Silent Sunday

photo - a view from the Czocha castle - courtesy of my brother, thanks a lot!

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Below you can find the picture posted last Monday:

I decided to be a good girl and write just a short story concerning the pic of the week (yes, I did take a leaf out of Bloddeued's book composing this one). If you wish to read the continuation of Kanji's story, state so in your comment - I might write it another time, maybe next week.

Her wish finally came true. She was younger and beautiful again. The most beautiful woman in the whole kingdom. There was just one snag - she lost her memory. Completely. She stood there, in the middle of a forest, her precious truth-saying mirror lying in the grass, not remembering her name, her identity, her purpose in life. She has forgotten what to do with her hands and feet. She has forgotten her mother tongue. Her brain was one big blank slate with nothing left apart from the simplest impulses and reactions.

Hunger. Fear. Pain. Keeping her balance to stand upright. Cold shadows. Sunlight on her arms. Everything new and strange as if she was standing on an alien planet and experiencing completely new feelings for the first time in her life. Suddenly she felt a pricking sensation on the nape of her head. She turned - another instinctive reaction. A small girl dressed in white with big opalescent wings of a giant butterfly was standing nearby, observing her with a casual, cheeky smirk. Any other human would say that the face of the child was cruel and mean but she couldn't know that much. She has forgotten how to read people's facial expressions. All she was able to do was to copy the smile. It seemed weird but somehow right.

"Are you happy now, my queen?" asked the girl, smiling wider and showing tiny, white, pointy teeth, belonging rather to an animal's mouth than to that of a human. Not getting an answer she cocked her head to one side. She would look cute indeed if only her face were less predatory.

" Do you understand me at all, my queen? You have forgotten how to talk, haven't you? If you can't answer I guess I am right, don't bother, I'm just checking the effectiveness of my spell. I would love to get Snow White see you in your current state, though - I bet she would laugh her pretty head off and kiss my both cheeks for such a fine piece of magical work. Bye for now and just in case, never make a deal with a fairy again. You are definitely not smart enough."

The child disappeared in a flash of shimmering light. The scene left her totally perplexed. She did hear the words and they somehow sounded familiar but she didn't understand their meaning. Now she faced another, far more urgent puzzle. How to move a leg?

Wishful Wednesday, 17 August

The meme is hosted by Brooke from Brooke Bluestocking Guide.

 Welcome to Wishful Wednesday! 

This week my wish is simple, nice and oh so predictable... a new book of  

David Liss was published on August 9th by Random House. Its title is: 

The Twelfth Enchantment

Here is the blurb (from Goodreads):

Lucy Derrick is a young Regency woman of good breeding and poor finances: after the death of her father, she is forced to maintain a shabby dignity as an unwanted boarder with her unpleasant uncle, fending off marriage to the local mill owner, Mr. Olson. But her prospects of even that unwanted match are complicated by the appearance of a beautiful stricken man who appears on the family doorstep begging her not to marry Mr. Olson just as he collapses. This appearance seems to open the door to a series of increasingly strange occurrences surrounding Lucy. Soon it becomes clear that there is more at stake than her own happiness — and that she is caught between two forces, one ancient and one modern — and that the soul of her very country is at stake.

Summer mini review: My Life as A White Trash Zombie by Diana Rowland

Book info:

• Paperback: 320 pages
• Publisher: DAW; Original edition (July 5, 2011)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0756406757
• ISBN-13: 978-0756406752
• Target audience: adults
• Genre: urban fantasy, thriller, crime mystery

Synopsis:

Angel Crawford’s life has never been nice and easy. In fact, metaphorically speaking, she was born with a big L for a loser emblazoned in the middle of her forehead. Her mother was mentally ill and died in her childhood; her father, after an accident on an oil rig, was rendered crippled, became an alcoholic and started to beat and humiliate his daughter. Angel dropped out of school at 16 and after that she seemed to be on a steep slippery slope to a totally wasted life – drugs, alcohol, a petty criminal boyfriend and finally a jail sentence for fencing. One night everything changes, though - Angel argues with her boyfriend and picks up another guy in a bar to spite him. As usual with her, the choice couldn't have been worse. After getting drunk and drugged Angel leaves the bar with that guy and almost dies in a car crash. Almost, because somebody decided to give her another chance and turned her into a zombie (no, I don’t consider it a spoiler taking into account the title of the novel. Go sue me ;)).

The book opens with Angel waking up in the hospital after the accident. She was brought in as a suspected overdose and rape victim – policemen found her lying naked on the side of a road. Her scattered memories and the mysterious package left for her at the hospital hint at something entirely different than just a nasty date and an accident, though. Angel is given an anonymous message, telling her that a new job awaits her; she must keep it for a month or she goes back to jail (she is still on a parole). Next to the message there are some containers with strange coffee-flavoured stuff – she is supposed to drink it once a day.

Angel is directed to a local morgue and becomes a van driver and a morgue tech, helping with autopsies and such. I know, a rather grim choice of a job for a young woman but somehow Angel doesn’t mind. After a very short period of time she becomes even fond of her job as it provides her, apart from a decent wage, with a substance necessary for her survival and normal functioning (guess what). Of course the reasons why she has been turned into a zombie and who her mysterious saviour is are revealed only at the end of the book. In fact the majority of the novel is about how being turned into a zombie is one of the best things that has ever happened to her – otherwise she might have never had the strength to change the odds and do something positive with her life. Oh, and don’t forget a bit of mystery - a serial killer starts murdering people around, cutting their heads off. Angel suspects a fellow zombie has gone rogue and finding the perpetrator asap is in her best interest (braaaaiiiiiiiiiinss are becoming scarce).

What I liked:

I must admit it: I am not a fan of zombies (smelly, messy, disgusting, psychologically simplistic creatures they are) so I was a bit skeptical about this premise at first. The title was provocative, though and the Dan Dos Santos' cover art sold me on giving this one a chance, especially as I’ve read so many enthusiastic reviews on other blogs. I'm glad I did. Here are the reasons why:

· This book is filled with surprisingly complex characters and really decent story lines.

· Reading about Angel's prior decline and present rise, while stumbling through her revelations on becoming a zombie was a hoot. As a main female lead she is naïve enough to be realistic, prickly enough to make you laugh more than once and sympathetic enough to make you forget about her little zombie problem and root for her. She is a heroine you can connect to easily even though she could be one after your brain.

· I loved the supporting cast (now it is clear Ms Rowland has worked with the police force) and even, surprise, surprise, the little love story at the end. It was very nice indeed.

· The narration was quick and clean, the mystery full of surprising twists – overall it was a very pleasant, entertaining read. Rowland puts new twists on old ideas in a very clever way in this one and she never grosses out her readers.

· Finally, don’t mistake this book for a fluffy pink romance with some local zombie colouring. Although it features a white-trashy redneck heroine with a pill addiction, it has surprisingly deep moments. After all it deals with the problem of finding a better way of life when you are an underdog and nobody provides you with any clues.

What I didn’t like:

· It was too short. I would gladly read a sequel. Even with a pink cover. Pretty please.

Final verdict:

A very nice surprise and a great summer read – Ms Rowland’s zombies definitely exceeded my expectations. I recommend this book even for those who are, like me, not exactly zombie fans. I liked it far better than the previous novel of the same author, Mark of the Demon, reviewed by me not so long ago.

Musical Monday 15 August

Welcome to Musical Monday! 

What new great songs have you heard recently (I mean new for you, of course) ? What songs do you eagerly return to? Would you like to share?  Here is my pick for this Monday - Adele and "I set fire to the rain" song. Enjoy!

I let it fall, my heart,
And as it fell, you rose to claim it,
It was dark and I was over,
Until you kissed my lips and you saved me,
My hands, they were strong, but my knees were far too weak,
To stand in your arms without falling to your feet,

But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew,
All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true,
And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win,

But I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried,
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name,

When laying with you I could stay there,
Close my eyes, feel you here forever,
You and me together, nothing is better,

'Cause there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew,
All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true,
And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win,

But I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried,
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
I set fire to the rain,
And I threw us into the flames,
Well, I felt something die,
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time,

Sometimes I wake up by the door,
And heard you calling, must be waiting for you,
Even that when we're already over,
I can't help myself from looking for you,

I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touch your face,
Well, it burned while I cried,
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name
I set fire to the rain,
And I threw us into the flames,
Well, I felt something die,
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time, oh,
Oh, no,
Let it burn, oh,
Let it burn,
Let it burn.

Silent Sunday

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Below you can find the picture posted last Monday:

Right. I agree with Tink/Dottie - a great choice, Blodeuedd, an incredible picture, full of mystery and potential, begging for a new, interesting story, but... I promised to continue and now I was scratching my head, wondering how to do it... Well, I tried and here are the results - it is the part three of Kanji's story from the previous weeks.


When you regain consciousness, it is really difficult to say how long you was out. One minute, one hour? Maybe half a day? Kanji opened his eyes asking himself that very question. He found no answer but still was nicely surprised. He was lying in a comfortable four-poster bed in a big, well-lit room. His head was woolly and tender but no longer aching. He felt better, loads better than previously when he had woken up in a gutter. He tried to pinpoint the exact reason. After a while he found out there were several of them.

Firstly he was clean. He didn't smell like homeless trash any longer, his hair was still damp after washing and his numerous cuts and bruises were either covered by an ointment or dressed properly. Secondly he had some fresh clothes on and they seemed to be made of purest silk. He'd always felt good in silk. He smiled. Somebody not only had rescued him from the gutter but also had taken good care of him and contributed to his well-being. Everything was right again - he was a prince, he deserved the best and he got it, failure or not failure.

Then he closed his eyes and reminded himself of that particular rescuer. It dampened his spirits a bit and Kanji frowned. True, it was a beautiful young lady but at that time she didn't seem exactly the epitome of sympathy and kindness. She had spoken to him harshly, without due respect; she even mentioned, imagine the cheek, a price for helping him...or maybe it was just his feverish imagination playing tricks again and again? Perhaps she'd changed her mind? He had such an effect on ladies after all, he thought vainly - after taking a closer look at him most women definitely became nicer, softer and more forthcoming. It was a universal truth: his face was regular, smooth and pleasant, his body - well-muscled, lean and proportionate; in short he was the handsomest among six brothers, really nice to look at. Or touch. Or pamper. Immersed in more pleasant thoughts, smiling in reminiscence, he didn't realise somebody was standing next to his bed until he felt a straw touching his upper lip.

"Drink, Kanji. You are thirsty."

It was her voice and her perfume - his rescuer didn't forget about his needs. Now he felt real thirst and here you go, she was giving him something to drink immediately. Good service - it should be always that way. He took several satisfied sips of a liquid which tasted like diluted, spiced wine and tried to open his eyes again. He couldn't.

He was sleeping again. In his dream he saw another female face. Her head was covered by some dark cloth, her silhouette almost indiscernible from the swirling darkness. The woman's facial features were definitely alien, as if she came from a foreign country: large, round eyes, a short, rather wide but graceful nose, lovely lips, red and full. Kanji wouldn't mean such a slave, even a concubine. He smiled. The woman held a bottle with green, luminous substance in her hands and was offering it to him. Kanji took it - he always liked gifts and he was intrigued by her.

"Will it help me?" he asked.

The woman nodded and started to cry.