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The Book Bazaar / PEARL LUSTER, FREE Dec. 11-14 First Chapter INSIDE
« on: December 11, 2012, 06:42:19 am »
About PEARL LUSTER and the Touch Time & Soar Miniseries
(Please enjoy the full first chapter of PEARL LUSTER below.)
The stories in the Touch Time & Soar Miniseries are all linked by a fascination with artifacts and our delicate sense of touch.
Never underestimate the power of touch. Add in a beautiful family heirloom and you’ve got the makings of powerful and magical time travel.
In this story world, 21st century time travelers do exist. They are everywhere; the grocery store, movie theater, and even the typical (or mundane) place of work.
They are hidden in plain sight. Many of these travelers may appear as a free spirit passing through a life, and then they are gone, leaving only a whispered memory behind.
Touch Time & Soar is a miniseries consisting of short story episodes featuring one traveler’s experience.
The characters in these stories are the Daughters of Athena. A hidden bloodline, they have been among us since before the beginnings of written history.
It is their mission as warrior women to give aid to those in need, heal others when necessary, and lead women into greatness. (Think in terms of creative inventions like writing or great strides in women’s history like the right to vote.)
The independent women in this series are gifted with wanderlust and they know how to use it. There may be boyfriends or husbands in the picture, but they are grounded in time and do not travel with their women. This can frequently add to the conflict of the story.
* * * * * * * * *
[ 1 ] Happy Birthday
Present Day
East Stowe, Florida
Aunt Maggie’s earrings arrived on my twenty-fifth birthday. The gift was completely unexpected because she died when I was two years old. It turned out she left specific instructions the pearl earrings should be held until ‘Barbara is of the proper age.’
Those were her words, not mine.
The doorbell rang just after I arrived home from a long day working at the woman’s shelter.
It was rather late for a delivery. But when I pushed the curtain aside and peered out, the delivery man looked respectable enough.
Handsome, clean shaven, and dressed in the casual Friday style, he didn’t set off any predator alarms within my head. So I opened the door.
“Good evening,” he said. “Are you Barbara Gibbins?”
“Yes.”
Broad shoulders relaxed noticeably beneath his shirt.
“Finally!” he said. “Did you know there are three addresses listed for your current home? I’m from the law firm Meyers & Lake. I have a special delivery for you. The instructions clearly state this package must be delivered today. Frankly, I worried after you weren’t at the Ridgemont address.”
“I moved four months ago,” I said, slightly impressed he had searched two different towns for me. “What kind of package?”
He placed a black briefcase on the chair next to the door. “I’ll need you to sign for it,” he said, while spinning the small combination dials.
The latches snapped and he opened the black case. “The first document is just standard when receiving your inheritance. That one is for the probate court. The second is for a family member who insisted the handover be done by a qualified person to serve as a witness.”
“Inheritance?” The word made me shiver with a sense of dread. “Who died?”
“Oh, forgive me.” He spoke quickly and tried to reassure with a wave of his hand. “I should’ve mentioned this isn’t due to a recent death. It’s from your great Aunt Margaret. I believe she died twenty-three years ago.”
“She left me something in her will? No one ever said anything. In fact, growing up I only heard whispers about her. You know the kind I mean. Those soft muted words that were silenced when we kids came into the room. Aunt Maggie was definitely a woman of mystery.”
He laughed. “I have an aunt like that.”
The fact that he answered so openly increased my curiosity. “But why now? I mean after all these years. And what’s your name?”
“I’m James Markum. The answer to your question is easy. You haven’t received your inheritance because of her specific instructions.” He shuffled some folders in the briefcase, straightened, and held a dark green file with the papers that needed signatures on top.
“Don’t worry. I’m an attorney. That’s the reason Mr. Meyers sent me. I’m here as witness, too.”
“That’s comforting. I mean that you aren’t some evil doer. Instead, you’ve been sent by a reputable law office, but I’m still surprised.”
“Ah, you’ve heard of Meyers & Lake?”
“The law firm in Tampa that handles the difficult family and probate cases? Of course I’ve heard of them.” I glanced toward the street and finally stepped outside. Nearly twilight, I did not invite him into my home.
The balmy breeze felt great and there was plenty of foot traffic along the street to give a sense of security. The scent of summer flowers and the friendly passers-by along Virginia Street reminded me of two reasons I moved to this small town in Florida.
Mr. Shinn, an elderly neighbor, paused while walking his dog Sootie. “Evening,” he said from the sidewalk and waved. Sootie, a rambunctious Scottish terrier, tugged eagerly at her leash. She loved evening walks, but if there wasn’t someone to pet her, she always wanted to move onward.
I approached the porch rail. “How’s Ethel?”
Mr. Shinn tipped his head at James Markum and gripped Sootie’s leash firmly. “Ethel’s fine. She had a good afternoon. The doctor said she’s spry and will regain her mobility with physical therapy.” He fixed his attention on the stranger standing on my porch and motioned toward his house. “My wife fell and broke her hip.”
“That’s too bad,” Markum said. “Hope her therapy is successful.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Shinn replied. Sootie pulled toward a drifting butterfly. “I best be off. You folks have a good evening,” he said, and sent me an inquiring glance.
I gave him a reassuring nod.
Satisfied, he allowed Sootie to guide him down the street.
Two more neighbors jogged past and waved, but didn’t stop.
“You’re in a close knit community,” Markum said. “Are they satisfied you’re safe now?”
His question made me laugh. “Did you expect anything less in East Stowe with its tree lined streets? We’ve got an excellent neighborhood watch. Yes, they know I’m fine.”
He clicked a pen and handed it to me. “Well then, let’s sign these papers and you can get back to the business of celebrating your birthday.”
The porch swing was a convenient place to get comfortable. I sat and placed the folder on my lap while I read. The first paper had the formal letterhead for probate court. Reading through the legalese, I saw the original date of execution at the Blount County Court of Alabama, and toward the bottom of the page the listed bequeath. “Pearl earrings?”
Markum pulled a small red box from the briefcase, and held it so that I could see. Everything was tied neatly with an antique satin ribbon. A yellowed envelope beneath the box was probably a birthday card or private note. “This has been in the firm’s vault all these years.”
He motioned toward the papers, waiting for my signature.
“This second page is a proof of delivery for an Uncle Bob?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know an Uncle Bob.”
“It’s my understanding he’s from an estranged branch of your family. He didn’t protest your bequeath; just wanted legal proof you received everything. If you’ll sign, I’ll witness, and then you’ll be finished. I realize you probably have plans.”
Refocused on the pages, there was something that held my hand motionless over the signature line. It would be a simple action writing my name, but I hesitated.
A deep honesty blossomed in my heart and kept my hand motionless. I had to admit that my hesitation had nothing to do with the unexpected earrings. Yes, I was also curious about what may be written on the card.
But the true cause of my stillness was a sudden urge to know James Markum. “I don’t have special birthday plans. There was a party at work and I expected to go out with friends, but they were called to a crime scene. You know the life of police officers.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Especially since it’s Friday night. You know… There’s a concert at Pier 66 tonight. A walk along the beach and some music would be relaxing and fun. If you’re interested.”
With a flourish, I signed the second paper. “It’s an excellent idea.” I tucked the papers into the file folder and handed them back. “Give me a few minutes to freshen up?”
“Sure thing. Wear these,” he said, and gave me the package. “I bet they’ll look awesome.”
A soft warmth lingered where his fingers had held the small gift. The energy transferred through my skin in a rush of adrenalin. More at ease with him, I said, “Will do. Would you like to come inside while you wait?”
“Not necessary,” he replied, cocked his head toward the street, and winked. “I can pass the time out here. Keep an eye on your neighbors.”
The adrenalin rush from the warm velvet box carried me up the stairs to my room where I suddenly froze. A quick glance at the bedroom clock, it’s eight-thirty. Downstairs, the grandfather clock confirmed the time with its resonant declaration.
The concert, which is a weekly event during summer, usually lasted until eleven. It’s casual with people coming and going as they pleased, but at past events the music always grew livelier as the evening progressed. We wouldn’t miss anything getting there after nine.
Okay, what to wear? I kicked off my heels and changed quickly into comfortable capris, a soft blue printed tee shirt, and then pulled my favorite strappy sandals from the closet. They slipped on easily and enhanced my fresh pedicure.
As dusk deepened outside, I turned on the lamp.
The red box on the dresser drew me to its special contents. I paused before untying the bow. The satin was slightly stiff from age and the ribbon ends frayed.
It was strange that at this moment my mom rushed into my thoughts. She has been gone since I was thirteen. Vanished, leaving behind only the occasional hushed whispers of her name.
I shook the memories away, pulled the bow and set the ribbon aside.
The hinge on the red velvet box creaked softly when I lifted the lid.
Pearl luster glowed in the lamplight.
My fingers trembled slightly as I touched the smooth surface. The earring posts went into my ear lobes easily.
An unexpected sensation of tingling began at the top of my head. The feeling grew, and then traveled down my body as though I was being painted with faery glimmer.
A physical consciousness deepened the faery glimmer feeling as if a supernatural power touched the bone marrow within me. There was nothing different in my mirror reflection.
Everything still looked the same.
I stared at the luminescent pearls with their soft pink tint. The simple beauty drew my fingers upward, and I touched them again.
The room, dresser and mirror blurred into a combination of mist and darkened color that gradually became black.
The air in my bedroom spun as though a tornado burst through the solid oak door.
A blackness grew deeper than a starless night sky and engulfed my whole world. The only relief from darkness was an occasional bright light of color that flashed with the power of Fourth of July fireworks. The air sizzled with magic.
During those moments, I flew above what my mind perceived was the floor. As the motion intensified, it became difficult to discern which way was up, and even if there was a down anymore.
* * * * * * * * *
~ Aithne
(Please enjoy the full first chapter of PEARL LUSTER below.)
The stories in the Touch Time & Soar Miniseries are all linked by a fascination with artifacts and our delicate sense of touch.
Never underestimate the power of touch. Add in a beautiful family heirloom and you’ve got the makings of powerful and magical time travel.
In this story world, 21st century time travelers do exist. They are everywhere; the grocery store, movie theater, and even the typical (or mundane) place of work.
They are hidden in plain sight. Many of these travelers may appear as a free spirit passing through a life, and then they are gone, leaving only a whispered memory behind.
Touch Time & Soar is a miniseries consisting of short story episodes featuring one traveler’s experience.
The characters in these stories are the Daughters of Athena. A hidden bloodline, they have been among us since before the beginnings of written history.
It is their mission as warrior women to give aid to those in need, heal others when necessary, and lead women into greatness. (Think in terms of creative inventions like writing or great strides in women’s history like the right to vote.)
The independent women in this series are gifted with wanderlust and they know how to use it. There may be boyfriends or husbands in the picture, but they are grounded in time and do not travel with their women. This can frequently add to the conflict of the story.
* * * * * * * * *
[ 1 ] Happy Birthday
Present Day
East Stowe, Florida
Aunt Maggie’s earrings arrived on my twenty-fifth birthday. The gift was completely unexpected because she died when I was two years old. It turned out she left specific instructions the pearl earrings should be held until ‘Barbara is of the proper age.’
Those were her words, not mine.
The doorbell rang just after I arrived home from a long day working at the woman’s shelter.
It was rather late for a delivery. But when I pushed the curtain aside and peered out, the delivery man looked respectable enough.
Handsome, clean shaven, and dressed in the casual Friday style, he didn’t set off any predator alarms within my head. So I opened the door.
“Good evening,” he said. “Are you Barbara Gibbins?”
“Yes.”
Broad shoulders relaxed noticeably beneath his shirt.
“Finally!” he said. “Did you know there are three addresses listed for your current home? I’m from the law firm Meyers & Lake. I have a special delivery for you. The instructions clearly state this package must be delivered today. Frankly, I worried after you weren’t at the Ridgemont address.”
“I moved four months ago,” I said, slightly impressed he had searched two different towns for me. “What kind of package?”
He placed a black briefcase on the chair next to the door. “I’ll need you to sign for it,” he said, while spinning the small combination dials.
The latches snapped and he opened the black case. “The first document is just standard when receiving your inheritance. That one is for the probate court. The second is for a family member who insisted the handover be done by a qualified person to serve as a witness.”
“Inheritance?” The word made me shiver with a sense of dread. “Who died?”
“Oh, forgive me.” He spoke quickly and tried to reassure with a wave of his hand. “I should’ve mentioned this isn’t due to a recent death. It’s from your great Aunt Margaret. I believe she died twenty-three years ago.”
“She left me something in her will? No one ever said anything. In fact, growing up I only heard whispers about her. You know the kind I mean. Those soft muted words that were silenced when we kids came into the room. Aunt Maggie was definitely a woman of mystery.”
He laughed. “I have an aunt like that.”
The fact that he answered so openly increased my curiosity. “But why now? I mean after all these years. And what’s your name?”
“I’m James Markum. The answer to your question is easy. You haven’t received your inheritance because of her specific instructions.” He shuffled some folders in the briefcase, straightened, and held a dark green file with the papers that needed signatures on top.
“Don’t worry. I’m an attorney. That’s the reason Mr. Meyers sent me. I’m here as witness, too.”
“That’s comforting. I mean that you aren’t some evil doer. Instead, you’ve been sent by a reputable law office, but I’m still surprised.”
“Ah, you’ve heard of Meyers & Lake?”
“The law firm in Tampa that handles the difficult family and probate cases? Of course I’ve heard of them.” I glanced toward the street and finally stepped outside. Nearly twilight, I did not invite him into my home.
The balmy breeze felt great and there was plenty of foot traffic along the street to give a sense of security. The scent of summer flowers and the friendly passers-by along Virginia Street reminded me of two reasons I moved to this small town in Florida.
Mr. Shinn, an elderly neighbor, paused while walking his dog Sootie. “Evening,” he said from the sidewalk and waved. Sootie, a rambunctious Scottish terrier, tugged eagerly at her leash. She loved evening walks, but if there wasn’t someone to pet her, she always wanted to move onward.
I approached the porch rail. “How’s Ethel?”
Mr. Shinn tipped his head at James Markum and gripped Sootie’s leash firmly. “Ethel’s fine. She had a good afternoon. The doctor said she’s spry and will regain her mobility with physical therapy.” He fixed his attention on the stranger standing on my porch and motioned toward his house. “My wife fell and broke her hip.”
“That’s too bad,” Markum said. “Hope her therapy is successful.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Shinn replied. Sootie pulled toward a drifting butterfly. “I best be off. You folks have a good evening,” he said, and sent me an inquiring glance.
I gave him a reassuring nod.
Satisfied, he allowed Sootie to guide him down the street.
Two more neighbors jogged past and waved, but didn’t stop.
“You’re in a close knit community,” Markum said. “Are they satisfied you’re safe now?”
His question made me laugh. “Did you expect anything less in East Stowe with its tree lined streets? We’ve got an excellent neighborhood watch. Yes, they know I’m fine.”
He clicked a pen and handed it to me. “Well then, let’s sign these papers and you can get back to the business of celebrating your birthday.”
The porch swing was a convenient place to get comfortable. I sat and placed the folder on my lap while I read. The first paper had the formal letterhead for probate court. Reading through the legalese, I saw the original date of execution at the Blount County Court of Alabama, and toward the bottom of the page the listed bequeath. “Pearl earrings?”
Markum pulled a small red box from the briefcase, and held it so that I could see. Everything was tied neatly with an antique satin ribbon. A yellowed envelope beneath the box was probably a birthday card or private note. “This has been in the firm’s vault all these years.”
He motioned toward the papers, waiting for my signature.
“This second page is a proof of delivery for an Uncle Bob?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know an Uncle Bob.”
“It’s my understanding he’s from an estranged branch of your family. He didn’t protest your bequeath; just wanted legal proof you received everything. If you’ll sign, I’ll witness, and then you’ll be finished. I realize you probably have plans.”
Refocused on the pages, there was something that held my hand motionless over the signature line. It would be a simple action writing my name, but I hesitated.
A deep honesty blossomed in my heart and kept my hand motionless. I had to admit that my hesitation had nothing to do with the unexpected earrings. Yes, I was also curious about what may be written on the card.
But the true cause of my stillness was a sudden urge to know James Markum. “I don’t have special birthday plans. There was a party at work and I expected to go out with friends, but they were called to a crime scene. You know the life of police officers.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Especially since it’s Friday night. You know… There’s a concert at Pier 66 tonight. A walk along the beach and some music would be relaxing and fun. If you’re interested.”
With a flourish, I signed the second paper. “It’s an excellent idea.” I tucked the papers into the file folder and handed them back. “Give me a few minutes to freshen up?”
“Sure thing. Wear these,” he said, and gave me the package. “I bet they’ll look awesome.”
A soft warmth lingered where his fingers had held the small gift. The energy transferred through my skin in a rush of adrenalin. More at ease with him, I said, “Will do. Would you like to come inside while you wait?”
“Not necessary,” he replied, cocked his head toward the street, and winked. “I can pass the time out here. Keep an eye on your neighbors.”
The adrenalin rush from the warm velvet box carried me up the stairs to my room where I suddenly froze. A quick glance at the bedroom clock, it’s eight-thirty. Downstairs, the grandfather clock confirmed the time with its resonant declaration.
The concert, which is a weekly event during summer, usually lasted until eleven. It’s casual with people coming and going as they pleased, but at past events the music always grew livelier as the evening progressed. We wouldn’t miss anything getting there after nine.
Okay, what to wear? I kicked off my heels and changed quickly into comfortable capris, a soft blue printed tee shirt, and then pulled my favorite strappy sandals from the closet. They slipped on easily and enhanced my fresh pedicure.
As dusk deepened outside, I turned on the lamp.
The red box on the dresser drew me to its special contents. I paused before untying the bow. The satin was slightly stiff from age and the ribbon ends frayed.
It was strange that at this moment my mom rushed into my thoughts. She has been gone since I was thirteen. Vanished, leaving behind only the occasional hushed whispers of her name.
I shook the memories away, pulled the bow and set the ribbon aside.
The hinge on the red velvet box creaked softly when I lifted the lid.
Pearl luster glowed in the lamplight.
My fingers trembled slightly as I touched the smooth surface. The earring posts went into my ear lobes easily.
An unexpected sensation of tingling began at the top of my head. The feeling grew, and then traveled down my body as though I was being painted with faery glimmer.
A physical consciousness deepened the faery glimmer feeling as if a supernatural power touched the bone marrow within me. There was nothing different in my mirror reflection.
Everything still looked the same.
I stared at the luminescent pearls with their soft pink tint. The simple beauty drew my fingers upward, and I touched them again.
The room, dresser and mirror blurred into a combination of mist and darkened color that gradually became black.
The air in my bedroom spun as though a tornado burst through the solid oak door.
A blackness grew deeper than a starless night sky and engulfed my whole world. The only relief from darkness was an occasional bright light of color that flashed with the power of Fourth of July fireworks. The air sizzled with magic.
During those moments, I flew above what my mind perceived was the floor. As the motion intensified, it became difficult to discern which way was up, and even if there was a down anymore.
* * * * * * * * *
~ Aithne
and of course I'm pleased. So I clicked on her profile (something I've never done) and discovered she is reviewer ranked #1792. As a comparison I clicked another reviewer and that one is #397,305. 
<<< because it's a wonderfully hot 4th of July...
