Promo Friday

I've been trying to get into the habit of promoting myself on Fridays again. Especially since I have 3 upcoming publications to promote.

One of those stories is Seven Tricks. Based off The Nutcracker, it's written from the perspective of the poor, misunderstood mouse king. Only he's a mouse prince and very in love with his nutcracker.

Hear his side in this holiday tale, scampering your way on November 27, 2017. I don't have cover art and buy links yet, but I've got a blurb. :)

Some say a mouse king has seven heads. Hah, trust a human to get our legends wrong. A mouse prince must perform seven tricks before the twelve days of Christmas are up. It’s how he wins his crown, but I’ve got my whiskers set on something else. A stiff beauty with a magnificent jaw, waiting for me under the holiday shrub. I caught his scent in a dream, which I’ve been sniffing after ever since. Scamper with me through my adventures and misadventures, dodging traps, cats, and giants, while I win a steadfast nutcracker’s heart.  

Wednesday Words

On August 16, 2017, P.T. Wyant posted this picture at ptwyant.com for her Wednesday Words prompt.

This Tale of the Navel was my response. :)

The water cascaded down from all directions, splashing into the pool below. 

“All the color is gone.” Christopher stood beside him, watching the spray collide with the glittering surface. “Somehow the process of rushing through the forest drained it of all its various hues.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Danyel turned toward his companion. “Once water has been clensed, it’s safer to drink.”

“Is this nothing more than something to drink?” Christopher lifted a hand to gesture towards the falls. “Surely it has another purpose?”

The spray sparkled, reflecting off the angry gleam in the boy’s eye. 

“To bathe in?” Danyel asked the question with some hesitance. 

His own words didn’t taste right in his tongue. They spread across his mouth with a sour emptiness. 

The fury dimmed in Christopher’s gaze to something softer. 

“Is that all water is? A tool to be used?” The boy dipped his head, sending his short, coppery locks rippling across his brow. “Isn’t it purpose enough to hold our attention, making the world a little better with its beauty?”

Danyel opened his mouth, then shut it. 

“You’re right,” he said as much to himself to Christopher. “You’re absolutely right. Just because I require a purpose doesn’t mean the falls should.”

Christopher turned, startled out of his reverie. His lips moved, shaping words which Danyel wanted so badly to hear. 

If only he hadn’t stirred in his sleep at that moment, waking himself up. 

He stared up at the dark expanse of his ceiling, feeling his chest ache. 

“What purpose do I requre?” Danyel whispered his question to the ceiling, trying to keep his voice down. 

He didn’t want to wake Dayel. Dayel detested questions. 

For Danyel, questions were the only true answers. Each one was like a gemstone, sparkling in a path he needed to follow. Each one he asked led him to another stone. 

Farther along the path he needed to follow. Perhaps eventually he’d see it. 

“Christopher.” Danyel rolled the name across his tongue, tasting it. “Why do I feel like you’re willing me to answer my own question?”

“He’s got no right to expect you to answer.”

The words ripped through the silence, harsh and cold. 

Dayel didn’t move, but he fixed a gleaming eye upon his twin. It glittered, just as Christopher’s had in the dream. 

“Your precious Christopher can mind his purpose, leaving yours alone.” Dayel turned over with sudden violence, keeping his gaze locked on his brother. “Don’t let a vision drag you into his irresponsible quests.”

“He’s not dragging me into anything.” Danyel wasn’t sure why he defended Christopher. He didn’t entirely trust the mysterious boy, who’d come to live in his imagination, only to stalk him in his dreams. “He’s searching.”

Such a small, simple word. Danyel struggled to find the right ones to convey the depth of his concern, how he’d grown attached to this character from a book who was becoming real. 

“He’s lost.” Once again, Danyel found himself using the simplest terms to convey Christopher’s peril. “He needs to be found.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re the one who has to find him.” Anger vibrated through the bed, transferred from Dayel to Danyel across the blanket. 

Danyel tasted something cold and fearful on the back of his tongue. Almost icy. 

Fear. He wasn’t sure it was his own or Dayel’s. 

He couldn’t let fear stop him, though. Fear would only freeze him in place, making him unable to move, think, or do anything. 

“I don’t like turning my back on someone in trouble.” Danyel fumbled for the right words to express what was so simple and natural.

To him. Not to Dayel. 

Even so, Danyel tried to explain. 

“Even if he’s just a dream, it bothers me to see Christopher lost,” he admitted, clutching his blankets to his chest. “I want to help him.”

“Give in to this desire and you’ll always be helping creatures like him.” A bitter, bleak note entered Dayel’s cold tone. “Eventually, they’ll help themselves to you.”

Danyel shivered in the darkness at his brother’s words. 

He didn’t doubt they were true.

“Does it have to be like that?” He heard a plaintive note of desperation enter his own voice. “Someone helps and someone helps themself?”

“There isn’t any alternative.” Dayel yanked at the blanket, pulling some of it from his brother. “It’s just how things are.”

“What if there was another way?” Danyel stared at the darkness above. “What if I found it?”

“Don’t go wishing for impossible things.” Dayel shivered beside him. “You tear a hole in reality.”

Danyel didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. 

Dayel could probably guess what his next questions were. 

Would tearing a hole in reality be a bad thing? Especially if it was a reality where one person gave and another took from him?

Danyel doubted his twin could come up with an answer. 

It wasn’t going to be that easy.  

Paula's Prompts

Back on August 9, 2017, P.T. Wyant posted a prompt for her Wednesday Words at ptwyant.com. It involved a hedge, a jar, and a ribbon.

At the same time, Dale Lowry shared a submission call for a wizard academy.

Wrapped up in preparations for my vacation, plus trying to get everything done, I never finished the submission, alas. I did come up with a tentative fragment of a story, thanks to Paula and Dale. Here it is...

The picture is one of the churches I visited in Trastevere, Rome during the beginning of September. This one I took myself. :)

“I’m going to find you!” Such a sweet, childish voice. I’d almost believe it belonged to an actual child, if I didn’t know better. “You can’t hide from me, Hyacinth!”

We’d see about that.

I untied the ribbon from my neck, feeling the energy release as the silky material unknotted. It pulsed across the land, humming to every magical creature trapped in a jar, a cage, or a prison at the Accademia de Valentine. 

How often had I tried to pull free the strands resting against my bare flesh, only to find my fingers fumbling, unable to work. 

On school grounds, everything bowed to the will of the maestro.

“Don’t ever try to untie it.” Tenderly, he’d fastened it around my neck himself. A sign of great favor among students. “This marks you as one of my own.”

He played with one end, raising it to his lips, before tucking it under my shirt. 

“I doubt you’ll want to.” His green eyes glinted with dark, creeping things which crawled in the hidden parts of the forest, where no one dared to stretch his hand. “If your heart should waver, the others here will sense it.” 

He pressed his finger against my skin, stroking it, digging his nail into my neck. 

Blood welled up under his digit. He withdrew his hand, raising it to his lips to taste the red droplet. 

“I’d rather not share you with anyone else.” Silent laughter gleamed in his eyes, gliding and keeping pace with everything else captured in his gaze. 

No one had dared to try. Not on school grounds. 

I dropped the ribbon into one pocket. 

Something growled and snuffled in the hedge. 

I’d become visible. All the creatures who prowled the edges of the school had caught my scent. 

Willing my hands not to shake, I lifted the jar from my pocket. 

Sigils surrounded the rim. They flared up for one moment, before dying. 

“Containment seals simply don’t last outside the accademia.” He’d lifted it to observe the pixie, fluttering around inside. “She reminds me a little of you, Hyacinthe.”

I stared at the tiny creature, beating her wings and tiny fists against the glass walls of her prison. 

Yes, her pinched face looked a bit like mine. What seemed the most alike was our desperation. 

Only she’d had a stronger will than I had. She’d kicked against the jar, making it rattle again and again. Never giving up. 

“Why not let her go?” The misery crumpling her tiny mouth, transmitted from her fluttering wings was unbearable. “If she desires her freedom this much, why not simply give it to her? You have lots of captive magical beasts.”

“Ah, but I can’t allow one to wander free at the Accademia.” The maestro let his mouth slacken with almost innocent shock. 

He appeared so young, younger than any of the students. Drinking in their experiences, their enthusiasm, imparting a little wisdom here, a little knowledge there, he drained everyone’s youth, leaving them haggard and lined, while his skin remained smooth, his eyes bright with childish cruelty. 

Not that he didn’t let his pupils depart, spreading his wisdom through the world. They withered everyone a little with the knowledge they spread, regaining a bit of their own spark in the process. 

Such is how things are at the Accademia. 

“Letting her go for set a bad example for all the students.” He allowed his green eyes to flicker over me, playful and malicious as a cat’s. “Especially you.”

“Forgive me,” I whispered to the spirit of the deceased pixie. I could breathe it in, clinging to the glass. Just one of the things I’d learned to taste at the Accademia. “One of us has to escape here.”

I unscrewed the jar, bracing myself for the backlash from the wards. 

Nothing. Perhaps some of the litte creature’s rebellious will lingered along with her spirit, protecting me. 

Why she’d decided to help a runaway student of the Accademia who’d caught her, I didn’t know. Perhaps she simply agreed with me.

One of us had to escape. 

Me Me Monday

It's Me Me Monday for Queer Sci Fi on Facebook.

This poor little Cauldron may be blocked, but it would like to play, too. Here it is, offering the new blurb for Fairest, my f/f fantasy fairytale reborn!

All of my life, I’ve been haunted by her dark eyes. At birth, she cursed me to prick my finger on the spindle and sleep for a century. She appears in my dreams, my reflections, shaping my desires. Who is she? My guardian has only revealed a few enigmatic words as to her identity, the fairest of them all. Follow me into the lonely Forest of Tears where the dwarves dwell, walking where she once walked. Gaze into the depths of the magic mirror which reveals her secrets. For I refuse to fear her, even if I should. 

Fairest returns on November 20, 2017 in Nine Star Press's Once Upon a Rainbow anthology. 

Dayel's Discomfort, Part 8

It's QueerBlogWed! Disoriented, jet lagged from my journeys, I return to from being unplugged to blink at my Forbidden Cauldron, see where we last left off.

I set up the monster post to continue to cranking of Dayel's Discomfort in my absence. This should be the final part. :)

“No need to be modest!” Juno called after them. “I’m sure the ring would suit your hand very well, Danyel, dear!” Once more, she was all eager friendliness. “Be sure to come back if you change your minds!”

“Why did you do that?” Danyel demanded, but he let Dayel drag him through the crowds. “Something about that ring spoke me, almost sang in the back on my mind.” He glanced down at their interlocking fingers. “I’m almost sure I’ve seen it before.” His flesh trembled within Dayel’s grip. “It’s almost like it wanted me to want it.”

“Exercise your right of refusal to hungry…anythings…every once in a while!” Dayel growled. “A symbol of ritual bondage is not to be accepted lightly!”

Danyel’s breath caught in his throat.

“Ritual bondage,” he murmured to himself as much as his twin. “I think I know where I saw that ring.” He swallowed. “Christopher was wearing it.”

“All the more reason for you not to.” Dayel picked up speed, putting as much distance between Danyel and Juno’s booth as possible. “Don’t pick up any more rocks from the Shadow Forest. It only leads to trouble.”

“Dayel.”

Danyel stopped, planting his feet firmly in the ground. 

It forced Dayel to stop, too. If he didn’t, he’d be forced to let go of Danyel. 

He’d never do that. Never. 

Hands still entwined, he turned to face his twin. 

Their eyes met. 

Danyel’s, unlike Dayel’s, had no unearthly silver light, even if they were the same violet blue as his twin’s. 

The only thing they gleamed with was conviction. 

Not that that was something to be underestimated. 

“Picking up rocks is what I do.” Danyel swallowed, but he didn’t look away from his brother. “I don’t want to stop.”

It was Dayel who swallowed, whose gaze dropped to his feet. 

What could he say to that?

Dayel's Discomfort, Part 7

I'm not currently here, but Danyel and Dayel continue their Monster Post, inspired by P.T. Wyant's August 2nd festival prompt at ptwyant.com.

“A marriage feast is different.” Danyel spoke to himself as much as to Juno and Map. Once more, he fixed his eyes upon the ring. “It lasts for only one night.”

“The best night of a boy’s life!” Juno returned her attention to Danyel, all smiles once more. “He’s pampered and treated like a godling, worshipped and admired by all around him, given anything his heart could desire.”

“Except more time.” Mel allowed a corner of her mouth to quirk upwards in an ironic smile. “A bride drains her chosen bridegroom of his strength and incipient manhood, leaving only a beautiful shell behind to stand in her garden.”

“Bridegrooms are never taken unwillingly.” Juno separated her hands. “Every boy dreams being a bridegroom. They gossip about their potential brides all the time, while growing up.” She wagged a finger at her daughter. “It’s a ritual unique to the arachnocratic lands, deserving of respect.”

Danyel reached a hand towards the sparkling stone. 

No. Bad things happened with Danyel touched things. 

Dayel reached out and swatted his brother’s hand away before he could lay a finger on the ring. 

Danyel turned towards him, a protest on his lips. 

Dayel seized his hand firmly in his own. He laid a finger from his free hand upon his brother’s mouth, silencing him. 

“Jewelry ill becomes Danyel.” He turned his head to lock his gaze with Juno’s. 

Yes, he could see some of the wrinkles on her face opening to reveal tiny eyes. Each orb stared at him. 

Dayel stared back, willing whatever scary, glittering thing that lived within his own eyeballs to meet that inhuman gaze. 

“That particular ring doesn’t belong on my brother’s hand.” He could feel the brightness in irises flare with his own fear. 

Juno closed her additional eyes, dazzled by whatever she saw in Dayel’s. 

He pulled his twin away from the booth and started walking, keeping a firm grip on his twin’s hand. 

He could sense Mel’s silent approval, beating at his back. If he turned, Dayel guessed she’d be trying not to grin and failing. 

To be continued on Wednesday, September 20, 2017....

Dayel's Discomfort, Part 6

I'm currently not here, but Danyel and Dayel are continuing the monster post, inspired by P.T. Wyant's festival prompt at ptwyant.com.

“Marriage is a commitment to unite two houses, those houses’s combined family lines.” Juno clasped her hands together. “Marriage unites a man and a woman’s fortunes and hearts, making them as one.” She raised her hands to her lips. “Husband and wife vow to pass these things down to their children, the ones they raise together.” 

She unknotted her hands, which trembled. 

“That is what marriage is or what it should be.” She waved in dismissive scorn at her daughter, rings flashing. “Anything else is a pale imitation of that!”

Juno cast a withering glance in the direction of Leiwell’s booth. 

No, not Leiwell. Map. 

Map had turned away from the fire. A smile tugged at her wrinkled face as she greeted the booth’s visitor. 

It was Ashleigh. Leiwell, Danyel, and Dayel’s other mother, who’d stopped by in making her rounds of the festival. She’d been one of the villagers who organized it. 

A cap with a feather in it perched on her golden head at a jaunty angle, Ashleigh leaned against the booth, smiling at Map. The two women looked into each other’s eyes. 

Juno’s lower lip trembled at bit. She looked away, down at the jewelry in front of her. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d given the boys’s mothers such angry looks. For the first time, Dayel understood why. 

Map lived with Ashleigh, the boys’s other mother. She’d rasied Leiwell, Dayel, and Danyel by herself without the help of this marriage. 

In many ways, Map and Ashleigh practiced marriage exactly as Juno described. They shared everything, although they were hardly one. 

They were two women, not a man and a woman, though. 

Ridiculous. Juno had no right to judge. She was hardly living her own ideal. She and Jupitre failed to live as one as spectacularly as Ashleigh and Juno did. 

There was only one way to become one that Dayel knew of. Get devoured by a shadow. 

Perhaps the arachnocratic brides were closer to being one with their bridegrooms than a husband and wife ever could be. 

Dayel tried not to shudder. He really didn’t want to hear anything more about marriage feasts. 

Alas, there was no stopping Danyel, once his curiousity was roused. 

To be continued on Wednesday, September 6, 2017...