurred by survival, not innate expertise far beyond one of her age. She has a lot to learn still. She makes mistakes, and learns from them.

I loved every moment of it. Justin and Marie are simply wonderful characters, quirky, messed-up, but absolutely going to bat for each other when it counts. Claire begins both vulnerable and hardened, a vagrant in her morals as well as purpose—but by the end, she has the confidence she needs, she has friends she can rely on, and she is beginning to understand her world in a deeper way than just living for today and for herself. Lee paints a vivid world and colors it with humor, sorrow, disappointment, and love. The fact that it's also basically set in my backyard only makes it more fun as I am reading and envisioning the different locations. I am intrigued by the concept of the Spirit Knights, and I would love to read more of the exploits of a crew I have steadily fallen in love with. The banter is perfect, the stakes are plenty high, the plot develops easily and the whole thing is just the greatest kind of rousing adventure from start to finish.

I would wholeheartedly give GIRLS CAN'T BE KNIGHTS a full *****5 STARS***** and add an Upstream Writer Certified HIGHLY RECOMMENDED rating too. I really loved it and I will definitely take any opportunity to continue the series! (The sequel has dragons... A weakness of mine!)

For lovers of secret knight orders, alternate dimensions existing within the real world, a legacy nobody saw coming, talking horses with attitude, and a realistic heroine everyone can relate to, look no further than GIRLS CAN'T BE KNIGHTS. It's a pleasant urban-fantasy adventure from a talented local author that readers of all ages can enjoy!
 

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Sunday Musings: Make 'Em Smile


*This was a post I wrote several years ago, then forgot about. I recently encountered it again, and found it just as convicting and true.

"When you become a Christian, things change about you. I know a lot of things changed about me. The trouble is, not all of these changes are positive. I know at least one thing that changed about me that I really didn't like: as my spirit became more sensitive, I became judgmental."

Since our usual pastor was away on a family trip one Sunday several years ago (in our former church), he asked one of the other dads in the church to share instead. I'm still mulling over what this man shared Sunday morning.

It was the most interesting message on the judgmental spirit that I'd ever heard. He shared on the issue of judgment from three aspects: God's responsibility, the church's responsibility, and our personal responsibility. The major subpoints he made was that God has total responsibility for meting out judgment, and He makes it very clear in His Word exactly where the church must step in as His agent, but personally, our responsibility in the area of judgment is one of two things: discernment and restoration. We are not the ones in charge of foisting a penalty onto the people whom we "judge" in our minds. One of the verses he shared was Romans 2:1: "Therefore you are inexcusable, O man, whoever you are who judge, for in whatever you judge another you condemn yourself; for you who judge practice the same things." When we judge another in pride, we run the risk of showing the same lack of character.

He shared dozens more verses on the subject, and I noticed a pattern: whenever God talks about His judgment, it carries punishments and consequences to the full extent of His law. In regards to churches' judgment, it is largely the church's responsibility to maintain the integrity of the flock, while allowing God to still be the one to mete out judgment on the wicked person. However, whenever it speaks of personal judgment, does it say that the individuals are just in shutting the person out of their circles? Does the Bible encourage us to close of our spirits to one another? He shared Galatians 6:1: "Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted." We are called to do everything possible to restore the person we are tempted to cut off, and how can we do that if we avoid them?

Couple that with a healthy sense of discernment. It is not our job to separate the wheat from the tares. That's God's judgment. God calls us to restore the one who is mistaken in his thinking, who is trapped in his sin, but what about those people who make a lifestyle out of sin? Is it okay to be judgmental of the evil people who intentionally pattern their lives wholly against God's Word? The speaker shared the verses we all know about the consequences of sin, how everyone who sins and breaks the Ten Commandments shall not enter the kingdom of Heaven under any circumstances, and how the wages of sin is in no uncertain terms death. 

The actions of the sinners already has consequences from God. God is acting His judgment against them; why do we need to add ours to it? I would submit that perhaps the answer is no. It is not all right to be judgmental and self-righteous and speak evilly of another person, even if their choices are wrong. The verse that comes to my mind right now (it wasn't quite in the sermon, but I really think it applies) is Ephesians 4:29: "Let no corrupt word proceed out of your mouth, but what is good for necessary edification, that it may impart grace to the hearers." I think that word "hearers" includes non-believers. (I mean, honestly; if the verse meant "just Christians", I'm pretty sure Paul would have been the kind of guy to use the word "brethren" when he meant "brethren"; by using "hearers," he made it all-inclusive, see?) If this is so, how can we as Christians follow the instructions of this verse when we say unwholesome things about the unbelievers who make wrong choices according to God's Word?
One of the hardest things for us to do as Christians is follow the old adage, "Hate the sin; love the sinner." We think (and I speak from personal experience), "How can I love somebody who purposely decides to steal/lie/cheat etc.? That kind of person is a bad person, how can I love a bad person?" Good question.

I liked the way this man applied his message. One would think that he could, in the role of pastor, say "So, the take-home is 'Don't be judgmental, because Jesus says to love your enemies.'" He totally could have said that, and been correct. But would it have meant anything? We of the congregation would have been left with the same questions and no way to figure out the answer on our own.

But he didn't say that.

Instead, he gave us a creative challenge: "When you find someone who you are tempted to write off, to ignore, to avoid--usually someone with a frown or a bad attitude or just a gruff demeanor, someone who makes you scowl to look at or think of them....do your best to get them to smile." He got the idea from Zig Zaglar, the famous motivational speaker. I think it is golden, and I'll tell you why.

How can you get someone to smile? You do something for them, you give them a gift, you spend time with them, (you tickle them.... well, okay, I wouldn't recommend that one for anyone over the age of two....), you find something to say that would encourage them....

In short: You love them. You cannot--you will not, you do not even possess the capacity to--make someone smile if you do not first make the decision to overlook their faults and love them. Making those people smile is I think almost a covert way of loving them in your hearts without your mind (the part that usually judges someone and writes them off in the first place) even realizing it. Make them smile with your words, and hey! You never spent money, you didn't even have to tell jokes for any length of time to make them laugh, even, you didn't have to know enough about them to buy a gift... but you made them smile, and you are one step closer to loving them as Christ would.
This, my friends, is a fulfillment of Ephesians 4:29: When you make a non-believer smile, other non-believers notice. You may even have gained a hearing with the non-believer who now smiles when he or she remembers you. You have effectively "ministered grace unto the hearers." And when you share your experience in making someone smile among those in your church, I would think that falls solidly in the category of "good for necessary edification." You will be an encouragement to believers when you share of how God inspired you to make someone smile, and you have just encouraged non-believers too, by making them smile.

So: Don't focus on merely "not judging" or "loving your enemies." Just make them smile instead, that's all. It doesn't have to be a laugh, though I think you can chalk yourself up "bonus points" if the person laughs! See what God will do through you when you "... Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who spitefully misuse you..." (Matthew 5:44)

Saturday, July 2, 2016

The Suggestion Box, Vol. 3: "One Thousand Words" List #49


Suggested By: +Kimberly Rogers 

The List:
-Bronwen
-Dark Ages
-ancient forest
-net

The Result:

"His First Quest"
 
The sun beat down unmercifully on the back of his neck. Every part of him crawled with sweat. He wore only light armor—pauldrons over his chain mail tunic covered only by a leather jerkin—but the weight of it only increased with each weary step. He could see the forest on the horizon, but his steps never seemed to bring him any closer.
"Holy One," he prayed under his breath as he pulled out a kerchief to wipe the sweat from his eyes, "grant me strength!"

It was in God's cause that the knight traveled in such circumstances; he needed to find his sacred quest to accomplish in order to receive his Holy Commission. He closed his eyes and let his feet carry him down the path till he sensed the light around him changing. He opened his eyes. The ancient forest loomed before him, the dark, aging trunks twisting a gnarled path between the ground and the drooping, thick canopy.

"Yes," he sighed, "Here, on the eighteenth of June, in the year of Our Lord seven hundred sixty, Sir Martin ventured forth upon his quest!"

He stepped into the shadows of the trees, his eyes scanning the surroundings carefully. This forest, with it's perpetual shady darkness and plenty of roots to hide under, above, within—was the perfect place for cutpurses and assassins to hide. He wasn't going to make an easy target—but he shuddered to think what other dangers awaited him.

The thick foliage seemed to swallow all sound as Sir Martin advanced into the midst of it. The soft ground muffled the sound of his boots. A heavy weight hung unnaturally on the air. Sir Martin wondered if it meant some kind of enchantment on the air—then he wondered if a person could breathe magic. Was it like an apothecary's vapors? Would it steal away his senses the more he breathed? The stalwart knight pushed aside these dire thoughts as he pressed onward, ever vigilant for anything that could constitute a quest for him.

He had wandered some distance when a movement in the bushes caught his eye. Sir Martin halted and stared at the spot that moved. It fluttered again, and he could clearly discern the shape of a bird's wing. The relief rolled over his shoulders. A bird was nothing to be anxious over. He took two paces, and the wing flapped again, in the same spot. This puzzled him; why, if the bird was frightened enough to flap its wings, would it not fly away? He noted how the wing seemed to beat in the same place, without ever moving or changing positions. He inched closer to the tree while the bird still flapped madly. Standing directly underneath the branch, Martin could see the net that was no doubt the cause of the bird's distress. Part of the fine, dark mesh had gotten twisted around one of the wings; part of the knight's mind wanted to continue on to find a quest, but the other part reminded him that good things came to those who were kind to woodland creatures such as birds. 

With strong fingers he carefully unfastened the net from the tree. One wing lashed out frantically at him, but being covered with feathers, it wasn't very threatening. He brought the net and bird down and began untangling the fibers while the bird seemed to hide within its wings. 
"It's all right now," he spoke soothingly to it. "I'm going to help you."
There was something wrong about its body; the beak was not the shape he expected—

Sir Martin gasped and nearly dropped the bird. A tiny foot had touched his hand... But not a bird foot like he was expecting! He cradled the animal in two hands as the strangely-shaped body seemed to shift and fall away, revealing a tiny woman with bird's wings! The "body" of the bird had been a cloak she wore that covered her whole body. 
Sir Martin shook his head, blinking hard. "Do I dream?" He gasped. "Has the enchantment of the air clouded my senses and caused unnatural visions?"

The woman glanced up at the face looming over her, and her eyes flashed in fright. She struggled to stand in Sir Martin's hands and spread her wings—but even as she did so, Martin saw the wing that had been most tangled hung at an odd angle. The small creature tried to fly away, but the broken wing would not move, and she spun and flopped toward the ground.
"Wait!" Sir Martin dove in a crouch to catch her again. Now he knelt in the soft grass of the forest floor. "It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "Be still."

The creature ceased her futile efforts and curled her small body into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest like a human would. The soft sounds of sorrow reached Sir Martin's ear. He held up the former prisoner before him.
"Do you speak?" He asked.
She did not raise her head, but nodded it.

"What is your name, little one?" He asked gently.
She lifted her head and looked at him, but averted her eyes almost immediately. "Bronwen," she answered.

"My name is Sir Martin. What manner of creature are you? I have never seen anything like you!"

Bronwen looked up at him. "I am a woodland fairy. What are you doing in the ancient forest, Sir Martin?"

The knight sighed, "It is every knight's duty to perform a quest to prove he is able. I was looking for mine when I came across this forest and found you trapped in that poacher's net." He paused. "How came you to be so ensnared?"

Bronwen shook her head and sat upon Sir Martin's palm. She had lovely brown hair and a simple white dress. "It was my own fault. I should have been heading for the Druid Circle at the center of the forest, where others of my kind live, but instead I stopped to chase a squirrel around the trees. I didn't see the net till it was too late." She fingered the feathers on her broken wing.
Sir Martin considered the weak, vulnerable fairy that had just happened across his path. "Perhaps your presence is a sign," he mused.
"Pardon?" Bronwen looked up at him, letting her knees drop to the side in a more comfortable position.

Sir Martin smiled as the idea appealed to him. "I came in here looking for a quest--perhaps helping you will either be my quest, or help me get closer to it."

Bronwen clasped her tiny hands as her good wing fluttered. "Are you certain? It doesn't really sound like much of a quest; I have no special gifts to bestow on you."
Martin waved his other hand. "It is no great matter," he said. "While it is true, most quests do consist of slaying some beast or other, a knight such as I cannot be above such a journey as this; who knows what challenges we may face? Surely you wouldn't make it all the way there on your own."

Bronwen smiled and stood to display her thanks with a curtsey. "I would be most grateful, Sir Knight! It is true, the forest is dangerous for the fairy-folk such as me. Perhaps you might even get the opportunity to slay the Beast of the Forest after all!"
Martin stood and placed the small fairy upon his shoulder, where she rested comfortably against his pauldron. "What's this? Tell me more; what manner of beast is it?"

"A most cunning and devious kind," Bronwen assured him as they ventured deeper into the forest. "With long claws and thick fangs and twisted horns, it roams this forest, looking to capture the fairies. It is deadly and intelligent; I believe the Beast set up the nets in the tree, just in case a fairy might go wandering too far away from the Circle--as I did." She hung her head.

Sir Martin loosened his scabbard. "How will I know if the beast is close by?" he asked, dropping his voice to a hush.
"Its feet are like the claws of wolves," she told him. "And its fur carries a distinct, musty odor. It likes to hide in deep shadows, so as long as we stay on this path lit by daylight," she pointed to the bright thread running through the forest, illuminated by the sunbeams pouring through the canopy, "we will be safe enough."

Sir Martin had other ideas. "I would rather track the beast than avoid it," he stated, scanning the ground for claw-prints.
"What?" Bronwen gasped, tucking her body closer into the flared edge of the pauldron. "I thought you intended to escort me safely to the Druid Circle!"
"Have no fear, little pixie," Sir Martin paused to reassure her. "You are in the company of a Knight; I will protect you." 

"And who might you be?" A loud voice startled them both.

Sir Martin dropped his hand and surveyed the newcomer, an elderly man with a wide girth and a well-worn tunic, who looked as if he had been traveling through the forest from the other side. His stringy grey hair hung off his scalp and down his shoulders, but his eyes still held a bright twinkle.
Sir Martin nodded to the man. "I am a knight on a mission, in search of a holy quest."

"Is that so?" said the old man, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Fare you well on your quest, then! The Ancient Forest is a queer place to search--but then again, it might be well for the likes of you." He squinted at the feathered shape busily trying to make itself invisible on the knight's shoulder. "Is that a bird you have taken for companionship in lieu of a horse?"

Martin cast a quick glance to make sure Bronwen had her bird-cloak covering secured over her. "Yes, it is. I rescued it from a poacher's trap further back in the forest, and one of its wings was broken, so I carry it on my shoulder." Bronwen's head came up over the edge of her wing. Since she had time to conceal herself properly, she actually looked like a real bird, and she chirped like one. Martin reached up to stroke her wings.

The old man stared with eyes full of sympathy. "Y'don't say? Poor birdie; all the hunters that live around these woods spell danger for many woodland folk. Many's the creature I've nursed back to health after freeing it from a trap!" He reached toward Bronwen, who shrank back and squawked frantically at her newfound friend. The old man glanced at Sir Martin. "May I?"

Sir Martin evaluated the man. He could see tenderness in his hands, and his face held no guile. "Of course," he answered, reaching to where Bronwen sought to bury herself under the pauldron rather than leave his shoulder. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I'm right here, I won't let anything happen to you."

She continued to chirp and squawk so loudly that Sir Martin doubted she heard him. Her wings flapped against his hand like she wanted to hold on and not let go of him, but at last, the tiny winged form had changed hands. The old man inspected her with practiced eyes. "Yes, I see," he murmured. "I see you, little fairy."

Sir Martin flinched at the comment, but his arms wouldn't move to reclaim his friend as the old man chuckled. The knight looked down at his body. Dark roots had sprung from the soft dirt, winding around him and pinning his arms at his sides. He looked back at the man in bewilderment. "What--"
As the man stepped out of the beam of light and back into the shade, his form began to twist and bend. Spindly, tangled horns sprouted from his head, sharp fangs protruded from his mouth, and the hand that cradled the frantic fairy seemed to elongate into a cage from which she could not escape.
"Thank you, sir knight," said the beast, staring at him with beady, golden eyes. "I have been seeking a fairy for a long time. Fare you well!" he cackled as he mocked, withdrawing deeper into the forest.
Sir Martin struggled against the roots, but to no avail. His first quest, and he had failed to the utmost!
"Bronwen!" he called after them. "Bronwen, I'm sorry! I'll find you! I'll save you! I swear it!"

Continuous Stories:
 





                              (Soul Mates Part 9/Serenity's Light Part  4)


Single Posts:















#26 "The Tides of Battle"




#19 "Story Time"








#1 "Red of Morning"

Friday, July 1, 2016

Flash Fiction Friday: "Heartsong", Part 7 of 7

 
He was drowning, and it was all her fault—and there was nothing she could do about it. The song that had echoed in her mind for the last two weeks now raged in her tympani, and she knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long.

"Aren't you pleased?" Terrine whistled from right beside her. "Haven't you been biding your time, saving him for us to be able to prove that we are worthy to become your pod?"
Jasper left off singing and moved to taunt her. Keerah's voice was strong enough to keep working on wearing down Kellan's willpower by herself. 
"Of course it's what she wanted!" She sneered at Terrine. "There could be no other reason a siren would ever want to spend so much time above the surface. She had to win his trust so that he would be an easy mark for us!" She sent piercing tones of mocking derision rippling through the water, even as Adeliyah bucked and pulled with all her might against the chains, shaking her head furiously. "Surely you didn't think we wouldn't find out, did you, Adeliyah? A siren's throat changes to be able to sing like we do; you might not have noticed, but your foolish attempts to try a human manner of speaking have slowly changed the sound of your voice. Kyrran told us that you might be visiting the surface and vocalizing out of the water, so we did some searching between boat raids... And what did we find?" She turned back to where Terrine had joined Keelah. "A witless worm on a hook!" 
He was fading. She could see his eyes rolling back, his body going limp; soon he would lose the ability to resist altogether.

Isn't that what she wanted? But Adeliyah had just begun to understand him, and the part of humanity he represented. His accusation of her in their last conversation still gnawed at her; it really was unfair to keep drowning so many people in a futile attempt at trying to satiate cravings for vengeance—the more they reaped, the more they craved. But how to make the other sirens see?

Kellan's body had nearly reached the floor of the bay, when Adeliyah saw his legs snap rigid. A new voice joined the other three, subtle at first, but growing and swelling, deeper and stronger times than the ones resonating all around her. Kellan's head came up, and the knot of sirens began to swirl in agitation as one by one they realized he was not only emitting careful tones underwater—but matching the melody they sang! Kellan sang his own heartsong, patiently humming out the music he heard, not understanding it, but knowing enough from his interactions with Adeliyah that he could effectually cancel out the effect of the siren song.
 
Jasper lunged at him with a scream, "HE MUST BE STOPPED!"
 
Kellan dodged her attack, lashing out with his feet at her midsection, and grabbing her thin, filmy tail with both hands. The sirens all gathered above him and behind him, cutting off his escape in every direction. Adeliyah knew that they would grab him no matter where he swam—except one direction. She thrashed to get his attention, and held his gaze as she do often did. Kellan was still matching the notes of his heartsong as best he could, but he could at least ask the question with his eyes, as the sirens hovered behind him. More were on their way, and soon the two would be cut off completely. 
Adeliyah nodded.
 
Kellan stopped singing and lunged for the bound siren, reaching toward her head. Adeliyah felt something snap at the back of her neck, and suddenly, Kellan held her locket on a broken chain. He yanked out the gag, and nodded to Adeliyah, holding the locket against the lock of her chain, and turning it like a key. The action produced a noise, the one that Adeliyah needed to sound the mechanism of the lock. She began singing the "song" of the lock, feeling the tumblers loosen and bend, the way timbers bent on the ships she sank. Meanwhile, Jasper and Keelah had regained a hold on Kellan, and they were frantically trying to smother his mouth so that he would stop singing and drown properly. Adeliyah sang till she saw the lock fall away, and her chains slipped off as she floated free. She did not hesitate; as soon as she could swim, she shot straight for the struggling human, wrapping her arms around him and carrying him far away from the angry sirens. She swam until she had no strength left, and she had reached shallow waters.
Both were so worn out from the ordeal that they let the current carry them onto the beach, still wrapped in each other's arms.

Kellan gasped as the fresh air wafted over him. He looked at the pale-blue figure lying next to him. Melody... Adelaide; this former woman so cruelly mistreated had used her fantastic abilities to help him—and now those changes she had endured that made her so powerful under the water were beginning to hasten her death outside of it. Her breath came slow and raspy; her skin began to grey and darken as she suffocated on air that her siren body was not accustomed to processing. She watched him with those enchanting eyes—so full of trust and longing.
In that moment, Kellan thought of a song, a pleasant little nonsense ditty that he felt sounded familiar, but he couldn't think where he had heard it. Maybe it would be of some comfort to the dying siren, so he began to sing the words as they came to his mind.

"My love is the ocean,
So vast and deep;
My heart is a locket,
Your love to keep.

Live on, my love,
May your heart be true,
For let it be said
That I love you."

He saw Adelaide's eyes roll in her head, but she reached up and stroked his face with her rubbery, webbed hand.
"Si... Ssss.. Sing," she gasped.
 
Kellan sang the song again, and again, as each repetition seemed to give Adelaide strength—no, more than strength, he finally realized. 
As he watched and sang, Adelaide seemed to transform before his eyes, her filmy skin taking on a softer appearance, her grey skin shifting to white and then taking on a pinker shade of human skin. He kept singing until pale human hands grabbed his shoulders, and Adelaide gave a tremendous gasp through full, human lips. She was no longer a siren, but a woman now, wearing a dress badly damaged by the water. Kellan smiled and stroked the bits of algae and seaweed out of her dark hair. Her eyes no longer bulged, but had receded to normal human size, taking on a pretty grey-blue color. He supported her as she sat up to survey her newly-restored human form.
 
"Kellan," she gasped in a sweet, musical voice, "you saved me."
 
Kellan wrapped his arms around her. "You brought us away from the sirens, Adelaide," he acknowledged.
 
She shook her head. "No, I mean you saved me from being a siren!"
 
Kellan frowned and looked at her. "I did? But how? And what was that song?"
 
Adelaide smiled. "It was my heartsong. No one ever sang it before. You did, and it brought me back."
 
"I sang your heartsong?" Kellan repeated. A smile teased around his lips. "Does that mean I have you in my thrall now?"
 
Adelaide smiled in return. "Yes, Kellan; now and forever, my heart completely belongs to you." 
 
He brought her to her feet and, slowly, they came together for a kiss. When they pulled apart, Kellan whispered, "Sing mine."
 
"What?" Adelaide whispered back.
 
"Sing my heartsong," Kellan replied. "I know you heard it, even if you never could sing it as a siren."
 
Adelaide nodded, burying her face in his shoulder. "I did hear it, every day from the moment you dove into the water. But I couldn't sing it, because I couldn't stand the thought of you drowning, after watching you save that man."
 
Kellan held her close. "So even then, you wanted me to live."
 
"I did."
 
Kellan reached down and grabbed her hands. "There is no chance of me drowning now, Adelaide. Just as I sang your heartsong out of love for you, I believe you can sing mine out of love, not revenge. Sing!"
 
Adelaide opened her mouth and sang the heartsong that had pounded in her ears all this while. It poured out of her mouth, and when Kellan joined in with her heartsong, the two melodies became one symphony of hearts.
 
And they both loved each other to the end of their days.

THE END
 
Further Reading:
-"The Glow" (A 3-Part Story)

Saturday, June 25, 2016

The Suggestion Box, Vol. 3: "One Thousand Words" List #48


Suggested by: Claerie Kavanaugh


The List:
-Faith
-a rural village
-midday
-wyvern


The Result:
                              "Adventure Comes To Tea"


In a rural village just outside of Scrabster, Scotland, Cordelia Quincy sat down in her kitchen to a freshly-brewed cup of tea. She looked forward to this midday ritual, her moment of solace in the midst of the hustle and bustle of every day.

Faith Dunmore had called. She would be visiting her friend, Darren Alexander, next Thursday, and she wondered if Cordelia might like to come out and visit them, to reminisce about old times and the adventures they had together.


The eccentric woman smiled as she sipped her black tea. She almost missed those days of keeping watch, hearing prophecies, and dreaming of the fulfillment of her family’s legacy. Now that it was over, she found it almost difficult to resume normal life in the quiet countryside, where the most exciting thing to happen was someone’s livestock getting loose and going for a jaunt two farms over—and even that did not happen often enough to keep the restless woman happy.

“Why can’t there be more dragons in the world?” she sighed. Perhaps she would accept Faith’s invitation after all.


Cordelia crossed the kitchen to the blocky white plastic telephone hanging in its cradle mounted upon the wall. As she picked up the receiver, her eyes roved over the garden outside—

And the grubby young boy disentangling himself from the wisteria.

Phone call forgotten, Cordelia charged out the garden door. The boy must have seen her coming, because he was halfway across the yard by the time she reached the threshold.

“You!” Cordelia cried, because she didn’t know how else to get his attention, “Stay! Wait!”

The boy disappeared down the dirt path leading through the forest behind her house. Cordelia stopped and winced as a sharp rock menaced her bare feet. Some part of her considered going back to the house for her shoes, but the part that won out was the part that threw caution and sensibility to the wind and took off down the forest path.


“Wait!” She called again. “I’m a friend! Why are you running?”


Where had he gone? Cordelia could see small footprints in the mud. Evidently, the boy had more practice at hiding his body than covering his trail. She soon found him, huddled in the crook of a tree, high up out of sight of most people—but Cordelia never considered herself “most people.” She stopped and watched him hold very still as if he hoped she didn’t actually see him.


“Hello,” she called.

“Go away!” he grunted.


Cordelia only smiled at him. He couldn’t have been more than twelve years old, and she rather liked his unruly mop of nut-brown hair.

“If you didn’t want me to follow you, then you shouldn’t have cut through my yard,” she noted brightly.

The boy hung his head. “Didn’t know it was yours.”


“Well, it wasn’t the forest, so it had to belong to somebody. You’re just lucky it wasn’t Mr. George’s; he probably would have shot you for trespassing.”


The eyes came up, pointed at her so keenly that she could almost make out their smoky blue color, even from this distance. He looked pained.


“Poor thing,” Cordelia said softly, “are you hurt?”


“Not me.” The blue eyes disappeared, and the boy looked like he wanted to shrink again.


“I am Cordelia,” she moved on, still standing under the tree. “What is your name?”


The eyes came out again, a bit mystified at the way she persisted in talking to him.

“David,” he murmured.


“Would you like to be my friend, David?”


The confusion ran deeper still. “I suppose.”


“Don’t you want to be friends?” Cordelia raised her eyebrows innocently.

“Been just fine without ‘em,” David said, with just a hint of sulk behind his words.


“Oh!” Cordelia’s expression widened in shock. “Don’t you have any friends at all?”


David sat up, still on his perch, but he let his feet dangle, swinging them easily in the air. “Got me one friend,” he said proudly, “and that’s plenty.”


Cordelia smiled and gestured back to the house, hoping she read him correctly. “Well, David, I was just about to have some tea. If I offered some to you, would you be friends with me?”

David wrinkled his nose and giggled. “Don’t like tea,” he said.


Cordelia smiled wider; progress was progress! “But surely you know what comes with the tea, don’t you?” she backed up a few steps.


Sure enough, David dropped down to the very lowest branch, to stay near her. “Don’t know what you mean,” he said, in a voice that told Cordelia he might be imagining that very thing right now.


“It’s never just tea,” she assured him. “Sometimes there are sandwiches, or biscuits, or cakes—or all three.” She was backing up steadily now, and he was following, step by hesitant step. She saw the way his eyes bulged and his mouth danced at the thought of food. The poor thing probably hadn’t had a decent meal in a long while—terrible shame for a growing boy!


“All three?” he repeated.


“Yes.” Slowly, Cordelia held out her hand to him. He was close enough to touch her now. “Would you like that?”


David was in the act of raising his hand when—

“My friend,” he dropped his hand and glanced back toward the forest. “He might not like it; I told him I wouldn’t leave.”


Cordelia wasn’t about to lose this boy who positively reeked of adventure. “Your friend can come too!” She promised.


David grinned at her, and the blue eyes danced under the shaggy curls. “No, he really couldn’t,” he said, snickering at some hidden joke.


“Why not?” Cordelia very much wanted to know what the joke was.


“He’s hurt, and that’s why I’ve got to stay.” David planted his feet, and he wasn’t about to budge an inch further.


Cordelia dropped the pleading demeanor and became at once more firm. “Now then, David,” she said, gesturing behind him. “We are in my yard; are you coming in or not?”


David looked around in surprise. He never realized they had moved—and she had brought him all the way out of the forest without forcing! He sighed. “Oh all right—but only for sandwiches and cakes.”


Cordelia grinned and marched toward the house. “You shall have them all, my lad!” she cried.



[…]



“That was delicious, Miss Cordelia,” David murmured, wiping the crumbs from the corners of his mouth. “Now I reckon I better get back to my friend before—“


The sound as if an entire house of glass collapsed on itself rang out through the streets. Cordelia flinched and cringed in alarm, but David bounded to his feet. Outside, people began screaming.


“Oh no,” David muttered. “I knew this was a bad idea! I knew he would come looking for me!”


“Who?” Cordelia flew to the window to see what was the matter.


“My friend!” David cried.


Cordelia stood outside her front door and surveyed the source of all this chaos. She smiled; her wish had come true, after all!


“Why, David,” she prodded the stricken young boy beside her, “all this time, you never once told me that your friend was an actual wyvern!” She couldn’t take her eyes off the magnificent creature--nor the dark-colored wound in its side.


David glanced at her with apprehension. “Will you help him, then?”