Upcoming Events – Page 2 – Derby Public Library's Blog

Writing Challenge Winner: The Amazing Adventure of Amelia Smith by Lisanna Swallow

Lisanna Swallow is an eleven-year old writer who participated and completed the summer 2024 Hero’s Journey Writing Challenge. Her short story, The Amazing Adventure of Amelia Smith” features an incredible tale of dragons and slayers, betrayals, and triumphs.

Read Lisanna’s incredible short story below:

Part One

Dragons, said to be horrible monsters that burn down villages at a time. Only the brave or people with death wishes face them. That’s when Amelia Smith came in. She fought dragons, saved people, and hung dragon heads on her wall as a trophy. Everyone admired and loved her. She now lives in a castle-like cottage in the middle of a small village, her hometown. She lives with her one daughter. She sells dragon parts for a living. Everyone still admires her. Honestly, sometimes, I don’t understand it. I am Amelia Smith the third. Her one and only daughter. Welcome to my mind.

Other people don’t understand it. They don’t see it happen. She doesn’t just slay the dragons, she murders them. One day, when I was younger, she let me meet one of the dragons. The dragon was a baby hydra. Mother had already killed its family. The hydra had many heads already. The hydra was sweet and joyful. She was also weary and shaky. Poor thing. That day, I bonded with the hydra. I named her Ginger. I tried to stop Mother from butchering her. Mother was not pleased. She forced me to watch it happen.

Most every dragon Mother brought into the butcher was kind. It filled my heart with terrible guilt and the horrible pang of sadness to let it happen. But there was nothing to do! Every try failed. This continued on and on. There was no stopping it. Another day, another dragon. Another try, another watching the butcher. It was a horrible punishment. Mother did not seem to care for the dragons she was murdering. It made me look at her another way. As if she wasn’t my mother, but a heartless butcher.

“Today will be different.”, I whisper to myself as I get out of bed. I change my clothes and walk to the rusty kitchen. An egg lay on the table. Not a dragon egg, but a chicken egg. One purposed for eating or cooking. I see that the firepot was already lit. I crack the egg to eat for breakfast. The fire is slowly dying, the egg will take a while to cook. I sit in patience and loneliness. I remember the days Mother would eat with me. Back when we had Father.

After finishing my egg, I head out of the cottage doors. A raven, tall and proud, is perched on the barren roof. I click my tongue and stick my arm out. Sure enough, tied to his leg is a letter. It reads:

Amelia Smith III

A letter? For me? I untie the parchment from the raven and reward him with a scrap of meat before he flies home towards the rising sun.

I run back inside and sit on the dragon scale carpet in the main room. I maliciously tear open the envelope to reveal a parchment that reads:

Amelia Smith III,

Somebody told me that you like dragons, That you don’t want to hunt them. I respect that. I, too, am against dragon hunting. I know of a dragon that needs saving. A dragon that you can save. For I am far too old and fat to become a dragon hero. You, however, are young and spry. The dragon in speaking is a hydra. I believe your mother has butchered his sister. Enclosed in this document is a map. That will guide you to the hydra. The hydra is now in captivity. He is being tortured and will be butchered in a month. The journey will take time. I hope you make it to him before it is too late.

Caspian

Who is Caspian? Nevermind that! In the letter he mentioned a hydra! But also another one, one my mother butchered! I believe he is talking about Ginger. I pull the map from the document and read it. The journey is long, stretched wide and far. It will be a long and perilous journey. I plan my route. The route is supposedly the quickest route but I have no horse to ride upon so I must go on foot. It also has many valleys, many forests. Spots on the map say in red, bold writing; “DRAGON SIGHTINGS HERE” The path I chose has many of those spots.

It is only noon. I will not set out on my journey today. For today is a day for packing, planning, and preparing. I run to my room. Ready to pack my items. I grab a lightweight handbag. I also grab my bow and arrow satchel. I will need to hunt. I run to the kitchen and find something to contain water. I run outside towards the well. I fill the canister with water and stuff it into my bag. I run back into my house and straight into the kitchen. I grab all the scraps of food as I can and put them into my bag. My bag is only a bit more than halfway full. I run into the barn and grab a rope and knife. In the barn, I see a compass, laying on the floor. I think for a minute and decide to grab it. My bag is finally full. I run to the room and stuff it under my bed along with the map, letter, and bow and arrow set.I eat dinner alone. My mother is too busy to bother. I go to bed and try to sleep well. The thought of running away is nagging at my brain. I can’t just leave her alone without a word! Can I? I will write a note. I know it doesn’t really make a difference but it helps me sleep. And that is all that matters now.

I awake. It is early. The sun hasn’t risen yet. I grab my quill and ink and begin to write the note:

Mother,

It is time I go on an adventure of my own. I will be back

Your daughter,

Amelia

It has happened. I am off. I will become a hero. A dragon hero.

Part Two

I sit down on the dusty, pathless floor. I have been traveling all morning. From the looks of the dim sun in the middle of the sky it is around noon. I pull the dry map from the coarse leather bag on my back. The tree I am sitting by is big. It is so big that it is a landmark on my map. I am still very far from the spot circled in red ink. I move my eyes back to the silhouette of the tree and see in red ink “DRAGON SIGHTINGS HERE” right by it. A rustle in the nearly-dead bushes sends me aback in shock.

I grab my leather handbag and fling it above the lowest branch I tie it on and climb as high as a can. Quickly and quietly at the same time I grasp the highest branch I can and thrust myself up to it. There are more rustles in the bushes. The orange autumn leaves stop me from seeing the cause of the rustling. The forest is beautiful and calming. The chilly autumn breeze gives me a warm sense of home. I get a tight grip on my branch and duck down. A slick, green, snakelike figure with a long tail sits in the clearing. It has two teal goat like horns and two wings far too small to support its body. Its legs have huge claws pointing out and it has two mini horns between the large horns. It sniffs the air and turns its head around. What if it smells me?

It lays down. It doesn’t see me. What a relief! I have let the thoughts go through too soon. The snapping of a branch fills my body with ice cold fear. My leather bag falls and almost hits the creature’s scaly tail. Its reflexes were swift and quick. Before I knew it it’s perched on the thin branch next to me. A dragon! I lose my footing and plummet forwards. As I fall back from the tree, my heart races with the sudden rush of adrenaline. The regret of climbing so high hits me hard. The dragon pounces forward. Its long claws grip into my coat and keep me from falling. The dragon is smaller than I thought. It’s about the size of a large lion. “Grab my wrist.” It speaks! I do as it says. Excited and scared at the same time. A talking dragon! It flings its wrist over its head and I land on its back. It jumps off of the branch and its wings seem to expand magically. The wingspan is about as long as a pitchfork. We landed and I jumped off of its back. “Thank you.” I say. The dragon bows its head and opens his mouth. “I am Mars. Peacemaker for the animals. Dragon of Shamrock woods. I help all problems and aid all that need it. What brings you here?”

Its voice was male. He looked at me expectantly. “I am Amelia Smith the third. My mother is a butcher to dragons but I attempt to pass through the forest in peace. For dragons are my friends and a hydra on the other side has been sentenced to death. I will save him.” I grab my bag and see an arrow poking out of its satchel, the tip glistened dark red in fresh blood. I turn to Mars to see him lying on the ground, a sleek cut on his tail staining onto the dying tan grass. “My arrows! How could I be so careless?!” I think aloud. Mars stands up, his tail thrashing to the side, shiny red droplets falling to the grass, walking towards me. I prepare myself for the fiery wrath of a dragon but instead he stops and sits beside me.

“Do not blame yourself. The tree is to blame. It was the branch that had snapped. The fact that the bag stayed on shows that you tied a strong knot onto the tree. You are better than you think. For it was the tree that could not handle you. Why else would the branch have thrown you off?” Mars looks at me and blinks sympathetically. Suddenly, he jumps off of the floor and into the sky. He is gone. I am alone. I lie down and look at the map. Wind blows in my face and Mars is back. He has stuff in his jaws. He lands and sets it down. His tail is bleeding heavily. “There are healing herbs and honey not far down north.” Mars speaks. He wants me to grab them. I stand and walk into the forest.

I spot the herbs quickly and set them all in a pile together. A buzzing bee hive drips honey. Though there is nowhere to catch it. I spot a spear like stone and grab it. I walk up to the hive. I gulp at the sight of so many bees. I whisper to myself. “I can do this.” I dig the stone knife into the yellow hive. Bees swarm out, stinging me, they mostly get my hands and arms. It doesn’t hurt very bad but it sickens me with guilt at the thought of all of them dying to hurt me. I grab a leaf and use it to catch the warm, fresh honey oozing out of the damaged hive.

I return to the clearing to find Mars awaiting me. My coat is sewn up from the claw marks and the hole where the arrow broke through the satchel is mended. I give Mars his herbs. He silently fixes up a poultice. I look to the sky and realize the sun is setting. I grab my water canister and drink a few thirsty gulps. I get my bow and arrows ready. “I’m going to go hunting.” I tell Mars.

I catch a deer. Mars’s wound has finally stopped bleeding. It is magically stitched up. Mars starts a fire and I cook the deer. As I eat it Mars talks. “I want to mentor you. Teach you the ways of the dragon. The forest. So when you save the hydra you will be ready. I want to come with you.” I reply “Thank you Mars. You can come with me. We leave the forest tomorrow.” I rest along the tree tonight. Mars is curled in a ball in the clearing.

Lisanna's original drawing of Mars — Lisanna’s Original Drawing of Mars

Part Three

I awake. Mars is curled in a ball in the clearing. I sit up. It is morning. I breathe in the fresh lake air. The warm summer sun is warming my entire body. I sit up and pick up a few ripe tomatoes from a vine. Then, a hydra runs into the lake and shouts. “Save me!” Its voice is a dying groan of many voices together. It falls to the floor. “Mars!” I shout his name. He doesn’t awake. I shake him yet his body lays limp. He is dead. An arrow soars past my head. I hear a scream and the entire world comes different and falls into cold darkness.

I awake with a jump, my mind pulling itself back into consciousness. “Just a dream.” I whisper to myself. The chilly autumn forest surrounds me, A warm sense of home fills my thoughts. Shamrock woods is much like the forest by my house. A rustle in the autumn thicket startles me. Mars sticks his head out of the bush and then he jumps swiftly onto the clearing. His eyes gleam with an unhidden sense of confidence. “Are you ready to set off?” He asks, spreading his wings magically, almost knocking down one of the ancient trees with the size of his scaly wings. I stand up and stretch. I throw the bag over my shoulders and sit on his back. His wings flap, gusting a wind that rustles every leaf within ten feet of the clearing. He jumps greatly and we are in the sky. We are off.

After a while of flying, the clouds seem to thicken. Finally, it starts to drizzle. Next, it’s raining. The rain keeps getting heavier and heavier. “I can’t fly in this.” Mars honestly announces. We glide down until we reach ground. “We are still in Shamrock woods.” Mars’s news disappoints me. “When will we be out?” I ask. “After the Sphinx’s maze.” “The what?” “You will see.” I look around and see a landmark that I remember on the map, the landmark that shows the exit. “We will continue on foot.” I decide. Mars nods and we walk forward.

We continue on until the path is blocked by a tall thicket of cold, green thorns. The green was dark and eerie. I see a tree. Its leaves are a dying orange like all of the other trees in the forest. The tree is gnarled and there are birds nests in it. The bushes are the only green in the whole woods. Mars mutters something in another language. The hedge opens like a door in front of me. I shudder. Mars nudges my back and I step forward. I keep walking and Mars enters the bushes too. It somewhat looks like a giant maze. The hedge door slams shut and Mars sits down. “We have entered the Sphinx’s maze.” His voice sounded solemn and the leaves beside me rustle. I attempt to jump backwards but Mars’s horns push me forward. He moves to the side and I stand next to him. A large creature appears out of the bushes. A sphinx!

“I am the sphinx of the Thornbush maze. Only one may pass.” The sphinx walked away to let us decide. Mars looks at me and I realize he knew that this would happen. “I have to leave you now. The time has come for us to part. I will see you again.” I open my mouth to say a remark but he launches himself up into the air. “Goodbye, Amelia. I hope we meet again.” I stare in disbelief. I have to make it through the bushes. I tell myself over and over again. Not for myself, but for the hydra, but for Mars, and for my mother. So that she can see that killing these magnificent creatures is wrong.

The cold voice of the sphinx breaks me from my thoughts. “Amelia, is it?” I turn to face her and give a quiet nod. She grimaces and stares into my eyes. “Well, Amelia, You will have to complete a quick riddle before entering the maze. You will get three guesses.” “Let me know when you are ready to hear the riddle.” I prepare myself. “I’m ready.” I gulp. “I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?” The sphinxes voice rings. “Three guesses.”

“A shadow.” I answer. I try to make my voice confident to hide my fear. “No.” The word rings in my head. It doesn’t stop. It’s wailing cries. Then it’s clear to me! “A ghost!” This time, the confidence in my voice isn’t fake. “Wrong again” The sphinxes voice rasps. I look up to the sky in vain, half hoping that Mars would come back down. He doesn’t come to me but the answer does. The rain is the mouth, the sun is the ears. “A cloud.” This time I answer truthfully, my voice full of fear. Cold air filled my lungs as the sphinx opens her cursed mouth to speak. “Incorrect.” Her voice feels like ice stabbing into my heart. The bushes break open to reveal an exit and a gust of wind blows me back.

I awake. I recognize the tree I am rested by as the one that was near the maze. But now there is no maze. I have failed. The pathway forward will sacrifice another day of traveling. I will need to eat. I grab my hunting supplies and look around. There are no deer tracks. There is no sign of any good food. I hear a rustle. A rabbit! I aim my bow and shoot. The arrow hit the rabbit’s flank. The rabbit tries to run but I shoot again, this time hitting its neck. It struggles for a while until it finally dies. I grab my arrows out of the rabbit and put them back in my satchel. I start a fire to cook and eat the rabbit. I pack up my supplies and move onward. The hydra needs me. But am I even strong enough to save him if I can’t even answer a simple riddle?

Part Four

After what seems like forever, I finally stand up. Even if I can’t save the dragon, I will need to journey back home. I look around. It has stopped raining. The sky is starting to clear. There is no sign of Mars. This is it. I’m finally alone. I never had any friends. I have only really made friends with dragons. Mother used to be my friend. But after Father died, she didn’t really care about anything. She was all I had left and I abandoned her to save the life of a dragon. Ginger was a close friend of mine but Mother had her butchered. Mars was probably the closest thing I had to a friend. But I had to leave him to save that dragon. This stupid dragon is the reason for the loss of my friends. And I want to choose not to save him. But if I did, that would be a disgrace to my friends. The reason I lost them was because of this dragon. So if I give up, I will lose them for nothing. I have to move on. No matter how much I don’t want to. I must move on.

I walk forward. I keep walking. This forest seems to go on forever. Until I see a sign in the distance. I run towards it, dodging the trees and boulders. I finally reach it. The sign! It reads “You are now exiting Shamrock woods.” I step onto a dying, windy prairie. A bright light flashes in front of me. A man appears. His face is pale and he wears black robes. The robes seem familiar. They seem like the robes that the witches and wizards wear in all of the stories that the elders in my village tell me. The robes are dark and have yellow constellations on them. “Hello, traveler!” His hand is as pale as his face. “You have traveled far and made it through Shamrock woods! Continue straightforwardly for a prize! For Shamrock is a huge forest and only the brave make it through!” His smile looked honest but something was off with this man. “Who are you?” I ask. “Why, I’m the wizard of the woods! I work together with the other spirits of Shamrock forest to make the place better. My name is Mercury!” His voice and smile seemed honest yet something was still completely wrong about this man.

“Forest spirits?” I wondered aloud. “Ah yes! Forest spirits! There are three of us! There’s me, Jupiter, and Mars! I suppose you have never heard of them.” Mars! “I know Mars! He helped me get through the forest!” Mercury’s face lit up in shock and excitement. “Really? Well that’s curious! It’s Jupiter who helps the travelers.” I have never heard of Jupiter before. I think for a second and then it hits me. “There are eight planets! Why are there only three of you?” Mercury smiled again and said “You are thinking well! There are actually nine spirits! Three to guide the forest, three to guide the prairie, and three to guide the beach!” I nodded at the information. “That’s it! Mars said that he met a girl named Amelia! He said that if I saw you then to give you this!” He holds out a small wooden box. I grab it but before I can open it there is a loud beeping sound. “Gotta go now!” Mercury disappears and the beeping stops.

I walk forward and stop at a small boulder. I sit down beside it. On the box there is a small parchment. It reads “For Amelia.” I open the box and inside is another parchment. I pull it out and unfold it.

Amelia,

I saw you in your village and decided you were the one. You were the one to save all dragons. The hydra is real. The hydra represents millions of dragons on the beach, being trapped and tortured. You need to save them. Do you remember the note? The one from a man named Caspian. It was true. It was all true. All except, There is no Caspian. It was me.

-Mars

Inside the box there is a whistle. Tied to it is a note. “Use only in an emergency.” I move onward just through this prairie is the beach. I will save the dragons. I will save them all.

After running for a while, I run out of breath. I try to slow down but I slip on a rock hidden in the tall grass. Right when I think I’m going to hit the ground, I don’t! I look to see a dragon where I should have landed. I get off of it. “Thank you.” The dragon nods. “I am Pluto, Dragon of the prairie.” It was a female. She is pink and has a yellow belly. She is a Long dragon, like the ones in Chinese folktales. “Why have you entered this sacred land?” her voice was calm. “On the other side of this there is a beach. In that beach there are people who torture dragons. I attempt to save the dragons.” Pluto looked at me with hope and respect. “Use this in an emergency.” she handed me a whistle and disappeared in a poof of dust.

I finally exit the prairie and reach a beach. There are no dragons in sight. I move along the beach until I reach water. There are footsteps, dragon footsteps. I follow the footsteps until I see a group of people far in front of me. I hear the screech of a dragon and see many dragons near the people. “Oh no!” I accidentally say aloud. A few people whipped around and started charging for me. I grab both whistles and blow them. The whistles disappear and Mars and Pluto appear by my side. This is a battle we will win.

Part Five

The three approaching men look startled at the fact that Mars and Pluto are beside me but they keep charging. “We’ll all take one!” The middle one decides. I charge for him. I pull out my bow and arrow, dip it in the poison compartment that I had installed as a child and aim steadily, still running towards him. I shoot, hitting him in the head. He falls to the ground, dead. The two other men lay on the ground near Pluto and Mars. I jump on Mars’s back and he flies. Pluto flies near us and we land where the dragon tortures hideout is.

A splash comes from the water and a huge, blue, and yellow dragon splashes onto the shore, crushing a few of the men. It is the size of a whale. “Hi! I’m Neptune!” The roar echoes all around the beach. I run to a cage of small dragons. A sharp rock lay beside me and I pick it up, its jagged edges pricking my fingers. I use it to destroy the lock on the cage and set the small dragons free. I run to the next cage. I destroy the lock and let the dragons free. A thump brings me to the ground. I turn and I realize that one of the men from the dragon torturers has pinned me down, his foot pushing hard on my stomach. I wrap my legs around his foot and push hard, shoving him off of me. I stand up.

I hear the crying yelp of a dragon and see that one of the torturers is using the jagged rock to stab it. I slide over and kick the torturer. I grab the rock and gently pick up the baby dragon. It looks up at me and bites at me. I hold on tight to the baby dragon. I set it far from the battle and run back. A sharp pain stabs into my arm as an arrow sinks in. The bristles on the back are purple to show that the arrow is poisoned. Gladly, it wasn’t killing poison like my poison of which I made myself. Pain surged through my entire arm and I yanked the arrow out, letting my arm bleed. Pull out one of my arrows and dip it in the poison. I get a sight of who shot me and shoot him right in the head. The instant poison does the rest for me, leaving him dead on the ground.

I finally make it back to the battlefield and unlock more cages. All of the men guarding the fortress are either gone or dead. All of the dragons outside of the fortress were also freed. The only people outside are me, Mars, Pluto, and Neptune. Neptune turns himself into a human. And runs to us. “You can turn into a human?!?!” “All dragons can.” We enter the fortress. There are only ten men, each guarding one cage. Each cage has a dragon that is around the size of Mars in them. “Help us!” Almost all the dragon cages call in sorrow. Over and over again. Their wailing begging us. Pluto is the first to jump forward. She pins one down. She opens her mouth and burns the man to a crisp. She growls and stalks until all of the men are cowering in a corner. “Are we going to let this stupid dragon boss us?” One man shouts. The others cheer and grab their spears. “STAY THERE!” I run to a cage breaking it open. The others do the same. I open the door and let out the dragons, glad that Pluto is distracting the men.

I run up the wooden stairs, Mars following me. I reach the door and slam it open. In the roofless room there is a great hydra. It had more than thirty heads, each crying their despair. He is blue and massive. A thousand strong ropes tie him down. Massive cuts are everywhere along his giant scaly body. Nobody is in the room. I run to the hydra. “You are going to be alright.” I assure him. I use the jagged rock to cut each rope, one by one. The hydra stands up, revealing tons of cuts and scars on his leg. One of his heads came down to face her.

“Thank you. Thank you for saving all of those dragons. But I am too scarred to leave this place. They would kill me if I walked a step. Thank you for it all. You are a hero, Amelia. Go home. Tell your Mother you are safe. Tell her all that has happened. Tell her all that you can. Tell her to stop. After what you did, she will. Goodbye, Amelia. I wish I got to know you better.” I step back. “What do you mean by that?” He lays down. He closes his eyes. He is gone. “No! NO! You can’t be dead!” he doesn’t hear me. My eyes swell up in tears as I think about earlier. He was not a stupid hydra! He wasn’t the loss of my friends! He was the start of my friends. Mars comes towards me and sets his tail on my shoulder.

Three Months Later

I awake. Mother is cooking breakfast. I get dressed and walk to the table. Mars is waiting at the table. Pluto and Neptune are in human form, talking about something. I sit next to Mars. “Good morning, Amelia.” “Good morning,” I reply. It has been two months since we moved to Shamrock woods. Mars, Pluto, and Neptune live with us now. Mother is no longer a dragon butcher and lives a much happier life hunting with her family. And best of all, I have 9 new friends. For Mercury, Venus, Earth, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune (The other forest spirits) Are my friends now! Ever since the battle, Mars, Pluto, And Neptune are my best friends. “Breakfast is served!” Mother said, placing five plates on the dining table. We all ate breakfast quickly and ran outside. We flew to the snowy beach. All of the dragon torturers’ stuff was cleaned up and our wounds were healed. I finally have friends! I finally have a family! I finally have a home! Every day, I give my respect to the hydra. I give thanks because he is the reason for my happy ending.

The End

Writing Challenge Winner: Painting the Stars by K. Ann

K. Ann is an eighteen-year old writer who completed the 2024 Hero’s Journey Writing Challenge in which she wrote a 5,000 word original short story.

Author Bio:

As the daughter of a Marine, K.Ann grew up in a world near yet strange, her experiences influencing her writing. Going from writing almost every genre to narrowing it down to one specific niche, she writes young adult contemporary and historical fantasy with hints of dystopian. When she’s not writing, you can find her touring her favorite fantasy worlds and her local libraries.

You can connect with her by signing up to her email list https://kannwriter.myflodesk.com/z8s2ldayio, as well as on Pinterest as @kannwriter and Havok Publishing, where she works on the operations team.

Read K. Ann’s original short story, Painting the Stars, below!

I tighten my hoodie, hunching against the sheets of rain pounding my back. My glasses fog for a second, and the auto cleaner function kicks in, clearing the fog as if it had never been there. Good thing I saved and splurged on them. I can see again.

I stare at the gray sidewalk. There was a time when there was color, when there was more than only shades of gray. A time before the Rift.

Not that I remember it. There’s been no color for decades.

I have no idea why, honestly. Why anything with color is illegal. But that’s the North American sector for you. There’s rumors that the South American sector has color, but that’s just it: a rumor. With the borders surrounded by a border of solid darkness, there’s no getting in or out.

I don’t meet anyone’s eyes. I’m pretty sure thinking such treacherous thoughts is illegal.

And there are people who can get access to mind reading devices—if they pay enough.

I just need to be inconspicuous.

My sneakers splash in a deep puddle, and I groan. Water seeps through, and my socks squelch as I take another step. They’re sopping. If only I wasn’t a broke runaway orphan, maybe I could afford hovershoes. But no, all I can get are regular, pre-historic sneakers.

My feet squish as I trudge up the stairs to my apartment. I place my thumb on the doorknob, and the door illuminates for the briefest of seconds. It opens, and I am met with a sparse, drab room. This building used to be a really nice hotel—at least, it was before the Rift. Now, it is one of thousands of apartments rented cheaply since it has none of the amenities the

rich folk have. Like a stove that cooks for you and seasons the food exactly to your taste if you code it to your DNA. That sort of thing.

I close the door behind me and hurry into my bedroom. All I want to do is collapse on my little cot in the corner of the room. But first, I hurry to my closet, yanking out a dry hoodie. One of those automatic drying machines sure would be nice on days like today.

But alas.

After I pull on the hoodie, I rifle through the back of my closet, glancing behind me, praying nobody can see through the walls with the latest x-ray vision goggles. Shoving aside piles of laundry that I’m saving my decis to wash, I unearth a lockbox.

Historically speaking, it’s a safe. But today, safes are locked and unlocked using DNA, not spin dials. So I call it a lockbox.

It’s so ancient that, if authorities ever knock on my door, they won’t be able to unlock it. Or so I hope. I have no clue what technology official investigators have, anyway. Or if they’d be able to use a software to discover the code.

I unlock it—459—and pull out my most prized possessions.

A set of paint and a sketchpad.

The curtains are drawn, and my door is bolted. I’m safe. Or as safe as you can be when you participate in illegal activities in the North American sector.

I sit on the linoleum floor and open the sketchbook to a new page. I’m never quite sure what I’m going to paint until I start, especially since I have never seen anything with color. It’s amazing, really, that pure paint survived the Rift untainted and lasted so many decades.

I wet my brush and select a dusty rose color. I’ve never seen the color of a rose, but it is the color I imagine they are—a pink that seems slightly darker than a normal pink, which is several shades lighter than this current paint. I brush it along the whole canvas.

I then choose a deep eggplant color—it’s probably lighter than a normal eggplant, but it’s the closest I have to what I imagine an eggplant looks like—and mix it with the pink in large strokes.

I choose color after color, and it doesn’t take long to realize I’ve painted something I’ve never seen before except in gray shades—and in my dreams.

A breathtaking sunset.

***

I scan the bag of chips someone has set in front of me, not meeting their eyes. “12 hectos.” They place their hand on the sensor, using the chip implanted there to make their payment. I place the chips in a bag and hand it to them, never once looking at them.

I’m a cashier at the Econautic Fuel station (which sells economically friendly fuel made from completely water).

I only made about 15 hectos an hour, but working ten-hour days at least pays for my apartment and a few packets of ramen, even leaving me a little extra.

Extra for the White Market.

Another person waits behind the one I just checked out. I scan his items, and he pays in real coin.

“Here’s your four centis change.” I place the coins in his hands. “Have a nice day.” “Thank you…” his voice trails off, and I glance up, wondering what he’s staring at. He’s reading my name badge. “Marita.”

“It’s just Rita.” My eyes drop once more to scrutinize the dusty counter. Why did I just say that? I never say anything to anyone beside social niceties.

“Rita, you want color, don’t you?” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.

I drop the hectos he gave me, and they clatter against the register. “Are you insane?” I hiss, my eyes frantically looking at the security bots that can transcribe lip movements.

He raises an eyebrow and taps his glasses. My jaw drops.

He has a mind reading device.

And I just met his eyes.

He’s going to turn me in for the reward of 312 kilos.

That’s ten years of wages right there.

I swallow a little and take a step back, bumping into the mini fridge behind me that holds grown-up drinks. It clatters, the display on top falling to the ground with a loud crash. I scramble to pick it up, my heart racing as my fists clench involuntarily. I need to get out of here. I have to run. Hide. Perhaps move to a different region entirely.

I might even have find a smuggler willing to help me illegally leave the North American sector.

“Excuse me, mam…”

I look up, and a woman with a child on her hip holds out a couple bags of chips.

I smooth my face so that there are no worry lines showing and straighten. “I’m sorry for the delay.” I scan her items, she scans her hand over the sensor, and then I’m alone.

The man is no longer here. Only one thing is. A note.

It says, Meet me at the northern corner on the east side of the White Market at midnight.

***

I’m not sure what I’m expecting, exactly. On all accounts, it would probably be safer to book it and leave town. So why am I sticking around?

That note. It’s somewhat ominous, almost as if my doom is impending. And yet, here I wait, at the northern corner on the east side of the White Market, a little before midnight. The White Market opens at 1 am and closes at 3 am. And I’m here, skulking about before it opens.

Second, why is a man who knows how I long for color to be back in the world not turning me in for the reward?

Curse my curious mind.

I hunch over, blowing on my numb fingers to warm them up. I tug my hood up over my head and draw my hands into my sleeves, then stick them in my pockets.

The distant ding of the Mountain Region clock rings through the air. It’s midnight.

I peer into the darkness. Midnight in the North American sector is dreary, with no stars to paint the sky. I glance up at the eternal expanse, wishing I could see the Milky Way, the starry system I only read about in science books when I was in school.

I’m about ready to forget it and leave—both the White Market and the Mountain Region, potentially the North American sector altogether.

But something stops me.

A figure, darker than the rest of the darkness, approaches. I hesitantly take a step back, furtively glancing around me in hopes that someone—anyone—might be there. In hopes that someone will witness what is about to happen.

But nothing. The White Market won’t open for another hour.

The figure is fast approaching, and I can make out his face a little. It’s the man from the station, the one who accused me of wanting color then left a creepy note.

My breath comes so fast and so thick that it fogs my glasses, and the auto-cleaner function has to work double-time to clear it.

“Rita.” The man stops right in front of me. I don’t meet his eyes, but I take in his figure. He’s not super imposing—rather short for a man, about my height. His cheeks are speckled with freckles.

He lowers his hood, and I see his hair is a deep shade—not a gray, but not solid black either. And, not to mention, the fact that he is wearing mind-reading glasses—they sort of look like the mythological Harry Potter glasses.

I force a little smile and take a small step backward. I don’t lower my hood, but I do remove my hands from my pockets so I can fight if need be. “Who are you?”

He is quiet a moment. “My name is of little consequence.”

“I should think not. A name is important. It’s who you are as a person.” Then I clap my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that, especially not in a time where names are not important and your entire being is shoved into the 28 digit number listed in the chip in your hand. You don’t just go shouting out that names are important when, to the leaders of the North American sector, they’re not.

“Be that as it may.” He clears his throat and glances around again. “Time is short. I need to know where your allegiance lies.”

I stifle a gasp. “W-why, to President Volton, of course.” I salute as I say his name—just like any other citizen would.

He raises an eyebrow. “Really, Rita, I’d think you wouldn’t be such a liar.” “I-I…” I swallow down the lump of fear rising in my throat. “I’m no liar.” “Then why will you not meet my eyes?”

Why indeed?

He sighs. “I’ll be straight with you. You know of the Rift, right?”

Obviously. Everyone knows about how President Volton fifty-eight years ago realized how color influenced people’s minds and made them more susceptible to rebellion. And thus, he went on a journey to discover how to separate color from the world because, without color, there would be no rebellion, and thus less death.

I don’t buy that propaganda, but I give a nod. “We all learned it in grade school.”

He shakes his head. “A bunch of lies. Written by a bunch of liars.” He gives me a wry smile. “Like you.”

I jerk my head and death glare him. “Am not.”

“Are to.” He taps his glasses again, and I grow cold. I did it. Again. Let him read my thoughts.

“What do you want from me?” I whisper.

“That, Rita, is something only you can answer. How badly do you want color into the world?” I dare myself to meet his eyes again, and he reads the answer. “Just as I suspected.” His voice drops to a whisper, and he says, “Let me help you, and together, we will bring color back into the world.”

I give an almost imperceptible nod.

He smiles. “You can call me Orion. Like the hunter who crushes the scorpion.” Oh dear. What have I gotten myself into?

***

The plan is simple: infiltrate Obsidian Holdings, retrieve the famous paintings Starry Night and the Mona Lisa. Each member of the Phoenix Squad has been assigned specific paintings to find there.

The problem with the heist? Oh, the usual—Obsidian Holdings is the largest protection facility for art—mostly, they hold paintings. Other places—like Shadow Holdings or Twilight Holdings—protect the books.

Or, should I say, imprison.

I swallow a gulp as I shudder. Cloaked in darkness, this heist is doomed from the start. Even I know that. It’s not well thought out, for one. Because who plans 27 heists to steal 54 artifacts on the same night?

The dumbo ringleader Scorpius, that’s who. We all have code names and hide our identity, covering anything that might give access to our DNA. So, gloves, hair coverings, face obscurers, the works.

I’m called Sun now. Not Rita anymore. Protection of privacy, or so they say. But I don’t trust Orion to not share that if something better comes his way. I don’t trust him.

Come to think of it, I don’t trust anyone anymore, not since my parents were killed when I was three for secretly writing novels and circulating them to the entire sector.

They were dumbos for being rebels. And here I am, a rebel.

I’m a dumbo.

Sun, do you read? It’s a neurotransmitter installed in my inner ear. It reads my direct thoughts and transmits them back to Orion, who then sends it to Scorpius. And so on and so forth.

I really cannot manage my thoughts right now. Even though anyone could have a mind reading device, and I’m allowing myself to remain completely jumbled inside.

I read. I squint at the window below me—I’m standing on the roof of Obsidian Holdings. Or perhaps I should say I’m laying on the roof of Obsidian Holdings because that is what I’m actually doing. I’m watching the night guards doing their circulations and timing how much time is between them while Scorpius does his hacking thing to take down the cameras inside.

Then begin phase 2.

I roll my eyes and carefully raise the window. No alarms go off, so Scorpius must have pulled through. One advantage to having a master hacker during a heist.

Carefully, carefully I lower myself into the building, changing the settings on my borrowed hovershoes so that I change the surrounding gravity gradually.

One thing for sure about this rebel circle: I get nice gear, better than I ever got as a runaway orphan working at an Econautic Fuel Station.

I peer around, pulling my black hood over my head. I’m wearing a face obscurer, so that if I’m caught nobody will recognize me. Hopefully. Hackers are everywhere, and if someone has a mind reading device, all is lost.

I slowly step down the hall, making my way to one of the galleries.

This is the one. Stop here. The first one is hidden in here.

I approach the door and stop. DNA scanner.

I’ve already removed the sensor. Just go in.

I turn the doorknob and enter the room, glancing around me. I hear steps coming my way, and I quickly shut the door as the guards come into view. Hiding behind a large, ornate vase, I hold my breath as someone marches into the room, does a once-over, and leaves.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I step out of my position. I have seven minutes, more or less, to find the painting Scorpius wants and hide before they’re back.

Describe the painting. I scan the room, searching for something in this room. There is little color here, but there is some. And some means some hope. Hope that color can seep back into this room, this region, this sector. Starting with this painting.

There is a dark black tree-like image that is the focal point, but that is not the main part of the painting. Imagine swirls of glorious colors, with a bright gold sun in the shape of a moon.

A bright gold sun in the shape of a moon? What in the North American sector is that supposed to mean? But I don’t directly think those thoughts because I don’t want Orion to hear them and send them to Scorpius. Will I actually see glorious colors and a bright gold sun?

Perhaps. But perhaps not. Just look for something like what I described. Vague. Obscure observations. Sure I can. My eyes scan the room, searching for something. There are a lot of paintings with hints of color seeping from them, but they’re honestly not very pretty paintings. Probably confiscated from inexperienced painters.

Kinda brilliant, though, hiding a brilliant painting with not-brilliant paintings.

I start peaking behind the stands, looking for something. I’m still not really sure what I’m looking for, though.

And then I see it.

Something so vibrant it hurts my eyes.

I thought my paints were bright, but that is incomparable to this.

The swirls seem to engulf each other, dancing across the canvas over the little town and the tall dark structure.

And the sun! The bright gold sun that looks like a moon doesn’t even begin to describe the majesty. It looks like it is reflected in a water-borne sky with a ripple effect, blending seamlessly into the mystical background.

My hand reaches out to touch it. And that’s when I hear it.

“What are you doing here?”

I whirl around, and there is a guard there, holding a laser taser. “Just taking a little peek. I’ll just be going now.” My hands pick up the painting and hold it behind my back as I slowly inch to the side.

Sun, what is the status report?

Shut up! My mind hisses. I’ve been caught, doofus! I told you this plan was doomed from the start.

Sun, what happened?

I ignore the probing questions and continue my side step. “I just got lost. I’d best be leaving.”

The guard approaches. “You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes try to focus on my face, but he can’t see me well—his pupils go in and out of focus as he tries to see my features.

I grip the painting behind me. I can’t lose this breathtaking piece of art.

The guard shoots the laser, and I dodge it, the painting falling from my hands and skidding across the ground. I leap to my feet and whirl around, the laser shooting toward me again.

I arch my back, and it shoots right past me as I leap through the air toward the guard, knocking straight into him.

He’s out like a lightbulb.

“Oh no, oh no, did I kill him?” I gasp, staring open mouth. But then I realize I can’t just stand here; they’re going to find me. I’ve got to get out of here.

Sun, Sun, do you read?

I ignore the probing and start running, scooping up the painting and turning on my hovershoes as I go. Soon I’m half walking, half flying as I dash toward the open window.

And that’s when a laser hits the obscurer on my face. And a security bot flash blinds me. Oh no oh no oh no. I turn the hovershoes on to the highest setting.

I break through the window, gripping the painting tight, as lasers soar past me into the night sky.

I fly off into the night, just as I see a picture of my face and the words “Wanted: Marita

Davis, 312 kilos” form in the sky.

***

“Sun, what the blazes were you thinking?”

Orion is mad—like, blazing mad. I don’t meet his eyes, since I don’t want him to read my traitorous thoughts to both the North American sector as well as the rebellion, but I can see it in the hardened lines of his jaw.

“What the blazes was I thinking? Fulfilling a dumb mission, what do you expect?” I roll my eyes to the painting in my arms. The colors seem to swirl, filling my vision with beauty. “It was doomed from the start—that many heists in one night is a horrible idea.”

Orion rubs his head. “It was all a farse. The missing paintings were a distraction. You could have left them! And instead you got caught, and we got compromised.”

“Sorry.” I fight surprise but feign sarcasm. “Must’ve missed the memo.”

“Duh. Scorpius was using that opportunity to hack into the government’s security banks to find the secret to how they keep color locked up!”

I glance at the painting in my hands. “They haven’t done a good job of it.”

Orion rubs his temples then sits down on a bench, leaning against the muddy gray building. “There’s a reason for that.”

I plant a hand on my hip, then remember the painting and straighten so as to not soil it. “A reason? How could—” Remembering to play it cool, I rephrase what I was saying. “Why would the government not get rid of color if they could?”

“No, no, no, not that sort of reason.” Orion takes the painting from my hands, and I clench my fists, biting my tongue to keep from yelling at him to give it back. I feel sort of… empty without it. He examines it closely and shakes his head. “The key, my dear Rita, is creativity. And you just broadcasted yourself—and the painting—to the entire nation!”

“Sun.” I reach out and touch the painting, feeling a surge of something run through my fingers. “Sorry. And creativity? What is that?”

“Think of your parents, Rita.” His brows furrow at me, his tone calming as he sees me touching the painting. He pulls it slightly away again, and my body grows cold. “Think of the artist of this painting. Think of yourself. What do you all have in common?”

And that’s when I understand—my parents could not be suppressed. Their life work, their creativity could not be stopped. They had to write, like I had to paint. Just like the artist had topaint this starry night.

Creativity. It’s powerful.

I touch the painting again with a renewed spirit. Light pours out of the painting and into me, streaming through my consciousness and into my very soul. The world seems to explode around me, weaving together in streams of majesty I have never seen before except in weak imitations.

Color.

It’s in me, around me, through me.

It doesn’t matter that I’m a wanted criminal.

What does matter is sharing this beauty with the rest of the sector.

I stare at Orion, and he nods at me. “Rita, you have the gift of creativity—don’t let them take it from you. If those few with creativity are silenced, then there is no hope for restoration of the sector.” He stares into my eyes—his brown eyes with flecks of gold in them. “Will you join me?”

“I’ve already done so,” I say, my eyes taking in his entire personage. His dusty brown hair, his eyes that match, his pale freckled skin, his pinkish lips

I think I want to kiss those lips.

I shake my head to clear that strange urge as Orion continues speaking. “Not that rebellion—the inner rebellion, where we share creativity with the world. I don’t care about hacking and stealing and setting fires. I want to restore the sector. Will you join me, Rita?”

I meet his eyes once more, removing my gaze from his lips. “Yes, Orion, I will help you.” His eyes bore into my own. “It’s not Orion. It’s Dustin.”

I smile. That’s the perfect name for him. “What do we do first, Dustin?”

***

Color seems to spring from my every step. Everywhere, there is overwhelming, swirling colors.

And Dustin can see it, too. I know that now. His desire for a rebellion to overwhelm the world, his mind-reading device so he can find those who are sympathizers to the cause and who might have the gift of creativity inside, his joining with a dumb revolution leader so that he can gain access to art that can cause the spark of creativity in someone to burn to an inferno.

And now, it’s my turn.

I can’t get into my apartment because my DNA will entrap me and garner authorities to the scene, but I don’t need my paint to do this.

All I need is a touch. This one singular painting might not be enough, but it will be the spark. The spark to bring color back.

“Scorpius, we need you to hack into the government broadcasting system.” Dustin stands, leaning against the leader’s desk.

Scorpius rolls his eyes. “Not happening. They’ve blocked my signals.”

I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms and staring him down. “Guess you’re not a master hacker, then.”

“Guess not.”

Blazes. Reverse psychology didn’t work.

“For goodness’ sake. Move over.” I push his arm, and when he doesn’t budge from his chair, I grab his computer mouse and start scrolling. I have no clue how to hack, but maybe this will get him to help us.

I start clicking and clacking away, and Scorpius huffs. “You’re ruining my algorithms.” “Your algorithms, huh?” I highlight a section of code and hover my finger over the ‘delete’ button. “You going to help us or am I going to delete this?”

“Fine, I’ll help you. I can scramble the signal and get you access to the broadcasting system.” He grabs my hand and yanks it aside, and Dustin looks about ready to blow when he sees the man touching me. But Scorpius just grabs the mouse and the pad and starts frantically typing and muttering to himself, strings of code pouring forth from his fingers. “Get ready. What are you broadcasting?”

“This.” Dustin holds up the painting. “Make this the entire sky.” Scorpius’s eyebrows raise. “All over the sector?”

“All over the sector.” I narrow my eyes. “Unless I need to destroy your code?”

“Nope, I got this.” Scorpius takes a little scanner camera thing, and a laser light scans the painting and deposits the image as code into the system.

“We need to have our voices hooked up to the system,” I say. “As soon as you start broadcasting the painting.”

Scorpius’s face goes pale. “They’ll be able to track us if we do that.”

Dustin interjects. “Do it.” The determination in his voice strengthens me. I’m a wanted criminal, but this is worth the risk.

Scorpius mutters something intelligible, then starts typing frantically. He pulls a recorder device from a drawer and connects it to the computer. “Start talking. I’m broadcasting. We have less than ten minutes before they can trace the signal and five minutes for them to get here.”

I grab the device and start talking. “Hello, citizens of the North American Sector. My name is Marita Davis, and I’m a lot like you—someone who has something to hide from the government.”

Dustin takes the mic. “I am Dustin Skies. I seek to remedy the problems that the government has infringed on us. Namely, the dystopian world they have perpetrated in locking up creativity.”

I take over. “Look at the sky. Look at the stars painted in the sky. The colors. The vividness of them. Look what we’re missing. Look at the intricacy of it, and consider this: why has the government locked up color?”

“They’ve traced us,” Scorpius hisses, frantically tapping away as his brow sweats.

“So we don’t get the idea to rebel against them!” Dustin exclaims. He is also sweating. “And has that worked? No! They’ve locked up our paintings, our books, our creativity, and to what end? We’re rebelling anyway!”

Clattering noises ring through the building, and I bite my lip. But I can’t freeze now. My voice gains strength as I continue. “Authorities are on the way here to stop us right now. But our voices will not be silenced. Our words will not be stopped. Look at the stars painted in the sky! Let that creativity abound inside you.”

The door crashes open, and someone screams, “Hands in the air or you’re getting tased!” “Don’t let your voices be silenced!” Dustin cries. “Don’t let your creativity be squelched!”

“I’ve lost the signal!” Scorpius yells.

“Silence!”

The room swarms with officials, and I grab Dustin’s hand. He turns to me and wraps his arms around me, his lips pressing hard against mine for a split second before the officials grab our arms and wrench us apart.

“Don’t tell them anything!” Dustin screams. Someone tases him, and he slumps to the floor, unconscious.

I make myself go limp, but I don’t fight. Neither does Scorpius, other than reaching out his finger to his the “delete all” button on his computer. And he gets tased for that.

I touch my lips, and they take us away.

The End.

What’s Ashley Reading?: A Twisted Love Story

A Twisted Love Story by Samantha Downing

First line: Wes can’t get the song out of his head.

Summary: Wes and Ivy have a deep relationship. They love each other beyond words. But at times they also hate each other with a fierce passion. In their on-again off-again relationship they have damaged property, taken revenge and called the cops. But during one of their breakups they did something that they refuse to discuss. However, a police detective is digging into their past and it may lead to the darkest night of their lives. Can they stay together through everything? Or will this finally destroy them?

My Thoughts: The characters and their relationship was a disaster in this book! I could not believe how these people acted towards each other. No one was likeable. There is not someone to really cheer for. It is just a big train wreck. But I did think that some of the petty things were pretty ingenious.

I don’t know how to feel about this book. It is a domestic thriller dealing more with personal relationships than anything else. There are flashes back to times during Wes and Ivy’s past relationships that gives us a look at their troubled history which leads to the night that changed everything. Much of the reasons behind the drama was spurred on by them. If they hadn’t been vengeful then it would not have led to other events. It just seemed to be a cycle and became repetitive. But then the story just comes to an end. I didn’t feel like there was a real conclusion. I just did not like it as much as some of Downing’s other books.

FYI: Abuse, assault and violence.

The Lineup: Eric

Eric’s Lineup

Book: Isolate by L.E. Modesitt, Jr.

My reading tastes tend to be pretty straightforward. I read non-fiction history, classic British mysteries and science fiction fantasy. I don’t read quite as much sci-fi/fantasy as I used to, but L. E. Modesitt remains one of my favorite authors.

Isolate is the first book in his newest series. It is set in a steampunk world with steamers (steam powered automobiles) and the beginnings of an industrial age. There are empaths who can detect emotions in others and use their feelings to protect or attack, susceptibles who are particularly able to be influenced by empaths, and isolates who are immune to empaths. While not devoid of action, much of the writing focuses around political intrigue and an exploration of issues that face society and government. I definitely enjoy the world building and the exploration of character that Modesitt portrays in this book. This is definitely a book I would recommend for those who enjoy reading intricate fantasy novels.

Available to check out here.

Music: Smash by The Offspring

This is probably my favorite album of all time. Growing up in the 80s and 90s, I have always been a huge fan of the pop punk scene. This album started all of that for me. At the time, it was the highest grossing indie album ever, though I had no idea of that. I enjoyed that they sang about real life events but didn’t take themselves too seriously. It has quite a bit of strong language; I remember playing this cassette on the stereo in my room and having to turn it down whenever there was an extended bout of swearing. I don’t listen to The Offspring quite as much as I used to (I have two children with me much of the time), but they definitely remain a favorite.

Available to stream here or any music streaming services.

Hobby: Home Brewing

I really enjoy tasting craft beer and am a huge fan of Central Standard Brewing. However, there is a lot to be said for making something yourself, which is what got me into home brewing. I started simply about 10 years ago as an extract brewer with kits that I purchased online. Extract brewing involves taking a malt syrup extract or powder, boiling it with 3 or so gallons of water on your stove while adding hops and then putting it into a vessel to ferment. When it is done fermenting, you add some sugar and bottle it up. In 4 to 6 weeks you have beer.

I made some good beer this way, but when you are a home brewer you are always looking to up your game. At the start of the pandemic and unable to visit many of our favorite places, my friend and I decided to recommit to home brewing. He has an all grain system in his garage, so we started brewing exclusively on that. We began to develop our own recipes and have produced some excellent beer. While brewing does require a high level of cleanliness and precision, it is definitely a rewarding hobby. It’s a lot of fun to share a beer with your friends and hear, “You brewed this? It’s really good!”

TV Show: Castle

Growing up, I used to watch a show called Murder She Wrote with my mother. We both enjoyed its lighthearted nature and trying to figure out the killer before the reveal.

Fast forward twenty or so years, and my wife introduced me to a show called Castle. Just like Murder She Wrote, it features a mystery writer who solves murders when the police appear to be baffled. The two leads, Nathan Fillion and Stana Katic, have great chemistry that makes the show fun to watch. I enjoy the witty repartee and discovering who the killer is. True, it’s a bit more intense than Murder She Wrote, but it’s still a fun show. Like many long running TV series, I would definitely saw that the first three seasons are the best, though the series remains fun throughout.

Available to check out the first season here.

What’s Ashley Reading?: The Marriage Portrait

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell

First line: Lucrezia is taking her seat at the long dining table, which is polished to a watery gleam and spread with dishes, inverted cups, a woven circlet of fir.

Summary: Lucrezia de’ Medici is the third daughter of the grand duke of Florence. She has always been considered a little different than her siblings. Her family has given her freedom but also the same learning as her brothers. After the death of her sister she is suddenly pushed into a betrothal with her sister’s fiancé, the duke of Ferrara. Even though she fears this marriage she is a dutiful daughter. At first things seem to be going well with her husband but as time passes without an heir she starts to worry that something sinister is brewing in the duke’s mind.

My Thoughts: This book was beautifully written. I love O’Farrell’s style. It is almost poetic in the way it flows. For some it may not be their style and seem rather slow but I found it perfect for the period and subject.

Very little is known about the events of Lucrezia’s life but O’Farrell does a wonderful job of filling out the story and the characters. The narrative flashes back and forth between her childhood and the time of her marriage. I found the scenes with her husband to be dark and sinister. She is worried he is trying to kill her but she continues to question her feelings. As a reader I could feel the tension as she tried to decide how to handle her precarious situation.

If you loved Hamnet then I believe you will find this one just as intriguing. It has the same feeling of dread approaching with the same lyrical writing. I would highly recommend it be savored with a glass of wine on a crisp fall day.

What’s Ashley Reading?: The House on Mango Street

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

First line: The boys and the girls live in separate worlds.

Summary: Told through vignettes, the reader is taken through the life of a young Latina girl in Chicago.

My Thoughts: This was like peeking into the a scrapbook or the memory of a young girl. We get little snippets of information about the people around her, the life on her street and her thoughts as things change over time. It was a sweet little book. I listened to the audio version which is read by the author and has introduction by her as well. Some of the stories gave me nostalgia for my childhood playing with neighborhood kids but even though it was similar it was also very different. This is a great choice for Big Read Wichita. It can open up many conversations and be incorporated into programs and learning experiences.

FYI: This is something that can be read in one sitting. Pick it up and join us at the library for our many events between February and May.

What’s Ashley Reading?: The Hidden

The Hidden by Melanie Golding

First line: Leonie presses her palm to the outside of the shop window.

Summary: Ruby has spent many nights watching her neighbor do yoga. She is startled when she notices his previously unknown family. After a chance encounter with her neighbor she is invited into his world. Even though she is drawn to Gregor she feels that she cannot interfere with his family. But as she gets to know Gregor, Constance and their daughter, Leonie, she finds out that the Gregor she knows is not the same as the one seen by his family. With each encounter, Ruby becomes more convinced that Constance and Leonie need to leave and she plans to help them.

My Thoughts: Melanie Golding does a great job again by merging a thriller with mythical events. In the story, Ruby believes that Constance has some mental issues when she talks of her life in the sea. How does this woman believe that she was once a seal?! And as a reader I kept wondering if I believed her or not too. It seems outlandish but also Constance really believes it to be true.

The story is told during different time hops. We see Ruby’s sister dealing with the near death of man in his bathtub, Ruby meeting Gregor and memories of a man who has done some dastardly deeds. As a reader you know that it is all leading to one point but how it’s going to get there is the fun of it. When everything comes together it was shocking. There are many little things from Gregor’s past that make the story thrilling. I could not wait to get to the end as I was reading. It was an elaborate cat and mouse game until the very end! And I was not disappointed.

FYI: Thriller with a mystical twist.

*This can be found on Hoopla in eBook and eAudiobook form.

What’s Ashley Reading?: Best Wishes, Warmest Regards

Best Wishes, Warmest Regards by Daniel Levy and Eugene Levy

First line: When we were first approached about putting a book together we asked ourselves the same question that was raised when we first started making Schitt’s Creek over seven years ago: what can we do with this opportunity?

Summary: In this delightful coffee table book the creators of Schitt’s Creek look back on creating and the legacy of this show that took over awards season. It is filled with pictures, character features and insights into episodes.

My Thoughts: I LOVE Schitt’s Creek! But it took me several months of being told about how much I would love it before I started watching. Once I did, I binged it. I have re-watched the show several times, can quote many pieces of the show and have a Christmas ornament with David Rose on it.

This book is not something most people would sit down and read. It is more something to look at the pictures but I read it from front to back. I loved hearing from the cast about their experiences and insights into their characters. Each person brought something different to the show, the town and their characters.

But I think my favorite part was when they showed all of David’s knits and Moira’s wigs. There are so many! And then each was put with a quote from the scene the costumes were used in. I never realized how much thought went into each piece. This gave me a lot of new information about the show. It seems like a good time to re-watch Schitt’s Creek again! Best wishes, warmest regards!

FYI: Very heavy coffee table book but wonderful to look through if you love the Rose family!

The Lineup: Tami

Tami’s Lineup

Podcast: The Villian was Right

My latest fun listen is a light-hearted romp. Comedians Craig and Rebecca take a look at movies and television from the villain’s perspective and dare to ask if they were really all that bad. The hosts go into detail about movie or series characters and their motivations, and theorize whether or not they deserve to be the hero or villain.

Was Ariel really innocent? Or was Ursula just trying to run a small business?

What I find especially fun is that Craig and Rebecca don’t just review the obvious movies. They look into Father of the Bride, Legally Blonde, Bridget Jones’ Diary, the Magic School Bus, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Friends, Mary Poppins and many, many more. I recommend you start with Ferris Buller’s Day Off, Jurassic Park or the Incredibles.

*Available on Spotify, Apple, or here: https://www.fromsuperheroes.com/the-villain-was-right

Book: Project Hail Mary

I whole-heartedly recommend this recent read. If you like science fiction with actual science, this is for you. If you like stories with interesting, well developed characters, this also has that. If you want excitement and a thrilling plot, here you go. If you want romance and sex, well, there you’re completely out of luck.

I challenge you to read the first five pages and NOT want to keep reading. What an opening! Ryland Grace wakes up alone with no clue where he is or how he got there. His body isn’t responding the way it should and he struggles with the fog that is keeping rational thoughts at bay. He slowly comes to the realization that he’s hurtling through space and his crew mates are dead. While that opening alone is enough to keep me turning pages, Weir infuses Ryland with unique wit and humor that elevates the story beyond the run of the mill science fiction thriller.

As Ryland’s memory returns, he flashes back to the past and slowly reveals how he ended up as the sole-survivor of this last-chance mission to save Earth. And as things seem hopeless, he finds glimmers of hope in unexpected places. He also just might be the perfect person for the job.

This well-written novel is a mix of things: science fiction, mystery, fantasy, thriller. There’s a diverse cast as the entire planet comes together to save humanity. And I can only hope Hollywood takes notice.

*Available as a physical book in the KanShare catalog or as an ebook via the Sunflower eLibrary/Libby app.

Music: Equals by Ed Sheeran

Okay, so this one hasn’t completely been released yet, but I am eagerly awaiting it. And fortunately, I have heard a couple early release tracks, so I think it’s fair to add to my line up list.

The album is set to drop October 29. It’s been 4 long years since we last heard songs featuring solo artist Ed Sheeran playing and singing all by himself (no collaborations). I have read interviews about this release and it appears the songs are all personal to him as a recently married man and father who has experienced loss. Sheeran says the album is a reflection of those experiences. For a man to state that this is a coming of age album, I feel it should be chocked full of nostalgia, eye awakening moments and experiences that make us who we are. Bad Habits, one of the early release titles is dance music story of late night bad choices while Visiting Hours is a heartfelt, personal sort of song you play in the bluest hours. It’s raw and emotional.

*I believe the library will be purchasing and adding this title to the catalog for checkout. I don’t see it there yet, but all the other Sheeran albums are, so it’s a good guess it’s coming soon.

Television: Below Deck Mediterranean

In another year, where I haven’t been able to travel abroad like I planned, I am “escaping” via my television and “reality” TV.

What I like? No dull waiting period–this is entertaining IMMEDIATELY.

This show has it all: attractive people, vastly different personalities, relatable protagonists, loathsome antagonists, money and a BIG yacht. It’s fun, interesting, and has changing locals (Greece, Croatia, Italy, South of France and Mallorca). The guests are interesting. There’s TIGHT quarters (GREAT for drama), a social element and very merit-based workplace element.

I think the two most important components of any reality show are the “characters” and the editing. The characters here are in spades, but the editing brings us the stories, and man do they make the stories POP! Hats off to the editing staff. I think we all like to see justice because we so rarely get it in real life, and the editors don’t let anyone get away with ANYTHING. When someone does something stupid, we get to see the consequences, which is a great little respite from real life. I also love the insight you get, to see all that goes on under the surface of a luxury yacht.

*Available on Bravo network or free on Peacock

Family Outing: Wild Lights at Sedgwick County Zoo

This one I am super excited to get out and see for myself. Recently, when I volunteered at the Zoo for Zoobilee and the new Asian Big Cat exhibit grand opening, I discovered that Sedgwick County Zoo has a new “Wild Lights” exhibit in the works. Think Asian lantern sculptures illuminating paths throughout the zoo.

The company who has provided and set up the exhibit brought in 13 semi-truck loads of giant animal lanterns. These creatures are spread out throughout the zoo. They are everywhere! Installation began in early September. The exhibit has filled the zoo with 47 glowing Asian lanterns, most of them larger than life.

They’re in the shapes of animals. Guests will find pandas, elephants, turtles, rhinos as well as other displays in the shapes of flowers, bugs, fish, butterflies, and plants. Many of them are animated: A peacock’s plume of feathers goes up and down every five minutes. A baby panda spins with a ball on his head. A massive crocodile opens and closes his giant jaw. About six people accompanying the tour, which travels to zoos all over the world, spent a month erecting the wire frames that form each sculpture’s “bones” then covering them with translucent fabric and filling them with colorful lights. It will take visitors about an hour to walk the path where the sculptures are set up, which stretches from the zoo entrance to the gorilla exhibit and back to the exit. Not only do they set up the lights, but they stay here in Wichita throughout the show to maintain the exhibit.

I plan to enjoy the zoo like never before with this larger-than-life Chinese lantern festival!

*Wild Lights will light up the zoo Wednesday through Sunday nights 6:00-9:00 p.m. through December 5, 2021. Tickets are on sale now at scz.org/event/wild-lights.

Food: Seasonal Soups and Stews

It’s that time of year – fall (or maybe the fringe of fall with our ever changing Kansas weather). Maybe you’ve noticed the chill in the air, or that the leaves are starting to turn shades of orange and red. The first pumpkin spice lattes of the season have already been sipped, and perhaps you’ve taken out the sweaters that make you feel like Cameron Diaz courting Jude Law in a cozy cottage in the English countryside. But is it really sweater season without a pot of soup bubbling away? Or a hearty stew on the table, served with a fistful of crusty bread? A few veggies, possibly some beans, aromatics and broth are just about all you need for a satisfying meal.

So let this be my reminder to you. If you have yet to avail yourself of all the ways your local library can help you be a better, more inquisitive cook (or simply save you some money) there’s no better time than now. With many of us cooking at home more than ever, we could all use a little jolt of inspiration and novelty. Or just some escapist reading. Take a look at our KanShare catalog for in print cook books, Sunflower eLibrary (Libby app) for eCookbooks and magazines, Pinterest and the good ole internet for general browsing! You are sure to find something new to try.

I’m sharing my easy-peasy Taco Soup recipe. It’s a go to my family always loves. Hope you will too!

Slow Cooking Taco Soup – 6 to 8 servings

1 lb ground beef

1 large onion, chopped

16 oz can Mexican-style tomatoes

16 oz can whole-kernel corn, undrained

16 oz can red beans, undrained

16 oz can black beans, undrained

16 oz can ranch beans

16 oz jar picante sauce (your choice on mild, medium or hot)

Optional additions when serving:

Sour cream

Shredded cheddar cheese

Corn or tortilla chips

Brown meat and onions in skillet. Drain.
Combine with all other vegetables and picante sauce in slow cooker.
Cover. Cook on low 4-6 hours
Serve with corn or tortilla chips, sour cream and shredded cheese as toppings.

Quotables

Ah, yes, the long lasting literary quote. We all know them. They are beautiful and meaningful and eternal.

They aren’t usable in everyday conversation, though.

Here are a few lines us library-workers have clung to over the years, beautiful or not. These are the lines we use in our everyday conversation. The ones our spouses hear, and may or may not know actually come from one of our favorite pieces of media.

Ah, yes, the long lasting literary quote. We all know them. They are beautiful and meaningful and eternal.

They aren’t usable in everyday conversation, though.

Justin:

Oh, The Weather outside is weather! | Favorite movie quotes, Forgetting sarah marshall quotes, Weather quotes — Paul Rudd as Chuck in “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”

It's not a lie if you believe it – SDI Guy — ” Jason Alexander as George Costanza in “Seinfeld”

Eric:

21 Alone in my principles ideas | i movie, movies, favorite movies — From “That Thing You Do”.

Whenever someone is being stubborn [we say this] to give them a hard time. It’s normally modified a bit [to fit the situation] but the quote is essentially the same.