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Author Roberta Trahan

~ Murder, Mayhem, and Mystical Mystery

Author Roberta Trahan

Tag Archives: Roberta Trahan

Wishing Will Not Make It So

30 Saturday May 2020

Posted by robertatrahan in Miscellaneous

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Allies, Be The Change, George Floyd, Joe Biden, Racism, Roberta Trahan, Van Jones, White Privilege

Yesterday on CNN, Van Jones commented on the death of George Floyd, and in sharing his insights on this tipping point in American society, he spoke some wisdom to me. Not to me personally, but to white allies like me, who have been hoping like hell that somehow the Black community has been overstating its case all these years. I, and likely most people I know, have been desperately clinging to the idea that incidents like this are anomalies, exceptions, one-offs. We stubbornly resist the idea of systemic, pervasive racism and hatred in this county because we want it to be something that can be and will be and has been overcome.

Mr. Jones’ words were hard to hear. So hard that I couldn’t stand it. I felt seen, and shamed, because my amazing loving husband, who is a Black Man, has been gently trying to make me recognize this in myself for nearly thirty years. And at last, I get it.

And then today, Joe Biden said that he used to think you could beat bigotry, and that he eventually realized that it just learns how to hide, waiting for the oxygen it needs to breathe. And then it resurfaces. And he’s right. I used to think the same thing. I know better now.

I’m not just an ally, I am a family member. I live every day honoring my husband and my children, and I stand in awe of what they endure. I also share their fear, although I will never know it the way they do. I cannot walk in their skin, but I can use that milky white, privileged sheath that I was swaddled in at birth to fight for them. 

A white friend asked me today if I could tell them what more they could do. I didn’t know how to answer at first, because I have been searching for that same advice. But then my husband reminded me that I’m already doing all that I can do, so I thought it might help just to list some of the things I consider everyday rules to live by, in case some of you are wondering what you can do:

*Lead by example, in action and intent, not just in word. Walk the talk. All the way, every day.

*Realize that racism is everywhere, in every city county and state, all the time. Remember, it knows how to hide – it’s standing right next to you in the grocery store check out line.

*Refuse to accept racism or bigotry when you hear it or see it. Call it out, shut it down, turn your back. Silence is complicity, not courtesy. Do not accept the unacceptable. Stop hoping for the best to come out in others – demand it from them. Right now.

*Understand that racism is not learned behavior that can simply be unlearned. It is not a lack of education or understanding. It is an indoctrinated belief system. It cannot be challenged or changed in an unwilling heart. Enlightenment is something that must be come to, it cannot be imposed.

* Believe people when they show you who they are. People who say racist things are racist. It’s not innocent, or accidental, or unintentional. It’s not ‘how they were raised’, it is WHO THEY ARE. Welcome sincere change in others when you see it, butremember that true change comes hard and slow.   

* Aid those who are being victimized any way you can. If you wait for someone else to act, help will come too late – if it comes at all.

*And last but not least, prepare to stand your ground, even when it is uncomfortable. Especially when it is uncomfortable. You may be the only thing standing between life and death.

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How to Grow Writer’s Skin

08 Wednesday Jan 2020

Posted by robertatrahan in Miscellaneous

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editing, Fiction Writing, Inspiration, publishing, Roberta Trahan, submissions, writers, Writing, writing community, writing life, Writing tips

Image“A Writer’s Ink” by Norman Duenas

Years ago, in a Twitter exchange, writer Kevin R Hill commented that many great books might never see light of day because the authors were not tough enough to stand against years of rejections. How true, I replied, and the idea of “writer’s skin” came up. We should coin a phrase, Kevin said – writer’s skin, the thick layer that protects tender hearts.

If only one could buy writer’s skin ready-made, I said, like a magical cloak or suit of armor, instead of having to grow it from the inside out. Yes, if only. But as it turns out we all must cultivate our own thick layer of protection.

Today, like that day, I happen to be suffering from some of the soul-wounding that all writers must endure. Although knowing that this ritual scarring is an unavoidable test of author-hood helps you prepare for the battle, it does nothing at all to stop or even slow the blood-letting. Kevin’s tweet reminded me then and now that this uncomfortable truth was universal – that I was not alone. And neither are you.

To help you get a good start, here are some tips for growing a healthy, hardy sheath of writer’s skin:

Start with a Rich Growth Medium that has been fortified with equal measures of patience, persistence, and perseverance, and is resistant to infiltrations of noxious weeds like self-doubt, jaded perspective and bitterness.

Sow Only the Highest Quality Seeds by selecting the most unique and well-formed ideas for cultivation. This will help to ensure that your writer’s skin is fashioned from the strongest creative fibers.

Water Frequently from the deepest wells of knowledge and most trusted fountains of inspiration. Avoid shallow, stagnant ponds and shark infested pools.

Fertilize As Needed with only the highest quality, well-credentialed experience you can find. Choose carefully – there are a lot of low budget brands out there that promise plenty but deliver little results.

Be sure to harvest your writer’s skin before the beginning of the submission season, and wear it whenever you venture out. This should help to shield you from the harsher elements.

Remember, writer’s skin is susceptible to normal wear and tear and that frequent use will erode its protective qualities. Therefore, it must be replaced periodically. While writer’s skin tends not to flourish in intemperate climates, it is a self-sustaining renewable resource and can be grown almost anywhere and at any time by constructing a green-house like environment that recreates the favorable conditions mentioned above.

Summer Writing Workshop

17 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by robertatrahan in Conferences & Workshops

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Edmonds Library, Novel Writing, publishing, Roberta Trahan, SnoIsle Libraries, Synopsis Writing, Write Now, Writing, Writing Craft, Writing Workshops

I’m returning to the workshop world with a presentation hosted by the WRITE NOW program through Sno-Isle Libraries. Join me on August 4th at the Edmonds Main Library for a two-hour intensive on #synopsis #writing. Click through to register!

Write Now Edmonds

What an Old White Man Taught Me About Racism

15 Tuesday Aug 2017

Posted by robertatrahan in Miscellaneous, The Goddess In Me

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Actions Speak Louder Than Words, Advocacy, All Lives Matter, Charlotte, Civic Duty, Civil Rights, How to Do Right, Roberta Trahan, Social Justice

I was born in the midst of the civil unrest of the 60s – just months before the assassination of JFK. I was also born white, to an educated middle class family, in the socially progressive bubble of the Pacific Northwest. My father was nearly 50 when I was born, and he struggled with the challenges of parenting on a lot of levels. But wherever else he may have failed, he got the most important things right.

When I was in the seventh grade and Portland Public Schools began desegregation, my father made a radical suggestion. I had been lamenting how unfair it was that my new friend, an African American girl who was bussed from her familiar surroundings every day to an all white neighborhood far from her home, never got to spend any time with schoolmates outside of class or recess. Invite her to come home with you after school one day this week, my dad says. He even offered to drive her back to her house after he finished work.

Just the idea, at which I was simultaneously awed and terrified, was shocking. Even at 12 years old, I understood that what my father was advocating was more than a little risky. It was provocative, if not dangerous, bringing a person of color into our neighborhood. And equally provocative, if not dangerous, for my father to drive her home – a white man with a black child (especially a girl) in an all black neighborhood. But my father made the offer and encouraged me to act on it without addressing any of this. It was an ordinary, everyday extension of hospitality.  He was teaching me not to treat others differently just because they looked differently, no matter what others might think or say or do, without ever saying the words. Because he knew that the words could never ever be as powerful as his behavior.

I remember how hesitant my friend was to even entertain that invitation, and we both were pretty sure her mother would never allow it. But, she did. And that’s how Jackie came over to my house after school one day. It was fun. But it wasn’t lost on either of us how nervous my mother was when it was time for dad to drive Jackie home, especially when he allowed me to come along for the ride. We all knew what was at stake, and we did it anyway.

A couple of months later, I took a punch defending a friend from a schoolyard bully. Two years later, with my father’s guidance, I reported a city bus driver for forcing a black child off the bus claiming she hadn’t paid her fare. She had, and everyone on the bus knew it. And that was just the beginning.

In the decades since, I have never once questioned who I am or what I stand for or what to do about it. I have always known to the core of my being where my line is drawn and to what lengths I will go to hold it. In case you’re still wondering, THAT is what it looks like to stand up for what is right in this world. DO right, even if it means you might be putting yourself in harm’s way. Because, though you might not realize it, you already ARE in harm’s way.

I’ve seen a lot of folks struggling to find a way to respond to recent events, and a lot of social media peeps advocating for donations to various civil rights organizations and social justice activism groups – which is awesome. By all means, throw your support behind the folks already fighting on the front lines. However, if that’s ALL you do, if you’re not actively pushing back against injustice when you see it happening in your daily lives, I’m sorry, but you are part of the problem. You are, and you need to own that.

But if you ARE pushing back, if you are calling out bad behavior and shouting down hate when you’re faced with it, then for goodness sake, ease up on yourself a little. You’ve already got this. And I should know, because an old white man taught me so.

 

Blooded – Episode Three: Deadfall

15 Tuesday Aug 2017

Posted by robertatrahan in Blooded, The Realm Wraith Trilogy

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Eco-Terrorism, Faerie Lore, Faeries, Fantasy, Free Books, Free Reads, Read as I write, Roberta Trahan, Serial Fiction, Serial Novel, Sibling Rivalry, Urban Fantasy

Welcome to my Writing in Real Time serial novel experiment – this first story in the Realm Wraith Trilogy will unfold here on my blog in weekly episodes, and is yours to enjoy. Friendly discussion and thoughtful comments are welcome. Who knows – your ideas might just help shape the story as I write! If you’re joining us in progress, start with Episode One: Leap of Faith 

Warrior Elf Blooded

*

The last ferry from Bainbridge Island to downtown Seattle is already boarding.

I hand a twenty to the glass-eyed attendant, a middle-aged woman whose dragged-down looks suggest decades of self-abuse, and wait for the change. Money perplexes me. Not the money itself so much, though it is weird. What doesn’t track for me is the concept of trading effort for colorful paper and coined metal that represents value, but has no particular inherent value itself. Little in this realm can be accomplished without it, either as motivation or as purchase. Once people start chasing after shiny objects instead of looking for ways to make a real contribution in their world, it’s a downhill slide into oblivion.

The attendant forces a smile over gritted teeth as she hands back the leftovers and waves me ahead. I thread the jeep through a maze of orange traffic cones and multi-purpose lanes, and line up on the boat deck. Not as many travelers as one might expect on a clear spring night, but enough that I’d rather ride the trip out in the jeep. The late night crowd is an oddball mix, but not so odd that I wouldn’t stand out.

This crossing is almost as brutal as the one that brought me to this realm. Before the boat chugs halfway to the Seattle dock, I can sense the elemental harmonics pitching toward a screech. Not that anyone of this world would notice, but the closer the ferry carries me to the city, the more distorted the spectral fields become. It’s a skewed view, like a reflection in cracked glass. The Seattle skyline is less a majestic backlit silhouette, and more a glaring clash of shifting angles and arcing pulses. It never ceases to astonish me that humans can’t see how broken it all is.

They live blissfully unaware of their surroundings, which is really just a poetic way of saying mankind is totally oblivious to its own impending doom. How the entire race came to be in such a predicament is a hotly debated topic among the leaders of the preternatural races – are the humans ignorant or apathetic, are they victims of an innate drive toward self-destruction and thereby unable to escape the consequences of their actions, or are they simply so arrogant they have convinced themselves there are no consequences to escape?

I guess it’s like the Caretaker says. They’ve adapted. Maybe Melody adapted too. She would have had to, in order to survive so long in this place. At some point, she must have made that choice, and that is the thing I just can’t get past. My sister decided to stay, decided to acclimate. Melody abandoned who she was.

I never could. I never would.

The low, steady grumble of the engine chucks into a whiny grind as the ferry gears up to dock, kicking me back into gear too. Much as I loathe the city, this is where I need to be. The perfect place for otherworldly creatures to hide in plain sight, especially in the dark. The freaks really do come out at night. Continue reading →

Reader Comfort Kit Giveaway!

14 Monday Aug 2017

Posted by robertatrahan in Marketing Monday

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Blooded, Faeries, Fairie Folklore, Giveaway, Marketing Monday, Reader Comfort Kit, Roberta Trahan, The Dream Stewards, The Realm Wraiths, Urban Fantasy

Because I think we all need a little more whimsy in our lives, I’m giving away some goodies over on my Facebook Author Page. Click here to enter: Comfort Kit Giveaway

*Giveaway open to residents of USA/UK/Canada/Australia only 

photo

The Week in Review

11 Friday Aug 2017

Posted by robertatrahan in The Week in Review

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Accidental Advertising, Blooded, Blooded: Episode One, Blooded: Episode Two, Roberta Trahan, UF, Urban Fantasy, Wattpad, writing life

It’s FriYay, everyone! Is it wine o’clock yet? I’m ready to get my happy hour on, so let’s get this week’s wrap up in the books. ICYMI:

*The second installment of my serial novel is now live. My Writing in Real Time experiment is really helping to keep me focused and committed to the work. To read along, click here to start: Blooded: Episode One – Leap of Faith

*I’ve also posted the episodes on #Wattpad, so if you hang out over there and would like to add the book to your reading list, here’s the link to the story and my profile: BLOODED by Roberta Trahan

*Last week on Marketing Monday, I talked about tapping into the collective consciousness and Accidental Advertising – some helpful insights, I hope.

*Looking ahead – on Monday of next week I’ll be posting entry details for an upcoming giveaway on my FB author page. Be sure to like my page to get the latest news and updates on fun stuff.

*Episode Three of my serial novel will go live on Tuesday, so stay tuned!

*And, if you haven’t already signed up for my monthly newsletter, you can do that here!

So that’s it! Questions? Comments? Let me know below, or hit me up on social media (handles in the sidebar). See you on Marketing Monday!

Marketing Monday: Accidental Advertising

07 Monday Aug 2017

Posted by robertatrahan in Marketing Monday

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Accidental Advertising, Book Marketing, Dillon Josephson, Marketing Monday, Marketing Tips, Promotion, Roberta Trahan, Social Media Marketing, Stairfaces & Josephson, Twitter, Viral Threads

Authors, like every other person or company plugging their products, are constantly refining their marketing message and dry-running new social media strategies, trying to figure out how to engage our potential readers – whoever they are. It’s all a very frustrating exercise in futility, most of the time, because who knows? No one, really.

There are paid services and books and blogs with tips-o-plenty, but the truth is no one knows what makes a video or photo or post or tweet go viral, just like no one knows which books will hit the best-seller lists or get made into blockbuster films. The only thing we know for sure is that there IS a cultural stream of consciousness out there that everyone is tuned into on some level, and if you’re lucky enough to accidentally tap that vein, anything is possible.

Accidental advertising is just what the term implies – unintentional. You can’t plan for it or pay for it or pick the place or time to show up. It happens organically, but oddly enough, not necessarily randomly.

One of the universal truths in marketing is that people respond to messaging with their emotional right brains more than their practical left brains – even when making a perfunctory purchase. They respond to things based on how those things make them feel more than anything.

Take as study the most amazing example of accidental marketing I’ve seen in years – the case of Dillon Josephsen, who inadvertently blew up the internet last week by tweeting something kinda silly-sweet he noticed about his dad’s business Facebook page. Dillon discovered that his dad, a flooring guy in New Jersey, had been taking pics of dogs he met on the job (in his clients’ homes) and posting them on the page as his “employee of the week”. Super cute, right? Dillon innocently tweeted a collage of the photos to his friends, and inadvertently staged a mega marketing coup.

EVERYONE LOVES DOGS! Who knew right? I know *I* do. When I saw that tweet retweeted in my feed by someone I follow, I clicked on it SO FAST. And then I clicked through to Dillon’s dad’s Facebook page because I just had to see it for myself.

And now, like over 14,000 (!) other people across the globe, I am a fan of Stairfaces & Josephsen Hardwood Floors for no good reason, except DOGS, and of course one day I might move to New Jersey and need some reclaimed barn door planks refinished and installed as flooring in my home office. It could happen, right?

But, even if it doesn’t, my heart has been warmed by some guy I’ll never meet and the pets he posts on his business page. I’m ALSO now following his college-age son on Twitter, because this kid? He’s trying to make something of himself, maybe in the media/entertainment industry, and I’ve got a daughter his age who is trying to make her mark as a vocalist. ABN (always be networking), people!

See how this works? Sometimes it’s just about being yourself and sharing information that matters or moves YOU. If it makes YOU happy or sad or mad, odds are pretty good it will affect others the same way. Being a member of the audience you are trying to reach and engaging in honest dialogue without contrivance or artifice or hidden agenda is the easiest form of social media marketing and networking there is. And it works surprisingly well!

To learn more about Dillon and his dad, here’s a great article (one of many) that popped up after that tweet went viral:

Fox 5 Employee of the Week

 

The Week in Review

04 Friday Aug 2017

Posted by robertatrahan in The Week in Review

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47North, Amazon Publishing, Apub, Author, Blogging, Blogging Tips, Book Marketing, Fantasy, Roberta Trahan, Social Media Marketing, Week in Review, writing life

This week was exhilarating, and exhausting. BUT, I accomplished all of the goals I set for myself, AND was able to track some measurable results from my efforts. Here’s a brief recap:

  • Got this week’s Marketing Monday post up – late, but better than never. Next week’s is already in the can and will be uploaded early!
  • Consulted with a very successful author friend who gave me some solid, specific suggestions on my new project. This was hard, because it’s always hard to ask others for help, but she was very gracious and her guidance has already paid off!
  • Asked three other successful author friends to help me with some promotion. I felt I could do this because a) I’ve been supportive of their careers and b) we’ve traded these kinds of favors in the past. A trusted writing community is essential, so if you don’t have one yet, start building.
  • Launched a new project – my Writing in Real Time endeavor, a serial novel released in episodes, for free on my blog. This is a controversial thing to do, but my number one goal right now is to build an audience for my work. It’s been five years since my first book was published, and more than two years since the sequel. Since then, my career has stalled. I need to feel inspired again, and interacting with readers can do that for an author. But first, I need readers! Here’s the link to the first episode (read and share!): Blooded – Episode One: Leap of Faith
  • In support of the serial novel project, I made a directed effort to raise my public profile – I spent some $ on boosting likes on my FB page, and invested a big chunk of time in social media. This is where I’m seeing those measurable results I mentioned. I’ll be talking about this in more depth on an upcoming Marketing Monday.
  • Got some writing done, too!

Whew, right?!! I don’t know if I can keep up this kind of pace every week, but I’m going to try. For now, it’s wine o’clock somewhere…

See you on Marketing Monday!

Blooded – Episode Two: What Evil Lurks

01 Tuesday Aug 2017

Posted by robertatrahan in Blooded

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Amazon Publishing, Blooded, Episode Two, Fairy Lore, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Free Books, Free Reads, Roberta Trahan, Serial Fiction, Sibling Rivalry, Urban Fantasy, What Evil Lurks, Writing in Real Time

Welcome to my Writing in Real Time serial novel experiment – this first story in the Realm Wraith Trilogy will unfold here on my blog in weekly episodes, and is yours to enjoy. Friendly discussion and thoughtful comments are welcome. Who knows – your ideas might just help shape the story as I write! If you’re joining us in progress, start with Episode One: Leap of Faith 

Warrior Elf Blooded

*

The crossing is quick, but excruciating.

The portal transports matter across the dimensional planes by compressing its mass into an energy stream. It’s a lot like shoving a spike through a pinhole. The cellular distortion is brutal. It would also be fatal, without the gossamer.

This second skin is better than magic. Besides making me mutable, the sheathing enables my body to morph in response to a whole host of external forces. It also gives my regenerative abilities a hypernatural boost, which can come in handy when one is out of her realm and all on her own. Most importantly, it has chameleon qualities which allow me to adapt to any alien environment. In the mortal realm I will appear to the most scrutinizing observer to be as human as any other inhabitant of this world, even though I am not human at all.

I land hard, coiled in a sprinter’s crouch beside the same kedge stone, but in an entirely distinct and separate reality. The same and yet totally different – just one of many paradoxes that transect the realms.

A sudden gut-wrenching convulsion throws me forward onto my hands and knees, and I hurl all over the pine needles and leafy dust that litters the forest floor. Nausea is a normal aftereffect of the crossing, but I am still mortified. Over two dozen training excursions and three covert ops missions in the human realm, and every time it’s the same. I should be able to hold it together better by now. I’ve never seen Violet puke.

I want to rinse the bad taste from my mouth. I need water. But first, I need to get my bearings. It takes a few deep breaths before I can force myself back on my haunches and get a look at my surroundings. The crossing key is still curled in my clutch, and I am quick to loop the lanyard back around my neck. This key is my lifeline, the only connection I have to my home realm. If it were lost, I could be stranded here and next to failing this mission, I have no greater fear. I will never let this key out of my reach.

The moon is high and gleaming bright white through the dense evergreen canopy of the Olympic National Forest. This time of year, the climate in the Pacific Northwest is ever changing – cloud covered and rain soaked one minute, crisp air and clear skies the next. The weather is working with me tonight.

We fae are not nocturnal beings by nature, not in our home realm, but it is easier to operate at night in the human dimension. Less chance of being detected, of course, but it is also easier to function when there is less noise – the static interference created by the frenetic energy discharges of daily mortal life. Preternatural beings are super sensitive to it.

While the moon and the stars make it easier to set a course, I don’t need them to navigate. Like all sylph, I have a hyper-developed sense of smell. EDL reconnaissance and recovery expeditions usually deploy an advance scout team, often a cross gender pair. A sylph’s olfactory abilities partnered with a satyr’s superior nocturnal vision make for highly accurate covert tracking. A kind of sensory GPS, I guess. But I have only myself to rely on this time.

Nose to the sky, I snuffle the scents on the damp night air. The salty smells of sand and sea creatures are mingled with the piney perfume of the evergreens. Beneath these pungent aromas, I catch the faint, distant tinge of satyr sign. It is unmistakably Auger’s. The scent is stale; days, maybe even weeks old, the lingering trail left by his last trip to this realm. Squad members are each assigned a monthly sector tour as a part of our regular duties, for reconnaissance mostly, but also to resupply the forward operations bevies. Sector Five is on Auger’s watch, and one of our support stations is nearby. This is my first checkpoint.

A warbling caw in the boughs overhead jump-starts my heart and sets my teeth on edge. I’m being watched. It was only a matter of time until my presence was detected, but I am surprised the sentinels have spotted me so soon.

They are everywhere here. Preternatural souls trapped in the form of a crow, banished from the Empyrean realm and condemned to eternal internment in the human world. The can only be released from this purgatory by the Empyrean being that cursed them, and if it should happen that a sentinel outlives their jailor, they are essentially damned for all eternity.

Some of the sentinels are ancient. By human measure, the preternatura appear immortal, though we can and do die. We have our vulnerabilities, but we are less susceptible to injury and illness, and our post-adolescent cellular degeneration progresses much more slowly than that of humans. Given the right circumstances, magical beings can live a long, long time – eons even. So when I say these earthbound souls are ancient, I’m talking centuries old, maybe even millennia.

It isn’t all bad; sentinels do have the freedom of flight. But they can never return to our dominion, and this is the cruelest of all fates. I truly cannot imagine anything worse than never being allowed to go home.

These disenfranchised spirits could be useful too, though not completely trusted. Beings without belonging lack the loyalty that naturally comes from a sense of solidarity with your own kind. This makes them mercenary, and prone to make alliances that serve their need to have purpose. They are not alone in this realm. Others among the preternatural races have been banished here, for crimes against the home realm. Still others have escaped here, looking to infiltrate human economic and political systems and manipulate them in order to create their own power bases.

Some of the more nefarious deserters are actually on the EDL’s most-wanted list and known known to use the sentinels as lookouts. The last thing I need is an off-mission confrontation with a fae fugitive who thinks I’m here to drag them back. I didn’t have the time. There is no way to know whether this fowl is friend or foe without getting up close and personal, so I decide to play it safe.

I burst out of my crouch, sprinting full-force for the heart of the nearest stand of trees. The sentinel has the advantage of moonlight and a birds-eye view but I have stealth on my side, and the camouflaging the gossamer sheath provides. I run low, slinking deeper into the forest undergrowth until I am fairly certain the sentinel has lost sight of me, and then cut a zigzag path all the way to the tree line on the other side of the forest.

By the time I reach the tree line, I am remembering standard infiltration procedure. Before entering the open, I throw a scatter charge to disguise any residual energy signature I might be sloughing. The charge is effective for a radial mile or more, enough to ensure I won’t be followed.

From the forest, I walk along an abandoned access road toward the checkpoint. My first objective is to collect some solid intel, but for that I need transportation. I also need some real protection from the elements. Gossamer is waterproof, but it isn’t much good in chilly weather. It isn’t exactly fashionable either, and I need to blend in with the mortals in their communities.

Auger’s scent leads me two miles west, to the tiny tourist town of Port Angeles and the lonely parking lot at the ferry dock. The town is tourist driven, nearly derelict in the off-season, and all but abandoned at night. The perfect staging area – within easy reach of the kedge stone, and populated enough to provide cover and the means to secure any basic supplies the team might need.

The ferry-runs to and from Victoria are suspended until later in the spring. I won’t have to worry much about avoiding chance encounters. Then again, if I wander around in the open too long I risk drawing the suspicion of local law enforcement. I need wheels to get myself inland. There’s a lot of ground to cover between Port Angeles and the Emerald City, and not a lot of time.

Three vehicles are parked in the lot – a road-weary jeep, a tricked-out newer model crew cab pickup, and a powder-blue vintage replica roadster convertible. The truck and convertible likely belonged to locals or tourists, but the jeep is an EDL stash vehicle.

Stowed in the rear compartment of the jeep is a small supply of bottled water and a duffle stuffed with a selection of coverings and foot gear to suit the varying seasonal climates of this realm. Underneath the compartment decking is an emergency munitions cache, in case any of us run into serious trouble. But for now, all I need is the water, and a little extra protection from the elements.

An unlined black canvas trench coat and black jump boots appeal to me, partially for the added layers but also because they give off a particular vibe. I like black. The gossamer bodysuit and tactical vest are organically mimetic and automatically adapt to match the coat. The total look is a bit too dark and edgy out here in the sticks, but once I get to the city no one will even look twice. But before I drive all the way to Seattle, I have a stop to make.

Continue reading →

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Best-selling author of the quasi-historical epic fantasy and post-apocalyptic science fiction. Dragon Seeker, Myth Maker, Coffeechocoholic & Antique Jewelry Hoarder.

THE KEYS TO THE REALMS (The Dream Stewards #2)

THE WELL OF TEARS (The Dream Stewards #1)

AFTERSHOCK (A Short Story)

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