Living the Dream

Welcome to October. The weather still has a hint of summer in it, but who knows how long that will last? This week, the authors of Tuesday Tales are writing to the prompt FLUSH. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. Enjoy.

“Prophesies, destinies, witches, magic? It makes no sense and yet, I know it’s the truth. How many people on this island believe in the supernatural and monsters like that? Have you ever heard of it? I mean did anyone mention something like that to you when you’ve been here?”

He shook his head. “No, but there are a lot of people on the island who remember the old tales, and at this time of year … The Scottish equivalent of the vampire is the Baobhan Sith.”

“Sith, like Cat Sith?” She glanced at Raven. “Are they dangerous? I mean do they have to be invited inside or can they just slip in unannounced?”

“I don’t know a lot about them, but if memory serves, they are the most sinister and darkest of the fairy folk, drawn by the smell of blood. The creatures can read minds and has the ability to shapeshift into anything his prey would find attractive.”

She flushed and looked down at Raven once more.

“Malcolm believed what he told me. Jerome, I’m scared. James warned me not to let talk of my so-called destiny get under my skin, but how can it not? Malcolm claims that the time has come for something to happen, although he doesn’t know exactly what it is, and that I’m supposed to save them all. If he believes that I’m some kind of messiah, why shouldn’t he believe the rest about vampire monsters crossing the veil? Save them all from what? Monsters I never even knew existed? At this point, I’m not convinced I can even save myself. I’m worried. If Bronagh had the answers, and she’s gone, where will I find them? What do you know about this prophecy and don’t say ‘nothing’ because you must’ve heard something.”

“Honestly, Marina, I don’t know anything more than you do, but I know someone who might.”

“Who?”

“Maeve. She and Bronagh were close as I told you. If anyone can tell you anything, it’ll be her. Why don’t we eat while it’s hot, and then we can talk to her together.”

She nodded. “I have the letter from Great-uncle Angus, too. I thought he was delusional as I said, but maybe there’s something in that to give us a clue.”

He smiled. Give us a clue. He might not have won her love, but he’d won her trust and that would do for now.

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Sunday, September 22, 2024 marked the first day of autumn. Each fall, my husband and I like to go to Lake Placid, NY for some rest and to recharge our batteries before the weather turns. This summer was actually a decent one with lots of heat and sunshine, but we did have some incredible rainstorms. Of course they were but nothing like the floods and storma affecting other parts of the world or even my country, but summer is over and time races on.

Mirror Lake, the lake on which the village of Lake Placid is situated, has never been as still as it was on Thursday when it lived up to its name.

Lake Placid has always been beautiful no matter the time of the year, and while the colors may not have been as vibrant this years, three days in the clear, fresh mountain air restored my soul. We ate like royalty, basked in the sun, and although we did have one incredibly rainy morning, we got to see everything we enjoy. We drove up the Veteran’s Memorial Highway to the summit of Whiteface Mountain and just relaxed. Now, we’re back home, invigorated, and I’m ready to tackle my fall to-do list! There’s nothing like a quick respite to get you going again.

Hope you have a great weekend.

Looking for some autumn reading? Check this out https://www.amazon.com/FALLING-LOVE-Love-Will-Find-ebook/dp/B0DH8C8MST

Welcome to the third season of 2024. Fall officially began on Sunday, and while summer is still clinging to this part of the world, she’s already moved on elsewhere. This week, the writers from Tuesday Tales are writing from the word prompt ORANGE. For years, I believed that nothing rhymes with orange. It seems I was wrong. Two words do: sporange, which is apparently the technical word for a spore sac, and Blorenge, which is a mountain in Wales. Who knew? Interestingly enough, or perhaps not, it seems nothing rhymes with month. Who knew?

I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones, and apologize for being a few words over the 400. Enjoy!

“Lady Fraser, ‘tis late to be up and about. I dinna mean to frighten you, but it isn’t safe outside. There’s something evil lurking in the shadows. We can all sense it, but I doubt it’s the only reason Donald has us all out this night. I’m Malcolm MacDonald. I’ve got the watch around Fraser Hall. No one will approach you, so you can rest easy, but it’s best to do so indoors.”

And wasn’t I just told to come out here?

He walked over to the veranda but didn’t climb the steps.

His name sounded a familiar note with her.

“Mr. MacDonald. Are you related to Ewen or Duncan MacDonald? I met him in Edinburgh.”

“Aye. Ewen is my uncle and Duncan my brother. He’s always loved being the one to open the eyes of those who don’t know or understand our darker history. You made a grand impression on him.”

The man’s hair was cut short, and he was clean-shaven. He wore a tan jacket, but what startled her was the hunting rifle he carried.

“I wasn’t aware that the people watching Fraser Hall were armed. I was under the impression that there were no predators here.” But even as she said it, she recalled James’s words, all the predators on Lewis walk on two feet.

“As a rule, we don’t, but young Bennet found a lamb over near the stones this morning. The wee thing had a habit of wandering off, but he’ll not do so again. He was torn apart and partially eaten, all his blood drained from him. ‘Twas unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It could be that we’ve a demon or a shapeshifter from the other side roaming the land. There hasn’t been one in my lifetime, but I recall my father speaking of the unholy thing. ‘Tisn’t All Hallows Eve yet, but the veil is thin. Things have been unsettled since the laird’s death. Maeve mentioned to my wife that Cat Sith has arrived early, too. Donald has set armed men in the paddocks. Until the beast is apprehended, I suggest you stay indoors at night.”

Marina nodded and stood. “Mr. MacDonald, you don’t really believe that do you?”

“We share this world with good and evil. Tonight’s orange halfmoon presages that there’s a change coming. Sometimes, evil gets the upper hand. Your arrival is the answer to the prophecy. You’ll save us all. If I believe in you, why wouldn’t I believe in the rest?”

She swallowed. “I think I’ve had enough fresh air for tonight. Do be careful. If there is something out here … Come on, Raven. It’s time to get back inside.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

I don’t know what it’s like in your little corner of the world, but we’re enjoying an unexpected return to daytime summer weather–plenty of sunshine and heat. Last week’s temps rose to the mid-eighties, and more of the same is predicted for the next two weeks. I know it won’t last, but this weather is so much kinder to my body, and as long as the humidity stays under control, I’m a happy camper.

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Things are moving along quickly as Marina is forced to deal with unsettling news. Our word prompt is BUSY. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. Enjoy!

Hurrying to her suite, she shut the door and locked it, leaning heavily against it, jumping when Raven pushed her way into the room through the cat door. She bent down and picked up the kitten, her purring barely loud enough to be heard over Marina’s thumping heart.

Jerome knocked on the door, and she jumped, a squeak of fear coming from deep inside her.

“Marina, please let me in. There’s so much more you need to know. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He wouldn’t leave if she didn’t answer him, but what could she say? He could be the man in her dreams, or he could be the terrifying dark shadow … could that be what had been stolen from Bronagh? Her busy mind invented scenarios faster than she could put words to them. But how could she have dreamed of something that hadn’t happened?

“Marina, please? Give me a chance to—”

She inhaled. “I need to be alone right now. I’m sure you understand this is unsettling for me. I’m tired and have the mother of all headaches. I’ll see you in the morning.”

For a second, she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he did, his voice filled with resignation.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you for now, but you need to know the rest. We’ll finish this tomorrow.”

She listened to his footsteps receding down the hallway. It was a good thing she’d put away the rest of the pot roast when she’d gotten his dessert. She couldn’t face him right now, not even if her life depended on it … and it well might. Still holding Raven, she dropped onto the sofa, reaching for her mother’s shawl folded on the arm. Raven jumped off her lap, and Marina used the opportunity to wrap the shawl around her, seeking comfort and possibly answers from it—not that it had ever happened before.

She shivered. Fear? Desire? Excitement? Possibly all three as she replayed what Jerome had told her about his vision, and the more she thought about it, the more impossible it sounded, and yet … everything within her told her he was telling the truth.

Suddenly, the walls of Fraser Hall suffocated her. She needed air. Going into her office, she was surprised to see Raven sitting in front of the patio doors as if she were waiting to be let outside.

Go. Follow Raven.

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

The bathroom is complete! It took a while for the white counter on back order to arrive but it’s here, and I absolutely love the new look.

I meant to take a before picture of the downstairs bathroom prior to the renovations, but by the time I thought of doing so, construction was underway. Let me describe it for you instead.

For a size comparison, the room sits directly beneath my bathroom. It was painted two-tone, navy at the bottom and offwhite at the top, with a border depicting balls of all sorts dividing the two. When you entered the room, there was a large linen closet, next to a 30 inch, goldtone fiberglass shower stall. Beside that, we had a vanity, sponge-painted in ivory and blues (it was a thing back then) and then the toilet. The overriding theme was sports, and posters and memorabilia decorated the room. Get the picture? It was a boys’/man’s room.

After I had my theraputic tub put in, it was obvious that we needed to redo the downstairs bathroom as well. While I have no trouble showering in it, that wasn’t the case for my son and other guests who stayed over. We needed a proper-sized shower downstairs, so what were our options? Larry Fardy of Seaway Bathroom Renovators, the one responsible for my gorgeous upstairs bathroom, had the answer, and I absolutely love it.

He gutted the room, removed the closet, moved walls, drains, pipes, electrical wires, flooring, you name it and created an absolutely incredible downstairs bathroom for us. It still needs to be decorated with towels, rugs, and pictures, but I couldn’t be happier with the results, and they did it all in 5 days!

What do you think? Recognize the vanity that was temporarily housed in my upstairs bathroom? Even with the closet gone, we have as much, if not more, space. The mirror opens into a double-sided mirrored cabinet with lots of room of the shelves for medication, shaving cream, and anyhting else. Awesome job, Larry. I can’t thank you enough!

So, both bathrooms have been renovated. What’s next? Painting on the main floor and then, we’ll see.

Have a great weekend!

It’s hard to believe that summer is on its way out and fall is on the doorstep, but here we are. The kids are all back in school, the days are getting shorter, and there’s the colors of autumn beckoning us outside to enjoy. This week, the authors of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt SCHOOL. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. Enjoy.

Marina stared at Jerome, schooling her features as best as she could to hide her shock. Slowly, she let her gaze roam over his face, searching for the signs that he was the unkempt, bearded man who’d terrified her at the airport. There was no mistaking his unusual eyes. Why had she not recognized them before?

But the deceiver’s truth seems believable because he trusts his own lies.

Could she trust him? A few hours ago, she’d been ready to hate him and yet … Hadn’t she had a vision earlier today at the Standing Stones of Calanais? How different was that from the one he’d described? And what about all the dreams she’d had? If it could happen to her, it could happen to others, but his admission that he’d been in London…

“What were you doing there looking like that?” she croaked.

“I was on my way home from New Zealand. My agent loved the ‘wild druid look’ and insisted I have publicity photos taken. She used a cut from our video chat and AI to generate a poster of—”

“I saw it at the airport in London when I was getting ready to leave for Edinburgh. The eyes … I thought the eyes were following me.” Her cheeks warmed. “But how did you know me. You recognized me. I know you did.”

“Because I did, I do.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t know you were Lady Fraser. I asked you if you believed in reincarnation because ever since my first visit to the stones, I’ve had the feeling that the stories are about me, as if I lived in that time, and what the stones provide is a way for me to access repressed memories. You’re part of those memories. William Shakespeare once wrote, ‘Life is too short to love you in one, I promise to look for you in the next life.’ I’ve seen you in my dreams. I’ve been searching for you for years—”

“No!”

It couldn’t be, and yet she sensed the truth in him. If Jerome was the man in her dreams and she had no reason to doubt him now, then who was James? Fear filled her. If what he was saying was true…

“Marina, it’s not a bad thing, but it does speak to a connection between us and the stones. We need to explore this—”

“No!” She raced out of the room.

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Meet Georgia. At sixteen, she is the youngest of my three granddaughters, and she’s in her final year of high school. She wants to be an electrician, and I believe she’ll be a great one because she has the power to excel at anything she chooses.

Below is an unedited copy of a short introductory essay she wrote for her grade twelve English class. The assignment was to describe a traumatic episode in your life and how you dealt with it. Personally, I think she has the makings of a great writer, but I may be a touch biased.

I was about to turn 7 in the year 2014, I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep until my birthday. For the first 8 days I didn’t sleep, then suddenly I got some news that broke my heart. I was sitting at the dinner table one night eating, then something weird happened, my mom came back to the table with some ice cream, as a kid I loved ice cream one of my favourite things to have as dessert, so I was excited for it. After we ate the ice cream my mom told us something that we didn’t expect, my grandfather died. We knew he was struggling with cancer, but my dad told us there was nothing to worry about as they had put him in a clinical trial. When my mom told me this, I dropped my spoon and started to cry, as I looked around the table at my siblings, I was the only one crying, I was the only one that really had a connection with him, so I felt more emotions. Keep in mind when this happened it was Eleni’s 8th birthday, the date was November 9th, 2014, the exact date of Eleni’s birthday. There was no funeral for him in Canada, but because he was Greek he wanted to get buried where he was raised. On the tallest mountain in Greece Mount Olympus, he was raised in the highest village on the mountain, he had goats for neighbours. But my dad brought his body there to be buried, after that I didn’t see my dad, because when he came back from Greece he had a cold. 

The date was December 9th, 2014, the exact date, a month later. I was now 7 because my birthday had passed a couple of weeks before, I was in my class at Viscount and suddenly I was called down to the office because I was going home early. My mom showed up to my school with sunglasses on and said, “we are going to grandmas”, we all agreed and got into the car. When we arrived at my grandmothers, we saw that our church minister was there, Ruth was her name. We were told to sit on the couch and listen to what my mom had to say, she looked at us and started crying, because we were so close to our mom we started to cry to, not even knowing why. Then she told us, “I am so sorry, your dad died”, we looked up at her and started to cry. My younger brother was 5 at the time and the only thing he said was “can I go play with Legos now?”, he didn’t know what was happening. We cried for hours and hours until there were no more tears. We got home that night and went right to bed. The next day we were told we will not be going back to school until the last week of January. One of the worst days of my life was his funeral, it was a 3-day event, a wake, then his funeral, then burial, I will never forget the day I stood over my father and said goodbye for the last time.

A couple of years later my mom finally told my sister and I what the actual cause of his death was, and we were told right then and there he had a heart attack caused by a drug overdose, it was cocaine lased with fentanyl. 

Today I am a student athlete with a G2 drivers license about to graduate high school, no thanks to him, but thanks to my mom. This just proves you don’t need a father to be a great person, and that you don’t need 2 parents to have a steady life. You write your own story, even if you had a hard time to begin with. If you believe in something, whether it be to get a new job or to start over you can do it because there is nothing you can’t do.

What do you think? I am very proud of the way my daughter rose to the situation and raised her four young children. We all face obstacles in life, but we don’t all handle them the same way. Be the person you were meant to be. Don’t whine and cry, blame everyone on the hand life dealt you, but instead, pick yourself up, and aim for the stars. Be like Georgia. Be your own success story.

Eight months down in 2024 and four to go. September is here. In the twelve years since I retired as a teacher, I used to smile when the first day of school arrived since I didn’t have to go to work. What a joke! Once I decided to become a writer, everyday is a potential workday. I work far more hours than I ever did teaching, and yet I couldn’t be happier.

But this September is different because my grandson started university in a different city, moved away from home, and we all miss him like crazy. Growing old sucks when it’s me, but I miss my little grandbabies all grown up now. Hannah, the eldest will graduate with a degree in pharmacy next spring, while Nico begins his journey in Health Sciences. Where has time gone?

Now, enough feeling blue. It’s time to answer this month’s question: September 4 question – Since it’s back to school time, let’s talk English class. What’s a writing rule you learned in school that messed you up as a writer?

I learned all the rules of writing in school, and then I taught them for more than thirty years as an English teacher and a literacy coach. I wouldn’t say knowing the rules messed me up in any way; although, there are definite differences between grammar and spelling when in comes to the Canadian/British system I learned and taught and the American system I use in my books. I refuse to give up the Oxford comma, and that’s that. As well, over the years and with the advent of computers and word porcessing programs, there have been formatting changes to deal with, too.

That being said, there are many things that I taught in my creative writing classes that I’ve thrown out the door. The most relevant of them would be plotting the story,chapter by chapter, scene by scene, and writing character profiles. To be 100 percent honest, when I start writing a new book, I have a bunch of ideas floating around in my head and nothing else. The sky’s the limit. Sometimes, it’s a particular incident I’ve witnessed or read about, a person I’ve seen, a place I’ve visited, a comment someone has made often generate the story. Occasionally, it’ll be a song or a title that pops into my head, but once it’s there, I have to work on it.

My current contemporary paranormal romance suspense novel, Listen to the Stones, arose from the feeling I had when visiting the Standing Stones of Calanais on the Isle of Lewis in Scotland last summer. There was an energy surrounding the place that created a sense of awe in me. When I examined the stones and saw how each one was a little different and yet all of them reminded me of people turned to stone, well, my imagination went into overdrive! To discover that one of the prevalent myths about the place involved the idea of people turned to stone as punishement was all I needed to create my fantasy.

I usually write a blurb before I begin or in the early stages of the story to help me focus. The blurb may change a dozen times before the story ends because, when I start to write, I have only a vague idea of how it will end.

Since my books are character driven, what comes next is usually what the people residing in my imagination want. I research to make sure my facts, even in a fantasy, are as accurate as can be. I describe what I saw and what I want my reader to see, and I make a point of planting clues and tying up loose ends. In short, the only planning I do is a basic plot graph: a setting, characters that include protagonists and antagonists, an inciting incident, rising action that involves a few crises unknown to me until they happen, a climax, and a resolution to the story that ends in a happily ever after for the main characters. The characters are ready to end the story, so the book should be ready for its late October release.

The other thing I do, something considered a major no-no by all of the writing gurus, is that I edit as I write and if something pops into my head, I’ll go back and rewrite it into the story before moving on. Conservatively speaking, I probably edit each chapter a dozen times before the story is finished and ready for it’s final edit. Does that take time? Yes, but it’s the way my mojo works. How about you? Which writing rules to you use or lose?

To see other opinions, click on the link. https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

See you next month!

Wow. Today is September 3, and my 53rd wedding anniversary. Where has time gone? Today, the authors of Tuesday Tales are working with the word prompt FUNNY. I struggled to find a way to use the word based on where I am in the novel, but then I recalled that not everything one considers funny is humorous. It can be odd and strange, unusual to sat the least. I’m continuing with Listen to the Stones. Enjoy.

He swallowed and the truth tumbled out of him.

“I went to see Bronagh earlier this morning. I was there when her cottage exploded.”

“Oh my God! Couldn’t you have gotten her out?”

“No. It was a miracle that I wasn’t still inside when it exploded and to try to go back inside … The fire was too hot and burned at an incredible rate. I called for help and waited until they arrived, but there was nothing to be done.” He licked his lips. “Before the explosion, I found her door open. That seemed funny to me.”

“The woman’s dead. I see nothing humorous.”

“I wasn’t implying anything of the sort. It seemed off, odd, strange, and incredibly out of character. I knocked on the door, called out to her and heard a moan, so I went inside. The woman had been viciously attacked and badly beaten. The cottage had been searched and something taken, something she’d gone to great lengths to protect, something dark and evil.” He described the inside of the cottage, focusing on the box. “With all the questions I have, her death is simply too convenient. When I touched her—”

She frowned.

“You touched her and yet you didn’t try to save her?”

He shook his head. He was making a mess of this.

“Hear me out, please.” Painstakingly, he explained about his birth, leaving James’s name out of it for now. Then, knowing how ridiculous and far-fetched it would sound, he described the vision he’d had, the thought that Bronagh had taken him into herself and placed the other embryo in the selkie, and then the darkness he’d seen not only at the cottage but at the stones.

Marina didn’t say anything. She stood, picked up their plates, and took them back to the kitchen. Her silence was far more daunting than if she’d laughed at him. A few minutes later, she returned with a slice of cake for him but nothing for herself.

“So was this vision like the ones you had with your books?”

“It was similar, and yet different. Do you agree that someone wants you to leave the island?” She nodded. “The notes, the threats, the vile rubber rodent were the first step. That person would know that eventually Bronagh would seek you out. She’s famous on the island, and I know your housekeeper was a close friend of hers.”

“James called her a crazy, eccentric, old woman who might’ve incited people against me.”

That’s it. Come back next week for more. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.