Some of you know I make cake and other creations as well as fondant figurines. My poem incorporates some of my fondant characters from my children’s book, Haunted Halloween Holiday.
Collapsed confectionary
Picture caption: My fondant Count Sugular
Count Sugular starred with great delight
At the meringue tower, fluffy and light
Smacking his lips, he took a vampire bite
Looking up, he got a terrible fright
The confectionary had lost half its height
He knew with Witch Honey there’d be a fight
Picture caption: My fondant Witch Honey
This is a fun video I made last Halloween called Haunted Halloween Safari:
Picture Caption: Book cover of The Valley Walker featuring a young man and a dragon against a turquoise background
“Yeah, though I walk through the valley…”
Special Investigator Teri Altro is a hard-driving member of the Drug Interdiction Task Force. She is cold and aloof, with no room in her life for personal entanglements. No one is allowed to call her by her first name. No one is allowed to get close to her. Any form of physical contact is unacceptable to her, except when her body demands it. People who work with Altro respect her, but have learned to stay out her way. She carries a gun in her shoulder bag.
When Altro first notices the man staring at her, he doesn’t seem like anything special… just some guy in the drugstore. But when three men walk in the door to assassinate her, he kills them all with fluid ease, and so quickly that she doesn’t even have time to pull her own gun. The confrontation is so eerily violent that it leaves Altro wondering just who… or what… the man is.
Over the next four days she learns the man is John Walker Michaels, a man known to the Hmong of Laos as the Valley Walker, a man the army has classified as a deserter. He is an openly emotional man who draws her out of her shell and into the world of Hmong mysticism. At the end of this time… even after talking to him, learning his history and meeting his family… Altro can only shake her head when asked what he is like.
She had touched him and felt his warmth. She knew he was real. Or was he?
My review
The Valley Walker is the first novel I read by this author and it was an excellent read. The opening scene pulls you right into both the drama and the supernatural element of the story with a young soldier who is badly injured and who is being nurtured and cared for by an elderly woman. Her care is unorthodox and indicates the possession of the young man’s body by another power in the form of a Great Dragon.
From this highly exciting and evocative start, the story progresses to a setting in a pharmacy in the USA where a man is watching a woman he knows is named Teri Altro. He also knows that three men are coming to the pharmacy to kill her and he is there to intervene. The prospective killers are the soldiers of General Khun Pao, a drug lord who rules a heroine empire in Laos. From this point, the story plunges into a turbulent and fast paced battle between the man, called the Valley Walker who controls the Great Dragon in terms of Laos lore, and the drug lord and his soldiers.
Teri Altro is part of a team that has been appointed to try to track down and shut down the drug dealers. The entire team of interesting and specialised people become involved in Teri’s attempted murder and the aftermath. I particularly enjoyed Jessica Harmon, a young and beautiful woman who is part of the team. She is very clever, competent and hardworking and is also feminine and dresses beautifully. I enjoyed that presentation of female achievers as opposed to Teri who was the typical power dressing, ball-breaking woman who feels a need to present herself to the world in a masculine and unfeminine way. Hooray for Jessica as a great example of feminine and pretty females in high powered positions.
For the men, there is the mysterious Bill Mallory who appears to be a good man but does some strange and possibly questionable things throughout the book. There are also the two young men, Sam Lu and Doolee, who are both clever, innovative, loyal and good fun.
This book is imaginative, fast moving and packed with interesting characters who evolve and make surprising decisions. The Valley Walker has an influence over everyone he comes into contact with, both evil and working for justice. It is a fascinating storyline and, although complex, the story is well written and easy to follow.
The great expanse of water was captivating. It stretched on and on until it melded with the sky in a dark blue line far, far away. To the young girl, the light blue water that rose and fell, transforming into little waves topped with white curls as it neared the shore, looked welcoming and friendly. She had been warned that the water was not placid, it was like a living creature that had moods. There were strong back currents that could wash you right out to sea where you would drown. Sometimes, the happy wavelets turned into huge, towering water mountains that crashed onto the beach in a frenzy of swirling anger.
Despite the warnings, the ocean fascinated her. She watched it for hours, imagining that she was a mermaid swimming beneath its everchanging surface. So much space! So much freedom!
Endless blue expanse
Delights when in a calm mood
Symbol of freedom
Lillian’s d’Verse prompt is By the Beautiful Sea and Esther Chilton’s writing prompt is space. I have worked both prompts in my haibun.
Picture caption: This is the entrance to the underground hide
The door led to a long tunnel to the underground hide. It has a lovely view of the lake. What did we see in that creepy, underground space?
Picture caption: African spoonbill and its reflectionPicture caption: African spoonbill foragingPicture caption: Grey heronPicture caption: Grey heron at dawnPicture caption: Yellow-billed stork
As this post is all water themed, I decided to share an extract from my short story, The Behemoth’s Rage.
May 1488
The sun breached the horizon, spilling brilliant light across the sky and ocean. The water, an expanse of silver satin encrusted with clusters of glittering diamonds, paid homage, gracefully rising and dropping into curtseys.
The light unveiled the dark grey behemoth, seated on the shore. It illuminated her edges, turning them into a froth of lighter grey lace. Shards of brilliance splashed across her sombre mourning dress. The aging face of the immobile matriarch disappeared into thick golden edged clouds, leaving a headless hulk.
The ships inched closer, hugging the greenish brown coastline.
“It’s a titan,” Bartholomew muttered under his breath. “A female titan.”
As the bright disk moved higher into the pale blue sky, the beauty leached from the bulky figure, leaving it in gloomy shadow.
From the deck of the first ship, Bartholomew watched the glistening water. Inky shadows moved beneath its shining face. He gazed into the depths, face wrinkled with perplexity, as the dark forms slipped through the water. Hundreds of them. Great fish with swirling hair and female bosoms.
“What are they?” he asked the grizzled man standing next to him. António was also staring at the frenzied mass beneath the calm veneer.
“I’ve no idea,” António whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
The water in front of the ships exploded.
WWWWAAAAAAHHHHHH!
One of the men let out a fearful wail.
Creatures, half fish, half women, shot into the air, shards of light reflecting off their gleaming skin and powerful tails. They looped elegantly and disappeared back beneath the waves.
The water seethed and frothed.
A sharp gale sprang up, expelling the gentle zephyr that had accompanied the dawn. It whistled, grasping at the boiling sea, and threw great handfuls into the air. Stinging spray whipped across the decks, slashing the men.
The ocean foamed, swirling ferociously. Beyond the jagged rocks and white sand of the shoreline, the monster watched her children perform with vicious glee.
Female heads bobbed on the churning surface, skin pale and perfect, long hair streaming with salt water.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” António gasped.
Bartholomew, gazing at the spectacle in growing horror, made no reply. The beauty of the creatures made his nerves tingle with anticipation, but they also repulsed him. Their overt sexuality was overwhelmingly desirable, but simultaneously bitterly objectionable.
Wednesday Sept. 11 – Carla Reads – Guest C.R. Johansson
Thursday Sept. 12 – Undawnted – Guest Paul Kane
Friday Sept. 13 – Writing to be Read – Guest Matt Usher
The Giveaway
Follow the tour and leave a comment at each stop you visit to let us know you were there and earn an entry in the giveaway for a free digital copy ofTales From the Hanging Tree.
About Tales from the Hanging Tree
Picture caption: Cover of Tales from the Hanging Tree featuring a dominate tree with a noose against a grey background
There exists a tree that is timeless, spanning across all dimensions, which absorbs every life as those who are hanged as they die… and it remembers every one. The stories within are a select few of the Tales From the Hanging Tree.
Tales from the Hanging Tree is a wonderfully dark, themed anthology which revolves around an ephemeral and timeless hanging tree that absorbs the memories of all hanging victims. This WordCrafter Press anthology was created by invitation only and includes stories from authors Kaye Lynne Booth, Paul Kane, DL Mullan, C.R. Johansson, Joseph Carrabis, Sylva Fae, and Matt Usher.
Purchase Tales from the Hanging Tree here: Purchase link
Picture caption: Promo banner featuring “The Legend of Cottonwood Hollow”
When The Pretty Reckless came out with their long awaited album, Death by Rock & Roll, with the song “My Bones” there is one stanza which caught my attention:
“The birds, they all know it.
They showed it to me.
Forgotten by man,
there stands an old hanging tree.”
This got me thinking one morning . I had a boss once, who was fond of saying how interesting it would be to be a fly on the wall in her office to listen to everyone who came in to speak with her. That fly could tell some stories, and it occurred to me that like that elusive fly, so would a such a tree, if it absorbed the life memories of its victims. And so, the idea for Tales From the Hanging Tree was born.
My tree is ephemeral and timeless, so the scope of its stories spans throughout time, with tales from early times, such as that of Sylva Fae, “The Devil’s Mark”, which deals with the hangings of innocents accused of witchcraft, to a futuristic hanging tale, by new comer, Matt Usher, “Death for Sale”. I had never done a call for a themed anthology before, and I was pleased with the stories that it produced, although I had to put out a second call out, when I didn’t receive enough from the first one. I ended up with tales of cursed trees in “Mercy”, by Joseph Carrabis, and “Therion’s Heart”, by C.R. Johansson, and my own, “The Legend of Cottonwood Hollow”, and tales of cursed people in “The Hanging Men”, by Paul Kane and “Twelve Angry Dead”, by DL Mullan. To round things out, I threw in a short story, “The One That Got Away”, which is a retelling of the hanging of my character, Delilah, who hangs and lives to tell about it, but not before her memories are absorbed by the hanging tree.
These stories are dark tales of hangings, but they are so much more. They are stories of lives lived, and spirits beyond. I hope you will pick up a copy and give them a try. I think you may be surprised by what you discover in these eight original and unique Tales From the Hanging Tree.
Picture caption: Promo banner featuring “The One That Got Away”
About Kaye Lynne Booth
Picture caption: Author photograph of Kaye Lynne Booth
Kaye Lynne Booth lives, works, and plays in the mountains of Colorado. With a dual emphasis M.F.A. in Creative Writing and an M.A. in Publishing, writing is more than a passion. It’s a way of life. She’s a multi-genre author, who finds inspiration from the surrounding nature, her love of the old west, and other odd and quirky things which might surprise you.
She has short stories featured online and in several anthologies in addition to her published works mentioned above. She has served as a judge for the Western Writers of America and sitting on the editorial team for Western State Colorado University and WordFire Press for the Gilded Glass anthology and editing Weird Tales: The Best of the Early Years 1926-27, under Kevin J. Anderson & Jonathan Maberry. Her books are available in both digital and print editions at most of your favorite book distributors.
In addition, she keeps up her authors’ blog, Writing to be Read, where she posts reflections on her own writing, author interviews and book reviews, along with writing tips and inspirational posts from fellow writers. Kaye Lynne has also created her own very small publishing house in WordCrafter Press, and WordCrafter Quality Writing & Author Services, where she offers quality author services, such as publishing, editing, and book blog tours.
In her spare time, she is bird watching, or gardening, or just soaking up some of that Colorado sunshine.
Picture caption: doors into our treehouse. You can see me in the reflection.Picture caption: Door into our camping drinks cabinet in the roomPicture caption: View of our tree housePicture caption: TC and I. I am wearing my new multi coloured mini multi focal glasses.
d’Verse prompt: Just for Laughs
Mich is the host of this d’Verse prompt, Just for Laughs. Thank you, Mich.
Just write to the theme of laughter, wherever that leads you.
Well, my mind always goes in one direction, so today, I’ll introduce you to the very rare brown hyena which I managed to see and photograph during our recent trip to Madikwe Game Reserve.
Picture caption: Isn’t he gorgeous? One of three brown hyena adolescents.
I never laugh
I seldom vocalise
I never laugh
I make grunts and growls and cries
*** Marked as near threatened, I’m rare
So, seeing me is rare
Recognisable due to my dark brown coat
With its long and shaggy hair
*** Some hyenas do laugh, it sounds maniacal
It’s not a real laugh, not happy or joyful
This method of communication is creepy
A loud high-pitched hee-hee-hee
Spotted hyena, loudest animal on earth
***
I live in a clan
Of solitude I’m a fan
A small family group
Is what I like best
***
Clan hierarchy maintained
Our offspring are trained
***
I am a nocturnal animal
Hunting and feeding at night
I cache excess food in shrubs or holes
Retrieving it within twenty-four hours
Being one of my main goals
***
I never laugh
I seldom vocalise
It’s only with family
I ever socialise
***
My communication
Includes aggressive displays
And mock fights
Which my status conveys
Picture caption: The brown hyena looks a lot like a dogPicture caption: This picture shows the shaggy dark brown coat of the brown hyenaPicture caption: Isn’t he amazing?Picture caption: brown hyena returning to the waterhole
In case you didn’t recognise it, this is the song on which this parody is based:
I am behind with blogging as I was away for a long weekend and came home to a medical emergency with my aunt who was hospitalised during my absence. The ICU diagnosed her incorrectly as she was taken to a different hospital from our usual one and the doctors had none of her medical history. Anyhow, I discharged her yesterday as she was in a terrible state and she’s now recovering in her room at my house.
Note: Cheetah cubs mimic honey badgers in appearance. They have a thick silvery-grey mantle running down their backs that gives them the appearance of a honey badger. This is a form of camouflage and makes the cubs look like an animal known for its fierce and fearless nature. Cheetah cubs are at risk of being eaten by most other predators so this honey badger disguise acts as a deterrent to potential predators giving them a better chance at survival.
Picture caption: Cubs enjoying their impala killPicture caption: The white fuzz on hair down the cubs backs can be clearly seen in this picturePicture caption: Mama Cheetah and her cubs all feeding
Picture caption: Close up of one of the cheetah cubs that walked away from the kill for a short period.
The Haibun Monday prompt for d’Verse is hosted by Frank J. Tassone.
“Wherever you are, & however you’re inspired, savor the seasonal shift most relevant to you. Then write a haibun that alludes to seasonal shift as you see it.”
Seemingly overnight, the garden exploded into spring. Flower shrapnel brightened every flowerbed, pot, and even hidden nooks and crannies. African bees, small and aggressive, hummed as they fed from dark purple irises, clivias, and jasmine. Gathering in clusters on the delicate white blossoms of the twin plum trees, so reminiscent of Anne’s ‘White Way of Delight’, the bees pollinated with loud enthusiasm.
African bees buzz
Ferocious pollinators
Fearsome but needed
Picture caption: My watercolour painting of an African bee.Picture caption: Photograph of an African bee on plum blossoms by Robbie Cheadle
Sunday Stills: Before and After
Terri’s prompt for Sunday Stills is Before and After. I am showing pictures of my spring garden with the buds transitioning into flowers. I also have a picture of Michael and my mom on the day he was born and now.
PIcture caption: Clivia with some buds and some flowersPicture caption: Banks roses, in bud and in flowerPicture caption: Jasmine in bud and in flowerPicture caption: Purple irises in bud and in flowerPicture caption: My mom holding Michael in the hospital wardPicture caption: A recent photograph of my mom and Michael
This Collection of Poetry is entirely about love. I hope you enjoy reading the contents herein. What does the word “love” conjure up to you? Everyone has a different take on it. I have even heard it described as a mental illness! I would not know in that respect, but I will leave you with this thought. “The armour we wear is designed to see who cares. Love is a battlefield. We should choose our wars carefully”.
My review
Ephemeral Encounters is a delightful collection of love poems. I am always fascinated by poets descriptions and interpretations of this particular human emotion. It has been, and continues to be, responsible for so much woe among people and has even been responsible for the fall of nations and the starting of wars. I am a very practical person so the turbulent and intense aspects of romantic love have passed me by, but I endlessly try to understand it and this compelling collection certainly helped.
The poet has examined romantic love in all its permutations, writing about the good, the bad and the ugly of the experience. The poems are personal, entwining imagery from day-to-day life which is very relatable. The poems are also beautifully written.
One of my favourite poems from this collection, which demonstrates what I have said above, is Threads: “We are all pieces of threads each one of us as fragile as the rest. Waiting for someone to sew us to their hearts and keep us there no matter what. Many of us will end up in a box with all the other loose threads no one wanted. At some juncture in the future, discarded. We are the loose ends of life never intended to be someone’s lover or wife. Just a piece of threat that could not find a needle in the sewing box of life.
The emotion in this poem is so raw and it is so very heart rending.
If you have ever been in love, or would like to be, this book of passionate poems will resonate with you. Highly recommended.
roberta-writes.com 