Thriving Thursdays: Willing Instead of Wishing

Welcome everyone. I’m visiting our wonderful Story Reading Ape.  I’m there to encourage you to thrive.  However, I’m on the run from one campus to another at work today, and it will be hard to keep up.  So please leave comments at Chris’ blog here.  And please be patient with me.

Thriving Thursdays: Willing Instead of Wishing

Did you ever throw a coin into a fountain?  Make a wish when you blew out the candles on your birthday cake?  How about wishing on a star?  I honestly do hope your wish came true.  

Wishes are akin to dreams, so I’m all for them.  Keep wishing.  As someone once said, don’t just dream (wish) big — dream even bigger!

However… for many of us, wishes just don’t come true.  “Willing” is a different matter.  Whatever your wish is, will it.  Focus.  Be definite.  Be persistent.  Will it into existence with every last little gray cell in your brain.

“Riches do not respond to wishes.  They respond only to definite plans, backed by definite desires, through constant persistence.”   Napoleon Hill

So whatever “riches” means to you, don’t wish for it.  Will it.

Have a thriving Thursday,

Teagan

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

Jazz Age Wednesdays 19 ― Pip & Artie Meet Again – Part 3

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

The New Year’s celebration is finally wrapping up, here at Jazz Age Wednesdays.  Chris Graham, the Story Reading Ape! collaborated on a story with me that started here.  I couldn’t resist keeping the tale going for a few episodes.  However, today I present my conclusion.

Part-1 (here) began with Chris’ character, Artie — a genius time traveler chimpanzee determined to meet up with Pip again.  In Part-2 (here) we left Artie and Mona being pursued by the police.  Now, the conclusion.

Pip and Artie Meet Again

Part 3 — Conclusion

1920s Dance Party

The Christmas tree still stood in the parlor corner.  Granny and I had made the decorations for it.  I frowned at the strings of popcorn, remembering how many times I stuck my finger with the needle when I made them.

Light reflected on the German-made glass ornaments of which my grandmother was so proud.  They were shaped like things from a Nativity scene, although there was one I just couldn’t identify.  To me, it looked a lot like a motorcycle, but that couldn’t be right…

The shiny ornaments reminded me of that labradorite pendant I found at the corn maze site.  I thought it would look darb with my costume.  So, I hurried to my room and took the gem out of my little jewelry box and hung it around my neck.1925 Theatre Magazine jade necklace jewelry

A loud peal of thunder shook the cottage.  I figured Miss Olive’s prediction of a severe storm was about to come true.  Then I heard the coppers’ sirens, so I hurried to the parlor window. 

Sure, enough it was a police vehicle.  A Ford was right behind it.  Oddly, I couldn’t see anybody they might have been chasing.  Both automobiles slowed and stopped.  A tall man got out of the Ford and talked to the officers for a moment.  He made broad, frustrated seeming gestures as he spoke.

The man was Detective Dabney Daniels.  He headed up the walkway as the police vehicle turned around and drove away.

At the same moment I heard a loud commotion from outside, in the backyard.  I felt the need to see what that was, but I knew Granny would have my hide if I didn’t politely answer the door.

I met Daniels at the door and asked what was happening.

“Some hood on a motorcycle got balled up and went the wrong way on a one-way street near Union Station.  Speeding too.  There was a flapper on the back of the bike.  When he headed this way, for a minute I thought the girl might be you.  Then I saw she had dark hair,” Daniels said as he took off his fedora hat.  “Anyhow, I don’t know how he managed it, but he gave us the slip.”

Durrusehvar, daughter of the last Caliph of the Ottoman dynasty, circa 1920

Princess Durrusehvar, circa 1920

He finally noticed my attire and looked at me like I must have escaped from the looney bin.  People were wild for anything to do with Egypt or the Orient.  So, I wanted my costume for the party to be from either one or the other.  I finally put together a costume that looked like Dürrüşehvar, an Imperial Princess of the Ottoman Empire.

It bugged me to death that nobody knew who I was.

“I’m on duty,” Daniels began, but looked hopefully toward the hallway.  “I can only stay a moment.”

“Everyone is either in the dining room or the kitchen getting food,” I told him.  “Go on back and make yourself at home.”

Movement at the corner of my eye caused me to glance out the window again.  Cinnamon Bun! 

Granny’s Flemish Giant rabbit shouldn’t be out of his hutch, but there he was in the front yard.  I guessed that was what the noises I heard out back were.  Then I saw two people chasing him ― a man in a suit that made me imagine a formal military uniform from some strange country and a flapper.

(See more about Cinnamon Bun here.)

“Mona!” I cried and ran outside.

“Pip!” my friend exclaimed and hugged me.  “I remembered you describing Cinnamon Bun in your letters.  I knew your grandmother wouldn’t want him running around, so we were trying to catch him.  We ran into his hutch when we… err… when we stopped,” Mona told me in a rush.

Cinnamon sat up tall on his haunches when the man offered him a treat.  I could tell the big bunny liked the guy.  Then he turned toward me and took off his cap.  He grinned when recognition spread across my face.

“Artie?”

“I had to do a mini-jump with my portable time machine to evade the police,” Artie said sheepishly.  “When we popped back, we bumped the rabbit hutch.  I sincerely apologize.  Nothing was harmed, but the door was knocked open, and this magnificent rabbit got lose.”vintage bunny

“Pip, it’s amazing!  Who’d of thought I’d meet a talking chimpanzee!” Mona enthused.  “And travel in a time machine!”

Artie looked embarrassed.  I could tell that he was humble for a genius.

“The time machine still has some bugs in it.  It had trouble locking onto the transponder, but I see you found it,” he said with a grin as he motioned toward my labradorite pendant.  “So, Mona and I accidentally took a detour to Germany, a decade or two ago.”

Artie gave me a bright-eyed look and in a devil-may-care tone asked me when I’d like to visit.  With all of the world and all of history to choose from I was dumbfounded.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mona asked.

“Your costume gives me an idea.  Would you care to see the Ottoman Empire and meet the real Begum Sahiba Hatice Hayriye Ayşe Dürrüşehvar Sultan?” Artie offered.

He knew!  This talking, time traveling, genius chimp knew who my costume was supposed to be!

“No phonus balonus?  We could really go there?” I asked.

He nodded and Mona grinned.

“Granny Phanny will never even know you were gone,” Mona winked and told me.

“You realize of course, that you can’t tell anyone about this escapade,” Artie told me with a regretful expression in his big brown eyes.

“I guess they’d think I was spifflicated if I did,” I muttered.  “Okay.  Let’s get a wriggle on!

The End

Horsefeathers!   It’s too bad Pip can’t tell anyone about her time travel adventure.  I guess that’s why it is not mentioned in her novels!  I’ll leave all you sheiks and shebas to imagine the endless kinds of trouble Pip, Artie, and Mona got into for that little jaunt through time and space.  Thanks for visiting.  You’re the cat’s pajamas!

Now, for that shameless self-promotion… Here are the links to the books about Pip and her friends. 

Bijou front only 2

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

Novel-book-The Three Things Serial Story-Teagan Riordain Geneviene-The Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-spotlight-author

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle 

 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam 20 — Hanging by a Hair

Saturday, January 13, 2018

I’m glad to see you were able to come back to Thistledown.  This episode is a brief return to the point of view of Bedlam Thunder. 

Sparkler hands be the spark

Previously in the Etheraris Spiregris

To review episode 14 click here*.

River turned to the next page and the hair sparked, shocking me yet again.

 “Do you think this is the one?” River asked excitedly.  “A Perversion of Phantoms,” she read aloud the title at the top of the timeworn page. 

 At River’s words the long muskox hair fell limp against the page.  My hand dropped, resting against the page as Rhymer and I echoed River in stating the name of the spell.  All three of us happened to be touching the pages of the incantation as we spoke.

 “The name of the spell reminds me of how we were talking about learning whether people had disappeared from Thistledown.  Missing faeries being like phantoms,” River continued.

 The three of us exchanged a look.  It was spontaneous, a coincidence.  We didn’t mean to speak in chorus but as one we gasped.

 “A Perversion of Phantoms!”

 Abruptly the heavy volume snapped shut.  The periwinkle muskox hair was still within, like a bookmark.  The room spun wildly.  It was like looking into a kaleidoscope. 

 Then the world shattered. 

 Quickly I moved my hands away from the book and caught the hands of River and Rhymer. 

Thistledown

Midsummer Bedlam 20

Hanging by a Hair

Face in water blue

Vivid black.

How could black be vivid? I wondered dizzily as I spiraled.

Then I remembered that while black was the absence of all light, it was the presence of all color.  I supposed it could be vivid at that.

Though I could see nothing, the world around me seemed to toss and turn.  Nausea surged.  I tried to put a hand over my mouth, but something restrained me.  Then I remembered Rhymer Rainbow and River Mindshadow… and the Etheraris Spiregris

The magically charged periwinkle colored muskox hair was tangled around my wrist.  I remembered being snared by it just as the ancient tome snapped shut and the world seemed to shatter.  River had been trying to free me from the muskox hair, so she already held onto my arm.  If Rhymer had not reached for my hand at the same moment that I caught hers, I wouldn’t have been quick enough.

At first, I was blind.  It felt like I was falling, yet not moving.  After a while, I could see vague forms from the soft purplish glow of the special muskox hair.  I recognized the shapes as my friends.

Abruptly the sensation of falling became a sharp yank.  The three of us were jerked upward, but then the motion stopped.  I heard a scream.

August_Malmström_Dancing_Fairies

August_Malmström_Dancing_Fairies

“I can’t stay put.  Something’s got my foot!” Rhymer cried.

Even as I felt my grip on the rainbow-haired faery’s hand begin to slip, I felt River move so she could reach Rhymer’s other hand.

“By something woolled I’m being pulled!  I’m being wrangled, it’s got my ankle!” Rhymer gasped as her hand was yanked free of mine.

“Rhymer!” I heard River shriek, and knew that she had also lost hold of our friend.

I heard Rhymer’s muffled voice, but her words made no sense to me.  It sounded like she said the wool was sprinkled with lights that twinkled.

“River, you’re much faster than me.  Go get her,” I said.

“We shouldn’t get separated!” River exclaimed in a torn sounding voice.

River let go of my hand and I felt relieved, thinking she would try and help Rhymer.  I was an awkward flyer at best, and with my half-healed wing I would be a hundred times worse.  I couldn’t make the choice for River, but I felt she should go after Rhymer.

However, River merely shifted her hold from my wrist to my ankle.  Her free arm flailed as she felt around the darkness for Rhymer.

“Rhymer, say something!  Where are you?” she yelled.

“I’m still here,” Rhymer said with a grunt.  “But not for long I fear!”

Her voice sounded as if she was being forcibly yanked backward.

“You said ‘woolled’ ― did you mean something wooly has you?” I called.

Rope Bare feet Dark_eva-blue-42498

Eva Blue, Unsplash

“A vast wool rope.  I’m held too fast to cope,” she replied, but sounded farther away.

“River, if you don’t go now, it will be too late,” I sobbed.  “I can’t see her anymore.”

“Oh!” River cried in epiphany.  “I have it.  This way I can still find the way back to you.  Just don’t get untangled.”

Then River took off her belt and looped it around the periwinkle colored muskox hair that was firmly tangled around my wrist.  She held onto the other end of the belt.  Despite the awkward position it caused, she flew quickly in the direction we thought Rhymer had gone, but remained close to the hair that would lead back to me.

For a short time, I could see a vague shape that I knew was River, illuminated by the glow of the magical hair.

“River?” I called.

“I’m still following the muskox hair,” she replied, but she sounded so far away.  “I think I see Rhymer.  Maybe.  I’m not sure.”

I don’t know how to describe it.  Perhaps it had to do with my supposed “gift” as a seer.  Or maybe the air pressure was displaced by something large coming into our presence.  That’s how it felt ― like something else was added to the space where we were.

River screamed.

Then I heard a grunt, as if the air was knocked out her lungs.  I no longer sensed the large presence that came so suddenly.  It left as abruptly as it arrived.

“River?  River!  Rhymer!”

No one answered my calls.

The sensation of falling became more intense.  I felt I was moving faster, hurtling downward through darkness.

The End

***

 This Week’s Faery Namers

Click the links to reveal the identity of the namers.  Enjoy a visit to their fantastic blogs.

Rhymer Rainbow  https://whenwomeninspire.com/

River Mindshadow  http://www.authortranslatorolga.com/

Okay, I hear you yelling about the “cliffhanger” ending.  Is it really a cliffhanger if the character has stopped hanging and started falling?  I see that didn’t settle you down at all.  Fly over next time to find out what happens in The Crochet Circle.  Until then…

Hugs on the wing! 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene 

All rights reserved. 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

Jazz Age Wednesdays 18 ― Pip & Artie Meet Again – Part 2

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Clara Bow 1

Clara Bow as Mona the Movie Star

I’m still celebrating New Year’s here at Jazz Age Wednesdays.  You see, the pos-i-lutely darb, Chris Graham, the Story Reading Ape! collaborated on a story with me.  Chris started the tale in which my character Pip, and his character Artie get together. 

Sharing ideas with “the Ape” was such fun that I couldn’t finish the story in just one episode.  In fact, it’s turned into a mini series.  Last week, Chris gave this story a great kickoff.  (Read it here.) As for my part of the story, I won’t reach the finale until next week.  Anyhow, let’s get a wriggle on and go back to Artie and Pip.  Or at least to Artie…

Pip and Artie Meet Again

Part 2

Train woman porters packages

They say the devil is in the detail and that was pos-i-lutely the case during a moment that transcended time and space.  During that bedeviled instant, Artie put the finishing touches on his portable time machine.  Tinkering with gears and gizmos, he finally located the labradorite crystal.  He had left it in the corn maze, hoping that Pip would find it.  The labradorite would act as a transponder so that he could get back to Pip and finish their visit.

When Artie first met Paisley Idelle Peabody, he had been so tired that he fell asleep before they could finish their delightful conversation.  So, this time he made sure to take a nap.  When Artie woke up the other chimps were milling around, inspecting the amazing time machine.  Some congratulated Artie and told him he was a genius.  A few though joked about his previous attempts at time travel, the tries that had not turned out so well.  Others made fun of him for having any interest at all in the flapper from days long gone.  Artie steadfastly ignored them.

Amid oohs and ahs from the other chimps, Artie checked the time machine settings and locked down the leavers.

In that same vexed moment, Paisley Idelle Peabody took off the labradorite pendant that she had found.  She placed it inside a small jewelry box made of etched lead crystal within a lead frame with a turtle carving of the same metal on the lid.

1925 Theatre Magazine jade necklace jewelry

Artie’s instruments were befuddled by the lead surrounding the transponder crystal.  Once again, his destination was slightly altered.  Fortunately, his portable time machine was also a motorcycle. 

He switched the machine to vehicular mode.  Just down the road, he could see Savannah’s Union Station.  Artie could get his bearings from there, and maybe even directions to Pip’s house.

A street car barreled toward him.  He was so captivated by the ancient mode of transportation that he barely got out of the way in time.  The conductor shouted and said he must be zozzled.  Artie wasn’t familiar with the term meaning intoxicated, so he smiled and waved.

Then, coming out of the arched doorway of the station, he beheld the most dazzling human woman he had ever seen.  Not that she could interfere with his crush on Pip, but anyone had to admit the strange woman’s charisma. 

She tried to hail a cab, but it already had an occupant.  She pushed back her dark brown bob in an annoyed gesture.  The beaded fringe of her flapper gown swayed as she stepped back up onto the curb.  The driver stuck his head out the window and whistled at her saying, “Hey, hotsy-totsy!  I’ll be back!”

The woman looked frustrated.  She muttered something that sounded like, “Bushwa!

Artie Portable Time Machine cycle

Image courtesy of Chris Graham

Artie stopped his machine and stared at her, amazed.  His eyes widened and his jaw dropped when she hurried over to him.  He was so bewitched that he forgot that the people of the Roaring Twenties did not know about genius, talking chimps.

The brunette flapper barely reacted to his appearance, hesitating only briefly before smiling.  Artie finally remembered himself and pulled the visor of his cap down to cover his face as much as possible.

“Oh!  You must be heading to a New Year’s Eve costume party.  You look swell.  Why, your costume is even better than the ones they make in Hollywood!” she told him in a rush.  “I wonder, could you give me a lift?  The cabs are pretty busy on New Year’s Eve.  It’s not far ― the Peabody place.”

Artie gave her a toothy grin. 

“Of course, you must be Mona, ‘the movie star’ ― Pip’s best friend!” Artie exclaimed.

(There’s a little more about Mona in this chapter from The Three Things Serial Story, click here for the chapter.)

He remembered Pip’s words that men would do anything for Mona.  It was easy to see why that would be the case.  However, Pip had also said that Mona never “lead anyone on.”  Artie believed that too.  He could see the kindness in the dark-haired flapper’s eyes.

“Oh, you know Pip!  Then everything is Jake.  Come on, let’s blouse!” Mona cried and climbed onto the back of what she thought was a motorcycle.

Unfamiliar with traffic laws in the USA, or the 1920s for that matter, Artie drove on the wrong side of the road.  Luckily there weren’t many automobiles on the road.  There was, unfortunately, a police vehicle.  It turned and gave chase. 

Sirens blared.

1920s Police car

***

End Part 2

Applesauce!  Will the coppers catch Artie and Mona?  What would they do with a motorcycle riding talking chimp?  Will Mona replace Pip in Artie’s affections?  You’ll have to ankle back to the Jazz Age again next week to learn more. 

Thanks for visiting.  You’re the bee’s knees!

Now, for that shameless self-promotion… Here are the links to the books about Pip and her friends.

Bijou front only 2

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

Novel-book-The Three Things Serial Story-Teagan Riordain Geneviene-The Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-spotlight-author

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle 

 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene.

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam 19 — Songbirds & Battleaxes

Saturday, January 6, 2018

Featured Image -- 21891

It’s a new year here in the blog world, and I hope yours had a great beginning.  This fae tale started in 2017, before Midsummer.  While months have passed for us, only a matter of days have gone by for Bedlam Thunder and her faery friends.  As winter’s cold nips I can pretend I’m in the warmer clime of Thistledown. 

I recognize that it is difficult to keep up with the details of this serial over such an amount of time.  Plus, some of you only started following recently.  So here are links for two episodes that would be good refreshers for today’s chapter — Episode 7, Doors and Doors*, and Episode 8, Shadows of Body and Mind*.  Events there should trigger your memory.  Or with this post, you can catch-up with links* to episodes 1 through 5. 

Previously from Bedlam’s point of view…

Finally Carver reappeared.  He held a huge copper ax…  Then Carver braced himself and swung the massive ax at the beautiful door he had created…  A sound like the entire world shattering filled my ears.

Thistledown

Midsummer Bedlam 19

Songbirds and Battleaxes

Fairy_Islands_1916_by_Ida_Rentoul_Outhwaite

Fairy_Islands_1916_by_Ida_Rentoul_Outhwaite

On tiny but speedy wings, Bob the hummingbird hurried to the cottage where he last saw Bedlam Thunder.  He knew something was badly out of balance.  Yet no matter how brave the heart, or how fast the flight, it was quite a distance for such a little bird.  Although Bob had to admit he had taken a detour or three.  It was no wonder his wings grew sluggish.

Far below, Bob spotted a faery with long dark blue hair.  Her wings were aqua with cobalt blue sparkles.  The hummingbird knew that was Holly Songbird.  Distracted by what he saw on the ground, Bob almost collided with Holly’s cousin, Poppy Songbird as she soared in playful flight.  Poppy back-winged and straightened her flower-shaped spectacles.

“Hi Bob!  Goodness, but you look all tuckered out.  Poor little guy.  You seem upset.  I wish I could understand hummingbirds,” she commented and stretched out a hand as she fluttered.  “Here.  Have a seat and you can fly with me,” Poppy said and Bob gratefully perched on her finger.

He got a tight grip and hung onto Poppy as she soared heavenward when her cousin sang a dramatic high note.  Poppy flew a daring loop and then performed a roll.

DCF 1.0

Holly Songbird was rehearsing for the big Midsummer party that Peaches Dragonfly was going to host.  However, Poppy was not performing.  She did the daredevil flying spontaneously, out of pure joy.

The two cousins were at the home of Carver Eastdoor, where he and Ivy Twinkle worked to re-create the amazing candy door that Carver had used a great copper battleax to destroy.  That act had somehow allowed Bedlam to return home from the colorless faery-verse when she inadvertently went there.  Bob worriedly wondered if something similar might have happened to Bedlam Thunder again.

The hummingbird darted to a nearby tree to rest.  He figured that he would get distracted by the small group of faeries and their work if he stayed too close.  He instinctively knew something was getting steadily more off kilter in Thistledown, and he was in a hurry to check on Bedlam.

However, hummingbirds can be flighty even when they have the best intentions.  He heard two male voices, Carver Eastdoor and Ivy Twinkle.  Before he knew it, Bob found himself listening to the conversation of the faeries. 

“You’ve certainly got the lift in your wings, Poppy,” Carver’s old friend Ivy Twinkle commented using a popular phrase.

Saks Fifth Avenue Christmas Dan Antion

Saks Fifth Avenue at Christmas, by Dan Antion

“It’s such a shame that Carver had to smash the first door.  But it was fun cleaning up all the candy ― not to mention eating it!” Poppy told him.  “Although I think that really was the only way to bring Bedlam Thunder back.  I can’t imagine being stuck in the colorless world she described,” Poppy added with a shudder.

She adjusted her flower-shaped spectacles and then turned to watch her cousin Holly begin to practice another song.

“I’m not sure my voice will be loud enough on the lowest notes,” Holly commented.  “Not if the crowd is as large as everyone expects.”

“No one will care,” Ivy Twinkle stopped his work hanging confections around the portal to tell her.

His eyes really did twinkle when he looked at Holly.  Bob thought perhaps Ivy was a little bit star struck.  She was one of the biggest celebrities in Thistledown.  Carver elbowed his old friend in the ribs and cleared his throat.  Ivy pretended not to know what Carver meant.

“Don’t worry,” Carver told the songstress.  “The acoustics will be perfect once everything is finished.  Thanks for getting the Dragon’s Nest band to help transport the stage to Peaches’ orchard.”

“The band is always happy to lend a hand.  After all, it’s for our performance,” Holly assured him.  “So, it should be us thanking you.”

Red Smoke_ Wong Unsplash

Warren Wong, Unsplash

Unexpectedly, something large and red barreled across the sky toward them.

“What in heaven’s name,” Holly began.  “I’ve never seen anything move that fast!  Is it a dragon?”

“It’s Field Yewwasp,” Carver said softly.  “Despite his size, there’s no one faster on the wing than the furry faery.  But I’ve never seen even him move so quickly.”

Field’s sense of urgency seemed to reach ahead of him.  Everyone stopped what they were doing and stood close together.

Carver’s toddler daughter came running out of the house giggling.  She couldn’t fly yet, but with every third step she fluttered upward.  It made for an adorable bounce-run.  Just as Field Yewwasp touched the ground and straightened his bright red coat, she barreled into him.  Field swept the tot up onto his shoulders.  She took his top hat and put it on her own head.

The child’s mother was not far behind.  She expertly detached the tot from Field ― although, he had to stoop down before anyone could reach the child.

“What’s wrong?” everyone asked in a multi tone round of voices.

Field turned serious eyes to Carver Eastdoor.  Carver’s brows furrowed suspiciously.

“Please don’t tell me I’m going to need to shatter another door.  This one’s nearly finished.  There’s no time to make another one before the Midsummer party,” Carver muttered insightfuliy.

“I don’t think so,” Field began in a noncommittal voice that did nothing to ease Carver’s mind.  “However, I saw that big copper battleax of yours in a vision.”

Thistledown had not known any sort of fighting, certainly not battles, in more generations than anyone could count.  The mere mention of the battleax elicited dread from the group of faeries.

Silence descended.

Bob had caught his second wind.  He darted into the sky, hurrying on his errand.  He was filled with worry about Bedlam.

The End

***

 This Week’s Faery Namers

Click the links to reveal the identity of the namers.  Enjoy a visit to their fantastic blogs.

Poppy Songbird  https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/

Holly Songbird  https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyWrV-dmm_oWHnc50YKSVnA

Carver Eastdoor  https://nofacilities.com/

Field Yewwasp https://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/about/

Ivy Twinkle  https://hughsviewsandnews.com/

Peaches Dragonfly  https://apuginthekitchen.com

Events are on the wing, whether large or tiny.  Fly over next time to find out what happens in Hanging by a Hair.  Until then…

Hugs on the wing! 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene 

All rights reserved. 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. 

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

Jazz Age Wednesdays 17 ― Pip & Artie Meet Again – Part 1

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

1925 Theatre Magazine jade necklace jewelry

Happy New Year to you from Teagan’s Books and Jazz Age Wednesdays!  Yesterday I was crowing when I saw Teri Polen’s review of Murder at the Bijou – Three Ingredients 1 (see it here. What a keen way to start the year!

With these Roaring Twenties posts, we’ll be putting on the Ritz as we ring in 2018.  I have an extra special treat for you this week.  An email exchange spontaneously turned into a short story — and guess who my coauthor is!  The pos-i-lutely fabulous, Chris Graham, the Story Reading Ape! 

In case you didn’t know, the Story Reading Ape is also a great storyteller.  This short story furthers a encounter between Pip, and a character Chris created, Artie — one of the chimps from Chris’ imagination.  Chris begins the tale from Artie’s point of view, and then I take over with Pip telling it.  Now, let’s get a wriggle on and go back to the Jazz Age.

Pip and Artie Meet Again At New Year’s

Part 1

Artie was devastated, he’d worked sooo hard to get his time machine to finally go back beyond the time he’d invented it.  (See the backstory here.)

Artie Formal Dress

Image courtesy of Chris Graham

He’d even met his heroine, Paisley Idelle Peabody, otherwise known as Pip.  (See: Pip in the Corn Maze).

Unfortunately, because he’d been working on his machine for three days and nights without a break and only ended up in the corn maze where Pip was, by accidentally leaning against the start lever, his tiredness had overcome him and he’d fallen asleep in mid conversation!

Luckily however, he’d been woken by the preset Emergency Visit Duration Countdown alarm and had jumped back into the machine before it returned to his own time without him.

His only hope now, was that Pip had spotted, and picked up, the labradorite crystal pendant.  Artie had intended to give it to her, but he must have dropped it while he was ponderating.  In addition to the stone’s natural protective properties, it would act as a transponder, so he could find her again, otherwise, he’d end up back in the corn maze.

First things first though, he needed to sleep, then start on a lighter, more portable, version of his time machine, in case he had to travel overland from the maze to Granny Phanny‘s place.

Next time, he would be better prepared…

***

2018 Pip New Year

The Savannah folks who organized the corn maze at Halloween planned a New Year’s bonfire party at the same location.  As usual, Granny Phanny found extra chores for me.

“Pip, there’s no use in sulking around just because you don’t have a young man to escort you to the New Year’s Eve party.  I thought you were a modern woman,” Granny baited me.  “You can still get all dolled up and have a good time.”

I sputtered an indignant protest, but words failed me.  As if I was some cancelled stamp, a wallflower!

It wasn’t as if I had been in Savannah long enough to know many people.  Alastair Wong would be working at his family’s restaurant.  Detective Dabney Daniels barely knew I was alive.  I guess there was Hank… but I had been avoiding Hank Hertz for two weeks, because I was pretty sure he was going to ask me.  I couldn’t go with Hank, he was just a kid!  Why, he was nearly two whole years younger than me.

1920s Illustration of Party

“If it makes you feel any better there might not be a party at all,” Granny grumbled at me.

My grandmother sounded like she was fixing to get in a lather.  I had not considered that she might be looking forward to the bonfire party.  However, I got the impression that she was disappointed.  I looked a question at her.

“Everybody who has rheumatism says bad weather is coming.  And the arm I broke when I was a girl has been achy,” she complained.  “And Miss Olive says there’s a big storm headed our way right on New Year’s Eve,” She continued despite my skeptical expression.

“Granny, isn’t that just a bunch of superstition?” I dared ask.

Granny Phanny’s eyebrows climbed toward her hairline.  I knew I was on dangerous ground so I dried up then and there.

“Miss Olive is never wrong about the weather,” Granny told me in a dire tone.  “So, we need to go over to where we had the corn maze and see about setting up some tents.”

(Meet Miss Olive here.)

studebaker1920_2

A moment later we were in Granny’s Model-T, puttering down the dirt road.  The live oak trees seemed more like evergreens than regular oak trees, but their leaves were kind of sparse.  Granny Phanny murmured a word of thanks that somebody had filled in the big pothole we had to avoid last time.

Granny walked around muttering under her breath as she sought suitable spots for party tents.  I thought keeping some distance from her would be a good idea, so I wandered around in the other direction.  I recognized the spot where the corn maze used to be and went poking around.

Nervously I looked over my shoulder, remembering the strange thing that happened there.  I never told a soul about it, but I wrote it all in a journal.  Maybe one day I could tell my pal Andy about it.  He went to Hollywood, California.  His talent for writing imaginative stories finally paid off.  Andy probably wouldn’t believe me either, but he’d like the story.  (Here’s a little more about Andy from the Three Things Serial Story.)

You see, that night I met a talking chimp.  I would never forget his words…

“Pip, I promise you I’m the real McCoy, as you would say.  I’m Aristotle, but I hope you’ll call me Artie.  I’ve traveled a long way through time and space to meet you,” the chimp had explained.

Lost in that strange memory, I idly stuck the toe of my burgundy and cream oxfords into a clump of leaves and debris.  Something sparkled, pulling me out of my reverie.  I bent to uncover it and picked up a crystal.

It was greenish gray with flashes of color.  I didn’t know a lot about semiprecious gems, but I thought it was labradorite.  The stone depended from from a long chain.  I hung it around my neck and put it inside my dress.

End Part 1

***

Oh yes… to be continued.  Here’s a sort of hint.  It turns out Chris and I share an interest in gemstone lore.  Labradorite is said to be a stone of magic, a crystal of shamans, diviners, healers, and all who travel and embrace the universe seeking knowledge and guidance.

Sorry! That’s as much of a hint as I’m giving.  Tune in again next week for the conclusion.

It’s so darb that you visited today.  Once again — Happy New Year!

Flapper Happy New Year champagne red

Now, for that shameless self-promotion… Here are the links to the books about Pip and her friends.

Bijou front only 2

Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I

Novel-book-The Three Things Serial Story-Teagan Riordain Geneviene-The Writer Next Door-Vashti Q-spotlight-author

The Three Things Serial Story: A Little 1920s Story Kindle 

 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene and Christopher Graham

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

Murder at the Bijou: Three Ingredients 1 by Teagan Riordain Geneviene #TuesdayBookBlog #CozyMystery

Happy New Year! You know I try to limit the number of posts I do, but there was no way I could resist sharing this lovely review of Murder at the Bijou.
I hope you’ll visit Teri’s blog and say hello to her. (I did not enable comments here… A sinus infection, nasty beast, sneaked up on me last night…)
Oh, and I have a special treat coming with this week’s Jazz Age Wednesdays — stay tuned.
You’re all the berries!

Books and Such

Long ago I developed a writing exercise. I would ask friends to give me three completely random things. Then I would write until I had mentioned all the things. I brought that exercise to my blog, but I had the readers send me their things. I let the random things drive every detail of a serial story, setting, plot, and characters. That resulted in The Three Things Serial Story, which gave birth to this culinary mystery. However, this time the “things” are food related — or ingredients.

As with the first serial, Murder at the Bijou — Three Ingredients I is a spontaneously written, pantser story. I let the “ingredients” readers sent each week drive every aspect of a new serial story. This is the “bookized” version of that serial.

This time the Jazz Age setting is Savannah, Georgia where our flapper, Pip is “sentenced” to live with her grandmother…

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