Two Women and Some Books
A little taste of Sky Stone by Scarlett Van Dijk
I listened intently, mouth hanging open in astonishment. Nothing seemed real—this must be a dream. I decided to stick with that conclusion and took another sip of my tea. Aaron merely sat sipping his, nodding occasionally during Aiyanna’s story, as though this was common knowledge.
“A Sky Guardian,” Aaron finally whispered thoughtfully. “I didn’t think another would come to Tolla after Lae was killed.”
Despite the calming effect of the tea, I nearly choked. “Killed? Why was he killed?”
“King Marius’s soldiers got him. That power-hungry mongrel managed to get his precious Sky Stone and right under our noses, too.” Aaron sighed sadly. “Lae was a Sky Guardian just like you. Brought to us by the White Maiden to bring balance, and given special abilities for that purpose.”
Seeing my confused look, he explained, “Marius is the king of our enemy, Tryzon, across the River Drell, which separates the two nations of our country, Branzia. He has been trying for years to find a way to harness the power of the Sky Stones without being a Sky Guardian himself.”
“I’m still confused, but I don’t think I want to know right now,” I said calmly and sipped my tea. Sky Guardians? Sky Stones? Evil kings that are after them? I don’t care right now but I’ll play along. This is a very interesting dream.
“You’ll have to find out about all this eventually. You’ll quite likely have an important task given to you soon. But until then, watch your back. I don’t think any of King Marius’s spies would have found out about you just yet,” Aiyanna said a little too calmly.
“I’m going for a walk,” I said and stood confidently, turned and walked towards the door.
“I don’t think she believes this is real,” I heard Aaron whisper to Aiyanna as I left.
“She’ll work it out soon enough,” Aiyanna replied.
Find the books on Amazon or learn more about Scarlett Van Dijk.
We get to have a brief chat with Skyla, heroine of the Sky Stone series by Scarlett Van Dijk
Question 1: How do you handle the responsibility of being handed a great deal of power?
I’ll admit that at first I didn’t handle it well. After all, what can one girl do when told she’s supposed to kill the enemy king of a land she knew nothing about? But now I’ve kind of gotten used to my duty as a Sky Guardian, even if I’m not particularly happy about it. I just can’t look away from those that are suffering and I tend to blame myself. Even though I know that, I can’t help it. Aaron says I’m too self-sacrificing and that I always take on the burden myself without asking for help. But if there’s a way I can keep those I care about from getting hurt, then I’d rather put just myself in danger.
My ability to manipulate fire makes most people either awe struck or terrified of me. It depends which side of the River Drell they live on mostly. They call me the Phoenix because of it. My power scares me. It has helped me numerous times, but I also hate it. Some of my friends can manipulate the other elements, they can help to build things. Fire can only destroy. I feel like that’s all I’m good at. Yet, I’m determined to use my power to protect everything I care about!
Question 2: Is there anything or anyone you miss from the twenty-first century?
I miss nothing from my old home. I never belonged there. I felt stagnant, like I wasn’t able to move forward. I didn’t have any friends and my foster mother was focused on trying to ‘fix’ me after the accident that killed my real mother. The only thing I really had was archery practice, but I guess it wasn’t a skill much use in a modern world. I have purpose now and have no reason to go back.
Question 3: What makes you laugh?
My friends make me laugh I guess. But mostly Ellis. He’s a teen trainee mage in the Royal castle. He’s a prankster and likes to invent new things, especially magic devices. He’s super smart but hates history class. I don’t know why because I love history! He’s very eccentric and always manages to make me smile. One of my favourite memories of him is when he borrowed my magic spawn pet, Ilyarahh, because he knew his history tutor was scared of the creatures. The old scholar ran away, I had been surprised he could run so fast! Ellis was so proud of himself I couldn’t help but laugh.
If you want to know more visit Skyla on Amazon, Facebook or Goodreads
‘You can’t stop the music
Nobody can stop the music…’
‘Stop that infernal caterwauling.’ I stopped dancing around the mulberry bush and looked up. I had sneaked out of Fairyland last night to see the human band The Village People. Oh, the costumes, the music, the glamour! I hadn’t been able to get the songs out of my head. They had been the only band I had been to where saying I was from Fairyland made me friends instead of earning me a beating.
The dark visage of Wizard Nofun glared over my fence. It was tough living next door to a wizard – I could never get those horrid smells out of the curtains, not to mention the infernal creatures that missed the summoning address. You’ve just got no idea how it interrupts a dinner party having one of the 6th level demons poke his head through the table.
‘I was only singing,’ I pouted and put my hands on my hips. That would show him. This morning I had started growing a moustache, so I whiffled the stubble at him for good measure.
His face turned a dark purple green and he pointed a long unmanicured finger at me.
I felt my throat constrict and then expand, my head boinging up and down like a Jack in the box. Knobs grew on my chest, and I could feel the tops of my ears sprouting skywards.
‘Sing then and be damned,’ he snarled, and stomped off.
My fingers explored my chest, and I pressed one of the knobs. My ears twirled wildly above my head and my throat vibrated.
‘Down in devil gate drive…’ a woman’s voice tore out of me. Not good.
I twisted my new anatomy.
‘Unforgettable in every way…’ Nice, but dull. I twisted again. Funny, it didn’t hurt- felt quite good really.
‘YMCA… come and join us at the YMCA…’
What bliss! I danced back into the house, my arms jerking into letter shapes and my hips thrusting. Now, some incidental magic for costumes and I was on my way.
Music.
Costumes.
Glamour.
My own nightclub in Fairyland.
…With me on the stage!!!
I thrust my hips in the general direction of Wizard Nofuns castle. Ha.
I pressed a chest button.
You can’t stop the music…
Nobody can stop the music…’
My heart started beating faster. I’d got one. It was there. Tip of my tongue. Like that first delicious sliver of ice cream slowly melting in your mouth. But I didn’t want to know just yet. I was savouring it. It might be my last.
Since the technology had been launched, there had been so much research into what ‘it’ actually was. That was how the early millionaires were made. They were the lucky ones now. They didn’t have to bang their heads in frustration trying to find the next one. And where did they come from anyway? No-one knew, no-one had any answers or if they did, they weren’t sharing and were making their own fortunes instead. You couldn’t blame them.
Imagine, people used to think it was like golden dust that fell upon us, landing on only one in a million. Thankfully that wasn’t the general rule but for the unlucky ones, it might as well be. It had been scientifically proven that some people were genetically predisposed to get more than others. And what about the poor schleps who never had one in their whole life?
Well, we all knew what they did now. They served. And if they refused they were… recycled. Their genetic material destroyed so as not to dilute the process in the future.
It might not be a perfect world order but it had certainly created order. Criminals were stopped before they even fully knew what they were going to do. War was a thing of myth. There was no need for armies or generals or even Presidents anymore. The true kings of the world were the idealists.
And all it had taken was a simple thought processing chip. The big giants like Google & Apple had missed the boat, they were dinosaurs now but at the time they’d scrambled for a piece of the pie. They were too late. The Inspir-O had been born and thanks to a forward thinker high-up in world governance, everyone had one. Whether they wanted one or not. Easier to distribute that sort of thing then you might think. Nanobots. Now that was one in a million.
Forget political connections, forget prestige, forget platinum blonde & fake tan celebrity-itis – what now defined the winners and losers was a single thought process. Often one you only ever had subconsciously. It made and broke entire families in the blink of an eye. They used to say you could never have a bad one but that was debunked early on.
People had tried lobotomies, mind wipes, telepathic shielding, isolated living – the whole nine yards. In the early days, those with the funds had even tried running into space. It hadn’t made a difference. The Inspir-O was a machine in more ways than one. It caught them all, the good, the bad and the ugly. It didn’t matter who you were. It just boiled down to whether the logarithm agreed or not.
My phone pinged. Game over. Inspire-O had picked it up. Now I would know. Was my idea worth.
Read the story behind the story.
To enjoy more writing by Claire Buss check out The Gaia Effect and Tales from Suburbia
Now you’re actually asking an English person to choose between cake & scones when it’s a well know fact that scones form part of afternoon tea or high tea if you’re super posh. Afternoon tea not only comes with ridiculously small and pointless sandwiches it also comes with delicious cakes of which scones are one option. Together with jam and cream. In fact, the definition of scone is as follows:
scone – skɒn,skəʊn
If you had asked me whether it was scone or scone, I might have been able to answer.
I love that we have a royal family. I can’t quite explain what it is about them that fills me with such national pride. It might have been that I was born within days of Charles & Diana’s wedding so maybe I absorbed all that patriotism whilst still in the womb. My own little boy was born within days of Prince George and together we have waved our nation’s flag and cheered loudly when the Queen came to visit our little borough.
Dragon because … look, I don’t want to go into it but everyone knows that unicorns can’t be trusted. It’s all those rainbows coming out of their ass. And who in their right mind would want a horn in the middle of their forehead? Dragons, now dragons get to horde gold and be bad tempered and eat anyone they don’t like. What’s not to love?
Dear Reader Who Writes,
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV and you will, of course, be aware that I am the author of “Fatswhistle and Buchtooth” – a peregrination by two quintessential heroes through a fascinating multiplex universe of fantasy and science fiction worlds. This dazzling tour de force has been riding high on the Amazon Best Seller list at Number One (Million) for the last two years.
Perusing the wonders of the worldwide web I came upon this pathetic attempt at a blog and, seeing what a veritable dog’s petit dejeuner these two ladies are making of it, simple humanity demanded that I should shoulder them aside when my exacting schedule permits and offer you my golden nuggets of wisdom on the pitfalls of this literary milieu.
Thus, having presented you with my bona fides, and assured you of my good intentions, you will readily see that I offer the summum bonum of excellence in writing practice.
So I bid you pay heed, fair Reader Who Writes. Oh and to save my valuable time, I will reduce you to initials for the rest of this, RWW.
Did you see what I did there, RWW? Now, the important thing, if you want to write a book, is to be properly prepared. You don’t just sit down and start writing, you need calming rituals, mood music and the perfect scene. More of those vital rituals in the future, today I want to look at how to establish a perfect writing environment.
It is all about location, location, location! Personally, one has one’s supremely masculine writing cave in a small undercroft that was historically used for storing coal. I will admit it was not my first choice – that was the sitting room with its pan-vistic views of my neighbour’s back garden and her laundry line, from which depend many interesting items with which a writer of erotica should be conversant. However, Mumsy wisely opined that the cosy confines of the combustibles storage facility would offer me much less distraction and more opportunity to focus on the call of Calliope.
Mumsy’s wisdom also means I can exert complete control over my writing environment, and that, dear RWW, is crucial to the success of your little writing project! Let just one little thing be out of place and your concentration will be distracted – and distraction is the bane of all writers and the cause of many an unwritten magnum opus.
So, choose your writing location with care, and the next time I drop by I will offer you my expert guidance on how to equip and decorate it to exacerbate the manifest prognostications of genius.
Until then, dear, dear RWW – bon ecrit!
From Hart of Mine by Annie Arcane
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She held up the crumpled document between us. My Last Will and Testament had been rolled into a fucking baton. “N-no.”
“No, you don’t understand? Or no…”
She reared back and smacked me with the damn thing before tossing it in my face. “I don’t want your money.”
Well, this was going splendidly. I smoothed the papers against my thigh with a steady palm. This was right. Admittedly, I did a ton of shit wrong but I knew this was right.
If I were to get hit by a car and die upon impact, she would have nothing to worry about. If I woke from a coma with no memory of who I was, she would always be taken care of. If I broke my goddamn neck and she couldn’t deal with the aftermath, our children would be set for life.
Fate could be a bastard and fuck with me all day long, but I would never be caught off-guard again. I would leave nothing to chance.
Liabilities were mine.
Assets were hers.
It was simple.
There were no ifs, ands, or buts.
“Doesn’t matter what you want, Mickey. It’s yours regardless.”
“Seriously?” She was staring at me as if I’d sprouted horns and was in desperate need of an exorcism. “Can you even hear yourself?”
I didn’t bother answering. Of course, I could hear myself. I was making perfect sense.
She gave a loud sigh, “I hate it when you act like this.”
“Like what?” The pussy-whipped husband who spoils his wife rotten? The pathetic fool who empties his bank account at her feet?
“Like this. Like a dumb idiot. Like a controlling jerk. Like…like…” Another sigh. Louder. Far more exasperated. “You. You’re acting like you.”
My fists clenched.
Great. Now I’m jealous of my hypothetical competition. Keeps on getting better and better.
“And who would you rather I act like?”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” she countered sweetly. “How about a reasonable human being?”
Oh, fuck, no.
“How the hell am I not reasonable? I do anything you ask me to. I do everything you ask me to. Even when it’s a blow to my ego, I swallow my damn pride and do whatever you want. For Christ’s sake, we just got married at a drive-thru because that’s what you wanted,” the reminder was bitter on my tongue. “You think that’s what I wanted? You think I spent months learning to stand on my own goddamn feet again because a fucking drive-thru wedding was my end goal?
“But you say jump, I say how high, right? So, by all means, let me know what else you need me to do, Mickey. Tell me how else to prove I trust you because I’ve literally given you every single thing in my possession and it still isn’t good enough. Because I’ve placed my entire life in your hands and…shit!”
It happened so fast.
The crazy girl tackled me.
I didn’t even see it coming. Which was fortunate since I probably would’ve broken something had I braced for impact. She tipped my chair over backward, knocking me right out of the damn seat. And landed hard on top of me, knocking the wind right out of my lungs.
As the room swirled, her panicked voice clawed through the fog, “Oh, my God, Cale. Are you okay?”
Crazy fucking girl.
I nodded, attempting to catch my breath while the fancy-ass ceiling tiles came into focus. Guess I must’ve cracked my skull on the floor too.
“I can’t believe that actually happened.”
A sixteen-pound titanium wheelchair with no brakes vs. a stunningly gorgeous human torpedo with no fear.
Physics 101.
What the fuck did she expect would happen?
“I was only trying to distract you.”
More like trying to kill me. Closing my arms around her, I managed a hoarse chuckle. It was more of a cough. I took a ragged breath and murmured, “You don’t have to try.”
She relaxed into my chest and whispered, “Sorry.”
“No harm done.” Minus the splitting headache.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“Yeah, except…”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
I curbed a smile, knowing full well this was going to cost me dearly. There was no doubt she’d make me pay for it later.
She scrambled to alleviate her weight, hovering inches above. “What?”
Worth any punishment, “I can’t feel my legs.”
God, that laugh.
Who cares about the consequences?
I’d sell my soul to hear that laugh.
Website: https://www.anniearcane.com
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… who just may be one of the sexiest heroes you’ll ever meet
Question 1: How much has your life experience changed you? And has it made you a better or a worse person?
That really depends on how you look at things.
I can’t say running a company, getting injured, and going through a divorce has made me a worse person per se, but it’s definitely made me cautious, even cynical to an extent. On the other hand, I never would’ve met Mickey otherwise, so you’ll never hear me complain. I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world. Not even regaining the use of my legs.
Plus, that crazy woman challenges me to be a better person. Whether or not I succeed? You’ll have to ask her.
Question 2: Name three things that people do or say that really annoy you.
1 When people try to push my chair, which happens more often than you’d think. There are no handles. No. Handles. So don’t try to f*cking handle it. Except for Mickey. She can do whatever the hell she wants whenever the hell she wants to.
2 Tardiness is my pet peeve and an absolute dealbreaker. Again, my wife is the only exception to this rule (and every other rule). If you work for me and you miss a deadline, you no longer work for me. End of discussion.
3 “You can’t.”
Question 3: Where would be your perfect holiday destination?
This sounds like a cop-out answer, but I don’t have an “ideal” destination. Anywhere you can think of, I’ve probably been for business, or pleasure, or both. For me, it’s all about the company.
That said, I much prefer snowy mountains over sunny beaches because wheels and sand are a match made in hell. Besides, cold weather equates to hot tubs and cuddling by the fire, which leads to other things if you catch my drift…
