@teresaesargeant Eve the First: A Fairy Tale Revision by Teresa Edmond-Sargeant

Eve the First:

A Fairy Tale Revision

by Teresa Edmond-Sargeant

Genre: Fantasy, Fairy Tale Retelling

A retelling of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale "The Wicked Prince," "Eve the First" introduces a princess unlike any other in popular fairy tales: ruthless, power-hungry and ambitious enough to conquer Heaven. After successfully monopolizing the known world, Eve lays her eyes on taking down God so she can reign supreme over Heaven and Earth.

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She was called Eve the First.

And once upon a time, that name, and its infamy, petrified the hearts and minds of anyone familiar with her conquests, capabilities, and cunning tenacity fueled by her volatility.

Eve’s innocent beauty belied her passion to conquer the world. Her doe-like eyes concealed the twinkle that reflected her megalomaniacal thirst for power. With her youthfully plump, pink lips, Eve barked demands at her subjects and soldiers, threatening to execute them if they failed to carry out her commands. She wore her lustrous locks in braids and pinned up into exquisite loops with hair ornaments crafted from the bones of her enemies and decorated with precious jewels like pearls, diamonds, and sapphires.

In Eve’s kingdom of Regnum, the populace sought for worldly knowledge, wealth, and prestige. Above all, the people pursued the supreme form of existence: immortality. To these ends, they excelled in architecture, arts, music, literature, alchemy and science. With the practices of Pagan worship, drunken orgies, and human sacrificing, they prided themselves on being their absolute best in knowledge and wealth, while their crude and barbaric natures situated them at the bottom of human existence.

Eve ruled the land of Regnum with the utmost passion of all kinds: love, fear, cruelty, and intensity, but mostly the last three. Every day she studied maps of foreign kingdoms, plotted her next conquest, and trained her soldiers until their feet bled and their sanity broke. Wherever she went, her subjects genuflected and lowered their heads, averting eye contact. If Eve caught anyone sneaking furtive glances at her, she screamed the dreaded words, “Away with him and off with his head!”

The next time that person was seen, his headless body was at the bottom of a ravine near Eve’s castle.

As she brandished her sword and ambition, Eve led her army all over the world, from the nearest to the most remote lands. She left behind trails of bloodshed, death, and tears. With every swing of her sword—a stab here, a beheading there—Eve radiated joy as blood splattered all over her armor and corpses piled up. Villagers said their bountiful fields, once ripe with harvest, were cultivated with the blood of the dead. Whole carcasses and body parts littered the meadows, turning them into rolling graveyards, as though the dead had been dug up.

“I have unyielding determination that cannot be matched,” Eve once said. “If that makes me an evil woman, so be it.”

Once Eve conquered a village, she marched into its public square and staked her coat of arms into the soil. Her soldiers kept the crowd back while the crowd admired Eve’s glorious beauty sullied with dirt and blood. Clutching the flagpole, Eve placed her right hand over her heart.

“Today’s victory is in memory of my dear mother, the late Queen Catherine the Third,” Eve said to her new subjects. “She would have been proud to know that I will bestow upon all of you a new day, a new life, and a new era. I acknowledge that from this day forward, this is the age we start to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, and heal the sick. I have ushered in a Golden Era of Peace where the sun will always rise in the east, trees shall forever bear fruit, and harvest season shall forever be abundant. This is the time when we unite as one to remake this land so it will transcend our utmost expectations and ideal selves.”

Eve then signaled her soldiers to present her newly conquered subjects with baskets of bread and meat and vessels of cider.

“Today, what I have done was quite a sacrifice, but it was all done for you my beloved people,” Eve continued. “I will give you whatever you yearn for—food, shelter, clothes—and promise to alleviate you of the agonies you long suffered at the hands of your demon of a king. That will happen if — and only if — you crown me your ruler and allow me to erect my statues everywhere in your village.”

Then her soldiers demanded that the peasants form lines in front of them. Cries of “Long live Eve” rang throughout the land as soldiers passed out equal rations of food and drink to the peasants.

Teresa Edmond-Sargeant is an Orlando, FL-based poet, author and journalist originally from northern New Jersey. Her poetry has appeared in anthologies featuring NJ poets. During her time as a reporter in Jersey, she won two NJ Press Association awards.

In 2006, she published her debut poetry book, "How Fate's Confusion Connects"; the book's second edition will be released later in 2014. She is the author of three (so far;-)) Amazon Kindle ebooks: "Eve the First," "An Estella Exclusive" and "Ethical Strains," all short stories.

Edmond-Sargeant is a member of the Florida State Poets Association. She is now a staff writer for The Apopka Chief, a newspaper that covers the Apopka, FL, area (http://www.theapopkachief.com).

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Joanna Paterson A Selection of Short Stories and Poetry Collections –

GUEST POST

My two books of short stories, “The Old Turk and Other Tales” and “Through the Mirror”, examine that tricky balance between experience and the spiritual world that anyone—and the author—would encounter or like to encounter. There are realms which take us beyond ourselves—and I like to explore them. Short stories should stimulate thinking—they are always potentially true. So many of them lose themselves in the usual earthbound stories about romance and the twists and turns of people in love, but I tried to go beyond those confines to involve spiritual worlds. The short stories I wrote are phantastic in the sense that they treat the unseen as a vital encounter, but engage with it, also, if you think of it that way,  as a possible extension of the Self.

The stories don’t tell you what to do. They are meetings with vibrant beings, ways of seeing. Some are fun, like the story about hats in the Old Turk collection. I also call to mind the ancient goddesses and what they represent—this in Through the Mirror. You can visualise  this as about memory and about the sea and the land. I have been to these places myself—but they are transformed and show themselves in a new way.

I explore Europe and ancient places in Ohio, U.S.A., and what they represent, the unusual, the dialogue with them that can create connections, letting go the mundane, the things you are used to. I hope there is pleasure in these extensions of the mind’s adventures.

What I liked most are the stories of transformation in “Through the Mirror”. The metamorphosis does not have to be into human lives, but can be a bird such as in “Jenny Wren”. Or it can have a message as in “The Owls of Scarba”. And then there are some places that simply evoke the moon and thinking in different ways of where you are, such as in an eighteenth century tower in Dessau, Germany,  or in a long forgotten village in Austria.

“The Shaman Birches of Argyll” and “The Travelling Moon”, my poetry books, on the other hand, are grounded in experience and often on watching the sea while sailing on the West Coast of Scotland. They are an exploration of nature and lochs and birds, indigenous or otherwise, especially the seabirds that visit. These show closeness with nature that can only be vitally expressed in poetry. I think about the natural world and try to find it again in words. I was born in the land-locked—except for the cross European river Danube—city of Vienna. So this is an encounter with a different and exciting world.

My books of poetry probe the new countryside in the Highlands where water is everywhere—the mysterious sea, the lochs and the burns. The rising moon, the trees and ferns that grow wild on hillsides are also featured. The essence of the poetry is both myth and place. Nature has different dimensions and I want to bring them close to the reader. Poetry gives feelings and vision in versions that other genres cannot.

I do not believe that even adult books should be without images. So I have given all my books illustrations. I hope you like the way words and pictures go together!

My books are all available from Amazon as Kindle or print-on-demand editions under the name Joanna Paterson.

Joanna Paterson, aka Joanna Geyer-Kordesch (professor emerita)

Through the Mirror

It is wise to hang a mirror in the darkest corner of the darkest room. It will catch the light where it shines least. It will suck in the remaining light like a waterfall. The light tumbles down into the deep, dark space, the dark side of the mirror. Like the dark side of the moon, the most beautiful light gathers and meets there.
Put the book down on your lap as you sit in the room with the mirror and look up. The room is painted in oxblood which means it has a mauve sheen. The deep colour brings out the pictures. They lift from the walls. They circle the room in measured leisureliness. They know they are the artworks that last; but the mirror enthrals them because it has stories in it.
The white hand-made paper in one frame shows the big rust-coloured fishing vessel that lists towards the stonebuilt quay. The coal steamer is tired-looking. The wood creaks; it has not been caulked or cleaned. It was painted a loving bright red once with a blue arrow decorating its prow. The blue has washed out. The red of its funnel is rusted. The fine black paint of its pilot house is slashed in peeling greys.
The fish that were once hunted have come to eat its powerful remains. The phantom herrings in shoals that once graced the waters of Scotland now nibble the floating devil that destroyed their silver lives. What was once quick as a flash, made of thousands of squalls of rain and intermittent sunlight, is now but the sighting of ghostly companion fish. In the mirror the hand-made print captures the fishing boat that tells the stories of the turbulent sea.

The Shaman Birches of Argyll

A book of poetry.

I was startled the first time I took a train out of Glasgow into the Highlands. This was in 1990 when I took up a post at the University. The images of that journey follow me yet. What to me was a toy train without, to my ear, the clickety-clack and rumble of heavy axles and big station clocks with station master’s whistles, showed me wild beauty beyond its windows. I saw scooped valleys rising like angel’s wings. I saw new colours, earth shades that blended sparseness together, browns tough as deer hides and mercurial greys in cliffs and tumbled rocks. Rivers churned over pebbles lustred with light, and pointed first ridged hillsides in deep green. The day was a lucky one, with me not knowing how often it rains: the sun was out, the skies were blue.
Immediately I was in love with the Highlands landscape. I fell in love with ruggedness. Opposites attract. I grew up a child of the city. I was born in Vienna. My journeys had been on transalpine trains through Switzerland or across the Dolomites into Italy. I had been shocked at the cool, urban spread of Glasgow with its lack of curlicues. In my experience cities were highly ornamented. In Vienna the family went to church up elaborate steps into interiors dominated by the marbled grace of Corinthian columns and ornate side-altars. Baroque splendor allowed cherubim and seraphim to glow golden in the inner sanctum. The familiar company of saints stared down, recognisable through their emblems. St. Catherine held her wheel; Peter his keys; and Sebastian, riddled with arrows, interceded for us as martyr and patron saint to the city. Nor did the pagan gods loose their footing. On every errand through the inner city, looking up at the sky, I saw on the roofline of the palaces the sculptures of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, and the god of the arts, Apollo, and Hermes, the god of the crossroads.

The Travelling Moon

This book aims at your imagination. All the Selves of what you might be, are envisioned in that moment when the moon is afloatin the sky. When Reason does not rein in the Self, you are left to dream, to connect to the night-side of nature. Then the landscape that surrounds becomes a gateway to what might be.

But first, let the women who were unconventional bring their case forward. The first section, Stories, begins with poems about them. One was an astronomer of the 18th century, Marie Henriette von Sachsen Meiningen, and lived in one of the first ‘English’ landscape gardens in the German principalities. She built her own observatory and went there to bring stars closer into view—her very own science.

The writer Bettina von Arnim, the next woman I mention, was an eccentric but truthful and intriguing woman of the turn of the 18thto the 19th centuries. She was the granddaughter of Sophie von La Roche, one of the first women novelists and a friend of Christian Martin Wieland. Her great granddaughter was Gisela von Arnim, a friend of the Grimm Brothers. Gisela later married Wilhelm Grimm. Bettina, her mother, married Achim von Arnim and this turned out to be an adventure for both of them.

All this inspired my poetry.

The Old Turk and Other Tales

 Old stones are forever whispering.

To walk up an old lane is to hear voices.  It is the mighty dead that unlock our hearing.  The narrow lane leads upwards.  Overhead the houses nod to one another.  They are ornate; the window frames seem tied with ribbons in shades of cream and optimism.

Men and women bow their heads here to presences both mightier and more forgiving than worldly ambition.  Sorrow looks back; faith looks up.  When Death comes the priest is called and last prayers are said.

I had come back on a visit on the spur of the moment.  Whenever I came back I was within earshot of childhood.  This was the prescient childhood of belief.  As a child you know you are but a dot in a vast cosmos.  Cathedrals are in your blood.

I was happy to take out the frilly ribbons of fantastical thought.  In the North I had gotten used to sparseness as a way of life.  Think before you speak; otherwise excess will seek you out like the devil’s palaver.  A penny earned is a penny saved and suchlike.  I was sympathetic to this as I was born with frugal habits.  Also I was a scholar.  In the old days of libraries I spent even sun-drenched days in the dusky corners where a wooden desk let me read and write.

I had forgotten the joys of opulence.  I had put aside soaring emotion.  Only deep within did music still speak in crescendo and allegro.  Music unheeded by blood or bone runs unseen, there on the far mountain where the moon rises.

A Fatal Twist by Tracy Weber Book Blitz and Giveaway!

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Tracy Weber is the author of the award-winning Downward Dog Mysteries series featuring yoga teacher Kate Davidson and her feisty German shepherd, Bella. Her first book, Murder Strikes a Pose won the Maxwell Award for Fiction and was 2015 Agatha award nominee for Best First Novel. The third book in her series, Karma's a Killer, will released January, 2016 by Midnight Ink.

Tracy and her husband live in Seattle with their challenging yet amazing German shepherd Tasha. When she’s not writing, Tracy spends her time teaching yoga, walking Tasha, and sipping Blackthorn cider at her favorite ale house. 

Sign up for her monthly newsletter including mystery recommendations, yoga tips, and series news at http://tracyweberauthor.com/newsletter

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Do bad things really happen in threes? For yoga instructor Kate Davidson, it seems they do—and it also seems that no good deed goes unpunished.  Kate’s life takes a chaotic turn when she agrees to be the doula for her pregnant best friend—and to play foster mother to two puppies.  As if the terrible two puppies aren’t destructive (and disruptive) enough, things get exponentially worse when Kate finds the dead body of a philandering fertility doctor and sees Rachel, one of her yoga students, fleeing the scene.
Convinced of Rachel’s innocence, Kate sets out to find the real killer before her testimony condemns Rachel to a life behind bars.  But who else would have wanted the doctor dead?  Kate quickly realizes that there is no shortage of suspects: Could the killer have been Rachel’s troubled teenage daughter?  A jilted ex-mistress?  The doctor’s latest squeeze?  An angry former patient?  A fed-up business partner?  And what’s the story about those lawsuits against the deceased doctor?  Seems this not-so-good doctor had his fair share of enemies.
Finding more questions than answers, Kate launches a race against time to find the truth.  But how much sleuthing can Kate really do when her hands are full with caring for three dogs, teaching yoga classes, and gaining an unexpected crime-solving partner?  If Kate isn’t careful, her next yoga pose may be a fatal one.

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 Snippet:

“Come on Bella, let’s hike up to the top.”

I followed the uphill pathway, enjoying the sun on my shoulders and the cool evening breeze on my cheeks. Bella tugged at the end of her leash, playfully teasing the geese into flight.

A large, surprisingly grumpy-looking goose stood in our path, away from his gaggle. Bella glared at him, giving a clear, silent message:

Move.

The goose ignored her.

Bella added a single, loud bark and a half-hearted lunge.

I said, move.

The goose lifted his wings and replied with a fierce-sounding hiss.

I wrapped Bella’s leash tightly around my wrist. “Bella, leave it.” I punctuated the command by stepping off the path. Bella planted her paws, assumed the stance of a hundred-pound statue, and growled.

The feathered menace—who apparently had a death wish—glared at Bella, flapped his wings, and marched toward her, hissing.

Bella erupted.

She lunged, she jumped, she snarled, she growled. Cujo on meth would have been friendlier. I dug my heels into the earth and held on, mentally translating her vocalizations into English:

I said move! And I mean now! Or I’ll crush your hollow-boned body between my jaws and shake until every one of those ugly black feathers falls out. I’ll—

The goose took the hint. Sort of. He slooooowly waddled away, down the hill, one grumpy step at a time. Bella followed, barking and lunging at his tail feathers.

I desperately waved my free arm, trying to prevent the impending nosedive, but it was no use. Bella and I each weighed a little over a hundred pounds. Since dogs can pull two-and-a-half times their weight, Bella could easily drag two-point-five yoga teachers. The best I could do was hang on for the ride. 

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@las930 @Supergirldoyoga #SMGN 2017 Perfect Pairings Valentine’s Day Gift Guide ABX Yoga Mat Towel Giveaway!

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This giveaway is in no way endorsed, affiliated, or associated with Facebook, Twitter or any other Social Media Networking Site.You are not eligible if you have won a prize from the sponsor in the last 12 month. This Giveaway is valid in the United States Only and Entrants must be 18+ years of age to enter. This giveaway event will end at 11:59 PM (EST) 2/14/17. The winners will have 48 hours to email their information back to las93063 at gmail dot com or a new winner will be drawn, you may want to put this email address as safe as it could go to spam. The sponsors are each responsible for shipping of the above prizes. No blog associated with this contests are responsible for prize fulfillment. If you would like to be a sponsor in a giveaway like this please email Laura Smith at las930 (at)gmail (dot) com. If you take an entry you must stay following for the entire contest or you will be disqualified.

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@las930 @Supergirldoyoga #SMGN 2017 Perfect Pairings Valentine’s Day Gift Guide ABX Workout Blu-Ray Giveaway!

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This giveaway is in no way endorsed, affiliated, or associated with Facebook, Twitter or any other Social Media Networking Site.You are not eligible if you have won a prize from the sponsor in the last 12 month. This Giveaway is valid in the United States Only and Entrants must be 18+ years of age to enter. This giveaway event will end at 11:59 PM (EST) 2/14/17. The winners will have 48 hours to email their information back to las93063 at gmail dot com or a new winner will be drawn, you may want to put this email address as safe as it could go to spam. The sponsors are each responsible for shipping of the above prizes. No blog associated with this contests are responsible for prize fulfillment. If you would like to be a sponsor in a giveaway like this please email Laura Smith at las930 (at)gmail (dot) com. If you take an entry you must stay following for the entire contest or you will be disqualified.

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One Minute There by Max E.Stone Audiobook Tour and Giveaway!

One Minute There:

Warren-Bennett-Johnson/New England, Book 3

Audible – Unabridged

by Max E. Stone

Genre: Thriller, Suspense

Two torturous months came and went. Detective Bennett refuses to give up on finding his daughter. Even as the authorities of New England and beyond, trailing the blood in the girl's wake, devised a ruthless manhunt to bring her back. Well aware of the young woman's fragile state, Bennett is determined to locate her first. He's terrified to learn that he and the officers aren't the only ones looking...

FOR YOUR LIFE...

Tucked in a hideaway past America's borders, courtesy of her only trusted connect as of late, Melissa is sure she's safe. That is until the hammering knocks at her door threaten her world, her sanity...

And her life.

THERE'S ONLY ONE WAY OUT...
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My name is Max E. Stone and my characters tell me what to do. Not the other way around. Sound weird? I don't think so.

I've been writing and studying the subject since the age of nine. I put my life into the New England series and am still working at it. Hardships in my teen years shaped my words as I further delved into the craft and everything it entails. I understand how powerful the pen can be and believe that my job is to speak for as well as entertain the people.

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Leslie Wilder grew up in a small town in West Tennessee. A country girl at heart, she’s always thought that life is too short, but she had no idea how short it really was until her brother passed away in 2014. She’s always been an avid reader, loving the escape only a great book can give, and wondered if she had what it took to write one of the wild romances she’d come to adore. With the support of her family and friends, she published Inferno: A Devil Chaser’s MC, one year after her brother’s death. With him in mind, she fulfilled her lifetime dream of writing. Since then, she’s completed the Devil Chaser’s Series and continued on with the Satan’s Fury MC Series. She has so many stories in her head, and can’t wait to share each and every one.

Leslie has been blown away by the support of her readers, appreciating every message, review, and encouraging word she’s received over the past year. She looks forward to continuing this journey with them for years to come.

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