Peanut Butter Puppy

Peanut Butter Puppy

Christina Weigand

Things in my life have gotten a little hectic in the last few weeks and I did not have time to write a post about another author. So I am going to take a break from the series and share a life story. Keep in mind that the two young girls, two and four years old are now 15 and 18, so this happened several years ago.

Never fear in two weeks I will be back with another interesting author for you to learn about.

Image by Sally Wynn from Pixabay 

Recently my 21-year-old daughter purchased a puppy, much to the chagrin of my husband.  In spite of his dissatisfaction, I think it was a good purchase.  My four-year-old daughter and her two-year-old niece are learning some interesting lessons.  The four year old, Ana likes to help feed and walk the puppy.  The two years old, Andi likes to give the puppy treats.  In fact, she would give the dog treats all day long, if we let her.

Both of the girls like to play with the puppy and the puppy likes to play with the girls.  The problem is none of them knows how to communicate how they want to play.  If Ana and Andi run across the yard, the dog, Daisy, thinks the girls want to play tackle and will run after them and tackle them.  Not quite what the girls had in mind.  If Ana waves her arms or fingers in front of Daisy, she thinks it’s a chew toy for her to chew on, again not what Ana had in mind.  If Ana’s skirt it blowing in the wind Daisy thinks it’s time to play tug of war and latches onto Ana’s skirt, again not what Ana had in mind.

If Daisy jumps up and wants to wrestle, the girls squeal and panic, not quite what Daisy had in mind.  If Daisy lies down and the girls descend on her thinking she wants to play, again not what Daisy had in mind.

Trying to housetrain has been real fun.  In fact we have successfully outdoor trained her.  She will go outside if she is outside, but as soon as we bring her in the house, she finds a place to go to the bathroom, usually on the carpet in my family room.  So now we have to figure out how to reverse train her.

Then there was the bath.  We hadn’t bathed her since we brought her home; so to say, the least she was becoming a little fragrant and my husband wouldn’t let her in the house to play with the kids.  We decided the time had come for a bath.  Katie went out and purchased a spray hose that we could attach to the tub faucet.  Katie and I, who are two grown women, could not figure out how to attach this hose to the spout. Katie decided to go on without the hose.  She puts the dog in the tub with Ana and Andi in attendance.  Quickly the dog jumps out of the tub and tries to take off.  Katie catches Daisy and puts her back in the tub.  Quickly she washes and rinses Daisy and finishes just as Daisy jumps out of the tub again, this time shaking off the water all over the bathroom.  Now Daisy is running down the hall with two little girls chasing her.  Trying to catch a wet puppy is like trying to catch a greased pig, nearly impossible.  Soon Daisy is caught though and Katie dries her off and puts her in the family room to watch a movie with us.  Daisy finds an adult lap to sit on and curls up on it until bedtime.

The next day, Daisy is resting on the patio while the girls innocently play on the patio.  Keep in mind that with a two year old and a four year old nothing is ever really innocent.  I am in the kitchen preparing dinner and Katie is nearby doing something.  Ana strolls casually into the kitchen and takes a jar of peanut butter that was left on the counter and goes back to the patio door where she meets Andi and Daisy.  I glance over, see them sitting on the step quietly, and don’t think anything of it.  So they are eating peanut butter from the jar, what are they hurting?  Soon Katie comes out to the kitchen and starts screaming, “What is all over my dog!”  Notice now that it has become her dog any other time it is just the dog.  She runs outside and realizes the girls are covered with peanut butter as well as the dog.  The girls have decided to make a peanut butter puppy.  I start laughing as Katie runs to find a hose so she can clean the dog while I am left to clean her daughter as well as mine and put the peanut butter away.  Soon the mess is cleaned up and we have a good laugh about it.

We have had the puppy for a little over a month now and she has been a lot of fun.  The little girls are learning about responsibility and I am learning patience and how to bite my tongue.  We have had fun, I’m sure that as the dog, and the girls grow and learn we will have many more fun times if we can live through them.  We must remember to keep our sense of humor through it all.  The world will not end because we have a peanut butter puppy or some water on the walls.  Soon they will be grown and gone and peanut butter puppies or skirts that look like tug of war ropes will be a distant memory.  They are the stuff that life is made of.

Alone by Erika M Szabo

A thought-provoking, futuristic, romantic short story

https://books2read.com/Alone-a-short-story

Will people feel the emotions of loss in the future as deeply as we do today?

How far will they be willing to go in finding the happiness they lost?

Caleb lost his Valerie. Will he find her?

A short snippet from the book:

“How could I do this alone, Val?” Caleb reached out and gently traced the name, Valerie Taylor, carved into the white marble headstone, with his fingers. “We were meant to be together until we grew old.”

As he had done every week since she passed, he sat down in front of the gravestone. Leukemia had taken her from him, moving so much faster than either of them could ever have imagined possible. All the plans they’d had for what was going to come meant nothing. She was gone.

Caleb sighed to ease the heaviness in his chest and looked up at the tree covered with flowers, close to the grave. “We had studied here when we were young. But always loved this magnolia tree. That’s why your parents chose this secluded spot to… Oh, Val. I miss you so much!”

More than once, over the past four years, he’d been told he was young and there would be someone else in his life. He’d love someone, to fill the void, but nobody understood what it was like to find a true soulmate. “I miss you, every day, and I keep trying to push myself to keep going, but there have been so many times when I’ve thought about just ending it all. I know I shouldn’t. You would never forgive me if I’d throw my life away, but you were my life, and…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know every time I come here it seems like I say the same thing. I want things to be different, but without you here, there’s no happiness in my heart.”

https://books2read.com/Alone-a-short-story

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

I write speculative alternate history fiction, romantic urban fantasy, historical suspense novels as well as fun, educational, and bilingual books for children ages 2-14 about acceptance, friendship, family, and moral values such as accepting people with disabilities, dealing with bullies, and not judging others before getting to know them. I also like to encourage children to use their imagination and daydream about fantasy worlds.

Our 6 Days Blog-hop Starts Tomorrow, May 12

Play with us, have fun, and win prizes

Here is how to play:

Each day during the 6 days blog-hop:
There will be 2 blog post on the OAG authors' blogs. (see the scheduled dates and blog links below)
The authors will post about their books and hide a secret word, for you to find, in the post.
If you don't have time to visit the blogs on the given dates, no worries! You can catch up the next day, just make it sure you visit the blogs from #1 to #12, so you can collect the hidden words in order.

Collect a hidden word from each blog.
The secret words will be hidden in the text of the posts between 6 asterisks such as ***-----***

If you visit every blog on the list:
You'll have 12 words which makes a quote about writing.

At the last stop on the 17th of May:
Enter the correct 12 words quote in the CONTEST ENTRY form.

The list of the participating blogs:

#1 stop May 12
https://www.authorerikamszabo.com/my-thinking-board 
#2 stop May 12
http://www.weigandchris.com/blog

#3 stop May 13
https://www.goldenboxbooks.com/blog
#4 stop May 13
http://www.rtranbooks.net 

#5 stop May 14
http://sonnetodelldustypages.blogspot.com/ 
#6 stop May 14
https://www.hrhobbsbooks.com/blog/

#7 stop May 15
https://www.rmgarino.com/blog 
#8 stop May 15
https://cindysvoices.blogspot.com 

#9 stop May 16
http://pattymacfarlane.weebly.com/blog
#10 stop May 16
http://paperpenandinkwell.blogspot.com/index.html

#11 stop May 17
http://www.urbanhype101.wordpress.com 
#12 stop May 17
https://www.authorerikamszabo.com/my-thinking-board

Enjoy the blog posts, have fun, and good luck to be one of the winners!

The Power of the Divine Feminine

The Power of the Divine Feminine

~ Lorraine Carey

For the past two decades we seem to be hearing a lot about the Divine Feminine. Is this just a resurgence of feminism? My thoughts say maybe not, but it all depends on how deep one digs to find out where ancient women of power yielded such energy and even magic.

They have been referred to as prophetic women, shamanic women, goddesses, priestesses and even witches. They were known to possess healing powers, spin time, shape shift and predict the future with visions.

We have the high priestess of ancient Greece who ruled the house of Apollo who were belonged to the sect of the Oracle of Delphi. They would sit in a sacred cave inhaling vapors, which enabled them to call prophecy to the gods. The ancient cult of the Roman Vestal Virgins were also said to possess magic and protect Rome with a sacred flame.

Goddess Hathor of ancient Egyptian times was a sky deity and mother of the sky god. She had several priestesses who practiced divination and magic. These women were allowed to be a priest claiming that childbirth, fertility and certain magic were the responsibility of women only. It was a sacred rite.

The Temple of Tentyra at Dendera Egypt is a site chosen due to its already existing feminine energy. It dates back to Middle Kingdom and lasted until the Roman Empire.

Ancient monuments and megalithic sites are known to be portals where our power women accessed their powers. Many famous Irish megalithic sites are dated back to 3500 BC. These monuments have an astronomical function and are aligned to the sun, moon and stars. Some have alignments to Sirius, Venus and the Pleiades. It is at these portals that are a pathway to the Otherworld.

The Moura Encantada has ancient lineage of powerful shamanic women. They were said to be the guardians of the pathways into middle earth. They had the power to shape shift and were said to be dangerously seductive.

Our women shaman traveled into the wilder places alone to receive their wisdom. ‘Well-Wyrding’ is a practice where women would visit a holy well or sacred spring on certain nights to receive divine prophecy based solely on the movement and sound of water. Many would go deep into the woods and listen to the wind from the sacred trees. It was here they would receive messages from Mother Nature. No special tools needed here.

Ancient Irish texts mention the Drui and gifted poets who could journey into the underworld by chanting poetry by entering into a trance. This is called, ‘Imbas forosnai.

So I guess we can say feminism has roots that indeed go way back. It makes one think deeper about the term, ‘Mother Earth’.

Most of my books feature empowered women who possess many of the same powers mentioned here. Prophetic women have always intrigued me.

My books can be found on Amazon @ https://www.amazon.com/Lorraine-Carey/e/B00ELQBUHQ/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Caesar And The Bluebells by Cindy J. Smith

Caesar And The Bluebells

Caesar lives on a farm with his owner, Lori. Caesar is a retriever who loves playing in the field of bluebells while protecting the farm. Lori puts two gnomes in her garden for decoration. Caesar thinks something is not right about them. The next May when Lori and Caesar visit their bluebell field, it is destroyed. The fairies are worried. Their queen is missing! Caesar knows the gnomes are involved. Can Caesar find the Queen and fix the mess?

A friend from high school wanted a story about her dog and her bluebell field. I explained to her that I just write poetry and the project was beyond my abilities.

The voices do not like it when I say I am unable to write things.  Despite having absolutely no idea how to connect a dog and a bluebell field, Oscar and the Bluebells, was fully developed within a week. 

Unfortunately, my friend wanted to change everything.  Heartbroken to think it was so terrible it needed to be rewritten by someone else, I took it back.  I changed the name of the dog, the owner and the location of the field. Then I forgot all about it being on my computer. 

Several years later, I was "organizing" my laptop and gathering all my poems written in various documents into one file.  When I came upon it, I decided to ask a fellow author what she thought of the story.  I was surprised to find she loved it and in fact had started coming up with illustrations for it!

The initial version was published by Erika M. Szabo at Golden Box Books with her illustrations.

I decided I would write another story and that I wanted to have the illustrations more lifelike.  I hired Daniela Frongia of Cais Arts to redo my book. This is the version currently available. 


SNIPPET:

I am an old retriever named Caesar
Lori Simpleton is my owner
We live in Ohio on a farm
It is my job to keep all from harm

When not working, I run, hunt and play
My favorite time is early May
'Cause that is when the sweet bluebells bloom
Delicate end to Winter's deep gloom

I am very lucky, for you see
Lori has a field of them for me
When we're there I jump and roll around
Then cool off in mud puddles I've found

I chase bunnies and beavers I track
For following trails I have a knack
My owner just laughs with such delight
When the turkeys and pheasants take flight

She enjoys the pretty flowers there
Takes pictures of beauty everywhere
But, she can't see the tiny fairies
Lori thinks they're just large bumblebees!

BUY LINK:

https://www.amazon.com/Caesar-Bluebells-Cindy-J-Smith/dp/1974614204/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0

REVIEWS:

"When the world suddenly loses its charming bluebells, Caesar comes to the rescue. Written with a light rhyme scheme, Caesar and the Bluebells is a wonderful tale of a dog who solves the mystery by snooping on the yard gnomes. My grade school grandkids love this story!" WhittyOne


"Terrific for boys and girls alike!! A truly beautiful book!

I absolutely loved this book! The story is wonderful, mysterious and fun! The illustrations are beautiful and go along perfectly with the story!! This is definitely a must have for your child, niece, nephew or friend's child...I am purchasing one for my great nephew and my best friend's granddaughter!!

This book was given to me for my honest opinion! So thank you for that...it was refreshing and a true pleasure to read as well as review! " Kim Page


"This unique and wonderful children's book is full of life and poetry that's perfect for apparent to share with their child. The adventure Caesar goes on to help the fairies and deal with the gnomes is delightful from start to finish. If you have a young one at home, like I do, this book is the ideal bedtime reading that you all can bond over."  Jeremy Croston

Find Cindy on her:
Blog:
https://cindysvoices.blogspot.com/
Website:
http://carternovels.com/author-cindy-j-smith.html
Twitter:  @cindysvoices
FB:  https://www.facebook.com/CindysVoices/
GOODREADS:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6505989.Cindy_J_Smith
Pinterest:
https://www.pinterest.com/cindyjsmith1/

Folk Art

Hungarian folk art

By Erika M Szabo

When people mention Hungarian folk art they talk about it as if it were a unified whole, but the designs carry many different motifs and meanings depending on the region they originate from. The Palóc people in north-eastern Hungary prepared simple hand-woven fabrics, while the women of Sárköz were famous for their refined weaving techniques. It is easy to distinguish between the colorful embroideries made in Kalocsa and the Matyó motifs made in the area around Mezökövesd, where mainly blue and red threads were used in designs made before the middle of the 19th century.

Enjoy some of the beautiful designs.

Matyó

http://www.netkeptar.hu/

 https://www.vatera.hu/

https://www.vatera.hu/

Kalocsa

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/567594359256930177/

folkfashion.hu

Sárköz

http://mozs.blogspot.com/

http://users.atw.hu/leventefotoi/szuret/album/index.html

Visit my website, you might find a book you like:

https://www.authorerikamszabo.com

Palace of the Twelve Pillars

Palace of the Twelve Pillars

Christina Weigand

Excerpt

The High Wisdom raised the crown from its golden case. A loud scream tore the silence in the tent. Joachim turned to look at the entrance. A soldier fell through the opening, blood spurting from a slit stretched across his throat.

As he bounded off the dais, Waldrom screamed, “What’s going on here?”

A wild rush of wind ripped the tent flaps open, and a horse and rider burst through. Joachim gaped at the body of the dead soldier. His heart raced and leapt to his throat. His gaze traveled up the horse’s legs. A man’s black boots. A scream caught in his throat, and tears filled his eyes. He stared into blue eyes.

The horse pawed the ground and snorted. The rider dismounted and stood next to the dead guard.

Wriggling free of Waldrom, Lilia ran to the rider. She threw her arms around him. “Brandan, you’re here. You’ve come to free us.”

The prince pushed her aside. “Brother, I see you are trying to usurp me again. It appears I got here just in time.”

“No, you’re wrong. I have no desire to take anything rightfully belonging to you.” Joachim stepped toward his brother and reached out a hand to him. “I want to help you and see what we can accomplish together.”

Swatting his hand away, Brandan laughed. “Help me? You’re the one who needs help. Anything you have to offer is worthless to me. Now out of my way. The king and I have business.”

“No, listen to me. You can’t do this.” Joachim spun him around.

 He clouted Joachim, knocking him down. “King Waldrom, we need to talk. He’s deceiving you.” He spat at Joachim then turned and bowed to Waldrom. “I’m at your service, My King.”

Regaining his feet, Joachim pushed Brandan into the guard standing behind him. The guard wrapped his muscular arms around Brandan. “What should I do with him, Sire?”

Brandan flipped the soldier to the ground and put his black booted foot on the man’s chest. “The one you should be detaining is standing there, you fool.” He pointed at Joachim.

“What are you doing?” Lilia grabbed Brandan by the arm. “Stop this, or Waldrom will imprison us all. Why are you jeopardizing our lives?”

He looked at his mother. “Don’t worry, Mother. The only one in any danger here is the traitor you see standing before of you. First, he betrays me, next he kills Father, and now he would betray you and Waldrom. Guards, seize him!”

The king stepped forward and raised his hands to stop the guards. “What do you mean a traitor, and how do you know this?”

“Because I know my brother, and that’s the way he thinks. He’ll lie, cheat, and kill to achieve his own ends, and his goal is to have both countries under his to rule at any cost.”

“Why should I trust you over him?”

“Because I’m just like you,” Brandan responded.

Walking around the twins, Waldrom rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. “My boy, you present an interesting dilemma. How do I choose one over the other? How do I know which one to believe? Guards seize both of them.” Two guards stepped forward, and each grabbed a twin.

 “You’re wrong.” Joachim struggled to break free. “This is wrong. I’m not a liar. I only want what’s best, and that’s for us to be together.”

 “You’re the one who’s wrong.” Brandan pulled his arm free. “I’ve no use for you.” He turned to Waldrom. “Get him out of here, so we can finish.”

Joachim broke loose, stepped across the gap and grasped his brother by the tunic. Brandan jerked around and punched him. He rubbed his jaw and shoved Brandan, who fell to the ground “What happened to you? You’re not the brother I know.”

Standing up, the black prince pulled his sword. “Nothing is wrong with me. I just realized who I am and who truly cares about me...and it’s not you.” He rested the point of the sword on the cut Waldrom had given Joachim. As Brandan pushed the tip in the scratch, he re-opened the partially scabbed wound. Joa laid his hand on the side of the sword and pushed it away. Guards grabbed Joachim’s arms.

“Enough! I can see you two will not make this easy. I put before you a challenge, which will determine my choice. You will travel to the Cave of Njori and extinguish the flame of Asha. Melvane will accompany you and testify to its completion.”

Brandan replaced his sword and walked over to his horse. “I don’t see the need for this. It’s obvious I am the one, but I’ll go along if that is what you want.” He remounted his horse and reined it around to exit.

Still in the grasp of the soldier, Joachim yelled, “No, Brandan, stop! You can’t do this. We can’t. It’s the light of Asha, never to be extinguished. If you do this, you’ll destroy all hope and any chance we have of defeating this evil.”

Brandan laughed and kicked his horse. “All the more reason to get this done quickly. Guards, find a mount for my brother.”

“No, I won’t go. I can’t do it.”

The king raised his hand. “The choice is made. Guards, take Joachim to the prison tent. Brandan, we will deal with this inconsequential flame later. Right now, we have more important business to attend to.”

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Why did I write – My Little Runaway?

Little Runaway

By Rick Haynes

Some years ago, I was asked by a lovely, caring lady author in London to contribute to a scheme highlighting the plight of neglected and abused children in the USA.

With my weapon of choice being the mighty pen, I decided to write a Drabble come poem. With only 100 words to play with I knew that it had to be punchy, yet thought provoking, and with an important message in the last line.

Luckily, the title - My Little Runaway - immediately jumped into my head. And the messages of what to write flowed like a never ending tap, only abating when I had finished. But with only 100 words to play with, excluding the title, I had to pare back anything superfluous to the tale. I must confess, finding the last few words for the ending did take many hours to appear in my grey matter. Eventually, though, a smile passed over me. All the hours of thought had been worthwhile and I was satisfied with the final line.

Life can be so hard for some children, whilst others are blessed with all the home comforts. As the law of nature rules, no child picks their parents. Yet, we are all the same, or as my son says – ‘Same, same, but different, Dad.’

As a man, I deplore man’s inhumanity to man. As a father and grandfather, I loathe any cruelty to children no matter who they are or where they live.

My Little Runaway was dedicated to all those alone in the dark.

And finally, I’ll leave you with this thought.

Grown-ups may rule the world we live in but only our children have the power to change it.

As my Drabble has been previously published, there is no place for it here. However, if you would like to read it, I’d be pleased to send you a copy.

http://www.rickhaynesauthor.com

May Day in Finland

Finland is a rather small country, with its 5.5 million inhabitants, and 75% of its territory covered by forests.
This small introduction is to say that Mayday, also in a small country like Finland, comes with plenty of celebrations, and it is mostly a day when people gather in the parks for the traditional picnic. It is a family and friends event, and it is the first holiday when the weather is likely to be fair after the long, dark, and cold winter.
What does it actually mean for Finnish people the Labor Day?
Labor Day or 'Vappu' is a holiday that incorporates the workers day, feast of the students that will graduate soon, and a sort of carnival to welcome spring. Now, hold your horses, when you hear the word carnival. Remember we are not in Rio, we are in little Finland, so also the parties are shaped accordingly.
A Finnish twist on the May Day celebrations, developed in the nineteenth century when engineering students would celebrate and party at midnight on the 30th of April while sporting their traditional white caps.

Therefore, nowadays celebrations start the 30th of April officially at 6 pm when the students will gather on the market square of Helsinki, climb to the statue of Havis Amanda washing it before putting the white cap on her head. This is the day when Helsinki is experiencing the full-scale event, and if you wish to check it out, don’t focus your attention only on the Mayday itself.

On the late morning on the 1st of May, students and graduates will then lead a march through Helsinki, ending in large open-air picnics in the parks across the city. Mead and doughnuts are traditional treats on this day.

Having experienced Mayday in a few European cities, I have to admit that the Finnish celebration is something unique, that incorporates much more than the workers day as it is meant internationally, giving the taste of a feast with many flavors, all meant to come together like the waves crashing on a rocky shore: fresh and intense.

Happy Mayday!

Neutral Space by Rebecca Tran

A soldier with classified information. Two races at war. Both governments will kill him to hide their secrets.

Lieutenant Jackson Peterson thought he knew who the enemy was. A bitter war with the Kelsairans made it abundantly clear. When Jackson saves a Kelsairan woman from a wrecked ship, the line is suddenly blurred. The enemy isn’t what the government said they were and he can no longer blindly follow orders. A shocking discovery leads Jackson down a sinister path of intrigue that could change the fate of two races. But, both the Kelsairan and the Human governments will kill him to keep their secrets. Jackson will risk everything to stop them. Will it be enough? Or will he die in the process?

Neutral Space is a Literary Titan gold medal winning space opera. If you like action filled sci-fi novels, with genuine characters, great world building, and humor you’ll love this book.

Buy Neutral Space today for an out of this world adventure. Amazon   Other Retailers

Excerpt:

I was on a week leave on Micea. It’s a neutral planet, completely alone. It was exactly what I wanted. My tent was pitched, and a fire was blazing. I was a short hike from the lake, perfect for fishing and swimming. I’d been there once before and loved the spot. As I put a pot of coffee on the fire, I saw the ship coming in hot. It was in trouble, and the pilot was struggling to keep it steady. I grabbed my med pack and ran to where it was going to crash. 

The ship knocked over trees as it skid into the ground. The earth shook, and there was a crash when it impacted. I nearly lost my footing. It only made me run faster. Whoever it was wouldn’t have much time if the ship was heavily damaged. I was relieved to see it was a human craft when I reached the ridge; an old one, but human nonetheless. The hatch was still closed, which was a bad sign; and, the ship was on fire. I found the emergency release lever as I wrapped my hand in the corner of my shirt to protect it from the hot metal.  The hatch opened like a charm when I pulled it. 

I fell on my ass when I saw an unconscious Kelsairan woman. It was a human craft. Why the hell was a Kelsairan piloting it? She groaned slightly. Kelsairans were the enemy. I should have left her. I couldn’t abandon her to die now that I knew she was alive. My honor wouldn’t allow it. I cursed the whole time I pulled her out of the wreckage. She was bleeding from a wound in her leg, and I knew my med kit would be useless. Kelsairan anatomy was different than a human’s. I cursed again as I hunted for her med kit. Luckily, she’d kept it close at hand, and I found it quickly. 

I dragged her to safety just as her ship exploded. It knocked me back a step, and I instinctively covered the woman from debris. The noise had my ears ringing. The heat from the fire was unbearable. I pulled her further away until I could figure out a plan. 

It was a long hike back to my camp. I bandaged her wound temporarily before making a sled to take her the rest of the way. Getting her back, unfortunately, was the easy part. I had to properly address the wound on her upper thigh once she was at my camp. Her one-piece outfit complicated everything. I needed to get to the injury, and its location made it impossible to just cut off the pant leg. 

My task would have been far easier if Kelsairans didn’t look like humans, but they did. They were usually taller and leaner with opaque eyes and ridges on their brows. Everything else made them appear human. This woman was no exception, and she was undeniably attractive. She was tall and slim. Her breasts were small, yet firm; her hips were perfectly curved. She had ice-blonde hair that was slicked back. Her oblong face had high cheekbones and full lips. I was never this close to one of their women before. I never realized how beautiful they were. Well, this one was anyway.  I tried waking her first, hoping I wouldn’t have to undress her myself but she was unconscious. I considered waiting until morning, but the wound was oozing, and I was afraid of it getting infected. 

I shook her one last time before reaching for the zipper at her neck. Nothing, she was out cold. Damn, I pulled the zipper down my hands shaking like I was a virgin. I tried not to look as I quickly undressed her, I put one of my own t-shirts on her, but her body was flawless. If I think about it, I can still remember it now. I draped a blanket over her torso and other leg as I worked on her wound. There was a piece of metal lodged in the wound. I had to fish around for it before disinfecting and bandaging it. She looked ridiculous in my shorts. At least she was dressed. 

I didn’t want to move her again, so I brought my sleeping bag out of the tent and rolled her in. The coffee I’d started earlier was ruined now. I started a fresh pot for my night vigil. Who was this woman and why was she here? I sank into my chair watching as she slept.

I am a mother, pharmacist, and author. I love all things science fiction and fantasy. Although I loved writing Neutral Space, it will probably be the only science fiction book I ever write. My brain doesn't seem to function in the hyper-reality that sci-fi uses as a genre. So I'll stick to fantasy and romance. Right now I'm not writing anything but I hope to return to my fantasy and romance series soon. Unfortunately life is getting in the way right now. If you would like to know more about me please visit my website. If you would like to see all of my books please visit my store.

Mary Shelley

 Mary Shelley: Frankenstein

Christina Weigand

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was born to Mary Wollstonecraft and William Godwin on August 30, 1797 in Somers Town, London. Her mother, a feminist, philosopher, educator and writer died a month after Mary was born and her father, a philosopher, novelist and journalist was left to raise Mary and her half-sister Fanny Imlay. Mary’s mother left her a legacy of feminist ideas that were scandalous in the eighteenth century. Mary to some degree followed her mother’s teachings and actions throughout her own life.

Although William Godwin was almost always deeply in debt during Mary’s childhood he managed to provide his daughters with a rich, if informal, education encouraging her to adhere to his anarchist political theories. In December 1801, when Mary was four years old Godwin married a woman with two young children of her own. Mary quickly came to detest the woman as she felt as if the new wife favored her own children.

In June 1812 Godwin sent Mary to stay with a family in Scotland. Mary rejoiced in her spacious surroundings as well as the four daughters of her host. She returned to stay with the family for another 10 months the next summer where she credits the trees of the grounds and the bleak sides of the woodless mountains for giving birth to her airy flights of imagination.

Somewhere between 1813 and 1814 she met Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Percy was estranged from his wife and spent a great deal of time at the Godwin’s. Percy had agreed to bail Mary’s father out of debt. He had been alienated from his wealthy family for following the economic views which he had learned from Godwin’s Political Justice. Eventually Percy told Godwin that he could not pay of the debts.

Mary and Percy had begun meeting secretly at her mother’s grave and fell in love. She was nearly 17 and he nearly 22. On June 26 1814 they declared their love for each other. Unfortunately because of Percy’s not being able to pay Godwin’s debts, Godwin disapproved of the relationship. The couple proceeded to run away to France taking Mary’s stepsister with them.

The trio travelled by donkey, mule and carriage through war ravaged France into Switzerland. When they reached Lucerne, due to lack of money they were forced to turn back and arrived in Gravesend, Kent on September 13, 1814.

Sometime during their journey Mary became pregnant and penniless. Mary’s father refused to have anything to do with her. February 1815 she gave birth to a two months premature baby girl. After the death of her child she was haunted by nightmares and became severely depressed, but did conceive again by summer.

With an upturn in their finances the trio rented a cottage at Bishopsgate. In January 1816 she gave birth to her second child. In May of that same year the trio travelled to Geneva to spend the summer with Lord Byron, as they believed that Claire was pregnant with Lord Byron’s child.

It is on this trip that the challenge of writing a ghost story was presented and Frankenstein was born. It started out as a short story, but Percy encouraged her to expand it into her first novel: Frankenstein; or The Modern Prometheus. 

Once they returned to England, they got word that both Mary’s half sister Fanny and Percy’s wife committed suicide. In an effort to gain custody of Percy’s children by his first wife, Mary and Percy finally wed. Unfortunately they did not get custody of the children. In January Claire gave birth to a girl and in September Mary gave birth to a girl. Summer of 1817 Mary finished Frankenstein and in 1818 it was published anonymously and everyone assumed that Percy had written it since he was known to have contributed to it and wrote the preface to the first edition. Differences were discovered in the two later editions that in some people’s minds supported this claim.

Living in fear of debtors and losing their children, the Shelly’s moved to Italy in March 1818.

Mary lost both of her children, her daughter in 1818 and her son in 1819. She spiraled into a deep depression and isolated herself from Percy. Her only comfort was her writing and the birth of her fourth child in late 1819.

The Percy’s celebrated political freedoms that were unattainable in England. While here she experienced a great time of creative activity writing the novels Matilda, and Valperga, along with the plays Proserpine and Midas.

In summer of 1822 a pregnant Mary moved to an isolated villa on the edge of the Bay of Lerici. She lost her baby and almost her life when she miscarried. Percy and Mary’s relationship was strained and he spent time with other women or sailing in the bay. Percy was killed in a sailing accident on July 8.

For the rest of her life Mary returned to England and resolved to live by her pen and for her only remaining son. For a short time she lived with her father and step-mother until her father-in-law agreed to a small stipend for her son.

She continued to write, editing the poems of Lord Byron and Percy. In 1824 she wrote The Last Man and assisted friends in writing memoirs of Byron and Percy.

Between 1827—40 she wrote the novels: The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck, Lodore, and Falkner. 

She contributed to five volumes about Spanish, Portuguese and French authors as well as writing stories for woman’s magazines and helping to support her father’s publishing endeavors. She sold the copywright to a new addition of Frankenstein. She attempted to assemble her father’s letters and memoir, but after two years of work abandoned the project.

In 1837 a publisher proposed publishing a collected works of Percy Shelley and Mary edited it. Her father-in-law insisted that there be no biography of Percy so Mary found a way to tell the story of his life with extensive biographical notes about the poems.

Other men came and left her life, but she never remarried as her first concern was her son. In 1840 and 1842 mother and son travelled together on the continent and Mary recorded their journeys in Rambles in Germany and Italy in 1840, 1842 and 1843.

When her father-in-law died in 1844 she and her son were finally financially independent. In 1848 her son married and she continued to live with him and his wife for the rest of her life. On February 1, 1851 she died from a brain tumor


Photos and Biography Courtesy of:

Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Shelley

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Mary-Wollstonecraft-Shelley/e/B00JLNLC7C?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_3&qid=1556671367&sr=1-3