#FridayFlash: Says The Master

Two years ago, my older daughter, lured by the pretty dresses and tapping shoes, pulled us into Irish Dance. When she began classes, this hispanic family knew absolutely nothing about Irish Dance. Reel? Jig? Hard shoes? It all might as well have been Gaelic as far as we were concerned.

The dance school family embraced us with open arms. The dance instructors, the dancers, and the parents helped our daughter, and the rest of the our family, to understand and love the sometimes crazy, but always fantastic life of Irish Dance. Now, our younger daughter has joined the ranks, we've made life long friends, and we know more about trebles than I think possible.

Recently, a fellow Irish Dance parent/writer challenged me to write a piece for something like an Irish Dance Storytime. So, me being me, I searched the internet for the history of Irish Dance. I came across information about Dance Masters, instructors that traveled across the land teaching villagers Irish Dance.

That history, as well as Darren Maguire's commitment to Irish Dance and his students, are the inspiration for this little poem that I wrote for my 21 Moments writing challenge.

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Says The Master

To the beat. With grace.

This foot here. That foot there.

Dance with your heart.

Says The Master.

Dancing gets the chores done.

Dancing brings the neighbors to call.

Dancing starts the ceili.

Says The Master.

In the morn, Dance to school

In the eve, Dance in the streets.

In the night, Dance in your dreams.

Says the Master.

Dance to forget.

Dance to remember.

Dance to love.

Says The Master.

Dance is life.

Life is Dance.

Love Life. 

Love Dance.

Says the Master.

#FridayFlash - A Mother's Nature

Living in Tucson, I enjoy the warm winter weather as compared to the "East," everywhere is else is east of here, but this winter we're not the only ones with warmer than usual weather. During a discussion with my husband about the unusual weather pattern, my Muse pokes me with that sword of hers with a story idea. Below is the result of the poke.

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She stretched out in the warm bed, her feet poked out from under the duvet. It was too early to get up. Why couldn’t she just stay in bed? She sighed, it wasn’t in her job description to relax, and these days no one was catching a break, least of all her.

Fatigue still clung to her as she swung her legs off the bed. A snore and shuffling behind her made the corner of her mouth twitch. A glance over her shoulder and she saw him relax back into his pillow. He could sleep through anything. If only she had that ability.

Too many nights of listening for her kids. When they were young, she couldn’t sleep as she would make sure that they breathed in their bassinets, and they didn’t even know about Back to Sleep back then. As the children grew, she would listen for cries for help from the Boogie Man. Then, she remembered too vividly, those times when the children were ill. Many a night she’d sing them back to sleep, only to find that the night had passed with little rest for herself. Then, before they kids moved out, she always had an ear out for the ones that defied curfew. It seemed like eons since those days. To be a mother.

Sunlight streamed into the bedroom making everything entirely too bright, the walls appeared more tan than the chamoisee she’d painted them. Thanks the Stars she hadn’t settled on that wheat color, otherwise she’d be blinded right now.

How late was it? With the angle and strength of the light, coupled with the warmth of the room, she figured it must be late morning. At that thought, her adrenaline spiked, and she jumped out of bed. With long strides, she padded across the mossy carpet to the kitchen.

After the late night work session, she needed to infuse with caffeine. She smirked. Maybe not needed, but certainly wanted. At least science had confirmed what she’d always known, caffeine helped brain function. Not that she needed the added boost, but back in her days of raising children, she’d incorporated the ritual into her day as something to do for herself.

Her bare feet registered the warmth emanating from wooden floor in the kitchen. The sunlight had been working its magic in here as well. Floor to ceiling windows had many benefits, letting the Sun do its job on her floors was one of them. And as soon as she had a cup of her morning elixir in her hand, she’d stand in front of the window basking in the sunlight.

The coffee maker stood waiting for her on the marble counter top. But in order to get to it, she’d have to walk past her laptop. Even though she had a list a mile long to get done today, she wasn’t touching the evil thing until after her routine. Ignoring the whir of the computer as it backed itself, she set about making her morning brew.

Tamping down her grounds, she wondered at all her gadgets. Technology for the sake of technology was an ok thing, heck, she couldn’t live without her espresso maker. But that computer, with it’s ability to crunch numbers was going to drive her crazy. Even thinking about all the data entry they’d done lately made her head pound, and they hadn’t even started to analyze it. No use letting it get to me. There would be plenty of number crunching today, although she should follow up on her normal tasks. Some things, and people, shouldn’t be left to their own devices too long.

With her milk frothed, she stood tapping her fingertips on the counter as the espresso aroma wrapped itself around her. When the percolating finally stopped, she poured the dark liquid into her favorite cup, the chipped one that had been a gift from one of the children, Summer. Not that she had favorites, but Summer warmed her heart in ways the others couldn’t.

Cup in hand, she glided to the window, careful to not spill her brown gold.

Outside, the sunlight filtered through the trees. Tiny buds promised a rainbow of blossoms. Even her raised garden beds showed signs of life.

Through the windows, she heard the chittering of the animals. She chuckled as she watched birds dance from branch to branch and into the sky, luring, flirting. Even the squirrels and chipmunks were busy wooing. She sipped her beverage, reminiscing about her days of courtship with her own sky flirt.

Arms slipped around her, warm against her skin. A mouth nipped at the hollow near her collar bone.

She laughed. “How did you know I was thinking of you?”

His husky chortle blew his warm breath down her breast. “How could I not know? Not even your coffee could mask your scent.” He pulled her closer to him. “You are as beautiful and alluring as always.” His own arousal firm against her back.

As much as she wanted to give in, she said, “Later. We’ve got time to indulge later.”

He pulled her tighter. “My argument exactly. We’ve got time to indulge now.”

She sighed. To indulge now? Or later? There was so much data to go over, so much to set right. Too much was changing, and too fast.

He must’ve heard her thoughts, he could always do that, “Fine. At least let me enjoy Spring’s day with you for just a few moments before you run off to your fixing-the-planet duties.”

In answer, she rested her head against his shoulder. But something he’d said bothered her. “What day is it?”

He shrugged. “The last day of January.”

She clenched her jaw. “They’re at it again.” Stepping out of his embrace, she slammed the coffee cup on the counter, where it sloshed out and puddled. “Damn.

“Isn’t it bad enough that I have to fix everyone else’s mistakes, I shouldn’t have to deal with their mischief as well.”

Her children, while fickle at times, were usually responsible and did their jobs. But sometimes, they got lazy or pulled their power plays over each other. When would a Mother’s work ever be done? Apparently never.

With her sternest voice, she called out, “Spring. Winter.” She might as do an attitude adjustment for all. “You too, Summer and Autumn.”

Mere seconds passed as her children appeared. “You called us, Mother Nature?”

#FridayFlash - I've got to leave. (Edited)

Akeva stared at the closed door, unmoving, still processing what had just happened. It wasn’t the swirl of skirts that carried the housekeeper out the door or even the hateful expression on the woman’s face that had shocked Akeva. No, it was the woman’s words.

The food in Akeva’s stomach congealed into a cement brick. The universe was still playing with her, still dropping her into difficult situations without a hint as to which way was up.

One thing she did know: Jean was right, she had to leave. Not because she planned to hurt these people or that she shouldn’t impose on them, but because she didn’t belong here. She belonged with her own family, where they were only a phone call away, and not some strange freak-of-nature-lightning-strike away in who-knew-where.

She glanced at the folded bundle of clothing on the bed, probably Meriel’s own dress, then looked down at her t-shirt and shorts, both spotted with dirt. Shaking her head, she decided that no matter how awful her own clothing looked and how tempting that clean pile was, she wouldn’t take it.

Jean’s words now fueled her. As she tied her boots, she wondered where the hell she’d go. If she retraced her steps back to the stone circle, then maybe she could be transported back home. She snorted, not that she knew where the stone circle was or even how to get back there. She’d just have to ask Meriel.

She entered the hallway outside the bedroom and heard a gasp. At the other end of the hallway stood a woman dressed in similar clothing as Meriel and Jean, holding her hand to her mouth as she gaped at Akeva.

“Do you know where Meriel is?” The woman’s eyes widened as she shook her head, then disappeared through the door next to her.

Before Akeva could search after the woman, footsteps on the stairwell drew her attention. As the person came into view, she recognized the dark hair and ice-blue eyes and her heart thumped. The Kilted Man.

Before she knew it, he stood in front of her, glaring at her. “Have ye no decency?”

Decency, what did wanting to go home have to do with decency? “Where’s Meriel? I need to talk to her.” He pursed his lips as he clutched her arm and firmly guided her back to the bedroom. She glared at him. “What are you doing? Let go.”

“Get yerself in there and get properly dressed.”

“Properly dressed?” Akeva yanked her elbow out of his grip and made for the stairs.

He blocked her path and shook his head. “Ye canna be walking about like that. The servants are already gossiping, aye?” He reached for her arm.

“Touch me again and you’ll be wearing that skirt for a good reason.” She lifted her knee to make good on her threat. He lowered his hand, but didn’t back away.

“For all that is sacred, get back in there.”

“Just tell me where I can find Meriel, then I’ll be out of your hair.” She looked at his unmoving form, then added, “Please.”

He shook his head and pointed to the bedroom. Her blood boiled, not even Tim treated her like this.
She ducked around him and jogged to the stairs. He let out an exasperated breath, then his footsteps came from behind her. Let him follow, but if he touches me again …

Turning her focus to finding Meriel, she descended the narrow staircase. At the bottom, she opened the first door and stepped right into a medieval kitchen, complete with a fire burning beneath a pot in a large hearth. Two women standing near the hearth stopped talking as they saw her at the door. Jean glared at her while the other woman’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Akeva backed out of the kitchen, closed the door, then ran into the Kilted Man. Turning to face him, she said, “Either help me or get out of my way.”

He stepped aside and waited for her to move past him. Akeva sighed. So much for gallantry, or simple courtesy. As she moved past him, he said, “I did help ye when I told ye to dress.”

“Some help that was.”

She glanced around and found another door across the hallway. Might as well try this one. Inside a rustic living room, she found Meriel talking to another kilted man, not nearly as impressive as the one following her. Maybe it really was Scotland with all these kilts. Meriel furrowed her brows and the man’s face turned red and his lips puckered when the saw Akeva.

The Kitled Man’s voice came from behind her. “I found her at the top of the stairs. Against better judgement, she insists on speaking with ye. Now. As she is.”

Akeva could feel his disapproving gaze on her. What did she care what he thought? She threw him a dirty look, then turned back to Meriel.

“Sorry to interrupt, but…” Akeva strode into the room, ignoring both men, and stopped before Meriel. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I’ve got to leave.”

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 Edited to add:  If you'd like to read previous posts in this story, check out this link.

#FridayFlash - Just Go.

Could it be true?

Akeva’s hands shook as she placed her belongings back in her backpack, not that it mattered if she damaged them now. The most important things in her life were nothing but the most expensive and technologically advanced doorstops in the world.

Was it even probable? Statistics weren’t Akeva’s strong point, but she knew the chances of time travel were infinitely small. Yet here she stood wearing some old fashioned nightgown in the middle of what they said was Scotland, 1661.

Too anxious to do nothing while she waited for Meriel to return, Akeva ignored her protesting muscles and left the comfortable bed. But once out of the bed, she didn’t know what to do, so she paced the cramped space of the tiny room.

“This can’t be happening.”

If she could think this through, she’d find a logical explanation for all of it, the lightning, getting lost in the forest, waking up here.

She moved through the small space, touching things, making sure they were real. The rustic chair, check. The dresser, check. She pulled at the nightgown collar, check. All real. Even the cold wood floor under her bare feet felt real. So if everything was real, then she had to be somewhen else, not 1661.

Wait a minute. She pulled out a dresser drawer, searching for metal rails and ball bearings, but shook her head when she found only wood. Running her fingers along the dovetail joints, she couldn’t find any evidence of wood glue.

“It could still be a luddite community of sorts.” She slide the drawer back in. “A community that kept a weird calendar and believed they were in Scotland.” She shook her head at the thought. “Right.”

To accept that she’d traveled in a lightning flash, had landed in the middle of some strange parallel universe, stuck in what would’ve been Renaissance times was crazy. “Not possible, it had to be dream.”

Remembering that people couldn’t read in their dreams, Akeva searched the room for anything to read. Not even finding a magazine, she hastily pulled out her camera operation manual and read the page introducing aperture priority mode. She threw the book on top of the bag. “Not a dream.”

Akeva stared out the window at the large hills beyond the green fields and trees of the large. She’d spent spent three miserably long days in those hills, wandering and looking for help. When she couldn’t even find the Big Dipper in the sky, she’d assumed once she’d found people that everything would make sense. And now that she’d literally tripped upon help, she couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation. And no closer to getting home.

Someone cleared a throat, startling Akeva. She turned to find Jean carrying a tray piled with food into the room. At the thought of food Akeva’s stomach grumbled.

Placing the food on the dresser, she said, “For yer wame.” The housekeeper wore the same guarded expression as before.

Akeva didn’t care that she stuffed her mouth, or that the dry biscuit stuck to the roof of her mouth. It had been three days since she’d had a decent meal, she’d eat just about anything at the moment. However, the old woman’s scowl deepened as Akeva reached for another with one hand and for water with her other hand.

After devouring another biscuit and a long drink, Akeva wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “This is almost better than a double bacon cheeseburger.” The woman’s silence hit her like a sledgehammer. Without a word, the housekeeper left the room. “Whatever. Just trying to be nice.”

Alone again, she resumed trying to make sense of her situation. By the time she finished the cheese and apples on her plate, she still had no better handle on what to do.

Then the door opened again and in walked Jean, again, this time carrying a bundle of clothing. The woman kept her distance as she placed it on the bed, “Put these on.”

Akeva said, “Thanks.”

With barely a nod, the housekeeper acknowledged Akeva’s appreciation. Then, still keeping her silence, Jean retrieved the tray. The woman shook her head as she noticed all the food was gone.

Akeva couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed at her gluttony, especially after three days of only trail mix and water. Let the old woman sit in judgement, it wasn’t like Akeva could stop her. Besides she had larger issues to deal with, like figuring out what to do.

At the door, Jean turned back and glowered at Akeva. With her stone hard voice, she said, “I dinna ken who ye are or from where ye hail, nor do I care. But that Meriel has a soft spot for folks, always assuming the best of a person. Dinna be taking advantage of the lass’s trusting nature.” Her cold, grey eyes glared at Akeva, “This family doesna need yer kind of trouble. So, it would be best for everyone that ye leave this place. Soon.”

#FridayFlash - Where Am I?

This scene might answer some questions that you may have. I probably should've posted this before the last one, but I'm still playing with the order of scenes and had thought to leave this for later. (Thanks for the feedback, Jen!)

Here are links to the other scenes I've posted.

• A Letter
• Hunting to come
• Lightning
• Found
• If you want to read in order, today's scene fits here.
• Dinna tell

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Akeva couldn’t shake the feeling that she should be taking care of something important. Lying in a warm cocoon of comfort, Akeva burrowed into the bed with the hope that she’d stay asleep. Maybe she’d dream about that kilted man with his strong arms wrapped around her again.

Instead of seeing the Kilted Man’s ice-blue eyes, disjointed images flickered through her mind. A red-rocked desert, lightning flashes, a stone circle, endless green glens, a rustic house, and finally the Kilted Man lunging at her as she fell. Akeva eyes flew open and she broke out in a sweat. Shit.

Ignoring the protest from her battered body, she pushed herself to sitting. The room swirled around her and she closed her eyes as she took deep breaths.

Damn. It wasn’t exactly sleep she’d been waking from, but another one of her faints. And as usual, it had occurred at the most illogical and inconvenient time, not that now was any better.

Several seconds passed before the ringing in her ears stopped. When Akeva opened her eyes again, she found two concerned women watching her, both dressed like characters in a period movie. While uttering something that Akeva couldn’t discern, the younger one held out a cup to her.

Akeva accepted the cup, and after a tentative taste, she gulped down the water like a person in a desert. “Thanks.”

The young woman’s brows lifted. “Ye dinna have the Gaidlig?” Akeva frowned, the woman’s thick accent made it difficult to understand her.

From her perch in the bed, she glanced around the small room, taking in the rustic nature of the chair, candle sconces, fireplace, and dresser. Despite its’ sparseness, it was better than the hard and cold ground she’d slept on the past few nights. “Where am I?”

A smile lit up the young woman’s face. “Faradoch den Beithe.” Before Akeva could ask where that was, the older woman cleared her throat, causing the young woman to roll her oddly familiar ice-blue eyes. “Jean, our housekeeper, would have me say this house belongs to my husband, Ennis, Laird Faradoch den Beithe,” she sent the housekeeper a sharp look, “but, I live here too, forbye.” The woman turned her attention back to Akeva. “Ye can be calling me Meriel.  What do we be calling ye?”

“Akeva Riordan.” She lifted her hand for a handshake and the bruises on her arm became visible. Meriel’s smile wavered as she tried to ignore the purple marks. Akeva lowered her arm. “They don’t hurt as much as they did a few days ago.”

Meriel nodded, and before the other woman could ask any questions about how the bruises had been delivered, Akeva asked, “How did I get here?”

“Brian, my cousin, saved ye more bruising by catching ye. When ye dinna wake, he carried ye in to the house.” Brian must be the Kilted Man. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Akeva glanced around the room again, this time looking for a phone, but not finding one. “Could you lend me a phone, I need to call my Dad.”

Meriel’s brows furrowed. “Phone?”

Oh. The strange dialect, the old clothing, and the rustic room finally made sense. She must’ve stumbled into an Amish or Quaker settlement, not that she’d ever visited such a place, even growing up in Ohio. Places without modern technology never held any appeal for her. She believed in better living through printed circuit boards. Of course they wouldn’t have a phone, but there must be one nearby.

“Could you take me to the nearest phone?” Akeva pushed away the quilt and swung her legs off the bed, but Meriel’s firm hand on her shoulder kept her in bed.

“Och, no, lass. Ye had to be carried into this house, ye will stay right there in that bed.”

Just that attempt to get out of bed had reminded her how weak she’d become over the past few days. Akeva sighed. “Could someone call my Dad. He’s probably frantic since I haven’t called him.” Both women frowned at her with confusion written on their faces.

“My cell phone died, probably from electrical shock in that thunderstorm.” Akeva searched for her pack, she’d show them her phone. “Where’s my backpack?”

Jean frowned. “Backpack?”

Panic flooded Akeva’s body. I lost it.

Meriel stooped over and lifted a black bundle. “Ye mean this?” The woman held it out in front of her like it might explode.

Relief washed over Akeva as she grabbed the bag from Meriel. “Thanks.”

Akeva pulled out empty snack wrappers, her digital camera, and her laptop before she found her phone. “Figures it would be at the bottom.” She held up the device that held half of her life. Her laptop held the other half. She pushed the power button and nothing happened. “Like I said, it’s fried.” She hoped they’d be willing to help her even if it went against their anti-technology beliefs.

The younger woman’s brows furrowed, leaving a deep line between them. Jean’s hissed as she took a step back, her narrow-eyed gaze fixed on the items on Akeva’s lap.

What’s with them? It wasn’t like the stuff would kill them, her devices barely qualified as paper weights.

In a whisper, Meriel asked,  “What are those?”

Really? Could there be people who didn’t know a camera or phone when they saw one? “Just my dead electronics. Like I said, I’d use my phone or my laptop to get in touch with my Dad, but they’re fried.”

Akeva opened her laptop and pushed the power button for what must’ve been the thousandth time in three days. And like all the other nine hundred and ninety nine times of pressing that button, she received no response. No spinning hard drive, no screen flicker. Nothing.

Closing the lid, she sighed as she thought about the cost of buying a replacement for the laptop, she’d have to wait on a camera. Damn.

“Electronics?”

Unnerved by Meriel’s strange pronunciation of the word, Akeva glanced at the two women. Jean glared at Akeva with suspicion, while Meriel wore a wary expression. Were they angry because she’d brought modern gadgets into their house? It wasn’t like she’d meant to cause them trouble, she just wanted help getting home.

“Um,” Akeva shifted in the bed, “if I could call my Dad, I’d be out of your hair as soon as he can get here.”

Meriel’s eyes settled on the pile of items on Akeva’s lap, then to the phone in Akeva’s hand. She reached out. “Do ye mind?” Akeva handed it to the woman.

Turning the phone over in her hands, running her fingers over the smooth buttons, Meriel seemed entranced by the device. The old woman shook her head and stepped back again when Meriel held it out to her. “I am no going to touch the wicked thing.”

Meriel stood with an expression of awe, curiosity, and maybe a little fear. The feeling of unease Akeva’d been feeling grew. Meriel turned to Akeva. “And what are ye supposed to do with this?”

This house, as far as she could see, had no modern conveniences. They wore clothing that Akeva only expected to see in period movies. And now, their reaction to her devices made Akeva’s gut twist into a knot.

Putting the phone back in the backpack, she asked, “Where exactly are we?” When Meriel looked confused by her question, she tried again, “What city?”

Meriel frowned. “The closest town is Naern, only a few days ride from here.” A few days ride? Akeva didn’t remember seeing Naern on the Arizona map.

“Ye must have hit ye heid verra hard if ye dinna ken where ye are.” Meriel’s smile reminded Akeva of the placating type an adult gives a young child. Or a crazy person. “Ye are in Clan Chisolm lands, in the Highlands.”

“As in the Scottish Highlands?” She may be a geography-challenged American, but—

“Aye.”

Her reality was unraveling right in front of her. Akeva swallowed hard, then asked, “What’s today’s date?”

Meriel gave her that smile for simpletons again. “The sixth of August.”

No matter how sure she was of the answer, she had to ask her next question. “What year?”

Meriel’s brows furrowed again as she glanced from Akeva’s face, to the devices, and back to her face. “1661, o’ course.”

“Scotland, 1661?"

She couldn’t believe it. No, she didn’t want to believe. As a physics major in college, she’d learned about string theory and multiverses, all of it just hypothetical constructs. The bed beneath her, the strange clothing,  the women who had no idea what to do with a cell phone, these weren’t hypothetical constructs. Very non-hypothetical.

Sure, the landscape she’d traveled certainly resembled photographs of Scotland, but she’d reasoned the unusually placed countryside could’ve been some hidden oasis in the middle of the Arizona high desert. Out in the dark hills that first night after waking at the stone circle, when she’d tried to navigate by the blinking stars, she hadn’t been able to find Orion or the Big Dipper. She’d entertained the idea that she’d  stumbled into a time travel corridor, a mashup of real life physics and elements of science fiction novels. It was just an idea, but ...

Had she really traveled from an Arizona vortex from 2008 to a Scottish stone circle in 1661? Was it possible she’d traveled thousands of miles and hundreds of years? In a flash of lighting?

Meriel said, “Aye.”

#FridayFlash - Dinna Tell

Brian kept his face calm, hiding his surprise at Meriel’s request. Now he understood why she’d insisted they stand in the middle of the sitting room, speaking in hushed voices. “Ye dinna have to ask, I willna say anything about the lass.” With his chin, he pointed to the door. “But the talk has already begun.”

Jean nodded once before she spat out her words. “Aye, I caught that loose-tongued Mairi asking one of the stable lads if they had seen our young hero here,” her lips pursed as she sent him a pointed look, “but she will no be saying anything more, forbye.”

“I wager she doesna have to.” Brian rubbed his throbbing hand as he recalled a brief conversation in the barn. While Brian had been unloading his horse, a groomsmen had asked Brian if he’d “aided” the lass in a tone that hinted at less than gentlemanly help.

Meriel noticed Brian’s swollen knuckles and frowned. “Which one was it?”

He could never keep a secret from Meriel, even if he tried. “Ye will ken when ye see him.”

Meriel sighed and shook her head. “Och, aye, I dare say I will.” Now it was her turn to give him one of her looks. “I thought ye would ken better.”

Brian shrugged, of course he did. Why else would the Clan Rose chief routinely send him on diplomacy errands, particularly those to the Freuchie. Yet, that didn’t mean he had to stand idle listening to a groomsman’s lewd accusations about the lass upstairs, no matter what the lass may have done or wore. “I was just teaching him some manners.”

Meriel sent him a pointed look, then said, “I will have a conversation with Ennis about the lads. In the meantime, dinna add fuel to the fire.”

Brian gave her a curt nod. “As I recall, it isna my behavior that ye wanted to discuss.”

What about the lass caused this distress? That made Meriel demand secrecy?  He glanced at Jean for a clue but only found the taciturn housekeeper glaring at him. Turing to Meriel, Brian asked, “What did she say?”

The dim light of the afternoon filtered through the tree outside the window and dappled light fell into the room. Even with the uneven light, he noticed the tight corners of her lips as Brian waited for Meriel to answer. Bran could feel the worry thrumming on his cousin’s skin.

What could the lass have said that could be so terrible? Had she killed the man who had marked her? Was she hunted? What?

“I am still making sense of it, aye?” She gave Brian a wan smile and sighed again, her shoulders sagging. “It’s nay for ye to be concerned about.”

“What do you want me to say to the people who ask about the lass? Mairi saw that the lass was practically naked. I guarantee that is one detail she will pass on,” he gave Jean a pointed look, “no matter your reprimand.”

The images of her bare limbs covered with purple bruises came unbidden to his mind. How could someone have done that to her? He fisted his hand again.

Meriel interrupted his thoughts. “I dinna ken.” A corner of her mouth lifted. “Ye are a gentleman the last time I checked. I am sure ye will come up with a suitable answer,” she paused, “a civilized one I hope.”

Meriel turned to Jean. The older woman answered Meriel’s question with a brief nod before leaving the room.

Brian grasped Meriel’s elbow to keep her from following the housekeeper out the door and guided her to a chair. “Sit.”

Meriel bristled at his command, but she complied. He sat on the edge of the sofa facing her. “There is more to this than ye are telling me. What is it?”

She lifted her chin and peered at him. “I dinna confide everything with ye.” Why was she so defensive? Why was she not answering his question?

“Aye, that is true, but I think I deserve to ken what all the secrecy is about, I carried her in here after all.”

Meriel turned away, her gaze settled on the glass figurines that sat on the shelf. His cousin sat quietly thinking with those lines between her brows. What was it about the lass upstairs that caused his cousin to be so secretive, so upset?

Brian sat back, deciding to wait her out, but when nearly a minute passed in silence he couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “I canna imagine anything so bad that ye canna tell me.” Meriel twitched, unusual for her. “If ye worried about the lass and the man,” and he used that term loosely, “that hurt—“

“Brian, it’s n—“

The sitting room door swung open and Ennis strode in, slamming the heavy door behind him. “I should have kent the Rose yelp would be hiding out with his protector.” Ennis stopped in front of Brian and glared at him. “How dare ye bring a woman such as that into my hame. Have ye nay shame?”

Brian stood up and clamped his jaw tight to keep his silence. Meriel rose and placed her hand on Ennis’s shoulder to calm him. He shook it off.

Ennis glared at Brian and blocked Brian’s view of Meriel. “Dinna look to her for help. Ye are no better than a bairn, always hiding behind her skirts.”

Brian took a step froward, returning Ennis’s stare. By Brian’s count, he owed Ennis hundreds of punches for every insult he uttered about himself or his family, and he felt the need to deliver each and every one right now. He is Meriel’s husband. He couldn’t hurt Meriel by doing her husband harm, even if the bastard deserved it. Too bad Meriel hadn’t married someone else. Knowing how Ennis would rage at the thought, Brian chuckled as he stared down the man.

“Ennis.” Hearing Meriel’s sharp voice, Ennis blinked, and she moved to her husband’s side, restraining Ennis with a simple touch of her hand on his arm. “Brian found the lass as he prepared to leave. He only brought her in as she needed tending to.” Ennis’s eyes squinted at Brian, as if trying to see the truth written on Brian’s face.

“Dinna fash, Meriel. I am certain Ennis,” Ennis’ eyes tighten at Brian’s use of his given name rather than his title of Laird, “would have been grace himself and helped her had he been the one to find her.”

No one disputed the blatant lie, but Brian felt Meriel’s disapproval roll off her in waves. Ennis’ already icy glare hardened, causing Brian to grin again.

Ennis turned away from Brian to speak to his wife. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs in Brian’s room. Resting.”

Ennis completely turned his back on Brian before addressing Meriel again. “I will speak to ye. Alone”

“Good day to ye too, Ennis.” Brian walked out of the suddenly too crowded sitting room. Better that Meriel deal with the man, she could to calm the man as only she could. Not even Brian’s father, a respected clan chief, could effectively deal with the hot-heided Ennis for any length of time.

The door clicked behind him and a snort escaped him. For his act of decency towards the mysterious lass, he’d become the subject of the latest gossip, punched a man, and nearly came to fisticuffs with his cousin’s husband. And he didn’t even know her name.

#FridayFlash - Hunting to Come

Another bit for your Friday Reading.

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Whisky. One of the few things that he enjoyed in this forsaken place. The last of his whisky burned its way down into his stomach. Everyday Edison Simpson thanked his ill fortune for all the amber liquid he found in abundance in these parts. Sometimes the peaty-flavored liquid gold was the only thing that kept him sane.

He glanced at the men sitting next to him at the long table, worn soft by long years of use. Many of them were locals probably escaping from a nagging wife at home, but a few of them were travelers like himself, looking for a decent meal and decent drink at this village inn. He knew one of them had to have helpful information, know of someone, or have heard a story that didn’t ring true. He refused to accept the alternative.

As he placed his cup on the wooden table, he decided they’d drunk enough of his offerings. Time to get what he wanted. With a casualness he didn’t feel, he asked, “Where is the closest stone circle?”

The men kept their eyes on their plates and chewed their bland stew and bannocks, not even acknowledging they’d heard him. Not that he could blame them, folks avoided talking about the damned things. A superstitious lot with good reason, as he well knew.

Minutes passed as spoons continued to scrape bowls and inane chatter drifted over from the other tables. The inn-keeper’s wife patrolled the room, stopping to talk to customers. He found it curious that she avoided his table, she probably knew something. How could he arrange to question her?

He brought his attention back to his primary quarry. The men’s continued silence assaulted his hearing, as it did every time he asked these questions. He considered himself a patient man, but his growing desperation was chipping away much of his forbearance.

Taking a deep breath, he realized he’d have to open the lines of communication a bit more, loosen their tongues. Glancing around, he caught the inn keeper’s attention and lifted the empty whisky jug. The man’s curt nod signaled that a new bottle would be coming soon, the frown on the man’s face expressed the man’s displeasure.

Setting the jug down with more force that was necessary, Edison sat up straighter on his bench. He could care less what the judgmental man thought of all the drinking. Getting men drunk and letting them talk was a sight easier than beating an answer out of them. He’d learned that lesson in the army.

What he wouldn’t give to be with his men right now searching for enemies among the grand plantations of those tobacco and cotton farms, even in the cold and damp winters. That’s where he belonged, not here in this run-down inn, plying men with liquor for the answer to his most important question, the question that he could never ask another living soul.

He sighed. What had his men made of his disappearance? Given his service record, they probably thought him dead. His jaw tightened as he reasoned he might as well be given his current circumstances. With a shake of his head, he gave up feeling sorry for himself, there was no time for that.

No matter. He intended to return to his men, to the war, to get away from this treeless, machineless, backwards, God-forsaken—

The innkeeper set the jug in front of him interrupting his internal tirade. He nodded his thanks and poured himself a drink. Without putting the jug down, he tossed back the contents of his cup then refilled it before giving a portion to each of the men around him.

The man next to him, nodded his thanks before he sampled more of the amber liquid. After an appreciative sigh, the man said, “Leave them be, man, strange happenings occur at those cursed stones. Dinna look for trouble.”

Edison chuckled. “I’m not looking for trouble.” It was entirely too late for that. As a matter of fact, he was looking to get out of trouble, out of here, away from those cursed things that had ruined his life. He took another swig of his drink.

The beady-eyed man with the red nose squinted at Edison from down the length of table, suspicion written clearly on his face. “Only fae and witches are play around those wicked places. Which would ye be?”

Edison refused the impulse to challenge the man for his insolent accusation, instead he sent him a sharp glare. “Fairies and witches? What would you know about that?” Unable to stand the heat of Edison’s gaze, the beady-eyed man looked down to focus his attention on his meal before him. Edison muttered to himself, “I thought not.”

Fairy tales and witches. He might as well be listening to slaves talk about their voodoo dolls. All of it nonsense. Except, for the strangeness of the stones, which he knew to be true. Knew all too well.

He took another swallow of his whisky, welcoming the burn, forcing the memories of that day away. With all the whisky tonight, he would have no nightmares. Another reason to love whisky.

The innkeeper took the empty plate from Edison and peered at him, suspicion clear on his face. “Are ye one of those who chase after witches?” The warning note in the old man’s voice wasn’t for Edison’s benefit, but for those sitting at the table. Damn the man for warning the others, and for no good reason.

Edison leveled his gaze at the innkeeper, silently cursing the man. Edison wouldn’t lose what little in roads he’d gained, he needed answers. He’d have to use the tool handed him by the meddlesome old man. “It should be every man’s occupation to rid this world of evil. Don’t you agree?”

Someone at the table behind him whispered the words that would, depending on the men’s sense of security, either make Edison’s gamble on this village and all the coin he’d spent on food and drink tonight a waste or boon.

Witch hunter. Someone that sought out suspected evil doers, only to make them disappear, never to be heard from again.

The irony that he should be considered at witch hunger struck him hilarious, but he refrained from laughing, allowing a corner of his mouth curl up. If his suddenly larger and very attentive audience should take his reaction as proof that he was a witch hunter, so be it. Particularly if it gained him the information he needed. Edison took another swig from his cup, all the while keeping his eyes on his audience.

Bits & Pieces

Bits: Inspired by Lisa Cohen's recent decision to share her short stories, I've decided to post more bits of my first story as #FridayFlash. (I've already posted a few scenes here, here, and here. Those posts inspired by Sylvia van Bruggen's posts.) My practice won't follow all the guidelines of the #FridayFlash community, but hopefully it captures the spirit: writing and sharing one's work. As a side benefit, it will force me to finish the story revision. Since I intend to focus most of my attentions on my other revision in process, my posts may be a bit sporadic. Why do this, beyond wanting to share? Akeva and Brian just won't let me be with Angie and Jason exclusively, so this is my compromise.


Pieces: How is that 2nd story revision going? Well, another scene is done. My scenes-to-do list continues to shrink, one piece at a time. The next scene actually requires the revised back-story I created a few weeks ago. I  look forward to changing the dynamics between characters with this new information.

Bits & Pieces Together: Yesterday, my husband asked if I had a plan in place to prep for November's NaNoWriMo. No, as I hadn't planned on participating this year. But since he mentioned it, of course I can't stop thinking about the thrill of a new story. Luckily, I've got something I could develop and wedge into my writing schedule. Anyone else planning on NaNoWriMo?

#FridayFlash - Found

A very short version of what I originally planned. And mostly the last one for a while. Enjoy...


Brian Rose tightened the strap on his horse again. Delaying again, get on with it, man.

He’d arrived at Faradoch den Beithe three days ago, prolonging his absence from home further by calling on his cousin, Meriel, and her family. That he would put up with Meriel’s insufferable husband, Ennis, was proof that he’d do just about anything to postpone dealing with his mother.

He checked his bags again.

A voice called from outside the barn. Glad for the interruption, he left his horse saddled and walked outside. 

An unfamiliar voice said, “Finally.” Brian turned towards the voice and nearly bumped into a bonny lass, her shapely form clearly outlined in a soiled, sleeveless shirt and breeches that left her legs bare.

Her green eyes opened in surprise, then her face lit up with relief. She reached out  to him, about to say something, then fainted. He lunged to catch her before she crashed to the ground.

After wrestling off her black bag, he laid her on the ground. Searching for wounds, he found dirt, scratches, and bruises. Blue-black bruises, framed with yellow that blanketed every part of her, even her face. How could anyone deliver blows to leave marks such as these?

Beads of sweat formed on her skin, yet her forehead felt cool to the touch. She needed help. Brian scooped up the lass and her satchel, then trekked back to the house.

Brian glanced down at the limp body in his arms, he’d covered her with his kilt to give her protection from any curious onlookers they might encounter. The few strips of her clothing barely covered her, leaving nothing to the imagination about her womanly curves. Why was she no wearing skirts like a respectable lass?

Her exposed legs and form fitting clothing weren’t the most shocking things about this stranger, nor the way she had literally dropped into his arms. Brian was not a squeamish person, but the sight of her bruises turned his stomach.

#FridayFlash - Lightning

More #fridayflash for you. Enjoy...

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three--," Akeva winced as the deafening boom rattled her bones. Arizona monsoon clouds loomed overhead, she hadn't realized the storm was that close. Five Mississippis closer than her last count a few minutes ago. Shit.

Of course the storm traveled much faster than her, it didn't have to rely on legs to get through a mini-obstacle course. Unless by some miracle, she wasn't going to reach the safety of her car, which was about five miles away, before the worst of the storm hit.

But she kept running over rust-colored dirt and past twisted juniper trees. It wasn't like she could stop and take cover. Where would she hide from the marble sized raindrops that pelted her skin out in the middle of the Sedona desert? Plus, she couldn't run too fast otherwise one of those loose, rocks that littered the ground would leave her limping back to her car or unable to walk at all.

Never mind her backpack, or the things inside it; too much bumping and her electronics would be toast. At least the bag would keep them dry, or mostly dry. Akeva didn't want to contemplate buying all new electronics just before starting grad school. So, she ran holding her pack straps tight, trying to minimize the damage to her precious cargo. Fortunately, there wasn't anyone around to witness her running like a dork.

Water dripped freely down her face. Any other time she'd enjoy the dusty smell of the rain, even try to photograph some lightning strikes. Not now. Frequent lightning strikes lit the sky and the dark desert, while thunder echoed off the rocks and the rain fell in earnest now.


Definitely not a good situation - rain, lightning, no shelter, and electronics.

"Idiot."

Akeva couldn't believe she'd ignored the signs and kept photographing. If she'd heeded the waiter's advice this morning, she'd be nice and safe in the hotel room or in her car driving to California. He'd warned her about monsoon storms, how they would sneak up and cause havoc, spawning deadly flash floods that took people by surprise. But she'd lost focus of everything except for the majestic Bell Rock. She'd filled nearly all her memory cards trying to capture the beauty of the magnificent rock formation.

And now, she was paying the price.

She ran past a small gully, thankful it hadn't started to run with water, and berated herself. She should've kept driving to San Francisco instead of detouring to Sedona to photograph the area. But how could she have driven so close and not tried to emulate all those gorgeous photos she'd seen on the internet? She'd reasoned a day trip wouldn't affect her plans much, just one day less in Berkeley to find an apartment. Her soon to be new roommate, LeeAnn, had totally understood, had even encouraged her to make the side trip.

Another blinding flash. "One Mississippi, t--,"

The world turned bright and everything shimmered. Akeva wasn't sure why her body began to tingle, but she knew she had to get to shelter. Now.

She released her pack and ran full out. It was her life or her electronics, she chose life.

The tingling in her body intensified with the each lightning strike, like the storm was causing the strange sensation running through her body. If she wasn't running for her life, she would have laughed at the insane idea.

She still couldn't see the road. How much further was it?

Another fear gripped Akeva. What if in her hurry to get out of the storm, she'd gone the wrong direction?

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Bell Rock loomed over her, but--

A brilliant, white flash blinded her as pain incinerated her body, then everything went black.

A #FridayFlash