"…his stories are always sharp and compact and interesting." ——Angel Martinez "(One of) the hottest authors in the independent horror scene…" —-Hellbound Books
Every week we post six lines from a work of ours, a work-in-progress or published or a recommendation of someone else’s work with at least one LGBT character. Posted at Rainbow Snippets here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/963484217054974
Laying there on one of the metal benches was a young man, probably twenty-something, reddish hair and beard, sleeping soundly.
“He looks nice in those jeans,” Craig whispered.
“I don’t think he can hear you.” Jack said. “I don’t think anybody can hear us right now. Look.”
Jack pointed at the shop the bench was in front of. The bench reflected, but the cute redhead sleeping on it did not.
Here’s another snippet:
“Remember that funny feeling when we turned the corner? Like an extra wind or a change in, well, feeling? Kind of wavering?”
Craig shook his head.
“Remember the hedge of thorns around the palace in Sleeping Beauty?” Jack said. “I think this is like that.”
Craig stared back at the man asleep on the bench. This was crazy but Jack had always been able to see around corners, with what Jack’s Irish Grandmother called “Second Sight.”
“Okay, here he is,” Jack said as they turned the corner on the downtown sidewalk.
Laying there on one of the metal benches was a young man, probably twenty-something, reddish hair and beard, sleeping soundly.
“He looks nice in those jeans,” Craig whispered.
“I don’t think he can hear you.” Jack said. “I don’t think anybody can hear us right now. Look.”
Jack pointed at the shop the bench was in front of. The bench reflected, but the cute redhead sleeping on it did not.
“And look at all the people just walking around him, like they’re avoiding this little area but not seeing the guy. Or us probably.”
Craig stared at Jack. “What do you mean?”
“Remember that funny feeling when we turned the corner? Like an extra wind or a change in, well, feeling? Kind of wavering?”
Craig shook his head.
“Remember the hedge of thorns around the palace in Sleeping Beauty?” Jack said. “I think this is like that.”
Craig stared back at the man asleep on the bench. This was crazy but Jack had always been able to see around corners, with what Jack’s Irish Grandmother called “Second Sight.”
“So what’s going on here?” Craig asked.
“Sleeping Beauty,” Jack said. “I think he has to be kissed. There’s some kind of a curse.”
“So, this guy needs a princess?” Craig said with a shrug.
“Uh, no. I think he needs a prince,” Jack said.
“Where is he going to get one of those?” Craig asked. “England? Charles isn’t a prince anymore.”
“Yeah, but you are,” Jack said.
“Huh?” Craig gave him a blank stare.
“Remember your last name,” Craig said. “Herceg. You told me once it’s Hungarian for Prince.”
“Oh yeah, I did.” Craig said.
“That’s why I brought you here,” Jack said.
Craig stared back and forth from Jack to the man on the bench. He gave a What The Hey shrug and bent down, trying not to fall over.
He kissed the man.
A moment later, the man’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled.
Again this month, unless noted most of these are short stories.
Re-read Asimov’s “Where No Man Persueth.”
Listened to a reading (on You Tube) of Mike Resnick’s story “The Wizard Of West 34th Street.” Posted it for Resnick’s Birthday. (I met him once!) A very good story.
Read several stories from the collection “Dracula’s Brood,” edited by Richard Dalby (1987, Barnes and Noble Books.) “Another Squaw,” by E. Heron-Allen. Aylmer Vance and the Vampire” by Alice and Claude Askew, and “The Feather Pillow,” a horrific tale by Horacio Quiroga, a South American writer I had never heard of. All the stories in the anthology are lesser-known vampire tales by authors writing in the later Victorian era and right before World War One.
Read Fritz Leiber’s “The Two Best Thieves in Lankhmar” which actually has some LGBT representation but if I revealed more it would give away some of the story’s surprises (and the LGBT characters aren’t the surprise!) Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser are again their own worst enemies and to whom exactly does the title refer?
Also on the Leiber read front I read another of his Changewar stories: “Damnation Morning.”
Read “The Refugees,” a fun Dr. Poggioli mystery by T. S. Stribling. Who poisoned the wine? I actually managed to guess part of the solution to this near-100 year-old story.
FINALLY read Lord Dunsany’s often-anthologized “The Two Bottles Of Relish.” The set-up is a Sherlock Holmes-type story with the narrator (“Smethers”) doing the legwork. I half-guessed what was going on until the brilliant last line! (I think he wrote at least a couple more Smethers stories.)
I started reading Alan Napier’s posthumous memoir “Not Just Batman’s Butler,” finished by a writer who often interviewed him. It comes off like Napier is sitting down with the reader after dinner and spinning tales about his life over brandy or tea.
Read Kaje Harper’s weekly offerings (never miss those!)
Re-read Bruce Coville’s fun story “Am I Blue?” to post snippets on “Rainbow Snippets.”
Totally neglected Poe again. I’ll make up for that next month!
Did the weekly Friday Flash Fiction stories and the monthly Flash Fiction Draw story.
Wrote up at least one Queer Sci Fi column for later. I have a nice backlog of them now.
Wrote up a couple of essays I posted.
A couple of oddball things happened to me (maybe just coincidence or carelessness) but I think I am meant to finish “Love’s Not Time’s Fool” before anything else. We’ll see how that goes, I did work on it a bit. Sporadically.
Went through my NOTES file and pulled out two or three stories I ought to finish, including “Going Across the Bay To See the Hippies” and “In this Corner, Rodrigo Rodriguiz.” Wrote just a bit on the latter.
Also did a little plotting out on both of the above.
Probably did more reading than writing this time around but that’s not bad!
My friend J. Scott Coatsworth has posted in a column, a list of seven things, as he put it “Seven good things in my life that make life worth living.” He was commenting that this year has already seen the death of several of their friends and it isn’t even April yet.
The last few years being the total wrench that they have been for me, losing my Husband, my Mom & Dad (in their 90s, but still) I’ve also found good things. Reasons to be optimistic. Yes, I get down but I don’t stay there very long.
MY FAMILY:
I was luckier than I had any right to be with my Mom & Dad. Loving, supportive, way over-protective but always there for me. They were proud of me and largely in good health for 90 years each. Likewise I got to know most of my older relatives and my Aunt and Uncle who are now also gone but their memory is a good one that fills the summers and holidays of my younger years.
MY EXTENDED FAMILY:
My Honorary Brother Rick and I unofficially adopted each other 36 years ago and we have been together ever since. He and Amy have welcomed me into their home, let me be the Uncle to their kids and grandkids (!!!) and the wonder of a new birth all of which made a year that could have been very bad very sweet.
THE READING AND WRITING:
I’ve wanted to do something creative since I was a little kid. The fact that I’ve worked at it, gotten better at it and seem to have a career at it is something that still amazes me. I have officially published forty stories in magazines, anthologies and e-zines as well as having posted almost 350 weekly flash fiction stories since 2016. I have a career and not only have I impressed some people I should be jealous of, I marvel at it.
And I have my books and the library and I have been not only reading more but blogging about it.
FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD:
I live in Wichita, Kansas a city where you can get about any kind of food you want. And I know some of the basics of cooking and am learning how to do more. (Darryl showed me a little; he would be proud.)
MY FRIENDS:
When Darryl died almost a year ago I felt lost and I realized I didn’t have any friends I see in town regularly. So, I started going out more (not dating, hanging at the library) and I also realized that I have a lot of caring friends online. I also made a new friend or two at least one of which I shoot the breeze with online every day. Sometimes, the internet can be impersonal and hostile. Sometimes it can be warm and loving.
MEETING SOME OF MY INSPIRATIONS:
Before I wanted to be a fiction writer, I wanted to be a stand-up comic. I started appearing in local clubs toward the end of my College days with an act full of topical comedy songs influenced by Mark Russell and Tom Lehrer and not only did I meet Russell a couple of times I submitted some material to him a few years ago. He liked it, but he had retired by then. Still, a nice word from one of your heroes.
And I was thinking I wanted to write science-fiction when I started reading some of the anthologies edited by Mike Resnick (as well as his own stories.) I got to meet Resnick at a convention in 2017 and he signed one of his books surprised that anybody had it!
DARRYL:
Ever supportive, ever loving, I am blessed that most of the memories of my late husband are good and make me smile. I loved him and we were blissfully happy to have known each other for fifteen years, actually together for about twelve and a half, married for six (we felt married right after he moved in back in 2010.) While I get sad that he is not around I still laugh at some of the things we used to laugh at.
THE KITTIES WITHOUT PITY:
And an Eighth thing: I share my house and life with “The Kids,” my three nearly year-old cats. They are sweet, snuggle in my bed at night and have been ripping through the house in the last hour.
Every week we post six lines from a work of ours, a work-in-progress or published or a recommendation of someone else’s work with at least one LGBT character. Posted at Rainbow Snippets here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/963484217054974
Wearing my Green as I type this up this weekend. For this week, a little more from J. Scott Coatsworth’s new book “The Hencha Queen.” https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com/book/the-hencha-queen/ Here we see some of Silya’s coronation to the rank of queen of the Hencha hive-mind, the human point of contact for them.
Silya shifted uncomfortably on the hard seat of the throne. Her cobalt-blue robes itched and her muscles ached from the hours she’d spent on the training field with Hesen. The Temple’s swordmaster had pushed her as hard as when she’d been an initiate and she had the bruises to show it.
“And why shouldn’t I?” Even the Queen needed to stay in fighting form. Still, her aches and pains argued for a little relief.
The ceremony goes on, but not quite according to plan…
“By the power vested in me as First Aide, I hereby name you the Hencha Queen. Seventh in the Royal Line. Sister Tela, the staff please…”
She stood, took the black staff and lifted it into the air, her various aches and bruises vanishing in an instant. It was lighter than she expected yet filled with the weight of years. It felt alien to her touch, setting up a strange buzzing in her arm and yet it felt comfortable as if it had always been a part of her.
Just a little more…
Someone gasped again. She opened her eyes. She had grown. Or the room had shrunk.
The Sisters drew back in fright, their faces washed in blue by the light that emanated from her.
She held out her arms and they were black as the staff, gnarled like wood.
A flight of wisps appeared from the doorway, dancing toward her like embers from a fire. They encircled her, spinning around her like bright blue sparks. She felt alive and electric.
Scott can describe magic and magical objects in a way that brings back the wonder that has been deadened by dozens of bad knockoffs of bad movies. “Hencha Queen” is good.
Next week, something unexpected. Meaning I’m not sure what I’ll put up! —-jeff
Marcus stared at the audience through the little opening in the stage curtain.
“Holy mackerel! There’s a crowd out there!” he breathed.
“Don’t look through that!” Erik said, slapping his arm. “Someone’ll see you.”
Millington College was doing “The Two Noble Kinsmen,” for their Spring Drama Production. It was, (as the posters put it) “A Shakespeare Play Probably Not By Shakespeare.” William Shakespeare probably had written some of it, with most of the rest being written by someone named John Fletcher.
Marcus Wayland and Erik Castaigne had met their Junior year when they had bit parts in another production, and had dated (discreetly, Erik wasn’t out) since last spring. Now they both had the leads in “Two Noble Kinsmen,” playing two best buddies whose friendship “hits some big bumps” Erik had said.
“Yeah, I get the girl but I get killed accidentally,” Marcus said to his Mom.
“Oh, good,” she’d said. “You’re more into boys, aren’t you?”
Erik sighed. The hat with the feathers he was wearing felt silly. He had it pinned to his hair so it wouldn’t fall off.
“First night,” Marcus said.
“Yeah, glad the rehearsals went well,” Erik said.
“Yeah. Hey, come here. I gotta use the bathroom,” Marcus said.
“You need my help to use the bathroom?” Erik said, following him.
“No, I need something else.” They walked back around to the ancient men’s room and stepped in. A couple of stalls and a urinal and it was empty. Marcus blocked the door shut, grabbed Erik and kissed him.
“The play doesn’t end well for these guys, but at least we get a happy ending,” Marcus said.
“Or a beginning.” Erik added.
—end—
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Not too long this week. Wanted to avoid all the cliches about theater stories. Someday I’ll write a good haunted stage story although it’s hard to top Fritz Leiber’s “Four Ghosts In Hamlet” or “The Tale Of The Walking Shadow” from the old “Are You Afraid Of the Dark?” series. —–jeff
My friend J. Scott Coatsworth is releasing Book Three in his Tharassas Cycle: “The Hencha Queen” blends science fiction, fantasy, epic worldbuilding and LGBT characters. Scott’s work has led to comparisons to Tolkien and Heinlein. But I should let him tell you, it is his story after all…
SILYA COMES INTO HER OWN, BUT WILL SHE BE ENOUGH?
Silya finally has everything she always wanted. She’s the Hencha Queen, head of the Temple, and is working to master her newfound talents. So why does the world pick now to fall apart?
Her once-nemesis Raven is off riding dragons, and their mutual friend (and her ex) Aik is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, a new threat menaces the Heartland from the East, and if she can’t convince a reluctant Gullton city council to prepare for the worst, she may lose everyone and everything she’s ever cared about.
As she uses her magic-like abilities, wit and sheer determination to try to save the city, she’s joined by Raven and his new friends. Will their help tip the scales? And will they finally find out what happened to Aik as a dark storm threatens to sweep them all away?
Forget messy. Things just got apocalyptic.
Series Blurb:
The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.
First Two Books On Sale (& Get a Free Book)
Use the included tharassas-sale.jpg graphic with this section.
Books 1 & 2 are on sale through March 31st for just 99¢ each (eBooks, all vendors). And if you buy one (or all three) of the main series books, email scott@jscottcoatsworth.com</a> and let him know and he’ll send you a free copy of Tales From Tharassas, the prequel.
A sharp crack filled the wine cellar. Kerrick swung the heavy mallet back and then assailed the flopwood boards that blocked the tunnel entrance again. The ancient wood splintered under the blow, sending shards clattering across the stone-paved floor.
It felt good to work out his frustrations. Still, the stubborn wood held out against his assault.
He rested the mallet on the black-tiled stone floor, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Even after a hundred years, the barrier was strong. He’d tried to pry the boards out of the solid stone, but they’d been fastened in too tightly. Brute force it is.
“You’re doing great!” Cor’Lea’s voice was artificially bright, and she was as tall as he was, maybe a little taller, peering over his shoulder at the sealed tunnel entrance.
Silya had tasked her with bringing him down here to check out these hidden caverns under the Temple, in preparation for the coming war. Important, sure, but also clearly an excuse to get him out from underfoot while she prepared for her official Raising.
He grunted. “Thanks. These boards are hard as iron.” And hard as Silya’s will.
One day things would be different between them, once this crisis was over. I just have to be patient.
Coral laughed. “I’m sure a big, strong man like you can break through them easily.” She squeezed his bicep appreciatively.
He shrugged her off. He wasn’t sure if the gawky initiate was flirting with him or just trying to encourage him to get on with it, but either way, he wasn’t interested. “Stand back.” He hefted the hammer again, and she scurried out of his way.
He suppressed a smile, swinging the mallet around for another heavy blow.
Craack.
This time the board buckled inward visibly. Another few hits should do it.
He pulled back the heavy iron hammer again and hit the same spot with blow after blow. Craack. Craack. Craack.
The mallet broke through and a board fell away into splinters, clattering across the stone floor. One down, three more to go. “Why did they seal this cavern up?”
Cor’Lea gestured at the natural chamber. “There was a winery here before the Temple. Sister Dor said they used to use it for extra wine storage.” She looked around the natural chamber, which was now filled with wooden shelving holding a variety of bottled food stores. “When Jas ordered the Temple to be constructed, they kept this wide cavern and blocked off the rest of the tunnels.”
“Just in case the gully rats got in?” That thief Raven had apparently made his home in one of the underground tunnels. Who knew who else—or what else—lived down there?
Cor’Lea snorted. “Maybe.”
Are tunnels all connected, somehow? That was one of Silya’s most urgent projects, to map out the network of caverns beneath the city. Another reason she sent me down here—to get me out from under her robes.
A few more whacks at the next board served to both break it and let out his frustrations at the situation preventing him from doing his sworn job and keeping them apart. And at what she said was coming.
Craack. Craack. Craack.
The board snapped in half, and he judged that he’d cleared enough space to step through into the blocked-off tunnel. “Hand me that lantern?
Cor’Lea complied, taking the opportunity to brush his hand.
He rolled his eyes. I should be flattered. But his heart was already taken.
It was times like these he wished his brother Enrick were still alive. He’d know what to do. He’d been absurdly confident about everything, even though he’d been younger than Kerrick.
Kerrick wasn’t great with women.
He took the lantern and stepped over the bottom board, holding it in front of him. The bright light temporarily blinded him as he sought to get his bearings.
“What do you see?” Cor’Lea peered through the hole behind him.
His sight adjusted, and the tunnel’s walls came into focus.
He whistled. Stacked along the side of the tunnel were hundreds of crates, all strapped together in groups and sealed. “It’s… I don’t know what it is. But I’ll bet Silya will be surprised.” They’d have to find a place to put all this stuff—whatever it was, it was likely rotten after all this time. Silya needed somewhere to store people, not ancient goods.
Cor’Lea stepped carefully over the splintered boards to join him. “What do you think’s inside them?”
The long row of crates disappeared into the darkness. Who knew what the ancients had considered valuable enough to stash down here. Coin? Lost treasure? “One way to find out. Does the Temple have a crowbar?”
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
He decided that if there weren’t queer characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, Liminal Fiction, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is the committee chair for the Indie Authors Committee at the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA).
authorjeffbaker 