Storytime Blog Hop

April 24, 2018

Storytime Blog Hop April 25th, 2018 The Letter

Welcome to another chapter in Storytime Blog Hop. We have 10 new short speculative fiction tales from authors around the world. Links to all the author’s stories below my post, check them out. We love hearing from you. Please leave us comments.

Storytime Blog Hop April 25th, 2018

THE LETTER BY JUNETA KEY

“Falling in love is easy. Falling in love with the same person repeatedly is extraordinary. — Crystal Woods

I look down at Jack’s handwriting on the letter I found. It was unexpected. Sometimes it feels like he is right in the room with me and will answer me back if I just speak to him.

I can’t believe he’s been gone for ten years and I am still here. I thought for sure my heart would stop beating with his but life doesn’t even blink. It just goes on. God, I miss him. I close my eyes. He feels so close sometimes.

“Our grandsons cleaned out the garage today.”

“I found this letter in that old desk you had buried under junk.”

“It has not been easy going on without you, but I did”.

“It took some time, but I started my own business.”

“I filled my days with our children, grandchildren, and friends.”

“I was so angry, but I was determined.”

“I took a lover.”

“I struggle with guilt about that. I still feel married to you. You left I didn’t.”

“I know it wasn’t your choice, but…”

“You know, Dean asked me again. To marry him. I’m thinking about it.”

I unfold the letter.

***

My Darling Shaya,

I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. If you found this letter then I know you are searching for pieces of me. It would be impossible for me to imagine a world without you in it.

This was not the plan, but know that I love you, always.

Do you remember the first time we met?

You were wearing those short shorts squatting by your red bug. Your red hair pulled into a wild looking clip on top of your head.

I felt punched in the gut. Mesmerized.

You wouldn’t let me help you. You thought I was a thug on a motorcycle. You even made a snarky comment about my wife-beater t-shirt.

So I watched waiting for you to ask for help. You didn’t. The myriads of expression that filtered across your face told their own story.

Your awareness of me. Your stubbornness, frustration through determination, but you got that tire changed. It took you twice as long as it would have taken me. Broke several nails and skinned up your hands. You were so proud of yourself lit from within. Your grin stole my breath.

You were feeling so brave. We were so young. You asked me to meet you for a coke, as a thank you for waiting, just in case you needed help.

We met at mom and pop’s diner. You, walking in with the local hoodlum by your side, turned a few heads. You didn’t even blink despite the frowns.

Then you surprised me, daring me to go out with you.

It was probably a bad idea. You were a senior in school. I had already graduated and worked fulltime at the mechanic shop. Bad idea. I knew it, but I couldn’t resist. We both felt the connection.

I was used to trouble, but were you? I was not the boy next door.

You surprised me again by insisting I meet your parents. It was a condition. I came close to calling it off. Not sure I wanted the headache, but I was already hooked.

I thought your parents would forbid you to see me. Your dad invited me inside I figured to warn me off or threaten me. Shock. No lectures, no threats or warnings.

We talked in the den about motorcycles, cars, racing and my job at the mechanic shop, while your mom went upstairs to tell you I was waiting for you.

That was a defining moment for me. I realized it was not that your parents trusted me, but they trusted you. They respected you and your choices.

I never had much family, but I recognized the rarity of yours. I wanted that.

We’ve had our rough moments but through it all, you gave me that. Family.

You taught me about real love and what that looks like in the daily living of it.

My life was better because of you. I was better. Loving you, our family… What a grand life we’ve had.

Thank you for that beautiful girl. I have no regrets.

There is so much life in you still. I don’t want you to be alone. Live large, my love. Stay strong. Find joy. Find love again and live for both of us. I dare you. That is what I want for you. It’s okay to be happy.

I love you, always, Jack.

***

On the back of the last page of the letter, Jack had written a poem.

FALLING THROUGH THE YEARS
Falling through the years
One smile at a time.
The daily thought of you.
***
Your laughter,
Your kindness,
Your heart.
***
Your touch,
Your scent,
Your sound.
***
Holding me,
Loving me,
Always there for me.
***
Living in mutual grace.
You see me,
Your eyes light for me.
***
Even now
Midway through our lives,
Our hearts synchronize.
***
You think of me
I think of you
You are the air I breathe.
***
The last thought
Always Of You.
Eternity beckons.
***
My Spirit sings…
— Until we meet again,
My love…
Jack

I folded the letter back into the envelope. I shivered. I felt a brush against my hand, a caress along my cheek and a whisper. “No regrets. Live.” The curtains moved slightly. It was then I saw him. Right in front of me. Time stood still. He smiled. Blew me a kiss, and then he was gone. Was it my imagination?

I don’t know. Horrible grief did not crush me. Instead, I thought of Dean.

This new love might not be earth-shattering, soul moving, the all or nothing kind that Jack and I shared. I knew Dean loved me. He was patience and kind. He was my best friend. He made me laugh. He was quiet and steady, so easily taken for granite but not anymore. I picked up my cell phone. It was time to give Dean an answer.

Storytime Blog Hop April 25th, 2018

A reading list of 10 stories from authors around the world. We love hearing from you. Please leave comments. Enjoy!

A Snow White Morning, by Katharina Gerlach
The Letter, by Juneta Key
Trick or Treacle, by Angela Wooldridge
Sugar in the Raw, by Karen Lynn
Inferno, by Fanni Soto
Tae, by Barbara Lund
Interstellar Student Exchange, by Raven O’Fiernan
The Ghost Fighter, by Bill Bush
Hare, by Elizabeth McCleary
The Widow, by Vanessa Wells

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April 24, 2018

The Widow by Vanessa Wells Storytime Blog Hop April 25th

Storytime Blog Hop April 25th, 2018

The Widow by Vanessa Wells

It was summer, so there was a little food to spare.

Not like midwinter when I would have felt guilty for taking a mouthful of soup from my son’s belly.

Besides, in order to have a dumb feast, you needed all the dead man’s favorite foods. And my John had loved the fresh food in summer.

Midsummer eve, I readied it, just as my old grandma had told me when I was a child.

I started with watermelon. I even took a bit for myself. It was sweet and crisp across my tongue, cold from being down in the well all day. Next, I halved a slice of fresh bread, a bit of cheese, and poured out a thick chicken soup that had been his favorite before he got ill.

It wasn’t much to lure the ghost of my husband back, no wine, so spirits, but that was too dear for me; I had to hope he’d come because I desperately needed his advice.

Hot tears clouded my eyes, making the candles on the table shine like stars. I felt a warm hand wiping them away.

“Don’t cry, Sarah.”

I didn’t speak; speaking would break the spell. I had carefully written the problem on a piece of paper. I pushed it toward him.

“Luke is taking an apprenticeship?” He frowned. “With James Morgan?”

I nodded. Morgan had been part of the reason John had died. He’d shot the last doctor in the territory during a drunken card game.

My dead husband sighed, “And you want to stop him. Sarah, you know the boy is just trying to look out for you. Morgan’s a bastard, but he’s a decent blacksmith. Luke will learn everything he knows in just a few years…then he’ll be able to set himself up somewhere else…”

I pointed to the last part of the letter. The part he hadn’t read.

Even for a ghost, John went pale.

“He wants you to…”

I saw the anger in my husband’s eyes. I didn’t like James Morgan, be if he’d demanded I marry him to train Luke, I supposed I might have considered it. It might be better than starving. But Morgan was married, and what he wanted from me had nothing to do with honorable wedding vows.

“Luke doesn’t know.” John’s words were a statement. No, my son had no idea of the private price I would pay if he took this offer…but it was a small town, and it wouldn’t take long for everyone to know. He might be able to set up somewhere else, but with a whore for a mother, he’d never be able to live here, in this house that John and I had built. I wouldn’t live to see my grandchildren if we took this path, because in this town once you took a man who was not your husband to your bed, others would follow, whether you wanted them to or not.

I felt the tears run hot down my face.

My husband reached out to me, but he couldn’t touch my cheek.

“Don’t do it. Take the boy, go to a city somewhere. You’re a great seamstress. In a bigger town…”

I shook my head. There was no money to set up in another town, and my poor husband didn’t know how little seamstresses made.

I gave him a wan smile.

Calling John had been a mistake. He’d been happy in whatever afterlife was waiting for a good hardworking man.

The problems of the living shouldn’t bother the dead.

I whispered, “I love you.”

The spell broke, as I’d known it would. A single word was enough to break the dumb feast. The silence of the living was the price to speak with the dead.

I cleaned up the food…it had aged, food for his spirit for those precious, precious moments.

The next morning, head held high, I wrote Morgan and told him that I accepted his ‘generous’ offer. I sent my son to town with the note, with permission to visit a friend once it was delivered. I knew my Luke, it would be hours before he came home.

John Morgan would be much quicker. He and I would have plenty of time.

I waited silently as an hour passed and I heard the quiet noise of a man on a horse outside my door.

He didn’t knock. I looked at him emotionlessly as he stood in the doorway my husband had built with his own two hands, leering.

I didn’t flinch as I pulled the trigger of John’s old gun, nor as I went through James Morgan’s pockets after he sputtered his last.

After all, when you are a widow, every bit helps.

BIO

Vanessa Wells lives with her family deep in an enchanted forest (in Texas). Her hobbies include writing, drinking tea (coffee gave her an ulcer), reading, writing some more, and cooking. She battles daily infestations of plot bunnies…and dust bunnies, but that’s another matter entirely.

Vanessa is the author of the Seventeen Stones Trilogy and the Topeka, TX Chronicles (Magic and Other Disasters and Magic and Other Distractions), the editor of the short story compilations Spirit and Trick or Treat, and a contributor to Adventure of Creation. She is currently working on a third series (Area 52).

Vanessa’s Amazon Book Page

Welcome to another chapter in Storytime Blog Hop. We have 10 new short speculative fiction tales from authors around the world. Links to all the author’s stories below. We love hearing from you. Please leave us comments.

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April 18, 2018

Instinct Short Story

**I changed my WordPress theme in 2018 redoing my website, so I am still transferring post from the old site to here. This is Storytime Blog Hop April 27th, 2016 (6 Stories from authors around the world, starting with my contribution, Instinct.)

Instinct A Short Story

Storytime Blog Hop April 27th, 2016

Welcome to another chapter in Storytime Blog Hop. We have 6 new short speculative fiction tales from authors around the world. My contribution below. Be sure and check out the links below to read the other authors in the hop. Leave us comments. We love hearing from you.

INSTINCT

It felt like years since the earth yawned open swallowing his mother whole. Horror had paralyzed him until instinct kicked in. He had traveled many miles since then or at least it felt like it.

He managed to push thoughts of his mother aside in a single-minded focus that set a grueling pace with little rest. Strung along by an intuitive force that lessened as he near the coastline. He kept moving until hunger drove him to steal food, or someone handed it to him.

Kaylyn sniffed the air tagging the smells; salt, sea, flora and fauna, old dust and wet dirt hung in the air. His senses felt sharper more accurate. He knew from the smells that he needed to find shelter soon or get caught in heavy rain.

On the edge of the forest where an open field housed a huge sign he read, Welcome to Moon Hollow. Just Another Port in the Storm.

Next to the paved road, he could see a single building with a surrounding tree line that appeared to spill from its roof. It’s stained glass mosaic window, still intact, said Blue Orchid Café.

The gnawing pain in his middle had faded; however; he knew he needed to find food more than shelter.

The sound of an approaching vehicle settled his internal debate as he leaped out into the open. He crossed the field before the vehicle could round the corner sheltering in the shadow of the building to remain hidden.

Seconds later, he watched a man and teenage girl exit a black sedan. The jangle of bells cued him that the front door opened. He angled through the narrow gap before it shut.

Kaylan ducked behind a tree growing through the inside floor. The trees appendages weaved in and out of the walls, which was odd, but he didn’t have time to ponder it, so much had changed that he did not understand since the world shook apart.

“Simon Jacks?”

“Whose asking?” The man eyed the duo from behind a bar.

“Nathan Lovett. I’m a solicitor with Bingaman and Beckmann Law Associates.” A pudgy tanned hand laid a small card on the bar along with a legal sized document.

Simon picked the card up. “So?”

The solicitor pointed to the girl. “Your half-sister, Ava Jacks.”

“I don’t have a half-sister,” Simon said.

“You do.” This time, he pointed to the document still on the bar. “And, you have been awarded custody.”

Kaylan shifted to get a better look at the girl. Pretty, but not too girly. She had shoved her auburn hair into a ball cap. Little bits hung out. The baseball jersey she wore looked dingy, with a faded number 3 on back.

He thought she stood unusually still. Her stance was defiant like fate had not been kind to her either. He guessed her about 13.

“Absolutely not! Where’s the kid’s parents?”

“Gone!” Ava said twisting toward the door. Her tone was flat, but Kaylan heard the anger and grief underneath. It made him bristle.

The solicitor caught the girl’s arm, “No. You. Don’t.”

Kaylan’s world coalesced into one pivotal moment in the past, his mother. He leaped forward in a crouch yelling, “Let her go!”

A deep growl and then bark sounded really close. Where was the dog?

The man called Simon came out from behind the bar. “Get that wolf-pup out of my business.”

Did he mean me? Kaylan eyeballed Simon in alarm, backpedaling. He glanced down at his hands; seeing paws covered in snowy fur. The world wasn’t just different and crazy; HE was different.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he’d wake up in his bed discovering all this had been a nightmare.

The sound of a swinging door distracted everyone. A giant man wearing an apron stood at the back of the room.

Kaylan didn’t ask permission. He hit the swinging door at full speed, only to find himself cornered a few seconds later as he slid into a wall.

The girl threw herself in front of him. “Leave him alone. He’s just a puppy.”

Nettled by the description. Irritation replaced panic. Tingling engulfed him. He felt himself stretching out of his body and into the universe, except he wasn’t doing anything.

With his chin jutted out, he said to the girl, “I’m not a puppy. I’m a boy.”

Instinct Short Story

STORYTIME BLOG HOP PARTICIPATES APRIL 2016

Elizabeth McCleary Window

Karen Lynn Williams

Katharina Gerlach Wet Kisses

Marie Lee Grandpa

Barbara Lund Changing Space

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April 18, 2018

POSEIDON’S ISLAND Short Story

**I changed my WordPress theme in 2018 redoing my website, so I am still transferring post from the old site to here. This is Storytime Blog Hop January 25th, 2017 post (8 Stories from authors around the world, starting with my contribution,Poseidon’s Island.)

ATLANTIS EMERGENCE

ONCE MAGIC & TECHNOLOGY CO-EXISTED

10,000 years have passed since Atlantis sank. Magic was ripped from the world and sealed within its belly when three powerful wizards trespassed into the valley of the gods in search of immortality. For the magic-born, losing magic was a bit like being blind and deaf trapped in a black void that smothered the creative life of the soul.

Immortality changed the brothers, especially the eldest, whose heart was already dark. He took what he wanted demanding devotion and punishing those who did not comply or opposed him. For a brief time, his reign was known as the Age of Solaris.

The other two brothers, Aleric and Mykel, recognized the cost of their folly. They tried to set things right at great sacrifice. Atlantis sank trapping the eldest brother, his followers and half the citizens of Atlantis in a portal between worlds under the sea, while magic faded from the world sealed within the lie line grid beneath it.

Now after ten millennia a young thief triggers the rising of Atlantis and a new age of magic within human history.

POSEIDON’S ISLAND

Lightning struck the sand in front of Remi, sand geyser up as it transformed into fulgurite leaping across the land to form a barrier, fencing her in between the wall and sea. Power laced the air so thick it sent her hair into a Medusa dance around her face. She faced the wizards ignoring the kamikaze butterflies in her stomach.

The dark one held out his hand toward her, “Give me back my amulet little thief. You have no idea what you hold.”

The crystal heart in her palm pulsed matching the rhythm of her heart. Joy and fear tangled within her. The vibration a song only she could hear.

“No one wants to hurt you girl. Just give me the crystal.”

Remi felt more than saw the gray wizard raise his staff. The dark one may mean her no harm, but the gray-haired wizard had other ideas. Instinctively she threw up her arms, her free hand, palm turned out. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please don’t let this hurt.

Whoosh!

Pop!

Grunt!

Her eyes flew open. The gray wizard lay on his back haphazardly slapping at the smoke rising from his robes rolling back and forth over the sand.

The dark one chuckled. His attention focused on the gray wizard, “By Poseidon’s light, you have magic.”

Remi didn’t know anything about magic, but she knew she needed to escape. The jagged edge wall now stretched as far as the eye could see, which left the sea as her only exit. Taking advantage of the distraction she ran. The minute her feet touched water she knew she had made a mistake. A force grabbed her jerking her into and under the water. She kicked. She fought. The more she struggled the deeper she went.

Down,

She looked up at the receding water line marked by a halo of light. Her last thought… Don’t let go of the amulet.

***

Air tickled Remi’s skin. She sat up inhaling deeply. She hadn’t drowned. She sat on a lounger in an open room with walls of glass between her and the ocean. Light broke through the upper part of the window. The room was moving.

“Ah, you’re awake.” A white-haired bearded man stepped into her line of vision, yet he didn’t look old.

“Who are you?”

“Solaris Merlin at your service.” I thought you might sleep through it, but you are just in time to see Atlantis rise.”

***

Logo Created by Katharina Gerlach

1. Veronica byJessica Kruppa

2. Last Stop by Erica Damon

3. Jesse and Tyler by Bill Bush

4. The Poisoner of Time by Karen Lynn

5. New Stork Inc. by Katharina Gerlach

6. Hello Again! by J. Q. Rose

7. Reflected by Elizabeth McCleary

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April 17, 2018

Deep Dive Short Story

**I changed my WordPress theme in 2018 redoing my website, so I am still transferring post from the old site to here. This is Storytime Blog Hop April 26th, 2017 post (13 Stories from authors around the world, starting with my contribution, Deep Dive.)

Poseidon Pixaby.com

I wrote this first in 3rd person and decided to rewrite in 1st person. It changed a bit doing that. This will probably get another rewrite, but here it is for the hop. It really was meant for a bigger story, but my character insisted I tell his story, so to make him hush his prattle in my head–I did.

DEEP DIVE

By Juneta Key

ISLE OF MOON HOLLOW
Outer Limits Motel

The pool shimmered. Thick silvery light gathered at its center exploding up in a steady stream. Shadowy outlines of Mer-Fey, not seen in centuries, swam within its flow. They rode the arching stream to the ground where they stepped out on human legs. The water grew silent, settling. The guest rooms remained dark as the dawn tinted the horizon.

***

Nothing had gone as planned. The moment I voiced my unease it disappeared. I tried to recall the last three weeks, but my memories were hazy.

True to specks, at 130 feet our sea scooters became ineffective.

I told them.

A dorsal fin pushed into my hand dislodging my sluggish sea scooter. That was a first. I smiled despite the oddity of it.
My companions discarded their sea scooters and continued on without dolphins. My eyes narrowed staying glued to my equipment until it near the sea floor.

Every diver experienced narcosis when diving around 60-feet. I was lucky. The effect was moderate. Narcosis had no long-term effects on divers it just temporarily messed with your head a bit.

The precaution against it was practice until it was as natural as breathing. Plus, safety checks at intervals on the way down. This kept a deep dive on course.

When had we stopped doing the safety checks?

I switched my air-cylinder, patting myself on the back for staging a tank drop the night before. We’d need the extras for the return to the surface.

My deepest dives were commercial hires. Around 200 feet. The deepest ever recorded was 1044 feet, and this was deeper.

They assured me they were expert divers. It wasn’t my diving skills that were needed, but my expertise in cartography. That was what brought Tia, Raina, and Jock into my business, Jonas Beck’s Tours, Deep Dives & Souvenir Maps (handmade).

The ancient map they produced was older than any map I had seen. I itched to carbon date it.

The trident symbol on the corner matched a symbol on one of the arcane artifacts my father had collected over the years.
It was not hard to convince me to join the excursion, but an uneasy nagging remained in the back of my brain when I mentioned the artifact.

My father’s collection was not something I shared. I remembered the overwhelming need to tell them. It was out before I could stop myself.

I scowled. I was forgetting something. I was jarred from my current thought as we entered the catacombs traveling faster than a human or dolphin should.

What should have taken more time than we had air, took only a few minutes, until we halted in front of a giant wall of gelatinous-light.

The existent of the paranormal in Moon Hollow was an accepted occurrence in a world that no longer believed in real magic.

I admit, when my companions grew fishtails for legs I freaked inside. The mystical children of Poseidon were a thing of legend. No one had ever seen one in my lifetime.

My dolphin friend vanished.

Jock and Raina took hold of my upper arms. One on each side. My inclination was to fight, instead, I remained passive. I wanted to know what was behind that wall.

Besides, I was the only one who could not breathe underwater. My senses were intact enough to know I’d be the loser here.

We crossed the barrier into another world filled with bright phosphorous light. The variety of fish more than I could count. Seahorses. LARGE seahorses. Not possible.

A voice answered. A hidden world under the sea. It is possible.

GET OUT OF MY MIND. This time I struggled. They released me. The floor sloped up. We swam until we could stand. Yup, they had legs again.

I removed my mouthpiece and mask. “Why am I here? You could have taken the artifact at any time.”

“Our magic energy is limited in this world.” The Mer-Fey Tia answered.

“Am I supposed to understand that? What do you want from me? Oh, wait. My artifact. You have that. You used magic to sway me, so why am I here?”

“One of the lost children of Atlantis must be present to awaken Poseidon. It has been 10,000 years since Atlantis sank. A few of their descendants still exist here.”

“I don’t have magic. I am not from Atlantis.”

“Ah, but you are, you carry the gene. It calls to the magic inside us, as does the artifact made in the Fey world.”

I knew I looked confused. I felt it. “What are we, cousins or something?”

“Or something.”

While we talked the Mer-Fey Raina had moved through the opulent sea palace to a titan size statue of Poseidon.

Give me the key mortal.

“Get out of my head. If they have voices so do you. Use it.”

Jock the closest, grabbed the watertight bag I had sealed the artifact in and tossed it at Raina.

I would have grabbed it back before he tossed it, but Tia was pointing a trident at me. The tips glowed blue. Easy to figure out it was a weapon imbued with Fey magic.

I acknowledge compliance with a nod.

The artifact was the size of a shoe box, many shades of gold and silver, in the shape of a large “P” with a trident as feet. There was a circle where trident met the tail of the “P”.

Raina inserted it into the navel of the statue.

Light exploded out from Poseidon in a concussion wave, much like a nuclear event depicted on television.

The wave of light hit me knocking me back into the water, out through the gelatinous wall, and into the depths of the catacombs.

The rock walls shook and crumbled. I shoved my mouthpiece back in and pull my mask on. I swam dodging falling rock trying not to get trapped until I ran out of oxygen That was the last thing I remembered.

***

I woke in my bed. I was alone. The ancient map the Mer-Fey showed me on my nightstand. My body tingled. Something was off.

I turned on the news. Reports of minor quakes on the Isle of Moon Hollow and the Florida peninsula filtered out. A small tidal wave had hit the Florida shore.

I walked to the nightstand and picked up the map. I had to find those catacombs again.

There was a knock at my door. The tingle in my body increased. Opening the door, I stood face to face with Poseidon whose head brushed the top of the door frame as he pushed past me.

“Child of Atlantis. You shall be my guide in this new world. I wish to see what has changed.”

TBC

STORYTIME BLOG HOP PARTICIPATES FROM AROUND THE WORLD.

Please give them a visit. Read their stories and leave a comment. We love hearing from you.

Secret by J. Q. Rose
Journal of Anah by J Lenni Dorner
The Vineyard at Mar Mozambique by Karen Lynn
Stealing Space by Barbara Lund
The Day I was Clever by Katharina Gerlach
Never kid a kidder by Angela Wooldridge
The Color Of… by Chris Makowski
Nightmare by Erica Damon
Pick Up Lines by Bill Bush
The Scorpius Gate by Sandra Fikes
V is for Vortex by Elizabeth McCleary
Bugs by Gina Fabio

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Storytime Blog Hop

Storytime Blog Hop April 25th, 2018 The Letter

Storytime Blog Hop April 25th, 2018

THE LETTER BY JUNETA KEY

Storytime Blog Hop April 25th, 2018

The Widow by Vanessa Wells Storytime Blog Hop April 25th

Storytime Blog Hop April 25th, 2018

The Widow by Vanessa Wells

Instinct Short Story

Instinct A Short Story

Storytime Blog Hop April 27th, 2016

INSTINCT

STORYTIME BLOG HOP PARTICIPATES APRIL 2016

POSEIDON’S ISLAND Short Story

Deep Dive Short Story

DEEP DIVE