Category Archives: Fantasy

Song Lyric Sunday ~ Magic

Please note that I scheduled my Heart song long before I knew Jim was also doing a song from them! 😀

Jim gives us some supernatural words to work with this week and I went for magic, as in Heart’s “Magic Man.” This song was written in 1975 by Ann and Nancy Wilson for their debut album Dreamboat Annie and was inspired by Ann’s personal relationship with their band manager.

Cold, late night so long ago
When I was not so strong you know
A pretty man came to me
I never seen eyes so blue
You know, I could not run away it seemed
We’d seen each other in a dream
Seemed like he knew me, he looked right through me, yeah

“Come on home, girl” he said with a smile
“you don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high awhile
But try to understand, try to understand
Try, try, try to understand, I’m a magic man”

Winter nights we sang in tune
Played inside the months of moon
“Never think of never, let this spell last forever”
Well, summer lover passed to fall
Tried to realize it all
Mama says she’s worried, growing up in a hurry

“Come on home, girl” Mama cried on the phone
“Too soon to lose my baby yet, my girl should be at home”
But try to understand, try to understand
Try, try, try to understand, he’s a magic man, Mama, ah
He’s a magic man

“Come on home, girl” he said with a smile
“I cast my spell of love on you, a woman from a child”
But try to understand, try to understand
Oh, oh, try, try, try to understand,
He’s a magic man, oh, he’s got the magic hands

“Come on home, girl” he said with a smile
“You don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high awhile”
But try to understand, try to understand
Try, try, try to understand, he’s a magic man, yeah, oh

Video may be triggery.

Borrow the Lyrics Challenge ~ Tupelo Honey

I’ve been tagged by Rory of a Guy Called Bloke for a fun new game. 😀🎶🎉

Rules (as copied from the creator):

  1. You need to choose a verse from a song and use it in an original poem or story.
  2. You must include the name of the song and the singer at the end or beginning.
  3. You need to challenge someone else and invent ONE rule they need to follow.
  4. You must credit the person who started this challenge (a.k.a. PJ) and the person who challenged you.
  5. You must include the rules of this challenge.

Rory’s extra rule is “free thought.”

My song is the beautiful “Tupelo Honey” by Van Morrison, and here is a gorgeous video for you, with lyrics on screen:

Tupelo Honey

Fred threw the final bag onto the boat. It wasn’t all the tea in China, but it was a lot, and he’d reached the weight limit. Each burlap sack contained paper bags full of tea leaves, all bought for a fair price, in various shops along the coast. He planned to sail alone, to maximize the amount of tea he could bring, but at the last minute he’d hired a small crew member who could communicate in English.

“Where are we going?” Liane asked.

“Welp, first we sail right around all seven oceans.”

Liane gaped at him. “You’re shitting me. In this boat? I quit!”

“Okay, okay.” Fred tried to calm her down. He really didn’t know much about sailing. “Maybe we skip the Arctic.”

“It’ll be monsoon season in India soon.” She rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Fred said. “We won’t go there either. Can we do five seas? That’s close enough.”

“Close enough for what?” Liane checked the rigging.

“To drop all this tea straight into the deep blue sea.”

Liane stood up straight and glared at him like a furious five foot tornado. “Why the fuck would you want to waste all this tea?”

“Because she’s as sweet as Tupelo honey.”

“Who? And what’s Tupelo?”

Fred sighed. “Just this girl who broke my heart back in college. I’ve never gotten over her. She was very sweet. And Tupelo is a city in Kansas. Supposedly the best honey comes from Tupelo. Not that I’ve ever actually had any.”

“Hang on,” Liane said. “How sweet can she be if she broke your heart? What did she do?”

“She dumped me for a rock star.” Fred’s eyes filled with tears at the memory. “I was only ever going to be a boring poetry teacher.”

“We need teachers here,” Liane said. “She sounds like a twat.”

Fred took a deep breath. “That doesn’t matter now. The important thing is to keep my vow about the tea. I always told her she was worth all the tea in China. And she was as sweet as–”

“Tupelo honey.” Liane rolled her eyes. “I get it. But hey. How about instead of doing this dumbass tea-dumping thing, we open a poetry and tea shop? My aunt has a small space we could lease. And by we I mean you. I know how to make tea though. You’ll be in charge of the poetry.”

“Hmm,” Fred pondered. “A new road to freedom?”

~*~

Okay then! I tag Jim Adams. Jim, please follow the numbered rules above with this additional instruction: use any song with the word “kiss” in it. Have fun!

~*~

PS: I see Tupelo is in Mississippi. Whatever!

The Quiet Life [fiction 325]

“There she is!”

“Oh, my God! She’s really alive.”

“Can you believe it? After all these years!”

The Countess waved gracefully to the crowd gathered on the lawn. She had agreed to answer a few questions and pointed to a reporter near the edge of the stone steps. Two armed guards stood at the bottom of each side of the steps, ostensibly to deter anyone from coming too close.

“Countess Greta,” the reporter said. “It’s so good to see you again. What inspired you to emerge from your solitude?”

Greta smiled and indicated the perfectly maintained grounds. “I wanted a fresh lemon for my afternoon tea.”

Everyone laughed politely. It wasn’t a real answer, for they all knew the Countess could summon a servant to fetch a lemon.

Another reporter asked, “We were used to seeing you dressed in mourning black. Does your more colorful attire signal a change in your lifestyle as well? Will you be entering society again?”

The crowd murmured. It was a bold question, to indirectly refer to the death of the Count. No one really knew what had happened, though of course there were many stories and rumors, some of them bordering on the scandalous and vile.

But Greta appeared unfazed. She touched the lace of her heather pink dress and said, “Oh, thank you for noticing my gown. It is springtime after all. But I do prefer the quiet life of reading poetry and painting watercolors in my studio.”

A few more questions followed regarding her taste in poets and such. One of the guards subtly shifted position, at which point, the Countess said, “It’s been lovely chatting with you all. We shall do it again soon.” With that, she disappeared back into the cavernous castle.

“She has so much class.”

“So ephemeral.

“Such a great beauty, even now.”

“How old is she? Does anyone know?”

“The guards seemed more concerned with keeping her in than keeping us out.”

~*~

Written for The Daily Echo

Thursday Inspiration 12

Welcome to Thursday Inspiration! This is my weekly prompt post and hopefully it will inspire you to write something creative, perhaps a poem or a piece of flash fiction. If you’d like to share your writing with the community, please indulge me and tag your post with #p0eticlicense and/or #lightm0tifs, and of course link back if you wish. I will try to visit everyone who participates. 🙂

This week’s theme is garden and the picture is below. Here is the song snippet from “Octopus’s Garden,” written by Richard Starkey in 1969:

I‘d like to be under the sea
In an octopus’ garden in the shade
He’d let us in, knows where we’ve been
In his octopus’ garden in the shade

Photo found on Pixabay

The Last Firewall

She’d dreamt this moment

Into being, and behold!

His fearsome form appeared

Like an emerald angel,

Launched from the stars.

No angel he, but a vengeful beast,

Intent on destruction, far and wide.

That’s why she’d been hidden here,

Behind the last firewall,

Safe from the dragon’s ire.

They’d built an asbestos tower

To keep her from her prince,

Yet here he was, anger flowing

In molten streams of red and gold,

But accomplishing nothing.

She waited, wondering…

What would be his strategy?

Surely he would rescue her,

Not fail, after coming this far.

But he drank from the moat

Of Hypnos and lay down to sleep.

She cried bitter tears

That turned into a river of ice;

If only he’d known

He could have whispered her name

And the gate

Would have opened.

PFF5 ~ Holy Matrimony!

Welcome to my Friday Flashback! This post originally appeared here on July 5, 2014. I hope you enjoy the romance novel review even if you aren’t a fan of the genre.

At The Duke’s Wedding

At The Duke’s Wedding [dead link deleted] is a collection of four novellas, all set at a grand old English estate during the week of festivities surrounding the wedding of the Duke of Wessex. Each novella has a different author.

 

WARNING ~ SPOILERS ABOUND ~ CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK!

 

1. That Rogue Jack by Maya Rodale. This story is incredibly, tediously stupid. Jack is a gorgeous moron who misplaces the heirloom wedding ring he picked up for the groom from a jeweler. Inexplicably, the bride-to-be requests great grand Aunt Whozis’ companion, Henrietta, to get moronic Jack to hand over the ring. They spend days sneaking around trying to find it because Jack, who is a moron, can’t remember where he put it. As they do this, they fall in love. That’s the plot.

2. I was going to stop reading after that first awful story, but decided that wasn’t fair to the other authors. Glad I continued. In P.S. I Love You (by Miranda Neville), the witty and poetic scarred-face Christian reluctantly agrees to write love letters to Rosanne for his boring but good-looking cousin Frank. Of course Chris falls in love with Rosanne because her letters are so charming, and she with him, though of course she thinks he’s Frank. When they all meet at the Duke’s place, complications ensue. Predictable, but actually good.

3. When I Met My Duchess by Caroline Linden.  This story is about the Duke himself, who is not some old gross gouty fellow but young and beefcakey, and how he falls for his betrothed’s hot and unconventional sister the moment she steps down from her carriage in front of his house. Oopsy. I liked it. 

4. How Angela Got Her Rogue Back by Katharine Ashe. The title is misleading and also clunky ~ unforgiveable! But let us proceed. This story involves time-travel, which I don’t mind at all, if it makes some kind of sense. Even a little bit of sense will do. Modern-day Angela materializes at the Duke’s party 200 years earlier after reading a weird book and falling into a Michigan river. That was OK, but less so was the convoluted blackmail scheme she thwarts to save Viscount Studmuffin’s family. What really bugs the crap out of me though is when Angela ~poof~ vanishes again for no reason. I totally lost interest in the story right there. But I finished it of course, and read the teaser for an upcoming story, which has the Duke’s little sister finding Angela’s cell phone…

Onward!

The Annual Biggleton Boat Race

Rocky the Referee stood on the Biggleton Bridge, where he could oversee the annual boat race. No one else was allowed up here during the race to influence him with their pleas and tears. The winner would be determined by a combination of skill and luck, helped along by the ephemeral hand of fate. If there were any shenanigans, Rocky was in control of the distribution of the proper penalties. Several years ago, someone had tried to rig the race, but Rocky had dealt with them harshly, though fairly, and nothing similar had happened since.

Naturally, it was understandable that people became a little emotional over the annual boat race. The losers were promptly killed and eaten at the Annual Biggleton Barbecue.

~*~

I was tagged by Tao-Talk for this challenge, which originated at Nova Namaste. Hope it’s okay if I don’t tag any more peeps. 🙂

Song Lyric Sunday ~ Cards

Jim gives us a gambling theme this week (lots of great songs to choose from!), and I went with cards and the Van Morrison tune “These Dreams of You.” This song was written by VM for his 1970 album Moondance, one of my top fave albums of all time, and was inspired by a dream he had about an assassination attempt on Ray Charles.

I dreamed you paid your dues in Canada
And left me to come through
I headed for the right way
I knew exactly just what to do
I dreamed we played cards in the dark
And you lost and you lied
Wasn’t very hard to do
But hurt me deep down inside

Mmmm, these dreams of you
So real and so true
These dreams of you
So real and so true

My back was up against the wall
And you slowly just walked away
You never really heard my call
When I cried out that way
With my face against the sun
You pointed out for me to go
Then you said I was the one
Had to reap what you did sow

Mmmm, these dreams of you
So real and so true
These dreams of you
So real and so true

And hush-a-bye, don’t ever think about it
Go to sleep don’t ever say one word
Close your eyes, you are an angel sent down from above

And Ray Charles was shot down
But he got up to do his best
A crowd of people gathered round
And to the question answered “yes”
And you slapped me on the face
I turned around the other cheek
You couldn’t really stand the pace
And I would never be so meek

Mmmm, these dreams of you
So real and so true
These dreams of you
So real and so true (but hush-a-bye)

Hush-a-bye, don’t ever think about it
Go to sleep don’t ever say one word
Close your eyes, you are an angel sent down from above

Then hush-a-bye, hush-a-bye, don’t ever think about it

Waiting

I wait for the one who waited for me.

Darkness comes so early
The restless nights grow cold
My spirit sinks down weary
How bereft my tortured soul

I wait for the one who waited for me.

I know now he took no other
His true heart was mine alone
Still, the jealous monsters hovered
And the waves are washing home

I wait for the one who waited for me.

Our love floats on, a ghost
Like the eternal crashing sea
Sirens rage up and down the coast
As we all wait
For the one
Who waited
For
Me.

~*~

Carrot Ranch 99 Word Flash Fiction

We Don’t Want Him

Nicholas Sparks is trending because he refused to accept an LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 club in the Christian school he founded and there’s some ongoing litigation yada. Apparently part of the case has been settled, and he has the legal right to be intolerant, so that’s cool. I more or less support keeping it legal for private clubs to arbitrarily let in and keep out whom they please, as opposed to landlords, employers, public schools, etc. (Whether they should get tax breaks is a different issue.)

Just because something is legal however doesn’t make it good or right. It’s also legal to cheat on your wife. But that’s not what I came here to discuss today. If you don’t already know, Nicholas Sparks is a writer, a hugely bestselling writer. His books have been made into movies. You’ve surely heard of The Notebook? Well, there you go.

In the frenzy to bash Sparks, people have been conflating his books with romance novels and dumping on the whole genre. Now, I don’t mind bashing Sparks ~ I made a yucky 🤮 face on Twitter myself. I can’t stand his sterile prose ~ and that was before I knew he was super religious. Now my review of Safe Haven from 2013 makes a lot more sense.

But let’s be clear: Nicholas Sparks is not a romance novelist. He says himself he isn’t one, and he is correct. He writes general fiction (“love stories”) with romantic elements. It’s an important distinction, peeps! To be a romance novel, a story must have a Happily Ever After ending. If you want to bash the genre, go ahead. If you want to rag on Sparks, for his politics or his writing or both, have at it.

But please don’t lump Nicholas Sparks in with romance novelists. Cuz that just pisses me right off. 😡💥🔥 He’s not welcome in our club. On the whole, you will find the protags in romance novels to be a tolerant lot, or they become tolerant as the story progresses.

I note that in The Daily Beast article I linked in my first sentence, Sparks bags on the whole romance novel genre because he’s a stupid ass who has read none of the books he’s criticizing. Romance novels are not about “the taming of a man” ~ if anything, they err on the side of misogyny, even though they are written largely by women and mostly from the POVs of the female protagonists. What they are, are fantasies of what it would be like if an alpha hero fell in love with you and wanted you more than anything on this earth, and indeed would do anything on this earth to make you his own. And he succeeds. That is what romance novels are and why those of us who love them, love them. ❤️❤️❤️

Sparks can stick with his yawningly vanilla pudding Ken-doll heroes because there is obviously a market for bland safe smooth love too.

^^^ The sexual excitement level in a Sparks’ novel goes from zero to pudding.