Stephanie Bennett-Henry – Hope, dashed
Jan Malique spins a brief cautionary tale of GPS.
Image: Kat Myrman
Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tale challenge had me thinking hard about what to unleash on the blogosphere. It was a hard decision but here’s my offering. A sad tale of misunderstandings.
What do you mean the GPS gave the wrong directions!
Look, those are the co-ordinates.
We’re in a sewer, and something’s touching my tentacles.
Just be thankful we didn’t go into a black hole.
We did. You should have checked the map beforehand.
There was no need.
Are we there yet?
Nicole Lyons’ new book is getting well reviewed (of course)
I would like to give huge thank you, and a big shout out, to the badass writers who read an advance copy of Blossom and Bone and wrote some pretty wicked reviews, I’m truly honoured and so very happy they liked the book, and I encourage you all to check out their work, their websites, and spend some time getting to know each of them if you don’t already. I am a huge fan of all of their work and I know you guys will be too.
Blossom and Bone release date: Sept 9, 2018
Praise For Blossom and Bone
“A beautifully crafted work of art that will punch you in the face with its gritty realism before soothing your wounds with elegant prose, thought provoking lines, and sublime imagery.”
–Samuel Decker Thompson, Author of Our Fucked Up Hearts
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LuckyOtter – When the boss is a narcissist
In late 2004, I was hired as a cashier at a local convenience store. My boss, John, was a flamboyantly gay man around my age who seemed fond of me at first. He was friendly and likeable in a way that didn’t intimidate me (because of my social phobia and severe shyness). We often worked alone together, and because he spent most of the time talking my ear off, I wasn’t required to add much to the conversation. I was his captive audience when we weren’t serving customers. John was bright and I found his one-sided monologues interesting if sometimes a little strange.
I’d hear everything about John’s exciting life, from his four Shar-Pei’s antics (he was a huge dog lover) to his once-a-month visits to the spa for regular colonic irrigations–he discussed these publicly, in the most intimate detail, even with customers–as if he was talking about what he…
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From Jan Malique – a Flash Fiction Poem
Charli has provided us with a truly uplifting and exciting prompt for this week’s August flash-fiction challenge.
August 23, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes magic. It can be a supernatural force, a moment or idea, or use it as a verb. Go where the prompt leads.
Respond by August 28, 2018. Rules & Guidelines.
I love weaving magical tales and notice a little light in the forests of the imagination…
Soft, soft are their feet upon the forest floor
Hear their whispers lift on perfumed breeze
The Crystal Sentinels wait
Offer messages only once
Offer wisdom never seen
Hark, the Fey do come
The Light of Ever Becoming approaches
Issues through sky and earth
Infuses Crystal Sentinels
Weaves magic most powerful
Weaves magic neither light nor dark
Hark, the do Fey come
See the Faerie Queen step forth
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Jan Malique – Dream of gods and fools
I had a dream, o what wondrous things emerge in our travels through other realms!
Apologies, I digress. I had a dream several days ago in which the Great Bull and Minoan Snake Goddess appeared, although not in the forms expected. Their energies had been present in other ways, gently nudging me, reminding the need to focus on important issues. They also lit the flame of inspiration and what writer can resist the lure laid out by their Muses? Saying that, His Nibs (Anubis), Horus and Sekhmet (my beloved Lady of the Flame and Red Linen) urge caution.
The Fool of the tarot wanders into territory deemed dangerous and life-changing, and also symbolises the start and end of a journey. One could say the Fool is Pure Matter, from which all else arises and is transformed. Their journey is circular, much like the shape of the Ouroboros, the…
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Calico Jack – A dishonorable man cannot understand an honorable man, and so lashes out.
Senator John McCain passed at age 81 yesterday. The entire nation and world grieves a man of his accomplishments and contributions. The media of all stripes are filled with obituaries, remembrances, and memorials of the man. And then, of course, there is the reaction of the Ol’ Pussy Grabber as he gently sniffs the piss that the pee-hookers have left puddling on the Resolute Desk, American values, and John McCain’s head.
There four tributes that I want to highlight before interpreting the “special” sentiment that the Ol’ Pussy Grabber had for Senator McCain.
Standing Up To Racists
First is that time when Senator McCain was the Republican nominee for president and he stopped a racist supporter from declaring Barack Obama an Arab. You know she woulda gone on to say Muslim from Kenya, but McCain in a refreshing dose of human decency cut her off…
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Beth Caplin – Broke (or close to it) but not broken, and lessons learned.
When I first converted, one thing I immediately noticed was how common it is for Christians to praise God for every good thing that happens in their lives, even if it happened as a result of human actions. God was praised for giving someone a job, even though they took the time to apply and show up for the interview. God was praised for healing cancer, even though the patient endured rounds of chemotherapy.
I don’t want to say that God couldn’t be responsible for those things. I believe every good thing in this life is ultimately from him. But after watching my father slowly die of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and my husband struggle to find a job after being unexpectedly laid off, our savings draining away month after month, my mind can’t help but think of everyone who wasn’t so lucky. Doesn’t God care about them?
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Calico Jack creates a meme
As the Ol’ Pussy Grabber rapes and pillages our great country by dividing us with harsh hateful, and harmful rhetoric demagoguing everything and everyone from immigrants to flipping flippers to professional black athletes, every now and again someone on the political landscape reminds us what true leadership is all about. That brave people who actually have values that they hold dearer than the offices they aspire to can make a difference.
The other day a four minute video of Democratic candidate for the Senate, Beto O’Rourke, was asked him how disrespectful it is to have the NFL players kneeling in the national anthem. I got the feeling that the choices were (a) a lot, (b) fire ’em all, or (c) hang ’em from the highest branch. Beto’s answer may have surprised the questioner, but judging from the wild cheering, though, not his audience.
He gives two answers — surprise, they…
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Jan Malique – The remains of lost love
Hopefully I should get back to reading and commenting on people’s posts over the weekend. It feels like I’ve been away for ages! The spirit isn’t fully reinvigorated but I’m working on it.
As for this post, it’s my take on lost love and bittersweet memories, so this isn’t going to be a saccharine offering. I enjoyed creating its dark moods though, wasn’t sure whether it would work as a poem.
Feather light kisses and trailing fingers,
His tearfilled darkness gazes yearningly,
Entreats her ‘stay,’
Breathes in her perfume,
Prolongs their meeting.
Does their love lie scorched?
Like his burned letters,
Smouldering quietly in no man’s land,
Staining skin and errant memories.
Fevered kisses slide furtively,
Desperate whispers huddle in secret places.
Years slide by,
Perch precariously on rocky outcrops,
Bleed ruby petals,
Where is their love now?
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