Jazz Age Wednesdays ― Hullaba Lulu 6

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Lulu looking tub bot Metropolis 9

A bath on Valentino’s train, by Rob Goldstein

Hey, Sheiks and Shebas.  Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays.  The weekly three things and images, from my “partner in crime” Rob Goldstein, spontaneously guide what I’m writing.  Last week he did an image of an Art Deco angel as part of my mystical diesel-punk train’s controls.  That caused me to see more of the train.  I can tell you, Valentino has one luxurious way to travel!

I guess this is a spoiler, but it has nothing to do with the plot…  I had already given the train a control room with mystical gizmos for navigation and communications, and then an automat.  Now I have deluxe sleeper cars — with attendants.  Between Rob and me, Lulu freaked out when she suddenly realized the bath had attendants… 

Lulu Towel run or dance botsMetropolis 5

Lulu and the Sleeper Car Attendants, by Rob Goldstein

Rob did another video for us (below).  I’m happy to be able to feature more of the artwork of Rob Goldstein

Here’s another fabulous video from Rob. Click for the full post.

Today we have Chapter 6 of the Roaring Twenties fantasy series, Hullaba Lulu.  The “dieselpunk*” train has reached Atlantic City.

Previously with Hullaba Lulu, Chapter 5

From Chapter 5

In the distance ahead, I could make out bits of the boardwalk.  I saw the great Ferris wheel and the tallest hills of the old Loop the Loop.

 “Hold on a minute!” I exclaimed.  “Atlantic City took down the Loop the Loop in 1912.  I’ve only seen it in photographs.”

 In the midst of the strange flashing lights, the tilt-a-whirl spun wildly.

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 6

The Garconne Look, Tarot Cards, Kodak Brownie

Burgers Lulu Recline

Lulu in the train’s automat… with cheeseburgers

The loudspeaker had a calm voice as it spoke, “Nearing destination.  Prepare to disembark.”

It was the slightest shift, but I felt the train begin to decelerate.  Suddenly excited, I wanted to remember this adventure forever.  Plus, that Loop the Loop — I needed a picture of that so people would believe it was there.

I ran down the corridor toward Gramps’ sleeper car, hoping he brought his Kodak Brownie with him.  When I came to the spiral staircase that went up to the control room, I paused to look up the stairs.  Everything seemed quiet and dark.  I figured everyone was getting ready to leave the train.

A moment later I was at my grandfather’s room, but he wasn’t there.  I saw his open suitcase on the bed and moved to see if the camera was there.  Gramps might not think to take it with him.

A soft click caused me to turn.  My eyes bulged at what I beheld.

Single angel-bot

Angel-bot by Rob Goldstein

“May I help you, Miss?”

“You’re an automaton!” I exclaimed after a stunned moment.  “A golden angel like the sculpture in the control room… but you’re an automaton.”

With halting movements he bowed.  His eyes blinked with another quiet click.

“I’m the sleeper car attendant.  May I help you, Miss?  Your companions have gone to the amusement park.  You will need these,” he said with a slight southern drawl.

He handed me a brown paper sack.  The aroma of the contents reached my nose before I opened the bag.  It contained several cheeseburgers.

“Oh, thank you, but I just ate,” I told him.

“Yes, I see,” he said and touched the side of my mouth with a white linen napkin embroidered with the letter V.  “There was a bit of mustard.  The cheeseburgers are currency.  You will need them.  You’d best hurry.  Your companions have already disembarked.”

I followed the golden angel-looking automaton into the corridor.  We had to step aside when three more of the clockwork creatures needed to pass.  I noticed they held various cleaning implements.  I stopped them, and asked a bunch of questions. 

Metropolis 3 inside train

Art by Rob Goldstein

Angel-bots! I thought in amazement.

“Hang on just a minute.  How many of you clockwork people are on this train?  And no offence, but you all look just alike.  How do I know one of you from another?  Do you have names?”

“There are sufficient numbers of us to assist in keeping the train in good working order and take care of all the passenger needs as well,” the sleeper car valet told me as the other three made soft clicking noises.  “We haven’t had a need for names, so we have none.”

When I stood speechless, another of them inquired in a voice touched by the Bronx, “May we assist you, Miss?”

I found it unaccountably disturbing that they all looked so much alike.  It reminded me of the time I met triplets when I was very young.  I wanted to give them all rhyming names like the triplets, but I wasn’t any kind of poet.

The first one, with the southern accent seemed to understand that something bothered me.

“We all look very much alike, except for the red-gold attendant,” he said.

The three housekeepers made mechanical chuckling noises.  He turned his placid face toward them.  I had the feeling that he would have blushed if he could.  I felt a little sorry for him.

Bot inside Metropolis 08

Bots, by Rob Goldstein

“She’s a hotsy-totsy!” he confessed with a shuffle of his feet.  “I tried to learn flapper language when I heard the train was going to Atlantic City,” he added, sounding entirely practical.

“Red-gold?” I asked.  “She must be Ginger then, and Hot Ginger because I think she’s your blue serge!  So, my friend, that would make you Dynamite.”

Suddenly inspired by the Nagasaki song I turned to the other three and stated, “That makes you three Wiki, Wacky, and Woo, like the song.”

“The song, Miss?” Dynamite asked.

Hot Ginger and Dynamite!  Somethin’ something’ and wicky wacky, woo!” I belted out a bar of the tune, or the part I could remember anyway.

For a moment there was silence.  Then I was surrounded by clicking noises.  They started chattering to each other.  I thought they were excited to have names.  I know ― everyone thinks clockwork creatures don’t have emotions, but I was there.  I was sure they liked having names.

***

Lulu hands behind head new dress

Lulu by Rob Goldstein

A familiar excited giggle drew me to a brightly painted booth.  Pearl had found a fortuneteller automaton.  It was much less sophisticated than the angel-bots on the train.  Its voice had no infliction as it prompted us.

“The gypsy knows all, sees all.  What would you divine?” it asked repeatedly as it spread tarot cards on the small table inside its booth.

“Go ahead, Lulu!  Ask it a question.  It gave me ‘the lovers’ card,” Pearl told me.

“You always ask about love, and they always tell you that you’ll find it.  I never know what to ask,” I complained.  “Oh, okay.  How is the Loop the Loop still here when it was taken down in 1912?  Did we go back in time?” I added in a softer voice.

The automaton stopped and looked right at me.  Something about the sudden change in clockwork movement gave me the heebie-jeebies.  The gypsy gathered the tarot cards and spread them again.  It drew out a card with a drawing of a man hanging by his foot.  The fortuneteller moved the card so that the man was laying down.

“Sideways,” was all the automaton said.

“We didn’t move east or west, or forward or backward…” I began.

“Sideways,” it repeated.

Morg-tom 031x

Rose and Tom dance, by Rob Goldstein

I gave a frustrated sigh.  Why couldn’t the blasted thing be useful?  I turned to Pearl and asked her where Rose was.  My fair-haired friend shrugged, then she giggled and asked the fortuneteller.

“Where is our friend, Rose?”

The gypsy automaton gathered the tarot cards, spread them, and turned over the Three of Swords.  The design on the card was like the leaflet I found in the automat.  There was an image of a heart pierced by three swords.  I shuddered.

“Betrayal,” the fortuneteller said.

The air was split by a loud scream.  The sound echoed around the amusement park.

“Rose?” I exclaimed.

I turned around, looking everywhere.  At first, I saw no one.  Then I saw a shadow that somehow made me think of the Ford with a bunch of G-men – or that’s what they looked like.  That was the night we met Tom Driberg.  I muttered his name.

Abruptly I realized that Pearl was gone.  She must have gone to look for Rose.  I took a breath to call for Pearl, when I the sound of feet pounding the pavement made me turn.

Lulu and Tom car

Lulu and Tom, by Rob Goldstein

“Speak of the devil,” I snorted.  “I should have known you were here when I glimpsed those G-men just now,” I told Tom Driberg.  “But how did you manage to get here”

“I heard Rose scream.  Where is she?” he asked.

He sounded suspiciously calm and I commented on the fact.

Tomato, didn’t anybody notice the handcar that hooked onto the end of the train?  I thought my stowaway jig was up when one of those clockwork angel things found me.  Anyhow, those weren’t G-men,” he told me in a voice tinged with contempt.  “Those are Russian agents.  They must have gotten to Margosha before I could.  I mean your friend Rose.  Margosha is her first name.  Rose is her middle name.  Didn’t you know?  Her monogram, MRM didn’t tell you anything?” he added with a condescending chuckle that grated my patience.

I looked around wildly for my friends.  Half panicked, I didn’t know what to do.

Rose Am I Blue

Rose, by Rob Goldstein

“Calm down.  They won’t hurt her.  They mean to use her to get to me.  You see, I quit them and they think dragging Margosha back into the spy business will force me to join them again.”

“What do you mean dragging her back?” I demanded.

The noise of screeching metal caused me to look away.  It sounded like something huge moving in a way that it had no business moving.  When I turned back to Tom, he was gone.  Twisting around in a circle I searched for any familiar face.  The scream could have come from any direction.  Tom could have run anywhere, so could Pearl.

Not knowing what to do, or where to do it, I started walking forward, farther into the park.  In the distance I saw a woman wearing the menswear inspired Garconne look.  Her face reminded me of one that I mostly knew from pictures.

I brought up the Kodack and aimed.  Abruptly she turned toward me.  I took the photo.

Lauren?

Lauren La Garçonne -1x

Lauren by Rob Goldstein

The woman who looked like my mother ran.  I followed.

Panting, I paused, hands on knees as I tried to catch my breath.  A brightly painted clown face marked the entrance to the tilt-a-whirl.  The clown had curved line for an innocent smile, and his eyes were little plus marks.  I looked beyond the sign to the ride.

I spotted her.

With a glance over her shoulder, Lauren did something, moving the levers on the ride’s controls.  She climbed onto one of the tilt-a-whirl cars.  It spun and turned, faster and faster.  Soon it looked like a blur.

Bright lights flashed.  Metal gears shrieked.  Green smoke poured from the machinery and the cars.  The tilt-a-whirl slowed to a stop.  No one was aboard the ride.  I ran to the car where Lauren had been.  It was as empty as all the others.

My eyes were drawn back to the clown sign.  The face had changed.  His eyes openly leered and his grin grin was vulpine, downright scary.  The gears of the ride groaned to a stop.

Pontchartrain beach Clown full face.png

***

The End

***

Well, I’m not sure what to say about that…  Except maybe that I will think twice before I get on a tilt-a-whirl again.  And where the Sam Hill did everybody go?

Next time, Chapter 7 — Pocket Watch, Pittura Metafisica, Bubblegum. 

 

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog.  You’ll find more fabulous images and videos there. 

Thanks for visiting.  You’re the oyster’s earrings! 

 

PS:  Remember my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka 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.

Artwork Copyright © 2018 by Rob Goldstein

Copyright © 2018 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 ― Hullaba Lulu 5.2

Wednesday, May 2, 2018

Hold the presses!  Update!

I had to include this masterpiece from Rob (above).  His best video yet.  It’s magical.  And it’s the cat’s meow!

Control room The Angel_0322-

The control room of Valentino’s train, by Rob Goldstein

Sheiks and Shebas, welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays.  This episode concludes Chapter 5 of the new series, Hullaba Lulu.  I seem to have a lot to say about Valentino’s train in this “diesel-punk” fantasy.  

Some of you will remember that early in my novella, The Three Things Serial Story, I imagined the voice of Lucille Ball narrating those tales.  I wanted Hullaba Lulu to have a much different “voice” or tone.  However, no narrator sprang to mind.  I imagine Lulu being genuine, slightly crass, and lovably snarky, sort of like a female version of Seth Meyers.  (See Late Night with Seth Meyers.)  I toyed with the idea of narrating a snippet but… I got shy.  Oh, what the hell.  Why not…

vAL Grams Station_0011x

Valentino in the abandoned subway, by Rob Goldstein

Happily we have more beautiful artwork from Rob Goldstein to punctuate this chapter.  I’m finally writing about the “three things” Rob sent for it.  The characters are now on that amazing train.  

A word of warning — this episode is a little longer than usual (1,790 words or so). Here’s the rest of what started last week. 

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

Last time Lulu overheard a strange conversation between her grand father and Valentino. It sounded like they’d known each other since before she was born — but Valentino was too young for that.  Lulu kept the puzzling exchange to herself.

Mysterious gifts were sent to Rose, probably from that shady journalist, Tom Driberg.  It prompted Valentino to say Rose wasn’t safe. Valentino offered to take the girls away.  To Lulu’s astonishment, her Gramps demanded to go along.

All aboard!

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 5.2

Automat, Cheeseburger, Tilt-a-Whirl

The train's automat, Lulu, Valentino, Pearl

Lulu, Valentino, and Pearl in the train’s automat. Art by Rob Goldstein

Valentino strolled down the railroad tracks.  He started playing that trumpet of his as he walked.  There was something about the music…  I couldn’t explain it, but the notes were more than just a tune.  My skin prickled with goosebumps.  I gave an involuntary shudder.  My grandfather glanced down at me.

The tension between Gramps and Valentino was out of character for him.  Gramps was usually easy going.  He never put any restrictions on me about revealing frocks or bobbed hair.  He said discipline should be saved for more important things.  So, his comment surprised me.

“Lulu, are you sure that dress is what you want to wear to travel?” my grandfather asked, but he turned away to answer a remark from Rose before I could say anything.

Pearl had changed into a printed dress of soft cream and gold with a wide sash at the dropped waist.  With her light blond hair, it made a classy monotone combination.  Rose wore a Chanel suit that I expected was one of the gifts from Tom Driberg.  I still didn’t understand what was going on with that situation, but I figured I’d find out eventually.

Pearl at Station-04-23-18

Pearl by Rob Goldstein

Anyway, when I looked down at my own clothes, I realized Gramps had a point.  However, it was too late for me to change.

The last notes of the melody Valentino played on his trumpet echoed in the tunnels of the abandoned section of the subway.  I heard a sound like an engine, but it didn’t sound like an ordinary train.  Then came the chugging of the wheels turning.  That sounded more like a train.  In a moment the sleek machine stood at the old station.

The train looked like something from the cover of “Science and Invention,” all sleek and polished.  When we boarded, I saw that the inside was even more fantastical than the outside.  The engine’s controls were unlike anything I had ever seen, even in scientifiction* stories.

I saw my Ouija board on the console and my temper flared.

Bushwa!  It was still mine, no matter what anybody said.  It had been mine for as long as I could remember.  I was feeling possessive and put upon.  I didn’t appreciate Gramps telling me that it belonged to Valentino, any more than I liked the sheik taking over it.

Lulu at Train BW

Lulu by Rob Goldstein

Sputtering and pouting, I watched in silence as the enigmatic man hooked the wooden board to the control panel of his train.

“Stop growling, would you please, Lulu,” Valentino muttered.  “If we’re to go anywhere I need to use the Ouija board.”

Okay, so I wasn’t completely silent, but it was only a little growl.

Valentino picked up my Ouija board and carried it to what at first appeared to be an Art Deco angel sculpture, but then I saw that it was part of the controls for the train.  He attached the Ouija board to the statue.

Something he touched sparked and popped.  Valentino jumped back with a muffled exclamation, shaking his hand as if he’d been stung.  I admit it was gratifying, but I swear I didn’t smirk.  Well, maybe a little.  Okay, I looked like a cat with a bowl of cream, but I put a neutral expression on my face before he turned around.

Valentino Angel color Setting Course-3

Valentino at the controls of the train

When I looked at the angel statue again, for a moment I could have sworn it winked at me!  I shook my head and blinked my eyes.  I couldn’t be zozzled.  I hadn’t had a drop of giggle water all day.  I moved to the angel, inspecting it closely.  Nothing moved, and it was cold to the touch, and still as a statue should be, not warm, living, and able to wink.

I hopped up onto the console of his Orthophonic Victrola and crossed my legs.  I leaned my head against its horn.  He made a face and cleared his throat as a hint.  When I wouldn’t take the hint, he motioned for me to move my gams out of the way.

“Be careful of the pavilion,” he cautioned.  “You might move the settings.  You wouldn’t want us to head down the garden path, would you?”

“The pavilion?  Oh, the horn?  So grumpy.  Do those pointy toed dog kennels hurt your feet or something?” I said just to poke him.

Valentino held a glass tube capped with metal on each end.  He was already a hotsy-totsy and being so intense with the scientific stuff ― that was so sexy! 

Valentino Trumpet_The Mystic_Dark-2

Valentino uses the trumpet to bring all the train’s controls in tune

I reminded myself that I didn’t want to feel that way and focused on the strange tube.  It was filled with glowing green liquid.  Valentino ignored me as he bent to touch the console, where a smooth brass plate bore an engraving of music symbols.  He pressed the plate and it opened to reveal the shining trumpet he played earlier.

Then he leaned over me to reach the Victrola.  When he removed the record I saw another of the glowing liquid filled tubes.  Valentino placed the tube he carried next to the one in the Victrola.  Then he put the trumpet to his lips and played a series of notes.  Harmonic sounds emanated from the tubes.

“Everything is in tune now,” he commented in a pleased tone.

He fiddled with knobs and switches, contentedly humming a tune I didn’t recognize.  The man was completely absorbed in his work.  I grew bored and left Valentino to his inventions.

Pearl and Rose surprised me when they seemed to be happy that my grandfather was coming with us.  They made quite a fuss over him.  The three of them went to the dining car.  I probably should have gone with them, especially since I was feeling peckish.  Instead, I went off on my own to explore the strange train.  I was used to having plenty of alone time.  I wasn’t sure how much I would like being confined on a train with five other people, all the way to Atlantic City.

Automat Clara Bow and man mix

Clara Bo (inset) Paramount Automat 1931

My heels clicked on a mosaic tile floor when I entered the next car.  The room was wall-to-wall chrome and glass.

Holy Hannah!  An automat!” I exclaimed, but nobody was there to share my glee.

It had everything from a hot cup of noodle juice to porterhouse steaks to jiggly gelatin in ritzy molds.  My stomach rumbled and my mouth watered.  I opened a little glass door and removed a plate of exotic Hawaiian pineapple upside-down cake.  I’d never tasted pineapple.  (Recipe and history here*.)

I felt a soft bump as the train traveled.  It wasn’t even enough to make me stumble.  It could have been from anything.  Then one of the compartment doors of the automat opened.  A newspaper fell out.  I bent to pick it up.  On the front page was an article by Tom Driberg about the society swells called the Bright Young Things.  Interestingly, the next story was not by Driberg, but about him.  There was no byline, but the writer insinuated that Tom was a spy working for the Russian government.

Bushwa!  Does Rose really have a history with that guy? 

She hadn’t admitted it, but I had become sure that Rose recognized him that night outside the speakeasy when Driberg was looking for someone named Margosha.  Plus, I had feeling that they were more than ships that pass in the night.

Morg-rose_019x

Tom and Rose, by Rob Goldstein

A leaflet fell out of the cubby where the newspaper had been.  It was an advertisement for a fortune reader on the boardwalk.  There was an image of a heart pierced by three swords.  The image was powerful.  It made me think of betrayal.

I gazed out the window as I thought.  There was nothing to see, the train was inside a tunnel.  There were large metal plates in the walls in the part we had been running through the last few minutes.  I could see a distorted reflection of the train in the metal.

For a second I thought I saw men hunched over a handcar that was right behind the train.  

No, that would be impossible!  There’s way a hand car could keep up with the train. 

The reflection was blurred and wavy.  I blinked hard and looked again.  However, the train had quickly left that part of the tunnel.  The shiny metal plates were replaced by brick walls.

Licking my fingers for the last sticky cake crumb, I was even hungrier than before.  A rattling sound caused me to turn to the other side of the automat.  Against that wall stood a long table.  A hatch door in the wall lifted, showing a conveyor belt.  It started cranking out plates holding cheeseburgers.

Burgers Lulu Recline

Lulu in the train’s automat… with cheeseburgers, by Rob Goldstein

Warm cheddar oozed from the steaming buns.  As the aroma drifted to my nose, my belly growled anew.  I had eaten three of the burgers before I realized I had even finished one. 

Suddenly lights began to flash.  Electric loudspeakers that were installed in every car of the train began blaring part of the song Don’t Bring Lulu!  Rose and Pearl had harnessed me with my nickname, Hullaba Lulu, because of that blasted song.

The sound of running feet preceded the appearance of pointy toed patent leather shoes.  Valentino skidded into the automat.  He looked from me to the empty plates in astonishment.

The loudspeaker shouted, “Don’t bring cash honey.  You pay in cheeseburgers!”

“Lulu…” he began but seemed at a loss for words.  “We needed those cheeseburgers for Atlantic City.”

“There’s plenty to eat there,” I mumbled around the last bite of burger.

“Cheeseburgers are as good as money where we’re going.  It’s not the Atlantic City that you know,” he told me.

1928 Sunnyside Amusement Park

1928 Sunnyside Amusement Park

“Huh?” I replied as I swallowed.

I burped, but I had the decency to blush.

“Excuse me…”

Sunlight flooded the car.  The train had left the tunnel.  I moved to the window expecting to see pasture land.  We couldn’t be there yet. 

I was wrong.  In the distance ahead, I could make out bits of the boardwalk.  I saw the great Ferris wheel and the tallest hills of the old Loop the Loop*.

“Hold on a minute!” I exclaimed.  “Atlantic City took down the Loop the Loop in 1912.  I’ve only seen it in photographs.”

I twisted around to Valentino, but he was gone.  When I turned back to the window, the train was much closer to the boardwalk.  I could see the bathhouse, the Love’s Nest and the Shimmy Auto. 

(For more about the attractions of Atlantic City in the Roaring Twenties, click here*.)

Goosebumps rose on my arms.  A disturbing sensation went through me and I shuddered, just like I did a moment before the train arrived at the station.  Flashing lights drew my eyes farther into the amusement park.

In the midst of the strange lights, the tilt-a-whirl spun wildly.

mother-you-need-shoes-1

Portal by Rob Goldstein

***

The end.

So, what’s the deal with that tilt-a-whirl?  And what did Valentino mean by It’s not the Atlantic City that you know?  Not to mention the reflection Lulu saw in the tunnel — had there really been a handcar behind the train?

Don’t forget to visit Rob’s blog.  You’ll find more fabulous images there, and insightful posts too.

Real World Notes

Science and Invention was the name during the 1920s and 1930s of a popular technology magazine founded by Hugo Gernsback and edited by him until 1929.  The magazine also ran science fiction stories.

Scientifiction:  In 1929 the term science fiction was used (first attested in advertisements for “Air Wonder Stories” magazine), though there is an isolated use from 1851; abbreviated form sci-fi is from 1955.  Earlier in same sense scientifiction (1916) was used.

Loop the Loop:  The rollercoaster opened in 1901 and operated until 1912.  It was one of the earliest looping roller coasters in the United States.

Thanks for visiting.  You’re the kitten’s ankles!

Now for that obligatory shameless self-promotion, here are my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka 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.

Artwork Copyright © 2018 by Rob Goldstein

Copyright © 2018 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 30 ― Hullaba Lulu 5.1

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Lulu reclining trunks Valentino Station

Valentino and Lulu wait at the abandoned subway station.  (Rob Goldstein)

Hi there, Sheiks and Shebas.  You’re at Jazz Age Wednesdays.  Today’s episode brings us to Chapter 5 of the new series, Hullaba Lulu.  I hope you are enjoying my change of pace from the “Pip-verse.”  Yes, it’s another story set in the 1920s, but this one is a “Diesel-punk” fantasy. 

Once again I have more of the pos-i-lutely fabulous artwork from Rob Goldstein.  He’s made another fun video for this series.  Button up your overcoat and check it out below.  Rob and I are also having inspiring discussions and he’s sending me “three things” to spontaneously drive each chapter of this pantser story. 

However, this time I’m cheating a little…  When I started fleshing out my notes for this chapter, I found myself relating the backstory of Lulu’s family — before I even got around to any of the “three things” from Rob.  The backstory was enough for a small episode.  So, I decided to give you “Chapter 5.1” today and move the three things to next week.

Our darb cast of characters is finally ready to get aboard that diesel-punk train.  I can’t resist showing you the images Rob made for that. 

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

“This Ouija board is part of my train,” Valentino added in an annoyed tone that was tinged with guilt.  “It’s part of the navigation system.  This one was a backup.  The primary board was corrupted and a default setting sent the train here, where the backup board was left.  I didn’t know it was bringing me here.  I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” he added, looking at my grandfather.

“Lulu, you have to help me stop her!” Pearl cried.  “It’s Rose, she’s going to blouse.”

All aboard!

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 5.1

The Backstory

Next Time 5.2: Automat, Cheeseburger, Tilt-a-Whirl

My senses tingled with excitement.  I got goosebumps just thinking about getting on that train.  And Valentino―  No!  I wasn’t going to think about him that way.  I refused to be like everybody else. 

I went to Brick Oven Pizza and asked my pal Tony if he could help get the trunks down through the speakeasy for Rose and Pearl.  Tony was a peach.  I knew he’d help without asking questions.

The Station Val_Pearl enters_red

Pearl made it back after going to check on Rose (Rob Goldstein)

Then I ankled back to the abandoned subway tunnel.  I was surprised to hear voices ahead.  One belonged to my grandfather.  After a moment I realized the other was Valentino.  Gramps sounded like he was in a lather.

Gramps tended to be taciturn, and Valentino seemed pretty tight lipped.  So, I knew they would clam up if they knew anyone else was there.  I took off my kitten-heeled shoes so they wouldn’t hear me as I drew closer.  The conversation I witnessed left me speechless and confounded.

“The first time I met you, I didn’t know what to think ― of you or of my own reaction to you.  I was young then.  I didn’t know much.  I thought you’d left forever.  Life went on.  I married Priscilla, the love of my life.  Then you showed up again.  I only saw you in the distance, and that was for the best,” Gramps said.

vAL Grams Station_0011_007x

Valentino summons the train with his trumpet. (Rob Goldstein)

My grandfather’s words sounded like a man reminiscing, but there was nothing of sweet memories in his tone.  How could he have known Valentino that long ago, unless the darb mystery man had been a small child?  I felt confused.

“Priscilla and I had Lauren, our beautiful daughter, though my Priscilla didn’t live to watch her become a woman,” Gramps said and swallowed hard.  “If she had, Lauren might not have turned out the way she did.”

La Garçonne-ectoplasm

Lauren inside Valentino’s train  (Rob Goldstein)

“I know the girl has a mean streak a mile wide, but I still love her.  She took up with that mobster and to be honest, I don’t know which one was worse, him or Lauren.  Finally, she came back to Lulu and me.  But I knew she wasn’t happy, Lauren couldn’t be satisfied with us.  She needed thrills that a normal life couldn’t provide.  I shouldn’t have been surprised…” my grandfather’s voice trailed away, as Valentino waited in silence for him to continue.

“So, the last time you were here, you left with my daughter.  I never saw her again.  Now you mean to take my granddaughter with you — don’t bother denying it.  I know I wouldn’t be any more able to stop her than I could have stopped Lauren, even if I had known what she meant to do.  Well mister, things are going to be different this time.  This time I’m going too!”

Rose Enters Station portal

Valentino, Rose, Gramps, and Lulu wait for the train (Rob Goldstein)

A noise caused me to turn.  I heard Rose and Pearl thanking Tony.  They insisted that they could manage on their own.  The sound of an old baggage trolley with squeaky wheels echoed through the tunnel.  The two men heard it and stopped talking.

My mother the mobster?  I knew which rumrunner Gramps meant.  If Lauren was potentially worse than that man… well, she must be pure evil.

 And Gramps… I wasn’t completely sure what he meant about Valentino, but maybe that was because I was stuck, trying and failing to process what he said about my mother.

I put my shoes back on and waited quietly for Rose and Pearl to catch up.  I didn’t want  anyone, particularly Gramps or Valentino, to know I had been listening.

Val Margosha getting on train All Abord

Rose made it too.  Is that a Chanel suit she’s wearing?

Here ends part 1 of the fifth chapter of Hullaba Lulu.

Next Time Chapter 5.2: Automat, Cheeseburger, Tilt-a-Whirl

 

Now that I’ve finished my Saturday serial, Thistledown – Midsummer Bedlam, we might have some new readers on this diesel-punk train.  This seems like a good time to provide links to the past chapters of Hullaba Lulu.  If you’ve just gotten aboard Jazz Age Wednesdays, you can catch up at these links:

Chapter 1 ― Rose, Pearl, Trumpet

Chapter 2 ― Garter Flask, Grand Central Station, Bright Young Things

Chapter 3 ― Saltwater Taffy, Raspberry-Red Rouge, Ouija Board

Chapter 4 ― Ectoplasm, Jung, Orthophonic Victrola

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog.  You’ll find more fabulous images there. He’s not just a brilliant artist, he’s also an advocate for several important causes.

Thanks for visiting.  You’re the oyster’s earrings! 

 

PS:  I can’t forget my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka 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.

Artwork Copyright © 2018 by Rob Goldstein

Copyright © 2018 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 29 ― Hullaba Lulu 4

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Hey, Sheiks and Shebas.  Welcome back to Jazz Age Wednesdays

My “partner in crime” (Rob Goldstein) did the video above.  I’m using as a review of last week’s episode.  I’m happy to be able to feature more of the artwork of Rob Goldstein

Update:  Here’s a fun related post that Rob did over at his blog, “10 Everyday Items Invented in the 1920s* — click over and enjoy.

Today we have Chapter 4 of the Roaring Twenties fantasy series, Hullaba Lulu.  The “dieselpunk*” aspect of the story is beginning to show in this episode.  The “three things” Rob sent for this chapter were downright educational.  Some of the “things” take a bit more writing for me to work into the story than others.  So please bear with me for this somewhat longer episode.

 If you need to review Chapter 2, click here.  

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

Today’s chapter picks up where Chapter 3 left off, with Lulu in her “secret place,” the abandoned subway station.  The Ouija board spelled out nonsense letters.  She thought she was alone until…

Suddenly, I felt cool fingers touch my shoulder.  I jumped backward and screamed.

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 4

Ectoplasm, Jung, Orthophonic Victrola

Magic table Lulu Valentino Gramps good portraits

Lulu, Gramps, & Valentino in the Abandoned Subway Station, by Rob Goldstein

My elbow hit one of the dead soldiers lined up on the counter.  As my scream echoed through the abandoned subway station the empty beer bottle toppled with a domino effect.  The entire row went down, rolling and clattering.  Several fell to the floor, but astonishingly none of them broke.  I wondered if the coat of dust on the floor was that thick.

Maybe it was, because a little cloud went up and I sneezed loudly.  As I wiped my nose on my sleeve I looked up at the owner of the cool fingers that had startled me.

Valentino.

For a moment I wondered how the mysterious man had gotten into my secret subway station.  Then I realized that I had not locked the door behind me.

“Your rouge needs blending,” he commented.

Once again, he looked at me as if he had stumbled upon a new species.  It made me wonder if I had a booger in my nostril.  I touched a knuckle to my nose uncomfortably and glanced around for a mirror.

Val hat Lulu trumpet expressions

Lulu and Valentino, by Rob Goldstein

I noticed Valentino held a red leather-bound volume.  It looked like some kind of logbook.  He casually set it on the counter near the Ouija board.  He put his hand to my cheek.  Using his thumb, he rubbed the raspberry colored cosmetic a few times.

“So, what’s that?” I inquired about the book.

Lifting the red cover, I saw hand written notes and illustrations.  Valentino laid his hand on the book cover, closing it.

“The pictures in it are unusual.  Did you draw them too?”

“Yes, Lulu.  I got the idea from Carl Jung.  It’s sort of a travelogue.  It wouldn’t make sense to anyone other than myself,” he replied.

(More about Jung’s own red notebook here)

I looked up at his face, evaluating his expression.  Brooksy, a classy dresser in that tuxedo, Valentino was suavely calm.  Maybe too cool.  It made me want to poke at the façade, get a rise out of him.  I wondered what would annoy him.

Val and Tom green

Valentino and Tom Driberg, by Rob Goldstein

Valentino had a charisma that was hard to describe.  I didn’t want to be attracted to him for the simple reason that my friends acted foolishly giddy over him.  I figured he had that effect on most women.  Maybe on men too, based on the way that journalist, Tom Driberg had gazed at him.

So focused was I on Valentino that I had not noticed my grandfather enter the room.  I was almost as startled to see Gramps as I had been when Valentino came up behind me.  I thought of the brief stare-down they had outside the speakeasy the night before.

The atmosphere around the two men seemed heavy.  It reminded me of ectoplasm.  I felt I would’ve needed a knife to cut through the gauzy membrane of it.

Then again, maybe it actually is ectoplasm, I thought.

Gradually a faint aura enveloped the two men.  It trailed away from them, becoming thicker, more visible as it stretched back to the Ouija board.  The planchette raced back and forth across the wooden board.  Apparently, I was the only one who noticed.

Gramps Valentino sepia Station

Gramps and Valentino in the abandoned station, by Rob Goldstein

Gramps swallowed hard and his eyes were tight as he fixed Valentino with a cold stare.  That was the second time I had seen Gramps encounter the enigmatic man.  Both times my grandfather’s intensity, his expressions and manner befuddled me.

“So that’s what brought you back?  That old Ouija board?  I guess coming back to get something is not as cold hearted as returning on a whim.  But it would have been better if you hadn’t come back at all,” Gramps told him in a level tone.

Horsefeathers!  My Gramps already knew Valentino?  But…

The red leather book flew open and the planchette jumped from the Ouija board to the book.  I hurried to look at the pages before Valentino could get a chance to close it again.

The left-side page was filled with words written in elaborate script.  The hand was neat but difficult to read through the gauzy nimbus.  I wanted to pick up the book, but I was afraid to put my hand into the ectoplasm.  The right-side page bore a hand drawn map.  I gazed at it in sudden inspiration.  I grabbed the notepad where I penciled the letters of the Ouija board to which the planchette pointed moments before, Y, T, I, C, C, I, T, N, A, L, T, A.  My eyes went back to the map.  I spat out the piece of saltwater taffy that as still in my mouth.

English_ouija_board

English Ouija board, Wiki Media Commons

“Atlantic City?” I read the title of the map.  “Bushwa!  Couldn’t it point to Paris, or Cairo, or even Shanghai?  But no― Atlantic City.  And why the devil did it spell the words backward?” I commented incredulously.

Valentino reached the desk in a single step.  He didn’t even flinch at putting his hand into the aura.  He picked up his travelogue.  He snapped it shut and the nimbus burst.  The noise of tiny pops repeatedly assailed my ears, like a string of lady finger firecrackers.  Bits of ectoplasm showered down in sparks.

I tried to take the book from him, but he held it tightly to his chest.  He gave me a derisive look that was probably meant to make me stop.  I desperately wanted to get another look at that page.  The only thing I had been able to make out in the handwriting was a name.  Lauren.

“Lauren was my mother’s name,” I hissed into his ear, not wanting Gramps to hear.

“I know, but save it for later,” he whispered back as he twisted away from my hands.

Lauren La Garçonne -1x

Lauren by Rob Goldstein

Pearl burst into my erstwhile secret place.  I stopped trying to get my hands on the book.  My fair-haired pal was clearly distraught.

“Lulu, you have to help me stop her!” Pearl cried.  “It’s Rose, she’s going to blouse.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” I assured Pearl.  “I don’t think Rose has anywhere else to go, no family or anything,” I commented, but paused for a second as a suspicious feeling tickled at my mind.  “At least she never talks about them.  Why would Rose be leaving?”

“I don’t know,” Pearl said near tears.  “Especially after all those gifts came.  But she is.  She’s packing her suitcase and everything!”

When I wanted to know what Pearl meant by gifts, she described several expensive items that were left at our friend’s door.

“And there was a beautiful Chanel suit, and even a big Orthophonic Victrola,” Pearl explained.  “A note came with it that was addressed to Margosha.  So, it wasn’t even meant for her.  I told her that if she didn’t want the stuff she could just send it back, but she was all upset about it.”

Valentino surprised me by telling Pearl, “I thought you were Margosha.  The name means pearl.”

Pearl Lulu Waves

Pearl, by Rob Goldstein

“Did you leave the goods then,” I asked him, and I was surprised to hear the accusing tone in my voice.

“No, but I’ve a good idea who did,” he told me.  “Pearl, go get your friend and bring her here.  It’s not safe for her to travel alone.”

Pearl daubed a lace edged handkerchief at her eyes.  She brightened considerably.

“It’d be a shame to send back the Victrola.  It’s the bee’s knees,” she sniffled and said, trying to joke.

“Not to worry.  I have one on my train.  We can let it play on the way,” he told her.

I saw Gramps shift his stance.  His hand twitched as though he was about to reach toward something.  Or maybe someone.

Valentino turned and picked up the Ouija board.

“Hey!  That’s mine,” I protested.

Gramps shocked me by saying, “It belongs to him.”

I turned to my grandfather in sputtering confusion.

Gramps_Red 001x

Gramps by Rob Goldstein

“I didn’t realize it had a defect when I left it.  That explains why I never got a message…” Valentino told Gramps in an apologetic tone that left me more muddled than ever.  “That’s why it gave you the letters in reverse order,” he added turning back to me.

My hands were still extended toward my Ouija board.  Too many strange words and thoughts were flooding into my mind.  They caught in a bottleneck, leaving me immobile.

“I’ll get you another one,” Valentino told me.

His mouth held an impatient twist as he looked at my outstretched hands.  He sounded like he was talking to a petulant child.  The whole situation was getting me in a later.

“This Ouija board is part of my train,” he added in an annoyed tone that was tinged with guilt.  “It’s part of the navigation system.  This one was a backup.  The primary board was corrupted and a default setting sent the train here, where the backup board was left.  I didn’t know it was bringing me here.  I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” he added, looking at my grandfather.

***

The End

***

Now I’ve exposed another of the challenges of writing “three things” and/or serials — achieving the right combination of stopping point and length. Applesauce, I do try…  

Will Rose arrive safely at the abandoned subway station?  Why is she in danger anyway? Lulu has a mysterious mom that apparently no one talks about?  How the heck are a Ouija board and a Victrola part of the workings of a train?  Must be dieselpunk…  At least some of these questions will be answered next time with Hullaba Lulu Chapter 5 — Automat, Tilt-a-Whirl, Cheeseburger. 

1927 Orthophonic Victrola Ad

In 1925 Orthophonic Victrola* was a big innovation in sound reproduction.  The new electrically recorded phonograph records sounded harsh on the old Victrolas.  The had to consider all sorts of frequencies and even how long the horn had to be to produce a good sound — not to mention how to fold the resulting nine-foot long horn into a cabinet. 

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog.  You’ll find more fabulous images there. He’s not just a brilliant artist, he’s also an advocate for several important causes. 

Thanks for visiting.  You’re the cat’s pajamas! 

 

 

PS:  I can’t forget my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka 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.

Artwork Copyright © 2018 by Rob Goldstein

Copyright © 2018 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 28 ― Hullaba Lulu 3

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Ghost train station with color

Image by Rob Goldstein

Hi there, Sheiks and Shebas.  You’re at Jazz Age Wednesdays.  Today’s episode brings us to Chapter 3 of the new series, Hullaba Lulu.  It is not in the “Pip-verse” but it still takes place during the Roaring Twenties. 

Update:  Here’s a link to a stunning video Rob made for the story. Please click over and check it out — it’s pos-i-lutely the berries!

Don’t Bring Lulu

I’m having a pos-i-lutely fabulous time working with artist Rob Goldstein.  He’s creating gorgeous artwork, starting inspiring discussions, and sending me “three things” to spontaneously drive each chapter of this pantser story.   If you need to review Chapter 2, click here.  Today we catch up with our bearcat Lulu the day after all the wild happenings in the abandoned subway tunnel.  Read on to see where Rob’s next three things took me for this chapter.

Previously with Hullaba Lulu

Valentino went up the ladder first to push aside the heavy manhole cover.  However, it was already open.  We climbed up to the street.  I looked around for my friends.  In the distance I saw the two gals climbing the stairs to Pearl’s front door.

A sulfuric smell accompanied the strike of a match.  I turned to see Tom Driberg leaning nonchalantly against a Rolls-Royce.  Cigarette smoke curled above his head as he jotted something on a small notepad.  He looked at Valentino the same way he had looked at Rose and Pearl.

Without a word, Tom walked into the night.

Hullaba Lulu

Chapter 3

Saltwater Taffy, Raspberry-Red Rouge, Ouija Board

 

Lulu 5

Lulu by Rob Goldstein

The heels of my T-strap shoes clicked rhythmically against the cracked pavement, keeping me company.  I did a step-slide-step-brush of the Camel Walk dance as I walked down the deserted tunnel.  I was supposed to meet Rose and Pearl for a late breakfast.  However, neither of them showed.  So, I headed down to my secret place to console myself. 

Besides, maybe I’ll run into that man again.  I guess anybody who looks like the Sheik of Araby has a right to call himself Valentino.  But still… why didn’t Pearl or Rose show up? I’m the one who’s always late.

I remembered how oddly my friends had acted when that journalist, Tom Driberg, turned up the night before.  Then I thought about that car-full of government-looking types.  I suppressed a pang of genuine worry.  I did another a step-slide-step-brush to lighten my thoughts.

vAL Grams Station_012x

Gramps in the abandoned subway tunnel — Art by Rob Goldstein

Ever since I was a kid, Gramps had told me I wasn’t allowed in that part of the abandoned subway.  He always said it wasn’t safe, although I couldn’t tell that it was any different from the rest of the tunnels.  So of course, the forbidden area was my childhood playground.  The old station was the best place in the world for telling ghost stories.

The key to the station door hung from a ribbon around my neck.  When I found the key, years before, I started locking the door.  It became my special secret place and I didn’t want just anybody hanging out there.

My stash of saltwater taffy was behind the counter that had been the ticket desk when the station was in use.  I pulled off a sticky piece of the candy.  In a mood to reminisce, I took out my box of girlhood treasures. 

When I was little, one of the highlights of my week was when Gramps would let me take unclaimed things from the speakeasy’s lost-and-found.  One of those items was a dainty gilt embossed tin from Dorin of Paris*.  I removed the top of the raspberry-red rouge container.  Inside the lid was a tiny mirror.  I winked at my reflection and daubed a bit of the cosmetic on my cheeks.

Clumsy as ever, my elbow brushed against one of the dusty dead soldiers I had lined up over the years.  I caught the empty beer bottle just before it went over the edge of the counter. 

 

Lulu at table in station

Lulu in her secret place.  Image by Rob Goldstein

My knee bumped against something on the shelf under the desk.  I grinned when I saw what it was. 

“Well, hello there.  I haven’t seen you for a long time,” I muttered to my old plaything.

It had been a long time since I’d thought about the Ouija board.  I wasn’t sure if it had belonged to my mother.  It looked so old that it might have belonged to Gramps.  Anyhow, nobody seemed to use it, so I had quietly taken it to my secret place.

I bent to take the Ouija board from the shelf.  I placed it on the counter.  Taking out my handkerchief I wiped a coating of dust from the wooden board.  The letters of the alphabet formed an arch across the polished wood-grain, and the numbers one through nine, and then zero, were in a line below.

English_ouija_board

Ouija Board, Wiki Media Commons

Most people would have said the station could use a good cleaning.  However, I liked the spooky feeling of the cobwebs in corners and the dust on the floor.  My footprints made a chaotic pattern in the dust, back and forth from the door to the desk and throughout the station.  Any prints other than my own had long since blended into the dust.

Or so I had thought.  I walked around the desk, intent on investigating.  My hand still rested on the scratched surface.  My eyes widened when I realized there were new foot prints.  They were considerably larger than mine and came from pointy toed shoes.  That’s when, from the corner of my eye, I saw a movement near my hand.

I jerked back around to the Ouija board.  The planchette moved.  The small, heart-shaped piece of wood was meant to glide across the board’s surface, with the light, unguided pressure from the fingertips of the participants.  It was supposed to reveal subconscious thoughts or clairvoyant messages from beyond.

As I watched in stunned silence, the planchette moved from letter to letter, with no one touching it.

Quickly I grabbed a pad and pencil from the desk.  I wrote the letters to which it pointed.  Y, T, I, C, C, I, T, N, A, L, T, A.

Suddenly, I felt cool fingers touch my shoulder.  I jumped backward and screamed.

Ghost Station_017x

The abandoned subway station, by Rob Goldstein

***

The End

***

The Camel Walk* dance originated in the early 20th century.  Variations of it have been popular over the decades.  If you want to pick up Lulu’s dance steps there several are how-to videos.  Here’s one for a modern country version:

I hope you’ll click over and check out Rob’s blog.  You’ll find more fabulous images there. He’s not just a brilliant artist, he’s also an advocate for several important causes. 

Rob sent more “things” for Chapter 4 — Ectoplasm, Jung, and Orthophonic Victrola.  Be sure to come back next week to see where those take Lulu.

Thanks for visiting.  You’re the cat’s pajamas! 

 

PS:  I can’t forget my other 1920s books — the original “three things” stories about Paisley Idelle Peabody, aka 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.

Artwork Copyright © 2018 by Rob Goldstein

Copyright © 2018 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.