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because you have nothing better to do...
http://www.the-fed.org/articles/volume21/issue6/adventure.html
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Beaker does Beethoven
Here's a little Friday Happiness...
Beaker does Beethoven
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If you like it, don't forget to go to http://www.webbyawards.com and help beaker win a webby! Don't you think he deserves one with everything he's been through? Look for "ode to joy" in the Music section.
Beaker goes Irish
Beaker does Beethoven
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If you like it, don't forget to go to http://www.webbyawards.com and help beaker win a webby! Don't you think he deserves one with everything he's been through? Look for "ode to joy" in the Music section.
Beaker goes Irish
Monday, April 20, 2009
Steampunk Archetype Test
Here's a fun bit of nonsense I found while looking online for airship pictures for inspiration for a scene in my steampunk WIP.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Your result for The Steampunk Archetype Test...
The Crazy Clockwork Tinkerer
What is life? If something simulates life so well that no one knows that it is simulated and treats it like it were alive, would that be just like life? And if you were the one to create this simulated life, would that make you a god of some sort? Quite possibly, and that may be one of the many motivations behind your projects. Your clockwork mechanisms started off simple and cute, but as you attempted to replicate life in your machines, you created bigger mechanisms, golems of gears, that do your bidding. You are a genius, but a crazy genius.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Flash Fiction Friday -- The Girl in the Bank
Each month we have a writing prompt for our meetings for the Los Angeles Romance Authors. This month’s prompt is There was once a chance he didn't take... Here’s what I came up with, set in Rory’s world of course. I’m in the process of re-doing the opening chapter (again, lol). Enjoy.
The Girl in the Bank
© 2009 Suzanne Lazear
There was once a chance he didn't take—and that was making stupid mistakes when the matter was life or death.
That’s what caused the death of his dad.
So when Bruce was called onto the scene of a bank robbery—one where a customer had come out of the woodwork, armed, and secured him even before the police arrived—he handled the matter with the utmost delicacy.
After all, a woman, one with the body of a pin-up model, who could single-handedly take down an armed criminal, was not someone to piss off.
Especially when you were positive she wasn’t human.
But what in the world was a Hunter doing on his turf?
Unless she was here for the Great Unveiling—now that would be smart. But neither Mac nor Frank had given him the heads up. And well, the Unveiling was months away. But seriously, someone should know if a Hunter was in town, and why.
“Got paperwork for that gun?” He asked her softly as some other officers took the robber and his cohort away. Normal people did not carry guns in their leather coats while shopping in Seattle. But he wasn’t about to cuff her. Not yet.
The little he knew about Hunters was that they were far from normal and not always entirely sane. Though he’d never heard of a lady Hunter.
Hell, he thought Hunters were fairytales. Now. That the Vampires had killed them all. Not that Hunters only hunted Vampires. But here she was.
Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her Washington DC gun permit and her drivers licenses—motorcycle class, also DC.
“A little far from home?” Bruce tried to smile and put her at ease. A well-trained Hunter could kill him before any of the officers could come to his aid—or he could aid himself.
“I’m crashing here for awhile.” She shifted from foot to foot impatiently, fists clenching and unclenching. The auburn-haired lady with the giant hazel eyes kept looking over her shoulder, and kept a clear view of the exit. Someone didn’t like to be boxed in.
Being a Werewolf, he understood the feeling.
Her vague answer made him arch an eyebrow. She was about six inches shorter than him, muscular, really nice ass, pretty. She held herself like someone who fought the good fight for a living. Alpha females weren’t his type, but he knew plenty who did.
The problem was, with a woman like that, if you pinched her ass, she’d probably kick yours.
“So what were you doing in the bank?”
She shrugged as he handed her info to another officer to check out. “Cashing my paycheck. ATMs hate me.”
“Where do you work?” Perhaps she wasn’t here for the Unveiling. But she should be. When the SuNat races came out of the closet and revealed themselves to the humans in a few months they’d need all the help they could get.
“I’m a porter for the Vashon Family YMCA.” Her eyes cast down when she said that. Her shoulders rounded. The toe of her black heeled boot scuffed there ground. Her job ashamed her.
It also surprised him. He was expecting her to be an off-duty cop, maybe someone from an alphabet agency on vacay. Military even. Something about her screamed law enforcement. Also, she might be in jeans, boots, and a leather duster, but she her clothes were far too nice as was her manicured nails and a fancy haircut to have a job that paid little more that minimum wage.
Under cover?
Vashon was full of Witches.
He had a friend with the Bureau in DC. Last thing they needed was someone from the FBI superfreak department sniffing around and uncovering the Unveiling before they were ready to go live. But that was why they had people from every agency and every level of public office on board.
Or, she could just be what she said. Hunters were defenders of the innocent, those who fought the darkness, so his grandmother’s stories said. It might be hard to simply set up shop in the twenty-first century as a lone hero or bounty hunter.
The officer handed him back her ID and her gun permit and whispered something in his ear.
“Problem, officer?” All she needed was a piece of gum. That woman was seven kinds of trouble.
“I’m sorry, Miss Richards, but I’ll have to bring you down to the station. You’re not in trouble.” Yet.
Sighing, she blew her auburn bangs off her forehead as she checked her phone. She wore a Red Sox hat. “They always do. But I have to be at work at 6.”
“It shouldn’t take too long.” Hopefully. Depending on why she was really in Seattle and what Mac and Frank thought of the situation. What time was it in DC again?
The Girl in the Bank
© 2009 Suzanne Lazear
There was once a chance he didn't take—and that was making stupid mistakes when the matter was life or death.
That’s what caused the death of his dad.
So when Bruce was called onto the scene of a bank robbery—one where a customer had come out of the woodwork, armed, and secured him even before the police arrived—he handled the matter with the utmost delicacy.
After all, a woman, one with the body of a pin-up model, who could single-handedly take down an armed criminal, was not someone to piss off.
Especially when you were positive she wasn’t human.
But what in the world was a Hunter doing on his turf?
Unless she was here for the Great Unveiling—now that would be smart. But neither Mac nor Frank had given him the heads up. And well, the Unveiling was months away. But seriously, someone should know if a Hunter was in town, and why.
“Got paperwork for that gun?” He asked her softly as some other officers took the robber and his cohort away. Normal people did not carry guns in their leather coats while shopping in Seattle. But he wasn’t about to cuff her. Not yet.
The little he knew about Hunters was that they were far from normal and not always entirely sane. Though he’d never heard of a lady Hunter.
Hell, he thought Hunters were fairytales. Now. That the Vampires had killed them all. Not that Hunters only hunted Vampires. But here she was.
Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her Washington DC gun permit and her drivers licenses—motorcycle class, also DC.
“A little far from home?” Bruce tried to smile and put her at ease. A well-trained Hunter could kill him before any of the officers could come to his aid—or he could aid himself.
“I’m crashing here for awhile.” She shifted from foot to foot impatiently, fists clenching and unclenching. The auburn-haired lady with the giant hazel eyes kept looking over her shoulder, and kept a clear view of the exit. Someone didn’t like to be boxed in.
Being a Werewolf, he understood the feeling.
Her vague answer made him arch an eyebrow. She was about six inches shorter than him, muscular, really nice ass, pretty. She held herself like someone who fought the good fight for a living. Alpha females weren’t his type, but he knew plenty who did.
The problem was, with a woman like that, if you pinched her ass, she’d probably kick yours.
“So what were you doing in the bank?”
She shrugged as he handed her info to another officer to check out. “Cashing my paycheck. ATMs hate me.”
“Where do you work?” Perhaps she wasn’t here for the Unveiling. But she should be. When the SuNat races came out of the closet and revealed themselves to the humans in a few months they’d need all the help they could get.
“I’m a porter for the Vashon Family YMCA.” Her eyes cast down when she said that. Her shoulders rounded. The toe of her black heeled boot scuffed there ground. Her job ashamed her.
It also surprised him. He was expecting her to be an off-duty cop, maybe someone from an alphabet agency on vacay. Military even. Something about her screamed law enforcement. Also, she might be in jeans, boots, and a leather duster, but she her clothes were far too nice as was her manicured nails and a fancy haircut to have a job that paid little more that minimum wage.
Under cover?
Vashon was full of Witches.
He had a friend with the Bureau in DC. Last thing they needed was someone from the FBI superfreak department sniffing around and uncovering the Unveiling before they were ready to go live. But that was why they had people from every agency and every level of public office on board.
Or, she could just be what she said. Hunters were defenders of the innocent, those who fought the darkness, so his grandmother’s stories said. It might be hard to simply set up shop in the twenty-first century as a lone hero or bounty hunter.
The officer handed him back her ID and her gun permit and whispered something in his ear.
“Problem, officer?” All she needed was a piece of gum. That woman was seven kinds of trouble.
“I’m sorry, Miss Richards, but I’ll have to bring you down to the station. You’re not in trouble.” Yet.
Sighing, she blew her auburn bangs off her forehead as she checked her phone. She wore a Red Sox hat. “They always do. But I have to be at work at 6.”
“It shouldn’t take too long.” Hopefully. Depending on why she was really in Seattle and what Mac and Frank thought of the situation. What time was it in DC again?
Friday, April 10, 2009
Flash Fiction Friday -- Moon River
Another character study for you. Enjoy and have a great weekend.
Moon River
© 2009 Suzanne Lazear
Thomas Murray was in the small general store that passed as gas station, grocery store, and gossip central for the tiny Colorado mountain town of Moon River. It was a peculiar little town, but then most of the folks were peculiar.
They also all knew each other. So when the very young woman with the long raven hair walked in, he took note. So did everyone else in the store. Moon River was not easy to get to and not a place people found by accident.
Either way he needed to tell his father. Wes Murray was the “leader” of this town. There were only a few reasons why a stranger would be in town. Most of them were not good.
“Excuse me.” Bypassing everyone, including the man at the counter, the woman went right to him. Her eyes were a startling robin’s egg blue. Her long blue dress had a tin whistle sticking out of the pocket. She had no purse, no bag. He heard no car pull up.
She’d come on foot.
Moon River was a haven for misfits. The slim and rather beautiful woman had that air of desperation that unfortunately was not uncommon for women who sought them out. He could see it in her eyes, and the way she her shoulders rounded as she approached him.
Someone had hurt her, beaten her down, abused her spirit, and probably her body as well. His Wolf growled. He had a strong urge to protect. There was something about her that needed protecting. Was she submissive?
But who in their right mind would beat a submissive wolf? True submissive wolves were rare and the instinct to protect them was strong. Submissive wolves could fight, protect themselves, but they didn’t feel the need to the way dominant wolves did. They helped bring balance and unity to the pack.
“Can I help you?” He had the urge to call her child. She didn’t look that much younger than he did. Thomas knew first hand that looks were deceiving. Still there was something about her that was just young.
“Perhaps you can help me.” Her Irish brogue was very distinctive. Someone had traveled a long way. Why? “I am looking for a woman named Avril.”
“Why?” That made him freeze. Everyone else in the store froze too, even those who were human, not wolf. Avril was their pride and joy. Everyone would protect her. But Thomas could not sense any danger from this slip of a girl. Neither could his wolf.
Then he realized something. She was not a Wolf. She wasn’t human either.
“Avril was my roommate at Uni. I am passing though and would like to see her.”
Passing though? No one passed though Moon River. Not on foot anyway. Or by car. If she wasn’t a Wolf, or Human, what was she? She smelled of Ireland. Of salt, like the ocean and of peat. He could hear music in her voice. There were also the faintest traces of wild magic.
Interesting.
“Why?” She clearly was not Texan and there were no Irish in that Texas pack that had hurt Avril so badly.
His intense questions made her squirm, cower almost. Her eyes dropped, her voice quieted. He had scared her. But she didn’t move. “I willna hurt your brother’s mate Thomas Murray. I simply want to see her. Robby can accompany her.”
He was stunned. She knew who he was. She knew that Avril was Rob’s mate.
“If you question my motives you are welcome to call Finn Gerrity. He will tell you I mean her no harm.”
Finn Gerrity? She had Finn Gerrity for a reference? The ancient Irishman ruled the packs of Ireland with an iron fist, with the help of his brother and sister. They had held Ireland for centuries. Many centuries.
Wait a moment. The informant who tipped them off to the terrible situation in Texas, the one that led Rob to Avril, had been Shamus Gerrity, Finn’s brother. Has this mystery woman somehow been part of this?
But how was she affiliated with a wolf pack?
“Aye, I know yer secret too.” Her voice was still a whisper. “I willna tell.”
She was afraid. The wolf wanted to comfort her. She was awfully pretty. She could have been downright magical if she didn’t look like a beaten puppy.
“You know an awful lot about us.” Again, he bit his tongue to keep from calling her child. Avril was quite young, but there was something almost child-like about this girl. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Caít Coinín”
Coinín? Who had the last name of Rabbit? He, his father, and Rob, left Ireland a very long time ago. But he still remembered his Gaelic. It came in handy for covert conversations.
“Well Caít Coinín, I am not confirming that there is anyone by that name here. But if there were, what makes you think Avril would want to see anyone she knew from Texas.”
Those blue eyes gleamed, and a slight smile played on her lips. “I dinna say I went to Uni in Texas.” Then her mood changed. “But I do not know if she would wish to see me. After all I abandoned her when she needed me most.”
The ramifications of those statements.
“What does this roommate of yours look like?” He smelled no lie. Only regret and fear.
The woman took a breath and closed her eyes. “I knew her as Avril Bennett of Montana. She was a history major. Her hair is like thirty-year old single cask Scotch, in a cut crystal glass held to the light. She always wore it in a single braid which nearly reached her arse. She had eyes like peat, and freckles on her nose. Her laugh was like music. She was taller than me, but just as slight.” She opened her eyes and tilted her head as if to say enough?
That was Avril. But she was Rob’s mate, and he was going to think twice before taking anyone to her. Anyone who knew Rob would think twice before acting against his mate. Actually, anyone who knew Wes would think twice before messing with anyone in his pack. Avril was also…special.
Something about Caít was downright gentle, putting him at ease. The wolf wanted to curl up at her feet and let her stroke him. Actually the man would let her stroke him. Her fingers were long and nimble. Musician’s hands. That made sense considering the whistle in her pocket. Now that could make his Da happy. Not only were they a pack of misfits, they were a pack of musicians and artists.
“I promise I willna hurt her.” Caít sounded so forlorn…defeated. “Call her. If she doesn’t wish to see me I will leave.”
How? Was she going to fly away? Maybe turn into a rabbit? But he didn’t smell rabbit or any other animal on her. Also, it would be downright stupid for a rabbit to visit a wolf pack. Wolves ate rabbits.
The wolf perked at the word leave. He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. “That sounds fair.” Whipping out his phone he didn’t call Avril, he called Rob. “Rob, ask Avril to describe her roommate in college?”
He could hear Avril’s voice. “Which one?”
“Caít.”
That got a girlish squeal that made him wince. Avril was a very young wolf and hadn’t leaned much control yet. “First of all, it’s not Caít unless there’s a tin whistle in her pocket. She has long black hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and sings constantly, and she’s Irish. Did I pass?”
“She wants to see you. Do you want to see her?”
“Hell yeah. Tell her I even have pints.”
Thomas could see that even though Caít was not a Wolf, she could hear the phone conversation. Pints? Of what?
“Where do you wish to meet here?”
That got a snort. “Just bring her here.” Her mate made a noise. “Oh, back off you possessive wolves. Caít is the gentlest soul I know.”
His wolf sniffed in agreement.
“So when is she coming? I can’t believe that bastard Dane let her come see me. I hope this means he’s dead.”
Who was Dane? By the way Caít shuddered when Avril mentioned Dane’s death, Tomas wondered if he was the one who had hurt her. It certainly wouldn’t be Finn Gerrity.
“She’s standing in front of me.”
“Good. I’ll make lunch.” The line went dead.
Putting away his phone, he sighed softly. Avril was adjusting to life in Moon River just fine. At first they weren’t so sure even Moon River could help her. But Rob had gone a long way in repairing the damage that had been done to her.
Sending his father a brief text to alert him of a stranger in Moon River, he turned to Caít. “She wants to see you. May I show you the way?”
There was still a way look in her eyes and stance, as if she were expecting him to hurt her any moment. “Please.”
Thomas led her to his truck. She froze. “I’m not going to hurt you, Caít. You’re as skittish as a rabbit.”
He shouldn’t have said that. The look on her face was terrified. Her shoulders and eyes drooped. If she were a wolf, her tail would be between her legs.
“I am nothing.”
She certainly was something. Would Avril know?
“It’s better to drive. But if you’re up to it, we can walk.” She didn’t look like she could.
Something flashed in her eyes. Was it defiance? “I am capable of walking further than you might think.”
Well then.
Moon River
© 2009 Suzanne Lazear
Thomas Murray was in the small general store that passed as gas station, grocery store, and gossip central for the tiny Colorado mountain town of Moon River. It was a peculiar little town, but then most of the folks were peculiar.
They also all knew each other. So when the very young woman with the long raven hair walked in, he took note. So did everyone else in the store. Moon River was not easy to get to and not a place people found by accident.
Either way he needed to tell his father. Wes Murray was the “leader” of this town. There were only a few reasons why a stranger would be in town. Most of them were not good.
“Excuse me.” Bypassing everyone, including the man at the counter, the woman went right to him. Her eyes were a startling robin’s egg blue. Her long blue dress had a tin whistle sticking out of the pocket. She had no purse, no bag. He heard no car pull up.
She’d come on foot.
Moon River was a haven for misfits. The slim and rather beautiful woman had that air of desperation that unfortunately was not uncommon for women who sought them out. He could see it in her eyes, and the way she her shoulders rounded as she approached him.
Someone had hurt her, beaten her down, abused her spirit, and probably her body as well. His Wolf growled. He had a strong urge to protect. There was something about her that needed protecting. Was she submissive?
But who in their right mind would beat a submissive wolf? True submissive wolves were rare and the instinct to protect them was strong. Submissive wolves could fight, protect themselves, but they didn’t feel the need to the way dominant wolves did. They helped bring balance and unity to the pack.
“Can I help you?” He had the urge to call her child. She didn’t look that much younger than he did. Thomas knew first hand that looks were deceiving. Still there was something about her that was just young.
“Perhaps you can help me.” Her Irish brogue was very distinctive. Someone had traveled a long way. Why? “I am looking for a woman named Avril.”
“Why?” That made him freeze. Everyone else in the store froze too, even those who were human, not wolf. Avril was their pride and joy. Everyone would protect her. But Thomas could not sense any danger from this slip of a girl. Neither could his wolf.
Then he realized something. She was not a Wolf. She wasn’t human either.
“Avril was my roommate at Uni. I am passing though and would like to see her.”
Passing though? No one passed though Moon River. Not on foot anyway. Or by car. If she wasn’t a Wolf, or Human, what was she? She smelled of Ireland. Of salt, like the ocean and of peat. He could hear music in her voice. There were also the faintest traces of wild magic.
Interesting.
“Why?” She clearly was not Texan and there were no Irish in that Texas pack that had hurt Avril so badly.
His intense questions made her squirm, cower almost. Her eyes dropped, her voice quieted. He had scared her. But she didn’t move. “I willna hurt your brother’s mate Thomas Murray. I simply want to see her. Robby can accompany her.”
He was stunned. She knew who he was. She knew that Avril was Rob’s mate.
“If you question my motives you are welcome to call Finn Gerrity. He will tell you I mean her no harm.”
Finn Gerrity? She had Finn Gerrity for a reference? The ancient Irishman ruled the packs of Ireland with an iron fist, with the help of his brother and sister. They had held Ireland for centuries. Many centuries.
Wait a moment. The informant who tipped them off to the terrible situation in Texas, the one that led Rob to Avril, had been Shamus Gerrity, Finn’s brother. Has this mystery woman somehow been part of this?
But how was she affiliated with a wolf pack?
“Aye, I know yer secret too.” Her voice was still a whisper. “I willna tell.”
She was afraid. The wolf wanted to comfort her. She was awfully pretty. She could have been downright magical if she didn’t look like a beaten puppy.
“You know an awful lot about us.” Again, he bit his tongue to keep from calling her child. Avril was quite young, but there was something almost child-like about this girl. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Caít Coinín”
Coinín? Who had the last name of Rabbit? He, his father, and Rob, left Ireland a very long time ago. But he still remembered his Gaelic. It came in handy for covert conversations.
“Well Caít Coinín, I am not confirming that there is anyone by that name here. But if there were, what makes you think Avril would want to see anyone she knew from Texas.”
Those blue eyes gleamed, and a slight smile played on her lips. “I dinna say I went to Uni in Texas.” Then her mood changed. “But I do not know if she would wish to see me. After all I abandoned her when she needed me most.”
The ramifications of those statements.
“What does this roommate of yours look like?” He smelled no lie. Only regret and fear.
The woman took a breath and closed her eyes. “I knew her as Avril Bennett of Montana. She was a history major. Her hair is like thirty-year old single cask Scotch, in a cut crystal glass held to the light. She always wore it in a single braid which nearly reached her arse. She had eyes like peat, and freckles on her nose. Her laugh was like music. She was taller than me, but just as slight.” She opened her eyes and tilted her head as if to say enough?
That was Avril. But she was Rob’s mate, and he was going to think twice before taking anyone to her. Anyone who knew Rob would think twice before acting against his mate. Actually, anyone who knew Wes would think twice before messing with anyone in his pack. Avril was also…special.
Something about Caít was downright gentle, putting him at ease. The wolf wanted to curl up at her feet and let her stroke him. Actually the man would let her stroke him. Her fingers were long and nimble. Musician’s hands. That made sense considering the whistle in her pocket. Now that could make his Da happy. Not only were they a pack of misfits, they were a pack of musicians and artists.
“I promise I willna hurt her.” Caít sounded so forlorn…defeated. “Call her. If she doesn’t wish to see me I will leave.”
How? Was she going to fly away? Maybe turn into a rabbit? But he didn’t smell rabbit or any other animal on her. Also, it would be downright stupid for a rabbit to visit a wolf pack. Wolves ate rabbits.
The wolf perked at the word leave. He wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. “That sounds fair.” Whipping out his phone he didn’t call Avril, he called Rob. “Rob, ask Avril to describe her roommate in college?”
He could hear Avril’s voice. “Which one?”
“Caít.”
That got a girlish squeal that made him wince. Avril was a very young wolf and hadn’t leaned much control yet. “First of all, it’s not Caít unless there’s a tin whistle in her pocket. She has long black hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and sings constantly, and she’s Irish. Did I pass?”
“She wants to see you. Do you want to see her?”
“Hell yeah. Tell her I even have pints.”
Thomas could see that even though Caít was not a Wolf, she could hear the phone conversation. Pints? Of what?
“Where do you wish to meet here?”
That got a snort. “Just bring her here.” Her mate made a noise. “Oh, back off you possessive wolves. Caít is the gentlest soul I know.”
His wolf sniffed in agreement.
“So when is she coming? I can’t believe that bastard Dane let her come see me. I hope this means he’s dead.”
Who was Dane? By the way Caít shuddered when Avril mentioned Dane’s death, Tomas wondered if he was the one who had hurt her. It certainly wouldn’t be Finn Gerrity.
“She’s standing in front of me.”
“Good. I’ll make lunch.” The line went dead.
Putting away his phone, he sighed softly. Avril was adjusting to life in Moon River just fine. At first they weren’t so sure even Moon River could help her. But Rob had gone a long way in repairing the damage that had been done to her.
Sending his father a brief text to alert him of a stranger in Moon River, he turned to Caít. “She wants to see you. May I show you the way?”
There was still a way look in her eyes and stance, as if she were expecting him to hurt her any moment. “Please.”
Thomas led her to his truck. She froze. “I’m not going to hurt you, Caít. You’re as skittish as a rabbit.”
He shouldn’t have said that. The look on her face was terrified. Her shoulders and eyes drooped. If she were a wolf, her tail would be between her legs.
“I am nothing.”
She certainly was something. Would Avril know?
“It’s better to drive. But if you’re up to it, we can walk.” She didn’t look like she could.
Something flashed in her eyes. Was it defiance? “I am capable of walking further than you might think.”
Well then.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Flash Fiction Friday -- The Farmer's Market
Here's a story I wrote long ago. Enjoy.
The Farmer’s Market
©2009 Suzanne Lazear
Colin stared at the blonde woman at the farmer’s market as she passed them yet again. Fortunately, his girlfriend, Marissa was busy looking at bunches of flowers.
He wasn’t sure what kept drawing his attention to this mysterious blonde. She was of average height, slender, but not super thin. She wasn’t particularly curvy or well endowed. She was pretty, but not beautiful, though her eyes hid behind trendy sunglasses. Blonde hair was still damp from her morning shower. Even her clothes weren’t particularly noteworthy, or well put together.
The only thing remarkable was the old, intricate Celtic knot necklace that adorned her slender neck on a ratty black cord. It was something his sister in law Kathleen would adore.
As he and Marissa went from booth to booth, he kept seeing her and being compelled to look at her. He realized that whatever was during him wasn’t physical. It was this invisible sparkle, a joie de vive so thick it was nearly visible. Her graceful movements were like a dance as her lithe figured chased the child around the market.
Marissa followed his stare and he blushed. “Oh, what a cute little girl,” she gushed, indicating the tot holding the blonde woman’s hand. The tot was a wee fairy princess and reminded him of his niece Fiona. The tot had a mop of unruly blonde curls and was wearing a frilly dress and shiny black shoes. The woman lifted the little girl onto a pony and gave her a kiss.
Where was the husband? A rather large ring adorned her finger and happy scenes like this always had a husband. Sure enough, a man appeared and was taking pictures of the fairy tot on the horse, then gave the woman a kiss.
Colin briefly wondered what she saw in him. He was just a few inches taller than she was. He was of unremarkable looks, though he hid under a hat and glasses and had that paunch sported by so many middle-aged daddies.
Marissa pulled Colin away to look at some handmade jewelry. But he couldn’t help looking for the blonde woman. There was some inexplicable magnetism that pulled him towards her as if she was his north.
He heard clapping and turned around to see the wee fairy tot dancing to an Irish band that was performing at the market.
The little girl pulled her mama’s hand. “Dance mama.” The little girl’s grin could melt the heard of a snow queen.
The blonde woman handed the husband her parcels, purse, jacket, and phone. She then removed her sunglasses.
Colin was drawn to those pools of blue like a moth to a flame. You could drown in those eyes. Those eyes were wasted hidden behind glasses, they were easily her best feature. Fort a brief moment she looked familiar, but she was probably just one of those people who always reminded you of someone else.
She handed those sunglasses to the husband, who began to look annoyed. The fairy tot and her mama took their positions and the blonde woman began to dance. The music was just a simple Irish jig, but the woman made magic of the basic steps. He was not watching someone who danced for fun, or who’d danced as a child. She danced with the grace of a professional.
The music changed into the 4/4 rhythm of a reel and with it the woman’s steps changed to match. The husband looked embarrassed now as more people gathered around to watch the woman dance.
Her steps became more complicated and she leaped with the grace of a gazelle and the power of a large cat. Her dancing was pure magic, so thick, he could feel it, and he wasn’t nearly as powerful as some of his brothers. Now he realized what it was that made her so remarkable, so special, and it made him burn with desire.
The music ended and she bowed to the musicians.
“Are you done showing off now?” The husband thrust her things back at her. She nodded and accepted the things, giving the band a wave and a wistful glace. It was apparent to Colin that she wanted to dance some more. Before she put her glasses back on she looked right at Colin and smiled. He nearly fell over with the force of the connection between the two of them.
Colin burned with desire for this married mother who he’d never met. He wanted, no needed, this woman as his own. He watched with supreme longing as the little family moved on.
Marissa’s attention reverted back to him. “Can we go? I’d like to go check out this row of thrift stores someone was telling me about.”
Colin sighed inwardly. Flea markets, thrift stores, and farmers markets were not his idea of a vacation. He had agreed to go on vacation to Florida with his girlfriend as a test to see if he should take it to the next level. She was a nice girl, but more chemistry passed between him and the bonnie dancer in that one glace that he and Marissa in their entire relationship.
He let Marissa lead him away and with a backward glance seared for the blonde woman. He didn’t see her or the fairy tot. What a waste. The dancer had such sparkle, such talent and she was married to some clod who didn’t understand how special she was. He still couldn’t shake that he knew her from somewhere, but it was probably that he just wished he knew her.
There was no doubt in his mind that she was a woman worth fighting for. If he had not been with Marissa he’d be tempted to track her down and steal her away from the husband. He’d whisk her and her fairy tot back to Snowblossom Point where he’d love and appreciate her the way she should be. Her talents could be put to good use and the fairy tot would have plenty of playmates.
He sighed again. This was the wrong century for wife stealing. All he could do was silently wish her the best of luck and pray that their paths crossed again some day.
The Farmer’s Market
©2009 Suzanne Lazear
Colin stared at the blonde woman at the farmer’s market as she passed them yet again. Fortunately, his girlfriend, Marissa was busy looking at bunches of flowers.
He wasn’t sure what kept drawing his attention to this mysterious blonde. She was of average height, slender, but not super thin. She wasn’t particularly curvy or well endowed. She was pretty, but not beautiful, though her eyes hid behind trendy sunglasses. Blonde hair was still damp from her morning shower. Even her clothes weren’t particularly noteworthy, or well put together.
The only thing remarkable was the old, intricate Celtic knot necklace that adorned her slender neck on a ratty black cord. It was something his sister in law Kathleen would adore.
As he and Marissa went from booth to booth, he kept seeing her and being compelled to look at her. He realized that whatever was during him wasn’t physical. It was this invisible sparkle, a joie de vive so thick it was nearly visible. Her graceful movements were like a dance as her lithe figured chased the child around the market.
Marissa followed his stare and he blushed. “Oh, what a cute little girl,” she gushed, indicating the tot holding the blonde woman’s hand. The tot was a wee fairy princess and reminded him of his niece Fiona. The tot had a mop of unruly blonde curls and was wearing a frilly dress and shiny black shoes. The woman lifted the little girl onto a pony and gave her a kiss.
Where was the husband? A rather large ring adorned her finger and happy scenes like this always had a husband. Sure enough, a man appeared and was taking pictures of the fairy tot on the horse, then gave the woman a kiss.
Colin briefly wondered what she saw in him. He was just a few inches taller than she was. He was of unremarkable looks, though he hid under a hat and glasses and had that paunch sported by so many middle-aged daddies.
Marissa pulled Colin away to look at some handmade jewelry. But he couldn’t help looking for the blonde woman. There was some inexplicable magnetism that pulled him towards her as if she was his north.
He heard clapping and turned around to see the wee fairy tot dancing to an Irish band that was performing at the market.
The little girl pulled her mama’s hand. “Dance mama.” The little girl’s grin could melt the heard of a snow queen.
The blonde woman handed the husband her parcels, purse, jacket, and phone. She then removed her sunglasses.
Colin was drawn to those pools of blue like a moth to a flame. You could drown in those eyes. Those eyes were wasted hidden behind glasses, they were easily her best feature. Fort a brief moment she looked familiar, but she was probably just one of those people who always reminded you of someone else.
She handed those sunglasses to the husband, who began to look annoyed. The fairy tot and her mama took their positions and the blonde woman began to dance. The music was just a simple Irish jig, but the woman made magic of the basic steps. He was not watching someone who danced for fun, or who’d danced as a child. She danced with the grace of a professional.
The music changed into the 4/4 rhythm of a reel and with it the woman’s steps changed to match. The husband looked embarrassed now as more people gathered around to watch the woman dance.
Her steps became more complicated and she leaped with the grace of a gazelle and the power of a large cat. Her dancing was pure magic, so thick, he could feel it, and he wasn’t nearly as powerful as some of his brothers. Now he realized what it was that made her so remarkable, so special, and it made him burn with desire.
The music ended and she bowed to the musicians.
“Are you done showing off now?” The husband thrust her things back at her. She nodded and accepted the things, giving the band a wave and a wistful glace. It was apparent to Colin that she wanted to dance some more. Before she put her glasses back on she looked right at Colin and smiled. He nearly fell over with the force of the connection between the two of them.
Colin burned with desire for this married mother who he’d never met. He wanted, no needed, this woman as his own. He watched with supreme longing as the little family moved on.
Marissa’s attention reverted back to him. “Can we go? I’d like to go check out this row of thrift stores someone was telling me about.”
Colin sighed inwardly. Flea markets, thrift stores, and farmers markets were not his idea of a vacation. He had agreed to go on vacation to Florida with his girlfriend as a test to see if he should take it to the next level. She was a nice girl, but more chemistry passed between him and the bonnie dancer in that one glace that he and Marissa in their entire relationship.
He let Marissa lead him away and with a backward glance seared for the blonde woman. He didn’t see her or the fairy tot. What a waste. The dancer had such sparkle, such talent and she was married to some clod who didn’t understand how special she was. He still couldn’t shake that he knew her from somewhere, but it was probably that he just wished he knew her.
There was no doubt in his mind that she was a woman worth fighting for. If he had not been with Marissa he’d be tempted to track her down and steal her away from the husband. He’d whisk her and her fairy tot back to Snowblossom Point where he’d love and appreciate her the way she should be. Her talents could be put to good use and the fairy tot would have plenty of playmates.
He sighed again. This was the wrong century for wife stealing. All he could do was silently wish her the best of luck and pray that their paths crossed again some day.
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