My Soul is CryingK.N. Lee

My soul is crying

Weeping

Wailing

For my heart is ill

Broken

Ailing

The pillow is soaked

With salty tears

My heart is swollen

With poison

My cries echo

And fill my ears

A lonely walk

May clear my head

Maybe I'll forget

The empty house

And empty bed

Butterflies swirl

Like splotches of colored hope

Fresh air fills my lungs

I force my feet forward

And desperately try to cope

A garden awaits

One of calm

And beauty

A low hum

And a swift breeze

As a fragrant perfume

Floats through the trees

Falling

Floating

To my knees

I clasp hands in prayer

Beg for release

I fall back

Into a bed of red roses

The vines wrap themselves

Around my limbs

The thorns sting

And cut my face

Like knives

I bleed

And I smile

Sing sweet songs

In painful bliss

Though bleeding and broken

It doesn't compare to such pain

As this...

I love chocolate and I love books. Let's see if we can pair them like a nice steak dinner and a full bodied cabernet.

This won't be dif f icult at all.

Pairings:

The Chronicles of Koa: Netherworld by. K.N. Lee

Hey...no one said I couldn't do a litt le shameless self-promotion! Besides, Koa literally compares blood to chocolate when she's feasting on her hot American pet, Ian. Perfect. Don't you think? So with that said, I compare Netherworld with a yummy milk chocolate fondue. Because that's what blood tastes like...right?

Mistborn: The Final Empire by, Brandon Sanderson

Mistborn is one of my favorite books. So it goes well with one of my favorite sweets. Set in a world that is covered in mist and soot, you become attached to the incredible characters and their struggle to usurp a horrible tyrant and save the slave class from eternal strife. I pair Mistborn with dark chocolate, because it can be bitter at t imes, but so sweet in the end!

Chocolate & BooksK.N. Lee

Stone of Tears by, Tetty Goodkind

Another one of my absolute favorite books. I discovered this as a child and have been hooked on his excellent writ ings ever since. Stone of Tears is actually the second book in his Sword of Truth series, but it is the f irst that I found and read. So I'd say it was my introduction to his series...sounds like a Kit Kat bar. Ha! Kit Kat bars were my f irst taste of chocolate. Mmmmm, chocolate.

The Witching Hour by, Anne Rice

Here is one of the creepiest books I've ever read. Well, I was a child when I read it, and it might not be that creepy now. I may go back and read it again. Why? Because it 's incredible. The tit le says it all. Witches, magic, characters that you fear for.

What else could you ask for?

Oh! I know! A delicious chocolate froyo. That's frozen yogurt if you didn't know. It 's cold and delicious. And The Witching Hour will leave your bones chilled and goosebumps all over your tender f lesh.

Pride and Prejudice by, Jane Austen

Mr. Darcy (in my mind) is one of the hottest Brit ish f ictional characters...after Halston from The Chronicles of Koa of course. So, he gets paired with delicious hot

What a Pair ing!George Martin

Emily Dickenson Complete Collection

There is something absolutely magical about Emily. I tell you, I look at her portrait and feel l ike I know her. How could I know her? Look inside the pages of this book and you will become familiar with my favorite poet. Her words are like spells that put a hex on your heart and incite incredible emotions.

I love her.

I love her work.

Therefore I pair her with my favorite chocolate; yummy Dove chocolate.

More on K.N. Lee on www.knlee.com

Chocolate Pair ings

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing.

The first time I was declared dead, I lost my past. The second time, I lost my humanity. Now I?m being hunted, and if I die again, my soul is up for forfeit.

After enrolling in Peel Academy, an elite supernatural boarding school on the Brit ish Isles, the last of the sirens, Gabrielle Fiori, only wants to f it in. Instead, the elixir meant to awaken her supernatural abilit ies kil ls her. Available on Amazon

The Unear thlyLaura Thalassa

Now available for pre-release, Sassy Aphrodite and her Sweet, Dirty Mouth, the follow-up to Blurred Lines: the Ent ire Col lect ion,

?I cheated on my boyfriend. Am I sorry? Not one bit. Every moment I spent with the beautiful Navy seaman I call Adonis was worth it. Am I riddled with guilt? Without a doubt. I have to say, though, it was the kick in the pants I needed to change my life. But now I have to go home and face the f ire, and it 's going to be a hot one.?

Sassy Aphrodite and her

Sweet Dir ty Mouth Calinda B.

Where there is dark, there is l ight . The two halves make a whole? Or do they constant ly bat t le for dominance?

Kenna Julius is your average teenage girl. She has a bossy mom, a new boyfriend in school, and she never dreams of enchanted lands or fairytale castles.

Blood Tree: Par t OneScarlett Dawn

The Chal lenge:

Your writing challenge is to write a short story, less than 2000 words about a large stone door that appeared in your backyard one night!

Resul t :

A Doorway, of Stone - by C.G.Ayl ing

I can?t recal l why I looked out the kitchen window, just that I did. A single glance, or was it a wind?s whisper which cost me my mortal l i fe? ?  I real ly can?t recal l .

That story began, or perhaps I should say ended, with a puzzled f rown as the ful l moon?s bri l l iant l ight drew my bored eye. Fast moving, irregular shapes f l i t ted across the backyard, the shadows of clouds driven before a brisk, murmuring wind.  A start led, wide-eyed bl ink as my eyes watched a shadow?s shif t ing form sprint across the lawn toward me.  I stepped backwards so fast a splash of coke spil led f rom the can I?d just popped open.

Coke? the memory?s name conjured a gush of sal iva.

I digress.

Yes, they?re coming back now ? memories long

Write Like a WizardCreated by, Kenya Moore

Af ter my init ial f right , bravado goaded me to venture outside. Was I st i l l a child ? that imaginat ion could t ransform simple lunar shadows into monsters?  Was I a fool , that I thought a ful l moon?s shadows could be anything else?  How l i t t le I knew.

Hours of sol i tude, hunched over a computer, had lef t me thirsty, blurry eyed, and cramped. I could use a walk in the f resh air ? nothing l ike stepping outdoors in a gated community to prove your bravery.

Moon, do your damnedest  ? I won?t be cowed by your conjured shadows!

A breath and a gulp of coke, fol lowed by another gush of sal iva at coke?s remembered taste.

Put t ing the can down, I stepped outside to look up at the biggest moon I?d ever seen. It was enormous, with l ight so bright i t seemed blue.  As ant icipated hundreds of smal l , irregularly shaped clouds drif ted toward me across a starl i t sky.  For a minute I gazed upward, barely breathing as my jaded eyes took in a sight more splendid than any computer graphic.  As a part icularly dense shadow approached, I lowered my eyes to the empty yard and watched it take l i fe and charge toward me.

I smiled, then f roze. In i ts wake, a new shadow formed, even-sided and square ? yet there was nothing there!  Frant ic eyes leapt to the moon ? no clouds between her and me.  Reluctant eyes dropped, ant icipat ing another t rick of lunar l ight .

Writing Chal lengeCompleted by, C.G. Ayling

No such luck.

An even sided, oblong shadow lay hunkered on the lawn. Simple words, for a simple phenomenon ? somehow rendered f rightening by my subconscious.  Shaking my head and bl inking my eyes did nothing ? it remained stat ionary, and so sol id that for an instant I managed to convince mysel f i t must be a f reshly dug hole.  During the last condominium associat ion meet ing there had been talk of a new swimming pool ? but why would they place it on my lawn, behind my unit , instead of in the central , shared community area?

Face f lushing in embarrassment at my overzealous imaginat ion, I mut tered, ?Too many videos? jumping at shadows.? My words leant me false courage.  With a snort of bravado, I stepped onto the lawn and st rode toward the shape.  It became more menacing with my approach ? each step slower than the last , as my mind st ruggled to explain the inexpl icable.  A furt ive glance at the moon revealed a sky now ominously clear of clouds.

About ten paces away, unwil l ing legs refusing to carry me closer, I stopped. A mistake ? the rapid thudding of my heartbeat couldn?t be dismissed as echoes of my footsteps on the sof t lawn.  Squint ing, I leant forward and peered into the shadow, ?It?s got to be a hole for the new swimming pool? idiot contractors probably thought this was the central area.?

A f irm nod leant me convict ion I lacked. Murmuring, ?Get a grip? ?  I took single step forward and stopped ? once more unable to move.  I glared into the darkness, wondering how I could have been so stupid as to not bring a f lashl ight with me.  As I contemplated my fool ishness, I not iced a minute movement on the ground ? almost impercept ibly, the darkness moved toward me.  It had to be a shadow, but a shadow cast by what?  My eye t raced a st raight

l ine f rom the moving edge up to the moon, which rode through the heavens with majest ic ease.

A few hesitant steps carried me to the very edge of the impenetrable black. With the toe of my lef t shoe less than an inch f rom it , I glared down ? pursed l ips and narrowed eyes daring it to touch me.  A few seconds gl iding mot ion, and it did.  Though my f lesh crawled, I refused to jump back.

I watched, and fel t the darkness creep over my foot .

A cold, tangible thing that served to convince me I dreamt ? when were shadows t ruly f rigid? Granted comfort ing courage by this thought , I stepped into the shade and heard the crunching of f rozen grass beneath my shoes.  My legs protested as bit ter cold swept over them in perfect synchronizat ion with the shadow.  It fel t l ike stepping into a river in the middle of winter ? unbearably cold, even in a dream.

Shivering ? no, shaking f rom the bit ter ice, I stepped backward out of the darkness before glancing down at my shoes, which I expected to f ind coated with ice. As the shadow?s cold clasp released me, warm blood f looded my f rozen feet , t ingl ing as if surging into l imbs numb for long immobil i ty.

?Weird dream? ?

Determined to make the most of the st rangeness, I turned right , f ixed my eyes st raight ahead, and took six brisk steps ? paral lel to the shadows perfect edge. The last two st rides took me beyond the darkness.  Af ter taking a deep breath through my nose, I turned to face the shadow and gasped as my jaw dropped.  Only a smal l port ion of the darkness remained visible ? a sl iver seen past a massive wal l of stone, towering high.  Af ter bl inking twice, and f inding the wal l st i l l towering over me, I shook my head, turned, and backtracked six paces ? the precise number of steps I had taken me to escape the

shadow.

This t ime I turned slowly, eyes narrowing as I once again looked at nothing ? f rom this side, the shadow had no source. More than that , there was no indicat ion anything stood at the darkness edge ? the bright moonl ight let me see lawn beyond its boundary.  No shimmer, no distort ion ? I?d have sworn on my grave there was simply nothing there.

A poor choice of words?

I ret raced my six paces, slowly, head turned to the side to catch f irst sign of the towering wal l . As I began the f i f th pace, I f roze ? each eye considering two separate and irreconcilable images.  My right beheld the sol id stone, cl imbing high.  My lef t ? empt iness, and lawn. 

I t i t led my head lef t .

At some point , the stones forming the wal l simply vanished. No l ine, no edge, no depth ? simply there? then not .

Slowly, I t i l ted my head toward the right . Where was nothingness, now was stone, perceived f irst with my right eye while my lef t denied, then joint ly ? both eyes t ricked by this i l lusion.

Reaching forth a hand, to conf irm the impossibi l i ty of sol id stone that was not , I hesitated? then drew my hand back and instead took the two remaining steps to hal t in the exact spot where this st range dream had already cl imaxed. Head shaking in mute denial , I turned at last ? to stare again at sol id stone.

It seemed so real?

Beneath the moon?s bright l ight , I noted the perfect f i t of each stone to those above, beneath, and to each side. Nowhere was mortar, yet also no gaps to my narrowed gaze.  Eyes scanning the sol id seeming surface, I took several long paces to reach the midpoint of the wal l .  It was as wide as it stood tal l ? perhaps wider.  St i l l two paces away, I stopped and turned to face it square.

I gaped in mute si lence, heart beat ing fast . Eyes ful ly accustomed to the moon?s l ight , I stared for a long while, the absolute st i l l broken only by the ragged, irregular thumping of my heart .  My narrowed eyes not iced a huge doorway set into the wal l?s middle.

How did I recognize it as a doorway? There was no handle, and no hinge, neither f rame, nor recess.  Yet somehow, I knew ? within this wal l , stood a door.  The only purpose for the monstrous wal l was holding this massive door.

Reconciled to the dream, I reached out , ant icipat ing a bit ter bite of cold. My f ingert ips barely touched the wal l before I snatched them back.  The texture fel t grit ty, as stone should, but warm ? as though baked beneath a hot , noonday sun.  Sheepish, I reached out and placed the palm of my right hand f lat on the part of the wal l I knew to be a doorway.  It fel t sol id, ut terly immovable beneath my hand.  

Exhal ing abrupt ly through my nose, in semblance of a derisory snort , I pressed.

Nothing happened.

The doorway remained sealed, immovable beneath my puny, tentat ive pressure, ?It?s just a dream? ? I leant into the stone, placed my lef t palm alongside my right , set my feet into the lawn, and heaved against wal l ? certain I could not possibly move the enormous door.  A few seconds of ef fort , and I relaxed, secure in the knowledge it would not budge.

Goaded by feel ings of dream-induced inadequacy, I shif ted a pace to the lef t and pressed again, this t ime with only my lef t hand upon the door?s lef t edge. The stone doorway swung open ? soundless and smooth, on hinges unseen.  Natural ly, the instant I fel t movement beneath my hand, I snatched it away, ready to f lee before the nightmare taking shape.

Beyond the doorway lay only darkness, as deep as the pit I had earl ier imagined. The stone door cont inued its smooth soundless passage, vanishing soundlessly behind the wal l .  It disappeared before I thought to note its thickness.  With that quest ion foremost in my mind, I leaned forward, taking care not to lean into the gap lef t by the door?s absence.  Here, the stone had depth ? closer to two feet than one.

Only in a dream could I hope to move such a massive weight?

Reassured by this thought , I stepped into the doorway, reaching out a hand hesitant in ant icipat ion of the darkness?s bit ing cold. Discerning no discomfort my f ingert ips pressed on, into the shade.  Emboldened, I let f irst my hand, then my forearm sl ide further in.

Without warning, a steely hand grabbed my wrist and jerked me bodily forward. Overbalanced, I stumbled, an unborn scream leaping up my fear-clenched throat .  The sight of my mirror image jerking me inside the stone room start led me into si lence.

Even as I staggered in, I stepped out , face grim. My voice came f rom the other me, ?Eternity enough, for me.  Bet ter me, than I? ?

Mind numb with shock, completely overbalanced by the unrelent ing wrench on my wrist , I lurched past mysel f in ungainly ef fort to keep my feel . The iron grip on my wrist released, let t ing me fal l face forward onto f irm packed sand.  Behind me came a whoosh, fol lowed by a dul l thud as shadow enveloped me.  Though there was no need to turn and look, I couldn?t stop mysel f ? the bright moonl ight had vanished, leaving only dim darkness in i ts wake.

Rol l ing onto my back, I sat up, peered toward where the stone doorway stood, pinched my arm, and murmured, ?Time to wake up? ?

From somewhere behind me a low moan raised my hackles. In the instant i t took me to leap to my feet and turn toward the sound, goose f lesh covered my ent ire body.

This, was no dream.

<<<-0->>>

Author?s note. My thanks to K.N.Lee, for challenging me to experiment with something outside my norm.  Would you like to see where this particular tale might lead?  I hope

you?ve enjoyed it, and are tempted to taste other of my work.  Message me on Twitter @CGAyling, or visit my website

http:/ /cgayling.com to find out more.

The Five Warr iors

Release Par tyJoin The Book Nymph PR and author, Angela Ford for

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What if ... your best friend started a rebellion in the middle of a war? Your lover awakened a deep evil

and helped it grow? Your people were too cowardly to face a battle? You stole an ancient power source?

You gambled with the fate of the world?

***Prize List***Prize 1: $10 Starbucks Gift Card

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"LOREM IPSUM DOLOR SIT AMET, CONSETETUR SADIPSCING ELITR, S TEMPOR

INVIDUNT UT LABORM VOLUPTUA."

Di ne

1.What is your favorite movie?

Well, I can tell you three of my favorite movies: 1982's The Thing, 1986's Aliens and 1997's Event Horizon.

2. If you could impersonate one person in all of history for one day, who would it be?

Caligvla (Caligula) so I could experience Ancient Rome and all of it 's ancient perks.

3. What are your hobbies?

Walking in the forests or in the rain, shooting real guns and playing electric guitar.

4. What would your last meal be?

It would be a large Pepperoni Pizza.

5. Name one thing you cannot live without!

A computer with an internet connection.

Quick Fire with Rober t Fr iedr ichKenya Moore

-Bobby Flay

"My target audience are the smart girls on Tumblr, Reddit, AO3, FanFiction.net and Wattpad. This is my

manifesto/ love letter to them, to tell them that they are amazing, have magic inside themselves, and to j ust hang

in there because you do grow up and can get out eventually."

A Chat wi th

the Author of Downcast

Where are you from?

I was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana ? a nice Midwestern girl who f led to the East Coast f irst chance she got. LOL. I never quite f it in because I was so dif ferent from everyone else, with my father from India and my mother from Croatia. I ended up having a much more European upbringing at home, though when I see the cornf ields and big sky of Indiana f ields, my heart stil l skips a beat.

When did you start writing?

It?s not so much that I started writ ing. It?s that I have always been tell ing stories. Mom tells me that even as a toddler, I would string together stories about the birds and the chipmunks that l ived in our yard. I would make her write down everything I said, and then I would ?il lustrate.? Of course, by il lustrate, I mean produce high concept abstract, post-modern art the way only a three year-old can.

An Interview with Cait ReynoldsKenya Cooper-Moore

Cait Reynolds

-Cait Reynolds

Facebook: ht tps:/ / facebook.com/cait reynolds

I wrote my f irst poem when I was four, won my f irst writ ing contest at 11, got a personal letter of encouragement from Meredith Charpentier of Will iam Morrow at 12, and basically never looked back. How did you come up with the tit le for Downcast?

Actually, I didn?t! It was my friend Britt Behm who came up with it. Britt has been my crit partner, cheerleader, whip-wielder, and mind-reader for more than ten years now, and she knows my writ ing better than anyone else. She knows what I?m trying to say even when I don?t.

I had some awful t it le l ike ?Underworld Queen? as a placeholder, and I was complaining to her about how I am horrible at coming up with tit les. And, boom! She comes up with Downcast. So, naturally, when it was time to name the series, I went to her again, and yes, she came up with the name Olympus Falling.

What is Downcast about?

Well, there?s the off icial blurb, and then there?s the real heart of what Downcast is about. What you have is a story about the transformative power of love. It?s about how loving yourself can give you the strength to make yourself and others happy, to be open to love, and to change the world around you. You also have a story about what it?s really l ike to be unpopular in high school. It?s not always about the obvious insults and bullying. What really wears you down is the indif ference, the sense of being invisible and worthless, and the thousand pointless, pointed litt le mean things that most of the time kids don?t even know they are doing to each other.

Who is your target audience?

My target audience are the smart girls on Tumblr, Reddit, AO3, FanFiction.net and Wattpad. This is my manifesto/ love letter to them, to tell them that they are amazing, have magic inside themselves, and to just hang in there because you do grow up and can get out eventually.

I wish the Internet had existed when I was in junior high school and high school because I would have thrived on knowing there were other girls l ike me out there.

What is the hardest part of writing a book?

There are two parts for me that are the hardest. One is the slog from 40,000-70,000 words. The f irst 40k words are easy. The last 20k words to get to 90k is l ike a roller coaster ride, complete with slightly hysterical laughter and some screaming. But that 40-70k stretch is where I tend to lose steam, get confused, become f il led with self-doubt, and think obsessively about napping.

The other part that is hard is the f irst round of editing. God, I hate that phase. All the stuff that is wrong is just glaring, and I feel l ike face-palming myself every single paragraph. By the second/ f inal round of edits, I?ve reached a point of dull resignation. But the f irst round is kil ler.

Who is your favorite author? Book?

I don?t have a single favorite book or author, but I will read anything by Gill ian Flynn, Tana French, Sarah Waters, and Elizabeth Kostova. I?ll also read anything by Junichiro Tanizaki and P.G. Wodehouse. What can I say? I l ike it eclectic. What was your road to publication like?

For Downcast, it was absolutely torturous. I started writ ing it in October 2010, and it was published in May 2015. I went through four drafts even before submitting the f irst draft to Booktrope. Life kept getting in the way ? moving, jobs, deaths in the family, my own health issues. It wasn?t until I decided in January of 2013 to give myself one year to make a go of it as a full-t ime author to see if I could do it. And while it took two years to get Downcast published, it really has been worth it.

Thankfully, things look to be a litt le more straightforward for the sequel, Thunderstruck, even if I am starting

on the second draft right now LOL!

Do you have any advice for other up and coming authors?

Definitely!

1.     Do not give up. Ever.

2.     Do not get distracted by the shiny new thing. Stick with one story until you reach ?The End.?

3.     Practice your writ ing by getting crit partners and feed back, and posting to sites like Wattpad and other fanf iction sites.

4.    Read above your pay grade. Read the writers you want to be like. Consider it the only homework you ever really enjoyed.

5.     Don?t edit yourself to death. That?s what editors are for. Do your best, then let it go.

6.     Speaking of editors, you can?t get one until you submit for publication. What?s the worst that happens? One publisher says no? Fine. Try another. It?s nothing personal, and nothing to do with the quality of your writ ing. Just keep going. But, you?ll never publish unless you take the risk of sending your stuff out.

Anything you want to say to your fans?

Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you (kind of l ike that Natalie Merchant song). Just thank you so much for giving me a chance and liking my book!

What?s next for Cait Reynolds?

Well, we have two more books in the Olympus Falling series, then I have a three-book romantic comedy/chick lit series planned, and after that, well, I get to take my pick of the 20 other book ideas that are patiently waiting on my to-do list.

Connect with Cait on Twitter @caitreynolds

Quick Fi re Round

Coffee of tea? Coffee with creamer or espresso with two sugars. If you could live anywhere, where would that be? Italy

Which actor would you choose to play the main character in Downcast? Oh, I?m horrible at this! I never can think of an actor or actress L

Would you rather cook every night or go out to a restaurant? I would much rather cook! I love cooking and much prefer my own food? except when it comes to sushi. Then, I trust the sushi experts, LOL!

Which superpower do you wish you had? I think I?d like to be indestructible and have healing powers like Wolverine. Then, I would go do even more crazy adrenline junkie stuff than I do now. Fear of injury is the only thing that holds me back.

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Available on Amazon

Intimate Moments

Through the entire conversation Tony searched through his memory trying to remember where he had seen Tonju before she caught his eyes at The Lobster House. He was sure he had seen her somewhere before.

It f inally hit him and he remembered, he saw her at Reed, Randall, and Wade. He was at their off ice earlier in the week for a meeting before he came to San Diego. She was the Senior Paralegal giving a presentation in the conference room when he walked by. When he saw her, he thought to himself that she was very professional, very attractive along with sexy. Her cream colored skirt suit with the coffee brown blouse and the matching cream and brown shoes were a compliment to her small shapely frame, and not to mention she had a pair of shapely legs.

Her hair was pulled back into a bun and her makeup was natural and f lawless. He also remembered passing her off ice with the unique name on the door. He wasn?t sure as how to pronounce it, until now. When he saw her at The Lobster House, he had a feeling he had seen her somewhere before but couldn?t remember then either.

A smile formed from corner to corner on his face. ?This could be destiny,? he said to himself . ?Did you say something??

?No, just thinking out loud. Would you care to dance??

The sounds of the music had slowed down and this might have been his opportunity to get the chance to hold Tonju in his arms. The song ?Cherish This Moment? by Kem was being played.

?Sure, that?ll be nice and I can quit swaying in this chair.?

He took Tonju by the hand and led her to the dance f loor. He was able to get a good up close look at her, especially in that dress. He was in full admiration. Taking her in his arms, he held her close to him.

The aroma from her hair and skin made him close his eyes to take her all in.

He had to ask, ?what?s that perfume you?re wearing?? he smelled the scents of Casaba Melon, Plum, and Freesia.

?Pure Seduction by Secrets of Victoria.?

?I love the scent. It smells great on you.?

?Thank you.?

Tony wondered to himself? ?Will this be a well-kept secret tonight?? Holding her close and inhaling her aroma is taking his mind to other places.

?I can?t believe I?m this close to this man. He smells so charming I think he?s wearing a Lauren collection by Ralph. Snif f , snif f , he is, it?s ?Romance Silver.? It smells delightful on him. Goodness, I could stay like this forever.? She said in her mind. His arms hugged her waist

An Exclusive Excerpt from Intimate MomentsJeane Sashi

Intimate MomentsContinued...

with her left arm around his neck; he was holding her right hand their bodies swayed to the music as if they were the only couple on the dance f loor.

Tony?s hand went down her spine and felt the small of her back. He felt the curvature of her back and noticed how perfect she was to him. With him being as tall over her as he was, he could see over her shoulder and noticed her ample bottom. His hand touched where her lower back and ass came together. That must have been a soft spot for her. She squirmed a litt le and giggled.

?Gotcha? he said to himself and lowers his mouth to her ear kissing the top of her right earlobe sending chills down her spine once again.

Tonju then moved her right hand from his hand and placed it on his chest. She could feel his tight chest through his shirt. ?Nice? she said to herself . She moved her hand up and down the left side of his chest. They were stil l swaying to the music both had their eyes closed entranced in the moment. Their legs were between each other?s and their bodies began to grind more and more to the music, it felt as though their bodies had become one right on the dance f loor. Tonju could feel Tony?s erection through his pants and he didn?t seem a bit embarrassed. She moved her body more and more on his erection which caused him to moan a bit. ?Hmm? she said to herself with a smile. They didn?t notice that the music had stopped until Tony was tapped on the shoulder by Robert.

Jeané has been writing since she was in high school. Although she kept diaries, just as any teenage in high school, she didn?t realize her writing potential until she entered and won the Mayor?s Essay Award.  She critiques and edits the writings of fellow authors.  She herself is the author of two novels, ?Intimate Moments? and ?The J Spot?.

Jeané is also a Certified Motivational Life Coach & Speaker ; Certified Book Editor & Freelance Writer; and has a Chocolate Sweet Tooth

          MARY MILLS-MACLAREN (nee Mills) was born in London and was just under 6yrs old at the outbreak of WWII. With her sister Pat, she was evacuated to South Wales and in a few years was able to speak the language as well as her classmates.  Taken back to live in London when the war ended, she soon lost her Welsh lilt, and excelled in the English language.

           In 1963, she immigrated to Australia and began a correspondence course about creative writ ing in 1985.  Her f irst published item that paid, was an article about a newly-built Senior Citizens Centre in Toukley, NSW From then on, her work was accepted by several Australian magazines: Woman?s Day, Women's Weekly, New Idea, Take Five, Weightwatcher?s Magazine, Prime Time etc.

           She also was a member of several writ ing groups and is stil l a strong advocate for the support and encouragement that can be gained from these meetings. One of the topics, Writing Competit ions, saw

her enter and gain awards frequently.

           ?Writing Competit ions are a discipline that teach the importance of handling deadlines, taking notice of the rules and requirements laid out and improving your work,? Mary says.  ?I never cease to be amazed at the number of writers who think it will be 'ok' to ignore the stipulated word count. I have judged many competit ions over the years, and seen quality short stories and poems set aside for exceeding the word count.?

           Since those days, Creative Writing has become part of normal education, and it is most encouraging to see the number of writers that are coming to the fore. Naturally, this has given rise to stronger competit iveness and editors around the world are always on the lookout for an author with that J K Rowling?s 'special edge'.

           Nevertheless, an increasing number of people of all ages and backgrounds, have grown from the- 'how do you become a writer?' question to- 'hey! 'm a writer

 and loving it!?   

           Mary took on the role of writ ing teacher in the early 1990's, then founded one of Queensland's largest writ ing Centres, on the Gold Coast.  Stil l going strongly, with hundreds of members over the last twenty-four years, well-known authors, and experienced tutors are just some of the top-quality lecturers and speakers that attend the Gold Coast Writers Assoc monthly meetings.

           In 2009, she returned to live Hampshire, England to be close to her family and spends her time writ ing or teaching the skil l. She also has an online teaching course and delights in guiding new writers along the path to success.

           Indie publishing has broadened her experience and she is happy to discuss the topic with new writers.

The Challenge:

In 2500 words or less, create a fairy tale!

The Resul t :

Tess, The Daughter of the Dwarves' King

By, Asya Pekurovskaya

There are days when everything crops up as stated by your wishes. The sun sends its gentle rays your way. The buds of cherry tree branches develop into f lowers right before your eyes, and the critters tip off their knitted hats, greeting you with reverence.

           Tim hurried up. Yet on his way he had to shake the paw of Ben, the crocodile, bow Humphrey the cat and catch up with the mouse Bertha, who dropped a velvet purse with blue lapis lazulites.

Writing Chal lenge with, Asya PekurovskayaOriginially published on Writelikeawizard.com

Asya Pekurovskaya

  In his pocket he carried a map of the area. In his backpack there was his favorite, ball- shaped donut f il led with cherry jam.

           From time to time an idea popped up in his head that it would be marvelous to eat that donut right now. But apart from donut, he had nothing to eat. Yet he had a long way to go.

           You probably want to know where he was going.

           But, sad to say, he did not really know that himself . That is, he knew, of course, that he ought to f ind a colossal diamond, which was stored in the underground kingdom of the dwarves.

But he had not the slightest idea of how to get there.

           He thought of the map, to be sure. However... although he had already learned to read and could read long book tit les such as: "Get your spoonful of boon/ "With the f ibs from Medoon,"

he had never had a chance to read a map.

           But things you have never done before, better not to start now, especially if they have an impact on your cherished journey.

           And Tim started to look for a passer-by who had had to deal with the map before.

           ?I should have asked the crocodile Ben. He lives on the lake and promenades in the cherry alley every day. If he did not know how to read a map, he would have already get lost.

           Tim went after the crocodile, mentally, needless to say, and assured himself the crocodile had already made it home and, after putting on his bathing suit, taken a dip freestyle to

the other shore.

           But the time to think about Ben, the crocodile, run out very quickly. Right before Tim?s eyes a butterf ly f luttered in a strange pirouette.

           The butterf ly moved its proboscis, then turned it into a tube and started spinning it l ike a ballerina.

           Tim stared at the butterf ly, forgetting everything, including his backpack in which a donut was waiting for him f il led with cherry jam. And the butterf ly seems to catch sight of him, as

well.

           And here is what happened next.

           Apparently, very tired, the butterf ly?ballerina perched on an open f lower of the cherry tree and stretched her antennas which turned to be delicate arms, in Tim?s direction.

           When the butterf ly?ballerina?s arms reached out to Tim, they gently took his both hands and lif ted off the ground.

           And they f lew, picking up speed.

?But I have absolutely no time for a f l ight. I am not promenading, I am escorting myself ,? said Tim and looked displeased at his companion.

?Why did you decide that I was promenading?? the butterf ly?ballerina replied.

?Yet our ways may not cross,? Tim said and immediately regretted it. After all, he wanted his ways to always cross with the ways of this beautiful butterf ly?ballerina.

           ?Why do they not cross?? the butterf ly corrected him. ?You're Tim, are not you? And if you guess my name, I will help you f ind the underground kingdom of the dwarves, and even show

you the way to the magic diamond that ...?

           ?But how do you know about the magic diamond? This is my very private secret,? interrupted Tim.

           ?Akh, you do not think it straight and loose time,? the butterf ly ballerina said in a melancholy voice.

           But instead of stopping to loose time, that is, instead of guessing the name of his companion, Tim started to carelessly compose a poem about her.

           And here is what he devised:

           To create a butterf ly

           Someone modeled on the sly

           A dynamic f lying shirt

           Trendy pants, TP, for short,

           Borrowed petals, l ight and awesome

           From the most entrancing blossom.

           And to demonstrate her gown,

           Baby circled twice her town:

           Paid a visit to her mates,

           Garbed both chic and up to date.

           Munched her breakfast at the daisies,

           Lunched with indolent and lazy

           Clovers. Then she turned her keel

           To bluebells for an evening meal.

  To complete her trying cruise

           Got prepared for a snooze:

           Funneled her fatigued proboscis,

           Mutely closed her wings, don?t ask us

           Why...

But then something happened, causing Tim to immediately regret his careless distraction.

           His companion had disappeared, and he f lew down rapidly, l ike a stone.

           He certainly got hurt, but not as much so as not to see that he landed downright on a f lower bed, caught between two amazing, utterly exotic plants ...

           ?What a pity the butterf ly?ballerina will not see this beauty!? f lashed through his mind. And when he got up to look more closely at the f lowers, they seem to have bowed their heads

towards him and kept gazing at him in response.

           Once again, Tim reminisced about the butterf ly?ballerina. Only now did he realize that she looked at him the same way as these f lowers, that is, not with her eyes, which he had not even

noticed, but with her entire body.

           Only the entire body of this mysterious plant did not embrace its wings and proboscis like the body of butterf ly?ballerina. All it had were leaves that were looking up, l ike pointed spears,

and petals of pink and lilac color resembling those of a lily.

           As he glued his eyes to the remarkable plant, Tim noticed, in the very convergence of petals, yet another yellow f lower, around which a fence of pistils grew which had all the hallmarks

of a very dark lilac f lower.

           ?I've never seen f lowers with such colorful eyes. But what if these are not f lowers at all, but enchanted dwarves??  Tim guessed. And as soon as he made this guess he noticed a brass plate,

which denoted something in an unknown language.

           ?Who could conceive hanging a sign that can not be read?? Tim said out loud.

But as he expressed his astonishment, he detected a miniature table, on top of which someone dumped .... No, to grasp that was beyond Tim?s fancy. But it was exactly so. The plausible dwarf

seem to have forgotten his ... reading glasses, on the table.

           ?May I...?? Tim asked the dwarf, and, without waiting for an answer, reached for the glasses.

           The plausible owner of the magic glasses dropped no word in reply.

           ?I can see you don?t mind,? Tim said and rushed to put on the glasses. But as soon as he mounted them on his nose, everything transformed around him.

           The sky acquired a pale lilac color, yet the f lowers grew blue and white and started to emit some captivating smells. It even occurred to Tom  that f lattering among the f lowers was a

silhouette of his beautiful butterf ly?ballerina.

           And when he f inally saw the brass plate, he couldn?t believe his eyes. The inscription read: ?Passif lora, the f lower of suffering.?

           ?The f lower of suffering,? Tim repeated like an echo, and the glasses f lew from his nose.?Flowers can not cause suffering. And if there is an enchanted dwarf hiding in a f lower, one

needs to make sure he was no longer there.?

But as soon as Tim pieced together the future fate of the enchanted and the plausible dwarf, a fence began to grow around them. And something was very strange.

           The space inside the fence was arranged in such a way that the bed with the Passif lora f lowers was stretching along the path and turning right, whereas next to the bed there appeared a

new path that curved left and stretched all the way to the summit.

           ?If I do not follow the Passifora f lowers I will avoid suffering,  Tim thought.

           ?Then change your course to the left,?  Tim heard the same voice.

           He looked around. Not a soul was seen on all sides.

           ?How will I climb this huge mountain? Besides, the kingdom of the dwarves is in the dungeon,? Tim replied.

           ?So, you have already made your choice,? the voice continued calmly.

           ?I made no choice. I am at a crossroads. Do not you see?

           An alarming silence fell over them.

           ?Someone is trying me. It could be the glasses that returned from their exile. They must be magical,? Tim thought.

           ?Akh, you do not think it straight and loose time,? the voice warned him.

           ?Somewhere I have heard this warning,? Tim thought. 

           But it was too late. He fell down again, and when he landed, he immediately recognized the area.

           It was impossible not to recognize it. After all, Tim saw himself walking down the road that led from his own home.

           He was in a rush. Yet he had to shake the paw of Ben, the crocodile, bow Humphrey the cat and catch the mouse Bertha, who dropped a velvet purse with blue lapis lazulites.

           And when he fumbled the area map in his pocket and assured himself that his favorite, ball?shaped donut f il led with cherry jam was stil l in his backpack, a very unhappy thought f lashed

in his mind.

?I will never get to the underground kingdom of the dwarves and get a magic diamond. Instead of going forward, I came right back.

           ?But you stil l have one more chance,? Tim heard the familiar voice.

           ?How wonderful it is that magic glasses have not left me,? Tim thought.

           ?If you prepare a new challenge for me, I will l isten, I will waste no time and I will not miss anything. I even will agree to take the path to the left, although climbing a vertical trail is very

dif f icult, almost imposs ...

           ?We?ll check it now,? the glasses interrupted Tim, ?Did you chat with the daughter of the Dwarves? King??

  ?I conversed with the butterf ly?ballerina. Is she the daughter...??

           ?You talked to her, not knowing her name, and did not even try to guess it,? the glasses hurried to continue, ignoring Tim?s question. ?It was not polite and also quite annoying. After all,

f rom your f iguring out her name depended your joint destiny. Now the princess is imprisoned in the tower, and you have lost access to the diamond, which is locked in her casket.?

           ?This is terrible! She needs help!  Promptly! But how could I reveal her name? Names are plentiful, and they are all dif ferent ... Her name is Tess!? Tim blurted.

           If he was told a moment ago that he could effortlessly guess the name of the unknown princess, he would have never believed it.

           ?But who said I really had guessed her name?? f lashed through Tim?s head.

           ?Well, you guessed it right.  Now, there is very litt le you have to do. You will have to liberate the princess and f ind the key to her casket. Remember: the key is placed on the wrong side

of one of the copper mirrors in the Kingdom of dwarves.

For More On Asya Pekurovskaya:

http:/ /www.an-animation.com/

Motherhoodmagic.com

Where are you f rom?

I was born and raised in Saint Petersburg, Russia.

What inspired you to write your f irst book?

My f irst book was a memoir t it led When my Time Came to Chant with S.D. It was a story of my married life in a Russian bohemian gang of late sixties. My leading character was my husband, Sergey Dovlatov, a f ib master and an author of considerable renown in Russia. I was inspired to write the memoir by his untimely death.

Do you write ful l -t ime or part -t ime? How do you balance your writ ing l i fe with your family/work l i fe?

I write full t ime no less than 12 hours a day, and the only way I can balance my family l ife with writ ing is by parting with my husband for about half a year. We happen to live both in the US and Germany.

What jobs have you held that inf luence your stories?

During the f irst decade of my American life I was getting my PhD at Stanford and teaching Literature and literary theories at Reed College. For the second decade I plunged into the world of

An Interview with Asya

Pekurovskaya

Asya Pekurovskaya

commerce. There I managed to secure myself f inancially, thus enabling myself to write obligation free. None of these experiences were admitted to my stories.   

Do you have a specif ic writ ing style?

Although I write both non?fiction and f iction (screen plays, poetry and children stories), I l ike to think I have a specif ic writ ing style. Two things support my belief. I tend to break away from a strict notion of genre and I write in two languages (English and Russian) thus transplanting the oddities of one mode of expression into the other and vice versa.  

How did you come up with the t i t les?

I do not f ind tit le pick is a matter of great signif icance. Books are rarely selected by tit les. Most inf luential authors that come to mind failed to create enticing tit les: Don Quixote by Cervantes, Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, Ulysses by James Joyce, The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald, Inspector General by Nikolaj Gogol, The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. On the other hand, Catch 22, for example, seems to be a formidable tit le yet it kept its author (Joseph Heller) waiting forever before he enjoyed even a moderate success with readers. My tit le, Spark the Stone Man must be a mediocre one although I hope the books are not.

Is there a message in your books that you want readers to grasp?

The only message I would like my readers to grasp, is the one I created for myself : DON?T OPEN NEW WORLDS, OPEN YOUR EYES.

How much of your books are real ist ic?

My books are totally realistic in a sense that their characters (both f ictional and non?fictional) mirror myself . It is me who is both real and non?real, both guileless and guileful.

What books have most inf luenced your l i fe?

There are so many magnif icent authors that affected me one way or another that I am not sure I can give justice to them even in part. Will iam Faulkner, Henri Miller, Andrey Bely, Lawrence Stern, Marcel Proust, Franz Kafka, D.H.Lawrence, Jonathan Frazer, Gary Shteyngart, Neil Gaiman, August Burroughs, are among the few I profoundly enjoyed reading.

If you had to choose, which writer would you consider a mentor?

Nikolaj Gogol (1809-1852).

What book are you reading now?

The Basic Problems of Phenomenology by Martin Heidegger and Three Tales of My Father?s Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett.

Do you see writ ing as a career?

Rather a lifestyle.

If you had to do it al l over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

I perpetually rewrite my books. I do so even after I publish them. In a way, I feel I am more an editor than a content creator.

Do you recal l how your interest in writ ing originated?

That is an embarrassing recollection. As I was surrounded by writers, I once pushed myself into writ ing a story, too. Should I manage to f inish it, it would have been a contrived piece of rubbish. Luckily I was unable to bring it to completion and discarded. And it took me twenty years before I could sit down to write something which I was compelled to write. 

Is there anything you f ind part icularly chal lenging in your writ ing?

Two things: starting a story and f inishing it.

Do you have to t ravel much concerning your book(s)?

I do not leave my desk to create stories thus hoping to mimic the style of Marcel Proust.

What was the hardest part of writ ing your book?

It is easier for me to create enticing scoundrels than enticing stars.

Did you learn anything f rom writ ing your book and what was it?

I learned that negative comments, regardless of how irrelevant they seem to be, can be construed as view points worthy of consideration and positive comments, no matter how unobliging they seem to be, can always be construed as a crit ique and used for further improvement.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

I feel there is no writ ing for fun, as writ ing is a condition which, once it grips you, will never release.

Do you have anything specif ic that you want to say to your readers?

Please, don?t be lax about my writ ing.

What were the chal lenges (research, l i terary, psychological , and logist ical) in bringing it to l i fe?

To get inside some characters? minds.

What do you think about e-publ ishing versus technical publ ishing?

I l ike e?publishing especially because technical publishing tends to create rigid rules that kil l ingenious writ ing.

Do you have an agent or publ isher? How did you go about f inding one?

My books written in Russian were published effortlessly. For publishing my children?s books I created a publishing company, Pekasus, and engaged f ive people in the process. My several attempts to sell translation rights have failed. However, I have not really attempted to do so in a systematic fashion. When all six books are published in a hard cover and e-pub formats and equipped with musical scores and professionally narrated CDs, I will do the marketing full scale.

If you could l ive anywhere, where would it be?

Perhaps, Japan.

If you could have any super power, what would it be?

I want to be able to turn into animals and insects at my whim.

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