Monthly Archives: May 2017

Musical Musings

MusicalMusings

This month’s Musical Musings topics are: parents, siblings, and childhood.

For me, parents and childhood are kinda the same. I don’t think their taste in music changed from what they listened to when I was young. You know, before I picked my own music. But here’s some of their favourites…

 

A few of my first musical decisions, lol…

And my brother…we honestly shared and still share a lot of the same interests. I’m way more country now, but he’ll give a few of my faves a listen. So, he listened to the same as mine above, plus a few more…and here’s some of his new faves.

That’s it for me. Now check out the other ladies…

Bronwyn Green  |  Deelylah Mullin  |  Gwendolyn Cease  |  Paige Prince

Song Flash Fiction ~ All American Rejects

I’m familiar with a few of their songs, but hadn’t heard this one before. Here’s the video for those of you who’d like to give it a listen, and the resulting story…I’m sure I’ll think of something. Prays to the muse gods for a save… (I’d like to use a lifeline. Call a friend. Poll the audience.)

Oh and I don’t really get the whole them in the ocean in this video but…maybe that’s just me.

“Dave? Buddy, you okay?”

Dave Attison stared out the window, watching the gathering of people a few hundred yards off.  They sat in rows, heads bent in conversation as the storm raged around them. A large tent fluttered in the strong breeze, the hollow sound of the rain against the canvass echoing across the open space. He shifted his gaze to the man standing at the end of a red carpet—white square glowing like a beacon against his collar. He wasn’t talking to anyone, his head held high, a book clenched in his hands.

Dave swallowed against the bile cresting his throat. They’d been sitting in the damn truck for twenty minutes, but Dave hadn’t been able to wrap his fingers around the handle—step out into the rain. His stomach clenched at the thought, threatening to spill his recent coffee across the dashboard, not that he’d care. Hell, he hadn’t cared about anything—anyone—in months.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he forced himself to turn—meet Barry’s gaze. The man looked as uncomfortable as Dave felt, his buddy’s eyes darting between the crowd and him. Creases furrowed Barry’s brow as the man released a shuddering breath, giving Dave what he assumed was supposed to be an encouraging smile.

“Ceremony’s about to start.” Barry swallowed with apparent effort. “Don’t you think we should join in? Might be rude to walk over there halfway through. You know how Father Sean is about tardiness.”

Dave snorted. The man he’d planned on spending the rest of his life with—his fucking soulmate—was ready to pledge his love to someone else, and Barry was worried if Father Sean would flip his shit if Dave showed up late.

He glanced away. “I just need another minute.”

Barry sighed, the sound sparking another clench of Dave’s gut. God, how he’d come to loathe that sound—the pity that seemed to ooze out of it. The way it curled around him, reminding him about all the ways he’d failed. How he hadn’t been enough.

Barry gave his shoulder a squeeze. “We’ve been here for a while. I’m not sure another minute is going to make this any easier.”

Dave scoffed, meeting his friend’s sympathetic gaze. “Easier? Julian is marrying another man, Barry. And as much as I want to walk over there—prove to everyone I’m a bigger man, that I can take the high road in this—all I can think about is how unwanted I’ll be. The man walked out of me. Let me for that…” Dave blew out an exasperated breath. “Four years, and he threw it away because I wanted more. Only to turn around and get engaged three weeks later.” He snorted. “Christ, it’s like some damn soap opera, only so much worse. Poorly written.”

“Julian invited you. Hell, he called the house half a dozen times to confirm you’d be here. Bastard still seems to think you can be the best of friends. So, I’m pretty damn sure that means you’re wanted.” Barry huffed at Dave’s silence. “Are you worried Paul might throw a scene? That he never wanted you to come?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Then explain it to me, because you’re the one who insisted on accepting the offer. On torturing yourself more.” He thumbed the steering wheel. “I know you loved him, but…he doesn’t deserve another minute of your time. Fuck, he never deserved you.”

Dave closed his eyes. If he were honest, he didn’t know why he’d insisted on coming, either. He’d tried to convince himself it was for closure—a tangible way of dealing with Julian’s departure. But as Dave stared at the last few stragglers walking across the rain-slick grass, he knew it was a lie. Hell, it’d all been a lie. Their life. Julian’s love. None of it had been more than a mirage. It had just taken Dave four years and a shit load of ninety-proof to get any clarity. To see it for what it really had been—wasted time.

He clenched his jaw, then reefed open the door, stepping into the rain. It stung his face as he stood there, still staring at the make-shift chapel. He drew a deep breath, glancing at his buddy. Barry looked at him over the top of the truck, seemingly unsure whether to join him or simply stand there. Dave closed his eyes, searching for some kind of sign, when the wind picked up, curling around before continuing down the road.

Barry cleared his throat. “Well? We going over there?”

Dave lifted his head. “I think I’ve already gotten all I need. It’s time to stop chasing what was never there.” He looked at Barry. “Beer? First round’s on me.”

Barry grinned. “Hell, yeah. Second round, too, buddy, for making me put on this godforsaken tie.”

“Fine. Two rounds.” He smiled at his friend. “Thanks.”

Barry cocked an eyebrow as he slid in behind the wheel. “For what?”

“Not saying I told you so.”

“Night’s young. I could still gloat.”

“I’ll consider myself dully warned.”

 

That’s all for me. Had a hard time with this one. Now check out the other ladies, who probably scribbled three pages without effort.

Bronwyn Green  |  Kayleigh Jones  |  Deelylah Mullin  |  Siobhan Muir 

 

 

Promptly Penned ~ May

This month’s prompt is an interesting one.

Magic isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. For example, there are 20 spells for making tea but none to save yourself from falling off a cliff.

Let us, begin…

promptlypenned

 

Magic isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. For example, there are twenty spells for making tea but none to save yourself from falling off a cliff.

At least, that’s what played over and over in Sebastian’s head as he balanced on the slippery crag, body plastered to the unforgiving rock, each gust of wind threatening to dislodge his grip. Rain fell in torrential sheets from the dark expanse of clouds blanketing the sky, soaking through his woollen coat—making it feel as if it weighed another ten stone. He shifted his weight, trying to find better purchase on a small ledge just off to his left, but his boots slid along the slick surface, nearly tumbling him into the gully.

A laugh bubbled up through his chest, breaking free as nothing more than a murmur as the wind whipped through the opening in the cliff, drowning out any other sound but its echoing whistle and the rattle of what remained of the wooden bridge he’d been crossing. Inappropriate or not, he had to admit, his current situation was funny. Bone deep hilarity that would either end as a tale of his greatest adventure, or the markings on his epithet.

He laughed again when he realized it was most likely the latter. Not that he should have found his last moments of life funny, but… It was more the circumstances of how he’d gotten himself into the deadly situation to begin with.

Gypsies.

He knew better than to trust them. To put blind faith in their ability. After all, most of them were just skilled at reading people. Noticing subtle changes in a person’s facial expressions or how to draw out information all the while making it appear as if they’d received divine guidance. But he’d been desperate—more than desperate. This had been his one chance to track down his brother’s murderer, and Sebastian hadn’t been willing to simply give up. He had magic. Was it too farfetched to believe at least some of these so-called fortune tellers also possessed abilities.

Of course, he’d picked the one without an ounce of magical essence. But that was just becoming obvious now. At the time, he’d thought…

He sighed. He really hadn’t been thinking at all. After a week of tracking the man he believed had struck his brother down, his spell had simply vanished. Either it’d been blocked, or broken—hell, for all he knew a much more powerful mage had rewritten the damn thing and his prey was now stalking him. Either way, Sebastian had ridden into town without a clue of where to head to next.

So he’d taken his only other option—he’d asked a gypsy. And now—now he was trapped on a crumbling ledge a few hundred feet above a rocky gorge doing his best not to tumble to his death.

Sebastian released a calming breath. He was a mage. His magic was real. Surely, he could remember one tiny spell that would save his hide, yet again.

A metamorphosis spell. 

He shook his head. They were notoriously long and overly complicated. The chances of him getting every pronunciation and intonation correct while barely holding onto the ledge or hurtling to his death seemed unlikely at best.

Levitation.

A great plan, except for the part where he could only induce it within a few feet of the ground. Once he stepped off the ledge, the spell would fail.

Maybe he could manipulate the rock? Mentally carve out a set of steps or…

The wind eddied around the protrusion next to him, blowing him off balance. He shoved his fingers farther into the cracks, trying to flatten his body as best he could. But the searing cold crept up his hands, numbing them to the point it took all his concentration just to wiggle the tips. One more blast like the previous one, and he’d fall.

Sebastian grunted, drawing himself up. Metamorphosis it was. He’d just have to concentrate—ensure he didn’t make a mistake. He inhaled, mentally working his way through the spell, when pieces of rock and dirt sprayed down from above him, stinging his skin as they bounced off his face. He looked up, wondering how this day could possibly get worse, when a rope bounced over the outcrop above him, settling into place beside his head.

He stared at the offering. It wasn’t a regular rope, the shiny golden strands glowing in the waning light as sparks of energy arched off the surface. The rope swayed in the breeze, snapping with apparent annoyance when he didn’t grab it outright. The end curled toward him, more of the strange arcs brightening the small circle of space.

He sighed. While this appeared to be a miraculous answer to his prayers, he knew better than to believe it was anything other than another trap. Though, not falling to his death meant he’d be alive to create another escape plan.

He reached for the rope, cursing when the end snaked toward him, twirling up his arm then around his chest. He tried pull free, gasping when it shook him off the ledge, keeping him suspended above the gorge for several frantic heartbeats before bobbing him upwards. He bounced along the rock, groaning as pain ignited across his ribs and limbs only to be dumped on his ass in the mud.

The sloppy dirt soaked through his pants, tripping him twice before he finally gained his feet. The rope uncurled, hovering in front of him then winking out. Sebastian flicked some of the muddy water off his clothes, scanning the small clearing when a shadow moved out from the thicket of trees just off the winding path. The cloaked figure walked along the flattened stones, a golden glow colouring his hands. He seemed indifferent to the rain, the searing chill of the wind, as he headed toward Sebastian, stopping several feet away. A battle-scarred sword hung around his waist, the hilt poking out from between the edges of his overcoat. He raised his head, tilting his hat back just enough to expose his face to the yellow light.

Emerald eyes stared back at him.

Killer’s eyes.

He quirked his lips, allowing one side to lift into the beginnings of a smile. “Sebastian Thatcher. I’d say this meeting is long overdue.”

Sebastian grinned, allowing his magic to burst across his palms and up his limbs, surrounding him in an ethereal blue glow. He took a single step forward, the muddy water hissing as his power heated the air around him. “Lucian Charlemagne. Just the man I’ve been looking for. Raise your guard and prepare to die.”

 

That’s it for me. Now check out what the other ladies did with the prompt.

Jessica Jarman  |  Bronwyn Green  |  Gwendolyn Cease

Deelylah Mullin  |  Siobhan Muir