Sentinels of Varnuse 2: Wind Walkers [4]

#4.

Dominic leant back against the log and watched as Arron and Crimson bickered over just what to put in the stew pot. What did it even matter—food was food. He was sure Crimson only argued for the sake of hearing himself talk. It was kind of funny watching Arron get so flustered over the little slip of a man. He wondered how long it would be before Arron just lashed out and knocked Crimson out. God he hoped the stopped arguing soon—anything for some peace and quiet. Mind you, then he’d have to retaliate by knocking Aaron onto his arse for harming his mate.

“We need more spices, it brings out the flavours more, it will infuse the meat more.” Crimson declared.

“What meat? You chucked a hissy fit and wouldn’t let me add any.” Arron growled.

Crimson rolled his eyes, “I said you couldn’t have bird flesh as your meat source, feel free to stick anything else in it. Why don’t you get your big strong mate to catch your some fish and use that? Or hunt down a wilder boar”

Dominic chuckled; he knew Arron would rather die of starvation before he would ask Vayne for help with anything. The two were only together now because they were both mated to Simian. Not that either of them seemed to believe. They constantly argued no man in the history of their people had ever had two mates. So now they worked together to locate Simian, and once the man was found he’d be able to sort all this shit out by telling them just who his true mate was.

Over the time they’d been travelling companions Vayne had talked to him—probably needing someone to be his sounding board—someone who wouldn’t judge. He knew that deep down in his heart Vayne honestly he was Simian’s mate. Vayne was also pretty sure that Arron believed the same thing. The worst past for Vayne told him was that the more time he spent around Arron; the harder it was to keep the man at arm’s length. Apparently everything about Arron attracted seemed to Vayne.

“If you don’t go away and leave me the hell alone I am going to rip your tongue out and add it to the stew.” The sound of the anger in his voice was enough to bring Dominic back out of his thoughts

“I’m not doing anything wrong. You are the one who doesn’t know how to cook.” Crimson yelled as Arron stood up and strode towards the forest; punching a small tree as he passed. “You know that tree never hurt anyone” Crimson taunted.

Crimson turned towards him with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Well my work is done.” He laughed as he came over and sat beside Dominic.

“One of these days you are going to push him too far.” Dominic said

“He’s too uptight; he needs to loosen up a little. I never see him smile unless he’s looking at Vayne. But then it seems more of a sad smile like he’s hurting. I don’t understand why he’d be hurting? I mean they’re mates after all. Why doesn’t he turn to Vayne for comfort? Why doesn’t Vayne comfort him when he needs it? I know with us I’m going to love you like there’s no tomorrow. I’ll never treat you like you Like Vayne and Arron treat each other. Why can’t they see how wrong it is?”

When Crimson finally slowed to take a breath Dominic answered. “Arron and Vayne aren’t willing to admit they’re also mated to each other as well as Simian. They each think the other is claiming to be Simian’s mate out of spite.”

“What do you mean when you say they’re not mates? Of course they are. If they’re both mated to Simian then they have to be mated to each other, right? That’s the way it works with Simian’s kind. He needs the added love to keep him grounded and safe. If they don’t come to some sort of compromise on this, then they’ll never be truly happy once they’re reunited with Simian? Fate chose the three of them for a reason. Fate is never wrong.”

“Again I have to ask how do you know all this?” Dominic asked his mate genuinely perplexed by it all.

“Our grandmother was a big believer in the old ways, she taught Nico and I all about how things were and the way they were meant to still be. Something happened in all the eons that have passed and our way of thinking changed. Grandmother told us that one day it would be up to Nico and I to lead the world in the right direction and get our people back on track. Grandfather thought she was polluting our minds and he had her killed, he burnt all her books along with her body but I always remember the things she told us. Because I believe they are true.”

“Your Grandfather had his wife killed?” Dominic blurted in utter shock.

“Yes, apparently Grandfather isn’t a believer in the old ways.”

“One day you are going to have to write down all that your grandmother told you. Preserve the stories for generations to come.”

Dominic pointed to where Vayne had followed Aaron into the surrounding bush land and smiled—maybe things will all work out.

I hope so.

Beautiful According To me ~ Character Inspiration: The Brother's McCrieve

When I first saw this picture I immediately knew I wanted to use him as a character in a story... At first I wasn't even sure which story I would like to use him in, but the more I look at him the more The Brother's McCrieve comes to mind... I think this beautiful person is going to end up being one of the main characters in book 1: In The Arms Of Justice... I think I finally found the first born and leader of my Demon Pod—Justice McCrieve.

Another one when I first saw it I knew that I had found Jericho McCrieve—Second in charge (Beta or something similar—still thinking on a word I want to use) Also second born in their pod. Whereas Justice is calm and wise Jericho like to kick a little arse when needed.

Jaeger McCrieve—Third in line. He's also the more technically inclined. He's also in charge of keeping track of jobs and payments owed. He also tends to be the more level headed out of the brothers.

Joss McCrieve—Fourth born and in charge of fire-power. He's the one that buys the weaponry and making sure they have gear for each assignment they are sent out on.

Jaik McCrieve—Fifth born and scout for the pod. Jaik goes out before hand and checks out the local of where they are supposed to collect who they are sent after. He makes sure there are no nasty surprises waiting for them.

Jarrel McCrieve—Sixth and last born in the pod. His job in the group is as the medic out in the field. He's also the most protected of the pod as medics are a rare breed. They are born knowing. Once a pod loses their medic they either have to go without, or steal a medic from another pod.

Why is it?

Why is it when you think your kids are old enough to fend for themselves they seem to need more?

1—More time.

2—More attention.

3—More money.

At 14 & 25 I’m thinking less should be the new more… My life long motto has always been: the more you ask—the less you get.

I know I’ve probably said it a dozen times or more I seriously can’t wait for them both to go back to school and life can go back to semi normal… well, kind of… My hubs has just announced he might be going to New Zealand to work—as our construction company is looking at some jobs over there… It won’t really change much especially when he s normally working away from home in Australia. I guess there will be both pros and cons if this happens…

Con—We’ll hardly see him, as he will stay for a month at a time (but we have been through that before).

Pro—He won’t be home to be a TV remote control hog (this is something he is really bad at).

Con—He won’t be home to do the yard work (I hate mowing).

Pro—The yard work will get done in half the time (hubs has a tendency to get side-tracked halfway through a job and start something new).

Con—I’ll get stuck running all the errands (let’s face it I should be pretty used to this one by now).

Pro—The grocery bill will drop dramatically (And I’ll get to cook things that don’t involve meat and mashed potatoes).

On that note I will away as I have a ton of work to get through before the family get home from work etc... I'll chat again tomorrow and hopefully I'll have something a little more interesting to talk about than my family life.

Guest Blogger: David Russell

Fools’ Paradise

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Blurb:

In the heyday of the Hippie Counterculture, Jim, a disaffected postgraduate, goes on a rural retreat in quest of his identity. He finds a cool alternative abode, which initiates in a bizarre relationship with the housemother, Celia, who turns out to be an undercover police officer, but also with dubious connections. Things develop, including a delicious one—off with Celia, and Jim is drawn towards the edges of nefarious activity. He ends up waiting for his Barrister, convinced he will clear him.

Excerpt:

So, how did I, Jim Herrington, come across this place? By inspired fumbling, which is the way most things cross my path. In those far off days, like so many people of my ilk, I was an impassioned hitchhiker. Somewhat fashionably and rather typically, I followed a long, meandering route around the country, taking occasional prompts and directions from my Alternative Organic Living magazine. My destination house was charted there.

Having previously been socialized into the YHA, I didn’t really foresee any problems getting on with whomsoever I might encounter, unless they were the problematical ones, in which case I would split.

The girl who came to the door, wearing a long patchwork robe, obviously home-made, looked rather like an alternative Youth Hostel warden. “What brings you here,” she asked me, as if I were one of many who had passed through the house, “Time warp? Culture shock?”

“A bit of both.” I felt that my turgid, disordered thesis and my messed-up academic career merited those tags.

“So, life got you into a bit of a tangle, and you’re interested in straightening yourself out? That’s cool.” Not as a stranger! We could have taken those words out of each other’s mouths.

“Your bread’s ok?” She gave me a suspicious, sidelong look which she quickly covered with a tight smile. “This is a safe address for giros,” she said, “within reason.”

“I’m into grants and fees,” I replied.

Her eyes lit up. “OK, Jim, then there’s room for you. I guess you are familiar with the kind of set-up we have here. There’s a rota of weekly tasks to keep the place shipshape—the living rooms and the other shared rooms. What you do with your own room is your own affair, again within reason, of course. And you must be prepared to attend house meetings. Domestic business is done on a communal basis, that is, based on democratic majority decision.”

“I’ve been an aspiring student politician, honey, so that’s second nature to me.”

“Do you…take anything?”

“Only the soft ones, in harmony with organic diets and herbal medicines.”

“That’s perfectly cool. We’ve just got to draw the line at the hard stuff. Well, stick around. You’ll meet the others in a couple of hours or so.”

Comment:

Jim Herrington has found himself wandering and hitchhiking across America, trying to find his place in the world after some difficulties in his Academic workplace. Staying at a cross between a commune and youth hostel, he struggles to fit into the alternative, volatile situation he finds himself in. Ceila, the “house mother” is a strange, mysterious woman prone to sudden changes of heart, yet Jim finds himself unaccountably attracted to her.

This is a slightly strange book, unlike most anything else I’ve read. Told in the first person in some ways it’s difficult to understand what’s going on, as we can only see things from Jim’s perspective and experience. Also, while much is alluded to throughout the story, I didn’t feel as if some things were very clearly explained, things like why – exactly – Jim found himself at this hostel, what he was running from and whether he was complicit in much of the drug trafficking and such. In some ways this felt to me like one of those “confessions of” stories, and while I did enjoy it, I spent most of the time mystified as to where the story was going, what was fully happening with the plot, and what the thrust of the plot really was. Despite this I wanted to understand, the author’s writing was quick, precise and interesting and so I continued to read in the hopes of illumination. While even upon completion I still didn’t get most of it, I didn’t feel as if I had wasted my time either, reading something completely alternative and refreshingly different.

There’s no traditional romance or erotica in this short story, the sex is held pretty much behind closed doors (there’s no graphic content to it, merely a build up to it and then declaration of the act having been performed) and while it’s clear the main relationship is between Jim and Celia, I didn’t personally find any romance between them. For an erotic short story this surprised me, but seemed to resonate with the first person, slightly disjointed, mysterious tone and presentation of the whole tale. I feel that readers who are looking for something completely outside the box and different might truly enjoy this, but readers wanting just a quick, sexy read mightn’t find what they’re looking for here.

A really different read, but still enjoyable.

Originally posted at Long and Short Reviews

Therapy Rapture

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Blurb:

Perry has a desire for the right woman to spend some time with, enjoying each other’s company, a romantic interlude that would lead to that one fabulous encounter, bringing complete ecstasy.

Rowena is a therapist who has endured a repressed childhood. She loves dressing up and feels that the clothes have a way of caressing her body. She wants him to open up his mind to his dreams.

He begins to ache for Rowena. He finds her dark, sultry and somewhat reserved. He finds hard professional women sexy, and she happens to be just the one he believes could bring out that strong urge that he needs to release. Rowena wants him to incorporate his dreams into a healing process. She is able to help him release his inner self as the two have some romantic interludes that lead to total satisfaction. By giving into what their hearts and mind desires, they are able to find that one medium that captures their souls. After everything is over, will they be able to face the world positively?

Excerpt:

A breeze smiled on me, soothing the migraine of the day’s travelling.

Rowena, my therapist, was so soothing. Her almond eyes were a warm synthesis of liquidity and matured resin, her lips verging on purple. She was dark, sultry, feline, laid back, reserved, and accommodating, but with such potential for elusiveness! Her low velvet voice melted my reserve and made me ache, my fingers poised to do that touch talk. She had a hold on me, so tender, so yielding, but so firm, I had some token resistance, some caution, but I wanted that, I arranged it, but I did not know what to do about it.

I’d been in my self-protective shell for so long, and always tended to put others down for being conned. It was good that I finally got out of that job. I had had to stretch my upper lip to near the snapping point. Considering what I felt about my supervisor, that good lump of severance pay would give me time so sort myself out. Still, I had committed myself to what I had decided was essential treatment. She had to bring me out, and it would be a sustained operation. She outlined to me that there were a multitude of blocks. We had been consulting together for several months, and at the mental level, we had melted many defensive barriers. How often had our breath felt like a string, pulling us closer to that introductory caress, how often had I felt we nearly touched each other as we delicately paced our minds through those in-depth confessions! Or, how skilled she was at covering up a possible web of stresses and tensions, which was strictly her private area! What traumas must she have experienced to get that delicious equipoise that now faced me, defined me, challenged me, the positives balancing the rejection taboos of my past? Her body language rippled and throbbed—the way she controlled the crossing and uncrossing of her legs, the way she wore skirts of just the right length, or jeans just loose enough to ripple, knowing how to caress herself, knowing how to make her clothes caress her. Her favourite delicate fabrics must really turn her on. She certainly showed me a wide variety of outfits at our various consultations. My wishful thinking simmered. Perhaps there was a coded message underneath her assured professional front. My eyes alternated between her body and her file, between the hand controlling her pen and the eyes, brain and body controlling me. I had laid myself open to her by consulting her…there is always two-way potential…

She had put on no scent, but the natural perfume of her aura permeated me. I was a confused cocktail of trance and clear-headedness.

She had spent one long session struggling to coax me into positive thinking. Through the usual heavy family conditioning and through a good number of snubs and vicious deceptions, I had grown so many defensive membranes, layers that now felt congealing, coagulating.

Next session, I had to go back to her with a progress report on the programme of self-redirection she had drafted for me. As ever, Rowena urged me to incorporate my dreams into the healing process. She switched on some rippling, vaporous meditation music with a background of natural sounds, water and breeze on her sound system, got me comfortable on the couch. She then sat beside me, looking me hypnotically, straight in the face. I felt that she always mentally undressed me in these sessions, putting out laser rays on my buttons and zips. That was what made them so effective and sustained her hold on me.

Her soul embraced me, so that I wanted her to absorb my essence into her own body and mind.  Her lips and nostrils were in titillating accord as she faced me and acknowledged me. I ached for her hands, I longed to reciprocate. The buttons on her blouse, the suggestion of the crisp bra within, were so magnetic. When she touched the buckle of her belt, her fingers almost clinching to undo…Rowena induced a trance in me, barely repressed by formality, and I felt it was taking hold of her, as well. It was obeying a non-verbal instruction, tunnelling out of the prison of routine obedience. I ached for her hands to undo my clothes.

Comment:

I have been reviewing David Russell’s work the past couple of days, and I must say that I have saved the best for last. Therapy Rapture is one of the most eclectic short stories I have come across. It combines a short story, art, and poetry. Crazy cool, huh?

Our male protagonist has an issue separating fantasy from reality. Throw in a therapist and a fitness trainer, and we have all the hot makings of a sensual read. After reading a few of Russell’s short stories, I see that he has an eye for romance and subtle details. His character lives in the moment, and each movement is filed with emotion and meaning. This builds quite the anticipation for lovemaking. And speaking of lovemaking, David has a soft hand for these types of scenes, preferring to keep the erotic details hidden. I find it refreshing and alluring.

I also really enjoyed how Russell changed up things a little with artwork and poetry. It was an unexpected break from the usual short stories, and one I liked very much. After reviewing Russell’s work over the past couple of days, I’ve come to know his work as truly unique. His writing is very abstract, sophisticated, and sensual, and I highly recommend Therapy Rapture!

~Zee [Fire Pages]

Author Bio:

b. 1940. Resident in the UK. Writer of poetry, literary criticism, speculative fiction and romance. Main poetry collection Prickling Counterpoints (1998); poems published in online International Times. Main speculative works High Wired On (2002); Rock Bottom (2005). Translation of Spanish epic La Araucana, Amazon 2013. Romances: Self’s Blossom; Explorations; Further Explorations; Therapy Rapture; Darlene, An Ecstatic Rendezvous (all pub Extasy (Devine Destinies). Singer-songwriter/guitarist. Main CD albums: Bacteria Shrapnel and Kaleidoscope Concentrate. Many tracks on You Tube, under ‘Dave Russell’

Find David Here

David Russell Novelist 

Air-Con Heaven & Other Things

After almost a year of complaining to my hubs he finally installed an air-con into the lounge room. So now my Surface Pro doesn't overheat when I'm working in the lounge room. The cats are loving it too. They're 13 yo and are now living the life of luxury. I can tell you this summer in Australia it has been stinking hot—a scorcher even. I'll be glad when it's over. The other good news about the air-con is that I finally got rid of the horrid wooden blinds and have maroon curtains up. I much prefer curtains as they are easier to keep clean.

Other News: 

The TAXES are done—for this quarter at least—actually it was for last quarter in 2014. I'd apparently forgotten to do them, but my wonderful Book Keeper, Chris D at COBS reminded me.

Also yesterday I filled in and returned the cover Art forms to Fireborn Publishing on The Diamond Rose 1: Gateway To Kalethia. I can't wait to share it with you all. I think getting new covers is probably one of my favourite things about completing a book.

I'm still typing up The Lines of Marsden 3: You Make Me Die In Pieces. If I don't get it finished soon I think Christie N, my wonderful editor at MLRPress will come to my neck of the woods and kick my arse to hell and back.

Other than that, I'm still playing catch up on everything else. I never got the office cleaned like I wanted as the taxes ended up taking over most of the day. So I will try and get some more done this afternoon.

Tax Time & Office Space

This is what I feel like doing right now as I hate doing the taxes... Doing them quarterly sucks... at least this time I only have the dockets to scan as I've done the rest.

Also in between scanning everything I'm cleaning the office... I'm still trying to work out how it gets so messy. I swear it isn't me. hell I've been working on my laptop for the majority of the last couple of weeks and I walk into the office today and there is paperwork everywhere.

I think this time I clean the office I'll just ban everyone else from being inside my space... Well, at least I can dream... as my 14 yo also uses the office for his homework.

2015: The Year Of The Weird ~ Or So It Seems

I swear to God I told you only a few days ago that 2015 was going to be my year. the year where my writing schedule fell into place and everything ran smoothly and i stayed on time with each additional project—don't laugh it really works—sometimes... now I'm starting to think maybe it will be my year of the totally fucked up & just plain weird—especially, when it comes to all things electrical. It's totally starting to drive me nuts.

This is what I mean:

1) The lid of my kettle recently decided that every time I wanted to open it the damn thing would shoot off and skid across the bench… So I had to bet a new one.

2) My office computer has decided not to let me cut and paste into documents. It keeps taking half the documents away. So I have to shut down and save between each thing—major PITA.

3) My tablet is working thank god so at least can still work. Mind you the heat is playing havoc with everything. Though, my facebook is constantly doing weird shit—but what else is new.

I’m still crazy busy writing. In between doing taxes and getting Ethan & Emily ready for the new school year—high school & university (bloody hell—it’s costing me a fortune).

On the downside: my Ross River Fever is still hanging around and being a huge pain in the arse. So, I’d be grateful if you could send all your positive thoughts my way.