*A couple of notes:
A) Doing a promo site for “friendlies” is still on the program, but was interrupted by looking for a house and now by “moving madness.” Expect something around October/November, when I will ask people if they want to be included. Etc. We’ve actually done the site design, now it’s just time to put it up…. so two or three months. (The problem isn’t packing and unpacking. We’re good at that. It’s getitng people in to do stuff like painting and fixing.)
B) Sorry this is so late. WordPress has developed a new “cute” trick, which involves not selecting what it says it has, not giving me buttons for linking, etc. ARGH. WPDE. That’s all. – Sarah*
If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. I ALSO WISH TO REMIND OUR READERS THAT IF THEY WANT TO TIP THE BLOGGER WITHOUT SPENDING EXTRA MONEY, CLICKING TO AMAZON THROUGH ONE OF THE BOOK LINKS ON THE RIGHT, WILL GIVE US SOME AMOUNT OF MONEY FOR PURCHASES MADE IN THE NEXT 24HOURS, OR UNTIL YOU CLICK ANOTHER ASSOCIATE’S LINK. PLEASE CONSIDER CLICKING THROUGH ONE OF THOSE LINKS BEFORE SEARCHING FOR THAT SHED, BIG SCREEN TV, GAMING COMPUTER OR CONSERVATORY YOU WISH TO BUY. That helps defray my time cost of about 2 hours a day on the blog, time probably better spent on fiction. ;)*
FROM TIMOTHY SCOTT ROACH: Momma, May I Have the Moon?
“Momma, may I have the moon?”“Oh, my dear no! It would never fit in your room.”On the surface, this book is about unobtainable dreams and fanciful things, but if you look a little deeper you will see it is something else. A problem is presented and the reader is challenged to use his or her imagination to come up with a solution. This is engineering at its purest level — a level as accessible to children as it is to adults. Children naturally think outside the box, because for them there is no box. See what ideas your child can come up with to reach the moon and then draw and submit them for a chance to be in future editions of the book.
FROM C. J. CARELLA: Guilds at War: The LitRPG Saga Continues
A Battle Between Immortals
Hawke Lightseeker leads an expedition to the city of Akila, planning to confront Kaiser Wrecker and his guild. But the Nerf Herders are only one of many threats lurking in the Imperial city. Hawke and his friends soon become embroiled in a conflict with ancient Undead and deceitful Sidhe. And Kaiser has more than a few surprises for his hated enemy.
Guild at Wars continues the LitRPG series that began with Twilight Templar. Character progression, new levels, skills, magic systems and Mana cultivation all play a role in the story, along with drama, action and adventure.
FROM S. T. GAFNEY: Facets
Journey through the crystalline surfaces of short stories, that for the briefest of moments , reflect the light and shadows of what it means to be human. Just beyond the brightness of what we know, lurks the shadows of what we don’t yet know or understand. We pretend we stand on solid ground, turn on the lights, and perform rituals to ignore the horrors that surround us. When in truth, the greatest darkness lies within us all. But also, the greatest brightness. Like crystals we hold both. Turn us one way, and we know just how to kill. Turn us another way, and we know just how to love, a love that transcends both time and death.
What facet will speak to you? Rattle your brain, eat away at your heart? Haunt your dreams, disturb your peace? Make you smile, even laugh? Make you promise to live better? Comfort you just a little, teach you how to build a fire to burn away the night?
Come, take a break and read a story. Short stories for those short spaces of time when a novel is too much. Pull away the curtain, take a peek, and see what is reflected in the facets of your own mind.
Facets is a collection of 24 short stories of various lengths for a total of about 69,000 words. Also included is an author’s note at the end with comments on writing and on some of the short stories. They are organized by length, from shortest to longest. These stories do not as a whole fit any particular genre. However, I suppose one could say that most every story has a “strange” aspect about it. I consider myself a storyteller and I find labels only end up being argued about anyway. So, I’ve just decided to use the word “strange” and leave it at that. Some of these stories (not necessarily the same ones) might be enjoyed by those who look for science fiction, fantasy, and/or horror. And I think some don’t even fit into any of those genres. Like I said, I just tell stories. If you end up putting a label to any of them, fine. Just don’t tell me about it. It will most likely only confuse me. And I don’t need any help with that. I’ve successfully confused myself for years already and I don’t see that changing any time soon.
FROM C. CHANCY: Gateway to Fiction.
Do the Research, Keep the Shiny! A writer’s guide. Want a good story? Choking on yet another sparkly cinematic production that has all the flash and explosions yet no real people in it? If you want stories done right, sometimes you’ve just got to do it yourself. But how? Roll up your sleeves, we’re going to cover it all. No preaching; no “but thou must follow steps X, Y, Z”. Just, here’s some ideas, and some examples, of how it can work. From getting over that first hump of pen to page, through getting ideas and characters from point A to point B, all the way to how to keep breathing when the whole world’s crumbling in. There are links. There are tropes. And there’s a sober explanation of why fanfic has always mattered. In your mind’s eye there’s a world no one else has seen. Here’s some tools. Worldbuild away!
FROM TIFFANY GRAY: Hazardous Magic: A Terran-Subterran Story
Ace “Demon” Anshelm was a Terran; a born “Top-Sider”. The government required you to differentiate on your paperwork now, since the all the Subterran races, including giants, sidhe, dwarves, humans and other magical creatures of legend, had emerged from Antarctica. Demon would rather be piloting than almost anything else, but after getting out of the Air Force and trying to go solo, his luck ran out and he lost everything. He was about to give up on independent piloting when a recruiter approached him from Haz-Mag Inc. Fly hazardous magical cargo from place to place and make lots of money was the sales pitch.
After two years of flying for Haz-Mag Inc he was still impressed with the company and their security, but he was especially impressed with the planes; all new and all top of the line. Even so, with nagas, gremlins and pixie-lizards on this flight he had to ask himself, if it was worth it. Afterall, how bad could flying hazardous magical cargo be?
FROM BERNADETTE DURBIN: Minstrel
When a heroine in peril disguises herself as a minstrel to escape her treacherous, wrathful brother, she finds herself on a series of unorthodox adventures that raise from lowly minstrel to king’s advisor.
FROM J. ANNE CAMPANILE: Pride and Poor Judgment.
Her pride, his prejudice, and astoundingly poor judgment.
Winter Darcy has her priorities straight: protect her best friend, reconnect with her brother, and survive senior year. Boyfriends? Crushes? Not in the plan. But life hasn’t cared about her plans in the past, so really, she should have expected the Bennet brothers.
John is a threat to her best friend, Charlie’s, recovery. Elliot is Darcy’s personal stumbling block. And then there’s Darcy’s brother, who hasn’t spoken to her in months. Her life is scattered, but her heart is in the right place.
Fresh, funny, and achingly relatable, this gender-flipped Pride and Prejudice follows Darcy’s socially awkward exploits in love, friendship, heartache, and learning that she’s not always right.
FROM GEOFF WIDDERS: KURT LANGER: NEMESIS OF TERROR.
The Islamic terror cell that was annihilated by the 74 year old Vietnam veteran had a target in its sights compared to which the World Trade Center paled into insignificance. Authorities have given the figure of 50,000, it might have been more.
This book seeks to set the record straight regarding Kurt Langer. He had fought terror in all its forms, from the jungles and deltas of Vietnam, to the Anatolian plains of Turkey, to the NW Pacific coast of the USA. Terror had always come off worse.
His wartime experience had left him disturbed. He was a casualty, one of the walking wounded. He added a terrible stain to his life with the planned killing of an off-duty policeman.
The Islamic jihadis, kayaking stealthily for weeks towards their target could never have imagined that the old warrior, ‘released back into the community’; would destroy them.
His interception of the terror cell was his redemption. The world would call him a savior.
FROM R. D. MEYER: Schism.
A single spark. That’s all it takes to ignite an explosion if the conditions are right.
Today in America, conditions are right for an inferno to engulf our nation. We no longer discuss; we screech. We no longer tolerate; we cancel. We no longer agree to disagree; we end relationships that have lasted years. In short, American society is on the edge of an explosion.
Schism is about all of our anger, all of our political rage, coming to the surface in a Second American Civil War. However, this one doesn’t divide us by northern states and southern states, but rather by liberals and conservatives, urban and rural, reds and blues. Spurred on by blog posts, news reports, and protests each side seems to participate in more out of opposition to the other side than any real principle, conditions for the spark grow more and more precarious, priming the pump of hate.
Beginning as what seems like a black and white case of terrorism, events morph into a political struggle over who steers the reins of power. One man seeking justice for his family spins out of control and drags our nation into the abyss while the loyalties of friends, neighbors, and even families are tested against the partisan rancor that pervades society.
Once events explode into a self-sustaining fire, cities burn. Journalists from varying outlets are executed for everyone to see. Power plants are shuttered to cut off each side from the energy our country has become so dependent on. And the whole time, as America is paralyzed in a struggle with itself, an ambitious military officer watches from across the ocean…
FROM ALMA T. C. BOYKIN: Intensely Familiar.
Home is the Hunter . . .
Something moves in the darkness, hunting the hunters. An ambush leaves Lelia Chan weak and troubled. Her husband André returns from an extended deployment with problems of his own, some old, some new. Both shadow mages and their Familiars need rest. Their enemy, however, does not.
Magic solves magical problems: that’s the rule among Riverton’s magic users. But what if it doesn’t? Especially against a foe who is Intensely Familiar.
FROM NATHAN BISSONETTE: Kobold and Centaur.
Worst Prom date ever. Steph only went with Sam because nobody else asked her. Besides, it’s just for Prom, right? It’s not forever. But that was before the little man with pointed ears handed them enchanted scrolls that sent them out of this world. Now she’s stuck far from home in a different body. Can Steph and Sam make it home in time to save the Earth without getting killed? Or killing each other? And what about the Prince?
FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: Starlight Running
Eight lives depend on Kyle’s desperate trek across the Moon to get help. But someone — or something — intends for him to fail. Can he defeat it in time?
Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.
So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.
We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.
If you have questions, feel free to ask.
Your writing prompt this week is: Land
26 thoughts on “Book Promo And Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike”
Two rocket Bob struck a pose, flag in hand.
“I claim this land in the name of…”
Bolts, his faithful robot sidekick interrupted, “Is sand land?”
“Of course, same as dirt is earth.”
“I’ll rephrase that,” Bolts rattled, “Is an interstellar cloud of sand with no place to stand land?”
Julie shouted as she came from the cabin “Fred, we’re thousand of miles from any island”.
“What the hey? What’s an island doing out here?”
“Just sitting around”.
A demonic shriek pierced the air as the Hellhound slid apart neatly, severed by a cross-shaped slash of dark energies. Maximilian wondered how many of these things he had killed this hour alone as he cleaned and sheathed his sword. The cursed lands of the Kalitka continent weren’t easy to travel at the best of times and his current situation was far from that. If the demons didn’t get him members of the Order convinced that he was a mass murderer would. What could he do, though? He wasn’t going to take the blame and lose his head for someone else’s terrorist attack so all he could do is fight his way out of their sphere of influence.
The disgraced exorcist suddenly stopped, hearing footsteps crashing through the brush. Had they caught up to him already? Noting a large shadow cast by a rock and another by a tree he stepped into the former and warped to the latter, hiding behind it as he made note of other shadows in the area in case he needed them. He’d have preferred to set a trap for them but he didn’t have time for that. He was as prepared to fight or flee as he was going to get.
“Get your ass out here wherever you are, Max!” a woman’s voice rang out, the aristocratic accent belying her vulgar words. Maximilian simply sighed and shook his head. His pursuers wasn’t hostile but she was absolutely a pain to deal with.
“Chryssa Bellbrook,” the swordsman said in greeting, a displeased look on his face as he emerged from his hiding place. “I told you not to follow me.”
“It’s Crissy Rouge, dammit!” the sorceress snapped, her purple eyes crackling with angry light. “Do you really think I’d let those assholes get away with doing this to you?!”
“What happens to me shouldn’t be your concern.” the fugitive stated, his irritation growing.
“Like Hell!” Crissy growled, the tattoo on her left shoulder glowing now. “First their dicking around gets my mom killed and now they’re going to sacrifice one of their good ones over obvious bullshit?! Helping you get away is the best payback I could ever give those useless shits!”
“You’re coming no matter what I say, aren’t you?” Maximilian sighed, a look of resignation crossing his features briefly.
“Damn right, so let’s haul ass out of here!” Crissy grinned, the magical light in her eyes and ink fading. “So, where are you headed?”
“Azuma,” the swordsman replied, motioning for her to follow him as he glanced around for more demons. “Between Don Esteban and Kuroda-san’s connections I should be able to live comfortably there and improve my skills with a sword as well.”
“Ugh, sounds boring,” the sorceress grumbled before her mischievous grin returned. “I can blast things out of your way on the way there, though! And I know just the right port to take off from!”
“Lead the way, then.” Maximilian said, allowing his troublesome friend to take point.
I think you introduced these characters before. Is there any published stories about them?
I’ve been using them a lot, yeah. 🙂 It’s the most recent setting I came up with, steam/dieselpunk in the vein of the Shadow Hearts games from the PS2 era. I haven’t published anything with them, though, but I do want to get the rust off of them before I try anything serious. I was hoping to do this as a storyline for a JRPG-style game, actually, but I don’t see that ever happening so writing it is for now at least. I also didn’t realize how much I had Devil May Cry on the brain with this, too, until I started getting back into the lore and realized that I borrowed a lot from Vergil for Max without even realizing it. In an RPG version of this I called the move he killed the Hellhound with Dimension Blade and as it turns out the original Japanese name for Vergil’s signature Judgement Cut, Jigenzan, translates as Dimension Cut.
>> “I also didn’t realize how much I had Devil May Cry on the brain with this, too, until I started getting back into the lore and realized that I borrowed a lot from Vergil for Max without even realizing it”
Did you give him the phantom swords? I’ve only played DMC 3, but I always thought those were cooler than anything else either Virgil or Dante had. Even Nevan, as bizarre as that thing was.
Nope, I mostly went off his iaido-heavy, darkness-themed fighting style with the Yamato, though I did incorporate other things into it. I did incorporate Judgement Cut End from DMC4SE into his Limit Break-style move, though! I gave another character the ability to conjure up elemental weapons to use either as straight-up magic spells or fight with, and he’s actually one of the greatest threats Max faces. I can definitely see Max wearing a coat like Vergil’s newest one, too, and they do have similar cool, composed personalities as well even though that’s as far as that goes. I had pre-Nibelheim Sephiroth in mind for Max’s personality at first but later on he ended up taking on some of Auron’s qualities as well. Yeah, I’m a huge nerd for this stuff. >_>
“If one might ask, Reverend,” said the agent, “what’s an old Negro spokesman like yourself doing pricing cotton land?”
“Bearing witness,” Dr. Gannes replied. “A landless people is halfway to slavery – and we mustn’t have *that* again.”
The agent nodded thoughtfully. “Reckon that’s fair enough,” he said. “How’s Plevna sound?”
“Land.” Beth’s sister pointed to the chair. Beth landed. “OK, Beth, first, why are you dressed like vampire bait?”
Beth glanced down at the open collar of her blouse, and her “no way she can run in that, is there?” skirt. “Because that’s how I catch vampires.” She grinned up at her big sis. “It turns out, some of the smarter ones started reading paranormal romances to get ideas. So . . .”
Our August book is The Victorian Internet.
“Now, today we review the elements.”
They all sat dutifully enough, without so much impish looks on their faces.
“What are the elements?” said Isabella.
“Misnamed,” said Delia. “They thought they were the stuff that things are made of. They are really the way things are put together.”
Isabella looked at her.
“They are called fire, air, water, and earth,” said Julian, coolly. “Or, more properly, fire, gas, liquid, and solid.”
“Everything that is land is earth?” Her gaze settled on Ava.
“And much that isn’t!” said Ava, brightly. “Wood is earth, and ash is earth, and bone is earth.”
A flock of them surged up as the carriage went under, and their cries were harsh and shrill. Karlus tried to keep his attention on the road. This land was not a far-distant place of exile. People traveled from the city to the library and back within a single day.
“That will not do,” said Celestine. “You must get the lay of the land, or we can not discuss what you need, and what you can do. Even if you were told many things outside, you must see here.”
“I heard nothing,” said Angela.
“Good,” said Tristan. “Less to unlearn.”
I didn’t even know what this land was, let alone whether I should trust the people I had found. I eyed them both warily.
“If I am that useless, I can leave. And cease to take up your no doubt valuable time. I can look for other ways to learn.”
“Jake, we’re in orbit around a planet, not sailing over a horizon…what are you doing?” Serena asked, laughing.
“Just trying to create some atmosphere…get it?” Jake grinned at her.
Serena rolled her eyes. “Right. Atmosphere…space…yeah, I get it.”
Jake’s grin widened. “Well, we are over land,” he said, pointing down through the viewing panel at the land mass visible on the planet below.
“I can’t argue with that,” Serena laughed. “And, we will be exploring previously unknown territory after sailing through space…err, across oceans of space, I guess.”
“See? You get it! And, that is just one reason why I love you!” Jake grabbed her hands and tried to twirl her around in the cramped corridor.
“Jake! Stop! I’m going to hit a bulkhead!” But Serena couldn’t stop laughing. She was just as excited as her seafaring, or rather spacefaring, husband. They were going to lead the team that was exploring the planet.
Tangent, maybe. Since a big theme lately has been fighting the black dog there was a comic strip story back in June I only found today, but for the first time in a while I think maybe it’ll be all right:
Find that in the account’s timeline and scroll up to read it.
I’ve been following this…I’m very excited!
I stopped checking Bloom County a while ago as it seemed he had stopped making new ones. Guess it’s time to take another look.
The loud bang from somewhere behind and to his left caused Ben to utter a string of curse words that would have had his mother threatening to wash his mouth out with soap and his drill sergeant blushing. Then again, neither of them were here to say anything and neither of them had to figure out how to land this piece of junk with only one remaining engine. “Hold together, you old bird…” he muttered to himself.
This post is something different. It’s not fiction. Even so, I think I can make it entertaining, and maybe just a little bit educational.
Some years ago I installed a new electrical panel in my house. Since then, I’ve been incrementally upgrading the wiring and fixtures, usually as part of remodeling a room. When you own the house, and the land, such projects are practical and much, MUCH cheaper than paying an electrician.
I mounted the new panel in an exterior wall cavity between the 2×4’s. Over the years, I have reached the conclusion that it was a mistake. All cables have to enter at the top of the panel, and the inside became a mad rat’s nest.
I also routed about a dozen cables under a rafter. At the time, it was above a drop ceiling and there just wasn’t any other practical routing path. I’m removing the drop ceiling to put up a regular one, so cables under a rafter are a no-no. I drilled three 1” holes to pass the cables through, and spent about a week pulling a cable or two a day out of the electrical panel, re-routed them through the holes, and left them lying loose up in the attic.
As the week wore on, more and more of my house was left without electricity. This morning, only my bedroom, the refrigerator, one computer and the answering machine had power. Today was the day for that electrical panel to get OUT of the wall cavity forever.
I had lunch, shut down the computer, switched off the battery backups and turned off the mains breaker. You can call me chicken, but monkeying with a hot panel scares me. I’ve done it before, probably will again, but it’s always scary.
I pulled the last two cables out of the panel and re-routed them. Job One Done! Time to remove the mounting screws and pull the panel out. This left it dangling from the mains but that’s OK, they’re #000 copper cables in a 2” flex conduit.
Stuffed a batt of fiberglass insulation into the wall cavity. I had a piece of 3/4” plywood already cut, treated with wood preservative, and painted. Slid that behind the panel and nailed it in place. Pushed the panel up about 6” higher than it used to be and screwed it to the plywood, making sure it was level.
Then spent the next 4 hours putting all the cables back in and connecting them up, with the circuits organized more logically than they were. The mad rat’s nest is back, maybe a little neater than before.
Oh, the panel is in the old laundry room, which used to be part of the garage and is partially open to the attic. It will eventually be remodeled into a properly finished computer room and office, but it was beastly hot in there today. Hotter still fetching all those cables down from the attic. Guzzled about a gallon of water and sweated it right back out. Got the job done, anyway.
Time to restore power. There’s a lot of wrong ways to do that. Here’s the right way:
Turn all the breakers OFF. Get an ohmmeter and verify that there are no shorts on the mains, between phases or between each phase and neutral. No need to check for shorts to ground separately, because neutral and ground are tied together inside the panel. That is the ONLY place neutral and ground should be connected.
Switch the mains breaker ON. If you did everything right, the panel should NOT emit sparks, smoke and/or fire. This is important.
Switch on one breaker. Go to that room and check that power is on. You DID write down which breaker is connected to which circuit, right?
Continue to switch on one breaker at a time, checking each circuit as you go.
That’s it! Power is back on, the computer is running, the cats are in and fed, and life is pretty much back to what passes for normal around here. If you don’t count the political insanity.
No step on snek. This land is ours.
I told my wife I wanted to see the lay of the land, and she slapped me! Woman doesn’t know geography.
Hey Sarah, something’s wrong with the post previous to this one (Eine kleines Samstagmorgen musik). It doesn’t want to load in anything under a fortnight.
Drew Reinholt had intended to walk into the crawler under his own power. However, Slayton Field Safety had other ideas. Over his protests, they’d insisted that both he and his pilot be strapped to backboards for the trip up to Grissom City Medical Center.
Only after the flight surgeon had checked them out and declared them fit were they finally allowed to stand up and walk to the debriefing room. “Sorry, guys, I know you consider any landing you can walk away from a good landing, but after what you guys went through getting that bird down, we’d rather be on the cautious side than have to send you up to Gagarinsk for regen because of a hidden spinal injury.”
Bethany closed her eyes, embracing the slim mast at her back a little more firmly as she did, and reached out with all her other senses.
Heard the rush and crash of the slow waves around her and against the ship. The boom of the wind in the sails and the crying of the seagulls, too. Felt the still-warm touch of the sun, barely a few degrees above the doubly-close and watery horizon, mere hours now from setting, having taken earth-days to fall that far from where it’d been on her arrival. In this most amazing of all the so many timelines of the Skein she’d travelled since she learned magick was real and hers. Smelled and tasted the brine in the air, so like the other seas she’d known; but this Mare Nostrum of connected “seas” was very different too…
“For my ship is so small, and Thy sea is so vast…”
She opened her eyes, looking up past the slow, regular motion of the ship to nearly the top of the sky, where (this version of) the planet of her birth hung. Suspended there by the laws of motion, and ultimately the tides too; but with such a difference from what she’d known also. Even though the Pockmark was not visible, now, in what would’ve been the Gulf Coast of North America if its history had ever got that far — the fraction-of-a-million years old impact scar had changed its world so uniquely and drastically, in what had so very nearly been a Final Extinction Level Event. (She couldn’t help looking for it, even after days of being here, like a girl who’d just lost a baby tooth found her tongue going to the empty hole, over and over…) But she could see, far up there swaying as the ship pitched and rolled, the land mass of Asia — the only land in sight anywhere, did she look near or far.
And she shivered, again, but this time in wonder. As best as anyone had been able to figure, Someone or Someones Else had seen the same sight and felt something similar enough to do — more than all the mages of all the worlds of the Skein, and all the technologists of her world and the few others that bent that way in place of magick, would’ve ever been able to do to heal the harm.
Not remotely as uncaring as the aliens of the Strugatsky brothers’ “Roadside Picnic” — far more comprehensible and (it must seem) compassionate than all the eldritch Elder Ones of Lovecraft’s history of horror — but still enigmatic, and for all one could tell quite possibly more able than either one, or both.
There were, most inexplicably, trilobites in the seas of this Earth, now. And, though it was rather unclear from where it had been drawn (water from Earth, air from Venus..?) — water and air and life here, on this otherwise very typical and commonplace Moon. In an odd enough structure to be stable for quite a long stretch of geological time.
Bethany Radetzky cleared her throat and spoke softly but aloud. “Here I am, by the grace of magic and the most wildly-blessed luck ever. Sailing the shallow fair blue Sea of Tranquillity — among worlds without end, Amen, Amen.” And it was almost an overt prayer of wonder to her as she said it. Who could ever have thought it possible, ten years ago, to me? That anyone like me could see and do so much, in all this far wide world?
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” she heard in French from close up. And answered her old friend Anjou de Picardy (from a very different timeline) the same way, “Yes, magnificent it surely is. And not desolate at all.” Also summoned here, like her, under the closest thing to an NDA the Grand Academy of Magick had going.
Soon, they’d been told, they’d find out exactly why. But for now, having rested from the Major Inter-Line Gate spell (with even more draining displacement in space) they’d helped to work, they could still… see the sights together.
It would take, after all, a whole hour for the sun simply to set, here.
(Based on earlier vignettes, some posted, some not done fast enough. And ultimately, much inspired by Leigh Kimmel’s “Beach House on the Moon” too.)
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