Myrtle Brooks brings Yellowstone to Life

My guest today is Myrtle Brooks. Her work is more mystic than fantasy. It glories in the beautiful of the natural world, and one of my favorite places on earth, Yellowstone National Park. This should remind us of the importance of protecting our parks and public lands from the political forces that now threaten them.

As written beneath her yearbook photo, Class of 1970, the expressed lifetime goal of the author herein known as Myrtle Brooks is: “to realize the love present in everything.” When not at home in her beloved Brooklyn, N.Y., she may be found dancing with the big rigs on the interstate as she heads for places of quiet beauty.

Interview

1.      Tell us a little about yourself? 

I am a retired clerk from the United States Postal Service in Brooklyn, N.Y. When I got my first driver’s license c. 11 years ago, I hit the highways to California and back. Writing found me at an early age when my grade school teacher told us to pen a poem. It was ‘Love at first write.’ Having traveled to Yellowstone Park at age 10, my return there in 2009 revived the childhood short story I had started, entitled: The Geyser Girl. Blessed with the maturity to pull the story together, beginning with its theme, I began what turned into a full-blown novel.

2.      What are your biggest literary influences? Favorite authors and why?

The Bible is my first influence. And as a grown child (smile), I have never outgrown the fairy tales and cartoons with which I was reared. Each novel or book of short stories I read is an intravenous injection of vitamins and tonics. Love Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca. Her world is astonishingly lush and vivid like a thick perfume which lingers long after the last page.

3.      Tell us something about how you write? i.e. are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you have any weird or necessary writing habits or rituals? 

A pantser with self-discipline (smile). The story carries me. I live a vicarious life through my characters: laugh and cry with them as events unfold. But when I get stuck, I turn into a temporary mini-plotter, writing directional possibilities down and making choices. I want to convey life’s realities: no one knows what will happen from one moment to the next: why should my characters?

4.      Do you think people have misconceptions about the speculative fiction? Why do you think it is a worthwhile genre?

I believe anyone inspired by the genre will love and understand its genius. It enables every possibility of the imagination and evokes the same in the reader, while many times grounding itself in fact.

5.      What was the hardest part of writing your book? 

There wasn’t any. Editing, however… ahem…

6.      What is your favorite writing tip or quote? 

Never write, worrying whether anyone else will like your work. That is not writing: it is editing.

7.      Tell us a little about your plans for the future.  Do you have any other books in the works? 

Endeavoring to finish editing my completed second novel. It is in the beta-reader stage.

 Where can we find you online? 

Website 

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Twitter: @JGCitygin

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The Geyser Girl of Yellowstone Park

In Yellowstone National Park at the turn of the twentieth century, an infant of mysterious origin is
adopted by Old Faithful geyser and by a mother buffalo named Bearer of Song. Beloved to all the park, Flower of the Steam Basin grows up with their stories, proverbial sayings and teachings: in a land where the animals, winds and geysers speak their own languages.

Having met a child her age and her parents, trust ripens between families, and Flower of the Steam Basin gains a closely protective circle of human friends. At nine, she is brought face-to-face with Retired Lieutenant Ned Halpen of the Yellowstone Cavalry, whose exemplary career embodied the role of protector of Yellowstone’s spiritual and physical heritage.

In the wake of Lt. Halpen’s passing, her sacred vow to continue his legacy brings both reward and mortal danger. And when the circle is breached, Flower of the Steam Basin and her father are forced to choose between her well-being and the performance of her sworn duties.

This is her story as seen through the eyes of Yellowstone.

Excerpt

In a sacred and pristine land called: Yellowstone Park, the story has been recounted of the baby found crying amid the geysers with none but a diaper cloth for her cover, some many snowy April nights ago.

After the western sun has faded, the trails of car headlights and tail lights dissipated and the campfires laid low, it is echoed throughout the mountains and hills from Wyoming to Montana and Idaho, from the deeps of the blue waters to the winds that sweep through the tall and stately pines.

The bears taking up residence in the eastern region of the park recall it was a mother buffalo named: Bearer of Song, who pitied the girl and longed to take her in. But as she approached, the child crawled towards the elder geyser spring called: Old Faithful and disappeared down into his hole.

The cries of the mother alerted the families of buffalo and bears in the southwestern parts. They sent word, to learn if any humans had reported a missing child to the U.S. Cavalry. There had been one report two days prior, that of a five-year-old boy discovered wandering off into the woods to chase a whitetail deer. His distressed parents, overjoyed at his return, had fallen upon him tearfully, hugged him and spanked him.

But neither did the animals inside Yellowstone Park nor those outside its borders know of anyone coming forward to claim this infant girl.

All the animals feared that she had died.

But she did not die.

The flakes of snow swirling in the icy gusts of wind heard Old Faithful call the child, that night, as they danced close to the earth. “Come; take your refuge with me. Warm yourself in my abode, and drink of my waters.” As the flakes were lifted high again, they carried Old Faithful’s words to the tops of the pines in the surrounding woods.

When the grieving Bearer of Song awoke to nurse her newborn son whom she had named: Races with Lightning, an elk was passing. “Why are you crying?” he asked her.

“I mourn the loss of a child never having known the good and sweet things of life. And I, robbed of the opportunity to give her these. Oh, had I been but a few steps closer...”

“The baby has been given these even as we speak,” the elk told her in gentle tones.

“Only in the Kingdom of Heaven.” She continued to weep.

“She has been taken in by the Faithful Elder,” the elk explained. “To be reared as his own. All the treasures of his wisdom will be hers.”

Overcome by great relief and joy mixed with a mother’s longing, Bearer of Song fell silent, her son nursing at her side.

At daybreak, she arose and hastily prepared to leave. Her husband, named: Sires with Grace, sensing her urgency, enquired where she was bound.

“I am going to see the Faithful Elder.” She stood erect and determined.

“My wife, few better places to be brought up than in the house of the elder of our land, whose inspired ascent is teacher to us all. Would you seek to take away from the child such extraordinary gifts?”

“I was also there, my husband,” she reminded him. “And have tasted the salt of a mother’s tears as they flowed down upon my lips. I will do no such thing as deprive her of her gifts; only speak in the way a mother speaks: from the soul within her frame.”

“Then, you must do as your heart bids you.” 

If you like what you've read, please comment below. The book can be purchased at the following link:

Deleted Prologue for The Ghost in Exile

I ultimately decided to delete this prologue from the final version of The Ghost in Exile because I decided that the novel worked better started at a later point in the story. Still, I rather like it, so I'm posted in here to get you in the mood for the release of The Ghost in Exile on November 25. Tell me what you think of the prologue in the comments below.

Prologue

Disguised as a palace footman, The Ghost slit another guard's throat as he neared Duke Argblutal's chambers. He walked carefully in soft-soled shoes so his footsteps didn’t echo off the flagstone floors of the palace corridors. Morning light streamed through the open windows. He hadn't counted how many men he'd killed to get this far. He no longer cared. They were all responsible for Samantha's tears. They all supported the man who would steal her throne. Nobody could treat his daughter this way and live.

He heard voices coming from the open doorway ahead. "And the bastard's army?" Duke Argblutal asked. The Ghost didn’t know how the usurper had found out that The Ghost, and not the king, fathered the crown princess, but such accusations would die with him.

"It's larger than we believed, at least two thousand strong,” a second voice answered. “Some of them are untrained peasants, but we are still outnumbered nearly five to one. The people throng into the street to join her."

"How can they want a bastard on the throne?" The duke's voice dripped with venom.

The Ghost took two more strides, threw a knife, and the duke's underling fell face down into the room. He stepped over the body and hissed, "Because she's far more fit to rule than you.”

"Guards!" the duke yelled.

The Ghost laughed. "There are no guards to hear you. I've been most thorough."

Argblutal grabbed his sword. The walls of his chamber were covered with the heads of beasts that he’d no doubt severed with that sword, including a panther, which was the symbol of his house.  "Do you honestly think you're my match?" Argblutal sneered.

"Easily." The Ghost drew his sword. He could have killed the duke with a throwing knife. But that would have been too quick. The monster had to be made to feel all the pain he'd caused Samantha. That wasn't possible, though. It took a heart to suffer as she had. The Ghost lunged in for a quick attack. Argblutal parried, but The Ghost's sword made a shallow slice across the duke's upper arm. Blood began to trickle from the wound.

"You think the people will bow the knee before a bastard?" Argblutal tried to taunt him, but The Ghost didn't answer. Words were wasted breath. Relentlessly, he battered Argblutal back toward the wall. Blood sprang from wounds on the duke's legs and arms. The Ghost was vaguely aware the duke had scored a few small hits of his own. But The Ghost was no longer mortal. He didn't feel pain.

Argblutal was weakening, and he again yelled for assistance. His parries became wilder and clumsier, and The Ghost saw his opening. He swung his sword toward the duke's stomach, slicing open his midsection and spilling his entrails. The duke clutched at his guts and dropped to his knees. The Ghost bent down beside him.

"Who are you?" Argblutal hissed.

The Ghost pulled the wax off his face.

"Darhour, is it?" Argblutal sputtered. But The Ghost was Darhour no longer. He’d left that identity behind when he broke his vow never to kill again. "Do you really think they will bend the knee to the daughter of a stable groom?"

"You'll never know if they do or not." The Ghost looked at the duke's stomach wound. "You could take three days to die of such wounds. Pity, I can't spare the time to watch." He sheathed his sword and drew a knife. "I've heard you remove the manhood of those who disappoint you."

Argblutal’s scream as The Ghost castrated him in no way soothed the heart that had listened to his daughter sob. The duke had to be made to feel more pain. The Ghost wanted to dismember him piece by piece. Kill him as he’d killed the man who gave him the scars that marred his face and body. But he hadn’t the time. His daughter’s army was at the gates. Even now, he could hear her voice echoing through the palace grounds, asking the duke’s men to surrender. But they never would while Argblutal lived.

The Ghost drew his sword and cut off the usurper’s head. A pike rested nearby. The Ghost placed the duke’s head on it. Then he opened the doors to the palace balcony and displayed the head above the railing.

He watched from a side window until the duke’s men surrendered, and Samantha with the sorcerer and her army rode through the palace gates. She was safe now, his job complete.

He looked down at his blood-soaked clothing, a testimony to how thoroughly he’d broken his vow to the goddess. He told himself he should feel something, but he felt nothing—not regret, not sorrow, not even vindication. His soul was now completely dark. He was truly a monster; as he looked through the window at the auburn hair of his daughter shining in the sunlight, he knew this was the last look he could allow himself of her. If he stayed, he would blacken her soul. Besides, if Argblutal had discovered the connection between them, someone else could as well. He had to get away, far from Korthlundia where his daughter would reign. Only one place in the world could a killer like him be at home—Saloyna, the land that had turned a simple stable groom into an assassin whose reputation spanned the world.

“Goodbye, Samantha,” he whispered. “Please forgive me, my daughter.” Just what he was asking forgiveness for, he didn’t know. For leaving? No, he had no choice. For fathering her? How could he regret what she had become? For her finding out about the bond between them? Yes, that he regretted and wished there had been some way to keep her ignorant. He took one last look at her, holding hands with the sorcerer, and slipped back to his own quarters.

He took off his clothes, threw them in a corner, and washed the blood from his body. He bound the shallow wounds the duke had given him and changed into the livery of a palace servant. With wax and makeup he disguised his facial scars. He packed quickly—a couple of changes of clothes, the makeup for his disguises, his money bag. The bag contained enough to get him to Saloyna, more than enough.

He slipped into the servants’ corridors and out of the palace. No one paid him the slightest attention. He entered an alleyway and left the palace livery behind. He donned the garments of a simple worker. He drew no attention as he made his way to the harbor and found a ship headed for Saloyna. He paid for passage and boarded.

* * *

As he stood at the rail watching Murtaghan, the capital of his homeland, disappear over the horizon, he felt a tug of pain against his heart. He hadn’t lost all capacity to feel as he’d believed. A strong cord connected his heart to his daughter’s, and until he was far enough away from Korthlundia for the cord to snap, his heart would beat in agony. He shrugged off the pain as irrelevant and looked at his hands. Bits of dried blood clung under his fingernails. Removing the blood beneath the nails had always been the most difficult part. He’d once owned a small brush specifically for that purpose. He didn’t remember what had happened to it. He’d need to procure another. He’d lost his way, thought he could reform and be again the stable groom he once was. Now he knew better. He was a killer, and there were men, like Argblutal, who needed killing. He’d find them and rid the world of them.

The Ghost had held many names in his life. The first time he’d sailed away from his homeland, he’d been known by the name his mother had given him. Ahearn had been confined in a small, dark hold, believing he was about to die. He’d been eighteen—a mere child—and completely unprepared for the life he’d found in Saloyna. Fifteen years later he’d returned to Korthlundia as Darhour—so scarred and tainted that no one who’d known Ahearn would have recognized him. Even The Ghost had trouble believing he’d lived the lives of both the simple stable groom and the notorious assassin. Now both men were dead, and The Ghost was nothing but an empty shell.

Holy Sulis, Mother of us all, could Ahearn have taken a path that didn’t leave a pile of corpses in his wake? Or was the choice taken from him when a naïve young queen chose him as her lover?

If you liked what you read, the novel is now available for pre-order. Autographed copies can be purchased via PayPal through my website for the special pre-order price of $13. Click the link below:

Website for pre-order

Or if you prefer Kindle, click below:

The Ghost in Exile scheduled for release on November 25

I just submitted the final manuscript for The Ghost in Exile. It is done, done, done! It will be released on November 25, the day after Thanksgiving. Until then, autographed copies are still available from my website at the special pre-order price of $13: http://jamie-marchant.com/ghost.htm. If you're local and want one, you can send me a message instead because you will not need to pay the postage. If you prefer Kindle, it is available for pre-order on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ghost-Exile-Korthlundian-Kronicle-ebook/dp/B01LYXXQJA/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8. Autographed copies of all my other books, can be ordered from my website as well. If you know anyone who likes to read, books make great Christmas presents.

Blurb: The Ghost is going to hell. Not even the goddess can forgive his sins: assassin, oath-breaker, traitor (an affair with the queen earned him that title). No one can ever learn the princess is his daughter. To keep this secret, he flees to the land that turned him from a simple stable groom into an infamous killer.

His mission now? To find evildoers and take them to hell with him. But when an impulsive act of heroism saddles him with a damsel who refuses to be distressed, her resilience forces him to questions why he really ran from his daughter.

The Goddess's Choice audio: Chapter 7

This week Samantha is courted by the prince of Saloyna, causing Darhour to reveal more about his past. Listen up, and tell me what you think.

Hangin With Interview

Here is an interview I did at Necrocomicon. Check it out and tell me what you think.

Five Tips for Writing Dialogue

I'm breaking from my series about character development to talk about writing dialogue because something I was reading yesterday slammed me in the face with how clumsily beginning writers are with dialogue.

 Tip #1: Know how to punctuate

Proper punctuation is so important because it is essentially invisible to the reader. They don't notice it. Mistakes, however, will people the reader out of the story. Since little that is written for school contains dialogue, very people seem to know how to punctuate it correctly. I'm not going to go around dialogue punctuation rules here because on the site linked below, someone else has already spelled it out clearly. If you are unsure of your punctuation, please review the site. Anything the pulls your reader out of the story weakens your work and makes it that much more like they will throw it aside and pick up something new.

Proper Dialogue Punctuation

Tip #2: Avoid substitutes for "said."

Like proper punctuation, "said" is practically invisible to the reader. Other words to indicate dialogue draw more attention to themselves. If you are going to use a tag other than "said," make sure you have a good reason for doing so and the word you choose comments on how the dialogue was said, such as "whispered" or "shouted." Never use tags other than "said" simply for variety. Words like "added," "announced," "stated," "claimed," etc. draw attention to themselves, and you want to the reader to play attention to your story, not your tags.

Tip #3: Tags can sometimes be left out

While you never want it to be unclear who is speaking, when you have a dialogue between two people, you can tag at the beginning and then simply starting a new paragraph to change speakers will let your reader know who is talking. However, if the dialogue goes on for awhile, you will want occasional tags so that your reader doesn't get lost. Read the following bit of dialogue from The Ghost in Exile:

The Ghost grunted, “Do you have a job for me?”

Zotico’s eyes gleamed. “Do I ever! I’d nearly despaired of finding a capable assassin, but your fortunate arrival proves that Ares will never fail those who serve his name.”

“Who do you want dead?”

“I think it would be best explained by the one in need of Ares’s assistance, but I assure you it is your sort of kill. May I tell the client you’ll meet?”

The Ghost nodded.

Because the speakers were established in the first two lines of dialogue, I don't need tags in the second two lines to make the speaker clear. Pages and pages of this type of dialogue becomes tedious, but sometimes leaving out a tag is good thing.

Tip #4: Indicate speaker with actions rather than tags

Rather than using tags all of the time to indicate speaker, you can include the dialogue in a paragraph where the characters does something. Examine the following dialogue, also from The Ghost in Exile:

Passing an alley, he heard a commotion. He turned to see a young woman pleading with two men. “Don’t make me go with him,” she begged. “He hurts me.” The Ghost recoiled when he heard her Massossinan accent. He hated Massossinans.

The first man slapped her across the face, and The Ghost saw the iron slave collar around the woman’s neck. Her red hair confirmed her nationality. She wore a low-cut, red bodice trimmed with black lace and an extremely short red skirt. She had to be freezing in this weather. “You’ll do as you’re told and like it, or . . .” He drew a knife and ran it across her right breast, drawing a thin line of blood.

The second man grabbed the woman. “You know you like it rough.” He too drew a knife. “Maybe I’ll slice you open when I’m through with you.”

“That will cost you extra,” the first man warned.

The second man shrugged. “I’m good for it."

He imagined his daughter being similarly assaulted. He stepped into the alley. “Let her go.”

The man pulled the woman closer to him. “You can have a turn when I’m done with her.” He grabbed the woman’s breast, and she tried to squirm away. She looked older than he’d thought at first, nearly thirty—old for a whore. Most didn’t live that long.

The Ghost drew his sword and stepped forward. “I said let her go.”

The woman’s master stepped between The Ghost and the other man. “Mister, you have no right to interfere with lawful commerce. She’s mine, and I’ll do with her as I see fit.”

“Not tonight you won't. Move aside.”

It must have been too dark for the man to see the menace in The Ghost’s eyes. Few men dared stand up to him after they’d gotten a good look at the coldness he held there. The slave owner, however, crossed his arms. “Go away.”

You will notice that some of the lines of dialogue are tagged, but many of them simply tell what the character did, such as "grabbed the woman" or "drew his sword." Using action rather than tags creates a more dynamic scene. People generally don't talk in a vacuum. They do something while they are talking.

Tip #5: Use variety (to a point)

Using different ways to indicate the speaker can keep a scene more lively, but getting too creative about tagging calls attention to it. Make sure you have good reasons for what you do in tagging, and don't simply try to be clever. The reader will notice if you do and won't thank you for it.

Keep the above in mind, but remember the only absolute rule in writing is "Does it work?" If it works, a piece of writing can break every rule in the book. Of course, whether or not something works is subjective, so it is better to learn the rules of good writing and only break them when you have a good reason for doing so.

D. Lieber, after the apocalypse

Today, meet D. Lieber, a creator of post-apocalyptic worlds.

D. writes stories she wants to read. Her love of the worlds of fiction led her to earn a Bachelor’s in English from Wright State University. When she isn’t reading or writing, she’s probably hiking, crafting, watching anime, Korean television or old movies. She may also be getting her geek on while planning her next steampunk cosplay with friends.She lives in Wisconsin with her husband (John), retired guide dog (Samwise) and cat (Yin). 

Interview

1. What are you reading at the moment? Would you recommend it to readers of this blog? Why?

I’m reading Only Yesterday: An Informal History of the 1920s by Frederick Lewis Allen. It’s research for the story I am working on. I would recommend it to anyone who wants to learn about the 1920s from someone who lived through it. It’s pretty unique because it was published in 1931, so readers get a view of what it was like after WWI and though the ‘20s without the subject being overshadowed by WWII. It’s also great for people who love history but hate reading history books. The author does an awesome job of making the subject easily consumable.

2. Tell us something about how you write? i.e. are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you have any weird or necessary writing habits or rituals?

I usually wait for ideas to come to me. I know when an idea is ready to be pursued when I can think of at least ten plot points. Sometimes, an idea is ready, but my characters aren’t prepared to go on their journeys. When I do start writing, I always write everything out by hand first. I use a leather journal my Dad gave me. It has an inscription on the front that reads “Hakuna Matata,” which is what my Dad always tells me when I am stressing out. After I have written a chapter, I type it, editing as I go. Then, I read the chapter again and edit more. After which, I beg my husband to read it and edit it. When all of my chapters are finished, typed and proofread, I reread the entire manuscript and edit some more. That’s usually when I’m ready for beta readers. 

3. Could you tell us a bit about Conjuring Zephyr?

Conjuring Zephyr is about a post-apocalyptic world where men are considered far superior in their magical abilities than women. It is believed that of the four elements, only fire can be created. Kai is a young woman who is determined to prove air can also be created and women are capable of higher forms of magic. Instead of going to the finishing school where her parents sent her, she disguises herself as a boy and goes to the best all-male university. She is convinced she can keep her femininity under wraps, but discovers it isn’t as easy as she thought. While she may look boyish and ride the assumption that no woman could ever get into the school, her empathetic personality draws her schoolmates to her and makes the situation more complicated. On top of everything, her sexuality begins to awaken when surrounded by men in a comfortable environment. She makes friends, wins hearts, and chases her goal.

4. Of all the characters you have created, which is your favorite and why?

Asking this is a little like asking whom your favorite child, or in my case furbaby, is. It’s way too difficult to decide. I love each of my characters for their individual personalities. I love Kai because she is driven but doesn’t let that shadow her compassion. I love Flynn because he is fun and spontaneous, and I wish I could be more like that. I love Reid because of his hidden depths. I love Leif because…actually Leif is just adorable all the way around. I love Ryn because he will do anything for love. I love Des because he needs love the most. Finally, I love Dane because he is the only one who maintains propriety, even though it brings him tragedy.

5. What is the biggest surprise that you experienced after becoming a writer?

The mood swings. Before I embraced writing, I was usually a happy person. When I am working on a story, I really beat myself up, though I beat myself up more when I am not writing. I will write a chapter and feel great about it, but the next day I will think it is the worst thing I have ever written. There are so many famous artists who struggle with depression or succumb to it. It makes me wonder if creative people are prone to being depressed or if the act of creating makes people depressed. On the other hand when I finish a book, I feel amazing. It’s like no other joy I have ever experienced.

6. What is your favorite writing tip or quote?

“Write the stories you want to read but haven’t been written yet.” This advice was given during an author panel at C2E2. It’s what really inspired me to finally write a long story.

7. Tell us a little about your plans for the future.  Do you have any other books in the works?

I will continue writing for as long as the muses bless me with ideas. My second novel is ready to go. I am just deciding which avenue is the best for publication. It’s a steampunk fantasy romance with faeries, pirates, traveling players and airships. My third novel is in the final stages of editing, but so far my beta readers say it’s their favorite. It’s a fantasy romance with faeries and werewolves where vampires are truly bad news. I don’t want to give too much away, but join my mailing list on my website or follow me on Facebook and Google+ for future news.

Where can we find you online? (please cut and paste links):

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Conjuring Zephyr

Retreating underground to escape a devastating ice age, humans build a new society. When magic is

discovered and harnessed for survival, the citizens of Terrenus establish theories and principles of how to use it.

Kai Stephenson is determined to prove magical principles aren’t set in stone. Having lost her younger brother in a tragic accident, she will ensure such accidents never harm anyone else. She enrolls at the most elite university to gain the knowledge she needs to achieve her goal. Overconfident that living as a boy at an all-boys university will only be a minor inconvenience, Kai is convinced her classmates will never discover that she’s a woman. After all, women aren’t capable of higher forms of magic, and her boyish figure certainly doesn’t hurt her disguise.

Hiding her true identity becomes a problem when her new friends start to awaken her repressed sexuality.

Excerpt

Eventually, I had to do laundry. I went late at night when no one else was likely to be there. There were various types of washing and drying machines in the laundry room. Some washing machines were for water users, while nonwater users had to wash their clothes by hand. There were also drying machines for air users and fire users, while others had to use the manual drying machines.

I was able to wash all of my clothes and load them into the air-drying machine without incident. The air-drying machine was like a closet with vents on both sides and a vat to catch the water at the bottom. The clothes are hung inside, and the air user pushes air through the vents to dry the clothes.

I opened the door to check how dry my clothes were. I still wasn’t that great at creating a strong wind. Maybe I should use the manual drying machine. Just as I was unloading my wet clothes from the air-drying machine, Ryn walked into the laundry room.

Panic stuck in my throat as I stared in horror at the pair of women’s underwear on the top of my pile of clothes. I snatched them and balled them into my fist.

“Oh, hey, Ryn. You are here pretty late.”

His face flushed as he recognized me. “I always come here at this time.”

I quickly loaded my clothes into the manual drying machine as he put his clothes in the water users’ washing machine. I started to turn the crank that would dry my clothes, facing him as he began manipulating the water in the machine.

He stood, eyes closed, moving his arms in a fluid circular motion. The beauty of his movements captivated me. His body was strong and flexible like a river that could wear down layers of unmovable stone.

I didn’t realize I had stopped cranking until he opened his eyes to unload the washer. His dark eyes found mine without error. They stared at me with an intensity that I didn’t mentally comprehend, but my body reacted like it knew. My stomach dropped, and my limbs tensed. I looked away and used the tension in my body to crank the machine in earnest.

Peeking up at Ryn, I saw his shoulders were tense, and his jaw clenched as he brought his wet clothes to a dryer close to mine. I reached into the dryer and realized my clothes were finally dry. Walking a few steps to grab my basket, I didn’t know the floor was wet by Ryn’s dryer. As my feet slid out from under me, I prepared myself for impact.

Ryn quickly hooked my torso with his strong arm and clutched me to his chest.

I let out the breath I had been holding and looked up into his deep brown eyes, which were inches from mine. I opened my mouth to thank him, but my voice didn’t come out. The intense look he had given me minutes before was nothing compared to the one he wore at that moment.

My whole body flushed. His intensity was soon smothered by embarrassment. Silently, he steadied me on my feet and went back to cranking the drying machine.

Hollowly, I retrieved my clothes and wished him goodnight.

I'd love to hear what you think of these weekly author spotlights. Leave a comment. If you like what you've read, Conjuring Zephyr can be purchased below.