So Glitter Girl got a bit of a redesign the other day, with some tweaking on the cover, new front matter and one key detail in the story. But the core of the piece, born out of a visit I once paid to Beverly Hills High School when I was teaching in LA, remains the same. Glitter Girl is all those pretty blondes with fathers in the film and music industries.
The story is told from the viewpoint of someone else, though. The Witchman narrates, and one reader said he didn’t learn enough about the character from his “voice.” Another asked if the Witchman will ever get to star in another story, so that readers could know more about him.
I’ve been thinking that it might be interesting to follow these characters out of this story into the bigger world of the Moon Road. The Glitter Girl herself has quite a journey ahead as she learns what the spell to turn the heart of some rich empty headed hunk will really cost her. The Witchman called it right – it isn’t love she wants, it’s power. Will she really rip the heart out of the hunk and walk away? She’s a card carrying member of the Mean Girls club, so that’s probably what happens. But I would like to see her come to terms with the magic she has unwittingly taken into herself.
And the Witchman, that battered war veteran hunkering down in the desert where he can be alone with his memories and his magic, seems to me to have a world of stories to tell. So in the parlance of TV shows, I’m making him a regular. He now has a name: Adam Voss. He also has a backstory of service in the Gulf War, a wound and a meager pension – and witchcraft of the darkest kind. His narrative crosses a little with that of his fellow wounded warrior in the short story “Cold Wind.”
Adam will appear in the upcoming Soledad City novel, “A Patch of Cool” when musician on the run Lucas Horne takes a terrifying ride through the desert and a disastrous detour at the truck stop/cafe where Adam lives out back.
Adam also has a bit of history with Velocity, the owner of Cafe Colibri in downtown Soledad City – and a magic creature in her own right. More on Velocity in upcoming character sketches.
Any thoughts, ideas, storylines you’d like to see? Drop a comment here or share a thought on Twitter.
That humpbacked beast called sin waits just at the edge of sight.
If you turn your back he’s on you
Just like that green slime thing we saw that time on the midnight movie.
You got to pray and pray and pray some more.
Pray for the armor and the sword! Pray for the strength to prevail!
Well I think I saw that old beast out back in Mama’s garden just last evening.
Under the shadows by the willow tree come twilight
I squeezed my eyes up sideways and I saw him, dressed up just like Sunday in Preacher’s tail coat.
Even had a Bible flapping in the wind.
Wrapping arms around Mama
Till Pappy come round the bend in the old post road.
When Lucy’s ready
… she’s ready.
None of this slow stepping sweets and roses
Cat dance of attraction:
Forward two back one
While music winds through a still room
And candle flames tremble on wine glasses.
Lucy wants it all:
Hot breath and steamrollers
On the floor where the carpet’s bleached pink
From scrubbing up stains.
Whine of ripped silk
Lips burning lips like arrows in the fire
Straight to the heart of it
And windows wide to let the neon in.
When Lucy’s ready
. . . she’s ready for love.
“Two Magicians,” my flash fiction story from the Sorrows Hill series, is now out in the December issue of the online fantasy/horror mag New Myths. This little story introduces readers to Daniel MacKenzie, the sorcerer born of a Highlands lady and a kelpie from the deep waters of the loch. I’ll be developing Daniel’s story more in these pages in the coming months.
It’s a story born of many influences, musical and legendary as most of my fantasy tales are. For anyone interested in learning more about the core inspiration, listen to Jethro Tull’s lovely song, “Kelpie.”
Read Two Magicians on New Myths here. If you like it, let me know.
Here’s a little flash fiction/prose poem that introduces Mama Silva, Soledad City’s most fearsome witch and staunchest protector.
AT MAMA SILVA’S
At the tail end of the night
Concrete gets too gritty on your back
And fog blinds the alleys south of Spring Street.
So you creak to your feet
Wrap your greasy blanket round your shoulders
And you slump off to Mama Silva’s.
Catty corner from the mission
Next to the barred up liquor store
She’s open all the time.
Crackheads and knife fights and
Sirens in the the night —
Mama Silva just goes on.
Light from her window full of flowers
Washes down the puddles on the street.
Blue beads clatter at her doorways
And you shiver when you walk on through
Because you’ve been this way before.
Anyhow you shrug off that blanket
Just like a snake shedding skin and you
Step into her forest:
Herbs and incense and heads on the wall
Hanging ferns and the black Virgin
On her table full of candles and the little silver bowl.
You slide into warmth and coffee
And her voice like honey on a not morning.
Scents of cinnamon and juniper
Rustle of wings and whispers in her corners
Sing you off to sleep again. So
When Mama Silva takes her price
You never feel the pain.