Shades of Beowulf! Charles E. Yallowitz has a new story coming out soon at an Amazon Marketplace near you … and for only 99 cents! The cover alone is worth so much more … the story, no doubt, will be priceless!
Ichabod Brooks & the City of Beasts (Cover by Nio Mendoza)
In a time of heroes, a man will take any job to provide for his family.
Ichabod Brooks has earned a reputation for taking the jobs most men and women fear to challenge. This reputation has brought him to the charred remains of a small village nestled within the hills and forest of Ralian. The ruins are a source of strange monsters that terrorize the countryside and repeatedly elude the local guards and hunters. The few brave souls who have entered the creatures’ lair have yet to come out alive or dead.
The chances of survival are slim, but that generous payment is too much for Ichabod to resist. After all, a man and his family have to eat.
Author Biography
Charles E. Yallowitz was born, raised, and educated in New York…
This short short story was originally published on The Community Storyboard in May 2013. With some minor revisions, I’m reprinting it here.
Sunday Dinner
The child’s cry pierced my ears, and I thanked God again that I was too blind to see her tear-soaked red face. Every Sunday they put me through this. As an old woman, a matriarch, I’m supposed to be grateful. And I cope well enough with the cacophony of patent leather shoes and Buster Browns tripping across my wood floors. I cope with the sting and stench of my son-in-law’s cigar smoke, fighting for attention with the sour aroma of sauerkraut and kielbasa, my shoulders constantly pressed and rubbed as if I needed a reminder that it’s another Sunday dinner with all my children and their children. (more…)
Again, I’m having a bit of fun with my NaNoWriMo work-in-progress. Here is an excerpt featuring Maggie Reynolds and a story straight out of Irish-Lativan lore.
***
Maggie found a quiet corner in the cafe and set her tall Skinny Vanilla Latte on the table. It was one of her little pleasures to have a few minutes of quiet and caffeine before she opened her knitting shop next door. Another pleasure was to pick up a tabloid for a few minutes of humor. It had been one of her mother’s pleasures as well. Maggie’s mother was a college graduate (BA in philosophy and religion) but she occasionally sneaked home a copy of The National Enquirier or News of the World when she went grocery shopping. She told Maggie and her dad that the stories were sometimes too funny not to want to read beyond the headlines. And yet, she didn’t want her friends to know that she read such things: how could she say she read the rags for the stories?
And Maggie had inherited both her mother’s attraction to the ridiculous and her reticence in admitting it. The headline that had caught her eye this morning had brought her up short, though. It was so bizarre that she couldn’t help but wonder if there were any truth in it: “Young Irish Lass Assaulted by Giant Latvian Penis” was the headline, but the story was relegated to page 13, with a warning that following pictures were graphic. Maggie almost knocked over her latte when she, rather quickly, opened the paper to page 13. There in full color was a picture of a woman hugging a giant penis.
Maggie’s mouth fell open and then promptly shut. The idea of reading about a penis with her mouth hanging open was somehow unsettling. She glanced around to make sure no one in the cafe had seen her expression and then proceeded to read:
“On the evening of September 19, 20__, a young Irish woman was found on the streets near her apartment slightly bruised and very giggly. It was quickly ascertained that the woman was intoxicated and had apparently fallen while on her way home from a local pub. Police say, however, that her bruises were not entirely consistent with a stumble along a cracked sidewalk so they took her to the local hospital for examination. At hospital, the young woman explained that she taught English to Latvian students which initially confused authorities since the woman is Irish. They also suspected her of being a Russian spy, but since she could not stop giggling, they eventually disregarded that suspicion.
“Since the woman may be a victim of assault, this paper will only refer to her as L. According to L, earlier that evening she had gone to the pub to meet a young Latvian man that she had met online through a dating website. She produced a picture of the man which the police has released to our paper in the hope that either he will come forward or that someone will know of his whereabouts.
“L claimed that they had a pleasant conversation peppered with several pints of beer, but that they said goodbye at the pub with no plans to meet again. L lamented that this was typical of her dates so far with Latvian men. Our reporter, who is a Latvian woman, noted that L was not wearing the requisite stiletto heels and leopard-print, figure-hugging dress necessary for a first date. L responded with a few words which we cannot print in a family newspaper.
“When asked how she came to have bruises over her body, L said that while on her way home, she was confronted by a giant penis. The penis blocked her exit from the side street where the pub was located. L claimed that at first she thought the penis was just a costume worn by a Latvian with a sense of humor. She admitted that that was her first mistake. Her second mistake was in hugging the penis as if it were the “man of my dreams.” L stated that what happened next was not clear in her mind, but as the memory returned to her, she started giggling again. “It got p***ed off at me,” she said, obviously relishing the double entrende. Our reporter demonstrated considerable patience in waiting for L’s giggles to subside so she could wrap up the story.
“As it turns out, according to L, the penis was in fact offended by L’s “manhandling” of it and proceeded to knock itself against her head and arms in an attempt to get away from her. By this point, L was practically falling off her chair with laughter, the hospital staff had given up trying to treat her bruises (which in point of fact looked considerably benign), and our reporter was fed up with the whole story. The only “proof” that a giant penis even exists in Latvia is the picture at the top of this story, which L had been carrying around in her pocket.
“Since L will not say how she obtained the photo, it is up to our intrepid reporter to track down the giant penis and get its side of the story. A full update will be provided to our loyal readers once more information has been gained.”
Maggie quietly folded the tabloid. As she left the cafe with her now tepid latte, she slipped the rag into the newspaper recycle bin. Perhaps, she thought, she should find something else to read first thing in the morning.
I am very happy to announce that I met my 50,000 word goal in Camp NaNoWriMo! And how did I meet such a lofty goal, you ask. Why, by frequently combining blog posts with my novel writing, such as I did here and here.
And here I go again! This post is rather long, but if you’ve read my and John Howell’s latest Top Ten List on losing weight, then you should be able to breeze through it.
I have to admit that editing this third book in my series will be very interesting since it contains a book review, a guest blog, a revised fairy tale, and now this riff on our Ten Top List. Hope you enjoy ;)
Fat Cat Sleeping
An excerpt from The Widow’s Club: Guilty Until Proven Innocent
Maggie took a sip of her hot chocolate and turned on her laptop. She wasted no time in heading to her favorite blog, Fiction Favorites by John Howell. She loved his blog and now his Monday morning post of “top ten things not to do” list. It was a collaboration with some other blogger, but she hadn’t bothered to visit the other blog. She was plenty satisfied with Fiction Favorites.
She needed a laugh, she needed some distraction from Mary’s anxiety, Melissa’s disappearance, and Randy’s unknown whereabouts. Their lives were becoming more like a poorly written soap opera. She clicked her way to Fiction Favorites and almost shot hot chocolate through her nose when she saw the title: “Top Ten List of Things Not to do When Trying to Lose Weight.” Maggie had been fighting with her weight all her life. She had never been obese, just overweight enough to be self-conscious about her figure, particularly the waxing and waning of her waistline. This should be good, she thought, as she hunched over the laptop.
She read the first item in the list: “When trying to lose weight, do not go on a 24-hour fast and then a Chinese buffet binge just because fasting is the new “in” diet. The rapid transition from empty stomach to a stomach brimming with hot and sour soup, General Tso’s Chicken, spring rolls, crab rangoon, snow peas in garlic sauce, fried rice, and chocolate pudding can be explosive.” She stifled a giggle. She had actually done that once, and only once. She had been so starving when she got to the Chinese buffet that she filled up her plate at least four times. Nothing “explosive” happened, but she did wind up feeling like a beached whale all that night. Her husband Bobby had teased her about it for days afterward.
The next item was: “When trying to lose weight, do not mistake the South Beach diet for endless daiquiris and tapas at Miami’s South Beach. You’ll never get into that sleek little bathing suit if you do.” She smiled and glanced over at Mary, who was sitting on the couch and fiddling with her cell phone. Mary had been to South Beach with Christopher a long time ago. She wanted to ask her what tapas were, but Mary looked too distracted. Probably just a typo, Maggie thought.
She read on: “When trying to lose weight, do not sign up for your very first triathlon if your only familiarity with exercise is being able to juggle multiple remotes for your TV, DVD player and sound system. You want to lose weight, not your life, which you will likely forfeit in the first five minutes of the competition.” She snorted, but this time without getting hot chocolate up her nose. She used to tease Bobby about his dexterity in juggling all their various remotes. He could have turned it into an Olympic sport.
“When trying to lose weight, by all means, purchase a scale for weighing your food so you can be sure of the size of your portions. Just don’t bring it with you to restaurants and weigh the food served to you. At best, your friends will find the activity of watching you trying to weigh a dollop of mashed potatoes rather boring. At worst, your food will be in an unappetizing state after the weighing.” Maggie cocked her head while she read this item. Who would bring a food scale to a restaurant? Who would even think of it? Maggie guessed that this list, or at least this item, was written by the other blogger, someone with a rather tenuous grasp on humor.
She sat up straight and her face flushed when she read the next item on the list: “When trying to lose weight, do not buy spandex for casual wear EVER! No explanation is necessary.” Oh, really, she thought. No spandex ever? Why, she was wearing spandex at that very moment and it was very comfortable and not unattractive. Of course, they were leggings, black leggings, and she had a long black rayon skirt over them, so …. She moved on down the list.
“When trying to lose weight, do not try to curb your appetite with bottomless cups of coffee, bottles of diet pills, or any other substance. These have less to do with suppressing appetite and much more to do with making you so hyper that you never sleep, which, ironically, gives you more hours in which to eat.” Well, Maggie thought, this is more true than funny. She had tried diet pills herself when she was in high school. Talk about being hyper. She couldn’t stop talking. She would talk right over Mary until Mary finally lost her temper and yelled at her to “Shut the fuck up!” And they were in church at the time. During Mass for a friend’s wedding.
Maggie sunk down in her chair and peered at Mary over the laptop. Her cousin was gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Probably worrying about Melissa or Randy or both, she thought. The memory of Mary’s outburst, in the church of all places, made Maggie feel reticent about sharing this list with her. Any other time she would read Howell’s list out loud to her, or his haikus. But this list was strangely unfunny. The list was pushing all the wrong buttons.
Still, she continued to read: “When trying to lose weight, do not take any diet pills that promise to block your absorption of fat (e.g., Alli). Yes, they do work, but they work at all the wrong moments–in the middle of a business meeting, during a long commute, or while you’re sitting in the window seat of an airplane with Chris Christie next to you.” She covered her mouth as she smiled at this item. The image of being stuck on a plane between the window and Chris Christie was too much for her. Never mind the idea that you have an urgent need to go to the bathroom. She remembered Bobby once telling her about a meeting he was in at the bank, when one of the loan officers suddenly jumped up from her chair and ran out of the room. They found out later that she had been taking Alli and made the mistake of eating potato chips with her lunch. She barely got to the bathroom in time. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t laugh at someone’s expense like that, but he said the look on her face was so funny, like someone had just poked her in the butt.
The memory of Bobby’s laughter made Maggie’s smile grow bigger, but her chin quivered as well. They were both quiet types, introverts, but he had had a wonderful sense of humor. His humor was much like John Howell’s and she thought that was probably why she liked his blog so much.
“When trying to lose weight, do not hire a trainer that looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s poor cousin and whose sales pitch is “I want to pump you up!” What you might get “pumped up” with may not be legal.” Oh, Bobby would love this one, she thought, as she bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Whoever wrote this item had to be thinking of those characters on Saturday Night Live. She thought Dana Carvey was one of them. Bobby had loved those characters. John probably wrote this item.
Maggie scrolled further down the list. Just two more. She wrinkled her nose at the next one: “When trying to lose weight, do not take up colon cleansing. As with most of the items on this list, the result of too much of a good thing can result in frequent and expensive calls to your plumber.” The other blogger must have written this list, she thought. Really, John wouldn’t be so juvenile in his humor. Of course, part of dieting does involve changes to one’s input and output, as Bobby had liked to describe those particular bodily functions. But, really, she thought, the other blogger is just running out of ideas.
Finally, the last item. She almost sighed with relief: “Finally, when trying to lose weight, take a good long look in the mirror and ask yourself which is more important: fitting into those skinny jeans you wore in high school or feeling strong, healthy, and happy, even if you are a little soft around the edges.”
Maggie sat back in her chair. Well, she thought, that is kind of a nice way to end the list, given how difficult it is to lose weight. And being healthy is more important. But the last item was anti-climatic. The whole list reminded Maggie of her own struggle to lose weight–just 10 or 15 pounds. All the diets she tried. All the times that Bobby would tell her not to fret about her weight so much. He loved her curves. He loved her. But she did finally lose that 15 pounds plus another 10. After Bobby’s death. She had lost interest in eating then and for a long time, she only ate if food was put before her. She’d gladly put all that weight back on if she could just have Bobby back.
Maggie closed the laptop and looked over at her cousin. Mary returned her gaze and gave her a weak smile. “It’s Monday,” Mary said. “Any good lists on Fiction Favorites? I could use a laugh right now.”
Ichabod Brooks & the City of Beasts (Cover by Nio Mendoza) 
Author Biography
Marie at 1 Write Way 