December Short Story: The Vagabond Cafe [Sneak A Peek Patrons Only]

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The Vagabond Cafe

The space where the Vagabond Café exists right now used to be the basement apartment at 7 Cornelia Street. Anyone who walks into the café has a hard time figuring out how it could ever have been big enough for a person to live comfortably. Or, at least, confused as to why anyone would agree to pay $7,000 a month for the privilege.

“It’s the West Village,” Brooklynites explain as if they know (since there’s no other way for a Brooklynite to say anything). “What do you expect? Rents are ridiculous and everything is too small.”

It is true that in the West Village rents are ridiculous on tiny apartments, but even at that $7,000 is more than anyone would pay for a studio with half a kitchen and a dubiously safe “bathroom”. Anyone but a musician. And the landlord knew it.

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Section 3 | Chapter 1 (Part 1) – #PyramidsAndPunk [Supporters Only]

The copper scarab sailed over the Nile, flying so fast over the green waters of the delta that boats in its wake dipped and bowed as if pushed by an invisible hand or a strong wind. Atet hummed the machine higher in the air, and Ibi felt the reaction of the soldiers in the cabin. Before, they were awed but fearful, now they were terrified. None of them had ever been up this high, had to look so far to find the horizon–not that most of them were looking. Only Ziwat was enjoying herself, leaning as far out the back of the cabin as she could and still feel safe, calling out every feature on the ground she recognized from above. If Ibi had been in control of her body, she would have laughed.

They followed the path of the water until the delta waters coalesced into the river proper, then turned West toward the Library. As they drew closer there was a change in the vibrations resonating up from the ground to them. Atet opened herself up more so Ibi could begin to understand–the three pyramids of the Library were responding to the song, just as the scarab itself was.

:A taste of what you’re here to learn,: Atet pulsed.

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Hatshepsut temple

Monthly Microfiction – December 2018 [Patrons Only]

Standing Still

In the hour before dawn a chariot climbed through the desert hills toward the Western mountains, the full moon above illuminating the way. The sky was not yet even the barest pink and every star embedded in the body of Nut winked down at the driver and passenger as they broke the night’s silence. They drove past the sealed tombs in the rock, the monuments to past kings, until the beating of the horses’ hooves echoed off the stone of the new monument ahead. Hatshepsut tapped her driver’s shoulder to indicate where they should stop, then squeezed it to keep balance once they did.

“Here, my king?” the driver asked. They were still many feet from the front of the first ramp.

“Yes, I’ll walk the rest of the way,” Hatshepsut said as she climbed down and dusted herself off. “I won’t need to return to the High House until the sun peaks, so you may return to the river to take part in the festival there.”

Even though they’d discussed this before leaving, the driver still looked uncomfortable leaving her king there all alone.

“I’ll be safe. Go.” She said firmly but with a smile.

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November Short Story Sacrifice

November Short Story: Sacrifice [Sneak A Peek Patrons Only]

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Sacrifice

The kitchen was George’s favorite room. It was here that he felt the difference between his old life and his new one the most. In essentials, the house in Illyria wasn’t that different from the one he and his wife had sold before moving here. Two bedrooms, two and a half baths, living room, dining room, rec room, basement. But the kitchen had the majority of the major appliances, all Illyrian-made, humming with puissance. The fridge that held food in suspended animation so it never went bad, no matter how long you left it in; the oven that brought food to the exact right temperature faster than a microwave; the dishwasher that used no water or soap yet produced clean dishes in under two minutes and made their pots and pans look like new again.

Despite this, George stood at the sink with a sponge soaked in soapy water, meticulously removing the detritus of his breakfast from his plate. Outside the window was his front yard, and just beyond that was a small gathering of reporters. When he first came into the kitchen he saw them and they saw him. They knew better than to try and approach the window — the guard grass was already agitated, having them so close. George tried not to show any of the anger and annoyance he felt. He wouldn’t back down or hide away, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. So he washed the dishes by hand. And hated every second of it.

Patrons on the Sneak A Peek level, click here to read the whole story (you’ll need the password). Not a patron yet? You can read the rest of this piece and all the ones that came before by becoming one of my supporters on Patreon. Just click the orange banner above.

Microfiction October 2018

Monthly Microfiction – October 2018 [Patrons Only]

Apologies for all the October stuff coming so late! The end of October was very, very busy on several fronts.

The image this microfic is based on is “Feeding the Sacred Ibis in the Halls of Karnac” by Sir Edward John Poynter

The Initiate

The halls of the temple were quiet; the dawn song sung, the morning light just beginning to peek between the columns. Maatkare passed between them as silently as possible, bare feet barely making a sound on the alabaster floor and just a gentle swish from the linen wrapped around her body. Only sacred sound was permitted here.

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Pyramids and Punk DVD Extras

Background Sketch: Ibi 3 – DVD Extras [Patrons Only]

I’ve had the vague notion of this scene in my head for a very long time and so decided that it was time to solidify it. I’d also decided a little while ago that Ibi needed a piece of jewelry that would serve as an anchor. When I go back and revise this draft I’ll add it to the sections I’ve already written. Going forward, she’ll be wearing the necklace at all times.

PS – If anyone is moved to make that piece of jewelry mentioned, let me know…

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Patrons on the Sneak A Peek level, click here to read the scene (you’ll need the password). Not a patron yet? You can read the rest of this piece and all the ones that came before by becoming one of my supporters on Patreon. Just click the orange banner above.

September Microfiction

Monthly Microfiction – September 2018 [Patrons Only]

I’m back to writing Wolf & Bunny stories. Because it’s been a while, I went ahead and added the other two stories to the blog here so you can read them if you didn’t before or forget what happened in them. There’s a TOC at the bottom of this post.

The stories in this series are based on the artwork of Chiara Bautista which is amazing and gorgeous and you should look at all of it.

I’m including stories based on two images this month since the first story didn’t feel quite substantive enough. I hope you enjoy and please do let me know your thoughts in the comments!

There Are No Stars in the Sky Tonight

She came down here to be alone. Up there she’s never alone. But then he came down to join her and that ended up being all right. Because she realized that what she needed wasn’t to be alone. She just needed a change in perspective. And perhaps, just a little, to feel some proof of love.

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Pyramids and Punk DVD Extras

Background Sketch: Sitamun 1 – DVD Extras [Sneak A Peek Patrons Only]

Now that I’m moving into Section 3 of the book Sitamun, Ibi’s mom, is about to be on screen more. So I’m writing out some key interactions between her and Ziwat to give myself more context for the dramaaaaaaaaa that’s about to take place.

If you want to see the other background scenes leading up to this I now have navigation at the bottom of this and other DVD Extras posts so you can easily find them.

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Patrons on the Sneak A Peek level, click here to read the scene (you’ll need the password). Not a patron yet? You can read the rest of this piece and all the ones that came before by becoming one of my supporters on Patreon. Just click the orange banner above.