Something Wicked This Way Comes

The crisp, cool fingers of Fall paints the landscape with crimson and gold. Pumpkins peer out from patches of tangled vines, their blank faces eager to carve out a grin or grimace. The specter of Halloween awaits in the shadows, hungry to pounce. It slithers under beds. It lurks behind cracked doors. It burrows beneath creaking floors.

What better way to embrace the bumps in the night than to forge ones of your own that fright. If you’ve the courage to join Yolanda Renee & Denise Covey’s fearful WEP Halloween challenge, I hear the treats are worth the tricks.

I’m joining forces with Sub Pub Music to create a creepy atmospheric journey through a classic childhood tale gone horribly awry. Knock on my virtual door October 21st – 23rd, wager which fairytale we’ve twisted and you’ll walk away with a digital copy of their latest haunting album, Cryogenesis, featuring dark & daring composers Mikkel Heimburger, Cody Still, Nick Road, Ciaran Birch, and Martin Hasseldam.

I should warn you, those who stray from the correct path may be detained indefinitely within the confines of our cryo chamber.

Cryogenesis – We Are All Aliens – Mikkel Heimburger

Cryogenesis_cover


InsecureWritersSupportGroupIWSG, a community of brilliant writers led by Alex J. Cavanaugh, meets the first Wednesday of every month. Visit the Insecure Writer’s Support Group website and database! You’ll find  everything from writing to marketing, along with encouragement and support!

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IMAGINE the Possibilities

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The biggest Epic Music event of the year is coming to a close this Saturday, August 9th! In celebration of YouTube powerhouse, EpicMusicVn‘s 2 year anniversary, we gathered leaders of the epic music industry, Two Steps From Hellaudiomachine, Really Slow Motion Music, Epic North Music, & graphic designer, Koke Núñez Gómez, for an unprecedented, global collaboration, where writers, artists, video editors and visionaries have the chance to create something amazing! IMAGINE the possibilities HERE!


It’s been a VERY busy summer, with exciting events and projects coming to a close and many more hovering on the horizon. A major shift in the realm of responsibility happened this week, when my two little girls (1st & 4th graders, previously homeschooled) were accepted into a brand new Charters school, named IMAGINE — I took this as a major sign that we’re traveling down the right path!

Though I’ll miss my kiddos, my days are now FREE for WRITING and freelance film industry projects! I’ve issued a strict final draft deadline this fall for my YA fantasy novel series, Architects of Illusion (Echoes of Olympus, #1). This semester is already booked with collaborations and another round of epic writing, where I’ll mentor gifted teens as they learn to embrace this year’s theme of COURAGE!

An Act of Courage


 First, they conquered Outer Space….
Now, they bring destruction to the promised land…
The Viking Warriors are coming to ARCADIA!

ARCADIA Cover_Koke

Welcome to THE CONQUERORS, a Steampunk Viking flash fiction challenge for the industry release, ARCADIA (produced & published by Really Slow Motion). Pulling inspiration from the exclusive industry track, The Song of the World Tree, by brilliant composer, Tapsa Kuusniemi, and the stunning album cover, by gifted graphic designer & composer, Koke Núñez Gómez, FORGE an epic tale (under 500 words) that conquers the imagination! Submit your entries in the comments section of the Contest Page by August 9th, midnight EST!


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JETTA – I’d Love to Change the World

Sixteen-year-old Hutchinson McQueen is trapped in a dysfunctional family. Shackled by poor vision and poor reading skills, he squeaks through classes with his talent for eavesdropping and memorizing what he hears. After another suspension from school and suffering through one of his mother’s violent attacks, he escapes to a friend’s house that turns out to be a meth lab. The lab is raided and Hutch lands in juvenile detention. When the court sentences him to six months in a new juvenile program, he meets a teacher with Alzheimer’s who will change his life and hers.

Now available from Evernight Teen!

Enter to WIN a free copy or Amazon spending $$ HERE!

Add to your WANT To READ shelf on Goodreads


InsecureWritersSupportGroup

IWSG, a community of brilliant writers led by Alex J. Cavanaugh, meets the first Wednesday of every month. Visit the Insecure Writer’s Support Group website and database! You’ll find  everything from writing to marketing, along with encouragement and support!

Dogwood for Spooktoberfest!

SONY DSCHosted by Dani at Entertaining Interests and Jax at Bouquet of Books. Participants were challenged to compose a flash fiction piece of 300-500 words (mine is 352). The setting is chosen from one of four preselected pictures and the author must use three of the six magic words (in green).

To see all the possible settings and magic word choices, and to read more wickedly wrought tales, click HERE.

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“Alright, which one is it?” Birch barked, his breath coiling in tendrils of smoky irritation. He was anxious to return to the dance, before some other bloke noticed his absence and moved in on his date. It had taken Birch the better part of a year to gather up enough nerve to approach Holly. Instead of whispering sweet nothings in her ear, he’s stomping through the woods with a couple of sods.

“I…I dunno…they all look the same in this light,” Willow wheezed, his lanky form bent at the waist. In the space of an hour, he’d run this route twice. He didn’t much care for running.

“Looks the bloody same?” Birch throws his arms in the air. “Didn’t you think to mark it somehow?”

“I…I panicked. It..It all happened so fast,” Willow runs restless hands through a mop of wild copper curls. “I feel positively wretched. What are we gonna do?”

“Honestly, Willow. And you call yourself a wizard,” Hemlock shakes his head.

“We were running late and–”

“As usual. Ever hear of a timepiece, Willow? Magnificent inventions,” Birch tosses over his shoulder, the snapping of twigs underfoot punctuating his foul mood.

“Mum gives me a watch every year, they never keep the right time,” Willow thrusts out his wrist, “See for yourself–it moves anticlockwise.”

“Maybe it’s a time machine,” Hemlock snorts under his breath, “We could use one of those about now.”

“Bugger off,” Willow snaps. “It was his idea to cut through the woods. When we heard the howling, we took off down the hill. Bleeding idiot tripped over a skeleton. What was I supposed to do? Let him get eaten by a pack of werewolves? It’s not like I had any potions handy.”

They walk around in circles a bit, the sound of crunching leaves echoing the hopelessness of the situation.

“What kinda gammy spell did you use? You turned your little brother into a tree. A. Tree. In the middle of the woods. And ya can’t even tell us which bloody one he is. Blimey!”

“Mum’s gonna kill me,” Willow murmurs, “Dogwood’s her favorite.”

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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake GearySpooktoberfest Winner

The Reservoir Dog

Reservoir DogA new twist on Tarantino for the FridayFlash crew and my first flash for the Mid-Week Blues-Buster song-based prompt.

Inspiring Prompt: Depeche Mode – Home

Word Count: 411

A formidable predator, dad specializes in damage control for the Tarantino family. An occupation I detest. A secret better left buried in the tangled bits of sheets that drag behind his feet.

Dad’s weary grin opens an ugly crimson gash near his jaw. Flecks of dried blood cake the edges of his raven hair. A sickeningly-sweet haze surrounds him.

“Why are you playing ball with the neighbor’s pet?” he growls, intimidating the poodle, who instinctually scampers off. “No more hanging out with that babbo from across the street. You’re supposed to be in training.”

“I prefer chasing after balls, not people,” I say, leveling my eyes with his. The metallic bite in the air stings my nose. “You should try it sometime, it would be less hazardous to your health.”

In one brutally swift motion, Dad has me pinned by the neck, my face shoved into the rough concrete. “Watch it son! You’ll treat me with respect or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what, Dad? Tear me to shreds like the last guy?” I snarl, firing my accusation into the cold cage of his heart.

“It’s a dirty business, son. I”m not gonna lie,” Dad relents, backing away as I jerk free from his loosening grip, “But it’s the only life I know. You won’t be so quick to judge once you start making rounds with the boss.”

“That’s no kind of life,” I snap, shaking the dirt from my coat. “You’re nothing but a pawn tied to a short leash — one they’ll use to hang you with before all is said and done. I want a better life. I want a home.”

He hangs his head, “When I was your age, I was trained to inflict pain. It was my job, my duty, my purpose. I don’t wish this life for you…I never have.”

“Then why can’t you stop?” I plead. “I know where we can go. A real home where people will actually care about us. You have a duty to me — to your son!”

“I wish it were that easy, son,” he sighs.

“It can be. We don’t belong here. Just, trust me.” I say, backing down the driveway into the road, eager to put some distance between us and the clutches of violence.

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” he jeers, reluctantly following my lead.

“Good thing you’re not old,” I tease, the tags on his collar clinking as I lick his face.

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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake Geary

I appreciate feedback, so comment, critique or just banter to your heart’s content! Should you leave a really awesome comment, I may share my fair-trade, shade-grown, bird-sanctuary, organic coffee with you:) Or, if you leave a link to your site, I can just pop in and say something witty after polishing off a cup or two!

Doggone It!

voodoo-dollFeeling a bit silly today, thought I’d share an “Office Space” moment for my FridayFlash crew and cohorts from my pharmaceutical research days!

Inspiring Soundtrack: Canibus With Biz Markie – Shove This Jay Oh Bee – Office Space Soundtrack

“You’re looking more tense than usual,” my snacking sidekick, Teresa, declares between bites of cheese crackers she found peeking out of my desk drawer.

 “Our boss is in league with the devil,” I sigh, looking around for eavesdroppers. “He’s stretching my thin tether to sanity with all this futile busywork. If we didn’t have so many pointless meetings, I might actually be productive.”

“Preaching to the choir sista! I’ve had three meetings already today, it’s not even noon,” she complains, sneaking a sip of coffee, “one of ‘em was just about planning next week’s meetings. I swear, between our boss and the half dozen more above him, we’re looking at a miserable life of servitude.”

One of management’s minions pins us with a suspicious glare. “Don’t get caught eating in the lab again, last time they confiscated my entire week’s supply of Cheez-Its – you still owe me a box,” I warn.

“You should hide your stash behind the chemical counter, like newbie over there,” Teresa quips, gesturing towards the newest white coat currently breaking protocol by weighing capsaicin out in the open. A fit of coughing erupts near the scales. “The toxic fumes add a distinctive flavor, don’t ya think?” she grins.

“This place is a regulation nightmare,” I reply, shaking my head. “If the stress doesn’t kill us, the chemical cocktail will do the job.”

“Hey, that reminds me – I’ve signed up for a new stress management course. Last night, we fashioned our very own voodoo dolls,” Teresa announces proudly. “It’s supposed to channel our frustrations. Mine resembled a sad little suit in dire need of a dress code intervention and breath mints.”

“I find that very disturbing,” I reply, snatching the now empty snack bag from her hand.

“Really? I found it very therapeutic,” she retorts. “Unfortunately, my dog used it as a chew toy this morning – it’s toast.”

“Hey, you guys hear the news?” asks Jason, our resident red-head, sporting an unusually wide grin. “Mr. Snod got attacked by a dog or something this morning. He’s down for the count until next week. All meetings have been cancelled until further notice. Crazy, huh?”

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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake Geary

I appreciate feedback, so comment, critique or just banter to your heart’s content! Should you leave a really awesome comment, I may share my fair-trade, shade-grown, bird-sanctuary, organic coffee with you:) Or, if you leave a link to your site, I can just pop in and say something witty after polishing off a cup or two!

Space Cadet

Space CadetA dedication to my Dad, Dr. Joseph Geary, a loving husband and father, comical character, brilliant mind and true “Space Cadet” – Happy Father’s Day!

Inspiring Soundtrack: Tom Corbett Space Academy Song -From the Golden Records 78, released in 1952.

I look around Dad’s extensive sci fi collection, silently calculating ebay potential, when Mom walks in toting another packing box and a bottle of amber liquid.

“Whoa, it’s a little early to be bringing out the big guns, Mom.”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you,” she declares, pouring a generous amount of pungent tequila in Dad’s Star Trek mug. “It’s time…I need to tell you something about your father –”

“I know. He already told me he was one of the MIB, even showed me his badge. That was a pretty neat replica,” I call out behind me, rummaging through his stash of jordan almonds.

“No!” Mom replied, exasperated. “It’s about your father’s past…he’s not exactly from here.”

“Ya think?” I quip while attempting a vulcan gesture, “It’s no secret he was a space cadet, I mean, look around.”

Is a space cadet. He’s not gone, honey, he was called back to his home planet.”

“Nice touch, Mom. We’ll say Dad was beamed back to the mothership, formally known as heaven – he’d like that.”

Agitated, Mom grabs a ray gun off the dusty shelf and points it towards me.

“Hey, I remember that one, isn’t that a prop from Battlestar Galactica–”

A blinding light floods the room and my body goes completely numb.

Mom steps over me, shaking her head. “Teenagers…think they know everything.”

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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake Geary

I appreciate feedback, so comment, critique or just banter to your heart’s content! Should you leave a really awesome comment, I may share my fair-trade, shade-grown, bird-sanctuary, organic coffee with you:) Or, if you leave a link to your site, I can just pop in and say something witty after polishing off a cup or two!

Greenspirits

Birchwood house at night low res

Birchwood House
by Sally J. Smith

An homage to the Environmental Art of Sally J Smith of Greenspirit Arts and her magical visions of Faerie Houses.

Jonsi – Why Not

Daffodils and tulips pushed their way through the sleepy soil, announcing their arrival in a spectacular display of living color.

Sally ran her small fingers across their velvety petals, selecting the brightest ones for her special project. She added the jewel-toned flowers to her pile of birch bark, white willow twigs, wild grape tendrils, rivers stones and dried moss.

Each Spring, as the world around her blossomed, a menagerie of critters, feathered, furred and frog-like, would set up residence in her backyard.

Some guests were more magical than others.

Four years ago, today, marked Their first appearance in her mother’s garden. Every year since, she has sculpted a safe haven for the weary-winged travelers, each more enchanting than the one before.

Sally passionately constructed her vision from the collection of nature’s trinkets she gathered earlier that morning. She swept away a small clearing around a cedar stump and nestled a large base of bark upon it.

Hours fell away as she carefully placed each whimsical element. Under her skilled hands, a miniature house took shape, complete with a circular tower, latticed windows and moss covered door.

It was perfect.

They will be pleased.

Sally reluctantly crawled into bed later that evening, her gaze drawn to the delightful creation silently waiting on the other side of the glass.

She struggled to stay awake, but the excitement of the day weighed heavily upon her lids. Lulled to sleep by a cacophony of chirping and croaking, Sally slipped in and out of fairytale dreams as night took hold.

A tapping on her window jolted her awake.

Rubbing slumber from her eyes, Sally strained to penetrate the inky darkness.

A ripple of movement darted past the window.

Throwing her covers aside, she jumped out of bed and pressed her forehead against the cool pane.

What she saw made her heart flutter.

A welcoming glow flickered from within her crafted cottage, casting shadows of tiny wings and faerie things.

They were back.

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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake Geary

ffdo-bloghop

Four years ago to the day, on May 29, 2009, FridayFlash was born. Happy Anniversary to this talented writing community! May you continue to build wonders with your imagination:)

I appreciate feedback, so comment, critique or just banter to your heart’s content! Should you leave a really awesome comment, I may share my fair-trade, shade-grown, bird-sanctuary, organic coffee with you:) Or, if you leave a link to your site, I can just pop in and say something witty after polishing off a cup or two!

Old Soul

Biltmore Wisteria

Wisteria
Biltmore Estate

My 8 sentence excerpt for Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday. Click on over to these talented writers and preview some amazing stories!

Inspiring Soundtrack: Hans Zimmer – Inception – Time

I first met Frederick under the fragrant canopy of a lone wisteria tree that thrived with wild abandon amidst the ruins of a sprawling country estate. He was the grand architect of its gardens, long before the landscape was suddenly, irreparably erased.

Through his stories, I can picture the vibrant colors of the roses, inhale the sweet aroma of azaleas, feel the velvety lambs ears and taste the tangy wild raspberries nestled in earthy greens. I can almost hear the chatter of squirrels in phantom trees and the echoes of songbirds in ashen skies, losing myself in a time when life thrived here in abundance…now, all that remains is the memory.

He has built me a new world, a better world, from the remnants of his.

Through him, I’ve learned to coax new life out of the reluctant soil – an endangered survival skill lost over a century ago. Though I’ve shared this knowledge with the others, I dare not speak of him, not when his name and likeness haunts the ancient, crumbling halls of our new home.

The closest I’ve come to living is through the words of a ghost.

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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake Geary

I appreciate feedback, so comment, critique or just banter to your heart’s content! Should you leave a really awesome comment, I may share my fair-trade, shade-grown, bird-sanctuary, organic coffee with you:) Or, if you leave a link to your site, I can just pop in and say something witty after polishing off a cup or two!

Wings of Icarus

Steampunk Icarus Wings

Steampunk Icarus Wings
by Thin Gypsy Thief Studios

The ancient Greek myth of Icarus with a Wild West Steampunk twist – My first Steampunk attempt!

Dirty Goggles Blog Hop                * Fan Favorite Winner!
Title: Wings of Icarus
Word Count: 696
Author: Samantha Redstreake Geary
Category: Wild West Steampunk 

Inspiring Soundtrack: In Time – Choral Theme

I am trapped inside the belly of the beast as it claws its way through the desolate deserts of the Diné, a home I can no longer see through the smoldering breath of this iron horse. The greedy goliath devours the steel tracks with unparalleled speed, the distance between me and everything I’ve ever known, growing with each relentless bite.

Several days have passed since I was ripped from my people by the mad architect of this monstrosity. My father, Captain Daedalus, staked his claim over me following the death of my mother. His reasons remain a mystery.

Once a Navajo slave of General Minos, mother had fallen under the spell of the Captain, who promised a life of freedom to her and their unborn child. But freedom came with a price he was unwilling to pay. She escaped, shortly after I was born, and found solace within her tribe, but remained as unforgiving as the desert heat.

In the years that followed, Mother had grown weary with fear. She had visions that haunted her dreams and plagued her days. It was written in the stars, she said, that he would charge into my life on a seething steed and steal me away from the spirit of this serene land.

I was to be trained, by the fiercest of our clan, to be a warrior.

After completing my spirit path, the seer presented me with a new name, Icarus, “guardian of the sky”. Mother fashioned me an eagle fetish, a great honor among our people. A symbol of both healing and hunting, eagles are the messengers to the Gods, harboring great power while maintaining balance. It was intricately carved from translucent chrysocolla, the vivid blue-green swirls representing the skies. A cerulean azurite stone, sharpened into an arrowhead, was secured to its wings with copper wire.

The eagle was a talisman of protection, a reminder of my heritage and the only thing left of my mother.

Loss and rage bite into my palm as their grip tightens.

Imprisoned within the Labyrinth, a fearsome structure of cold metal designed by an even colder heart, I stare at my captor with barely concealed contempt as we wait outside the General’s chambers.

“Come now child, it can’t be all bad! I’ve rescued you from squalor, put a shiny roof over your head and decent food in your belly and all I get for my troubles is the evil eye,” the Captain huffs, clearly put-out that I’m not grovelling at his feet.

“You kidnapped me from my family, stripped me of my freedom and locked me up like one of your dogs!” I spit.

“You have your mother’s spirit, no doubt about that!” he sneers, “but take care to keep your tone more civilized, lest you find yourself sharing quarters with the swine.”

An intimidating guard opens the door to a lavish apartment, “The General is ready to see you now. Leave the savage here,” he glares in my direction. A cloud of tobacco wafts through the cracked door into the hall,  carrying their voices on a spicy scent that stings my nose.

“Captain, we took a very expensive detour to collect your, err, property. I hope, for your sake, the native rat is as valuable as you claim,” General Minos warns, “I’ve gone to great lengths to fund this contraption – I expect you to deliver what was agreed upon!”

“The Labyrinth is the technological achievement of the age, sir. This modern steam engine is impervious to attack and the weapon I’ve secured within its bowels holds the key to our domination. We need her to control the Minotaurs, General. I assure you, she is worth every penny,” the Captain boasts.

I strike both guards down with the venom-tipped cactus spines concealed in my fetish. Instinct urges me to grab a set of wooden wings off the wall and secure it to my back, unsure of the complicated mechanism. I push through the tiny window and climb out, grabbing hold of the bars leading to the top of the speeding behemoth.

The metal cylinder between my shoulder blades hums to life as I flip the switch.

I spread my wings and jump.
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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake Geary

I appreciate feedback, so comment, critique or just banter to your heart’s content! Should you leave a really awesome comment, I may share my fair-trade, shade-grown, bird-sanctuary, organic coffee with you:) Or, if you leave a link to your site, I can just pop in and say something witty after polishing off a cup or two!

Rising (Part 5 of Kore)

Phoenix_risingHermes enlists the help of Aphrodite to resurrect Kore.

Aphrodite entered the apartment at Vanderbilt’s School of Medicine in the dead of night.
“I just left the social event of the year to placate your ego Hermes. Someone better be dying!” Aphrodite snaps.
“Someone already has,” Hermes whispers, stepping aside to reveal the ravaged remains of Kore. “Aides sent Cerberus to hunt her down for betraying their arrangement. I believe you know Asclepius.”
“Why haven’t you brought her back?” Aphrodite accuses, horrified.
“The damage is beyond even my healing ability. Kore needs regeneration,” Asclepius replies, defeated. “If you don’t save her, Aphrodite, she’ll be a prisoner of Aides’ underworld forever. He’ll own her soul.”
“Why the concern for Kore’s spirit?” Aphrodite asks, suspicious.
“She left Aides to be with me…I intended to save her. Now, she’s beyond my reach,” Asclepius cries.
“I love her, Aphrodite. Isn’t that enough?” Asclepius pleads.
“You can ask her that yourself, when she rises.”

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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake Geary