Today's suggested reading is. . .
The Night Pickup by Dee – 54 pages
It was 1:30 am when the dispatcher called. Nick had been dozing in her cap, just waiting for the shift to end. She needed to go home to bed but sleep was a long way off as she was send to pick up a woman at a rest stop on the interstate. She found the woman sitting on top of one of the picnic tables, feet on a seat, head down – crying. As it turned out she had no money in her pocket and nowhere to go so Nick offers her a bowl of chili and her couch to sleep on.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-GO
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Monday, November 25, 2013
Let's Read Season Twist
Today's suggested reading is. . .
Season Twist by Sunflower - 25 pages
A mother is still mourning the passing of her dead lover. Her mother-in-law encourages her to host a party for her daughter and in so doing meets the dark-haired mother of one of her friends.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-pv
Season Twist by Sunflower - 25 pages
A mother is still mourning the passing of her dead lover. Her mother-in-law encourages her to host a party for her daughter and in so doing meets the dark-haired mother of one of her friends.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-pv
Friday, November 22, 2013
Let's Read Endless Twilight
Today's suggested reading is. . .
Endless Twilight by Rainbird - 70 pages
Three thousand years ago, Ares tricked Xena into immortality. The only way she can become mortal again is to destroy him, but so far she has been unsuccessful. In present-day New York City, Xena at last has a weapon that can kill Ares, and she finally tracks him down in a very unexpected place. But when she discovers that Ares' current wife, Alison Carter is the reincarnation of her eternal soulmate Gabrielle, things get rather complicated.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-Ao
Endless Twilight by Rainbird - 70 pages
Three thousand years ago, Ares tricked Xena into immortality. The only way she can become mortal again is to destroy him, but so far she has been unsuccessful. In present-day New York City, Xena at last has a weapon that can kill Ares, and she finally tracks him down in a very unexpected place. But when she discovers that Ares' current wife, Alison Carter is the reincarnation of her eternal soulmate Gabrielle, things get rather complicated.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-Ao
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Let's Read Rock My World
Today's suggested reading is. . .
Rock My World by Kandis Glasgow - 55 pages
Take one Regina Taylor, record executive, tall, dark and dangerous. Add singer Kari Swift, not tall but she more than made up for her height with fatal cutness. Record Exec and Singer meet - match made in heaven right? NOT! It's hate at first sight as far as Kari is concerned...will Reggie be able to change her mind? Follow along and enter the stormy music world and see if they'll rock on!
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-xc
Rock My World by Kandis Glasgow - 55 pages
Take one Regina Taylor, record executive, tall, dark and dangerous. Add singer Kari Swift, not tall but she more than made up for her height with fatal cutness. Record Exec and Singer meet - match made in heaven right? NOT! It's hate at first sight as far as Kari is concerned...will Reggie be able to change her mind? Follow along and enter the stormy music world and see if they'll rock on!
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-xc
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Let's Read Passion’s Fool
Today's suggested reading is. . .
Passion’s Fool by Kim Pritekel - 38 pages
Fallon of Aragon is about to marry Sarah Everston, but the two have never met. Sarah’s husband has a secret. A secret that won’t be discovered until after they are married.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-fi
Passion’s Fool by Kim Pritekel - 38 pages
Fallon of Aragon is about to marry Sarah Everston, but the two have never met. Sarah’s husband has a secret. A secret that won’t be discovered until after they are married.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-fi
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Tuesdays With Phineas Redux
Phineas Pursues His Dream
Rain was still coming through the decrepit slate roof in places, but that was a minor problem; at least the cracked window was now sealed. What a great idea it had been to use that old oil painting, by some guy called Turner, which had been taking up space on the drawing-room wall since his grandfather’s time. Wedging it across the broken glass pane certainly did now keep the rain at bay. Of course it meant you could no longer see out the window; but that was of no consequence, compared to the usual puddle on the floor.
Phineas’s pad, courtesy of William John Muller.
Phineas gave himself a pat on the back (well, of course, he didn’t actually pat himself on the back. That’s just a figure of speech, familiar to all great writers like myself). Then he settled down at his accustomed place of work. The room was low-ceilinged, with rafters; the building itself dating from Elizabethan times, it being the Redux family’s proud boast that not a single item of repair had ever been carried out on the structure since its foundation. On the street side were two low, square, diamond-paned windows; one of which had jammed shut 120 years earlier and had never been opened since. The other was the one now concealed by the oil painting. “Thank goodness for paint-daubers.” Phineas thought happily as he sat down, “If they hadn’t spent so much time splattering paint all over canvases, where would he be now?”
‘Shade and Darkness, The Evening of the Deluge’. Oil painting by JMW Turner. 1843.
The desk was actually a reclaimed kitchen table, though made of oak. It had been varnished with exterior brick-sealant some time in the past; and now if a book was laid on it for any appreciable time it tended to stick in place. Phineas, in his brilliance, had vanquished this difficulty by laying a couple of pieces of floor linoleum at strategic places on the desk, so that problem was solved; though it did nothing for the harmonious styling of the desk’s appearance. At his elbow as he sat on the rickety chair, itself a refugee from the kitchen, lay an ink-pot and quill with goose feather. He had indeed heard of such new-fangled devices as typewriters and carbon-paper; but Phineas had a deeply ingrained reverence for the old traditions. What had been good enough for his great-grandfather, Quintilian Redux, was still good enough for him.
Marcus Fabius Quintilianus. 35AD-100AD.
Ah, he thought parenthetically (look it up, must I do everything?), as he fidgeted on his chair trying to get comfortably settled, dear old Great-Grandfather Quint, what a guy. One of the most successful authors of Boys Stories and later, under the pseudo-moniker ‘Atalanta Carter’, Girls’ Stories as well in the middle of the 19th century; who, at one point, had kept no fewer than five weekly magazines (or Penny Dreadful’s, as they were then called) in profitable business at the same time.
Writing ‘Xena; Warrior Princess’ stories for his part, Phineas mused or cogitated (no, it isn’t illegal or vulgar; you must be thinking of something else!), was so difficult to get just right—the present-day audience being so demanding! This regularly made him consider why he had not chosen more mainstream Heroic claimants to his literary exertions. Why hadn’t he taken Gladys Mitchell’s advice, that time they had shared vodka ‘Red Hunter’ cocktails at the ‘Mystery Writer’s’ Club, back in the ‘50’s. The Grand Old Lady (probably a non-PC term nowadays, Phineas gloomily thought) of the mystery tale had knocked back her second cocktail with all the graceful aplomb of a Lady of Quality and nodded wisely. “ ‘Sapper’ was your man, Phin, old cock. H C McNeile knew his blood and guts. After all, wasn’t he a commissioned officer in the First World War, who went into No-Man’s Land regularly to do awful things personally to the Hun? He knew how to put a really good ‘Knock ‘em About’ story together. If you must write stories around some other author’s characters Phin, you old blister, then ‘Bulldog Drummond’s your man.”
Gladys Mitchell. 1901-1983.
Wise advice indeed but Phineas, seeking greater more adventurous fields for his endeavour, had pooh-poohed this helpful guidance. Telling Gladys what he thought of her helpful hints, and ‘Bulldog Drummond’ in particular, using strong manly short Anglo-Saxon terms—and receiving back from the Grande Dame, on her part, some unrestrained and authoritative suggestions as to his next course of action—he had tottered out into the Pall Mall twilight three sheets to the wind, ‘Red Hunters’ do that to you, and collided with the personification of England’s Law in human form, ie, a policewoman in uniform; who had immediately sorted his hash by knocking him down with her baton—an entirely proper action in the circumstances. A night in the cells; an appearance at the Morning Session of Bow St. Magistrates Court; the forced separation between him and one of his most treasured and beloved £5 notes; and the business was swiftly concluded to everyone’s satisfaction.
Phineas meandered homewards,—looking for all the world like a bedraggled out-of-position sailor loitering along to the Pool to see if his next ship had come in—cudgelling his brains, or what euphemistically passed muster for them, trying to come up with a really good subject for his writing skills. But later in the day when Time, an ice-pack on the forehead, and calm reasoning had all fulfilled their combined reason d’etre, Phineas recognized the sad reality of his situation. There was nothing for it but to keep the blue devils at bay by watching that DVD Aunt Clytemnestra had sent him last Christmas, from the depths of Patagonia where she kept her hacienda. A lost cause if ever there was one, but with no hope left Phineas pushed the appropriate buttons, settled back on his broken-springed sofa, and prepared for an uncomfortable hour in front of the seven-inch screen monochrome 1948 goggle-box which, surprisingly, was still in working order.
1948 RCA TV.
But what’s this? A tall dark-haired woman riding a white horse, flailing a nasty looking sword the while. Accompanied by a delicate petite blonde girl with a sweet smile, and a snappy attitude and tongue that’d call forth admiration in any group of fishwives you’d care to assemble. Set in Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, Modern America, Old China, the Steppes of Russia, snowy mountains in Norway, Classical Japan; in fact, just about everywhere, and in every possible time you care to mention! Let’s see, Phineas thought or ruminated, as he pulled the tattered copy of ‘Weekly TV Schedules’ from where he’d kicked it under the sofa last Wednesday. Ah, here it is—‘Xena; Warrior Princess’, hmm, seems worth looking at—let’s see what it’s about.
An hour later and Phineas had seen the light. Xena and Gabrielle were his gals, and fan-fiction was his game. What this franchise obviously needed was a battalion of really determined sincere dedicated fan-fiction writers. And why not be among the first, thought Phineas; sitting at his desk and stirring the stodgy ink in its stone bottle with the point of an old quill; arranging the pile of loose sheets of paper to his right-hand side; and placing firmly on his head the woollen cap he favoured when under the influence of his Muse (it kept his ever-increasing bald spot warm, y’understand). So then, how should it go —
*
‘The camp-fire had scarcely begun flickering in the wan morning light before the crowd of banditos, hiding in the surrounding bushes, ran out to overcome the two women. In a flash there were screams of fear, crashes as bodies hit the dirt, horrible noises as limbs were wrenched painfully out of alignment, and scuffling sounds as the survivors ran for the horizon.
“Just another morning, Xena.” The fair-haired small woman bent down, to carry on putting eggs in the now slightly bent frying-pan.
“Yep, just another day. Gives me an appetite, though.” The tall dark dangerous woman grinned widely at her companion. “Good job we got six eggs; two for you, an’ four for me.”
“Har, Har, Warrior Princess.” Gabrielle was having none of it. “Separate me from my third egg an’ you’ll be sorry, baby!”
Fighting at the Campfire. The gals protect their breakfast.
The End.
*
Notes —
1. ‘Red Hunter’ cocktail— 1 part vodka; 1 part Single Malt 12 year old Scotch whisky; a smidgin of Green Chartreuse; a dash of Angostura bitters; and several grains of pure sea-salt. It is of course always shaken, never stirred. It is also strongly advised to write your Will before drinking.
2. The Pool. An area of the Thames where cargo ships anchored at numerous wharves.
3. Blue devils. Immaterial visions attributed to extreme gloom, despair, or melancholy.
4. goggle-box. British slang for television set.
5. General chronology may be somewhat dubious; but Hades, where would all the fun be if everything were boringly straightforward—it never bothered Xena and Gabrielle in their adventures, you’ll recall!
Rain was still coming through the decrepit slate roof in places, but that was a minor problem; at least the cracked window was now sealed. What a great idea it had been to use that old oil painting, by some guy called Turner, which had been taking up space on the drawing-room wall since his grandfather’s time. Wedging it across the broken glass pane certainly did now keep the rain at bay. Of course it meant you could no longer see out the window; but that was of no consequence, compared to the usual puddle on the floor.
Phineas gave himself a pat on the back (well, of course, he didn’t actually pat himself on the back. That’s just a figure of speech, familiar to all great writers like myself). Then he settled down at his accustomed place of work. The room was low-ceilinged, with rafters; the building itself dating from Elizabethan times, it being the Redux family’s proud boast that not a single item of repair had ever been carried out on the structure since its foundation. On the street side were two low, square, diamond-paned windows; one of which had jammed shut 120 years earlier and had never been opened since. The other was the one now concealed by the oil painting. “Thank goodness for paint-daubers.” Phineas thought happily as he sat down, “If they hadn’t spent so much time splattering paint all over canvases, where would he be now?”
The desk was actually a reclaimed kitchen table, though made of oak. It had been varnished with exterior brick-sealant some time in the past; and now if a book was laid on it for any appreciable time it tended to stick in place. Phineas, in his brilliance, had vanquished this difficulty by laying a couple of pieces of floor linoleum at strategic places on the desk, so that problem was solved; though it did nothing for the harmonious styling of the desk’s appearance. At his elbow as he sat on the rickety chair, itself a refugee from the kitchen, lay an ink-pot and quill with goose feather. He had indeed heard of such new-fangled devices as typewriters and carbon-paper; but Phineas had a deeply ingrained reverence for the old traditions. What had been good enough for his great-grandfather, Quintilian Redux, was still good enough for him.
Ah, he thought parenthetically (look it up, must I do everything?), as he fidgeted on his chair trying to get comfortably settled, dear old Great-Grandfather Quint, what a guy. One of the most successful authors of Boys Stories and later, under the pseudo-moniker ‘Atalanta Carter’, Girls’ Stories as well in the middle of the 19th century; who, at one point, had kept no fewer than five weekly magazines (or Penny Dreadful’s, as they were then called) in profitable business at the same time.
Writing ‘Xena; Warrior Princess’ stories for his part, Phineas mused or cogitated (no, it isn’t illegal or vulgar; you must be thinking of something else!), was so difficult to get just right—the present-day audience being so demanding! This regularly made him consider why he had not chosen more mainstream Heroic claimants to his literary exertions. Why hadn’t he taken Gladys Mitchell’s advice, that time they had shared vodka ‘Red Hunter’ cocktails at the ‘Mystery Writer’s’ Club, back in the ‘50’s. The Grand Old Lady (probably a non-PC term nowadays, Phineas gloomily thought) of the mystery tale had knocked back her second cocktail with all the graceful aplomb of a Lady of Quality and nodded wisely. “ ‘Sapper’ was your man, Phin, old cock. H C McNeile knew his blood and guts. After all, wasn’t he a commissioned officer in the First World War, who went into No-Man’s Land regularly to do awful things personally to the Hun? He knew how to put a really good ‘Knock ‘em About’ story together. If you must write stories around some other author’s characters Phin, you old blister, then ‘Bulldog Drummond’s your man.”
Wise advice indeed but Phineas, seeking greater more adventurous fields for his endeavour, had pooh-poohed this helpful guidance. Telling Gladys what he thought of her helpful hints, and ‘Bulldog Drummond’ in particular, using strong manly short Anglo-Saxon terms—and receiving back from the Grande Dame, on her part, some unrestrained and authoritative suggestions as to his next course of action—he had tottered out into the Pall Mall twilight three sheets to the wind, ‘Red Hunters’ do that to you, and collided with the personification of England’s Law in human form, ie, a policewoman in uniform; who had immediately sorted his hash by knocking him down with her baton—an entirely proper action in the circumstances. A night in the cells; an appearance at the Morning Session of Bow St. Magistrates Court; the forced separation between him and one of his most treasured and beloved £5 notes; and the business was swiftly concluded to everyone’s satisfaction.
Phineas meandered homewards,—looking for all the world like a bedraggled out-of-position sailor loitering along to the Pool to see if his next ship had come in—cudgelling his brains, or what euphemistically passed muster for them, trying to come up with a really good subject for his writing skills. But later in the day when Time, an ice-pack on the forehead, and calm reasoning had all fulfilled their combined reason d’etre, Phineas recognized the sad reality of his situation. There was nothing for it but to keep the blue devils at bay by watching that DVD Aunt Clytemnestra had sent him last Christmas, from the depths of Patagonia where she kept her hacienda. A lost cause if ever there was one, but with no hope left Phineas pushed the appropriate buttons, settled back on his broken-springed sofa, and prepared for an uncomfortable hour in front of the seven-inch screen monochrome 1948 goggle-box which, surprisingly, was still in working order.
But what’s this? A tall dark-haired woman riding a white horse, flailing a nasty looking sword the while. Accompanied by a delicate petite blonde girl with a sweet smile, and a snappy attitude and tongue that’d call forth admiration in any group of fishwives you’d care to assemble. Set in Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, Modern America, Old China, the Steppes of Russia, snowy mountains in Norway, Classical Japan; in fact, just about everywhere, and in every possible time you care to mention! Let’s see, Phineas thought or ruminated, as he pulled the tattered copy of ‘Weekly TV Schedules’ from where he’d kicked it under the sofa last Wednesday. Ah, here it is—‘Xena; Warrior Princess’, hmm, seems worth looking at—let’s see what it’s about.
An hour later and Phineas had seen the light. Xena and Gabrielle were his gals, and fan-fiction was his game. What this franchise obviously needed was a battalion of really determined sincere dedicated fan-fiction writers. And why not be among the first, thought Phineas; sitting at his desk and stirring the stodgy ink in its stone bottle with the point of an old quill; arranging the pile of loose sheets of paper to his right-hand side; and placing firmly on his head the woollen cap he favoured when under the influence of his Muse (it kept his ever-increasing bald spot warm, y’understand). So then, how should it go —
*
‘The camp-fire had scarcely begun flickering in the wan morning light before the crowd of banditos, hiding in the surrounding bushes, ran out to overcome the two women. In a flash there were screams of fear, crashes as bodies hit the dirt, horrible noises as limbs were wrenched painfully out of alignment, and scuffling sounds as the survivors ran for the horizon.
“Just another morning, Xena.” The fair-haired small woman bent down, to carry on putting eggs in the now slightly bent frying-pan.
“Yep, just another day. Gives me an appetite, though.” The tall dark dangerous woman grinned widely at her companion. “Good job we got six eggs; two for you, an’ four for me.”
“Har, Har, Warrior Princess.” Gabrielle was having none of it. “Separate me from my third egg an’ you’ll be sorry, baby!”
The End.
*
Notes —
1. ‘Red Hunter’ cocktail— 1 part vodka; 1 part Single Malt 12 year old Scotch whisky; a smidgin of Green Chartreuse; a dash of Angostura bitters; and several grains of pure sea-salt. It is of course always shaken, never stirred. It is also strongly advised to write your Will before drinking.
2. The Pool. An area of the Thames where cargo ships anchored at numerous wharves.
3. Blue devils. Immaterial visions attributed to extreme gloom, despair, or melancholy.
4. goggle-box. British slang for television set.
5. General chronology may be somewhat dubious; but Hades, where would all the fun be if everything were boringly straightforward—it never bothered Xena and Gabrielle in their adventures, you’ll recall!
Let's Read All My Life
Today's suggested reading is. . .
All My Life by Genea - 7 pages
On the eve of their birthdays Alex remembers her first time with Max.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-sy
All My Life by Genea - 7 pages
On the eve of their birthdays Alex remembers her first time with Max.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-sy
Monday, November 18, 2013
Let's Read Somewhere in Time
Today's suggested reading is. . .
Somewhere in Time by DS Bauden - 62 pages
This is an adaptation of the movie "Somewhere in Time" which was based on Richard Matheson's novel, "Bid Time Return." The characters have been changed a little to resemble a couple of women we all know and love. I took liberties with the screenplay, but used quite a bit of the actual dialogue to keep this story as true and as wonderful as possible
Friday, November 15, 2013
Let's Read The Window Washer
Today's suggested story is. . .
The Window Washer by Nancy - 97 pages
Ria is in a relationship that she’s unsure about, and is contemplating her life choices, when a dark-hair window washer gets her attention while hanging outside of her office window.
Livin' La Vida Loca, Warrior Style by Phineas Redux
Here we are again, and the girls are still enjoying themselves. Isn’t it amazing how busy they were back then!
***
Gabrielle reacts badly to Xena’s suggestion they miss out the Amazons’ Summer Solstice Party (Bring an amphora an’ have some fun), in favour of the Pythian Games.
***
“What’s the tufty fluffy thing on top of my staff for? Wait’ll we get back to camp, Xena, an’ I’ll show you. You’ll like it!”
***
Soulful Girl.
***
“Of course I can hit the apple, Xena. But stop hopping about like that, it’ll roll off. Just stand still.”
***
“Oh, see those four big men by the beer tent, Xena. Earlier, when you weren’t here, the one on the left tried t’come on to me. But I soon put him in his place, don’t worry. Are you gon’na say hello t’them as we pass by?”
“The one on the left, eh? Oh yes, Gabrielle, I’m gon’na say hello alright!”
***
The gals enjoy watching Autolycus trying to fish, with the wrong bait.
***
Gabrielle came fourth in the Potidaean Face-Painting Competition on Festival Day, an’ she ain’t happy about it.
***
“Aren’t you a little over-dressed for a day’s sunbathing on the beach, Xena. Look at what I’m wearing. And, in a little while, I won’t even be wearing this!”
***
“Never mind where the soap’s gone, Xena. Relax, and feel the rhythm.”
***
Friends together.
***
Well, there you are. Ain’t they just fun girls to be around? Next week Callisto arrives to join in the jolly japes!
***
***
***
***
***
“The one on the left, eh? Oh yes, Gabrielle, I’m gon’na say hello alright!”
***
***
***
***
***
***
Well, there you are. Ain’t they just fun girls to be around? Next week Callisto arrives to join in the jolly japes!
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Let's Read Partners
Today's suggested story is. . .
Partners by Cheeya – 63 pages
Two FBI Agents become Partners on a case that brings one of them back to her torrid past…
http://thestoreelounge.wordpress.com/authors/partners-by-cheeya/
Partners Plus One by Cheeya – 24 pages
Sequel to 'Partners' Jordan and Alex are back for a new adventure.
http://thestoreelounge.wordpress.com/authors/partners-plus-one-by-cheeya/
Partners by Cheeya – 63 pages
Two FBI Agents become Partners on a case that brings one of them back to her torrid past…
http://thestoreelounge.wordpress.com/authors/partners-by-cheeya/
Partners Plus One by Cheeya – 24 pages
Sequel to 'Partners' Jordan and Alex are back for a new adventure.
http://thestoreelounge.wordpress.com/authors/partners-plus-one-by-cheeya/
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Let's Read Cold
Today's Suggested story is. . .
Cold by Midgit – 208 Pages
Lady Joanna is quite satisfied with her uninspiring lifestyle. But her life is turned on its head by a photograph in a gallery and she begins a quest to find the homeless woman in the photograph. When she does, can she help Rocky recover her soul and the joy of life.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-Ny
Remember Me by Midgit (Short Story) – 12 Pages
An interlude in Cold finds the pair at a cottage on the estate that is haunted by the ghost of a victim from the dark doings of the original master.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-Nx
Winter’s Thaw by Midgit (Sort Story) – 8 Pages
Another interlude in Cold finds the pair sharing a ‘warm’ moment on a cold winter’s evening.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-NA
Cold by Midgit – 208 Pages
Lady Joanna is quite satisfied with her uninspiring lifestyle. But her life is turned on its head by a photograph in a gallery and she begins a quest to find the homeless woman in the photograph. When she does, can she help Rocky recover her soul and the joy of life.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-Ny
Remember Me by Midgit (Short Story) – 12 Pages
An interlude in Cold finds the pair at a cottage on the estate that is haunted by the ghost of a victim from the dark doings of the original master.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-Nx
Winter’s Thaw by Midgit (Sort Story) – 8 Pages
Another interlude in Cold finds the pair sharing a ‘warm’ moment on a cold winter’s evening.
http://wp.me/P3Qr5Y-NA
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