I've been writing since I was just little. In fact, my very first acknowledgement as a writer was in 2nd Grade, Age 7. I won a grade-level contest and my short story was put on display at the Cypress City Hall. The name of the story was 'How To Get A Gorilla To Love You'. I know right?!
Originally I thought I'd be published as a poet. I wrote poetry with a passion. In 6th Grade I wrote a children's book entitled: 'Kathy And The Little People'. One of the teachers read it and called me into her class one day. She told me I really should complete it and pursue the publication of the book. I never did either, but about ten years later a book very similar to mine hit the stores. I always wondered... what if? :))
Doesn't matter really. I've learned along the way that there are really no new ideas; they're all regurgitations of something already circulating.
In 1988 I wrote my first non-fiction to be published in 89. AN ACT OF WOMAN POWER.
I was in awe. It was a magical experience and left me feeling pretty good. Books poured out of me after that...
THE GAIA TRADITION
SISTER MOON LODGE
FAERY WICCA, BOOK I
FAERY WICCA, BOOK II
THE FAERY WICCA TAROT
and later
Ok, that brings us up to 95 or 96. After that a LOT of scuttlebutt happened. Jealousy, envy, paranoia aimed at me by another author (name shall go unmentioned) and he rallied his readership and some of a broader wiccan community against me... really it was all quite childish. These people had a war without me, it was that bad. I was a new mom at the time, and all my attention was given to raising my child. I don't deny I made a mistake in one of my books, and that was to acknowledge that author, but I in NO WAY was found guilty by 4 attorneys (his included) on the accusations he made against me and had his people post all over the internet and anywhere anyone would give them their eyes or ears. *sighs* But it was enough to make me stand back and take a cold hard look at a community in which I'd thought was family. I threw in the towel, turned my back on ALL of them, including my so-called publisher, and walked away in to my REAL life.
Happier. More peaceful. Surrounded by reality and people who really did care and were in relationships with me, not using me because of my name or because I was supposedly something or because they'd put me up on a stupid pedestal. (Man have I heard some crazy ass things said about me that would make a strong man cry. lol ... cliche, I know, but truthful.)
People are cruel. We like to believe the ones who claim to be spiritual and peaceful aren't, but I learned they are the real savages. They are the wolves in sheep's clothing. They are the ones we are best to "Run Forest RUN!" away from as fast as we can. Ok, enough said.
Well actually, there is one last thing I want to say FOR THE RECORD. So read up and pay attention, cuz this may actually indirectly (or directly) apply to you and the role you might have taken during that tumultuous time.
The thing that BLEW MY MIND, and actually still does even today, is how many people CHOSE, yep CHOSE to believe the BS, the slanderous accusations, the attempted and perhaps successful defamation made against my character. All the folks I thought -- read this again... I THOUGHT... were friends, chose to believe and climb on the bandwagon!
Only one person came to me to ask me what had happened, to hear my experience.
You want me to pass that by you again? Thought so.
Only ONE... yes 1... humanbeing knocked at my door and said, "hey Kisma, you don't know me, but I've heard a lot of things said about you, bad things said about you, and well, I figured no one seems to have talked to you about this and so I figured maybe someone should. Would you give me an interview?"
I don't really remember what she said, but it was something along those lines.
Anyway, lost all my royalties.
Lost my publishing contracts.
Books went out of print.
Lost my community.
Lost my "friends."
Lost my professional life as I knew it then.
Went bankrupt.
Got terribly sick -- who wouldn't?! I mean these people were emailing me curses and mailing me envelopes using breast cancer stamps for curses! OMG they were wicked witches. Yeah, witches. Witches who had accused me of being a witch and performing a "love" spell. lol Hey, I'd much rather perform a love spell than intentionally curse someone with breast cancer like they did... hmmm, but hey, that's just me... most of them are dead now anyway, so WHAT does it matter anyway?
Ok, the item FOR THE RECORD is simply only 1 person bothered to learn the truth. Everything I told her she could 100% validate by contacting my attorney, my publisher, his attorney. Anyway, pretty sad isn't it....
And no, this hasn't gone away, in fact, just late last year I had to talk to someone about it who (I truly believe) was one of the one's who CHOSE to believe the lies and treated me like I was dirt. Oh well.... I forgave silently, and all these years I still put forth the energy of friendship toward them.
You know I did stop publishing, for about 8 years. And then, one day, I was sitting at a lunch with my lovely mentor, the late, Olivia Robertson. We were in Long Beach at an event. And we found a corner to settle into, and there she began to poke me about publishing. She told me I couldn't let those "idiots win." She said "you're writing is too important to go unpublished."
That's when she said, "self publish like me, why, Kisma, all the greats self-published." lol NOT saying I'm great, she simply used that as an example of encouragement.
SO, now we move forward.
2003 I self-published. I began The Faery Chronicles novel series:
AND the latest not yet on my website:
I also put out 2 more non-fictions since then, replacing and MUCH better than the Faery Wicca books.
http://www.amazon.com/Faery-Faith-Traditional-Wisdom-CosmologyGlamoury/dp/1418492922/ref=pd_bxgy_b_img_y
So you see, no one got the best of me. No one took away my creativity. No one stopped my writing. I am a writer by nature... it's in my stars. And I fancy I will write until I am too old and feeble to sit at a computer or hold a pen in my fingers.
I have a novel in the works: In Search of the Beloveds, a new addition to The Faery Chronicles in the works and I'm currently working on a new non-fiction, The Care and Feeding of Light Body. If all goes well they'll be out later this year or 2015.
However, and this brings me to the whole purpose for this week's lengthy blog and that is, TODAY
this lovely book just hit the internet as a Kindle ebook! YAY! :)) I'm so excited and really I hope you'll buy it and read it. THIS is perhaps my master piece. I know that sounds silly but it poured out of me in 30 days, during a time my Muse was bleeding me out. It's magical and no matter how many times I read it, it's as if I am just a reader and not the author.
Here's a sampling... The first few pages:
And so it begins…
I
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f that wasn’t the case, then she absolutely wanted to know. After all, how could she fulfill her wish if she didn’t know? She couldn’t and that was that. Fawn turned to her assistant.
“Libby, call Cullen and use all your charm to get him to agree to interviewing with us,” she demanded, though the sound of Fawn’s voice was other than demanding, more like syrup oozing from a bottle. She didn’t watch Libby scurry from her office, but knew without looking that Libby had jumped to attention—as she always did—and practically ran to enact the order.
Fawn sat back in the high-back, expensive leather chair and swiveled around to look out her office window. Twenty stories above the ground, her view was of the broader city, a city she knew and loved so well. A city she must coax Cullen into moving to or at least for a visit.
The sunlight suddenly veiled behind storm clouds. Her reflection just as suddenly sat staring back at her. Platinum blonde hair fell in waves around her face, curling about her shoulders. She smiled and winked. Nobody would ever guess you were a day over twenty-five, she thought, leaning slightly forward to see if her green eyes would come into clarity.
“Ah, there we go,” she said just as the sunlight came again, catching in her eyes and causing the green to flare. “Just like sunshine! You could capture him.”
But will he come willingly? That was the unanswered question. Would he?
And what if he didn’t? Would she continue to crave him? Would she become more and more obsessed with him that she’d search the media for any mention of his name or to catch just a glimpse of him in a photo? Television, Internet, newspapers, magazines could potentially take-up hours of time if he didn’t come and her obsession for him grew.
“Knock knock?”
Fawn swiveled back around. Libby stood in the doorway. “I’ve a brilliant idea,” Libby said. “Or at least I think it’s brilliant.” She chuckled to herself.
“Well, let’s have it,” said Fawn, motioning for the lesser queen to take a seat. Libby instantly sprang forward, settling down, body poised, leaning toward Fawn as if in a hold, waiting for permission to jump on her.
“What if I could get Larry to invite Cullen to come? You know, invite Cullen to be the special guest of one of Larry’s Battle of the Band thingies he’s always sponsoring?” Libby straightened, eye-brows raised, a hopeful look on her face. “Or, or, what if Larry could create some special event just for Cullen, you know some world-charity event that would attract Cullen’s humanitarian ideals. That would probably be a better idea.” Libby paused and swished her mouth from side-to-side.
“Then, you haven’t called him yet?” said Fawn.
“Well, no,” admitted Libby, her shoulders slumping. “I had to go to the bathroom, and well, I started to think about different ways of enticing Cullen here and then I thought of Larry and I said to myself, ‘gosh Lib, that’s brilliant.’ I mean, after all, wouldn’t Cullen be more likely to come to Mag Mell for a king rather than to give an interview with a magazine?”
Fawn leaned back and looked away. Her assistant had something. In fact, Libby had hit it right on the head.
“Alright, you handle it with Larry,” she said. “Just get Cullen here. I’m desperate to meet this warrior.”
“He is that, isn’t he?” said Libby. “A warrior of the earth.”
“Of humanity.”
“So let’s make him Goddess Fawn’s Champion,” said Libby, smiling.
“Shoo, shoo,” said Fawn, this time watching her assistant rise, bow, and rush from the room, trusting the Ban Sidhe to execute an incredible plan like she always did, which was one of the reasons why Libby was still in Fawn’s service. Libby was totally reliable, though she did have a slightly un-refined side to her, but that didn’t worry Fawn, lesser queens often had such flaws and at least Libby’s wasn’t linked to appearance. Fawn hated appearance flaws. No, Libby was very pretty, with grey eyes and black curly hair, a small frame, and long slender hands, which Fawn found particularly attractive. She did, however, wish that Libby would snap-out of her retro-style of dress and begin wearing more modern, more sophisticated clothing. Ah, well, that in and of itself wasn’t even a flaw. Many of the Folks still dressed in the costume of yesteryear.
Libby’s flaws were in her quirkiness, her mannerisms, the way she often came-off sounding slightly stupid… maybe “gullible” was more it. Libby’s flaw was in her smarts, she just wasn’t quite witty enough, or quick enough, though she did come-up with some interesting ideas, like the one for Cullen.
Now, the question was would old Swift Hand at Sword, King Larry, Libby’s spouse, come through? Fawn glanced at her own spouse’s picture framed in pearls sitting to the side of her desk.
“Manny, you old fool,” Fawn said to the smiling image, a rather handsome image it was. “Always so careless toward me.” A heavy sigh rushed from her. She snatched-up the frame and brought it close to her eyes. He was beautiful. More beautiful then me, thought Fawn, sighing.
Manny was an elegant god. His wind-tasseled blonde hair swept back from a sun-tanned face, a weathered face from over-exposure to wind and sea but even the wear and tear on his skin didn’t diminish his loveliness. In fact, it made him more distinguished, more appealing, more of a woman-magnet, she thought much to her chagrin.
His casual but demanding stance aboard his vessel clearly communicated his ease on the open seas, his self-confidence—a lack of any fear whatsoever. Stately, slim, yet well shaped, all these characteristics had won Fawn over the first day she laid eyes on him. How many years ago? Too many to even count. Eons ago.
They’d never had a child. Many of the Folks didn’t have children, so there was nothing unusual about that. Although, Fawn was sure Manny had probably fathered enough demi-gods and demi-goddesses in middle earth across the globe to guarantee the continuation of his bloodline for a millennium. Or more.
Manny could have any number of women. Actually, any woman he wanted. There was never a problem with that, but he had chosen her as his spouse.
“Your beauty is as clear as a tear-drop that falls from the eye,” were the first words Manny said to Fawn. A “tear-drop?” For some reason the simile had always just slightly bothered her. To Fawn, a tear-drop implied sorrow, though once Libby had been quick to point-out that many people cried because of great joy.
“Great joy, Libby?” Fawn had said. “Who do you know that has cried because they were happy?”
Libby thought a few moments before answering, “Well, those humans earthside do all the time, Goddess Fawn.”
“Humans? Libby? Really? I’m talking about the Folks. Who in the Folks do you know cries from happiness? Let alone sorrow?” she added, turning from her assistant, having grown tired of the discussion.
So that was that. To Manny, Fawn, a goddess, was likened to a tear-drop in his eyes. From that day forth all the Folks called her such, “Tear-drop.”
She guessed it was better than bearing the nickname “The Hound,” like Cullen, or “Switch-hitter,” Libby’s nickname. Fawn shuddered at the thought. Tear-drop was much better. Funny how the Folks had such a need for euphemisms for one another, especially when interacting with the people; hidden identities, she supposed. Such things had been going on for centuries, long before she’d come into being, so long that it was now tradition.
Tradition was another funny thing about the Folks. Things had to be done in just such a way as they’d been done forever so as not to offend. But Fawn wondered who would actually be offended if and when traditions weren’t performed? She certainly wouldn’t be, and some of the traditional feats were done in her honor. Hmmm, she’d think more on that one and decide later as to whether or not there would be modifications given to the tribe in Tir Taingiri, her kingdom.
For now, she had more important and pressing matters to attend to—like Cullen, for instance. What is he up to, she wondered.
L
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ibby just couldn’t wait to talk to Larry until after she got home to their palace. She immediately picked-up the phone and called him. His groggy voice answered on the other end.
“Larry? Are you just now getting out of bed?” she asked.
There was a rustling of fabric, the creaking of their bed, followed by the sound of Larry clearing his throat.
“You are!” she accused.
“What? What? What?” her husband mumbled three times, each time the word getting clearer until the sleep was cleared from his throat and his voice came fully. “And what do you want, woman?”
“You would sleep all day, wouldn’t you, Larry? Sleep, sleep, sleep, that’s all you think about these days. What happened to that active Larry I first met? Where is that manly king I once knew? Why, hold the press! He’s in bed, sleeping the day away, getting softer by the hour just like the mattress he’s wearing out!”
Libby could just picture Larry holding the phone away from his ear and silently mocking her. What was wrong with her spouse?
“What is wrong with you?” She waited, but only received a cough and what sounded like a muffled fart.
“Larry! I’m speaking to you, at least have the courtesy to respond.”
“Well, if you’d give me a chance I would be more then happy to, but you just go off at the lip, nag, nag, nag, on and on, nagging, complaining, whining, sassing, complaining—“
“You already said ‘complaining’.”
There was a pause.
Larry cleared his throat.
“Well?” said Libby.
“Well what?” said Larry.
“Are you or aren’t you?”
“Libby, am I what?”
“Weren’t you listening to a word I was saying?” Libby shook her head. “Okay, I’ll say it again, this time please listen.”
“Alright.”
“Goddess Fawn—“
“Oh, I should have guessed this would have something to do with God Manny’s spouse,” said Larry.
“What do you mean?” But Libby didn’t wait for Larry’s response. “Never mind that. Goddess Fawn needs you to get Cullen to come to Mag Mell.”
“Cullen… as in… The Hound?”
Libby had her spouse’s attention. She smiled to herself. She knew this one was going to work. A sense of excitement shot through her. Wouldn’t she gain so much favor in Goddess Fawn’s eyes if she could get Larry to do this for her? She squirmed with giddiness, and wasn’t Larry taking her seriously now?
“Yes,” she squealed. “Cullen, as in The Hound. Goddess Fawn needs him here by Wintertide.”
“But its Samhain, All Hallow’s Eve tomorrow,” said Larry.
“Oh, you can do it, Larry! Just think of the headlines: Labraid, Swift Hand at Sword, Faery King of Mag Mell Catches Cullen, The Hound! Doesn’t that just give you the shivers?”
“Okay, okay, I admit I like the sound of that,” he said. “Now, why does Goddess Fawn want Cullen to come to Faeryland?”
This was where Libby would need to be coy. After all, she couldn’t very well tell her spouse that the goddess wanted to have a tryst with the demi-god, that would mean Larry would be intentionally helping Goddess Fawn betray her own spouse, who, after all, was god of the sea.
Libby hopped on one foot.
“I got it,” she actually said outloud.
“What?”
“Oh, never mind,” she said, hoping he hadn’t actually heard what she’d said. “Goddess Fawn wants Cullen to become Champion of… of… of the Kingdom of Labraid.”
“What? Goddess Fawn wants Cullen to become my Champion?”
“Yes, dear,” said Libby, trying to imitate the silky-smoothness of Goddess Fawn’s voice, especially when Goddess Fawn grew exasperated with her. “Can’t you put on one of your Battle of the Bands or some other Earth Steward humanitarian benefit concert that would lure Cullen into our part of the country to champion him to aide earth relief or some such thing like that?”
Libby could all but hear her spouse’s brain ticking through her words. She could imagine him sitting on the side of their bed, his elbows on his propped-up knees, tapping his finger against his bottom lip.
“Goddess Fawn wants the Gae Bulga doesn’t she?” said Larry finally.
“What?” said Libby, confused.
“Goddess Fawn wants Cullen’s great Barbed Spear, that’s what she’s after, and she’s using some humanitarian front to seduce it from him?”
“Now, dear,” Libby cooed into the mouthpiece. How in underworld did her spouse figure it out so quickly? “Tear-drop would never do something so human. I mean, really, she’s not in the habit of becoming some man’s lover. After all, she is ordained to God Manny, and what a catch he is.”
“Humph.”
She could hear the bed squeak and a rustling. “What in underworld are you doing? Larry?”
“Getting up.”
“Ah ha!” she said. “I knew you were still in bed!”
“Oh, Libby, Libby, Libby. Let me work on this for you. I’ll need Logan’s number. Logan is still Cullen’s assistant, right?”
“Logan? Hmm, I’m not sure, but I think so.”
“Well find out who Cullen’s assistant is and get me the number. I can’t bloody well schedule anything with Cullen without going through assistants, it wouldn’t be proper.”
“Oh, thank you Larry! I knew I could count on you my sweetheart!”
“Libby?” Larry’s voice sounded mushy.
Libby rolled her eyes. She knew what he was going to say next. “Yes Larry?”
“When you coming home, wet-bottom? You think you could steal away at noontide for the rest of the day? If you can, I’ll wait right here in bed for you.”
Libby tossed his offer back and forth in her mind. She decided she’d best comply, stay on her spouse’s good-side until she was sure the whole thing with Cullen was set in stone, then she could relax and refuse his sexual advances again… well, for awhile anyway.
“Absolutely, love-maker,” she said with a forced smile. Then the thought that having a little afternoon romp wouldn’t be half-bad suddenly refreshed her. Maybe a good shag was just the thing to give her a little impetus to do better in her service to Goddess Fawn, she had, as of late, grown a bit tired, maybe even a little bored of being at Goddess Fawn’s beck and call.
“In fact, give me—“ she checked her sundial, “twenty and I’ll be there. Mooch, mooch.” She smacked a kiss into the receiver and hung-up.
“Yes!” Libby twirled around in a circle, her arms raised over her head. “Who’s your queen? Who’s your queen?” she sang. “Why, I am. Why, I am, and proud of it. That’s right! Proud of it.”
“Libby?”
Libby came to a dead stop, her arms dropping to her sides. The goddess called again.
“Libby?”
“Coming,” answered Libby.
L
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arry was fascinated by the Ulster Heroes performance. The lead singer shimmied across the stage with a shrill ululation. The audience roared with appreciation. This year’s Macha Festival was spectacular. Larry had outdone himself again.
The splendor of decorations and lights throughout the village were exceptional. Larry made a mental note to Julies, his assistant, to hire the same Festival Decorator for his next event.
A pair of lovely young swans passed before him, their tender smiles and delicate hands fluttering. The two birds were deep in conversation. Probably over some young buck, he supposed. The juices of youth were always a-glow at the festivals, usually more so during May Day, which was opposite on the sun wheel from the Feast of Samhain, but no matter what the occasion sexual encounters were always high on everyone’s list.
Another note to Julies: find out who those two beauties are. Larry wanted to be sure to have them personally invited to dine at his table that evening.
He moved away from the stage and strolled slowly through the fair. Crowds gathered around the battle sports arena and the games of chess. He passed beautiful minstrelsy, the singing of the poets quite gratifying to his senses. He preferred the old customs to the Battle of the Bands, although the modern music made more money for him. He stopped to listen. Larry closed his eyes and swayed to the song. He opened them when someone bumped into him. It was Julies.
“King Larry, I’ve been looking all over for you,” gasped Julies.
“Quiet! Eejit!” Larry hissed, grabbing Julies by the arm and pulling him away from the small crowd as heads turned toward the commotion. Larry smiled and gave a nod, pulling the hat he wore farther down on his eyes.
“Eejit!” he scolded Julies. “I’m incognito. Nobody must know it is I.”
“No sir,” mumbled Julies.
Larry shot Julies a sour look.
“I mean, yes, sir,” said Julies. “Whatever you say sir.”
“Now, Eejit, two things before I forget. You must hire the same Festival Decorator for Wintertide. Her team has done a marvelous job decorating the site. I quite find it to my liking. Just look at how exquisite those floral swags are over there.”
“Yes, sir, Madame Eden does fabulous work,” Julies agreed.
“Oh she does at that. Why have we not used her before now?”
Julies scratched his head. “Well, sir, I believe it’s because she and M. Dear were living in the Royal House at Usneach, sir, but have since come to Mag Mell.”
“They were living in middle earth? Really?” Larry spotted the two swans. He elbowed Julies, who flinched from the pain.
“Tell me, who are those two exquisite birds?” Larry pointed; then quickly lowered his finger.
“Well, that’s Madame Eden and her assistant,” said Julies.
“Oh my, but didn’t M. Dear make a fine catch for himself.” Larry whistled.
“Yes, sir,” said Julies. “And the second thing you wish to tell me before you forget?”
Larry forced himself to look away from Eden. He glanced at Julies and cleared his throat. “Oh, never mind that it’s quite un-necessary now. However, I’ve an important task for you.”
“Which is?” Julies visibly shrank.
“An Earth Champion Benefit Concert at Wintertide,” said Larry, ignoring his assistant’s insolence. “Keynote is to be The Hound.”
“The Hound? But how on middle earth do I contact the demi-god?”
“I’ll have Libby provide you with Cullen’s assistant’s phone number. You two handle the arrangements.”
“Me and Switch-… I mean Queen Libby?” stammered Julies.
“No, Eejit! You and The Hound’s assistant. Ah, there comes my lady now.” Larry waved his hand in the air. “Libby, love, over here.” He didn’t give Julies another moment of his attention but headed toward Libby.
H
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owever, Julies followed on King Larry’s heels. There was no way he was going to be stuck having to get a telephone number on his own from the king’s spouse. He smiled and bowed to the queen when her lovely grey eyes fell on him.
“Queen Libby,” said Julies.
“Why, Eejit, it’s good to see you.”
Larry jerked around and glared. “Yes, yes, what is it now Eejit?”
“Nothing, sir. I just thought I’d make sure Queen Libby has my phone number so she can contact me with The Hound’s assistant’s phone number.”
“Oh that,” said Libby, tossing a black curl over her shoulder. “Well, now, I’ve not got that at the moment.” She smiled up at Larry, whose attention was already elsewhere. Libby leveled her eyes back on Julies, who was more her own size. “Actually, I’ve not even got Cullen’s number—“
“What?” said Larry, jutting his head down toward her.
“Well, dear,” she said, blinking her eyelashes. “I’ve misplaced it, I’m afraid. So, Goddess Fawn is sending me to middle earth on Monday to….” She cleared her throat. “To The Hound’s office.”
King Larry’s face flushed a nice shade of crimson and his lips stretched back, revealing closely clamped together teeth, the clamping of which caused his face to begin to twitch.
Queen Libby smiled all the more and blinked her eyelashes at King Larry. She cocked her head to one side and smiled at Julies, who had grown nervous and hadn’t a clue what to do. He found a speck of white fuzz on his black shirt that suddenly needed to be picked-off and gave his attention to the task. When he glanced back up his boss had regained a sense of composure, the crimson tide having receded, lips relaxed back over teeth, though King Larry was still clearly angry and in the process of boring holes into his spouse’s face with his stare, unsuccessfully Julies was pleased to observe.
Switch-hitter seemed oblivious to her spouse’s agitation and was chattering again.
“Oh, now, dear, it will be alright. I’ve been to middle earth many times and next week certainly won’t be anything new. After all, I’m quite looking forward to it. There’s that sweet shop on Grand Avenue I’ve been hearing about. I think I’ll pop in there and see if maybe I can’t find a few articles of fresh styles to add to my wardrobe. After all, both you and Goddess Fawn have been urging me to update for how long now?” She laughed. “So, I’m going to do a bit of shopping while there. Won’t that be lovely, my sweetheart?”
King Larry grabbed Julies by the arm and shoved him toward the queen.
“Eejit here will escort you,” he said.
Julies shot King Larry a look, wanting desperately to say, “Why I can’t go with her, I’ve got plans.” Instead Julies forced a smile and bobbed his head like one of those stupid bouncy-head dog statues some of the Folks had started putting on the dashboards of their vehicles.
“Oh isn’t that sweet of him Eejit,” Queen Libby said, patting Julies’ cheek. “But that won’t be necessary dear,” she said, shoving Julies aside, who was beginning to feel a bit like a punching bag or a rag-doll, or maybe even a… but then Julies realized what Queen Libby had just said and leaned forward to hear what she was then saying to King Larry as she hooked her arm through his and the two walked off.
“Really, dear, I’d rather not have—” she glanced back at Julies and smiled, then leaned-in close to her spouse and whispered, “Eejit with me! You know how he gets on my nerves. Besides, I’m taking Goddess Callie with me.”
Julies didn’t hear what King Larry said in response. He’d gotten hung-up on Queen Libby’s confession, that he irritated her, something he’d never suspected. Julies scratched his head and watched the royal couple stroll away and get swallowed into the crowd.
Well, he knew King Larry too well. Even if the king agreed with the queen that he wouldn’t need to escort her to middle earth, King Larry would send him anyway. There went his week. There went his date with Mabel, and he’d worked so hard to get up the nerve to ask her out on a date and had been shocked when she’d actually said, “Sure.”
He’d even been able to make reservations at the Bones Yard for dinner, another shocker, because the Bones Yard was a hard place to get reservations, especially during the Feast of Samhain, which lasted seven days and seven nights. He’d gotten the reservations for the last night of the Festival, when the poets and warriors, and the women and maidens in their dresses of many hues, and each with their strong-headed pins of gold, along with their cupbearers and the pages, would all assemble at the long table in the Great Hall along with all the champions, King Larry and Queen Libby to toast another wonderful year in Faeryland, the closure to another successful Festival.
He’d be damned if he was going to miss that. Besides, Queen Libby wouldn’t dare miss the opportunity to be seen glistening by her spouse’s side. No, the photo-op was just too great. Besides, if she didn’t appear with the king there would be way too many rumors circulating amongst the Folks and King Larry wouldn’t let that happen. Which meant, even if Queen Libby did go to middle earth on Monday, surely she’d be returned by Friday in time for the feast that night.
Julies relaxed. Sure, why not? He would gladly be the king’s spy, and if he did a good job, maybe that would get him a promotion? Or, at the least, he would gain favor in King Larry’s eyes and that would make the inconvenience worth every minute of it.
Just then, Julies caught sight of Mabel in a group of maidens. She looked beautiful in her red mantle, especially with her red curls and bright-blue eyes. She too had seen him and was giving him her shiest smile, though it looked a bit sexier then it did shy. This realization brought a tinge of movement to his groin.
Ooh, that’s good, thought Julies.
He straightened, smoothed back his hair, his shirt, and a-lined through the crowd for Mabel.
Julies would worry about being a royal spy on Monday, IF, that’s what he was asked to become.
Oh hey, and by the way... I share this on FB, but you know what, if you read it there and you've a comment, come on over to the blog here and post your comment, maybe start following my blog. *smiles* Sure would be nice.
Until next blog,
Here's to Happiness,
Kisma
What a read! From beginning to end. Wow. I didn't realize the full extent of your writing accomplishments, Kisma. Your journey is fascinating. I look forward to more...I love Tuesdays with you! Forever friendship = happiness. 8-)
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