Available from Accent Press and
Saturday, March 31, 2018
Thursday, March 29, 2018
Ashley's Easter
Festivals took up a lot of time. There were rituals for every holiday, each god had to be honored, and some months were so full of festivities it’s a wonder the people got any work done. Maybe the secret to progress was ditching the deities, I thought one day, as I helped Chirpa clean the house. I was tired of always getting stuck with helping with ancient festivals. Fine, I was stuck in the past around 300 BC, but that shouldn’t mean I had to impersonate a goddess every time there was a solstice or something. Once, I’d blessed the fields — and couldn’t walk for a week. I wanted my kids to be civilized, not pagan. I’d have to install some of my more modern traditions in the family.
The problem with being born in 2377 was that time travel had been invented, but children’s stories and religion had been banned. I would have to invent my own traditions to share with my children.
We'd been back in Alexandria for a few weeks now and the spring solstice was just around the corner. We were making sure not a speck of dust remained, so that the house would be ready for the goddess's return. And who was coming back? Persephone, of course, my namesake - leaping from the cold arms of her husband, Hades, into the welcoming arms of her mother, Demeter. And since apparently Persephone wouldn't come if the house wasn't clean (I have had guests like that) we scrubbed.The problem with being born in 2377 was that time travel had been invented, but children’s stories and religion had been banned. I would have to invent my own traditions to share with my children.
I was getting sick of scrubbing. Axiom had gone to fetch the fresh herbs we needed to make the posies and bouquets, and I'd talked the boys into fetching eggs from our neighbor. In the back of my mind, I was planning a surprise. A real Easter egg hunt in ancient Alexandria - complete with dyed eggs, candies, and stories of the Easter bunny. I had been keeping the onion skins, beets, purple and red cabbage, turmeric and carrot tops for dyes. Chirpa, who had dyed eggs in Persia as part of the fertility festival, was my reluctant helper. Instead of cleaning, she argued, we were making more of a mess. At this rate, spring would never come.
When Paul and Chiron returned with the eggs, I sent them off on another errand with Brazza. Then Chirpa and I started boiling the ingredients and soaking the eggs. It was messy, slow work, and I was afraid Brazza would return with the boys before we finished. Chirpa was cross because the house wasn't cleaned, and Alexander, who came to see what "That awful smell was", fled the house and went to oversee construction of the Great Library.
I put all the different colored dyes in separate bowl, and put the hard-boiled eggs in to soak overnight. Chirpa grumbled about wasting dishes, and it occurred to me we had none left for dinner. But since I'd wanted to get a new set of dishes anyway, I left Chirpa to clean up the mess (her glare would have frozen the real Hades) and went to the market. Free at last! There was the newscaster, standing on his marble soapbox, the sale on parrots by the fountain, and the usual heckling and haggling going on at every stand. I located the pottery and dithered over a set with dolphins or a set with a chap in a chariot. The dolphins won, and I gave our address for delivery that evening.
There were no street names at this time, although I'd suggested to Alexander he might want to start that trend. Instead it was, "The hill over there, yes, that one. The big house on the top with the black front door - with the lion scratched on it." (Chiron's work. He got a scolding for scratching up a perfectly nice paint job).
That evening, after we'd hidden the eggs in the garden, I told the boys the story of the Easter bunny, which I didn't remember so well. My parents had never read stories to me, but I thought it had something about a watering can, a mean farmer, a goddess called Mary, her son Jesus, and their pet rabbit, Peter. I was embroidering a little - getting to the part where the mean farmer was about to kill the rabbit - when Alexander, who always liked to listen to my stories, interrupted.
"Does the rabbit get cooked with tarragon?" he asked. "Because I'm getting hungry, and that sounds good."
"Of course not!" I was cross. "The rabbit escapes, and becomes immortal, and brings the Easter eggs to good little boys and girls. He hides them in the garden."
Our scribe, Pan, (short for Panteleimon) had been listening, and had written the story down. Before I realized it, he headed towards the Great Library to file it. I was worried, then remembered the library would burn in a few centuries. Maybe a fragment of the story would remain, but it shouldn't change the timeline any. At least, I hoped.
The boys hunted for their eggs. Alexander found most of them. A few were found weeks and even months later. Chirpa liked the new dishes, (I gave them to her as a gift, for cleaning the house), and when I showed Chiron how to scratch drawings in the eggs, he promised not to scratch anymore lions on our front door. All in all, a good Easter, I thought!
Happy Easter from Ashley!
319 BC, Alexandria near Egypt.
The Road to Alexander
Point of Contact by Melanie Hansen
Point of Contact
by Melanie Hansen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Contemporary Romance (M/M)
There'd forever been a thread running through Trevor Estes's life—his son Riley, strong and constant like heartbeat. But when Riley is killed in combat, everything in Trevor's life unravels into a mess he doesn't know how to mourn.
Until Jesse Byrne, Riley's friend and platoon mate, arrives on his doorstep with a box of Riley's things. Jesse's all-too-familiar grief provides an unlikely source of comfort for Trevor; knowing he's not alone is exactly what he needs. Trevor never imagined he'd find someone who fills his heart with hope again. As the pair celebrate Riley's memory, their unique bond deepens into something irreplaceable—and something neither man can live without.
But diving into a relationship can't be so simple. Being together means Trevor risking the last link he has to his son...leaving Jesse to wonder if he'll ever be enough, or if Trevor will always be haunted by the past.
EXCERPT: Jesse led Trevor back over to their rock bench and knelt to rummage in his pack. “In Afghanistan, the tradition is to shoot flares off on the one-year anniversary of someone—of losing someone.” He pulled a small box out of a zippered pocket and held it up. “Obviously we can’t shoot off flares around here, but I thought maybe we could light these for Riley tonight.”
Trevor stared at him before reaching out to take the box from him. “Sparklers?” he said wonderingly. “You bought sparklers?”
“Yeah. I brought a lighter, too.” Jesse brandished it. “Hey, if you don’t want to, that’s—”
“No, it’s perfect. Riley loved these things on the Fourth of July.” Trevor took one out. “Here, light me.”
It took a few tries, but soon Trevor’s sparkler was burning, the little stick spitting and glowing bright in the dark night.
Jesse lit his off of Trevor’s, holding it away from himself, watching the shower of sparks. “God, I haven’t done these since I was a kid.”
“You can write in the air with them, remember?” Trevor made a curlicue motion, leaving behind a spiral of light that dissipated a split second later.
Jesse tried it, and soon they were laughing, trying to top each other’s skywriting artwork, running through the box of sparklers until they were down to the last few.
Finally Trevor sank down on the stone bench, holding his aloft and looking up at the sky. “I miss you, Riley James. I love you.”
Jesse hoisted his sparkler up, too. “Miss you, Riles.”
Trevor stared at him before reaching out to take the box from him. “Sparklers?” he said wonderingly. “You bought sparklers?”
“Yeah. I brought a lighter, too.” Jesse brandished it. “Hey, if you don’t want to, that’s—”
“No, it’s perfect. Riley loved these things on the Fourth of July.” Trevor took one out. “Here, light me.”
It took a few tries, but soon Trevor’s sparkler was burning, the little stick spitting and glowing bright in the dark night.
Jesse lit his off of Trevor’s, holding it away from himself, watching the shower of sparks. “God, I haven’t done these since I was a kid.”
“You can write in the air with them, remember?” Trevor made a curlicue motion, leaving behind a spiral of light that dissipated a split second later.
Jesse tried it, and soon they were laughing, trying to top each other’s skywriting artwork, running through the box of sparklers until they were down to the last few.
Finally Trevor sank down on the stone bench, holding his aloft and looking up at the sky. “I miss you, Riley James. I love you.”
Jesse hoisted his sparkler up, too. “Miss you, Riles.”
About the Author:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009084006829
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelJoyAZ
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13505006.Melanie_Hansen
Website: https://melaniehansenbooks.com
Book Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Point-Contact-Melanie-Hansen-ebook/dp/B076ZQR4F9/ref=sr_1_1
Melanie will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via a Rafflecopter giveaway
The blog tour today!
1: Casey's Corner
2: BooksChatter
3: Sharing Links and Wisdom
4: Long and Short Reviews
5: Let me tell you a story
6: Mello and June, It's a Book Thang!
Wednesday, March 28, 2018
Teaching kids the value of Money
I grew up poor. That’s no big deal – 90% of everyone in the world grows up poor, and when you’re a kid, you don’t even notice you’re poor.
So it was a surprise when I left school, became a model, and started making money. I got married young and my husband, the polo pro, earned enough money for us to pay rent and pay our travel expenses (when my husband was playing polo, we had to pay our own travel expenses and rent!)
So, I wanted to raise my kids knowing the value of money, and I was very careful about that.
One day, when I was expecting my third child, we went to a supermarket to shop. My twins wanted some chewing gum so I gave them a five franc piece to put in the gum machine. (5 francs at that time was about 1$ – it would have bought two jumbo balls of gum – outrageously expensive, no?) Well, the machine ate the money and refused to give the gum.
I went to the machine and jiggled it a bit, reached up under the flap to see if I could get the money or the gum. Nothing. So I went to the checkout and said, “The machine ate my 5 francs, I want it back.”
The check out girl said, “That’s not our machine. It belongs to a private company. We let them put the machines there. But we don’t have anything to do with it.”
I said, “Just give me the money back and tell the company they owe you five francs.”
The checkout girl refused. “It’s only five francs,” she snapped.
I was 8 months pregnant, wearing my sister-in-law’s old dress and my husband’s sneakers because my feet were so swollen, and this lady was telling me that it was Only five francs.
I went to the gum machine (it had wheels), and I started to push it out the door.
The checkout girl stood up and said, “Where are you taking that!”
“Home,” I said. “It has My five francs in it. I’m not leaving it here. I’ll give you my name and phone number so the company representative can call me and come give me my money back and get his machine.”
“You can’t do that!” she shrieked.
“What do you care? You said the gumball machine had nothing to do with your store.” I kept pushing.
The checkout girl knew when she was defeated. She pulled open her cash register and ran after me. “Here! Here are your five francs!”
I took the money and thanked her.
My twins have never forgotten the value of money.
The checkout girl now knows when an 8-month-pregnant woman comes in and asks for something, she better get it.
So it was a surprise when I left school, became a model, and started making money. I got married young and my husband, the polo pro, earned enough money for us to pay rent and pay our travel expenses (when my husband was playing polo, we had to pay our own travel expenses and rent!)
So, I wanted to raise my kids knowing the value of money, and I was very careful about that.
One day, when I was expecting my third child, we went to a supermarket to shop. My twins wanted some chewing gum so I gave them a five franc piece to put in the gum machine. (5 francs at that time was about 1$ – it would have bought two jumbo balls of gum – outrageously expensive, no?) Well, the machine ate the money and refused to give the gum.
I went to the machine and jiggled it a bit, reached up under the flap to see if I could get the money or the gum. Nothing. So I went to the checkout and said, “The machine ate my 5 francs, I want it back.”
The check out girl said, “That’s not our machine. It belongs to a private company. We let them put the machines there. But we don’t have anything to do with it.”
I said, “Just give me the money back and tell the company they owe you five francs.”
The checkout girl refused. “It’s only five francs,” she snapped.
I was 8 months pregnant, wearing my sister-in-law’s old dress and my husband’s sneakers because my feet were so swollen, and this lady was telling me that it was Only five francs.
I went to the gum machine (it had wheels), and I started to push it out the door.
The checkout girl stood up and said, “Where are you taking that!”
“Home,” I said. “It has My five francs in it. I’m not leaving it here. I’ll give you my name and phone number so the company representative can call me and come give me my money back and get his machine.”
“You can’t do that!” she shrieked.
“What do you care? You said the gumball machine had nothing to do with your store.” I kept pushing.
The checkout girl knew when she was defeated. She pulled open her cash register and ran after me. “Here! Here are your five francs!”
I took the money and thanked her.
My twins have never forgotten the value of money.
The checkout girl now knows when an 8-month-pregnant woman comes in and asks for something, she better get it.
Tuesday, March 27, 2018
Her Dom’s Secret Past by Suzy Shearer
Her Dom’s Secret Past
by Suzy Shearer
When Anabelle Rowley, fifty-five, takes a two-week break at an exclusive beach-front villa, she meets a man—but not just any man. Instead, this one ticks every box on her imaginary boyfriend list.
For fifty-two-year-old John Ethan, going on a short vacation to recover from injury and moving to Australia comes rather fast. Imagine his surprise when he meets a woman who arouses his every desire. Their holiday romance ignites fires in them both and this is something real, something long-lasting. But when Anabelle has to leave suddenly, neither has a way of finding the other again. Will they ever be able to locate each other? And if they do, then John must reveal a secret, a secret that he fears Anabelle will never understand.
NOTE: This is told in 1st person POV from both the Hero and Heroine.
This is an erotic romance. There are explicit sexual descriptions and explicit language used throughout. It may offend some readers.
EXCERPT:
Somehow, I’d managed to keep on my feet when the big wave crashed over Anabelle and me. She surfaced, spluttering, and I held out a hand. She let me help her up and I held her hand a little longer than necessary.
“Thank you, John.”
“You’re welcome. That was one big wave.”
“Sure was, but it’s fun.”
She was still grinning and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned toward her and our lips touched.
It was all I’d dreamed of and more. It was electrifying.
Our kiss was soft, tender, and a little unsure until I felt her press toward me. I put a hand behind her head and deepened the kiss. Oh yeah, I could get used to this.
We finally separated and gazed at each other. Her eyes had dilated slightly and her lips parted as she stared into my eyes.
“I couldn’t resist.”
“I … neither could I, John.”
“I’d certainly like to do it again.”
“Then maybe you should.”
We stood there, the waves crashing around us, as I kissed her again. This time I took my time reveling in the taste of her, mixed with the salty water. Her hands pressed against my chest.
When we stopped, I whispered, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you reading.”
“You have?”
I nodded and traced her lips. Her eyes seemed to shut of their own accord as my fingers explored her gorgeous, full mouth. When she opened her eyes, I decided I should kiss her again.
It was wild.
The surf pounding against us, the sound of the ocean, and Anabelle in my arms. Another big wave hit us and sent us both under. I grabbed her hand as we fought our way back up to the surface.
“Sadly I have to accept that kissing and big waves don’t mix very well.”
She gave another of her lovely carefree laughs.
© Suzy Shearer 2018
For fifty-two-year-old John Ethan, going on a short vacation to recover from injury and moving to Australia comes rather fast. Imagine his surprise when he meets a woman who arouses his every desire. Their holiday romance ignites fires in them both and this is something real, something long-lasting. But when Anabelle has to leave suddenly, neither has a way of finding the other again. Will they ever be able to locate each other? And if they do, then John must reveal a secret, a secret that he fears Anabelle will never understand.
NOTE: This is told in 1st person POV from both the Hero and Heroine.
This is an erotic romance. There are explicit sexual descriptions and explicit language used throughout. It may offend some readers.
EXCERPT:
Somehow, I’d managed to keep on my feet when the big wave crashed over Anabelle and me. She surfaced, spluttering, and I held out a hand. She let me help her up and I held her hand a little longer than necessary.
“Thank you, John.”
“You’re welcome. That was one big wave.”
“Sure was, but it’s fun.”
She was still grinning and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned toward her and our lips touched.
It was all I’d dreamed of and more. It was electrifying.
Our kiss was soft, tender, and a little unsure until I felt her press toward me. I put a hand behind her head and deepened the kiss. Oh yeah, I could get used to this.
We finally separated and gazed at each other. Her eyes had dilated slightly and her lips parted as she stared into my eyes.
“I couldn’t resist.”
“I … neither could I, John.”
“I’d certainly like to do it again.”
“Then maybe you should.”
We stood there, the waves crashing around us, as I kissed her again. This time I took my time reveling in the taste of her, mixed with the salty water. Her hands pressed against my chest.
When we stopped, I whispered, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you reading.”
“You have?”
I nodded and traced her lips. Her eyes seemed to shut of their own accord as my fingers explored her gorgeous, full mouth. When she opened her eyes, I decided I should kiss her again.
It was wild.
The surf pounding against us, the sound of the ocean, and Anabelle in my arms. Another big wave hit us and sent us both under. I grabbed her hand as we fought our way back up to the surface.
“Sadly I have to accept that kissing and big waves don’t mix very well.”
She gave another of her lovely carefree laughs.
Heat Rating: Level 3
Word Count: 86,000
© Suzy Shearer 2018
Author Suzy Shearer writes contemporary and paranormal erotic romances filled with mature and interesting characters. Her book Build A Love was runner-up in the Ménage category in the Easy Chair Bookshop's Fiction competition 2015 and A Hunter's Heart was runner-up in the Series Category. Perfect Three reached #20 on Amazon's Top Paid 100 Bestsellers in the erotic/interracial category while Build A Love was #8 on Amazon's list in the erotic/ménage category.
In 2017 Suzy was nominated for the Best Established Author in the Australian Romance Today Readers’ Choice Award. She made it through all the rounds to reach the finals. She came 8th in that final round against some extremely talented and well-known Australian Romance Authors.
A Buddhist, Suzy is single and lives in the Western Suburbs of Sydney, Australia with one very spoilt dog and two equally spoilt cats keeping her company.
Her books always feature older heroes and heroines; ranging from mid 40s to 60s. The heroines are usually confident plus-sized women who are proud of their curves. Suzy feels it's important for readers to connect. When she discovered many romance books seemed to cater for younger readers with their heroines and heroes in the 20s she decided to write about characters who were older but maybe not always wiser. As she is in her 60s Suzy feels she can relate to her characters desires, fears and hopes and hopes her readers can as well.
Suzy also wants her readers to understand just because people are older doesn't mean they aren't intriguing, desirable, open to challenges and willing to experiment. Sexy isn't just for the under 30s.
When Suzy is not writing, she is usually painting - an accomplished watercolour Artist her subjects range from portraits and animals to nudes and landscapes.
LINKS - WHERE TO FIND SUZY:
Website : http://suzyshearer.wix.com/suzy
Twitter : https://twitter.com/SuzyShearer
Linkedin: http://au.linkedin.com/in/suzyshearer
Publisher: http://www.bookstrand.com/suzy-shearer
Email her at: suzyshearer@optusnet.com.au
A FEW LINKS WHERE TO BUY:
E-BOOKS OUT NOW
The Club series
The Club: Bound
The Club 2: Uncollared
The Club 3: Waxed
The Club 4: Displayed
The Club 5: Submit
The Club 6: Unmasked
|
The Hunters series
A Hunter's Heart - Book 1
A Hunter’s Choice - Book 2
A Hunter’s Challenge - Book 3
|
Dark Desires series
(each book is a standalone)
Whipped Delights
Craving Her Master
Melting Her Dom’s Heart
An Artist’s Kiss
Elephants and Ever-Afters
|
Single Titles
Daemons Are Forever
Build a Love
Perfect Three
Her Dom’s Secret Past
PAPERBACKS OUT NOW
Vol 1 - The Club (Bound and Uncollared)
Vol 2 – The Club (Waxed and Displayed)
Vol 3 – The Club (Submit and Unmasked)
A Hunter’s Heart
A Hunter’s Choice
A Hunter’s Challenge
Perfect Three
|
Daemons Are Forever
Build A Love
Whipped Delights
Craving Her Master
Melting Her Dom’s Heart
An Artist’s Kiss
Elephants and Ever-Afters
|
Sunday, March 25, 2018
I is for Inspiration
I
is for Inspiration
It’s
spring, the equinox has passed, and now the days are getting longer.
I sacrificed a bar of chocolate upon the altar of Persephone to
welcome the rebirth of a new year. Actually, I’ve been knee-deep in
edits, on the phone with my incredible editor every day, debating on
where to put commas (actually there is no debate, she says “put”
and I put); finding typos (if she says “put” and I putt, I expect
my readers will be confused); untangling complicated sentences (no
one wants to spend five minutes figuring out who is saying what about
what); and generally smoothing out the books in the series. Let us
sacrifice another bar of chocolate to the nine muses, who help us in
our artistic creations. In ancient days, the muses were invoked by
the artist to help him. For example:
Homer
in The
Iliad
begins many of his stanzas by invoking the muses to help him tell the
tale: ἔσπετε νῦν μοι Μοῦσαι Ὀλύμπια
δώματ᾽ ἔχουσαι, (Tell me now, Muses who have homes on
Olympus, …)
The
first lines of The
Iliad
invokes the muses: “Sing, O goddess, the destructive wrath of
Achilles, son of Peleus, which brought countless woes upon the
Greeks, and hurled many valiant souls of heroes down to Hades…”
And
in The
Odyssey,
“Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of that man
skilled in all ways of contending, the wanderer, harried for years on
end, after he plundered the stronghold on the proud height of Troy.”
We
say we’ve “lost our muse” when we can’t create, we muse, are
amused, bemused, and we go to museums. Museum is from Greek mouseion
“place of study, library”, originally “a seat or shrine of the
Muses,” from Mousa
“Muse”.
Friday, March 23, 2018
Interview with Alexander the Great by Ashley Riverain
(Guest Post on author Karen King’s blog)
This week we’re going back to Ancient Greece for an interview with Alexander the Great by Ashley Riverain, from Jennifer Macaire’s The Road to Alexander (Book 1 in the Time for Alexander series).
First, let’s find out a bit more about the book.
Blurb:
After winning a prestigious award, Ashley is chosen to travel through time and interview a historical figure. Choosing her childhood hero Alexander the Great, she is sent back in time for less than a day. He mistakes her for Persephone, goddess of the dead, and kidnaps her, stranding her in his own time. What follows, after she awakes under the pomegranate tree, is a hilarious, mind-bending tale of a modern woman immersed in the ancient throes of sex, love, quite a bit of vino, war, death and ever so much more.
intrigued? Let’s move onto Ashley’s interview with Alexander
Notes from Tempus University – time travel program. Background:Ashley Riverain won a prestigious award, and was sent back in time to interview Alexander the Great. All that made it back were part of her notes, inscribed on a memory stick disguised as an amulet. What follows is the transcription.
Ashley Riverain (hereby known as AR): Testing, one, two, three, test…holy shit. Sorry. Erase. Repeat. Erase. (Tapping sound). I have arrived in 333 BC. It is early morning, nearly sunrise, and the air is incredibly clear. I can see smoke rising, so I will head in that direction. I believe Alexander’s encampment is just over the rise. (Sound of footsteps on grass. Thud.) Ouch! Shit. Stupid sandals. Who made these things? (Sound of footsteps and then a gasp) I’ve just topped the rise. The encampment is amazing. Huge. Well organized. It is set up not far from a river. I see stables with paddocks and horses. On a plain, the soldier’s tents are all set up in neat rows. There are blacksmith tents, cooks’ tents with hundreds of clay pots for baking bread, there is a hedge of spears outside another tent. Must be the weapon repair shop. There is a large tent set up by itself, it must be Alexander’s tent. Since there are guards outside it, I’m assuming he’s inside.
(Sounds of footsteps, another thud) I hate these sandals!
Note by student: AR has prompted her tradiscope (cortex implant that enables speaking any language) so the rest of this interview is conducted in ancient Greek, Persian, and a barbarian dialect believing to be from Bactria. Alexander was testing her in different languages, but because of the tradiscope’s abilities, Ashley was able to reply in every language. We believe this may be part of the reason why Alexander kidnapped her. We skip the part where she speaks to the guards to let her pass. She claims to be an oneirocrite, and says she has an important dream to relate to Alexander. The guards announce her, and she enters the tent.
AR: I have come from far away to speak with you, O Mighty King.
Alexander: You can call me Alexander. I dislike titles. Where exactly are you from? I’ve never heard an accent such as yours, and I have traveled widely.
AR: Um…far away. Over the mountains. You wouldn’t know the place.
Alexander: Try me. I like a challenge.
AR: I’d rather talk about you.
Alexander: Not until I’ve heard all about you. You say you’re a oneirocrite – someone who interprets dreams, is that right? So, Where are you from, and what have you dreamt? Here, have a bunch of grapes.
AR: I dreamt you told me why you were conquering the world.
Alexander: Don’t take that bunch – that’s the poisoned bunch I keep in case an enemy comes to call. I’m not interested in conquering the world, I am interested in Greece and Macedonia. I’m heading towards Babylon, where Darius will sue for peace. Did you see my soldiers? Everyone is in awe of me, now that I beat Darius. (Sound of chuckle). You still haven’t told me where you are from.
AR: Uh. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of America?
Alexander: Why no! I have not! You do come from a place I’ve never heard of. How amazing. (Sound of someone getting up and pacing. Sound of tent flap moving) The sun has fully risen. Soon I must make my rounds.
AR: Did you just wake up?
Alexander: No. I wake up before dawn. I already have been to see the cooks and the horses, and my generals. You’ll have to come see my horse, he is quite amazing. So, what dream did you have of me again? Something about me conquering the world? I have no wish to do so. You must be a poor oneirocrite – that’s why they chose you to see me – no one else wanted to walk so far, right? Don’t look so downcast. I don’t mind. I don’t believe in that stuff anyhow. Or not much. Birds!*
(*Here Alexander switches from Greek to Persian)
AR: Birds?
Alexander: I think birds are portents of omens. The other day, a hawk dropped a mouse at my feet. What do you think that means?
AR: I have no idea. Um, look, I hate to insist, but I have some questions for you, if you don’t mind. First-
Alexander: What color is your hair? Why did you shave it all off?
AR: What? Oh, it’s blond. I shaved it because someone told me it was the latest fashion.
Alexander: Someone doesn’t like you very much. It was the fashion a decade ago. Nowadays, all the women wear their hair long.
AR: (Sounds angry) It was the same person who gave me the sandals. (Whispers into the recorder) When I get back, the fashion consultant will have some explaining to do.
Alexander: That’s too bad, because you are a striking woman. Almost as tall as I am. And straight, white teeth.
AR: Please, could we get back to the subject of my questions?
Alexander: A woman with a one-track mind. You remind me of my mother. (Switches to a barbarian dialect).
AR: Your mother?
Alexander: She used to tell me to stop sucking my thumb, so I did it for years. Just to annoy her.
AR: That explains your teeth. You have a slight overbite.
Alexander: I’d like you to explain your gift for languages. No one but my translators speak so many. Are you a spy?
AR: (sounds frightened) No, no, of course not! I just had a few questions for you, about your plans for the future…
Alexander: I told you. I’m going to Babylon, I’ll probably marry one of Darius’s daughters for politics, then I’ll go back to Greece and rule from there. Darius will have to go to Ecbatana, where his mother lives. She’ll keep him out of trouble. I may let my mother rule Bablylon. She’ll like that. And it will keep her out of trouble. She keeps trying to poison people.
AR: Er…that is so, um, completely different from my, er, dream. Are you sure that’s what you plan to do?
Alexander: I already told you. You’re a terrible oneirocrite. But you’d make a good translator.
(Note – the amulet recorder was damaged in the tractor beam from some sort of scuffle. Therefor, no more of Ashley’s interview survived. The Time Senders believe Alexander kidnapped her to become one of his translators. No one can explain the discrepancies between Alexander the Great’s plans for the future as told to Ashley Riverain and what he subsequently did (i.e., go into the heart of Persia and then all the way to India. Why? We may never know. The second time traveler sent back to interview Alexander disappeared as well – his amulet/recorder was not recovered, and Alexander the Great has been classified as a particularly dangerous subject. Idem for his mother.)
Excerpt from “The Road to Alexander”.
‘Oh! There you are!’ cried Alexander, standing up and holding out his arms. ‘I was worried. Did you find your new shoes? Yes, I see you did. The village priest has come to thank you for your sandals. In exchange, he has agreed to forsake all virgin sacrifices. Isn’t that wonderful? Your mother will be thrilled.’
‘I’m sure she will be,’ I said with the utmost truthfulness. Then I went into the tent and collapsed.
Alexander came in to join me about an hour later. He stretched out on the bed next to me and tickled my back until I finally turned to face him.
‘Is it so very difficult?’ he asked me, his face a study in sorrow.
‘What?’
‘Living with mortals. I’m sorry if you’re unhappy. I wasn’t thinking when I snatched you from Hades’ grasp. I thought you wouldn’t want to go back. I admit to being selfish, I wanted to keep you by my side, but I didn’t think of the consequences. Will they be terrible? Will your mother put a curse on me? Is it too late for you to go back?’
I thought about what to say. Alexander folded his arms beneath his chin and waited patiently. Today, his eyes had the candid stare of a lion.
‘I can never go back,’ I said, ‘at least not in your lifetime.’
‘You’re bound to me for my lifetime,’ said Alexander. He said it as if he were pronouncing vows, and I shivered.
‘I did want to go back. But some of it was my fault because part of me wanted to stay here with you, and I was lost because I couldn’t make myself clear.’ I was silent again, watching him. His stare never wavered. ‘My mother will not put a curse on you,’ I said. ‘You will never have to worry about that.’
‘But what about Hades?’ he asked. ‘I’ve cheated him out of a bride.’
‘We won’t have to worry about him either.’
Want to read more? You can buy the book here:
Amazon.com: http://a.co/1eUv5aF
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
-
Phantoms by Michael Leon & Chrissie Anthony ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ GENRE: Fantasy/romance ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NOTE: The book will be o... -
The Rose by PD Alleva ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ GENRE : Dystopian Science Fiction Thriller ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ BLURB: A masterful, dystopian science f... -
Movie Magic by Michelle Garren Flye GENRE: contemporary romance ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ BLURB: Lights…camera…magic! ...