Wednesday, August 31, 2016

3 unexpected Reviews!

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/reviews/the-family-pool-lyz-russo/1123735801

The Family Pool
Available for download at Smashwords:

Reviewed by for Readers' Favorite

Mary Jenkinson’s marriage to John Adams was more than she bargained for. The Family Pool by Lyz Russo is an excellent short story of family drama, mystery, and intrigue. Mary found out that once you married into the Adams family, all that glittered was not gold. Even though John appeared to be the man of her dreams, his family legacy held a deep dark secret. On the outside the family possessed wealth, but on the inside there were rules and regulations that all family members obeyed in order to maintain their lifestyles. The family ruler and patriarch, Uncle Daniel, called all the shots in the family, from where the members would live to that of the in-laws. Mary reveals to the family, by mistake, that she's pregnant and begins to wonder upon this announcement what all the whispers and disdain are about. What Mary did not realize is that by her being pregnant she was violating the family's laws of order.

I enjoyed reading The Family Pool by Lyz Russo because not only was it a great story, but Lyz was able to deliver the story, plot, and ending all within this short read. If Alfred Hitchcock was alive, I believe that The Family Pool by Lyz Russo would be one of the stories that he would chose for his mini movie series collections. If you do not like the original ending, Lyz has offered an alternative ending that you may enjoy. I personally liked the original ending because it added an element of suspense to the story. However, the alternative ending can be used as a sequel. If you like family drama, mystery, and suspense tales, get a copy of The Family Pool by Lyz Russo. I am sure that you will enjoy it.






The Mystery of the Solar Wind:


The Mystery of the Solar Wind by Lyz Russo
Available at Smashwords

by
30816443
Roughseasinthemed's review
Aug 27, 2016

really liked it

I really enjoyed this imaginative, creative, futuristic pirate story. But it's so much more than just a pirate story: dark governmental controlling forces, relationships, genetics, and a total sense of adventure. Russo's characters are great and totally credible. I was surprised how long it was, and there were very few errors for such a long book, so I just dove right in and enjoyed the ride, or, sail.





The Assassin:


The Assassin by Lyz Russo
Available on Smashwords

by
30816443
Roughseasinthemed's review
Aug 27, 2016

really liked it

This was a fantastic sequel to The Mystery of the Solar Wind. Action-packed may be a cliché but this book was full of action, emotion and nail-biting moments. Loved it from start to finish. Our favourite characters develop more, and happy endings for good people don't always win out so there is gritty realism.

Why not five stars? Well, if you are going to write in Spanish, it's a good idea to get it right. There were errors. And, there was some repetitive phrasing that should have been tightened up. And some silly little proofing errors. Understandable in a long book. Also, I got lost with the assassination targets. The numbers seemed to change. What happened to the ones in Hong Kong?

Otherwise, it was a top notch read, recommended. 


:-)

What did happen in Hong Kong?


Now we’ve got him,” said Sandringham. “Locate that signal!” He punched a few coordinates into his hand-held console.
Bad publicity for us though,” replied Fu. “The man is clever.”
Genevieve smiled sweetly. “We don’t need publicity.”
He’s outsmarted himself this time,” said Reverend Smithler. “We know where he is now.”
Who is he anyway?” asked Genevieve. She was the youngest of the Inner Circle. The youngest – but one of the smartest, thought Fu. The stepdaughter of the Reverend. She came up with ideas that even the Inner Circle found cruel! She was also highly active in the Eradication Squad. Fu didn’t trust her too much. One of those. He also wondered if she didn’t already know the answers to each question she asked – if everything she did was a front. But the Reverend had sponsored her – so she was in.
This man who keeps breaking our forces! Think he’s dangerous?”
As hell,” replied Sandringham. “Radomir Lascek. Old pirate. But he’s become blasé. We’ve got him now. Thought he could con the whole Unicate.”

Genevieve eyed Sandringham, running a pink tongue over her well-pampered pink lips. He thought Radomir Lascek was the threat! These little clubs the old men had were amusing; it was fascinating just how ridiculously wrong they could be about the facts.
The door opened. Genevieve glanced – and realized her error. A semiautomatic discharged a single burst of four bullets. Around her, the three men collapsed to the floor, lifeless. As her own life leaked away, she acknowledged every last mistake she had made.
Number one. She had let him get away out of the garden. Number two. She had followed him and his bonded double instead of quietly making a dash for terminating them, by any means, even ordinary means, in the grasslands. Her native curiosity had prevented her from taking action. Number three. She had thought him amusing – underestimated the Bane. The old legend was true! She had failed to trigger the Clans in the Hub, out of pride. Number four. She had failed to alert the entire Unicate the second he had stolen the Peeping Tom. Out of fear, by then. And the worst mistake of them all: Number Five. She had told nobody that he was on the prowl. They might have protected her.
This body was finished. She sighed. She’d have to wait. This was taxing.

Federi pocketed his gun and glanced guiltily at his young partner-in-crime.
That was it,” he said. “End of Federi’s list!”
Paean stared at the four fresh corpses. Their souls hadn’t understood yet. She glanced at Federi. Hell, he didn’t look good! His face was grey.
Hate terminating girls,” he said, studying that young woman on the ground. Paean peered at her. She looked a bit familiar. “She was one of those… others, those sharp ones, added the Assassin. “Like Anya Miller. And that Dahlia. This one’s bin following us since Miami. We lost her when we stole the Peeping Tom.”
Gosh,” emitted Paean, shocked. So that was why he’d been so badly on edge there in the Hub?
There’s something about them,” added Federi. “I don’t understand it. The rest of them are – window dressing. Unnecessary killings.”
Innocents?”
No, not exactly. Filthy criminals, dictators and so on, murderers like that creature in Honolulu… but…”
She gazed at him, his transparent brave face… 
The day I understand it,” he said, “Federi can give the Unicate another shot. Meanwhile…”
She shook her head. “No more killings for you,” she said decisively. Federi laughed softly.
Then how am I supposed to keep you safe, starshine?”
With the sleeping virus,” she replied.
Federi sighed. “All this was terribly bad for you!”
I’ll be fine, Federi. And you?”
Sure. We’ve cleared the path for Captain, little songbird. But…”
It was hard to explain. His mission was accomplished. But he knew he hadn’t achieved what he had personally set out to do. The Unicate was still the Unicate. He hoped that Captain’s political take-over would be enough to ease up living conditions for most people on Earth. That the eradication program was averted – that stood to reason; they had killed the military leadership. Those were the guys who thought in bombs. He doubted that someone like Genevieve, or Dahlia…
Radioactivity in Nemiscau? And then, that Hub… Hub of what? He reached for Paean’s hand and turned away from the scene of the crime.
 
Hours later when the maidservant came in with the first light to open the curtains, she found three dead officials on the floor.

*


Friday, August 26, 2016

Whoops!

So here I was, faithfully blogging along, and suddenly a WordPress Admin notices one of my posts and decides it's worthy of being discovered.

It's my "why I can't implement Marie Kondo's method completely no matter how totally brilliant it is" post, my "I have a messy house and here is why" post, my "I'm a hopeless sentimentalist and so are my kids" post.  I don't blog stuff like that here, because it has nothing to do with my writing, publishing and belly-aching journey.

LOL, I ought to somehow harness all those views!  Views, beautiful views...  I'm staggered how many come and look.  Click-through rate:  It depends to where.  My WP blog has many outbound links. One of them is even to here.

Funnily enough, none of those "likes" thought of helping themselves to the coupons of three key books - until 30 August:  100% discount on Solar Wind 3, 4, and Arcana.

Here they are:



Smashwords book coupons: (All valid until 30 August only)

Blank bookcover with clipping path
RW100 - When purchasing this book, enter the coupon code "RW100" to receive 100% discount.



   raidersmlfront

Raider!

CF73X - When purchasing this book, enter the coupon code "CF73X" to receive 100% discount.





arcana-jpg

Arcana

LJ36P - When purchasing this book, enter the coupon code "LJ36P" to get a 100% discount.

Enjoy!

Thursday, August 11, 2016

New Shortstories on Smashwords

Sometimes one needs time.  Time for your mind to stop buzzing.  My head is still buzzing, but step by baby-step I'm getting my life sorted out and back on track.  The only problem is that every time I think I've ticked one item off the list, three people ask me, "Have you done this yet?" "Have you checked out that yet?"  "What's happening about... ?"  And  my mind goes right back to buzzing.

In the interim, it seems as though the writer in me leads a life separate from mine.  She just carries on.  That's really good to know.  I wish the musician & teacher in me had it as easy as that.  Anyway, so this writer-alter-ego of mine has been posting more short-stories to Smashwords and making them free.  Here they are:

Newest first:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/656753

Suzie

Rated 0/5 based on 1 reviews
On his meanderings, photojournalist Tom meets a little girl who plays alone in the park. First intrigued by her strange character, then worried for her safety, he accompanies her home, though she never allows him to follow the very last bit to her house. Then one day he misses their appointment... 
 
(Review by: J.T. (Janni) Styles on Aug. 07, 2016 : (no rating)
If you like paranormal, you will enjoy this story of a relationship between two unlikely characters, one of whom needs closure. The characters are well rounded and by the end of this story at least one of them will sit in your heart for some time after the reading.)
(review of free book)




https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/647563

How To Become A Professional Ghostwriter

Kelly has always dreamed of making her writing into a profession. The ad looks like a perfect opportunity, and she is thrilled when her call is actually answered...







The Family Pool
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/632473

Rated 5.00/5 based on 1 reviews
Mary Adams has married into money. At first this is amazing and she is overwhelmed with thankfulness; but as time goes by she begins to realize that all is not well in the wealthy family. She comes upon a creepy volume of genealogy in the library of the house that was given to her and her husband John to live in, and from there, her curiosity turns into an obsession to get to the bottom of it.





https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/630897

The Racing Finn

(Short Story.)

Finnegan o'Flannagan (Finn) is an out-of-luck musician in the tiny town of Kilkee. The last thing he knows is how to race a horse; but this is exactly what he is requested to do, by his pretty and forceful young friend, the Lady Millen. Who can deny her?

A bit of slapstick to entertain you on a rainy day...



These stories are all FREE, and you'll find them lumped together at this link:

Shortstory collection

Enjoy!



Saturday, June 11, 2016

"Freedom Fighter" : A 4.5-star review by Silver Threading

Thank you, Colleen from Silver Threading, for this gorgeous review of "Freedom Fighter", the third in the Solar Wind series. 


 

Colleen focuses her review on the teenage relationships in the story, which are very much at the forefront of "Freedom Fighter", inbetween freak waves, terrorist attacks and flying UFOs. I'm so happy she is enjoying the series!



Here's the link:




https://silverthreading.com/2016/06/11/silvers-book-reviews-freedom-fighter-solar-wind-3-by-lyz-russo/

 I have to tell you all, I am hopelessly in love with this series. The characters have found their way into my heart. I feel pained every time I come to the end of another exciting installment because I want to know more! I think I must have some gypsy blood running through my veins!

   

What happens next? I’m dying to find out!  

Freedom Fighter finds Captain Radomir Lascek up to his neck in negotiations with the Unicate and other warring factions as he tries to carve out a peaceful treaty to the new world order that has taken over the earth. So much so, that he has no choice but to make his daughter, Rushka Donegal, the captain of the Solar Wind.  




           



In celebration of this review, I'm giving away a (small, I'm getting stingier) number of copies of "Freedom Fighter" at Smashwords: 


https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/619116



     Enjoy!! 



Monday, June 6, 2016

Escape from Dublin!




 
 

0 - Dublin

31 March 2116, 5:30 am

 

Running. No: Scurrying, like rats, cutting corners, slipping and scrambling through the half-dark of the dank storm drainage system of the old harbour town. Her older brother chasing her on from behind, her younger one scouting ahead, furtively checking each corner before they reached it, to make sure it was clear.
In a twisted way she was glad that she had cropped her hair short into an extreme brush cut, because the glorious red mane of curls she still had yesterday would have been in a hopeless mess by now. Her face, hands and clothes were streaked with mud, reeking of rat droppings and cat urine. She clung to her violin case and Ronan’s guitar bag, as he had more than enough to carry with his Clarsach and the heavy backpack.
Shawn, who was lugging the pipes under his arm as he peered around bends, beckoned for them to proceed. The next corner was clear. They ought to be right under the old promenade by now, and they had to be careful, because their tunnel was half visible to the streets from here, through fairly large storm drains. Dawn hadn’t finished breaking yet. Breaking what, she thought dismally. Breaking her whole life, everything she’d ever cherished. Breaking her childhood off with a deadly finality.
It had taken both Ronan and Shawney to get her pulled away from Mother’s body, her hands still covered in blood. What insanity was this? Why not leave her there, to die too when the Unicate came knocking on the door?
Lying low at Mrs Flanagan’s had been gruelling; but not as bad as spending the night down here in the drains. And as for the reaction of relatives, yesterday morning – she didn’t even want to go there. And through it all she couldn’t get the blood off her hands. What was driving her by now, was nothing but primal fear.
“Here!” Shawney’s signal was barely more than a whisper. She allowed Ronan to push past her, and found a way to hold the Clarsach for him too as he helped Shawn work on that manhole lid. They battled with it a bit. Rain and mud had sucked it into place and it was a struggle loosening it, but suddenly it lifted, and they pushed it aside.
All three waited and listened with bated breath, ready to bolt back into the depths of the storm drain system if they had to. Things seemed really silent up there. Ronan made a step ladder with his hands for Shawn, who put his foot into it and pushed himself up, peering out of the manhole.
“Coast’s clear,” he whispered down to his two sibs. Ronan boosted him up, then handed the instruments up to him. It was a tight fit for the Clarsach; but this square manhole was one they had tested before. Life for a young Dublin musician could be perilous at night.
“C’mon, Pae!” came Shawn’s optimistic invitation.
She shook her head, unable to face the scant daylight.
“Sis, we’ve been there,” said Ronan, almost threateningly.
Paean Donegal backed down and accepted the burglar-lift up to ground level from her older brother. Once she was out, she turned around and took the backpack from him. It took her and Shawn’s joint efforts to get that heavy pack lifted out.
She lay down on the pavement and extended a hand down for Ronan; Shawn did the same on the other side of the manhole. Ronan grabbed both hands at the wrist in a mountaineer’s grip and hauled himself out of the sewers, kicking against the crumbling stepladder none of them had dared to use.
All three pushed the lid back into place and stared at each other. So far so good; they were at the docks. They scanned the surrounds. Those uniforms could come breaking out of any alley, at any moment. They were not safe anywhere in plain sight.
An unkempt-looking character was idly leaning against a lamp post, watching them. It looked like a wild man, long black frizzy hair tied down around the head with a bandanna. One thing this person was decidedly not: Any kind of Unicate. There was something... he somehow looked like a sea person to Paean. On a hunch she stormed at the man.
“Sir, sir, please – are you a sailor?”
Gypsy eyes stretched wide in surprise as he took in her filthy appearance. He studied her intensely, making her wonder whether it had been a mistake talking to him at all. If he alerted the harbour guard?
“Looking for a ship to stow away?” he asked eventually with an unreadable grin.
“No, sir! We want to work! We’re hard workers, have been all our lives.” She hoped desperately he’d accept that. She was fifteen – work was only legal once you were sixteen. But he didn’t look like the type that would care.
Critical dark eyes noted the instruments.
“Musicians, huh? Shukar! This way, shey.”
“Paean, what are you doing?” hissed Shawn.
“Getting us a job,” she replied. “On a ship.”
“She’s right, Shawn, move!” urged Ronan.
The wild man led the way, along the docks to a beautiful white tall ship lying at anchor. Paean noticed that he moved like a predator; a feral cat or a burglar. But damn, the three of them didn’t exactly arrive smelling of roses, either.
The name on the side of the two-master sailing ship, she noted as they approached, was the ‘San Diego’. And the figurehead was a mermaid... its eyes seemed to follow them.
*


 

30 March 2116, 6:05 am


Loud banging on the white-painted door that was splintering with age. Louder banging. And an impatient grip on the door handle, forcing it.
The old lock gave way. The door swung inwards. The uniformed crew entered, with guns lifted high. Not stun guns; real fire. The little house was quiet. Too quiet.
They made their cautious way through the rooms, first the tight living-cum-dining room, the ridiculously short passage where three bedrooms and a bathroom connected; pushed the only closed door open, lifted their firearms -
“Check the other rooms! Check the bathroom! All the windows!” The young charge-sergeant personally looked under the bed. There was nothing; as opposed to what was on the bed.
So she was dead. He checked the pulse of the woman lying there drenched in her own blood. Accurate. Then where were the three?
“They’re not here, sir.”
Damn.

6:50 am

 

“They’re gone!”
The man in grey faced his equally grey officer’s wrath.
“How did you let them get away? They are dangerous!”
“We don’t know, Captain-Major. Technically there should have been no opportunity for them to escape. We were watching them this whole past week.”
“Find them!”
“Yes, Captain-Major!”

30 March 2116, 9:59 am

 

Tights. Toothbrush. Transmitter. Tarot deck.
The girl smoothed down her sleek black hair and threw a sidelong look at herself in the narrow hallway mirror as she left the apartment. Check. Still myself. No parsley between teeth. No beauty. No big deal. She glanced back at the empty flat she left behind; all traces of her erased, as though the only thing that had dwelt here between the last tenant and now had been time. Home? No. No such a thing. Wherever she was sent, there she went.
This assignment had her excited. She had never worked on a ship before. She almost smiled as she slunk down to the harbour.

*

31 March 2116, 5:55 am

 

Paean was standing indecisively in the hatch of a petite, minute, tiny cabin. It had everything she needed; a pull-down bunk that came out of the wall; a round porthole with blinds – those were important; and a small, squat chest for her belongings. Neo-compounding, of course. Ronan and Shawn had been assigned a similarly small cubicle, with the two bunks pulling out of the wall one above the other.
Ronan came in and unceremoniously dumped the clothes he’d packed for her, on her bunk.
“Freshen up, sis. Don’t want to present like street kids, now do we?”
She shook her head, still unfamiliar with the missing mane, and the way there were no curls to move around her shoulders but only a stark crew cut.
“Where are the bathrooms?”
He took her out of her cabin and pointed down the passage. “They call them the heads, like, on a ship, alright? We’d better wise up on the jargon, sis.”
She nodded, gathered up a fresh set of jeans and t-shirt and padded to the ‘heads’ to get cleaned up. The heavens knew, the blood she had tried to wash off her hands for a day now was bothering her a hundred times more than the foul-smelling gutter-mud.

*

January 2116:

 

Two ships converge in the twilight, six hundred sea miles off Dakar. A voice calls across from one to the other. A chorus of powerful African voices answers. The national hymn of Southern Free.
Sails are furled. The two ships slow and come to a halt next to each other. Lines shoot across. A gangway extends from the blue yacht to the white trader. Muscular sailors carry goods across: Guns, heavy artillery. Closed boxes.
White teeth flash in laughter. Lines are untied, sails unfurled, the gangway retracted. The two ships veer apart, the crew of the yacht singing loudly. A pirate flag flies from the mast of the white trader. They disappear into the twilight in opposite directions, six hundred sea miles off Dakar...

*

31 March 2116, 6:59 am

 

“Don’t know what you dragged aboard there, Federi!”
The gypsy flashed a steely grin, gazing out over the harbour. “Jon, watch these sports.” He pointed at the docks. A pointless sun was rising behind a drizzly cloud cover. A Unicate patrol emerged from the ancient, narrow roads, stepping in perfect synchrony with hair-raising precision. You only heard one single marching gait. And they were headed straight for the ship.
Jon Marsden glanced over his shoulder, at the bridge. Yes, Captain also saw that patrol. He gave Federi a nod and they undid the mooring hawsers, which spun back into their holds. Captain raised the anchor. The ship started moving innocently away from the docks, gliding on solar drives.
The patrol increased its pace. Marsden glanced at the bridge and received a go-ahead signal from his Captain. Together, he and Federi peeled the neo-membrane with the false name off the side of the ship. He glanced back to the bridge. His Captain was grinning broadly. They all three watched how shock and disbelief spread over the faces of the Unicate civic military. The ship’s sails clapped like thunder as they expanded. The Solar Wind cleared the port and moved out into the Irish Sea, picking up speed, sailing close to the wind.
*


   
This is of course the opening chapter of the Solar Wind series, available at this link:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/24238

  sw-series

Enjoy!

Monday, May 23, 2016

"You'll lose your reader to a midnight snack"

Autumnwriting gives 5 tips to a page-turning chapter.

One of them entails to skip what we have called here at P'kaboo, "shoe-lacing". Going into too-much-detail on how the main hero goes down on one knee and ties first his left, then his right shoe-laces, left-over-right, right-over-left, two loops and through, pulling them ever so slightly too tight (causing a thrombosis in his feet that will eventually kill him - nah, just kidding, I put that in to make something happen!).

So Autumnwriting suggests that if the reader needs to participate in every meal the protagonist partakes of, you'll lose your reader to a midnight snack.

Well hey! I've lost a lot of things to midnight snacks (most significantly, my figure), but never yet a reader - midnight snacks are what helps me write! But okay, okay... I know how it's meant.

 Just to illustrate the point:

In the "Shooting Star" series, Federi breaks away irretrievably from the Solar Wind (he tries this repeatedly in "The Morrigan" and more seriously in "Nix Romipen" but by commandeering the Shooting Star, he eventually succeeds).

The Solar Wind's crew feel this in a particularly bitter way. They have been robbed of their master chef; the other two crew members who were really good with food, Paean, and Mindy Adamson (we meet her in "The Morrigan"), have joined Federi and are therefore not aboard either. Galley work falls to the most unlikely suspect: The humble but somewhat creepy Lyr of Dome. Having spent hundreds of years deep beneath the ocean surface subsisting mostly on "frutti di mare", he doesn't understand the advanced palate of the twenty-second century.

Lyr tries; he really tries. Still, somehow, the crew is tough to please.  

1. Shoe-lacing Lyr's cooking skills in "The Morrigan":
Federi ground his teeth. Captain wasn’t making this easy!
What did Captain need him for? The cook was Lyr. The chars were the croaches. There were plenty of sharp assassins aboard. Ailyss, Jon... Able sailors? When last had they actually flown a storm? Quartermaster...
“ ‘s just a holiday, Captain,” he said sanguinely. “Showing Paean a few places.”

“And what does Captain say?”
“Nothing,” said Shawn with a grin. “And he also says nothing to having to eat sushi three times a day. I just can’t get the idea of cooking into Lyr’s head. Captain is in a very good mood. He keeps asking how many days to Christmas.”
“Shawn,” she asked suspiciously, “what have you done to Captain?”

Lyr cropped up in the galley door and lifted his nearly invisible eyebrows in surprise.
“I see you are making food!”
“Yup!” Paean glanced up at him and smiled. The tall gangly Atlantean smiled back, with too many irregular merrow teeth.
“But you’re not going to spoil things by cooking them,” he presumed.
“I am,” said Paean. “The crew wants a bit of a change from the whole-food diet. Come, have a seat, Lyr! Can I give you some vegetation to decapitate?”
“Vegetation has a central nervous system?” asked Lyr, puzzled. Paean laughed and pushed the potatoes his way.
“They even have eyes, sometimes,” she informed him as she picked up a peeler and showed him how to go about it. The next ten minutes, while she quickly fried up enough fish for the crew, she watched how the tall man struggled to get all the skin off that first potato he had picked up.
“Practice makes perfect,” she chirped eventually and sat down across from him, picking up more potatoes and pulling a Paean on them. Those potatoes didn’t know what was happening to them. A bit in the same line, thought Paean with a grin, as comparing Dana and Perdita playing poker.
“Captain, she made lunch,” said Lyr gravely. “She didn’t stay long though.”

2. And in "The Shooting Star":
Lyr!” Ih yoy! Bad enough Virian on the bridge; bad enough Lyr in the galley! But Lyr, holding the bridge? “Where’s Captain?”
Lyr bared his teeth, with a tired, old smile. An Atlantean smile.
Tending to husbanding duties. Poor man.”
Federi hid his urge to explode into laughter. Aliens and their inability to understand about too much information!
Husbanding? That could take a while! Meanwhile the Shooting Star was calling him, crying out to him…
Keep an eye on this one, Lyr. If he moves in a way that bothers you, eat him.”
Federi, there is a moratorium on eating humans on this ship,” said Lyr. “Not that I did previously…”
First time for everything,” replied Federi lightly and teleported out. Damn, Lyr! Show some initiative! And then he remembered. Alien as the man seemed, he was actually human.

3. Things come to a head in "Valleylon":
“Federi,” said Lyr with an ocean-deep sigh, “they did not want to eat the good, fresh food I served them, the fruit of the sea. Rhine Gold told me to make spaghetti, and I’m doing that now, and they don’t want to eat that either.”
Federi peered into the pot that was boiling away on the stove. The pasta was already quite soggy and on its way to becoming paste.
“Got to drain that,” he instructed. “How do you make your sauce?”
“Sauce?”
Federi laughed. That explained it! “Can’t give them spaghetti without sauce! Course they won’t eat that! Observe!” He dug in the fridge. Everything was – this puzzled him – exactly the way he’d last left it. Except, freshly stocked. Lyr didn’t seem to have the courage to make any changes at all.
“But Lyr, all the stuff is here! Don’t you use it?”
“I don’t know what you keep those things for,” said the Atlantean. “Whenever I look, they need to be replaced because they have rotted.”
Federi snorted. “It’s not mine, Lyr! It’s there for the crew to eat! I don’t work on this ship anymore.”
Well, whatever. It came in handy. He pulled a few tomatoes, some mince, and a number of other ingredients out of the fridge and chopped them up with a flying staccato. Thirty seconds later to it’s own surprise a bolognaise sauce was simmering on the stove, not knowing how it had got there.
“See? There! Now they’ll definitely eat that!” Federi turned from the stunned Lyr to Vlad. “Say, Vlad, there’s something strange about Monica.”
[...]
He teleported out. Lyr turned to the Solar Wind’s eye, in the corner of the galley.
“Solar Wind, please could you replay for me what he did with that sauce? Slowly?”


  I played unfair this time. The books aren't even out yet. You can find "The Morrigan" and "Nix Romipen" on Smashwords as part of the Solar Wind series (the last parts in fact), but "Shooting Star" and "Valleylon" are not yet released.

Here's the link to the series:

  sw-series    



There are some more cute little points to Autumnwriting's post:  

The number 5. That's just the perfect number. Good blogging practices dictate (and I don't like dictators so I don't) that you 1) keep your posts fairly short; 2) structure them visually; 3) start your heading with a number (5) and a "magic word" ("secrets") for a catchy heading; and the number 5 is a perfect balance. 2 hot parenting tips are barely worth more than a skim, right? Whereas 9 ways of earning cash online are a tome and will take real commitment to read. 5 is the perfect balance.


Here are for instance 5 cool parenting tips of teenagers:
  1. is essential to make the others work. Make them feel sorry for you poor overworked, over-stressed mom.
  2. Dishes: Let them each wash their own plate and cutlery, Scouts-style, after every meal. This will reduce dishes to near nothing.
  3. Clothes: Make them responsible for washing their own clothes - but you check that it actually happens. They need to sort out on Sunday what they'll be wearing for the week, and stick it through the machine. (Checking my privilege, this is for people who are not too poor to own a washing machine.)
  4. Bathrooms: It is in any case good form that each teenager knows to rinse out the basin after brushing teeth, and to scrub out the bath after use.
  5. Give them chores, then let them off the hook. That way, whenever you ask the correct kid to help you with e.g. washing up (just the pots obviously because everything else was taken care of by the each-for-themselves-system), you can remind them that actually it's their kitchen rota and they've been having an easy time of it. It saves tons of backchat!
If you can get these implemented even just 70% of the time you will feel a significant difference - and also with having resilient, clued-up kids. Clearly nobody on the Solar Wind has cottoned onto these - slaves will still be slaves!


Now shoosh and go read!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/24238

~ gipsika ~          

Monday, May 16, 2016

Southern Free


This is a bit of backstory about the lovable "anti-hero" Federi (who is actually a hero when it really matters).

"Southern Free" is a prequel of sorts to the Solar Wind series.  I've blogged this first chapter on the "Red Ant", but here it is too.

1


Sabie



“What the hell?” Police chief Dlamini stared disapprovingly at the apparition.
A young vagabond. Dlamini could tell the exact origins for every shade and nuance of Southern Frisbean that walked through the door of his police station, and this – thing here, dripping blood all over his floor, was not from here. Not from anywhere in this varied and colourful country.
His newest recruit, the pretty Nomvhulo Mafenyane, was clipping handcuffs on the creature, and Mpho was trying to extract a report out of it. Good luck – did it even speak English? He studied the scene for a moment and determined that it probably did. Not very well. One could barely make out what it was saying, so badly was it mispronouncing the words, torturing them individually.
It certainly looked dangerous. A youth, probably around sixteen years of age, with black, shoulder-length tangled hair, a dirty, middle-tanned face – light Indian perhaps, certainly not a whitey – but this individual was not Indian. Its facial features were sharp, its eyebrows falconic. The cheekbones were somewhat high-set, the nose narrow and slightly hooked. Dlamini listened to that accent. A European? From Russia perhaps? With a tan? Unlikely.
The youth had a cut above his left eyebrow and another slash across his arm; he was also bleeding through the left leg of his jeans. Someone had gone at him with knives.
What happened?” asked police chief Dlamini.
He refuses to give us a name,” said Nomvhulo.
The apparition’s eyes – dark and glittering, hard like diamonds – lifted to meet his.
My name does not matter,” it said, every word a fresh assault. “This politia is a disgrace! Where are you when things happen?” It took a strained breath through its teeth, as though barely containing its fury. “I wish to report a mugging, an attempted kidnapping, and four murders.”


*


The day had started differently.
Shadow had woken up amidst field flowers and the scent of spring, with a feeling as though something were special today. Something in the Universe had shifted. Had the Unicate been vanquished? Had his luck changed? Or had a rare flower seed from an alien world found its way to Planet Earth, to land and shoot roots and begin growing? He couldn’t tell. It was the thirteenth of August, the year two-thousand one hundred – a year he had never thought he’d see.
He had walked the short distance to the little town of Sabie, the no-horse-town in Southern Free, thanking his lucky stars that here in this faraway world of wonders no Unicate hunted his tail. He was sixteen – the mad flight through Europe fresh in his mind. Here, he could wake up in safety. 
 
The day had continued to be good to him, with Sabie holding a flower festival of sorts. That meant lots of stalls in the main road, and ample opportunity to nick a fresh bread roll for breakfast from one stall, and a bit of biltong from another after distracting the stall-holder with a few magic tricks involving his handkerchief and some money. The hanky was really only a torn-off bit of cloth from an old t-shirt, with which he usually cleaned his jack-knife. But it – literally – did the trick.
Of course nobody trusted him; he stuck out like a sore thumb in his nearly invisible old grey gypsy coat and his floppy grey vagabond hat. Well, too bad. The people of Sabie had better get used to him. He entertained more people with some sleight-of-hand tricks – old stuff he and his friends had practised on each other back home from no age at all. And then he got bored and found a place from where he could study the colourful melee. Hanging about aimlessly and wondering about this strange, peaceful country. Hours passed. Southern Free was a magical world. He’d never have believed it, back home.
*


“What are you doing, scruffy boy?”
Dark eyes glanced at the cherubic little girl from under the floppy grey hat. The young vagabond’s fingers stilled, forgetting about the small piece of wood and jackknife as he studied the child intensely.
Wispy blonde hair framed large, sky-blue eyes in a cute dolly-like face. The cheeks were pink and flushed. She wanted an answer!
Shadow glanced down at the carved voodoo doll in his hand, not the first he had carved, and it wouldn’t be the last. He laughed softly, embarrassed.
“Nothing.” He threw the item into the air and caught it again, and it vanished into his pocket. “Just making a toy for myself.”
“You play with dolls?”
He peered at her.
And you should not talk to strangers! How old are you?”
Four chubby fingers were stuck as close to his face as she could reach. Funny how kids always seemed to presume that tall people were near-sighted!
So you’re four?”
She nodded avidly.
And do you have a name?”
My name is Lucy! What’s yours?”
Shadow,” said the young vagabond.
That’s a fake!” exclaimed Lucy in disgust.
No,” he said, “it’s my name.”
Nobody is called Shadow!”
Well, then I’m nobody!”
She stomped her foot. “Tell me your real name!”
The vagabond grinned and beckoned her closer. He cupped his hands to her ear.
I eat children!” he hissed sharply.
Lucy recoiled and gave him a scathing look. You’re weird!” She cocked her head and studied him. “Why are you sad?”
Shadow threw his head back and laughed brightly. And swallowed back the darkness that always got him when he tried talking to children.
Because his mind would go on a run-away mission. Blood, torn little bodies, and those poor, glassy dark eyes staring at him for the last time. And then the darkness in him would grow and start morphing, no matter how hard he had tried to leave that dark entity behind in Europe. Sadness. His whole life was steeped in it.
He put a lid on it. I’m not sad. Where’s your mommy? Why are you talking to strangers?”
She’s over there,” and the pudgy fingers waved in the indistinct direction of the main road, or what went for a main road here in Sabie.
Shadow squinted into the bright sunlight, trying to locate her in the melee of people. Any number of women could be “mommy”. Big gadchey women, fat gadchey women and some skinny, super-well-dressed gadchey women. Inbetween, a kaleidoscope’s worth of other kinds of gadje. There were no gypsies here in Southern Free. He was the only one.
You’re lost, right?” he surmised. And his fingers dug in his pockets. “Here, have a sweetie.”
Gimme!” Greedy little fingers reached for that sticky toffee. He withheld it. “Hey!” shouted Lucy.
You shouldn’t take sweets from a stranger,” he advised with a smile. Something silver reflected in his teeth. “They could be drugs, you know!” He handed the small treat over, and she unwrapped it with amazing skill. Clearly she had practice. That sweetie vanished in her mouth.
Shadow peered into the masses. He’d better keep an eye on...
A well-padded gadchey bore down on them, swinging her handbag.
“Lucy! There you are! You there, get away from my daughter!”
Shadow grinned and performed an exaggerated bow, demonstratively stepping away from the little girl. The gadchey grabbed Lucy’s hand and yanked her away, starting down the road at a frightening speed.
Bye, Shadow!” called Lucy happily, waving at him and ignoring the semi-hysterical ranting of her mother. “Be well!”
You too, Sparklies,” he called after her. And he slumped back against the grey wall, pulling the voodoo doll and his jackknife back out of his pocket.
Sharktooth, he thought as he opened up the blade of his knife. It had been his only friend through many cold, dreadful nights filled with teeth, sirens, and uniforms hunting him. Its blade was good; it cut more than wood. Carving little items forced him to keep it razor-sharp. Knives did not rust when they were constantly used.
And his mind replayed him some of the other things Sharktooth had seen and done.
Shadow cursed under his breath and put his woodcarving away. Little girls like Lucy, whose stupid, offensive gadchey mothers let them run around unsupervised in a wild place like this, were an endangered species. In Romania, they all had known how to look after their children. And even that hadn’t stopped the forces of evil. 
 
He trailed idly after the mother and daughter, out of sight. At least he could see that the pair got home safely.


Fire-red Barberton daisies were flowering along the roadside. Shadow deeply inhaled the thick, moist air. One thing about Eastern Province, this humid spot in the middle of the country they called Southern Free: It was always summer. Even in winter it was summer. The nights got cool, certainly; but nothing like he had lived through in the past four years, travelling west through Europe. With a shudder his mind returned to snowy nights spent with other vagrants around barrels of burning stuff – mainly rubbish. And some nights, darker and colder still, spent alone, up in trees, wrapped in his grey Tzigan coat; crouched and shivering and sick to his heart. But when the cold got too much he'd always found some place to crawl into between rubbish mounds; city rubbish and human rubbish, and sometimes a barn full of cows or sheep, animal-whispering them into allowing him to curl up and shelter against their body heat. And in the morning he'd been gone again, a drifter, a fugitive, invisible to all but the wind. Ha, that icy, icy wind!
Europe had not been good to him. But he had not been good to Europe, either! Ha! He had fought back. Four years of running for his life, and leaving a trail of blood, before he had escaped onto a south-bound ship.
His ears peaked. He thought he heard a little girl’s squeal of protest. He rolled his eyes skywards as he headed in the direction of the scream.
A second later they were back in view. Shadow iced. It had not been a toddler’s scream of protest; it had been a cry of panic. The woman was in a tug-of-war for her hand gun with one of Southern Free’s countless muggers. A second thug had grabbed little Lucy and was running for it. Ransom money? Or slave trade, thought the gypsy. Or worse, something sinister, something to do with the black magic that was still practised in some parts of this country.
He hurled a rock at the man who was struggling with the mother, and then his worn-out sneakers pounded the ancient tarmac as he ran after the other one.
Man, could those skebengos run! But not as fast as Shadow! He had outrun the wind; he had outrun the Unicate. The gangster was now only a few metres away and Shadow was gaining. He spotted the rest of the gang in the middle distance, glancing out behind one of Sabie’s curlicue antique stone buildings. Rats! Not enough time! The gypsy ripped out his jack-knife and threw it at the guy’s legs. It found its target in the hollow of the gangster’s knee, and he went down, losing his grip on Lucy. The wiry Romanian teen was on top of him, bashing his head to the pavement, giving Lucy a chance to run.
The preschooler stood staring at him instead.
"Shadow!" she squealed.
“Run to your mommy!” he shouted. The little girl bolted. Shukar.
The two remaining thugs were approaching at a run. Shadow got up, retrieved his floppy hat and put it back on, and pocketed his woodcarving knife. The foremost gangster slowed down and stopped, staring at his dead associate on the street. And the tell-tale gash at his throat.
“Sorry,” said Shadow. “Shouldn’t steal children.” He flashed a silvery smile.
They approached him with caution. He looked unarmed; but he had to have some knife, else how could he have cut the other man's throat?
“Hey,” said the gypsy, grinning, “it’s a free country!” He spread out his hands in a harmless gesture. The two gangsters jumped at him, eager to grab him before he could reach for his weapon. Shadow took off, straight back to the town, and to the police station. At its steps he stopped and turned to face his assailants, spreading his hands once again, taunting them. Grinning at them. Waiting. They caught up and grabbed him, one by each arm. This was Southern Free. The police was asleep.


*


Hours later, a badly beaten-up and injured young Romanian rebel banged on the antique little bell on the counter of Sabie’s police office.

Atenţie! Atenţie! Poliţia!!”
Such a lot of swearwords! The young female officer emerged from the tearoom to see who was being so rude.
“May I help you?”
“I want to report a mugging, a kidnapping and four murders,” said Shadow, wiping the blood out of his eyes as it seeped down from a cut on his forehead.


*



The Solar Wind series is on Smashwords, with the pilot sequel, "The Mystery of the Solar Wind", available for free.  

Here is the link:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/24238

https://www.smashwords.com/books/byseries/24238