Nexus – Mid-Week Flash Challenge

“Do you think it was ever real?” Jeff shifted his face towards me.

sculpture by Hasan Novorozi

“What was?” I replied absently, staring into the distance.

“The horse, the Pegasus?” He lifted off his elbows, rolling onto his side. “That one?”

My eyes refocused, taking in the golden bronze sculpture not far from our blanket.

The lowering evening light glinted like magic and I could almost imagine the creature lifting into the sky, its precision pistons and hydraulics whirring smooth and silent. It would soar on glorious wings, skimming clouds and the far off mountain tops. Then Jeff nudged me.

“Wow, you’re just lost today!” He sniggered.

I tore my eyes away from the monument. I flushed under his gaze. His ice-blue eyes softened and the corners of his mouth curled into a grin. My hair slipped across my face and he stretched out his hand to lift it away. His hand brushed my cheek and my heart quickened.

Embarrassed, or shy – I couldn’t decide which – I broke eye contact and dipped my head, hiding a heady smile. I heard Jeff move closer to me. His arms wrapped themselves about me and I let my body mould itself against his.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Tansy,” he whispered, his words moving like velvet across my skin and into my ear.

I smiled and his mouth met mine. For a moment I froze, wondering if my inexperience would register with him, but I had nothing to worry about and melted into the kiss, my lips moving gently against his. It wasn’t just our mouths that responded and I let my hands rove, my fingers ending up entwined in his hair and stroking the nape of his neck.

Soft kisses rained down, and his lips explored my shoulder. My back lightly arched and my head dropped to the side as his touch sent tiny fizzing explosions through my body. I opened my eyes and the late sun bathed me in golden rays, and I caught a glimpse of the gleaming Pegasus in the corner of my eye. Its cogs and gears and wheels shone, and the light flowed through its mane and tail, and I almost believed it alive.

Jeff’s mouth sought mine again and then he reluctantly moved aside grinning at me as we untangled. I giggled and he laughed. “You do things to me!” He threw himself down onto his back and stared up into the sky.

I shuffled closer and looked at him, his face rosy with desire, untidy hair, and creased shirt. I smoothed my hand across his chest, slipping it between an unbuttoned gap to caress his skin. He closed his eyes and groaned.

I laughed and sat up, tucking my legs beneath me. Jeff rolled over and leaned against me, propping himself back up on his elbows again. The horse glowed in front of us as the sun disappeared behind the mountain. It became a shadowy figure as pale moonlight took over from the sun, ghostly even.

“So,” he broke the silence. “Do you think it was real?”

I didn’t answer.

“I mean, years ago, centuries ago, before they were banned?” When I still didn’t speak, he continued. “Not just horses, but people, you know – the mechanical ones. They got really advanced, then when they thought we’d not be able to tell the difference, they banned them. Do you believe that? I never saw one I couldn’t tell was robotic.” His voice trailed off as he stared at the sculpture. “If they were real, they sure were beautiful.”

My skin prickled, goosebumps spread across my arms, and my scalp tingled.

“I’d know if I met one. Not that I could, they don’t exist anymore.” He turned to smile at me. “That one, the Pegasus, it enchants me. That’s why I like coming here, and with you –” His fingers trailed across my bare arm. “With you, it’s even better.”

I linked my fingers with his. His hand was warm, sweaty, and real. He gazed into my eyes with such intensity, such adoration, that I knew his naivety was genuine.

I leaned down and touched my lips to his. He pulled me into his embrace and his hand moved slowly down my neck, across my collarbone, and down to the soft cotton décolletage of my dress. Not far beneath the cotton, beneath my silky organic skin, beneath the network of miniscule tubes and hydraulics, beneath the silent whir of cogs and gears, beat my heart, my clockwork heart.

Really needed to write something for this photo provided by Miranda’s Mid-Week Flash Challenge prompt. A sculpture by Hasan Novorozi. The steampunk Pegasus just spoke to me, as do most things steampunk!

Write up to 750 words inspired by the prompt photograph.

The Key of Life – Mid-Week Flash Challenge

Time was running out and she knew it.

Alys let her eyelids drop and rested her head on the soft feather pillow. A tear trickled down from the corner of her eye, slowly running down the creases of her skin and into her ear. She smiled wryly at the warm sensation. She relished every sensation her aging body still had, even tears.

Sunlight spilled through semi-closed curtains, muted by the veils of voile that hung from the rail. Dust motes danced in the summer breeze drifting through the high open window.

The sound of birdsong took her back to days gone by, of days when the sun shone, days when she flirted, and teased, and lived ‘til twilight fell and stars glittered in the sky.

Even the subdued rays teasing her window reminded of nights beneath moonlight, nights of passion, nights of love, and nights embraced in warm arms.

Those days, and nights, were long gone, and so were the people who’d inhabited them with her.

Now, she reclined in solitude upon crisp white sheets, soft pillows, and surrounded by the fragrance of orange blossom from the vase upon her night stand. No one visited any longer except nurses, who were dutiful, and friendly, and engaging, but none were family, none mattered beyond the essentials.

Time was waning and Alys was fine with that.

She listened to the whispering breeze curling around the mock orange outside, lifting the scent to join the foliage in her room. Beneath her dry, closed eyelids her eyes itched, and her nose whistled as she breathed. A limp curl of snow-white hair fell across her brow and tickled her furrowed forehead. Her throat rattled, and despite the nurses’ regular attention, her parched mouth gasped.

Alys placed a frail hand on her chest, gently stroking the lace beneath her fingers, then letting her palm rest still. Her heartbeat pulsed, slowly, steadily – like the rhythm of an evening cricket’s chirrup. She knew the time had come.

She pulled lightly at the ribbons holding her nightgown closed, and they slid away from the bow the night nurse had made. Alys drew her nightgown open and exposed her chest. Pale, papery skin threaded with lilac, purple, and blue veins sat across bones that protruded beneath their fragile shroud. Alys reached down towards her heart, feeling gently along her delicate, cool flesh, until her fingers stopped at warm metal.

A weary smile curved her lips, and her fingers smoothed over the bronze metal plate that sat over her heart. She lifted a thin tab and withdrew a small key. The key was intricate, ornate, and truly beautiful, and she held it between her fingers with true reverence and gratitude.

Not everyone had a key, but due to heart failure decades ago, when young children still sat on her lap, she’d been fitted with a bio-mechanical heart. Coronary lockets they called them, with a narrow door and an interior mechanism that worked with biology and clockwork movement.

Alys held her key and brought it to her lips. With unsteady arms she lifted her hands to her head, and carefully slotted the key into the bundle of curls upon the crown of her head. She liked shiny things – and hairpins, decorations, and ornaments adorned the nest of tousled hair caught up in her bun. The nurses would search for the key – but it was hers and there wasn’t another like it – and eventually they’d find it, but time…

She’d outlived everyone she cared about, and now was her time. She placed her hands back upon her chest, closed her eyes, and listened to the birdsong at her window. Orange blossom filled her senses, and her mouth lolled slightly open. Her chest rose and fell, and her heartbeat began to slow. Alys felt the sun roll across her and as its warmth finally dissipated, her heart whirred, and jarred, and stopped.

Alys was finally where she wanted to be.

Loving the photo prompt for Miranda’s Mid-Week Flash Challenge over at Finding Clarity.

Write up to 750 words inspired by the prompt photograph.

 

Paroxysm – Steampunk, Passion and Pirates

Pistons, passion, pirates and petulant dragons!
Steampunk Pirates – what more do you need?

Spring is upon us and signs of passion and renewal everywhere – so I thought I’d share a snippet of my steampunk tale, Paroxysm, found within Cutthroats and Curses the Pirate Anthology from The Anthology Club.

Captain Jericha Blacklocke’s bid to survive both catch twenty-two and a vengeful dragon to save her crew aboard The Paroxysm. A story thick with emotion and tension, corsets and longing, goggles and jewels, and a desire to survive and atone…

This story and many others will have you hooked – see what I did there?

Cutthroats and Curses

My favourite tale is: Roaring Dan Seavey Proves He Ain’t The Man Some Folk Think Him To Be by Beth Avery, which blew me away!  You’ll have to let me know your favourite, because you’ll definitely have one!

Enjoy the eclectic mix of writing from some amazing authors: Michael Wombat, Lisa Shambrook, Boyd Miles, Marissa Ames, Bryan Taylor, Beth Avery, Matt Jameson, Eric Martell, Michael Walker, Stephen Coltrane, and Alex Brightsmith, there’s something for everyone.

Reel in this intriguing eBook at Amazon UK, Amazon US, Amazon Canada or any other Amazon near you!

If you read the book and love it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

Cutthroats and Curses…ahoy there!

Ahoy there shipmates! If you’re looking for a swashbuckling, piratical tale…you need look no further…for ‘Cutthroats and Curses – An Anthology of Pirates’ is now out!

Cover art by Kit Cooper. Her art is also available to buy!

Featuring eleven great writers: Michael Wombat, Lisa Shambrook (yes, that’s me!), Boyd Miles, Marissa Ames, Bryan Taylor, Beth Avery, Matt Jameson, Eric Martell, Michael Walker, Stephen Coltrane, and Alex Brightsmith, there will be something for everyone!

My tale is: Paroxysm

A Steampunk tale of Captain Jericha Blacklocke’s bid to survive both catch twenty-two and a vengeful dragon to save her crew aboard The Paroxysm. A story thick with emotion and tension, corsets and longing, goggles and jewels, and a desire to survive and atone…

Pick up this intriguing eBook at Amazon UK, Amazon US, Amazon Canada or any other Amazon near you!  

Go on, me hearty, put it on your Kindle, or phone, or Ipad – something to read in the sun, or the rain this Summer, depending on where you live!

And, before you landlubbers leave, check out The Anthology Club‘s excellent debut release ‘Soul of the Universe’ with reviews such as:

‘This collection was absolutely breathtaking, and has introduced me to some new genres I wasn’t overly familiar with, and showed the extraordinary range of writing styles that all bring their own meaning to a story.’ – Sorcha

and: ‘Soul of the Universe is a collection of stunning short stories that can leave you smiling, crying or just in a state of wonder.’ – BekahCat

 

Dirty Goggles: His Little Bumblebee

This is for the Dirty Goggles Bloghop 2014 put together by Jenn, Ruth and Steven…I’m jumping straight in with my steampunk story and my little steampunk bumblebee!

Title: His Little Bumblebee
Word Count: 797 Words
Name: Lisa Shambrook @LastKrystallos
Category: Steampunk

His Little Bumblebee © Lisa Shambrook (All Rights Reserved)

His Little Bumblebee

Professor Mordecai called Ottavia his little bumblebee because her heart hummed. I think he loved her more because her flaw made her real. I love her because her heart sings.

My heart runs as smooth as clockwork, because that’s just what it is, ticking quietly, flawlessly. Every brass nut and bolt, every piston and gear move in perfect unison. Her flaws led to my perfection.

***

Ottavia stared down at our creator’s limp body, her fingers clasping his hand, and my heart fluttered like the professor’s glass-winged dragonflies darting about the gloomy study. Her shoulders slumped and I recalled his last words as I hurried to her side.

“His heart gave out!” I hissed, “I have to get you away before the Regent claims you!”

She ignored me, burying her face in his dusty and worn brocade robes. I had no intention of ever letting the Regent anywhere near enough to listen to the hum of her heart, or even to touch the wiry golden curls that fell around her face. “We have to leave!”

Her hand leaped to her breast and her eyes glistened in the gas-light. “I can’t, not without my key!”

She lifted the ribbon that hung around her neck and its frayed empty ends whispered in the breeze.

A terrible sound echoed down the vast university corridors as the gas-lamps flickered. My heart pounded as I listened to the clickety-clack of a thousand wings. “There’s no time!” I muttered, grabbing her arm.

“I need my key!” she protested, digging into the professor’s pockets.

A horde of mechanical mosquitoes struck the ancient oak door like metal woodpeckers. I peered through the keyhole as wood splintered. “I need to get you to Professor Greenfire, before they destroy the door!” I desperately combed the room as Ottavia scurried about searching for her key. I yanked open the lid of an intricately decorated box revealing a pulsating mass of gold and steel bumblebees. Wings whirred into action as I released them. The tiny bees swarmed through the keyhole and sped into the fray of long legs and tin wings. Sparks flew and metal clattered.

“I’m not even going to make it out of here…” She dropped to the floor with a clatter.

I watched the curve of her breast rise and fall as she stared up at me. I could hear it, the heavy thump, the easing of pistons, the wisps of steam curling from her ribcage beneath her bodice, her mechanism slowing, running down. “I need my key!”

Acrid smoke spiralled through the keyhole as the clangs and clashes of metal echoed. “And there’s no way out up here anyway!” she cried, staring up at me through sparkling topaz eyes.

I whipped her cloak away from her shoulders. “There’s always a way,” I murmured, brushing my fingers over the delicate wire-framed wings protruding from her shoulder joints. I flung open the window. “I sent dragonflies ahead and Greenfire will meet you down by the forest.”

Her brass curls bounced as she shook her head. Her breaths shuddered and jerked as her cogs and gears slowed down.

I tore my key from the string around my neck and thrust it at her.

“It won’t fit!” she smiled. “And even if it did, you can’t live without it.” Her limbs shuddered and her eyes dulled, and desperation echoed inside my clockwork heart.

Our keys didn’t match, but sometimes, as Professor Mordecai once told me, magic happens when love exists. As her breaths faltered and her frame jerked, I untied her corset ribbons and reached up beneath her stays. Her ribs juddered and her heart stopped singing.

My shaking fingers located the keyhole beneath her breast-work but my key wouldn’t fit. I jiggled it delicately, and as my heart began to fail, it slotted right in! I wound it, listening to the barrel click, and watched a pale light fill her eyes once more.

I tied my key to her ribbon.

Her fingers trembled and jolted as they curled around mine and her cut glass eyes shimmered with tears that could not fall.

“Now go…” I listened to the whirring buzz of mechanised insects outside the disintegrating door.

She touched a lever at her waist. Her wings vibrated and her heart sang as she stood upon the windowsill. Morning rays glimmered against her fragmented glass wings, and they fluttered gently as tiny pistons pounded, flywheels spun and gears shifted. Ottavia dived from the window and I leaned across the frame.

She plummeted and my heart slipped into my mouth, and then she swooped and her wings bore her away, away to safety. I smiled as she disappeared behind cotton-wool clouds and automated bugs broke through the door. I still had enough fight left, enough to save my precious bumblebee.

© Lisa Shambrook (All Rights Reserved)