sunny day, spooky story

Days full of sunshine and blooming flowers and newly mown grass are perfect for getting to work on a ghost story, right? Gothic, creepy, horror-filled narratives are absolutely best (and most safely) accomplished on warm, bright, lovely spring days when you can see dandelion fluff floating by on the wind. That way, no matter what dark, frightening things you conjure up to put on a page, the moment you look up again, you are popped back into the happy world where you see fat bumblebees flitting from violet to violet. *nods*

Release Day!! Cotton Candy Deceit

It is release day for my story "Cotton Candy Deceit", published by Rooster & Pig Publishing, and available here: http://www.roosterandpigpublishing.com/

Here's the encapsulating blurb:

Jack Abbott has forbidden his son, Zeke, to attend the local circus. When Zeke goes against his wishes, Jack must rescue him from the clutches of a world he once escaped, but only at the cost of his lover, Jonas. Returning to the circus brings back nightmares, but Jack learns that Jonas is still alive. Now an opportunity arises for Jack to rescue Jonas as well as Zeke, and to stop the dark dealer at the circus… forever.

Here's the incredible cover:

I love this cover. The feel of it hits the mark of the story pitch-perfectly. Also, carousels are awesome.


This story has a little bit of everything, and is one of the stories that I think really captures my style of writing well. It feels almost sepia-toned in some respects, with a timeless air for setting, in that hazy period of early summer when anything is possible. It has a creepy feel to it, with a deep romance to balance the elements of horror. I am overwhelming proud of how this story turned out. It was good, and the editing process at R&P made it great. Also, it has a donkey. And everyone knows that donkeys make for the best stories ever!

Free Friday Fiction: Calliope Fair, and Thief

Roped off, and gleaming in brassy tones, the strange instrument on the deck of the steamboat caught Jorge's attention. He wandered over and stood at the back of the crowd. Taller than average, it was easy to see over the people's heads and Jorge studied the object with interest. It was musical, and something like a piano, perhaps even more like a church organ, but definitely something different.

"What is it?" he asked the girl standing next to him in the crowd.

His deep voice caught her attention, as well as a few others, and that of the guide on the other side of the rope. They all turned their gaze to him. Jorge was used to it, even a little flattered by it. Growing tall and muscled hadn't been the only gift bestowed by puberty. His lighter, childlike voice had deepened and dropped, and now when he spoke, he sounded like a grown man, and far older than he sometimes felt.

"A calliope, good sir," answered the guide, deftly catching the crowd's attention again. His name tag simply read "Walter". "My pride and joy. It runs on steam. And was used for decades to announce to the towns that a steamboat was coming along. Demonstrations on the half hour."

Being just past the hour, the crowd dispersed, but Walter signaled to Jorge to stay. "You look like a man with keen interest. Would you like to play her?"

Jorge's fingers fairly itched to touch the keys. "Very much," he said, thinking back to Great Aunt Edna's organ lessons. He knew the keys, even if he couldn't exactly recall how to play. He searched briefly for his boyfriend, eager to include him in the unexpected treat, but Kai was in line at the bar. This day playing tourist had been his idea originally, and he was determined to enjoy it to the maximum. "Just press the keys?" Jorge asked.

"Yes, yes, of course." Walter lightly ran his fingers down the octaves, to a white key far on the left. "She's in a sorry state. Not all of her is working." He depressed the key and no sound came out. "I'm fixing her, note by note, though."

Walter played a jaunty tune on the middle section of keys and Jorge recognized the sound. Tight and off-key in the high register, the sound sang of circuses and amusement parks, whispering fun in his ear while a shiver ran down his spine.

"What do you think?" Walter asked.

"It's a strange instrument," Jorge said.

"That it is." He paused, and then Walter said, "You know, this one right here would be just about the pitch of your speaking voice. Well, perhaps a half tone lower." He depressed the soundless key again, thumping it up and down, then holding it down.

"Really?" Jorge asked as he put out a finger to touch the music-empty key. He still wanted to play and was waiting for a signal to go ahead.

"As if you needed to lower your voice." Walter laughed. "Such an unusually deep voice you're blessed with!"

"I can go lower," Jorge said, dropping his voice even further. "I—" He noticed Walter's smile stretched toothily-wide as he did so and then Kai bumped into him and spilled his drink all over the floor and onto Walter's shoes.

Walter shouted, "Hey, now!" He picked up his feet and shook the liquid off.

"Sorry!" Kai said, his voice clipped, pitched tight, and not a damn bit sorry. "Let's go, lover," he said to Jorge. "There's more of this boat to see." He waggled his fingers at Walter, who looked thunderous.

Jorge let himself be led away.

"That man was not right. He looked like a wolf that wanted to eat you all up!" Kai marched them far away from the calliope.

"I guess," Jorge said. He hadn't noticed, the shining brass had taken all his attention, and his breath away.

Kai kept them busy for at least another hour, ducking into rooms, canvassing corridors, and generally sticking their noses into every cranny on the steamboat open for tourist inspection. Jorge was tired and ready to find an air conditioned restaurant for a well deserved meal as they finally exited the boat.

Waiting in line to leave, he could hear the conversation behind them.

"Laryngitis? Really, Frank? You haven't been quiet a day in your life," said a woman.

Frank just mumbled a reply, the tone of his voice a deep, rolling bassoon-sound, without volume or distinction.

"Well, you shouldn't have stood out in the sun watching that ridiculous calliope demonstration. And singing along! You should know better!" The one-sided conversation drifted away and the two of them walked off in a different direction.

Jorge paused and turned to look back at the steamboat. As if on cue, the calliope started playing, and Jorge was sure it wasn't his imagination, but it seemed to have a few more lower notes than before.

counting words is a funny business

So, I had a goal to write something under 300 words and I thought, perhaps it might be better to try writing by hand rather than typing, and see if the different medium will lend itself to a stricter word count.

I scribbled down some narrative, treating myself to the use of a very stylish pen, though with very ordinary paper, and thought, oh, this is way over!

I transcript the jottings into the computer and the word count comes out to be 425.

I can go two ways with this ficlet. It would be better told if I filled in the missing places and sanded the wrong edges. But I could also strip it bare. Take it down to the scaffolding. There would be a stark, strong story in telling it with only the barest of necessities. Both ways would provide a good tale, just in two different ways.

Decisions, decisions....

pretty pink tulips

I love all the colors that tulips come in. The pinks are very lovely, and the variegated ones are quite attractive.

wedding season in June

I just realized that wedding season is almost upon us. It starts in May, but hits stride in June. And there are really only so many weekends in the month of June, so competition will be fierce.

Soon, all thoughts will turn to wedding etiquette, and manners, and calligraphy on invitations. I have to admit I sometimes get swept up in all the exuberant romance (the flowers! the beautiful vows! the exchange of rings! the gorgeous dresses!), and sometimes mired in all the details (introductions, apparently, have an order they should be performed in, according to the social status of the two individuals with respect to each other, and the one doing the introductions).

I spent a lot of time reading up on wedding rituals and etiquette, and terminology, when I was working on How Sweetly the Whippoorwill Sings. It made me feel a bit like a secret wedding planner! (Props out to wedding planners -- the stress must be intense!)

So far, though, things are slowing down. My friends are mostly already settled in, and the rush of parties has trickled in recent years. In some ways, I'm glad to avoid those duties, but I do miss the enjoyment of the food and dancing. June is a lovely month in which to make, and witness, promises.

lilacs blooming

Lilacs provide some of the sweetest smells of spring and early summer. Their blooms shine for a few weeks, and then fade, and we must wait again another whole year. We teeter on the cusp of lilac season.