catstark

Lucy of the Broken States

Chapter One

The horse ambled its way into town, past the few wooden buildings that housed a grocery store, a scavenger store, a restaurant, and the sheriff’s office. Lucy sat atop Lance and gave him very little direction. Meridune was home and, after riding Lance for three years, the horse seemed to know when they were here. It surprised Lucy that he knew where to go, as many towns in the Broken States looked the same. She wondered if the town smelled different to Lance, but thought it might also be that she relaxed as soon as she saw the town limits sign.

Lucy could move Lance along a little faster, but it was too hot to hurry, and they were both dehydrated. It was a long ride from one town to the other out here, and the sun beat down hard during the summer. From the way the road looked, it had been a while since the last rain. They kicked up a small cloud of dust as they moseyed along. Lance neighed as he went right for the space in front of the saloon. Once he was in front of the post, his nose dipped to the trough, and she dismounted.

“Lucy!”

The voice was followed by the sound of small feet pounding on wooden steps inside the saloon. The young girl’s voice carried over the din from the poker tables and music from the standing piano. Someone was pounding away on the keys, their voice almost hitting the right notes. Dean and Meena, twins, loved to play piano and were good at it, but neither could sing. Lucy smirked at the sound as she turned toward the doors of the saloon. She waited until Gracie was outside, then opened her arms wide. The young girl, her blond braids streaming out behind her, ran at full speed, jumped off the boardwalk and into Lucy’s arms.

“You’re back!”

“Hey sugarplum. Did you miss me?”

“Lots and lots! You’ve been gone forever!”

“I told you I would be. I had a job to do.” She gave the girl an extra squeeze, then set her down. “Where’s your momma, sugarplum?”

“In bed. She’s not feeling well.”

Lucy frowned. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” She saw Irene and nodded in greeting before turning back to Gracie. “Go say hello for me, would you?”

“Ok!” The six-year-old ran off with as much enthusiasm as when she ran down the stairs.

Lucy looked toward the saloon as five other people came out. She recognized most of the faces, but frowned when she saw what each was wearing. Usually, Irene’s Escorts wore shorts or skirts with either half shirts or bras. Sometimes, when the weather was in the 100s, some went with bikini bottoms and were topless. Today, they all wore rather strange clothing.

Irene, the saloon owner and Madam, wore a green dress with a thick, twisted gold rope as a belt. The belt ended in larger than seemed necessary tassels. They looked large enough to grab on to and pull. The dress blossomed out from her waist, fell to the floor, and was embellished with thinner twisted gold rope on most of the hem.

Lucy looked down the line at the other four people who stood at the railing. Next to Irene was a tall man she hadn’t met before, in tight white pants, a frilly white shirt, and a purple velvet coat with tails that hung to the back of his knees. His short hair was shaved almost to his scalp, and there was a curious look in his dark eyes. He looked good, but he also looked completely overdressed.

Next was another person she didn’t recognize. They had a nice smile, shoulder length hair, thick black eyeliner around their blue eyes, and a five o’clock shadow. They were wearing what could either be a dress or coat that was red and yellow and green and brown, and . . . She tore her eyes away from the technicolor nightmare, and her gaze fell upon Alice’s smiling green eyes.

Lucy lifted her light brown leather hat off her head, revealing the red bandana that hid her thick dark hair. Alice wore a gold dress that hugged her body and stopped at her knees. The slim straps showed off her shoulders, which her red hair brushed. Beads hung from the hem of the dress and moved as Alice did. Lucy whistled in appreciation.

“Howdy.”

“Howdy yourself.” Alice’s voice was soft and inviting.

Lucy smiled as she twiddled with the brim of her hat and looked Alice in her clear green eyes again. “It’s been a while.”

“Need a place to lay your head?”

“I would appreciate that.”

The women stared at each other for a moment before Irene broke the silence. “For now, you’re needed upstairs, Alice. Moris wants the pleasure.”

“I’m sure he does,” Lucy said loudly enough for the Escorts to hear, but not loudly enough for her voice to carry inside.

Irene gave her a look. “You know what you can do with that attitude, Lucy.”

She put her hat back on her head and turned to Lance. “Yes, ma’am.” She gave Alice one last soft look before the woman turned and went back inside.

“The rest of you, go find a lap to sit on. Lucy’ll be around for you to talk to later.”

This was met with a chorus of grumbles along with a few voices saying, “Bye, Lucy!”

Lucy’s thick, dry lips turned up in a grin even as her attention shifted to Lance. Unbuckling his saddle bag, she let it fall to the ground as the sound of footsteps came closer. Irene appeared to her right, near Lance’s backside.

The saloon owner leaned down and picked up the saddle bag. “You don’t know what’s going on with the train, do you? Stella heard it was going to be late.”

Lucy turned toward Irene. “It’ll only be late by a couple days. A factory Under caught fire. It caused one of the vents to the Above to blow up. There was enough heat released that the area got hit with a few meteorites. The fire and Bombardment stopped the factory for a few days while the miners rerouted the vent. The Regulators confirmed the heat was dissipating correctly.”

“Do you know what the factory was making?”

Lucy paused, looked at the sky as she tried to remember, then shook her head. “Nope. I don’t think it’s something we use here. It’s something they use in the mines out west, so they had to delay the train until it was fixed.”

Irene nodded. “That’s good to hear. We were getting worried. All the rumors.”

“There’s always rumors, Irene. You don’t usually care about all that.”

Irene sighed and looked toward her saloon. “There’s been a bit of an upheaval. Grace got the Red Death.”

Lucy looked shocked. “You’re kidding.”

Irene scrutinized Lucy. “You weren’t with her last time you were here, were you?”

She shook her head. “No, but Gracie and I spent a lot of time together. Does she have it?”

“She tested negative. As soon as Grace realized she had it, she taught her daughter not to get close. It’s been hard for them both.”

Lucy nodded. “All right. But why are you so keen on the train? Are there any meds on it?”

“No, but . . .” She hesitated, then after a moment, plunged ahead. “Grace wants to talk to you. She said something about the train but wouldn’t tell me more.”

Lucy frowned.

“You can be in her room. She knows not to touch anyone.”

“Wait, she can’t work, can she?”

“No.” Irene’s expression revealed nothing. “They don’t have anywhere else to go. We’ve all been pitching in to help with her care and food. She had a little saved up.”

“Her momma won’t take her?”

Irene shook her head. “Grace hasn’t dared tell her. She’s afraid her mother will take Gracie once and for all.”

Lucy shook her head. “That woman . . .” She shook her head again, then frowned a little. “Grace will need a lot of care before she dies.”

“I know.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “What’s she got on you?”

Irene’s mouth dropped open in shock. Then her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Oh, you little . . .”

Lucy burst out laughing. “Sorry, Irene. I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re in a tear today.”

“I like being here. It’s home.”

Irene nodded. “I get that. Come on, get the rest of your stuff. I’ll prepare a bath for you.”

Lucy grinned and turned to take care of Lance.

*****

Half an hour later, Lucy soaked in a tub of hot water in Irene’s room. It was the woman’s private room, no clients allowed. The tub was porcelain, with claw feet, and weighed so much it had to be on the ground floor. Irene had gladly given up her room on the top floor to have this installed. It was big enough that with her back against the tub wall, Lucy’s feet just touched the other side. It was heaven. A lot of places had running water and bathtubs, but Lucy wasn’t as friendly with the people of other towns. She wanted one home, and Meridune was it.

Lucy grew up in an orphanage, in the Under, but when she started traveling at the age of fourteen, Meridune, Irene in particular, took her in. The Hired Hand she was following for her Apprenticeship wasn’t treating her well and was barely teaching her anything. Irene noticed, took her away from Darrell, and set her up with Cecil, who showed her the ropes of being a Hired Hand. He taught her many things, from filling out the right paperwork to learning how to shoot a gun.

A small sigh escaped her. She missed Cecil, but all roads led to death, eventually. A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts. “Go away!”

The door opened anyway. “This is my room! My saloon. You don’t tell me to go away.”

Lucy laughed at Irene’s irritation. “I knew you’d come in. No one else would have.”

Irene nodded as she came in and closed the door. “I suppose that’s true. General store had your hair products last month. I wasn’t sure when you’d be home, so I bought a couple bottles for you. Want me to braid your hair?”

Lucy’s voice was full of gratitude. “That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

Irene moved a wooden chair to behind Lucy’s head. The chair creaked as Irene sat down.

“You want the orange scented or non-scented?”

“Orange, please!”

As Irene worked her hair, she and Lucy continued to talk.

“If you want Alice’s company tonight, she’s ready for you. Middleton ran his monthly tests; all my Escorts are clean.”

Lucy’s voice sounded intrigued. “You only use ‘Escorts’ when you have a mix. Otherwise, you just say women. When I was here last, you only had women. I saw the new people out there earlier but wasn’t sure if they were Escorts or servers.”

“Yep. Women, men, and everything in between. Jeremy is homosexual, and Linus is non-binary, bisexual. They might be interested in you.”

Lucy sighed as Irene continued to work on her hair. She could take care of it herself, and usually did, but it was a treat to have someone else braid it. “Were both of them outside when I showed up?”

“Jeremy had the purple coat on, and Linus had the very colorful coat.”

Lucy frowned. “Yeah, where did you all get those clothes? That’s not usually what you wear. And your dress is nice, but it just looks off for some reason.”

Irene stopped working on Lucy’s hair as she laughed. “It’s supposed to. Scavenger came through, oh about two months ago now. They found a practically untouched theater out in the middle of the old farmlands, near the lakes. No one had found the costume department, and the clothes were in cedar chests. Most of the costumes didn’t have identifying tags on them, but we all went nuts. We probably spent more on them than we should have.”

“What’s yours from?”

“It’s from . . . It’s from a book that I can’t remember the name of. I never really liked the title, but it was set in the slave era, from Way Before. At one point the main character . . . shoot, you know how I am with books. I love ’em but can’t remember the characters in them. Anyway, the main character, it’s after the war, and she has to impress someone, but all her clothes have been taken or destroyed, so she gets her former enslaved servant to make her a dress out of drapes!”

Lucy burst out laughing. “That’s ridiculous!”

“It is pretty silly, but when I realized this was from that scene, I had to wear it!”

Lucy continued to laugh as she shook her head. “Some people think up the oddest things.”

“I wish I had enough of an imagination to create a book.” She placed her hands on Lucy’s hair again. “I’m doing four thick braids, by the way.”

“That works. Thank you. And you don’t need an imagination with the stuff that happens here!”

This time they both laughed. “I suppose that’s true.” There was a pause as she worked Lucy’s hair. “Did you want me to introduce you to anyone new?”

“Though I do like variety, I want to be with Alice right now.”

Irene tsked. “I’ve never understood your relationship with her. I know she doesn’t let you pay.”

Lucy shrugged. “I please her, she pleases me. I don’t know if it can be more than that. I like to travel; she doesn’t.”

“I suppose if it works for you both.”

“It does. When it doesn’t, we’ll talk further.” Lucy sighed again as Irene tied off a braid. “Now, other than helping me with my hair, why are you really bothering me?”

Irene snorted. “It’s my room. You’re bothering me.”

Lucy snickered. She could almost hear Irene rolling her eyes.

“I came to let you know that Grace is asleep already, but Gracie is waiting for you in the dining room. She has some pictures she drew for you.”

“I love that kid.”

“She’s a sweetie.”

They were silent for a while as Irene tied off another braid, then Lucy asked a hard question. “What’s going to happen to her?”

“Grace’s illness is progressing slowly. That means she’ll probably be around for another year. Gracie’ll be old enough to Apprentice somewhere by then.”

“She’ll be seven. That’s not old enough.” There was disdain in her voice.

“Well, not for here, but she doesn’t want to Apprentice for me. There are other professions that take them at seven. We’ll make sure she gets a good Teacher.”

“And if she wants to Apprentice somewhere that doesn’t take her ’til she’s ten or thirteen?”

“She can waitress in the saloon. She’ll be off limits to the clients.”

Lucy shook her head carefully. “She deserves to be in school until she’s ready to take an Apprenticeship.”

“Grace saved up some, but she doesn’t have that kind of money.”

When Lucy realized Irene had finished another braid, she pulled away to turn and look Irene in the eyes. “I do. I’ll give you money to make sure Gracie can go to school until she’s ready to Apprentice somewhere.”

“And if she decides to Apprentice when she’s seven?”

Lucy continued to hold Irene’s gaze. “Then you make sure she gets that money.”

Irene nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” She leaned back against the tub wall again. “You have any idea who gave Grace the Red Death?”

“She has some idea, but I don’t know. It wasn’t a Townie. We’re all clear.”

“All right. I guess I can ask her myself tomorrow.”

“Yep.”

Lucy felt Irene tie off the last braid.

“Your hair’s all set. I’m leaving the oils on the floor right here. Don’t forget to grab them before you go. You can pay me back later.”

Lucy reached up a hand to touch the four thick braids. “Thank you, again. It’s nice to have someone else do it.”

“You’re welcome.” She sighed heavily and stood from her chair. “I’m going back out for a bit. Take your time, but don’t take too long. Gracie is waiting and your dinner’s just about ready.”

“What’d you order me?”

“Steak, potatoes, and grilled prickly pear. There’s cake for dessert.”

Lucy made an appreciative noise. “You know what I like!”

“Yep. Just remember it’s out there, all right?”

“Yes ma’am!”

Irene opened the door. “It’s nice to have you home.”

“It’s nice to be home,” Lucy said with a smile in her voice.

With that, Irene left and closed the door behind her.

Stitch

I’ve shared this story on Halloween before. I have to admit, it’s one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Thank you for reading. – Cat

Stitch.

The old woman sits in her musty smelling sewing room, putting together her son’s costume for the ball. He’ll look quite dapper, she thinks as she smiles. The needle sticks a bit and she tugs gently to pull the thread through the delicate material.

Stitch.

The second floor room is filled with sunlight. No one can look in, therefore the drapes are open wide and the sun streams in uninterrupted. There are dust motes dancing about, as her son will undoubtedly dance tonight at the ball. She smiles as she thinks of him in the tuxedo, dancing with his favorite girl, as the music urges them to continue.

Stitch.

She’s almost done now. She’s been working on this for a while, almost a week. It’s nearly perfect. The final touches will have to wait until he tries it on.

“Mom? I’m home!” Thomas calls from downstairs.

Agnes doesn’t respond. Her voice no longer carries, but he knows this and will come up. The front door slams and a moment later, she hears hurried footsteps on the stairs. He comes into the sewing room, her favorite room in the house and plants a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“I can smell dinner from a mile away, mother. Thank you.”

She lifts her head and smiles to him. “Anything for you, dear.”

She indicates the costume on the large round wooden table. The table has been in the family for generations. Many costumes have been made on it. He looks down and his eyes open wide.

“Mother! It’s…”

“Not finished yet. You’ll need to try it on.”

“How did you get the height? Randy’s shorter than I am.”

The old woman carefully gets up from the table, and gently stretches the costume out to show him everything. She uses cautious movements to make sure not to rip the fragile material. She stops at the legs and traces delicate stitching on the skin. It’s obvious it’s from two different hides.

“I had to add some extra.” She looked up at him. “We need to make sure it fits. I haven’t finished stitching it all closed.”

He reached out and touched where the two skins met. It was a close match, but one was hairier than the other. “Who did you use?”

“Vagrant, but don’t worry, I washed everything before the kill. You won’t catch anything from wearing it.”

“Who helped you?” Thomas knew she was too weak to skin someone herself.

“Your brother came up from the city. He’s having trouble finding a job and needs the meat. He has five mouths to feed.”

Thomas nodded as he looked down at the face of the costume. Randy was shorter than Thomas, but height didn’t matter. Thomas was smarter, more determined, and his mother made great costumes. Thomas knew he would win Jasmine’s affection tonight, he was sure of it. The height wasn’t that much of an issue. He could say he was wearing tall shoes. Once he won Jasmine’s affections, they could laugh about the costume. It would be their first date, their first laugh. He smiled at his mom.

“I can’t thank you enough, mom.”

“Oh, nonsense. Try it on and see how it fits.”

Grinning like a schoolboy, he stripped and sat in the chair. Agnes took a small bottle of spirit gum from her sewing basket and moved it closer to his chair. She helped him put on the skin, making sure each toe went into the right place. The heel was left open, to help the skin fit. Agnes ran her finger down the stitching on the bottom of the foot.

“I had to put the stitch here.”

He smiled in pleasure. “I like when you do. I can feel it when I walk. I like the reminder.”

“Stand up and I can help you with the rest of it.”

He did as told, and she placed her hands on either side of his left leg, carefully pulling the skin up his calf. Agnes placed little dabs of spirit gum on the costume to help it stay in place. She made sure the skin fit correctly, then moved to the right leg. He carefully took the edges of the costume between his legs and adjusted his genitals. A little spirit gum made sure the costume didn’t flap open. He wished wistfully that the costume included all of Randy’s parts. Some skin was too delicate to include.

Piece by piece, Agnes moved up his body, moving her hands lovingly over the costume, making sure it didn’t snag and didn’t bunch, adding spirit gum as needed. It fit him well. She measured him every six months, even if she wasn’t making him a costume.

Once the costume was high enough on his torso, she helped him slip into one arm, then the other. As she was adjusting the left hand, he looked at the right. Randy had a birthmark on his right hand. It was large and obvious. The red wine stain was still there, and it looked like Agnes did a fine job in hiding the extra skin on the hands.

She saw him looking and smiled. “His back has the mark too. I took some of his skin from the back and added it to the hand to help it look right.”

“This is beautiful, mom.”

She smiled and continued to adjust the skin. Once everything except the head was on, she had him turn around. She used a quick stitch to finish sewing up the back of the costume. Done, she turned him around and smiled. The head went on last.

“Will I be able to breathe in this mother?”

“There’s a mouth guard, like usual. Just fit it over your teeth.” She sighed. “You always act like it’s your first time.” She muttered under her breath. She looked in his eyes. “I thinned out his lips. They should fit over yours.”

She helped him place the head over his. With the guard in place, the lips seemed to slip over his. He had to sit down to have her help make sure the head was secure over his. Once it was, she nodded.

“All right now. Just let me close the back of the head up. Let me know if it’s too snug.”

“Yes, mom.” He adjusted the hands as if they were gloves. Randy’s birthmark stood out, but it had to look right. Thomas pictured it in his mind and made sure the skin was right before the spirit gum dried. Thomas wanted to make sure Jasmine saw the birthmark. It would prove how far he was willing to go to impress her. She liked Randy, but she would see that Thomas was the better choice after tonight.

“All set.”

He stood and went to the mirror. Randy was three inches shorter than he, but Thomas still looked like he was staring at Randy through a window rather than staring at himself in a mirror. The costume was stupendous. He turned to his mother. “Mom, this…this is…I don’t know what to say. You’ve outdone yourself.”

She gave a smile that he knew meant something more was coming.

He grinned, happiness making his eyes blaze. “What? What is it? You have something else?”

“Usually, there are parts that don’t make it. This time, because I know how much you like the girl, I tried very hard to keep something intact. I had to cut it off and prepare it separately, but I think I can make this work.”

As he watched she went to the table and opened up her sewing basket. She took a handkerchief and opened it up. Agnes turned to her son and showed him the prize.

He looked down at her hands and his mouth and eyes flew open. “Mother! That is without a doubt the best present so far!” He embraced her, careful not to harm the last piece of the costume. “Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me until it’s on. Still not sure it’ll work.”

Thomas nodded, backed away and waited for Agnes to sew him up.

“I’ll need to sit for this, Thomas. You know I can’t stand for very long.”

“Yes, mother.”

He moved closer to her chair. She placed the gift on the table, threaded a good needle and sat down. Thomas stood still as she fitted the last bit of Randy between his legs. Randy had a birthmark on that part of him as well. Thomas didn’t know if Jasmine had slept with Randy before, but this would help if she had. Agnes fussed with the skin, stitching it into place, being careful not to harm Thomas. He was a good son, though. He knew not to move while his mother was putting the final pieces of a costume together.

As the sun set, and the time of the ball grew closer, Agnes stitched the last of Randy over Thomas.

Stitch.

An Evening with Bigfoot

The smell of the fire wakes me, as it usually does. The low drone of voices slowly enters my consciousness as well. I rub my hands over my eyes and sit up. The stew cooking in the fire pit makes my mouth water and I realize how hungry I am.

I look around and make eye contact with the others around the fire. As they don’t have bowls of food, I surmise that the stew isn’t done yet, or they haven’t been awake long enough to grab some.

Richard, Amy, and a few others are milling about, talking, and waking up. There are others in the clearing that are still on their bedrolls. Some have blankets over them that I recognize, some don’t.

I make eye contact with those I’ve seen here before, then stand and walk to Amy. “Been awake long?”

“Not long enough. I’m still groggy. I wish they would just tell us where to meet them.”

“But that would ruin the mystery.”

“Of this meeting?”

“Of this meeting and of them.” I nod in the direction of Bigfoot’s chair and see that they have not yet arrived.

“True.”

“Do you know if the food is ready yet?”

“No idea.”

“Fuck it.” I move to the stew pot, look inside, find the ladle, and stir it up. It bubbles and steam rises from it. “Looks ready.”

Others move toward me as I dish some stew into a bowl. I hand off the bowl and fill a couple for other people before someone else takes over the task. More people wake up. We sit around the fire, welcome the new artists, and enjoy the stew. Amy sits down on my left and smiles as she takes a big spoonful of stew. It’s nice to see her. I enjoy her company immensely, but she lives far from me. We don’t get to see each other much. I frown as I look over at her.

“Why are you here? I thought you had a series going?”

“It’s never a bad idea to get new ideas. Besides, they might have something I can slip into the series.”

“True.”

“Hey!” A deep voice calls from across the fire.

We look over at a new person, who looks annoyed. “Yes?”

“Where is he? Where’s Bigfoot? I thought that’s what we were here for.”

“They show up when they’re ready,” comes a voice from closer to Bigfoot’s chair. There are about twenty people sitting around the campfire. Fifteen look like regulars, five are new.

The annoyed person turns their head to look at Christine. “Why are you using ‘they’? Bigfoot’s a guy.”

Many of the regular artists look at each other. A few roll their eyes. An artist whose name I have forgotten, answers in his lovely baritone voice. That man could read a phonebook and I’d listen.

“Bigfoot has never told us their gender, and no one here is going to ask or look. We go with ‘they’ as that’s what you use if you don’t know a person’s gender.” Mr. Baritone, a large man of six feet, turns his bulk to Annoyed One. “Got a problem with that?”

Annoyed One shakes their head quickly and looks at their stew. They stir it then frown. “What’s in this?”

Amy leans over to me to whisper. “That’s two.”

“They’re not going to make it.”

“I’m ok with that.” Richard’s quiet voice reaches me from my right.

“Do you know them?” I ask softly.

“Yeah. I made the mistake of inviting him. I thought he was ok.”

“We’ve all made mistakes.” I reassure him. “It’s never held against us.”

It’s true. This started out as five people, decades ago. I wasn’t part of the original group. I’m too young for that. My dad invited me. We were only here together once before he passed away, but it was a lovely night. I cherish those memories.

Every few years, Bigfoot gives us the opportunity to invite new people if we can think of anyone. Sometimes they work out, sometimes they don’t. Even when they don’t, the original artist is not held accountable. We never know how a person is going to react.

Sometimes, someone invites an artist that just doesn’t fit. They ask too many of the wrong questions, they seem irritated by the entire thing, and they usually act harshly toward how Bigfoot shares their ideas. I’m waiting on Annoyed One to throw a fit when that happens. A rustling in the leaves makes most of us pay attention and we look over to the woods behind the big chair. Bigfoot emerges and even in the low light, we can see the smile mostly hidden by their fur.

“Huzzah!” We state in greeting.

<Welcome.> Their voice slips into our minds. It is calm and soothing and puts most of us at ease.

Annoyed One looks up from his stew at Bigfoot. “What was that?”

Bigfoot looks at the man. <I’m telepathic. This is how I communicate.>

“Oh, hell no! I don’t want that thing in my head!”

“That’s three,” come the solemn voices.

Bigfoot looks at a few of us regulars as we nod. <So be it.>

They wave their hand at Annoyed One who instantly falls asleep as he tries to grumble. There is a rustling from the forest near him as two more Bigfeet come out. One carries Annoyed One away into the forest, the other grabs his belongings. He’ll wake in his bed in the morning. We’ve been assured before that people like him wake thinking this was all a dream. It’s for the best; he won’t try and convince other people this happened if he thinks this was all a dream.

<Now, where was I? Ah yes, welcome. Thank you for coming.> They take their seat at their chair and look about. <I trust all of you have eaten?>

“Yes! Thank you!” Even the new people say the same thing.

Bigfoot looks around as they exude good feeling. We all reach for writing implements. Some of us have pen and paper, some have tablets, some have phones. Though there is no internet access, we can still type on our devices. Once we’re ready, Bigfoot starts.

And they keep going. This lasts many hours, but the sun does not rise until they are done. The Bigfoot community is thick with magic. Once they are done talking, Bigfoot points to the artist on their right and asks how many ideas they wrote down. I can’t see who it is, but they answer with, “Thirteen.”

Bigfoot hands them a bowl, and the artist puts in $13 cash. Bigfoot looks to the next person and the bowl is passed until all have paid their dues. One dollar an idea. It’s not much really, but they don’t need money. Some money is needed, but if they have too much, it will get them noticed. Or rather, it’ll get their human guardians noticed.

Once the ideas are paid for, Bigfoot leaves. We humans sit around the fire, have more food, and talk about the ideas. Since it’s writers, painters, sculptors, photographers, and not just writers, the ideas we pay for will not be used in the same way. A couple of us have collaborated on projects when the ideas are similar enough, but for the most part, as we are very different people, the ideas look original to the outside world.

When I first started coming here, I asked where Bigfoot got their ideas. Images flash in their head, bright and expectant, apparently. Though they have many ideas each year, they don’t like to write, or paint or do much creatively. They feel their imagination is wasted on them. Therefore, they invite humans and sell their ideas.

But as we’re not allowed to talk about this, (we do need to keep the Bigfoot community safely hidden away from inquisitive humans), this doesn’t actually happen. It’s all just a made-up story told for fun.

Review

Rock and Roll Genie

by AE McKenna

The entire time I was reading this book, I thought it was the last in the series. I misread/misunderstood the author’s posts on Twitter. That misunderstanding colored my enjoyment of the book. Don’t get me wrong. I liked the book a lot. The characters carry well from one book to the next. Their personalities hold true, as do their actions. It’s a good book.

But since I thought it was the end I read the entire novel looking for an ending, a closure. And didn’t get one. The book has a good ending, but the series does not with this book.

I wanted more.

After reading the novel I reached out to the writer and asked her if it was the end… I should have done that first. My issue, not hers. She confirmed it was not the end and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I like this book. Due to magic, one of the characters gets hypnotized and ends up not knowing who they are. Even that though, flowed well. The characters, the settings, the details in the scenery were, as always, well written.

I keep encouraging you all to read AE McKenna’s work and I hope you are. It’s a good read. You can get it here.

A Review

A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear: The Utopian Plot to Liberate an American Town (And Some Bears) by Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling

I don’t usually read non-fiction, but an article about this book sparked my interest and I decided to purchase it. I am not normally one to pick up a political book, but libertarianism piqued my interest, as I had no idea how it would work in the real world. To some degree, I still don’t.

“A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear” is about a small New Hampshire town that gets taken over by Libertarians, but that’s not the beginning of the story. Grafton, New Hampshire is home to some pretty wild things and people. The author does a very good job of telling the history of the area. He uses humor and history to show why this particular town was not a good place for libertarianism, without bashing the governmental party. Though it was obvious the writer wasn’t a fan of libertarianism, he still handled the subject matter well.

I don’t know if the story would have turned out different if the bears weren’t so used to the Doughnut Lady, but for Grafton and its Libertarians, it probably could not have been a different end.

I highly recommend this history packed, humorous novel.

Daily Prompt: motivations

I have no idea what realization came to Anthony during this scene.

From Protector of the Grey House:

Anthony nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” He looked to Vincent for a long time. Finally, Anthony asked, “What have you decided about Natalia?”

Vincent took another deep breath and let out a sigh. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out his remote. He turned off the cameras and looked to Anthony. “I need you to continue being suspicious of her.”

His face exploded in confusion. “Why?”

“I don’t want to worry about her motivations.”

Anthony frowned but slowly, realization dawned on his face. Before he could speak, Vincent raised a hand to silence him.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself. Continue to monitor her actions.”

Anthony nodded. “Are we done then?”

“Yes.”

Vincent stood, as did Anthony. They shook hands, then Anthony left the room and the house. Vincent sat back down in his chair and stared towards the window as he thought of Natalia and the past few days. He replayed all the information Anthony found out a few times before he reached for the intercom. He buzzed the security room.

Daily Prompt: jawline

From Protector of the Grey House:

“No. But I suspected.” He went to Natalia, picked her up and carried her to his throne. He sat and cradled her to him, to comfort her. All he could do was caress her and kiss her neck and jawline. He would be without her for four days. Even with Lorraine at his beck and call, he would desire Natalia’s warm touch.

“You didn’t share your thoughts?”

“Didn’t feel the need – I need you. Come with me.”

He kissed her hard and made her straddle him; her legs hung over the dragon head armrests. Her breath was taken by his kiss.

“Come with me.” He repeated, his voice thick with emotion.

She answered breathlessly. “Why?”

“I need you.” He held her in place as his arms tightened around her.

“As your protector? Or as your woman?” She caressed his cheek softly, as she tried to read his intent.

“Both.” He closed his eyes to hide what simmered there but showed off his fangs.

Daily Prompt: implication

From Protector of the Grey House:

Tonight was no different. She started breathing hard and fast as the implication of what he wanted set in. She had taken control before, many times, but this was the first time he asked for it. He wanted her to control him. It made her heart race. She could push him to his limit. She smiled a hyena smile as she realized he would be the one screaming tonight. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to the floor. She took one step then placed her foot on his chest.

“I still don’t understand why you want this Vincent, but by the time you fall asleep, you will regret giving me control.” He saw the look in her eye and understood her smile. He wondered, as she stood above him and grinned, whether he had made the right decision. Until he realized, there was no decision in his actions, only desire. In the end, he didn’t regret one single action. She did get him to scream many, many times. Somehow, he managed not to change her.

Daily Prompt :arrangement

From Protector of the Grey House:

In minutes, his people were out the door, in the cars and headed back home. The sun had started to show itself in the east. Humans drove the limos and moved dividers up as soon as they could. Vincent and Natalia were in the back of the medium sized limo and the rest of his people had found their way into the large limo. He had not planned on this arrangement, but knew his people made it happen to give their leaders some privacy. Natalia leaned against him. She sighed as battle instinct left and his lover returned. He turned his head, kissed the top of her head, and inhaled her scent.

Natalia gave a weary sigh at his touch. She leaned a bit further onto his shoulder, to relax and sleep, but felt rest might be impossible. Orlando’s sacrifice, and her inability to stop him, filled her thoughts. Had she remembered the demons’ weakness a few seconds earlier, Orlando would be alive. His death was her fault. She wanted to talk to Rebecca about it, but the look on the wolves’ faces confused her. Charlie was the only one who hadn’t acted out of character, but that had thrown her too. Why he knelt to receive the sword, she didn’t know. She felt it was in bad taste.

Daily Prompt: circled

From Protector of the Grey House:

“You think you’re too good to be a vampire?”

“Never said that.” Natalia circled with Lorraine, glad for the moment to assess her target and allow for tactics. She already knew of two things she could try, one if she were quick enough, which she wasn’t, and one she would do if she were desperate, which she was.

“So why not allow him to change you?” Lorraine continued to circle slowly.

“He will. When I’m ready.” She readied herself for her opportunity, which would present itself shortly.

“Has anyone informed you it isn’t your choice?”

Natalia frowned. “Everything in life is a choice.”