Rebecca Cohen: Rough Flight

‘Rough Flight’ is a fun, fantasy flash fiction with a massive twist in the tail (which I honestly didn’t see coming when I read it) that Rebecca wrote for a Queer Sci Fi anthology a few years ago. Like this? Then why not check out her other books and writing at her website?

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Pic credit: Country Life magazine

Flashes of light blazed across Kalt’s retinas. Already disorientated, his mind spiraled out of control, and an urge to move towards the brightness churned deep inside his third stomach. He should’ve heeded the advice of his third wife, or it was his second husband?

“Nothing is ever free, and the cheaper it seems the higher the price.”

His heart hammered and his throat constricted as he was engulfed in the torrent of white. After everything he had seen, the worlds he’d saved, and destroyed, it would end here. Alone, the buzzing in his ears the only requiem of his death as he left his mortal body and flew higher. The taste in his mouth reminiscent of lost good times, a tang of blood with a side of bitter tears. He swallowed past the lump of the untasted poison that had signed the final death warrant that no interstellar warden had been able to complete.

Kalt was ready. Bring on the afterworld. He would face it with the same relentlessness he’d enjoyed in life – once he could stand up without falling to his knees. His final journey in this realm would not be his last. He would spread his wings further in the next cycle, burn even brighter.

He held out his arms and waited for the collection. Something grabbed his wrist, he tried to scream and the next thing he knew he was face down, cheek against cold metal and a pair of boots at eye level. “For fuck’s sake, Kalt. I told you not to eat those gigaberries. You were tripping through hyperspace. You dick.”

Kalt rolled onto his back to see the unamused face of his current lover, Diflin, a rugged man with a sense of humor that needed work. “I’m fine. Just a rough flight.”

Rebecca Cohen: The Death of Adonis

Here’s a new, classically-inspired poem by Rebecca Cohen that’s chock full of meaning, sometimes lurking between the lines! If you like this, why not check out Rebecca’s books, which include the lovely Crofton Hall series, both historical and contemporary.

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Pic credit: Brent Connolly on Pixabay.com

Once a golden god, an idolatrist’s dream.

Worshipped. Adored in boundless awe.

All eyes upon him, devoured by lustful gazes,

but the hunger fades, replaced with disbelief.

His blond hair of youth turned to grey.

A cheeky wink now wrinkled.  

Body marching south as if to Rhodes

not travelled, a lifetime’s journey interrupted.

What is beauty but a distorted mirror?

Young or old: a reflection of the unreal.

Never more than a passing image,

the wonders of last week’s news cast aside.

The crone smiles at him, a knowing smirk.

Offers eye of newt to smooth crow’s feet.

Toxin-laden lotion to unfurl a worried brow

or tincture of boar’s tusk to peel away the years.

When the potions fail to work, cut out the old.

Flying knives, sharp as ravens’ beaks.

Changes no longer just skin-deep emerge

reveals Narcissus, who revels at centre stage.

Christmas fun with the team #2

Here’s another selection of entertaining answers to the questions I set the team. I must say cats seem to be popular in this instalment! Have fun reading them, check out the ‘Meet the Team’ tab above for links to everyone’s websites and/or books, and have a great time over the next few days celebrating your favourite winter festival.

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Pic credit: Moondance on Pixabay.com

What’s the one thing you’d take to a desert island?

Rebecca Cohen: a magic lamp with ready-to-rub genie in situ

Alexa Milne: Always a tricky one as it depends on the island. It says desert not deserted so I’m going with there being people there and civilisation. In this case, I’d take my laptop. I know it’s a bit sneaky.

K.L. Noone: Definitely some sort of laptop with portable self-sufficient wifi – practicality, for rescue, and also a way to read and write while waiting!

Chris Quinton: Factor 50+ sun block – I burn too easily

What’s your favourite (or least favourite) Christmas song?

Rebecca Cohen: Stille Nacht – the German version of Silent Night is a favourite thanks to 7 years in Switzerland

Alexa Milne: Favourite though it makes me cry is Christmas List. I can’t stand O Holy Night.

K.L. Noone: As a punk rock and pop-punk kid, most of my favorite Christmas songs fall into that category! Songs like the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Christmastime,” or the My Chemical Romance cover of “All I Want for Christmas,” or Green Day’s “Xmas Time of Year”…or even the Rise Against cover of “Making Christmas,” from the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack! There’s a good Rock Christmas playlist on Spotify, which we had on while putting up our tree…

Chris Quinton: I’m something of a Scrooge – I dislike them, and cheesy Christmas movies.

If you could shape-shift, what creature would you change into?

Rebecca Cohen: A cat – they have the life of Riley in my house and I want in on their sweet deal.

Alexa Milne: I’d love to be a cat as long as I could be a completely spoiled and pampered cat getting to choose what I eat, when I sleep, when I go out. Oh the mischief I could make and be forgiven every time and loved. I could even have my own social media!

K.L. Noone: Some sort of large happy house cat, like a big fluffy Maine Coon: indoor, cozy, well fed, lots of toys, and soft blankets! Aside from that, it would be fun to be able to fly, so perhaps a raven, or something along those lines – not too frightening, but clever!

Chris Quinton: Now, that’s an easy one! An otter, every time!

Rebecca Cohen: Saving Crofton Hall epilogue

For this week’s fictional offering, how about a cute little flash-fic epilogue to Rebecca Cohen’s feelgood romance Saving Crofton Hall, which features an earl trying to save his ancestral home after his mother gets into massive gambling debt. You can find the original, and details of all Rebecca’s other books including her latest release, on her website here. In the meantime, it’s over to Ben and Ash… 😉

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From the window of his office, Ben watched Mandy, from the events team, show a prospective couple one of the areas of the grounds that had become a popular backdrop for wedding photographs. A knock quickly followed by the soft snick of the door handle made him turn to see Ashley enter.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you had a meeting with a new wine merchant.”

“That’s tomorrow. I told you this morning before we got up.”

Ben crossed the room and stole a kiss. “How am I supposed to concentrate on what I’m being told when I’ve a naked Ashley Niven by my side?”

“Your excuses are getting worse, Ben. Like the time you said you didn’t remember you had to meet the mayor because I’d given you a blow job and sucked your brains out through your cock.”

“I maintain that was a perfectly valid excuse.”

“You would.” Ashley snorted.  “Anyway, I’m not here to distract you with memories of bedroom antics.”

“That was a desk antic,” interrupted Ben with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Ben!”

“I would apologise, but it would be empty and meaningless.”

Ashley ignored him. “Did you see Sir Gruesolot was back his rightful place?”

“Yes, marvellous, isn’t it? I spoke to the restorer this morning when he dropped him off. I daresay that suit of armour hasn’t looked that good since it was made.”

“I was amazed he was able to get the dent out of the visor.”

“I don’t know who your father found him with, and I don’t want to,” Ben added quickly, the less he knew about the shady dealings of Ashley’s father the better. “But they made a right mess of Sir Gruesolot.”

“I don’t know who had him, but Dad said something about him being using for batting practice.”

Ben tutted. “Some people have no sense of history.”

“Well, no one can accuse you of that.”

Ben pulled Ashley close. “Fancy sneaking away to make some more special memories for our own personal history?”

“I’m sure there must be one or two rooms we’ve not … explored in our unique manner.” Ben grinned and headed for the door leading a willing Ashley. He was pretty sure the fourth guest room was in desperate need of exploration.