Two Women and Some Books
The life of an elderly delinquent in limericks – with free optional snark…
I am old and I really don’t care
If I’m wrinkled and grey in the hair
I don’t care if you slight me
But don’t try to fight me
I’ll still whop your ass if you dare
…. or ‘How To Speak Typo’ by Jane Jago
agnoy (noun) – pain caused to head by the repeated losing of one’s shit
becaise (noun) – handbag in which to carry insects
bretsa (adjective) – of politicians, unintelligent and noisy, often venial and basically dishonest
differnet – (noun) a branch of the Internet wholly concerned with arcane magics
flase (adjective) – of adolescent boys having a great deal of testosterone and no outlet except exploding zits
geak (noun) – the nose of a computer savvy teenager
hopw (noun) – native American tribe with Welsh connections
menatlly (adverb) – of looking at women as if they are food
mucyh (adjective) – of cookery getting the whole kitchen covered with a fine film of flour
secude (verb) – to exude a weird kind of sexuality with a particular emphasis on slippers and cardigans
srop (noun) – very heavy cough medicine with much sugar
tantarula (noun) – dance performed by woman who sees a spider in her bathroom
unsuirable (adjective) – beyond belief, as in ‘I’ve never had any surgeries‘
werble (verb) – to sing off key with a finger in one ear, most often heard on open mike nights at folk clubs
Disclaimer: all these words are genuine typos defined by Jane Jago. The source of each is withheld to protect the guilty.
The bright lights promise welcome warmth. The stomach remembers satisfying food while other parts recall the innkeeper’s buxom daughter.
Two cloaked men slide into the smoky taproom. Unasked, the girl brings them ale while her father places wooden bowls of aromatic dumpling-rich stew on their table.
It takes a while, but when their stomachs are sated they beckon the plump girl. She comes, seeming willing enough, and perches on the big man’s iron thighs.
His fatuous smile falters as his head drops on the table.
“In your dreams,” the girl laughs and returns to her station behind the bar.
From Haruspex:A Walking Shadow a Fortune’s Fools book by E.M. Swift-Hook.
The big man, with his little dog trotting at his heels, walked out of the Tavern quietly and without waking anyone. Which was probably just as well, Archanbor decided, as Ritter wasn’t in a good mood. He didn’t like being locked up. Outside the streets of Keran were mostly deserted and Archanbor moved with silent speed avoiding those few who were up and around.
“No point startling folks is there Ritter?” Archanbor observed as he opened up the low shed beside the workshops attached to the space port. The small dog seemed to agree and watched as his master rolled the heavy felt cloth back over the body of a PTV.
“Well, if he’d not locked us up I’d have offered him a fair hire price – but he doesn’t bloody deserve it now – that was so not a nice thing to do.”
“What isn’t nice, Drum?”
Archanbor spun on his heel and would have fired if Ritter hadn’t barked a sharp warning and run over to sniff at the figure standing in the door, his tail wagging happily.
“Pan? You look as beautiful as ever,” Archanbor opened his arms to offer her a hug. She didn’t move from the doorway, just stood there arms crossed all disapproving.
“You borrowing Gernie’s PTV then Drum?”
Archanbor lowered his arms sheepishly and tucked the energy snub away out of sight. He nodded.
“Oh aye. I was planning on it. Me and Ritts we need to get to Tabruth and it’s a bloody parlous long walk and swim if not.”
Pan nodded agreement.
“It would be. Not at all safe,” she agreed. “So what business do you and Ritter have in Tabruth? I hear that’s where the Overlord has his capital – you got trade with him, Drum?”
Archanbor rubbed his nose a few times and glanced down at Ritter for inspiration.
“Of a sort,” he said eventually.
Pan looked almost stern.
“You mean – your old trade? The one you promised Ritter you’d give up?”
That was so not fair. Even Ritter growled.
“What’s it bloody matter to you?” Archanbor demanded.
“To me? Not much. But to you it could matter. I know for a fact the Overlord has visitors right now and they are a bit out of your league for nowadays, Drum. I just wouldn’t want to see – see Ritter get hurt.”
Which showed what little she knew.
“If I don’t go Ritter will get hurt. And it’s not like I’m going to drop anyone. Just borrow – like I’m borrowing Tavi’s PTV. It’ll all be fine in the end.”
Pan was shaking her head.
“You go borrowing people you could wind up breaking them, Drum. You don’t want that. We’re all getting too old for it. Why don’t you come have a cup of tea with me before you go, at the least? I got a biscuit for Ritter too.”
He looked at the little dog who was standing head on one side.
“He’s not been eating biscuits recently. I think he’s off them,” Archanbor shot a worried look at Pan. “You think he might be not so well?”
She looked anywhere but at the dog, her face considering.
“He might be. If he is, taking him off out to Tabruth won’t help him get any better. Why not come have that tea and let him curl up by my fire for a few, Drum? Maybe that’ll help him some.”
Ritter barked and showed what he thought of that idea. Archanbor laughed. He wouldn’t be sorry to have some tea, it might help settle out his hangover.
“Alright, lass – and thank you.”
The life of an elderly delinquent in limericks – with free optional snark…
You are old and you ought to shed tears
As you look back through your many years
But you say that nostalgia
Just gives you neuralgia
Which you combat with numberless beers
‘Worldview’ is being prepared for publication sometime in the next year.
Worldview isn’t just an art book. It’s a depiction of the worldviews and belief-systems of the future, or at least what I envision them to be in my fictional world. Worldview is intended to be an encyclopedia of a twisted and corrupt futuristic Earth, where nations have been openly replaced by corporations, leaving little freedom to the populations who serve under them. The book will be packed with 200 pages of images and descriptions. Once Worldview is published, I intend to create a series of books to follow, all based on the worldview environment. These books will be in the same picture/text format, but will be more character-based, and will incorporate stories, plots, and adventures.
I’m not entirely sure where my inspiration for the images comes from, as I seriously avoid ‘googling’ other imagery in case I regurgitate it. I watch all genres of film, listen to a lot of soundtrack music, and I look at a lot of structures in the city where I live. I also speak with lots of new people every day, mostly strangers, who tell me about their lives and struggles. Maybe all this adds up to what I produce..? I try hard to avoid generic stuff, as there’s way too much of it about, and it’s all been perfected many times over by numerous other artists.
I paint everything from scratch in Photoshop, using a Wacom tablet and a 27″ iMac. I don’t know how to use any 3D software, and I’m too lazy to learn. I don’t plan anything, or sketch initial ideas as such, I just have a rough idea in my mind and start blocking in shapes to see where it all goes. For those who are familiar with Photoshop, I make heavy use of the lasso tools to create hard edges. Lately, I seem to have become keen on using lots of saturated colours.
James in his own words:
I was born on the Isle of Wight, and started to move around the UK from age 22, playing electric guitar, and working in Radio. Currently I live in Bristol, where I’ve lived for the last 14 years. I’m a self-taught artist, who exploited YouTube and ‘how to draw’ books, beginning about 10 years ago. I’ve been a professional concept artist for about 9 of those years, as I was lucky to get sporadic paid work early in my learning phase. I seriously miss the coast, and I’m convinced I’ll end up moving to Cornwall in the near future, where I’ll continue my art books and working for clients.
You can find James and admire his work on Facebook, Instagram, Deviantart and Artstation.
‘32 was bad. Boy’s family went to California. Then Ma got the fever and died, and Pa did what he always done in times of trouble. He run away.
I stayed in the cabin to lick my wounds. After I shot me a couple bears, and a neighbour of evil intent, I got left pretty much alone.
So there it was. Thanksgiving. Me alone. I never expected no knock on the door and I opened her just a crack. My boy stood there in his cracked boots and foolish grin.
“It’s a long way to walk from Californy,” he said…
Dying to be Roman by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook is a whodunit set in a modern day Britain where the Roman Empire still rules. If you missed previous episodes you can start reading from the beginning.
Dai looked down at Julia.
“You think they are in the wind, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes. I really, really do. And maybe we’ll never catch up with them.”
“Do you think it is just those three?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t see how it can be. I just wish I could get a handle on what they are up to. Is it betting? Or what?”
Decimus looked at them and snapped his teeth together.
“I think you two are missing something here. Four women from patrician families. Three with unsatisfactory husbands, one with an unsatisfactory job.”
Dai scratched his head.
“Domina Lydia, Octavia Tullia Scaevia, Annia Bellona Flavia, and…”
“Marcella Tullia Junius,” Julia supplied.
“Yes, her. I don’t know about her, but I don’t see the other three masterminding any sort of a plot.” He looked embarrassed.
Decimus actually gave a bark of laughter.
“The boy has a point, Julia. Lydia is as stupid as she is arrogant. Octavia isn’t as pathetic as she chooses to appear but she’s no genius. And the Flavian woman was almost criminally incompetent. That just leaves Marcella Junius. I don’t really know her, but she has the reputation of being both intelligent and as cold as ice. So maybe. Just maybe.”
Julia kicked his desk with one small booted foot.
“Just those four? I wonder. Whatever. If they have poofed we are in trouble. We know they are part of something;, what we have to do now is prove it, and that could be the sticking point.” She fulminated a bit more. “Do you know what really strokes my fur backwards? The Britons. Three athletes in their prime and one half-stupid beastmaster, all killed for no better reason than to hide whatever that lot were part of.”
Dai and the stolid Boudicca exchanged a glance of surprised appreciation. Julia caught that look and stamped her foot in sheer frustration.
“And you two are pissing me off as well. Just because I’m Roman I’m not capable of caring about the lives of Britons? Well I do care. I really bloody care. I joined up to protect everybody, be they Citizens or not. And you can believe me or disbelieve me. About that, I’m beyond caring.”
Dai had the grace to look ashamed, and Boudicca smiled albeit grimly.
“Fair enough, domina. I should have known that a friend of the Tribune’s would be made of good stuff.” Then she subsided, as if aware that she had probably said far too much for an ex-slave.
“Sit down, woman,” Decimus growled. “I’ll get us something to drink while we wait.”
Another bad- tempered clang on his bell brought a young guard running.
“Don’t look scared, lad. I won’t eat you. Just get that idle spado of a house steward to rustle up a drink and a snack for four.”
The guard saluted smartly and went about his business.
In a remarkably short space of time there was a scratch on the door and a procession of servitors brought in a flagon of mead and one of small beer, a tray of the finest glasses from Venezia, and a selection of snacks ranging from olives and salty Hellenic cheese to tiny fried dough balls filled with apple and cream.
Eating and drinking eased a lot of the tension. So much so that Julia was emboldened to put a hand on Dai’s forearm.
“Sorry Dai. I was well out of order there.”
He actually patted her hand.
“No. Truly, you weren’t. I need reminding sometimes that Romans are human.”
For the first time since they met, Julia sensed a genuine thaw in Dai’s attitude to her. She was grateful. By telling herself that such a shift would help their working relationship no end, she could consciously choose to ignore the fact that the tall Celt with his snapping blue eyes was stirring feelings she had no wish to think about.
Before such impure thoughts could sour her improving mood, there was a respectful tap in the door.
“Come.”
Hearts don’t break,
Though they may creak,
May bleed and ache,
Feel cracked and and bleak.
The loss of hope
Won’t stop your breath,
Though you may mope
And wish for death.
Hearts sustain
Though love is fleeting.
Through the pain
They keep on beating
Dying to Find Proof is the tenth Dai and Julia Mystery from Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook.
Dai waited until the two women had taken the last seats and Edbert moved to lean against the wall behind Julia. Then he lifted a hand to quiet the low murmurs of conversation and spoke into the ensuing silence.
“My friends, family, fellow Citizens and fellow Britons, we are gathered here today to plot the downfall of Magistratus Sextus Catus Bestia.”
A collective tension seemed to seep through the room. It was as if by naming the evil they had come to fight he had in some way upped the ante. Dai paused, both to allow his words to settle and to allow the chance for anyone to protest or respond. But there was a solid, supportive silence and those faces which had looked relaxed a few moments before seemed to grow more cold and stern. No one here was taking this lightly. They all had too much at stake.
“I thank you all for coming here today and taking time from the celebration to meet. I know I don’t need to do any introductions, there may be a couple of faces unfamiliar to you but we don’t have much time and I doubt we will be able to meet like this again – all in one place. We also can’t use regular channels.” He tapped his new wristphone. “Given the authority he wields, Bestia can have any or all of us monitored. SI Gaius has an idea to set up secure lines of communication and will tell us about those later. For now, it’s enough to know that we will all be able to keep in touch and to be aware that we mustn’t communicate anything outside this room any other way.”
He stopped talking and looked around at the sixteen other people in the room, for a moment, remembering too vividly the place challenging Bestia’s power had left him. An underground prison cell with its bleak despair and hopeless doom. He could not allow anyone else here to wind up in that place.
“But first I need to be sure everyone understands the stakes here. This is not a game where if we lose we get a screen turning black and a ‘play again’ button. If we mess this up it’s game over for good, for all of us, because don’t doubt for a moment we’d be made to betray each other.”
Enya looked as if she was about to deny that, but Dai could see the moment she noticed even the hard faces of Decimus and Gallus, both veterans of Praetorian battlefields, were not disagreeing with him.
“We know this,” Aoife said, sounding impatient. “So let’s get to what we don’t know.”
Dai nodded to acknowledge both her words and her right to say them.
“I just wanted to give everyone the chance to walk away from this and not get involved any deeper,” he explained, which provoked a throaty laugh from Lavinia
“I don’t think we could really be in any less deep than having agreed to be here in the first place. I can tell you don’t read much crime fiction. Remind me to gift you my back catalogue.”
Dai managed a weak smile.
“Um. Thank you.” He could see the meeting beginning to slip away from him already. “So, if no one wants to leave…?”
No one moved. Dai had not really expected anyone would, but he still experienced a relaxing of muscles he hadn’t realised he’d been holding tense.
“In brief,” he went on, feeling more confident now, “where as we know Bestia is the man who has been behind the headless murders last autumn, the killing of street women this spring and the attempt to have me condemned for treason last month, we have no hard evidence to back up our knowledge. What we now need to do is find solid proof that he did these things. And much as I would like to tie him to all three crimes as all those affected are equally deserving of justice, we have to keep in mind that we only need incontrovertible proof that he was responsible for one in order to have him arrested and condemned and thus stop him doing more and probably worse.”
It was not a thought he liked and he could see a few faces become a shade grimmer as people reflected on how they would feel if their own need for justice wasn’t met. Surprisingly, it was someone he thought would be the most urgent in their need for personal retribution who spoke up.
“What matters most is stopping this man,” Agrippina Julius said, her voice firm. “If that means SI Calvus or others have to take their justice at second hand then so be it.”
There were nods of assent from around the room, even if some such as Brangwen Broanan were more reluctant than others and Dai felt another lurch of relief. This was, as yet, an untried alliance and he knew it was down to him to somehow weave it together into a strong rope with which to hang Bestia.
Working Title Blogspot 