Tag Archives: stories

[Review] Frostbeard Studios – Stay Home and Read

Get it while you can. After March, it gets moved to “Bring it Back.”

The candle for today is Stay Home and Read. It’s supposed to smell like a hazelnut cappuccino and a fireplace. I love hazelnut, but I’ve never had cappuccino (that I’m aware of, anyway), so I’m not sure how accurate that part of the scent is correct, but I can tell you I definitely do not smell a fireplace.

Like most of us, I always smell a candle before I actually light it; it’s usually a good indicator of what kind of scent to expect when it is lit. When I smelled this candle, I was immediately concerned that it would be too sweet. I gave it a chance though, and I’m glad I did. The scent is just barely on this side of not too sweet, and honestly? It makes my coffee taste better. Weird, but I like it. Not enough to buy the big candle, but enough that I would recommend it to anyone who likes the coffee shop feel when they’re writing.

Breakdown:

Frostbeard Studio says: I say:
Scent Details Hazelnut cappuccino and fireplace Every coffee shop EVER.
Scent Strength MediumLight-medium

Click on the bearded fellow above to order it while you can!

[Review] Frostbeard Studios – Bedtime Stories

Finally put in my order for the spring seasonal candles, and I am so ready to find out what Frostbeard Studios thinks a Sexy Librarian smells like.

This candle is now part of their “Bring it Back” collection.

The candle for this week is Bedtime Stories. According to the makers, this candle should smell like jasmine, chamomile and sandalwood, and – while I’m not sure about the sandalwood part – it seems to have hit the mark. It reminds me of when we would get my youngest nephew ready for bed when he was a baby. I’m not sure what baby wash my roommates used on him, but I remember the scent would mix with the lavender and chamomile lotion I use myself, and it would smell just like this candle (his family is more into bedtime songs, rather than stories, but anyway…). I can’t say the candle is a favorite, but I don’t consider it a waste of money either.

Breakdown:

Frostbeard Studio says: I say:
Scent Details Jasmine, Chamomile, Sandalwood Chamomile, baby powder and lavender.
Scent Strength MediumLight-medium

Currently unavailable


Click on the bearded fellow above to see what else they have available that might tickle your fancy~

[Announcement] Finals week.

abc books chalk chalkboard

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Just a heads up that there will not be an installment of “Don’t Feed the Trolls” this week. My university is online, but we still have finals. The professor for one class has given all of us an extension on the ones due for her class, but that’s not the only class I’m in, and my eye has been blurring more than usual (oh joy), which severely hampers my ability to write. Hopefully next week will be back to normal.

In the meantime, don’t forget to check out my Twitter for your #Batfile prompt, and I’ll be back on Monday with a Story and a Song.

[A Story & A Song] Starlight

Song and a story


I see it coming. Even moving at the speed of light, it’s slow enough for me to slip out of the way. The gas had collapsed on itself, then burst outward. Waves of stardust arching out into the void around it. Around me.

I’m tempted to trail my fingers through it as it passes by, let the particles stream between my fingers before they make their way across the universe. A millennium ago, I might’ve, but I know better now. I know to look ahead in time, and watch all the different paths my interference could set these particles on. The last thing I want to do is to cause the death of an entire solar system. Again.

Besides, I’ve waited too long for this. I spent half of eternity going from one end of the universe to the other, searching for a way to bring you back to me. It took me another three millennia before I thought to look into the patterns of the dust around me, and the atoms that made them up. The way they changed in time, but eventually I found it.

At the very edge of the universe – past what any electric eye on Earth could see – the dying star that would give birth to another – smaller – star, and the death of its child and so on and so on, until eventually it spews forth one final burst of energy before collapsing into itself.

That energy will travel through the cosmos until it collides with another star’s dying breath. The collision setting a chain of events that will give rise to your soul again. It will take a long time, this star is only on its second death and it still has at least three more to go, but it will happen.

In the meantime, I float here, untethered and unafraid, bathed in the light of a thousand galaxies as I wait for you.

From the album Vessels.

Available now:
| iTunes | Amazon | Google Play | Spotify |

Updates all around

Here, a selfie apology. (Ignore my hair. It’s a mess.)

Alright, so I know things have been quiet here, but it’s been a bit of a bumpy ride this past month/two months.

First, I had a tooth that decided to go abscess. For those of you who don’t know what that’s like – it sucks. And the pain makes it damn near impossible to sleep. I’m used to going without sleep, insomnia has been a lifelong friend, but combined with the pain…ugh. To make it even better, that was the week when a big paper for class was due. I ended up having to text my professor, letting her know that it was going to be late, and why. Fortunately, I had a very understanding teacher, and she gave me an extension, but I hated to do that.

Then: the company my roommates (and I, by extension) work for had an issue with the fire alarm/sprinkler system, so we were all on fire watch for almost two weeks. Basically, every hour, one of us had to do a round on the property to make sure nothing was on fire. Every. Hour. On top of working – and in my case – schooling.

Add in the end of the school year, both kids being home, finals week, the author interview from the other day, and various other issues that have popped up…it’s just been a nightmare. (Still trying to figure out what I’m going to do with my Mondays now that “Lucifer” is gone until next year…)

Not saying there hasn’t been good to go with the bad…I’m finally figuring out Instagram, I’ve rediscovered my love for VIXX (seriously, I’ve turned into a complete teenager over these boys. It’s a bit ridiculous),  and I started work on the proper sequel to Say “No!” to Zombies. 

Ladies and gentlemen, and everything in between or out, I would like to introduce you to Book 2 of “The Survivors Chronicles” (name may change): “Don’t Feed The Trolls.”

I even made you something…um…pretty? Ha. Enjoy. And scroll down for a very short preview. As always, when it comes to Shelly, there is a warning for language.

Don't Feed the Trolls (1).png

 

#DarkLightChallenge – Kids and Killing

He laughed. They screamed. He played. They died.

 


She pressed her cheek against the trunk – whip thin and dead fast – whispering, “No more killing, dear one. We’re safe now.” Flowers bloomed at her feet in answer.

 


He would’ve offered Kathy a drink of it, too, but the hole in her throat and vacant eyes told him she wouldn’t be able to appreciate it anyway.

 


Later came his favorite part though: an ice cream cone from the corner shop. Other kids had the tooth fairy – he had a double scoop strawberry and chocolate.

#PhotoStoryChallenge – Tunnel Vision

It’s late – this is the challenge from last week – but it’s here.

“Are you sure this is the right place, choti bahana?” Sarika Surya asked. “I’m not sensing anyone.”

Ash turned her attention away from her scrying plate to watch her sister twirl a makeshift staff around her body. Two hours ago, it had been a shovel. (“For disguise purposes,” Sarika had claimed.) Twenty minutes later, the wood had abruptly cracked, dropping the head to the ground behind them as they walked on.

“I’m positive.” Ash sent her vision higher. At the edge of her Sight, the city loomed, neon lights bright against the dark of the surrounding buildings – she could almost hear the honking of cars and chatter of people. Where she and her sister were though, huddled in the dark of the tunnel, all she could see was treetops and the road – empty for miles in both directions.

“I don’t get it.” Her shoulders slumped. “I followed the directions exactly. This is the tunnel the Healer is supposed to be at. It has to be.” She dissolved the thin sheet of ice she was using as a scry plate, letting the ice melt and reform around her wrists as bracelets. “Why isn’t she here?”

(Thanks for the Hindi translation, Alex!)

#PhotoStoryChallenge – Lonely Roads

Photo by Radina Valova


 

“No.”

“Wait-what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you forgotten how to English? Here: neinnyet, non, iie, bu. Are those any better?”

I looked at Sarah, sitting so prim and proper on the broken down doorstep of a former roadside shop, and sighed. “Fine.” I dropped down to sit next to her and instantly regretted it as my ass informed me that it had found a multitude of rusty nails and sharp pebbles. I grimaced but ignored the pinpricks of pain to focus on the more important pain in the ass. “If not here, then where?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah kicked at the ground, sending a plume of dust into the air. “Anywhere.”

“Anywhere, but here.”

She shrugged.

The customer is always right.’ I reminded myself. Leaning back on my hands, I stared up at the jagged hills lining the road. They tried so hard to look like mountains, but all I could see was a bunch of try hards and failed wannabes. I sighed again and stood up.

“Alright. You win. We’ll try somewhere else.” I shook my head at the grateful smile she sent my way, and headed back to my rental car. I could hear her footsteps as she scrambled to catch up with me. I waited until she was in her own car before pulling off the shoulder, leading her further into the country side.

I suppose, if I was going to pick a place to die, I, too, could think of better places to be killed than on this lonely road.

The things we realize…

It’s interesting how a random thought can turn into a realization about your entire childhood. A couple weeks ago, someone on Facebook posted about how they liked horseradish, and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

In the entire time that I knew him, and I’ll grant you, it wasn’t very long, but in that time, he never asked me to bring him anything. He would ask my cousins, or my aunts and uncles, but never me, and I think I finally figured out why.

To borrow the good ol’ sports analogy, I was born with two strikes against me. Let me explain…

First, my mother.

My mother is easily the most kind hearted person I know. Sometime early in my parent’s relationship, my mom was helping make sandwiches for lunch. My grandfather asked for horseradish on his. Mom, never having horseradish before, proceeded to slather it on to the bread like it was mayonnaise, and gave it to him. Grandpa took one bite, and spat it back out, yelling, “You trying to kill me, woman?!”

That was strike one.

Then, my sister.

My brother and sister are both 9+ years older than I am, and grew up when my family was especially church orientated. When I say “church orientated”, I mean, my father was a deacon, and my mother was a Sunday School teacher. So it was church every Wednesday, twice on Sunday, and every single day during Revival. This might not seem relevant, but bear with me.

Now, my grandfather liked to drink beer. He also liked to sit in his comfy chair, which left him with a problem: how to get a nice cold beer from the fridge…without getting out of his comfy chair. His solution was to ask my sister to bring him a beer.

Remember the thing about the church? Here is where it comes into play, because, you see, the church taught two major things: respecting your elders…and alcohol is bad. So, grandpa’s solution…became my sister’s problem. Alcohol was bad, but so was refusing to do what he asked her to. Fortunately, my sister has always been smart and came up with a solution to grandpa’s “solution.” She brought him a beer from the fridge, alright. But first, she gave it a good shake.

He made it through the unexpected beer shower the first time. And the second. And maybe even the third, I don’t remember how many times she did this to him before his cogs started turning, but eventually, he stopped asking her, and turned to my brother instead.

I love my sister, let me just get that out of the way now. She is the usually the sweetest little thing. However, she has her moments. And when grandpa asked our brother to bring him a beer? Well, she had a moment. She got our brother, three years younger than her, in on Operation Respect Our Elders/Beer is Bad. It eventually got to the point where grandpa would look around, realize that they were the only two there…and get up out of his chair to go get his beer, rather than risk another shower.

That was strike two.

By the time I came around, grandpa decided it was better to change sports than to worry about any curve balls I might’ve thrown him, and – just to be safe – he also wrote my name on all of the benches…with permanent marker. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, of course, I’m surprised he didn’t take a knife and carve my name into the wood.

At any rate, it’s a childhood mystery solved.

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