Well…I planned to have another installment of Elf Magic ready for today.
Didn’t quite pan out. 😉
Instead, I scheduled a few posts, updated my nook, rummaged around Facebook, grabbed another book to review, updated stuff on Goodreads (see Charon’s Dilemma, my free read I published with Goodreads MM Romance Group), and posted a review on my blog. There’s also work, backing up my personal computer because I’ve read about the horror stories on Faceback with losing your WIPs and writings. I’m in IT, so I know better anyway. Luckily, Dropbox or Google Drive is your friend. Evernote too. And, multiple redundant backup solutions. 🙂
I will have to see if I can post another installment this weekend. However, being on call for work will either prevent or promote this endeavor. *grin*
Now, I’m going to be really geeky and play a computer game…
So, I managed to write some. Just a little while ago. 🙂 Maybe I’ll get it done BEFORE the post date next week. We’ll see.
It’s not very long but I hope that the Muses will come out and play with me more later and I get a longer piece in. As always, it is unedited and may have grammar and spelling mistakes.
Aeona sat at her vanity and saw the change come over her in a slow wave. She yelped loud enough that her lady in waiting, since all Royal daughters had them, ran in asking what is wrong.
“Lady Aeona, what’s the matter? What’s wrong?” Her short, dearly loved, servant Iona stopped breathless beside her.
“I-I-“ Aeona stuttered as she saw the changes in the mirror, her face and body morphing as she sat there in her night clothes. She could feel herself become more masculine: sharper cheekbones, a little more square around the face, and…her breasts reducing to a man’s pectorals. She had actually seen those once when she was near the local watering hole while one of the house servants bathed in the water. She had received an education that included biology of both sexes, but this seemed strange even for her.
Iona looked at the mirror, then at Aeona, questioning in her eyes.
“What do you see, dearie? You look just fine.”
“Iona…I see myself changing to a masculine form,” Aeona replied hesitantly, wondering if she was losing her mind like her father. No. He was still sane, just grief stricken. He couldn’t be anything else. She had to be strong for both of them.
“I don’t understand, my dear,” Iona now looked confused. “You look just as you did this morning…”
Aeona stood up abruptly, pain searing through her. She convulsed and fell to the flow barely avoiding hitting here head against the chair on the way down. Iona made a cry of surprise and anguish of her own and went to her only to see her disappear before she could reach her.
“Oh…Oh…Magic is afoot. Sire is not going to like this.” Iona picked up her skirts, turned around and ran back through the door yelling for anyone to let her know where His Majesty to report that Aeona, his beloved daughter, was missing with magic.
Aeona woke up slowly, pain receding but lingering as she took stock in her figure. Her night gown was a little rumpled but covered her, she thought. Although, it was a little snug this time. The body she had lived with for 25 years…that was a different matter.
Her coppery hair, the same length as before, appeared on soft bed she found herself on, along with the copper-tinged skin she remembered from when she was young. Memories she showing her in a different state started to intrude but she held them off while she finished taking stock of her body. Instead of a small chest with pert boobs that she always hoped that would group larger and never did, were gone. Instead she had a broader chest with similarly small pectorals, slim hips were she had wider hips before… and more.
“Oh my,” Aeona started at the slightly deeper voice as she stared at the junction of her thighs. Instead of folds and her pleasure button, she had a long and thin penis with balls that hung lower than she was used to seeing. Granted, she had not seen a lot of men’s genitals but there were paintings, mirrors, and magic means of gathering information. She giggled a bit, then frowned when it didn’t sound quite right. She looked around the room, noticing the tasteful decorations, dresser, nightstands, and other furniture for an unfamiliar guest room but nothing to tell her where she was or what had happened that she was no longer in her room in the Royal castle. Other than the slight headache, the pain receded enough that she thought she would be fine in a few minutes.
Well, as fine as she could be with a gender she wasn’t used to. A niggling sensation gave her pause like she was supposed to know more than she did.
“What is going on?” Aeona asked herself not expecting an answer since she did not see anyone in the room upon waking.
“Hello, Aeon, my son,” a deep voice boomed next to her.
The voice scared her so bad she felt herself against the wall with no knowledge of how she got there. Then she looked down and realized she was hovering over the bed against the wall. Levitating. She squeaked again, although that sound not coming out right and fell to the bed again, her back against the headboard, trembling and valiantly trying to pull herself together. Too many shocks do not make an Aeona happy. Then she caught up with what the deep voice said, “Aeon? Son? But… my name is Aeona and I’m…” Aeona suddenly stopped as the memories she had held back previously suddenly flooded her consciousness.
She remembered playing with children in all shapes and sizes and with adults who were tall, willowy, and had pointed ears. Absently, she reached up to feel her ears and felt a point that wasn’t there before. Memories continues to reveal a childhood of playing but not as a girl, but as a boy. Same coppery hair and skin, but with all of the bits she found herself with now, just on a smaller scale. Then she felt a presence within her mind, soothing, helping her understand everything. Joy. Sorrow. Love.
“Father?” Aeona, and she guessed she would have to call herself “he” now, but she would think about that later once she had her questions answered. “How…who? I still don’t understand.” She looked at the tall man in front, who had cradle her to his chest dressed in royal elf colors of green, brown and gold. Elves, she was in the presence of an Elf. And not just any elf, but Elvan himself. King of the Elvanwood elf kingdom that bordered along Lothohammer. He had long white hair, pointed ears of the elf race, and violet eyes. Just like her own.
“Once your mother had passed your gaes was lifted. It was supposed to return slowly to get you used to the new information, but that didn’t happened. When the magic returned it, it returned with a vengeance and your magic must have brought you here to your old room as a safety net.
“I have magic,’ Aeona stated.
“You are magic, my son,” King Elvan smiled.
AFTERLIFE OF ALANNA MILLER
(Book Three in the Nightmares Trilogy)
By Demelza Carlton
Genre: Mystery Thriller
Purchase from Amazon
Trailer for Afterlife
“Seriously, what the hell is this, mate?”
Navid swallowed his huge mouthful of pie. “What do you mean?”
“This!” I shook the letter at him. “Is ASIO trying to buy my silence or what?”
Navid took the letter, held it at arm’s length and squinted at it. Looked like he needed reading glasses. Was he really getting that old? He passed the paper back to me. “It’s not a bad sum for not telling a story you’re not going to talk about anyway. I’d take it and book a nice holiday with it, if I were single like you. You could spend a month touring in the US or Europe for that, including flights.”
“But I can’t take a holiday if you need me as a witness in the inquiry. Have they finally set a date yet? It’s weird, getting offered money for silence before the hearings. Is this because there’ll be press coverage on the inquiry into that bastard Mott? And they want to make sure we won’t talk to the press?”
Navid stared at something in the distance. “No, no one’s set a date for the inquiry.”
“So why now?” I persisted. “Why are they throwing money at me? It’s Caitlin they have to worry about, and this is nowhere near as much money as the TV stations or magazines offer. I don’t see her agreeing to take ten grand to keep quiet. Not when she can get a hundred times that for an exclusive.”
Navid coughed. “I think they’ll be offering her a lot more than that. After all, she’s the one who almost died.”
“So it’s not just hush money? It’s compensation for damages suffered and…all the other shit it says in the letter? What about my sister? What about Alanna? Did she get a posthumous payout, too? And a hypocritical letter saying the department deeply regrets her kidnapping, rape, torture and death, but here’s some money to make it feel better? Shit, if Caitlin’s letter says that, expect fireworks.” My heart ached at just the sound of her name. I’d give anything to see her explode. I’d know she was alive and okay, wherever she was.
He lowered his voice. “If they can find her. There’s a rumour in the department that all the documents in her file are gone. Papers, digital, recordings of statements…everything, just gone. And the details of her witness protection arrangements, too, so that means she’s disappeared.”
I stared at him in shock, silence money forgotten. “You don’t know where she is? She could be dead or hurt or God knows what! You have to find her! She’ll need to give evidence at the inquiry, too. I mean, she nearly died because of him.” And I’d get to see her if she came for the inquiry, even if I had to camp outside the building. I’d know she was alive and okay, even if only for a moment. “Ask him where she is. He’ll know.”
“She was never going to be part of the inquiry. She didn’t have any contact with him beforehand and her statements will be enough, or they would have been, if we could find them. Now, I don’t even know if there’ll be an inquiry at all.” He sighed and lobbed his empty pie bag into the nearest bin.
I stopped dead. “What do you mean, no inquiry? I get paid off to shut up while that dickhead gets off scot-free? Fuck that.”
Navid sighed. “The justice system isn’t geared toward punishing dead people.”
“Yeah, which leaves Mott, seeing as everyone else is dead. Wait, hang on…are you saying he’s dead, too?” My mouth hung open. “Who killed him? Whoever did it’s a legend and I owe him a carton of beer. I’ve wanted to do it for years!”
Navid coughed out a laugh. “Then you owe Mott a carton of beer, because the official report says he killed himself. With an ornamental dagger, no less. Bit melodramatic, if you ask me.”
I found myself shaking my head. “That can’t be right. Mott was a mean bastard. He’d never do the world a favour and off himself. And if he did, he’d take people with him, or at least set someone up for his murder, so he could laugh all the way to hell. Who do you suspect?”
Navid shrugged. “Well, how many people hated him? It could be anyone.”
Caitlin was good with a knife, I thought idly, not willing to believe it was her. If anyone deserved to be on the point of her blade, it was him. His negligence…his indifference to what she might suffer had almost gotten her killed.
“Look, I got to get back to work. They’ve got Michael and me looking for her. One girl in twenty million people, if she’s even still in the country. The guys in Canberra want this whole affair over and done with as quickly as possible, so we got pulled off other projects to look for a girl who doesn’t want to be found.” He laughed, but sobered quickly. “Hey, she never mentioned anything to you, did she? About where she was headed, or the new name she’d be using? I remember the day Mott told her about the arrangements. She was really pissed off about them. Wish I’d asked her then.”
I shook my head. “If she’d told me anything, I’d have given in and started hunting for her long before now. I’d change my name and go into hiding, too, if I had to.” His words started to sink in. “Hang on. She never met Mott. He visited her in hospital when she was unconscious, but never afterwards. I’d never have let that bastard anywhere near her!”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “She spoke to me privately when you weren’t around, requesting a meeting with your superior. I made the arrangements and I drove her to the office and home again for both meetings. She spotted some inconsistencies in what he said, and told me she suspected he was corrupt. I dismissed it at first, figuring she was just a teenage kid with on overactive imagination, but some of the things she said rang some pretty loud alarm bells. Then I started to see him make mistakes, too. It took me four years to get enough evidence together to warrant an enquiry, and now he’s dead, so we’ll never know why he did it, or what else he knew.” He laughed quietly. “I wonder if she knew. I’d love to ask her now.”
I hesitated, then ploughed ahead anyway. “If you find her, can you tell me? I just want to know that she’s okay. It’s killing me, not knowing.”
He shook his head and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Nathan, you know I can’t do that. She’s in witness protection for a reason, even if the official five years are up and she can let up on the secrecy now. She’s not the sort to go splashing her photo on every social media channel she can find just because she can.” He inhaled sharply, considering. “I’ll tell you what. If we do find her and I get a chance to speak to her, I’ll tell her that you wanted to know she was okay, and that you’d love to talk to her, but only if that’s what she wants. It’s not like you offered to go into hiding with her.”
“I would have if she’d asked me, or even wanted me,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
Nightmares Of Caitlyn Lockyer
Purchase FREE on Amazon
Necessary Evil Of Nathan Miller
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This is the first review for Moonbeams over Atlanta for 2015! Welcome everyone. I’m going to attempt to review more, write more, and blog more. Just more. 🙂 Life is settling again, I have a job, and the urge to write is increasing. Started a blog story on my blog, so we’ll see if the creative juices get flowing. Check out the first part of my story, Elf Magic, that I will be posting once a week (sorta) until I finish it. You can find all of the parts under Writings | Elf Magic from the blog’s home page. 🙂
Rue provided me the story for an honest review last year when I was having all the crazy in Real Life™ issues last year. I’m just now getting this posted. Thank you for the opportunity. I really liked it.
Rue is a new author for me and only recently have I gotten into Lesbian (FF) stories. I enjoy reading just about anything. There are a few genres I can’t do but reading the GBLTQ spectrum, including mainstream MF, is my favorite. This one has multiple loves and that is how it should be. We all want love and this tale provides in spades.
“It’s Not My Favorite” is a story of two sisters, one lesbian and one heterosexual. The point of view changes between them so you are getting both of their stories as they interact. I like changing points of view, but not everyone does. In this case, Rue weaves the story so well that you really don’t notice that you are changing. There are certain places that it was a little abrupt, but it couldn’t be helped. It made you think. It made you cry. It made you laugh. It made you want to reach into the book and throttle their mother. Realistic descriptions of living in a contemporary setting is the backdrop to extreme emotions, self discovery for both sisters, and travel to overseas locale. The detail is amazing and the story makes you contemplate your own life. I appreciate my life after reading this book since some of the detail rings too much like truth to not be based on parts of the writer’s life. It resonates with you well past when you put the book down.
Cheers to you, Rue. I give It’s Not My Favorite 4 stars. I eagerly await the new one in the series as I know that I won’t be disappointed. Stay tuned for a review on book two of the Lake Effect series!
The Hutchinson sisters grew up under the piercing, pious stare of a preacher’s wife. Plagued by her ever-disappointed refrain, “Well, it’s not my favorite.” Their search to find their own way in the world has not been a screaming success.
Gwenn is a good girl, a responsible girl… a miserable girl. Her steady diet of vivid fantasies is the only part of her life she enjoys. She daydreams of new parents, a more exciting job and an actual love life. She struggles to run a business as The Organizer, while she stacks relationship carcasses in the closet of her own completely unorganized life. Her only real friend is her younger sister, Rachel.
Rachel is outgoing, risqué and happily gay. The only people who don’t know this little secret are her judgmental parents, Pastor Ed and Shirley. Rachel struggles mightily to dodge her mother’s constant attempts to set her up with “nice Christian boys”; while holding down a job at the bakery and keeping up with her rock-star girlfriend!
Gwenn uncovers a photo that brings her imaginary world careening into reality. She’s forced to ask herself if wealthy artist, Daniel Gregory is the answer she’s been seeking or a grand delusion.
Break-ups, meltdowns, family secrets, wild nights and finally a journey of self-discovery to exotic New Zealand keep Gwenn and Rachel stumbling toward independence.
So grab your parka and join the Hutchinson girls, as they experience the Lake Effect in Duluth, Minnesota!
Rue developed a wicked sense of humor in order to survive the many heavens and vast hells of childhood. Her intimate knowledge of the Midwest, the inordinate amount of time she spent in its churches’ pews and her unique parentage make her an expert on life after religion. Having moved 17 times by the time she graduated from high school Rue has seen more than her share of the Great Plains. Her parents frequented the hallowed halls of a variety of Christian churches and Rue had the opportunity to deconstruct religion, and the religious, from the inside out. She never stayed in one place long enough to make human friends. Her best friends were all characters from her beloved books; and the love of reading led to a lifelong passion for writing.
Rue wrote her first manifesto at age three; a letter begging her grandfather to stop smoking; to the small pink piece of stationary, she taped two dimes and a nickel—his reward for quitting. The entreaty was successful and the power of the pen was instilled in her soul. Throughout her life she has written unceasingly, journals, poems, short stories, screenplays and articles for newspaper and magazine. Her love of ink led her to pursue a B.A. in Journalism from Pepperdine University in California. She also suffers from a slight obsession with office supplies—mostly pens and fine paper.
Rue plans to write until she can no longer hold a pen, press down keys or speak to dictation software; the plan is to die writing, at the ripe old age of 120. She has already amassed two lifetimes of experience. Rue has been working for more than 30 years and has done everything from make dirt to direct an independent film school. The number of characters that can be scooped out of the detritus is staggering.
The pen is truly mightier than the sword.
I know I said I was going to post a new installment of Elf Magic last Friday, but…obviously, that didn’t happen. 🙂
Sorry about that.
It’s been a crazy week between work, family, and not feeling the story. *sigh*
It happens. Every author gets ‘writer’s block’ at least once in their career. I’m no different. Hopefully, some inspiration will come my way and I’ll try for this Friday.
Thanks for following.
As promised, this is the start of a story I started 2 years ago but have not finished. A little latter than I thought but I’ve been enjoying my holiday and finally sat down to my computer. I figured, as a New Year’s resolution to write more, I should just post a story and see if I can finish it. 🙂
Please let me know how you like it and if you would like to see more. Inspirations from readers are always welcome as I have not actually finished parts of this. Note that this story will have grammar issues, misspellings, and has not been edited. I’ve done some editing but not a lot. 🙂 I plan on posting once a week, maybe more depending on interest and whether my characters talk fast enough. This is probably only going to be a short story and I’m not sure on chapters. Perhaps it will develop into more, or even a series. Not sure yet. Depends upon the Muses and time.
This was inspired by the Grimm’s fairy tale: Cat-Skin for an anthology of twisted male-male fairy tale stories that never happened. I’ve informed the maker of that anthology that I was probably going to publish on my own. Here is the start. Sorry it’s a little short. This particular story was written in pieces and not in order. I hope inspiration will come and I can fill in the parts missing.
Cyma (yes, you) for the initial inspiration and Wando from G+ who helped me with the name Lothohammer, the Human kingdom’s name.
Tags: MM, Romance, Fairy, Magic, Royalty, Kingdoms
“Come here, my love,” Queen Bea said in a thready voice. Sire slowly walked over to his wife, her Royal Majesty of all Lothohammer. She had ruled by his side for 25 years, but now, barely could she lift her hand as she beckoned him closer to her bed side. It had been a marriage of state since he was the heir to his father, King Alum. His family had been ruling the human kingdom Lothohammer for centuries since the elves and the humans had signed the peace treaty in his great-great grandfather’s day after much strife between Lothohammer and the elven kingdom of Elvanwood. Considering they were nearby to each other, it was a good thing to keep the peace. Magic was very much a part of the world, but nothing could be done for the wasting sickness that was killing his Queen.
He reached for her and took her thin hand gently in his left and brushed her beautiful copper hair with his right lightly, saddened that he could not help her now. While it was a marriage of convenience, he had grown to love her as a friend and confidant. She’d had known from the very first that his taste was not towards her. In fact, she had understood that his taste was not toward women in general. It was a secret she had kept for him all these years. They had their one miracle, a daughter, who looked just like her mother, and that was that.
“What is it you want, my dear?” Sire returned from his sad thoughts at the light squeeze of her fingers. He bent closer to her.
“I have something to tell you,” She breathed softly to him. Her face grimaced in pain briefly. “I have seen you with another with long copper hair. Do not marry again unless you marry the one with copper hair. You will have your heart’s desire.” Her breathe hitched with the last of the words, she coughed violently, and finally caught her breathe long enough to say, “I’m so very tired, love. Find the one with the copper hair and more will be revealed. I am ready. Remember–” With a violent shudder, she seized.
Sire held her against his chest, bracing her in her final moments. He murmured to her as the seizure took her away. Once limp, he closed her eyes for the final time, laid her back down, and kissed her forehead good bye. He allowed himself a mere few moments to grieve and then visibly pulled himself together. “Please put together the announcement that the Queen has left this world. I hope that her next one will be better.” Sire turned to the attendant that seemed to never leave his side to ensure his orders were carried out. His right-hand man, with tears streaming down his face, nodded once, bowed to Sire, and left the room to begin this process of informing all of Lothohammer, and beyond, that they had lost their Queen.
The entire kingdom mourned for a fortnight as she was much beloved. While everyone knew of the Queen’s illness, it was still a shock that she was gone. Because her last words had a ring of prophecy, they were written down to be reviewed at a later time. After the official mourning ended, Sire continued to mourn Bea privately and soon was spiraling into a depression that none of his court, advisers, or even his daughter could pull him out. Soon, others noticed the long walks their King would take in the village close to the castle, that he was just moving with blank eyes. King Sire had been ruling their country for a number of years, most of it with Bea. The whole court could do nothing. Some advisers remembered that same prophecy and started looking for the person Bea had foreseen; another woman with long copper hair.
A search was done far and wide for females with long copper hair. None could be found. Except for their daughter, Aeona. She, like her mother, had long copper hair, smooth, slightly dark skin, and a slender build with barely-there hips and long legs. The only difference was her bright purple eyes, eyes that did not match Sire or Bea. Mutterings of changelings and baby snatching had long dodged Aeona, Sire and Bea over the years since Aeona’s birth 25 years prior. They ignored it for the most part. For a while, the kingdom settled down and accepted that their princess had different eyes. Until the day the Queen had passed, and the prophecy revealed, then the mutterings resumed as some were wont to do.
Aeona herself heard these mutterings and despaired that her father would come back to her. She didn’t know what to do. There were things that were locked in her mind that were slowly coming back to her as the days passed since her mother had left this world. The first was that she was not all that she seemed. The second was that were more, rather large secrets, to come. She was even more frightened by this because the one person she could go to was no longer around. She couldn’t go to her father because a lot of the secrets, she knew, were directly related to him even though she didn’t know what they were yet. She didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already was hurt.