What was July but sun and heat and more sun? Terina wiped the droplets from her forehead and wished for the crisp days of October. Grunting slightly, she pushed the wooden cart forward. In the noon warmth, she wanted to simply lie down in the shade beneath it and nap the afternoon away. But she was due in Ladenville before dark, to set up for the next day’s festival.
It had been more than two years since she’d attended the festival, and she didn’t recognize the harsh landscape that surrounded her: the dry grasses, the trees whose leaves were mostly wrinkled and yellow, the dusty creek beds. It should have been a verdant season, but a drought had sucked the life out of the countryside.
Her own hamlet, miles back, was a lucky oasis still green and lush.
Had the townsfolk of Ladenville not spoken to their resident merlin? Bade him summon the rain beasts?
A man carrying a burlap bag over his shoulder approached Terina on the path. Sweat soaked his shirt. He nodded at her and she nodded back.
“Sir, can you spare the time for a short question?” Terina wiped her forehead again.
“Aye,” the man said, but stood away from her, cautious.
“I am several years away from this land, headed to the Brine Festival. Why such dryness?”
The man frowned and spat at the ground. “Our merlin passed on more than a year gone now, and no one left has the knowledge to call the rain.”
Eyes wide, Terina tried to imagine such a scenario. “The Fates are often fickle. My sympathies, sir.”
He nodded again and went on down the path.
Rummaging in her pack, Terina pulled out a flask of water and sipped; the aridness made her thirsty. She contemplated her next steps: Maybe the Brine Festival was a bad idea. Drought made people irritable and less likely to spend their coins. When she slipped the flask back into her pack, her hand brushed the bottle of elixir.
Uncorking it, she sniffed the sweetness of ripe berries. She knew only a brief sketch of the rain ritual—not being a full-fledged merlin, but it was worth a try. She held the bottle above her head, letting the desiccating breeze lift the scent upward.
“Iniye ab-wo neq,” she recited. There was another step that she tried to remember. A tuft of sedge? A handful of creek mud? The small rill that crossed her path contained neither. Every creek stone she turned over yielded only hard, cracked earth.
Digging again in her pack, Terina located the peach she’d squirreled away for a snack. Soft with ripeness, the fruit might work. Holding the peach aloft as she had the elixir, she squeezed it until the juices ran down her arms and dripped to the ground.
She repeated the incantation and waited several moments.
In the deep blue of the sky, the smallest of cumulous clouds popped up.
She waited again, this time for the cloud to spawn more clouds. But the cumulous remained solitary.
With a sigh, Terina cleaned the juice from her arms and closed her pack. Pushing hard against the cart, she persuaded it to roll onward, to the north and east, toward Ladenville.
Behind her, as her one step became ten, and then stretched to a quarter mile, the water vapor in the blazing heavens condensed. Thunderheads mushroomed and spread, cutting off the sun. And the rain beasts rumbled long and low.
Janet Elizabeth Lynn was born in Queens and raised in Long Island, New York. She is the author of murder mysteries, cozy mysteries and with her husband Will Zeilinger, 1950s hard-boiled detective mysteries.
Will Zeilinger has lived and traveled the world and has been writing for over ten years. His novels range from mystery to romantic comedy and those 1950s hard-boiled detective mysteries with his wife Janet.
Together Janet and Will write the Skylar Drake Mystery Series. These hard-boiled tales are based in old Hollywood in 1955. They have an E-book How it Began: The Skylar Drake Mysteries available from Smashwords.
Their world travels have sparked several ideas for murder and crime stories. In their next adventure, they will team up using the penname E.J. Williams for a new mystery series set in the 1960s. Their first novel in the International Crime Files, Stone Pub is in the works.
In addition to writing novels, Janet and Will have a YouTube Channel, Chatting with Authors featuring informal Zoom interviews with authors of various genres. We encourage readers to check out all their videos.
This creative couple lives in Southern California . . . and yes, they are still married, and they even blog together at The Married Authors.
soft murmurs in the dark
don’t enlighten me
they leave me fumbling
for something real to grasp
let whispers fade
with the light from stars
be silent until
day breaks and I can
see in your eyes
the words that spill
from your heart
(c) Neetu Malik
I woke at two in the morning from a nightmare in which I was being hunted by an assassin. In the dream, desperate to get away, I hid on the third floor of an abandoned building. I remember looking out the dirty windows and seeing the assassin below in the parking lot looking up at me. He was tracking my cell phone.
I removed the sim card and, just for good measure, smashed the phone.
Two days later, he almost caught me hiding in a bakery. The owner, an old friend, came rushing into kitchen whispering, “The man you described just walked through the front door.” I ducked out the back and hid on the fire escape. As he left, I saw him glance up at the street cams.
Damn.
I hitchhiked into the Indiana countryside. I figured I was safe among the endless fields of ten foot tall cornstalks. I was wrong. As I turned and ran, he shouted after me, “You’ll never get away, I’ve tapped into the satellites.”
That’s when I woke up. Everything was familiar: my bedroom, my sweetie softly breathing beside me. I wasn’t afraid; I was curious. How would I evade an assassin? I turned to that great fountain of wisdom, the TV. As my husband slept, I searched Netflix and Amazon Prime for a movie that would show me how to escape.
Click. Click. Click.
I clicked almost as many times as Indiana has ears of corn. Then I discovered a Bruce Lee movie! Yes! Surely, Bruce would know how to evade an assassin.
Guess what? Bruce Lee never evades. He never hides. He confronts his enemies. He turns to face them, looks them straight in the eye, and kicks butt.
That’s when I knew who the assassin was. My assassin was a family problem. Yes, I wanted to hide. And yes, I definitely wanted to smash my cell phone, but I couldn’t get away. I had to become Bruce Lee. I had to face my problem head on. I needed to look it in the eye—and kick butt.
So, why did I tell you this?
I recently read a fascinating book called Dreams: God’s Forgotten Language by John A. Sanford. I believe dreams can add depth and, strangely, genuineness to a story. But there’s a catch, and it’s a big one. You’ve got to get it right. Dreams follow certain patterns—unobvious patterns—that we all instinctively recognize. So, if you want to put a dream sequence in your story, read an authoritative book about dreams and common reoccurring images in dreams, first. Otherwise, the dream won’t read as “real.” Rather it will seem contrived, a way too convenient plot device, and pop the reader right out of the story.
BTW, I did actually dream about being hunted by an assassin, and I do think my subconscious was telling me to stop running away from my problems. I’m currently working on becoming Bruce Lee, but he’s a difficult act to follow.
Happy Writing!
When I got married 33 years ago, I knew there would be a lot of combining things in our lives. John taught me to enjoy comic books and Dungeons & Dragons. I helped him discover a couple chick flicks he could watch multiple times.
What I didn’t expect to share was my identity as a writer.
At first, it was really difficult for me, a middle child, to share a place I’d carved out for me. (Middle children out there, I bet you understand.) But over time I not only got used to the fact that my animator husband had started writing middle grade superhero stories, I decided to help him get them published.
Insert long story here about sending the book out to agents. (Many of you know this story.) So John decided he’d follow me and self-publish.
And since I’m a book coach and help people not only finish their books, but self-publish their books…yup, I had another client! (This one pays with kisses and backrubs and…ah-hem…moving on!) So as we insert another long story here, I’m now officially a publisher since I publish two authors. Whoa!
Let me know if you’d like to know how that’s working and I’ll make a point of writing it all down and posting it here. Meanwhile, I’m doing the publisher thing and promoting a book! 😀
Life as a Teenage Superhero is free through the end of today, Saturday, July 22, 2023, on all Amazon stores that sell ebooks. (I never thought I’d have to add those last three words, but the new Amazon store in Sweden doesn’t sell ebooks yet!) If you enjoyed the Harry Potter books, you might love Life as a Teenage Superhero. And if you have kids or grandkids from about 8 years old and up, they may love it too! (Also available in Kindle Unlimited for the next 90 days.)
We’ve got John’s second book in the 11-book series, Get a Half-Life, up on pre-order on Amazon with new books in the series coming out every 2-4 months. One of the new things I’ll be doing this year is creating a second print edition that is specifically for dyslexic readers! It’s a busy and exciting time to be a writer — and a publisher!
A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
Stories that will sweep you away . . .
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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