NWLA Artists Directory, Pushcart Prize and a little Texas

A statue in the park next to the Historic Market Square

San Antonio, TX. Bird does not look impressed.

Howdy All!

Just came across an old post about the NorthWest Louisiana Artists Directory, so I hopped on over there and posted some more artwork. Shots from Las Vegas, Belgium and photos from around Louisiana were added to my artist profile. I need to place some more writing over there as well. Neat to see the different styles I prefer -macro, abstract, geometric. Been a year or so since I last wandered around the LA art site. Wish it were more active, or that my wife and I were more involved in the local artscene, or both! Who knows. Someday maybe. It's a great idea, a site to gather together creative types in the area. 

Also heard that Catherine Shields was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize, which recognizes the best literary works in the small presses. She is nominated for "My Phantom Ovaries" published in Ariel Chart. Intriguing title! You can read it here.

Another short piece of hers, "Blessed Curse" appeared just a couple of months ago as part of Dave's excellent series on how to Micro Write. You can read it here. Good luck, Catherine!

Picture up at the top of this entry was from a trip down to San Antonio. I didn't write down who the statue was of or what the statue was for. The bird resting on the end of the rifle is what caught my attention. He's not normally part of the statue! Got distracted after I took that picture because a helicopter was landing on the roof of the Children's hospital right next door. Had a lot of fun down there visiting relatives and taking a few pictures. Here's another, from inside the Historic Market Square...These are small figurines of spirit animals, called
Alebrijes

May your days be long and good upon this earth.

Pale Divers

07OCT2019

Two posts in two days. That's what you get when I'm off work. I'm not really off-work, just off of my main tasking, too much energy to just sit around and enjoy the silence. But the upshot is you all get another peek behind the scenes as I post another work in progress. This is a longer story, looking for a home on the timeline for my world and more time for me to work it up into a full-fledged novel. Notes are mixed in with the text. 

Here's a shaman, telling the story of the Pale Divers, who stole Secrets and Power from the sea...  This is a tale of High Fantasy, and will make a nice addition to my others tales of the world as it merges and diverges with other worlds...

The Pale Divers
The family lives along the blustery, granite coast of one of the islands between the Old Country and the New World.

For generations they have tapped a hidden source of ancient power that makes them incredibly strong, healthy and long-lived. 

Centuries earlier, the founder of the family line, a sailor named Tamnir, was shipwrecked and investigated this strange coastline. After years of exploring the area and its shape-shifting ways, he stumbled upon a glowing, undulating underwater cavern, at times huge, at times small, at all times maddening. The water would churn and grow opaque as silt and rock broke loose and mixed with the water. The shifting of water, land and space in this area cause many problems, earthquakes, destructive waves and hurricane winds. Ferocious beasts tore up and down the waterways of the coastline, tracking a subtle scent of prey.

When the water cleared, Tamnir saw that the underwater cavern was lit by glowing pearlescent orbs lining every surface. The orbs were large, the size of a crouching man. Each one pulsed with a living light, soft and throbbing, that sequenced together with the other orbs in the cavern. The lightshow was enchanting.

What were they, Tamnir wondered. Ancient treasures? A hidden cache of magic from a lost empire?

The orbs are full of warm, nurturing power. Shortly after finding the cavern, Tamnir was rescued from the dangerous island. He returned several years later to further investigate the curious cavern.

The next few generations of divers learned how to harness the power of the orbs and survived through the appearance of several gigantic creatures. Tamnir’s grandson was the first to connect the large hard-shelled creatures as the source of the glowing orbs. They were eggs! The orbs of power were the unborn offspring of a race of realm-spanning, snail-like ‘sea’ creatures, sort of magical, gigantic abalones. The creatures have a muscular underbelly and a hard, mother-of-pearl shell protecting them. The cavern was a safe harbor for the creature’s eggs. The gigantic snail creatures ate spatial growths and creatures that survive along the edges of existences. They are in turn occasionally eaten by huge furred, otter-like creatures and shelled spatial horrors with claws. The adult snail creatures mindlessly drop their eggs and sperm in the cavern as they blindly crawl and swim through.

Planned voyages to the Old Country and shipwrecks brought in more ‘family’ members.

Once an egg has been fertilized and matured, the creatures break away from the rock and grow a nacre shell. Some of the family felt protective of the young, but the desire for the power contained in the orbs was too strong. 

The adults’ shell material was also useful for making protective armors and mirrors to peer into other worlds. The adult creatures use their powerful muscles to cling onto rock formations. They also anchor themselves in space-time as well, a power useful as the realms move about.

The family used the power of the eggs and the nacre shells of the adults. The shells make excellent armor, proof against creatures that break through planar barriers. Enchanted necklaces made from the shells prevented the wearer from crossing planar boundaries. In essence, it stuck the wearer on the current plane.

I hope to devote a lot more time to this story. Knowing me though, I'll probably place this one to the side as I work on other snippets laying around.

To end on a funny note, here is another picture: 

 FYI: I don't drink coffee. :) But if I did, it would look 'perfect'
 

The Book of Shells, Take II

05OCT2019

Starting writing again tonight. I haven't written much in the last few months since my normal day job started up again. Felt good to get back in the writing saddle. Below is some of what went on tonight. Another take on a story scrap I jotted down a few years ago, called The Book of Shells. Enjoy. If you want to see how the story has evolved, you can read the original post here. 

The Book of Shells

The noon air was warm and misty, filled with the sounds of gulls and the waves crashing on the cliffs nearby. Would be a postcard moment if not for the body waiting for him in the shack below. The detective ducked under the police tape and pounded down the rickety wooden stairs. Didn’t take long to reach the sandy bottom of the nearly hidden beach cove. Victim had this secluded spot all to himself. Cables strung along the stairway provided phone and electricity from the road above.

The detective opened the door and entered the sparse quarters. Guy lived a simple life. Small main room held a rattan chair and a coffee table. No pictures, no rug, no personal items anywhere. He stepped over the limbless outline, decades of cop superstition and Roman Catholic upbringing making him wary of disturbing the victim’s final resting place without cause. Bathroom sink held the usual toiletries, a dozen economy-size bottles of mouthwash, a gallon jug labeled Syrup of Ipecac, and a pyramid of toilet paper rolls. Interesting. He made a mental note to check on the plumbing. On the night stand in the bedroom was a long book, spiraled on the left side with brass loops, the kind that can be opened and closed. The book was wider than tall, reminding him of the shape of an old-fashioned ledger. “The Book of Shells” was written in neat black marker on the front, surrounded by strips of burlap. Scrap-booky but not in a bad way.

He reached out with the end of his pen and flipped the cover. Cover and title looked and sounded innocent enough, maybe a memoir of long walks on the beach and the treasures found there. The inside pages were gone, torn out.

That's all for now.

Two pictures for today. One is a message everyone should take to heart: 

This one is a science funny. FYI, ants have an acid called oleic acid that they emit when dead. If you put that acid on an ant that is alive, other ants will carry him away and the ant itself will not resist, because to all ants, including himself, he 'smells' dead. Truth is truly stranger than fiction.