COLLEEN’S 2019 WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 119 “MYSTERY & ATTRACT,” #SYNONYMSONLY

Here’s a short, unedited passage from the second book in the series The Curse of Time – Golden Healer which I’m currently working on. It fits in well with Colleen’s two synonyms this week – mystery and attract.

For mystery I’m using enigma and for attract I’d decided upon beguiling. Enjoy!

 

Too Tasty To Ignore!

 

A pleasing parcel,

Wrapped in black jeans, tight tee-shirt,

Enigma to solve,

Beguiling but dangerous,

Was I a fool to trust him?

 

How could I explain this? Had Ryder fooled me? The strange, charismatic young man who appeared to come to my rescue on the river pathway when I’d first met him. Could he be responsible for the Bloodstone’s disappearance? I doubted that he would taint his hands with such an act. Instead, I wondered whether he might have used an accomplice. His recent behaviour painted a new picture of him — one that showed his true identity — a nasty, vindictive portrait.

Had I been foolish to trust him? What kind of person was he? And what secrets lay hidden in his heart?

I pondered how I would react if he came through the front door. For a moment, I imagined him entering. He’d be dressed in his signature black tee-shirt peeled tight across his ripped chest. His buttoned jeans would scream touch me. His black hair and eyebrows would be immaculately trimmed highlighting his eyes that would make you pause and gasp in surprise. Perhaps, I’d stare at his sensual blue eye while his black eye would blaze back at me like a dark alleyway full of dangerous excitement.

His expression would alter as soon as he approached. He’d raise an eyebrow as if he registered a sudden change in the environment.

He’d say something innocuous like. ‘Have your mum and dad been decorating? It’s very bright. The sad old place looks like it has had a new lease of life. Even the mirrors look different. Like they’re missing something.’

 

© M J Mallon

 

After all that you might need a piece of cake…  to wash down the sour taste of what Ryder may become… Ahh villains are so fun to write!

Here’s an extra bit of poetry just for fun. A lovely cake from Harriet’s tea rooms in Cambridge. It was almost too good to eat. It reminded me of  Ryder, he is so mesmerisingly handsome that he makes your mouth water. Enjoy!

img_20190112_144639_368

Shall I start eating?

This cheeky dessert mouthful,

Or just admire it?

Fork poised in the air trembling.

Such decisions, decisions!

 

Hope you enjoyed. I certainly did.

Do join in Colleen’s poetry challenge.

Here’s the link:

https://colleenchesebro.com/2019/01/15/colleens-2019-weekly-tanka-tuesday-poetry-challenge-no-119-mystery-attract-synonymsonly/

Bye for now,

bitmoji-20180711090345

 

85978b3eeb2a2f45468e6707ceafe70d

m j mallon _ ya author

Buy Book: myBook.to/TheCurseofTime

I’m a contributing author in the Plaisted Publishing House Ghostly Writes Anthology 2018 with my story Ghostly Goodbye.

Available on Amazon, Apple, Nook, Kobo, Scribd, 24S, Playster, Indigo, Angus & Robertson, Mondadori Store:

 Universal Buying Link

Social Media Links

Authors Websitehttps://atomic-temporary-67364188.wpcomstaging.com
Collaborative Bloghttps://sistersofthefey.wordpress.com
Twitter: @Marjorie_Mallon and @curseof_time
#ABRSC: Authors Bloggers Rainbow Support Club on Facebook
Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17064826.M_J_Mallon

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mjmallonauthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mjmallonauthor/

 

#BlogBattle: Flower – Mr Sagitarrius

 

This is my entry for Rachael Ritchey’s #BlogBattle – Flower https://blogbattlers.wordpress.com/2019/01/01/flower/

This is inspired by my frequent visits to the Botanic Gardens in Cambridge. It truly is a magical place.

Mr Sagittarius

I know I am dying so I have come to bid all my loves and especially my dearest orchid a final farewell. I pray I will surrender my soul to a place that will be as sweet as this hot house garden. I have a bequest in my pocket. It includes a generous sum of money for a park bench in honour of this magnificent garden. I will ask for a few simple words to be engraved on my bench when I pass to the garden of death.

It will say:

 

Mr Sagitarrius Died This Day in This Snow Drop Garden.

20190108_133917

Forgive me – I am ninety two,

I forgot all but two of my loves’ names,

My first and my last.

But I remember my orchid.

Love is a garden.

It is divine.

Everyday my old limbs pay a visit to the Botanic Garden in Cambridge. I hate routine, but my aching joints oblige when my lonely soul is in need of  feminine company. It is winter and in this season of chills, chilblains, snow and ice my favourite haunt is the glasshouses. There my ancient heart is warmed and I reminisce about… LOVE.

20190108_142319

My eyes begin a familiar journey. First alighting on one of many beauties, my first love! The bird of paradise flower which I stumbled across in Papua New Guinea when I was an innocent. I was an adventurer, then.  But, once awakened by the attentions of Ruth I became a Casanova! I fell in love, or perhaps in lust with Ruth – a dark-skinned beauty. I still remember the curve of her youthful skin and the way she used to gyrate her hips to entice me to join her in bed.

I linger in silent contemplation remembering Ruth and our amorous nights. Oh, what regrets followed the sudden demise of our fiery liaison.  The never-ending jealousies were a sign of my Sagittarius failings, and my dare I say it?

Inability to commit.

Here I go again. Even at my advanced age my old knees fight the urge to rest and move on… longing to see…  my next conquest.

20190108_140755

There she is! Oh sigh. What a divine creature. Twirling on tiptoe, my ballerina flower. Yes, how you could dance, pirouetting on pointe. I remember you in Swan Lake. How perfect you were, your tutu twirling around as your hair remained still. Such a picture of perfection characterised by that tight bun. How I relished swiftly untwirling your hair and removing all of your clothing the very same night. And dare I say it? There was an encore! But even you could not keep my attention for long. Not when there was such a fire in my belly.

 

There she is!  Wicked creature, I blame this red glory for breaking us up.

20190108_141106

She rose up to demand my attention like a pompon ablaze, sharp-witted with spikes of outrageous character. Oh, how this strange flower reminds me of her. She had bright red hair, and such a quirky personality.  I was hooked and yet, I regret, her true name escapes me, so I nickname you Calliandra. My mind is not as sharp as it used to be. Please forgive me, my beautiful red bonnet.

If by any chance we ever meet again I would rest my head on your shoulder. I’d begin by stroking your hair to get close to you. I’d caress you until intoxicated by your scent I would trace tiny trails of tender kisses down your perfect body. Sigh, the memory of this is almost too much for me. I feel quite giddy. Let me rest for a moment in a quiet corner. Or, I fear that some well-meaning but overzealous first aider will attach that defibrillator to me! Please don’t bother. It’s not needed.

 

I should have known you wouldn’t let me rest you selfish wench!

Narcissus, my daffodil.

20190108_140451

You command attention and I obey. Your beauty is cunning and without compare and yet I sense there is something lacking.

You are too selfish.

You cannot love.

 

My orchid….

20190108_142036

I should have visited you first. Please forgive me dearest sweetheart. You were the most exquisite of them all. My last, my first true love, an oriental flower, slender, graceful, full of charm, but, oh so fragile. I should have known. Oh, how I miss you. Now I am a ghost and lost without you. I settled for you, forgetting all others. Now I, this ghost of regret, understands the true nature of love. And now you pay me back for my thoughtlessness – your cruel ghost avoids me.

How could you be so wicked?

Perhaps you never died.

True beauty never does.

 

©M J Mallon

 

 

Hope you liked my story. I really enjoyed doing this one!

Bye for now,

bitmoji968817799 (1)

 

85978b3eeb2a2f45468e6707ceafe70d

Buy Book: myBook.to/TheCurseofTime

Social Media Links

Authors Websitehttps://atomic-temporary-67364188.wpcomstaging.com
Collaborative Bloghttps://sistersofthefey.wordpress.com
Twitter: @Marjorie_Mallon and @curseof_time
#ABRSC: Authors Bloggers Rainbow Support Club on Facebook
Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17064826.M_J_Mallon

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mjmallonauthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mjmallonauthor/

#Book Review – Eleanor’s Secret by Caroline Beecham

 

Goodreads Synopsis:

Can Eleanor follow her heart in troubled times?

Eleanor Roy is determined to do her bit for the war effort after being recruited by the War Artist Advisory Committee. When she meets handsome artist Jack Valante, her dreams seem to be finally coming true when Jack promises to help her pursue her ambition of becoming an artist. But after a whirlwind romance, Eleanor is devastated when Jack is posted overseas.

When Eleanor receives some unexpected news she desperately tries to find Jack. But with the young couple torn apart by war, will they be reunited and find happiness at last?

A heartwarming wartime saga perfect for fans of Ellie Dean and Nancy Revell.

My review

Thank you to the author for a copy – opinions are my own.

This novel attracted me with its artistic slant and Eleanor’s desire to become a female war artist. I’ve never read anything about war artists before so this definitely piqued my interest. I particularly loved the scenes which focused on the war orphans and Eleanor struggling at first to bring them out of their shells, but succeeding by encouraging them to focus on things that mattered to them – taking them out of the carnage of war and into a happier place.

There are two main female characters: Eleanor and her granddaughter, Kathryn both of whom are engaging and well-developed.  I found the shifts in time from WWII to modern day Britain a little jarring to begin with but I soon got the hang of it!

It is a well-written love story and a mystery too – What happened to Jack? Why did he disappear? I particularly enjoyed Jack’s diaries. These helped me gain a deeper understanding of Jack’s character and his frustration at the futility of war. There were rare moments of beauty.  These particular entries shone through allowing for a momentary respite from Jack’s witnessing and recording daily bloodshed.

Overall, a well-researched story with some fantastic descriptive detail which really drew you into the story and made you feel totally invested in the characters and setting. I’d recommend this novel for readers of historical romance and those with an interest in art and art history.

I’d rate this 4.5 stars as the ending was so powerfully moving that it made me cry! I love it when that happens. Such a fantastic ending… ❤

Authors Website: https://carolinebeecham.com/

HAVE YOU READ Eleanor’s Secret? Do comment if you have – I’d love to hear your views…

Bye for now, happy reading!

bitmoji-20180711090255

85978b3eeb2a2f45468e6707ceafe70d

m j mallon _ ya author

Buy Book: myBook.to/TheCurseofTime

Social Media Links

Authors Websitehttps://mjmallon.com
Collaborative Bloghttps://sistersofthefey.wordpress.com
Twitter: @Marjorie_Mallon and @curseof_time
#ABRSC: Authors Bloggers Rainbow Support Club on Facebook
Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17064826.M_J_Mallon

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mjmallonauthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mjmallonauthor/

#Shortstory: The Old Man of Snow and The Snow Snake

 

IMAGE BY STEFAN KELLER

I’ve written a short story in response to Diana’s wonderful prompt on Myths of The Mirror.

Here is the link if you’d like to join in too:

https://mythsofthemirror.com/2019/01/01/new-feature-speculative-fiction-writing-prompt/

 

The Old Man of Snow and The Snow Snake

Today, the moon is full and high in the sky and a group of nineteen men travel with brave hearts to the mouth of the Snow Snake Cave.

The wind is biting cold. Each man carries a pack of provisions on his back and thoughts of his loved ones in his heart. They know that this journey might be one to their deaths and yet they trudge on.

At last after many exhausted steps they arrive at the forbidding entrance of the cave. It is no ordinary grotto. This cave is fashioned out of layer upon layer of snow. The mouth of which is an ice sculpture of a snake’s jaw gaping, its eyes furious and wide. The old man above is exquisite, his hair and snow beard fall in intricate icicles. He is leaning to one side, his hand of snow pushing down on the snake as if it coax it to move.

The Old Man of Snow startles the men, he stirs, his snow encrusted eyes open wide as he bellows,

‘Dare you approach us? I think not little men. I will crush you like ants and feed you to my friend the Snow Snake.’

The men stop so suddenly that they almost fall over with exhaustion. Several of them stagger backwards frightened by the sheer size and forbidding nature of the Old Man of Snow. But, one amongst them stays still, resolute and strong.

He squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath and replies. ’I have come to meet with the Old Man of Snow and the legendary Snow Snake. I wish to discuss what you’ve done with the countless others who have ventured here. That is all that I and this brave group of men want – my old friends back. We are not greedy men. We don’t desire wealth, or gold, we only want happiness.’

Happiness?’ the Old Man lifts his hand and pulls at his beard. The Snow Snake begins to wind his tail back and forth causing a volley of tiny snowballs to fall.

‘They are lying Old Man,’ said the Snow Snake, hissing. ‘They mean to trick us. Don’t allow them passage. If you do, I will swish my furious tail even more and they will be crushed under an avalanche of snow.’

‘Silence, Snow Snake! I am sick of your reptilian attitude. Let them speak. I have never heard a human ask for so little before and I am curious if indeed they speak the truth.’

The humble man bowed before the Old Man of Snow and then kneeled on the cold earth. ‘I swear by the almighty that I tell the truth. I, and my men are simple farmers, we tend the earth, eat our crops, and milk our herd. We don’t need riches and fame.’

‘You are a wise man. Unfortunately, your friends who came before you were foolish and greedy. They tried to steal from the Snow Snake and he and I were very angry.’

‘They were wrong to do so and I apologise on their behalf. Please forgive me for asking but what happened to their foolish souls?’

‘Within the cave there are a multitude of tiny snow snakes who wriggle free when they smell greed. These tiny snakes are lethal, one bite of their venom stilled these greedy mens’ hearts and froze them for all eternity.  Here, come. I grant you entry to see the power we possess so you will not dare to steal from us. The ice sculptures of your friends are very beautiful.’

The men muttered. Some made as if to turn back but the leader spoke again.

‘Men come with me, we must pay our respects to our old friends.’

One replied, ‘Are you mad? They may do the same to us. How can you trust the Old Man of Snow,  the Snow Snake and his allies the tiny venomous snakes?’

‘I only know what is right and good,’ replied the humble man.

‘So will it be,’ said several of his followers, but many turned away, retracing their steps back from where they had come.

The few that remained were granted a passage into the mouth of the Snow Snake’s cave. But the snake hissed and rattled his snow tail in a show of extreme displeasure.

The Old Man of snow stamped his snowy boots, and the snake stopped.

Once inside the cave, the humble man and his band of followers saw nothing but ice and snow. They heard no sign of life, no trickle of water, but still they walked on.

As they turned a corner, the cave widened, and they entered a room which was ablaze with a colourful array of magical stones. For a moment even the humble man was tempted to pop one of these magnificent stones in his pocket but then he remembered the Old Man’s warning.

The men began to question their desires. ‘Surely one small stone for each of us wouldn’t be a wicked thing to do?’ they clamoured.

The humble man turned to them in turn and spoke. ‘We are here to save our friends, not to steal. We must save them, or bid them farewell. Follow me.’

With much grumbling and moaning the men finally did as they were told and were rewarded with the sight of the ice sculptures.

How beautiful they were. Each of the trapped men had been saved for all eternity in a moment of rugged, albeit, frozen handsomeness. None of these men would ever age,  hunger, or cry, ever again.

The humble man touched each sculpture and openly wept, greeting each by name. His tears fell on the sculptures and caused them to melt, little by little. His followers did the same. Soon the tears flowed so freely that each and every sculpture broke apart to reveal their living friends within.

All were reunited in the most beautiful moment.  Hugs and words of regret were shared. They were no longer as rugged, or as handsome as they had been whilst enclosed in ice, but they wept true tears of joy that they lived. They could now go home to their beloved family and friends.

The Old Man bellowed so loudly that he could be heard. ‘Humble man, you are blessed by a natural inclination to fortune and good sense. Your heart is kind. Take one stone – a magical Sphene – back to your village. You are worthy. It will make your harvest plentiful forever more.’

The humble man wept, glad that he had not succumbed to greed’s desire but had been rewarded for his earnestness. He paused for a moment unsure how to proceed.  Which stone was a Sphene? His fingers trailed the masses of crystals and alighted on a single one. It was plain in comparison to the rest, a clump of layered plates and flattened wedge-shaped crystals. But when he placed it in his hands it glowed in a dazzling array of colours.

He cried, his friends cried too, and they hugged each other. They started to move back towards the mouth of the cave.

The snow snake hissed. ‘How dare you, Old Man? I thought you were joking! That Sphene is our treasure. My treasure! Stop this immediately, or I will kill them all.’

Inside the cave, there was a rustling noise as a billion tiny snow snakes appeared, hissing in fury they slithered menacingly towards the men. The men clutched their hearts in fear, their eyes wide with panic.

The Old Man didn’t reply. Not one word slipped from his lips. Instead, he blew from his mouth, and continued to blow. The tiny snakes were blown back, tumbling and rolling into snowballs whence they had come. The wind picked up as a flurry of snow began to trickle from the Snow Snake’s body. The men ran as the Snow Snake’s body started to break apart, as small pieces of the entrance of the cave were thrown to the wind.

‘Hurry!’ shouted the Old Man. ‘If you don’t run, you will be crushed under the Snow Snake’s broken cave body.’

The men ran as fast as they could. Just as they exited the mouth of the cave the roof of the snow snake cave began to crumble.

The Snow Snake’s mouth blew apart in a final raging hiss before it crushed back together, closing the entrance to the cave forever more.

The men collapsed to the ground, safe but breathing heavily.

Once the humble man had recovered his breath he spoke. ‘Why did you protect and save us, mere strangers to you, above your companion the snow snake?’

The Old Man of Snow lifted his hand and cupped the area around where his heart would have rested. ‘There is no room for a greedy heart. It is lonely to live alone but it better to live alone than to blight the gift of true magic with greed.’

©M J Mallon

 

Oh I really enjoyed writing that!

Hope you enjoyed.

Bye for now,

bitmoji968817799 (1)

 

85978b3eeb2a2f45468e6707ceafe70d

m j mallon _ ya author

 

Buy Book: myBook.to/TheCurseofTime

 

I’m a contributing author in the Plaisted Publishing House Ghostly Writes Anthology 2018 with my story Ghostly Goodbye.

Available on Amazon, Apple, Nook, Kobo, Scribd, 24S, Playster, Indigo, Angus & Robertson, Mondadori Store:

Universal Buying Link

 

Social Media Links

Authors Websitehttps://atomic-temporary-67364188.wpcomstaging.com
Collaborative Bloghttps://sistersofthefey.wordpress.com
Twitter: @Marjorie_Mallon and @curseof_time
#ABRSC: Authors Bloggers Rainbow Support Club on Facebook
Goodreadshttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17064826.M_J_Mallon

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mjmallonauthor/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mjmallonauthor/

 

 

Living In A Paranormal World

A fascinating post by my sis Adele Marie Park about the Navajo Rangers living jn a paranormal and danferous world. Reblogged from The Sisters Of The Fey.

#writerproblems: #characterdeath in #storytelling (Part 1: Noooo, Billy!)

Jean Lee is talking about #characterdeath on her blog

jeanleesworld's avatarJean Lee's World

You know the scene.

The kind that makes you go, “NOOOOOOOOOO!” because a beloved and/or cool character is about to die.

Every time. Seriously, every time I see PredatorI say, “Nooo, Billy!” at the screen. As a member of the audience, I’m invested in seeing the characters’ survival against the Predator. I want to see the characters’ skill sets aid them in overcoming the conflicts and obstacles that await them before the journey’s end.

This can be said as a reader of any high-stakes story, really. Look at a few big SFF series for examples. We want Captain Kirk and his crew to survive. We want Harry Potter and all his friends to survive. We want the Fellowship of the Ring to survive. We want Katniss Everdeen and her loved ones to survive. We want Luke Skywalker and his friends to survive.

We know these people are fictional, but…

View original post 745 more words

New Year, New Feature: a Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt

An awesome pic from Diana to use as writing inspiration for January #WritingPrompt.

D. Wallace Peach's avatarMyths of the Mirror

I wish you all a wonderfully creative, happy, healthy, and safe new year, full of laughter and love.

**

After 5+ years of blogging, I thought I’d try something new… finally. How about a Monthly Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt? Sue Vincent was the inspiration for this idea since I’ve loved participating in her weekly prompts (check out her extremely popular feature here.)

If you’re interested, here’s how it will work:

On the first of every month, I’ll post a speculative fiction prompt from Pixabay. These images are attribution free so you can use them on your blog without worrying about copyright restrictions.

Throughout the month, I’ll reblog your prompt-inspired stories, poems, reflections, writing. And on the last day of each month, I’ll share a complete round-up of all contributions with links to the original posts. Visiting the blogs of participants is a great way to meet other…

View original post 94 more words