This will be the location for various serialized stories I am working on, as I have decided to experiment with this style again, due to the success rate that I used to have while writing fanfictions. Please use the tags if you have a particular story that you wish to navigate to, and feel free to bring your friends. I also will occasionally post news here related to my own manuscripts intended for regular publication and their availability.

For reference, the THG StarDragon Publishing Blog, though sometimes it goes long times without updates, is the place to watch for news regarding not only my own books, but those of the authors that have chosen to work with me in getting their own works ready for publication. My personal journal is located at livejournal (same name as here) and will be the place to look for random stuff (though if you want super random, I do admit the "sin" of having a Facebook). Artwork can be viewed on my DeviantArt account, or you can visit the THG StarDragon Publishing website or the Lulu Storefront. Also, some titles are going to be found at my Smashwords page. Don't forget to check Amazon and Barnes and Noble for print and ebook versions. Please note that the author is a full time mother and also takes university courses, so she unfortunately does not get to write or paint all day.

Comments are welcome, as I would like to experiment with how reader questions can help shape stories. Also, if you would like to donate to help fund my time (and help buy coffee to think and do neat things for the kids) I do accept Paypal. Just use the button at the bottom of the post.

You can find the table of contents for my serials below.

( Contents Selkies' Skins )
Selkies' Skins: Castle and Well (book one) manuscript wordcount: Currently 131,693 for chapters 1 through 39, front matter, the glossary, and author bio. It will be followed by a second book covering the second half of Kirsty's testing, and likely a third book or fourth book to deal with other important bits that are not focused on in Kirsty's Skinquesting. There is also an audiobook version currently being recorded, narrated by Illya Leonov. He is also expected to narrate the books of the Dragon Shaman series.
You can also read it on a dedicated site for the stories.

Selkies' Skins 2
( Selkies' Skins 2 )
I need to update the chapter links behind the cut but I also need to save progress before I am interrupted.

The manuscript for Selkies' Skins (book two): Temple and Skinquest is currently sitting at 86,464 words in the full file as of August 15, 2021 and is in progress.

The manuscript for Dragon Shaman (book three): The Forge and the Well is in progress at roughly 20,000 words

( Contents Shen's Tale )

~~~~*~~~~
Why is the Kirsty Picture gone? Who stole the selkie? David, are you hoarding her with the fish tin again? Ok, I'll do the button this way... Kirsty, that is MY can of smoked oysters...
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A short story in the Selkies' Skins continuity centering around Lemon, the shark that binds itself to David as his assistant in the sea to do things David will be in need of later. This story is set before the meeting, when Lemon is still young, before he helps drive off the shark that attacks Mani and Banu during his visit to Kirsty's home during one summer break.

The nurseshark swam through the cold waters off the Irish shore, weaving betwixt the sea stacks marking one of several Drowned Lands that the selkie and various tribes of fishfolk now called their own. Man, of course, had other ideas and most discounted both the Magical beings that lived among them, the Humans that had their own magic, and the various Magical Beings that lived in the sea and wild lands.

He knew of these things, in the vaguest of terms, only from lurking under boats when they fished, instead of hiding in the shallows the way most of his brethren preferred, and listening to those on the large floating things that threw the nets and lines into his world. Why he felt drawn to listen to these things he could not say, just as he could not fathom why the seal folk fascinated him so.

The pup of a shark lazily moved beneath today’s floating story trove at just a fast enough pace to keep up and keep the water moving through his gills. His small thoughts, already forming differently than those of his litter long ago, were half on the conversation he could make out and half on the next time he would go close enough to shore to try seeing what was above the water and on the beach. Perhaps he could see a dog, or a child, whatever a cat was, some more gulls, the strange woman in the red-brown flappy thing whenever something big was going to change, and the Sea Mother Mara called her Priestesses to her…

Maybe even whatever this wolf thing was the story was being told about. Was a wolf to the beings of land what he and his kind were to those of the sea?

Something fell over into the water with a splash, the waves rolling over it. His eye dilated as his attention shifted to it. No blood. No electromagnetic pulse of a heartbeat. No heat. Also, definitely not a mollusk or crab, much less a fish. Still, the water tasted of food. He looked around. No net. No line. Safe? He didn’t want to end up like the Great White he watched last week when he tailed Poachers for that shore-dwelling selkie (not that she knew; she wasn’t his). Carefully, he slid nearer.

No, definitely no line he could see. He bit, taking the whole thing in his mouth before it could possibly spread out into composite pieces and his chance at tasting a probably human ‘dish’ was gone.

Fish. Something bland and doughy. Something creamy. Something zingy, tart, and sweet. Whatever it was they put in the fish (tuna, he thought), he liked the zingy thing. It made him think of the way the water got just before a feed, just without the blood-sweet-tang.

“More. I want more. What is that?”

Plop.

He looked up at the disturbance to see a bright yellow round thing bobbing at the surface.

He lunged, breaching in his eagerness to have this tidbit in his mouth too. His jaws closed in the air, his spots gleaming in the sun, the yellow mashing between teeth and releasing a burst of the copper-gold sunbeams in his mouth. The intensity stunned him in surprise and ecstasy as he slammed back down into the water with a rather impressive spray for a pup of a shark.

“He took my lemon!”

He heard a human shout as he sank past the lunchbox that had fallen overboard on his way up. A couple of other items had spilled out, and he circled back for those, too. The human certainly wasn’t getting in THIS water for them. Why waste?

“That’s why we said before we put out that we never put our lunchboxes on the rail, recreation fishing or not. It’s his lemon now. His whole lunch. None of us are equipped for getting in there. He’s in there anyway.”

“As if I would bite you, you’re so big. Not worth it.” He thought as he looked around for more.

“I don’t remember you saying anything of the sort.”

“Ugh. Tourists.” The guide muttered under his breath. The little shark could feel the emotion of it, though. He swam by the boat with a flipper raised like he’d seen whales do a few times, from a distance. Perhaps if he performed, he could get some treats thrown in too, like the dolphins he avoided? Some fish? Maybe another of those… lemons?

“Is. Is he trying to do tricks?” The tourist asked, leaning over the rail for a better look.

He kept it up, then added in some breaches and worked up to attempt a tail stunt purely because this was sort of fun, confusing the boat rider.

“I… think he might be. Never seen a shark do it. Whales, sometimes, dolphins and seals, sure. They can all be such beggars if it strikes them. But never a shark before.” The captain came to stand beside them, then tossed a fish from their catch at him.

He caught it in his mouth, then tried a twisty jump to see if he could get something else out of them.

“What a weird shark. Wonder if something is wrong with him.” The tourist mumbled, noting that it had been his first fish that had gone back in. It was a little small anyway.

“Maybe not wrong. Maybe just different. That was a lemon you were squawking about? I’ll call him Lemon then.”

There it was, that word that came with the yellow thing. He jumped twice. He liked lemons. But why did the word feel… right?

“Lemon it is then. And with that, we ought to be heading in. I don’t like the look of the clouds beginning to form.”

Lemon slipped back under the water and under the boat, pouting. How could he get more of those… Puckery sweetnesses?

---

Note: Lemon was originally inspired by the leopard sharks (Triakis semifasciata) of Northern California, specifically the ones housed in the aquarium at Crescent City (who will allow some tourists to pet them and avoid others). I had debated between him being a transplanted Leopard shark or a species local to the Irish coasts but could not come up with a convincing backstory as to how he got transported. So he is a fusion of the Leopard shark and Nursehound (Scyliorhinus stellaris) and perhaps a touch of blue or great white, as whenever Mara dips her fingers into something in a targeted fashion, that creature is never guaranteed to remain purely itself on a DNA level.

Mountain Springwolf (Merlin) and I were at our first Night Market in Mt Shasta on Friday Night, August 21st, with the books, posters, and art badges. With the expected crowd, we did not put out the crowns and didn't bring wing blanks, though we probably could have sold some ready-made ones. The fabric ones if they were ready might have done well. It was a slow sales night for us, but a good networking night. I talked with two shop owners that I need to talk a bit more with about some possibilities, made a couple friends, heard about the memoirs of a gentleman in the booth beside us that works with dogs.

The day before it, the new fanzine for The Dark Crystal (The Podling's Tavern) released its first issue. One of my short fanfictions and one of my art pieces made it in. I had flyers, but not the zine itself as I didn't have time to get it printed. I will be taking flyers around to the libraries when I have the energy to go, and I'll donate a copy to each. Such is my plan anyway. I need to scrape together the energy to hit the libraries and get things printed.

The ink at least has arrived.

For upcoming issues I intended to do an article about spirituality in TDC and am working on designing a rune set that the Sifan soothsayers would conceivably use. I have a few other article ideas as well. I'm also working on a divination system that is TDC themed. I am going back and forth between working on the Sifan/Dousan system and the system of symbols used by the Temples of the Waves in my selkie books.

Of course I am documenting my work. These first drafts are kind of embarassing, but by the time I'm done I'll have something on creating divination systems that I can decide whether I want to submit to Llewllyn, or to the zine. I'm leaning toward writing two versions, with emphases leaning the appropriate directions for each audience. It takes a surprising amount of mental energy designing symbols.

In Selkies' news I'm still working on SS2. I'm currently stuck in one of David's chapters. I also plan to be making some ornaments I'll be selling for a winter booth that are going to have some be themed as Seal Point centric, others general Pagan Solstice, and some might wind up as what sand dollars might look like if they got transported to Thra (since canonically the urskek world, Thra, and our world are able to exchange creatures during the Conjunction).

No, the story of how Lemon got his name is not quite ready to release into the Wavelets section.

I have three more batches of sand dollars to process from what was collected from the earthquake induced die off during my coastal trip. Right now I am working on bleaching them in hydrogen peroxide to whiten them more since they have been inside and not out in the sun. After they are where I want them I have been sealing them with a 50/50 mix of water and clear glue to protect and strengthen them a bit. All are intended to either become tree/wall ornaments, altar ornaments, and some of them sea goddess-themed headbands/crowns. Meanwhile, though, it's a lot of processing. This has been a weeks (months now?) long process with how I've had to prioritize where my energy goes. I'll put them up on Etsy and some on Gumroad (not double listing, splitting inventory instead) to see where they sell faster. I also intend to take some to holiday booth events for sale. I think I could post some on Patreon too; I will be double-checking on if I can also do physical inventory with the Patreon store.

I'm going to have some plain, some with silver sparkles, some with gold sparkles, some with runes painted between the star spines, and some bejewelled as if they were cross-populated to or from Thra.

I've got shells that I've been collecting over the years to make things with and finally have enough, so they are getting individual paintings inside and will also get strung to use as ornaments. I'm not certain where my tiny mirrors are so I will probably pick up some more. Some of those shells will get mirrors on them. I'm considering gluing some on the backs of the decorated sand dollars too as a nod to the mirrors that were hung to attract Ameterasu's attention and tempt her back out of the Heavenly Rock Cave she hid in that is told in the Japanese solstice story.

Upcoming booth events I am looking into are a Halloween-adjacent possibility to vend at a Rocky Horror Picture Show screening and the Holiday Craft Fair at College of the Siskiyous in early December. The latter should not interfere with Vadise's next visit when he hopefully comes for Yule and New Year's. It's really early in the month.

Teresa Amehana Garcia or LadyRainStarDrago
Set sometimes around the summer of 1996 or 1997. Possibly 1995, I'd have to combe back through timeline notes.

She emerged from the surf with her sealskin wrapped carefully, merging the forms of seal and young woman in such a way to allow herself to drag the net carrying her harvest of shellfish, kelps, and hunted fish. Behind her trawled the little shark that had adopted her – or more accurately her boyfriend during that summer visit. Kirsty turned and fumbled a fish out of her net, then tossed it to Lemon.

Why Lemon? She had no idea why that was the shark’s name. It just was. Lemon leaped and caught it like a puppy, doing a ridiculous tail dance backward and out to sea before falling back under the water. Kirsty shook her head in bemusement.

“Silly toofer.” She mumbled to herself, then hit her knees in the sand when a furry blubber ball launched itself into the back of them. Her not as padded toucas impacted the little head, and both she and he yelped.

“Banu! Get back here!” The kelpie pounded across the sand and yanked the little white and brown specked seal pup up and out with his teeth.

Kirsty retrieved her net bag before the sea could reclaim it, then cast a bewildered eye on the coastal chaos. “I only went fishing. I do this every morn I’m home.”

“But you were gone so long!” Banu bawled, dangling and crossing his flippers across his chest at her. Another human gesture picked up from spending more and more time out of his skin and in a human shape.

Kirsty made a mental note to speak to Mani about her son again, when she wasn’t so worn from the weaving she had undertaken so the lad would have proper coverings when in human shape. His mother still had mistrust of anything obtained from human markets, Cowan or Mystic. “There was a dolphin that needed some help birthing. Odd time for it.”

“Don’t they have their own folk for that?” Banu pressed.

Byron set him down and huffed, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Mara’s touch was needed, and I was there.” Kirsty said sadly, gently. Her eyes drifted out to sea. “I have a role to fill, you know. While I still live here, I fill mother’s while she can’t. Then later I’ll have my own.”

“I don’t like it. Mum says what a Priestess does is dangerous.”

“It can be, yes. But still needed.” She ruffled his head before pulling the hood of her skin back, allowing her face to take the form she was born with. “That’s just life, little cousin. Are you going to help me carry this now that you’ve made my knees throb?”

“Sorry. I was just so glad to see you back on shore. You know Mum doesn’t let me in without an adult.” The child wriggled, then clawed at the seam of his skin before it split open.

She gave Byron an amused look, shifting her attention to give the boy his privacy. “Hide and seek?”

“Yes.”

“Anything I ought to be warned about before getting up to the house?”

“Your other cousins are out on the boat. Your father is still at work and not home, you’ve not been gone as long as small ones think. Your mother is still seeing the Light Keeper’s daughter.”

Banu tugged on her arm lightly, then the weight in her net lightened as he lifted part. Kirsty smiled and looked down at the dark haired boy, grinning up at her proudly with how he’d learned to wrap his skin so it would stay put and still have him properly covered. “Ok, I’m dressed now.” His eyes had not settled on a color yet and still shifted, just as his coat was only just beginning to start getting the brown specks that would likely eventually fully take over, judging by his mother’s coat.

“Good job, you’re getting faster.”

“I still don’t like clothes, though.”

“Judging by some of the stories I’ve heard about younger siblings at school, I don’t think most small children do.”

“Did you at my age?”

Kirsty gave Byron a shake of her head, curtailing the memory he was likely going to ‘helpfully’ regale the boy with. “No, but I also didn’t have my skin yet, so I had to wear them anyway from very, very, very small. You’re so lucky you were born with one. Come on, let’s get this up to the cottage and see if your mum needs any help before I start the day’s brew job.”

“Ok. Can we have that fishy pie thing again for dinner, do you think?”

“We’ll see, I think your mum wanted to do the dinner tonight.”

“Aw, that means no human food tonight then...”

Kirsty snorted. “Not all human food is that great, just remember this. Be grateful of what we have. Some places don’t have fish at all.”

“That’s horrible. They must be so sad.”

“Maybe.”

Their steps slowly climbed the shore and into the village. Tiny huts and little caves now occupied what had once been grass over sleeping ruins. Kirsty wondered how many more would find their way back to Seal Point, and what she could best do for the growing number of refugee selkies.

July 6 2026

LadyRainStarDrago AKA Teresa “Amehana” Garcia

“You have the most exquisite heartache.” His voice touched her ear softly, followed by fingers brushing hair off her face. “You should take better care of yourself though. I doubt you deserve to choke on your own sorrow… delicious as it is.”

Her eyes turned to the voice as she flinched away from the warm fingers sweeping the hair from her face. Deep brown eyes met hers, set within a majestically owlish face framed by wild white curls of moonlight. The scent wafting off him were the scents of the woodland night – the stars, the cedars, the oaks, the moonblooms and dangerfruit flower-vines – and something richer and deeper that pulled at that pain filled spot within her soul.

“I won’t harm you, and you’ve obviously been harmed enough, little meadowsweet.” He smiled gently and settled beside her on the lush grass, then looked up at the moon where it rode the sky above the oak glade. “But I will stand guard while you pour out your pain. Forests aren’t safe at night, you know, little meadowsweet.”

“Pointed ears. Pointed teeth. Owlish features. Surely fae.” She thought to herself, processing the interruption. She disliked the beauty, how soon she found herself attracted to someone other than the faithless lover she’d dealt with.

His eyebrow rose and the nostril she could see in his profile flared. Another thrill in places she didn’t want thrilled. A slow smirk from him and incline of his head. The night grew colder as the moon continued along her course through the gems of the starry ocean.

“So, tell me about this lout. Name, description, what he did. What you’d like done. His fears. I very much dislike someone so tender and innocent being in such pain.” He removed the green, heavily embroidered, jacket he wore and carefully arranged it around her shoulders. “I can’t let such deep wrongs go unaddressed in my territory, you see, even if I wasn’t already inclined toward you.”

To her surprise she found the story tumbling from her lips as he tucked her under his arm? Wing? Things were fuzzier than they ought to be. Time bent and his scent, warmth, and eyes occupied far too much of her mind. She fought it, but the harder she fought the gentler his smile and the closer his face.

“You… You’re feeding… On me...” She rasped weakly at the end, much closer to his lips than she wanted to be.

“On your heartbreak, my dear. Not you. It’s been awhile since anyone bungled into my glade with any real troubles needing righting. Don’t worry, I’ll make this worth your while.” The caress on her side soothed her far more than she wanted. “Just release it all to me. I’m very a very hungry fae. I’ll not besmirch your honor though… not unless you invite me.” He chuckled at her blush, inhaling appreciatively. “I’d prefer to know you several days more first before that though. It’s been some time since I’ve had other offerings too.”

She rasped, annoyed at her response to his jests.

“Good girl. The spunkier the better. Now then, you must be exhausted after such an evening. You might fall ill if I let you sleep out here. How about I take you somewhere with a nice, soft, warm bed? Hm? When you wake up, all this nonsense will be over, and life can start anew.”

She clung as he scooped her up. “How… am I in your thrall so easily?”

“Well, little meadowsweet, you did say ‘I wish someone could help me’ before you collapsed here with that chunk of hair. And here I am. We can hash out what to actually call each other tomorrow. Tonight you ought to sleep while I do a little hunting after I’ve tucked you in. I’ll borrow your trophy, too, if you don’t mind.” He winked and smiled warmly as he carried her through the hidden door in his oak. “Can’t leave a lady alone in her despair, can I?”

So many people like to write about elves and elven princes. I wanted something a little more... possibly Druidic this time. Where is the line between fae and deity? I felt like blending a little male tree spirit and a little owl together too.

Today's chosen prompt was “You have the most exquisite heartache.” – by WindySilver
https://flashficmonth.wordpress.com/2026/07/05/ffm-links-6-july-2026/

Also posting to all the usual places.

Linktree: www.linktr.ee/Amehana

July 5 2026

LadyRainStarDrago AKA Teresa Amehana Garcia

---

The dragoness moved through the shrine on two feet, drifting with the gentleness of morning mist in her human guise. The red and white of her miko shōzoku glowed in the early morning beneath Amaterasu’s rays. Amehana’s steps wove from the residential hall of her family to the Honden where her own mirror, similar in some ways to Amaterasu’s, dwelled.

Amehana inhaled deeply, allowing the scents of the gardens and the lingering overnight incense seeping from the various subshrines to permeate her lungs. Having not yet had her morning tea and rice she fed instead on the elemental energies around her. Food would be there when she was done. Their son and daughter were grown, the boy in his father’s old position as guard at the Youkaimura gate, the girl in the kitchen performing the duties of lesser miko and preparing the morning food offerings. Something she herself had not had to do now for… centuries?

Time was hard to hold onto now. She now easily understood why the elder kami could no longer keep track of it, not even her own father.

The Storm Shrine rose before her and she ascended the steps after leaving her geta to the side of the stairs. As usual, with each step she felt the separation between herself and the plane of living normal life was in grow, thankfully not to the degree her thread to physicality would snap again. Making bodies to inhabit was not something she wished to do today. Her hand slid open the doors, and the light of sun and moon (wherever Tsukiyomi currently was) lightly struck the surface of the Storm Mirror.

“Arashi Kagami,” she intoned softly.

“Arashi Amehana Hoshitatsu Tenryū Himemikokami.” Her mirror intoned in return.

They flowed the energy between them peacefully, parts of a whole joining in similar fashion to how her mate had long ago healed the two main halves of her separated incarnation. She allowed her consciousness to release the final few trappings of incarnated life and spread itself out among the local storm systems and then reach beyond, touching up against the other remaining storm dragons of her clan around the world… withdrawing whenever feeling the seeking energy of her clan’s rival.

After all these centuries, they still sought her? A married woman? A very happily married woman with no intention of giving up her kitsune? She snorted. Gathering the news and state of the worlds was more important than dealing with such petty concerns. If found, she’d deal with it. Then probably bewilder her mate again, just because she enjoyed –

There, a dissonance.

Her consciousness congealed above a facility far from human, yet firmly in the human world. Here, she took the form of a roughly dragon shaped serpentine cloud, her five toes per hand and foot, six wings, and prehensile tail plume each splayed wide to maintain the hold.

Perhaps she should have had tea first after all.

Below her sprawled a small compound of strangely shaped buildings seemingly grown from the plant and mineral life around them. Vines and trees intertwined with spires of crystals of such quality Amehana found herself fighting her species tendency toward hoarding that got the Western variety in such deep trouble with equally greedy humans. With the handiwork she witnessed, Amehana half expected some elves to pop out of somewhere.

Nope, no elves. Not after a morning of watching. Her distant physical body reminded of a missed opportunity called breakfast and a new due collection called lunch. All this time it seemed nothing had stirred.

Then, she saw them.

Tall, thin, rather Nordic looking. Definitely blond. Amehana groaned. Lemurians on holiday. Lovely. Why weren’t they around Mount Shasta? They rarely left the area. They rarely even came to the surface anymore, much less left the Mount Shasta area… like… dwarves… and elves…

The earlier disturbance was probably just one of their little generators to manipulate the weather. HER weather. In HER bailiwick.

“Feckers...” She grumbled to herself, followed by a few other unpriestessly words but definitely things her very distant ancestor Susanoo would consider clever and thus still at least kami-like. “How dare they?”

She’d read the old records. She had the shattered memories of one of the times she’d been shattered, thanks to Atlantis, Lemuria, and Mu, resulting in all the myriad of her clan. Blood memories. She was aware how close this probably splinter group was beginning to come to that old path. Bad enough humans were already in it, they didn’t need Lemurians finding it again too.

“I’d better report to the council, though it’s not Kamiari-Sai yet. It’s been long since we had to have an emergency gathering. Hopefully it won’t take a month like the yearly does...” Amehana sighed her herself, a plume of cloud spilling from her mouth like flame and steam. Lightning flashed within her as she darkened, her waters gathering in her irritation and her size growing. All unnoticed by those below.

With a flash, she sent a summons, exercising her rarely used right and standing. In the mountains of Rhian the Kagami Arashi flashed within the Purple Shrine and wards activated around the territory of the Elemental Empire. In Draiganpairc the Dragon Stone glowed, calling the witches of the O’Drake bloodline to attention wherever they were scattered around the world. This tugged on the Makay bloodline of Seal Point through their ancient blood oath.

“We have a problem, and the Heart of Storms needs protecting. This I see from within Arashi Kagami.” Her words rolled as thunder through the web of life to each kami.

Below the sea her grandfather looked toward her. Within his stronghold in the mountains her father paled, and dropped his teacup. Together, unknowingly as one, they rose to answer her call, unwilling to leave the last of her clutch to be undefended and risk a repeat of disasters long past.

---

Alright! Caught up! Day Five's story actually managing to get posted on the day before any distractions calling me away from that. Whoo!

suddenly remembers she's been forgetting to update her fictionpress

Wow, over 20 years of posting my work for others to see, and it catches up with me how many places I don't post to as often as I should. Good thing I'm posting here first...

Need more coffee. I'm very glad I've got this to post to before remembering to update those old places. Meanwhile, my boy's messaged me that he's picked up some food to take with us to Mom's so we have food to eat while we are back where I grew up to run our booth the two days of Big Valley Days. It astounds me how far he's come in his development. I wanted a family business when I first fell pregnant with his big sister, I can certainly say that I have one now with how they've helped with different events over the years as they grew.

Linktree: www.linktr.ee/Amehana

July 4th 2026

LadyRainStarDrago AKA Teresa Amehana Garcia

She glowered at the small green orbs that now assaulted her plate, knowing as they fell from Cooky’s ladle that she would have to allow them to do the same to her palate and her gut. Woe to the unfortunate sisters who would be subjected to tonight’s flatulence performance in her shared cell.

Sister Mardra hid a sigh of relief on discovering that a scoop of peas was not the only item served for dinner tonight. It had been done many times before. What was the occasion for two proteins?

More importantly, what was it?

She let her feet flow down familiar paths to her habitual seat. First, the potatoes and cabbage. Next, the creamy mystery meat, served over a healthy and surprising helping of French Fries. Truly divine, blessings to whatever kind soul had donated the beastie to their ancient nunnery. The Sisters of the Trumping Silences were temporarily saved from… the peas. The source of their trumps.

The Abbess watched the sisters with her slate eyes, lingering lightly on Mardra. Mardra placed a large spoonful of the pustulating peas into her mouth and chewed with exaggerated gratuity. Mardra had no doubt those who revealed their dislike of the sacred legume were spirited away into the winding passages beneath the nunnery. Trying to eat them all proved as difficult as usual. Thankfully, she had also been equipped with some French Bread… Mashing them up she spread the peas on the bread, also succeeding somewhat in masking the taste.

The Legend of their own Labyrinth was often whispered among the sister after lights out, particularly the mysterious link to the alligators of the Everglades and what legendary item of provenance they guarded.

Perhaps, whatever it was, would eventually free them from the peas.

Sister Mardra had just finished the last bit of her peas, distracting herself by mentally rerunning the scene wherein Anakin Skywalker had his limbs rather forcefully – she smiled at the pun – removed from his keeping. A soft clatter cut through the silence.

A suspicious wooden dish sat beside her own, bearing a yellow dangerfruit, lemon, and lavender flan concoction that normally would have been met with excitement by any of them. A treat? Again, what was the occasion?

Wait… What was the occasion? Her eyes narrowed, focusing more on the delicacy, then following the arm that was still withdrawing.

The Abbess.

“Sister, it is due to your diligence in tending the wounded on the paths that bring us such unaccustomed plenty this night. It is fitting you receive the first serving of pudding.” Her voice, coarse from disuse other than the soft prayer chants, was difficult to decipher at the distance from her ear. “See me in my chambers after Martins.”

She nodded a reply and ate her pudding as ordered, but Sister Mardra hadn’t been aware that her stomach was capable of dropping any lower. What could the Abbess want?

When the time finally came, and after nearly getting lost in the maze of hallways and stairs yet again (despite all her many long years in the cloister), and a close encounter with a suspiciously steamy “chocolate bar” clearly deposited by the Abbess’s French Bulldog during one of its nighttime escapes helping the cats combat the mice and rats… Mardra finally stood before the simple wooden door.

Which was already opening, since the Abbess had been waiting impatiently for her to catch up. A bony finger pointed in, and she followed it to the seat on the bed slab she’d just been assigned. Not the best start, in her mind. Clearly, also not the best start in the Abbess’s mind, either!

“I am here, Abbess. What did you need of me?” Her eyes met the rheumy ones that were sinking to join her on the bed.

“I have noticed that the world seems to be calling you louder than usual.”

Her stomach turned over. Was this about the crying spat when the ski competition had been interrupted by commercials? Had she missed a pea, and this was how she would be dismissed?

“No louder than usual, to my knowledge. I have my work here, praying for the souls of all those who need better nutrition, roughage, and tending the wounds of those braving the alligators.”

“None know the dangers that await those who try to find what they guard.” The Abbess made the sign over herself, Sister Mardra following and bowing her head on reflex. “But no. I have seen a sign.” She pointed at the small wood sign. It bore Sister Mardra’s former worldly name. “The adventure party had it in their possession.”

She nearly threw up her peas. “Elia Schmitd shall unite and guide us to save the world from the Trump of Completion, with the Trump of Completion.” She read slowly, seeing the literal sign she’d been dreaming of for days. “But, what if I don’t?”

“Then I’m afraid the end of the world looks very wrong and messed up indeed.”

“What even IS the Trump of Completion?”

“That, we need you for.” The Abbess pinned her with a gaze. “Do you remember how you resurrected that man?”

“I… farted… While treating him. It brought him back.”

“And what took him out again?”

“Farting in the medical bay when checking on him...”

“Yes, and so, you must now go through the Sacred Tunnels and Steps of Solemnizations, exit out into the swamp, and go find yourself. It is time.”

“I can’t save the world. I’m just a flatulent middle-aged woman...”

“Save. End. All the same. You must discover how to trumpet the new age into being.”

“Can I at least get a night’s sleep first?”

“Of course.” The Abbess looked at her. “We are The Sisters of the Trumping Silences, not a company of young adventurers on their first Quest. In the morning, after outfitting yourself. See the Chambress in the morning for your provisions.”

“Yes Abbess.”

She left for her cell, trailing odiferous reluctance.

Yes, escapes instead of escapades was a choice.

Should I start tagging the short stories with the genres?

Edit: I forgot to include that this was done using the FFM challenge prompt. https://flashficmonth.wordpress.com/2026/07/03/ffm-links-4-july-2026/

Generators chosen Event Prompt https://flashfictionmonth.itch.io/flash-fiction-month-event-prompt-generator

Event: The end of the world looks wrong and messed up.

Tense: Future tense.

Genre restriction: Cannot be apocalyptic.

- by MinneWinne

---

Campfire Tales Prompt https://flashfictionmonth.itch.io/flash-fiction-month-campfire-tales-challenge-generator

1. Whodunit 2. Each suspect narrates a portion of the story 3. French bread, french fries, and a French bulldog - challenge issued by ilyilaice

---

Adventure Prompter https://flashfictionmonth.itch.io/flash-fiction-month-adventure-prompt-generator

Character: A thirty something woman, values solitude and peace, hates peas, her struggles with depression and anxiety have reduced her ability to deal with shenanigans and people. She cries at commercials but laughed hysterically when Anakin Skywalker got his limbs chopped off. - by NamelessShe Setting: An old nunnery, with a hidden maze of catacombs below it and mysterious staircases that don't lead anywhere. Or do they!? - by salshep MacGuffin: No one knew what the gators of the Everglades guarded, nor the dangers that awaited anyone who try to find out. - by Teela-Y

---

Daily

Why make lemonade when you can make so much more with a yellow danger fruit? by Teresa “Amehana” Garcia

We return briefly to the Selkies' Skins universe, sometime in Kirsty's first year of teaching.

July 3 2026

LadyRainStarDrago AKA Teresa “Amehana” Garcia

---

Kirsty stretched, then turned over in her bed. Her arm reached out and only found her cat. Blue eyes slowly slitted open in the pre-dawn light.

Right, work day. In the castle, where her aunt specifically requested no hanky-panky. Why did they opt for rooms in the castle itself instead of getting a house nearby or one of the outbuildings, like Thomas and Ally, also professors, did?

When was the sale of the place she and David wanted to be expected to finish again?

Definitely a coffee day.

“Mroooooowww...” The large white fluff ball complained and balled up.

“Me too… Me too...” Kirsty blinked and focused with difficulty on the window.

Why was she awake before her alarm? David would still be sleeping, probably, in his own bed. Surely. She snorted, discovering that some part of her did hope for some romantic gesture from her husband, like showing up on the broom balcony, tapping at the window for morning kisses before the breakfast that would bolster him for his Potions class and her for her Merstudies students.

Nope. No David through the glass. Not in his human self, not the ravenperson thing that had figured so much in their last year of school she knew he’d been working on, no hippogriff form for early morning flights… and definitely no sedated werewolf.

Be big problems if she woke up finding her sedated werewolf on her broom balcony instead of where he sequestered himself to hunt and snooze during his transformation. Problems coffee wouldn’t fix.

“The horrors persisted because you never did anything to stop them.” Kirsty quoted to herself, sighing deeply. “Right then. Early start to my day it is.” She slid out of her bed, her familiar complaining again at the retreat of her warmth. Her gauzy white sleeping gown billowed as she made her way to her dressing table. Not that her husband was there to be impressed by it since he was in his own room, and if he’d seen her yawn wracked stumbles, he’d probably have gotten her back in bed and asleep with that strange pull she’d never figured out in all these years she’d known him. Definitely none of the hanky-panky – either sort – they’d been warned of when hired.

“Coffee… strong, sweet, on the non-acid end. Blond roast. Stomach isn’t ready for the dark.” She placed her order, willing a connection, still too sleepy to conjure it herself, and relying on the kitchen’s magics to pick up on and deliver the request. Being a professor, especially at such a young age, definitely had perks not available to her when she was just a student hiding what she was. “Ah, some eel and egg on toast to see me over til Breakfast is ready, too, please.”

She felt the acknowledging pulse on the other end of the connection. Whoever was on watch so early had received her request. Absolutely no way she felt like making her way down all those flights of stairs to go directly bother the cooks. Nope. That would be like mixing up a lemon and a danger fruit.

“Stairs...” She sighed, slumping against the dressing table and drawing her sealskin better around her shoulders over her sleep gown. Distantly, she felt the tide, the call of the sea. She would need another swim in the loch soon. “I hope you slept better than I seem to have, David.”

Her coffee and eggy fishy toast apparated before her, prepared just the way she liked it. A little pickled slivered seaweed garnished her toast, telling her exactly which of the crew had received the request. Her lips curved upward gently. The coffee was as velvet and sweet as she needed it for such an early start, the caffeine strong and without the changes that bothered her on super early mornings. Comfort and strength began filling out her limbs, giving her back the closest thing she’d ever have to land legs.

The time for the Hunt was approaching soon. Perhaps she could throw a salmon at David should she see him on the shore during his. He could share it with the wolf pack Hearne had drawn into his life, perhaps. Doubtful he and his pack would leave her any venison on the shore… but she did feel as much of the pull to them as she did to the merfolk in the loch. Not something that had a word in any language, something spanning species. Not kinship, per se, and not a caretaker role… But… something…

Another sip. Another bite. Her thoughts turned to how best to guide the young souls she must shape in her Merstudies lessons. How best to serve Mara, goddess of the sea, The Lady, still with pieces of her name missing, and goddess of the land’s waters, and Hearne, lord of the Hunt? What should she do today, in their service?

“Waking up more would be a good start.” The Lady’s voice curled in her ear. “I had a memory. It may lead to another Piece.” The steam of the coffee caressed Kirsty’s face. “Sleepy selkies have scattered thoughts.”

“Mmm, so that’s why I’m awake so early. Might need two cups. Too early.”

---

The prompt was: The horrors persisted because you never did anything to stop them. – by bunnythewriter

https://flashficmonth.wordpress.com/2026/07/02/ffm-links-3-july-2026/

Posting to all my usual places. Maybe I can catch up and get today's posted too later in the day.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Amehana

Linktree: https://www.linktr.ee/Amehana

LadyRainStarDrago AKA Teresa Amehana Garcia

July 2, 2026

---

The monastery cats were chanting again. What made it TRULY concerning was that it wasn’t Latin this time.

“Harae tamae, kiyome tamae, rokkon shōjō.” Nine meowtiful voices tolled from before the altar within the stone chamber and rolled out the doors, then over the garden. The strike of a staff and chime of a bell.

The priest poked his head around to peek in the open doorway. Just as he could hear, nine cats sat performing their calls. Before them lay nine deceased mice, recently caught, tiny black eyes staring glassily into infinity. No staffs. No bells. No incense despite the odor of catnip toasting away in invisible censers.

“Again, Brother Dwellyth?” the gardener came up the walk. Over his shoulder,at he carried the hoe he had borrowed yesterday to cover his hoeing both at home and the kirk until he could replace his own.

“Aye, again, Michael.” Brother Dwellyth looked to his longtime friend.

“I still think you’re just working too hard.” Michael replied, his ginger hair gleaming beneath the sun’s light as he cocked his head just so.

“You hear it too.” Dwellyth passed a sweaty palm over his forehead and dwindling hair.

“Aye, but they are cats. You know how the cats here are.”

“Cats don’t speak human language.”

“Special cats, too much communion wine, not enough food, and studying too late at night. Some mysteries just aren’t meant for humans to know.”

“We’ll never get a proper Priest for long, though, if the cats keep scaring them away.”

“Do we need one? What is the offering today, anyway? More mice?”

Dwellyth looked at Michael over his glasses and sighed. “Yes. I’m not ordained a Priest, remember? Also because of them.”

Michael shrugged. “You’ll think of something.”

The cats began another chant. Invisible paper whisks whisked away at whatever things the cats prayed against.

“I highly doubt my idea of just declaring this a cat-run establishment will work.”

“Is there really anyone left to gainsay you?” Michael smiled, his green eyes gleaming just a bit too cat-like for Dwellyth’s comfort.

---

As usual, posting next to my DeviantArt and other platforms. I'm having to play catch-up with posting. The bookmark files took up a lot of energy (and Monday I'll have to go over the hill to have them printed, as I am out of printer ink).

The Mists of Writers’ Valley

LadyRainStarDrago AKA Teresa Amehana Garcia

The mist rolls in over the hills. It would be so serene if you didn’t know what it brings.

The lookout sits in her tower, securing her corner of the compound. Whether the other three still retained their sanity, Hera could never be sure. It’s not like they met in the mess hall. No, they had all long ago taken to having their meals in their towers and coordinating among themselves who would be on watch when.

They were all that was left. All that still stood between their charges and what had taken the others.

Her eyes narrowed at a movement within the mist pouring into their arm of the valley. Behind her, she knew, another mist was rising from the creek. A flash of green, and her eyes focused on it.

A tendril? A tail? A head on a long neck?

Red spots glowed, and the siren song of vintage typewriters being worked at speed filled her ears.

Ah, of course. Today, they came.

Hydra. Their compound’s muse. Their nurse. Their God.

Her fingers itched, and she gazed into the visions flitting over her mind’s eye, scrying the mists just as ancient fortune tellers and Druidic bards once had long ago, far across the sea. Her hand drifted toward the silent alarm. It was time to release them.

The writers emerged from their cages, starved for sustenance and inspiration. It was time. Time to feed. Time to dream. Time to write. Only through the protective veil of the written word could the wisdom and folly Hydra sang and projected be safely allowed to come before those normies still used to traditional vanilla stories who hid in the labyrinth below.

Hera smiled. Things eldritch soothed her. She was going to hand on to this gig as long as she could, shepherding those writers seeking to dabble toes in waters outside their more comfortable genres. Other things stirred in the mists too. Zombies were not the way they used to be written of… Hydra would likely feed well on those who chose not to brave the new world and cling to the old way of things.

Writers’ Valley was a weird place, but she’d never felt more at home.

---

Viva Hydra! It's Flash Fiction Month! Pretty cool to see one of my suggestions made it in.

This is posted here, my Patreon, and will be mirroring to my Livejournal and DeviantART as well. If you like my art and writing, point your friends my way, and poke at my Patreon.

Linktree: linktr.ee/Amehana

Patreon: www.patreon.com/Amehana

July 11 and 12 I will be at Big Valley Days in the park at Adin, California with my books, art, bookmarks, a few crystals, and whatever other art and costume supplies my niece and son have prepared to send with me. My son might also be offering custom crown making at Big Valley days. I will also take signup sheets for individual workshopping scheduling with me.

July 24, 25, and 26 for the Lumberjack Fiesta in HooHoo Park in McCloud, Ca, I'll have my yearly booth space in one of the stone pavillions with the same. Merlin will definitely be offering custom crown making for the kids there.

Hopefully I will have 6 by 9 paperbacks of the new short story guide with me. If not, I should be able to have a few old school soft covers run up for sale until the pretty edition of the print copy arrives. I also intend to have some of the Saunders books with me for those looking for Christmas in July shopping items.

With luck Merlin and I will be able to afford booth space at one of the harvest festivals or the holiday shopping venues. It is my intent to get out there more. I'll have batteries in my Zoom recorders as well, in case I get any surprise folklore fieldwork opportunities for the back-burner local folklore projects.

Looking for a copy of my latest book before the official release? Visit my Patreon and My Kofi to purchase directly from me. The official ebook release is June 30th, with plans to have the print version ready for sale in online bookstores the same day.

Shop on Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/amehana/shop

Shop on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/amehana/shop?

Shop on Gumroad: https://thgstardragon.gumroad.com/l/ovyad

Preorders (most locations): https://books2read.com/u/bMkXWB

Amazon Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H4DVJ8K1?th=1&psc=1&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.IdEjUbzlwCMp8lPGJBjGVEdHH-7VOv1rz8Gk5NNTxModSit7B4tKwZ7NPXYtCyiOaoEQLQ4KJacf_L0CUHTDKfDfsy3GPEbNWe2JDnLwnbAk-ZRnvvtIWVDEOeGF8hGWeGnZ0NmnKU6wET9mDv3d9ZE1SYR8a9jzygMZGKamMhPfQ_xVLsJ47UR6qDv18IrgLu14HCmh2sLXcyqU-wCL78cf7xnwUntNdzIWqfdDI64.mo_g58b7gePQC15Zv-icYpx6_vY6xCgRCTdCvhu5bXQ&dib_tag=AUTHOR

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fun-short-story-fundamentals-teresa-garcia/1150339677?ean=2940196883132

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id6777609126

After working on it for two years while pushing through medical issues... it is finally ready for release. November 1st!

Santa has had many helpers over his long years, and many friends. Elves and reindeer are not the only denizens of the North Pole. Join Santa, Mrs. Claus, and some of their newest workers, Roger, Becky, and Macy, along with his old friends. Old enemies, old loves, and more clash to create a prickly situation that only Santa's Other Workers and some unexpected volunteers hold the keys to help diffuse. This time it isn't Santa or Rudolph saving Christmas, but three very special young people and some unlikely friends. Join Alexander Saunders by the fireside with a cup of hot cocoa and hear his tale.

This tale is perfect to read aloud with the family during the holidays. The author writes his stories intending for them to be read that way, in the hopes of inspiring the reader. Magic, adventure, wonder, and hope are themes he enjoys working with.

Here are the links for pre-ordering your copy (or copies) of Alexander Saunders' latests release, "The Other Workers of Santa Claus" through THG StarDragon Publishing. The book releases November 1st in both print and ebook starting at these retailers/distributors and is expected to be pushed from them to other distributors connected in the networks through those originating points. Pre orders are open NOW to be preparing for the Winter Holiday Season. Amazon so far is the only one that does not have the link for the print edition live yet, and according to their mail the print page will go visible on release day. This notice will be updated with that link after that page goes live.

Amazon

Print (live on the 1st)

Kindle (live now) https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0FTXFD33X

Smashwords (owned by Draft 2 Digital)

All Digital Formats (live now) https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1872074

Barnes & Noble

Print (live now) https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-other-workers-of-santa-claus-alexander-saunders/1148463314?ean=9798260317754

Ebook (live now) https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-other-workers-of-santa-claus-alexander-saunders/1148463314?ean=2940184446936

Apple iStore

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/isbn9798224246359

#fantasy #adventure #christmas #magic #savingchristmas #witchesandwizards

The sparkling studded tentacle swept across the deck, disturbing the peace of the gloaming. Ordinarily, it would have been able to grab one of the plentiful small forms usually found on such platforms. It knew gelfling were aboard. They were the land-dwelling forebears of an ancient foe its kind sometimes fell prey to while still small. Shouts reverberated in the air, footfalls thudded across timbers. Food was there, clearly, yet… something was wrong. Where was it exactly?

In the charm and tapestry strewn cabin of the seafaring Sifa family’s vessel a sunfire-red-haired mother clutched her equally Rose Sun blessed daughter. On a table against the wall a rock carved with the three moons, remnant of an ancient temple palace handed down generations from mother to daughter, rested on a small pillow. A small dish held sand from one of the sacred sites, smoldering charcoal, and a mixture of vision inducing herbs and fire coral dust. Languid ropes of scented smoke laced the air and opened the senses. Neither mother nor child were anxious, there were no whimpers despite the heaviness of the air and tension emanating from the deck.

There was no need. They’d been given warning. The crystalline octopid currently assailing the crew above deck was a gift, after all. Soon, there would be steaks and tentacle bits, and the hide could be stripped and treated for boots and belts, crystal outgrowths processed into gems and charms for sale, and ink. Of course, they’d have to earn those boons. Thra was generous, but still required they make effort.

The childling looked into the wisping flags of smoke and reached a tiny hand out at what she saw in them. Her piercing blue eyes dimly glowed with the blue-green vliya her parents were beginning to associate with the odd events, even for a Farseer, that tended to unfold around her. “Up. Need up.”

“Up? You are up.”

“Up!” She pointed up. “Up there. I need up there.” The child proceeded to wriggle and squirm, attempting to worm her way out of her mother’s grip with enough force she began to worry about damage to her daughter’s wingbuds. “Now. Must go there!”

Sidima didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to risk her precious baby girl being snatched by the octopid... whether or not it was a gift of food. If her eyes weren’t already glowing and getting brighter… “Merfid! Stop. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll take you up but you have to stay with me.

“Up.” Merfid settled down and leaned placidly against her mother’s chest again. “Important.”

Sidima flicked her ears and sighed. “You’re already talking like the Maudra I’m know you’ll be one day.”

“Maudra.” Merfid tasted the word and wrinkled her nose. “Bitter. Heavy.”

She nodded at her daughter’s statement as she went to the door. “It is. Many hard decisions, but you’ll make them well. It runs in your blood from the old places. We have a duty we’re waiting for.”

“Boring.” Her new favorite word. It didn’t sound like flying or swimming, things she wanted to do but in one case wasn’t allowed so far out and in the other not physically possible yet. “Up. Hurry, Mama. Almost time.”

She made her way through the hall, up the steps from the living quarters, and then out the door. The charm and talisman festooned crew, her current husband among, them busily avoided the reach of the hungry octopid. This one was a red so deep it was nearly black, obviously very close to the infuriated state her vision had said it would be near the time their foe would die. She just hadn’t seen how.

Merfid pointed at the creature. “It will come up. Need eye and mouth.” She pointed to the other side of the ship. “Grabby thingy coming. Cut. Mouth and eye both be big.”

“Sidima, Merfid!” Her husband signed sternly from his current spot on a spar above a sweeping tentacle that was still occupied with trying to find where all the morsels were hidden. “Go back in. Not safe!” His dark eyes snapped, rarely firm or forbidding. His Drenchen ancestry showed in the darkness of his dreadlocks, breadth of his nose, gashes of gills pressed tight shut, and the green though somewhat chafed hue of his skin.

Sidma shook her head, then spread regal moth-like blue, green and silver moon-marked wings to flit over to him. Her hands were full of childling, who was busily watching what she knew would be at least two timelines, thus silencing her hands from signing in return. She held Merfid tighter and leaned to his ear, relaying to him what little Merfid had had the language to share.

Wide partly webbed hands flashed instructions to his crew. Males rose higher in rigging, some grasping ropes to swing. Females changed their positions in the air. Every one of them had their blades drawn. They knew the hunt was about to get more interesting.

As predicted, the creature rose. It locked a baleful eye on Merfid, who cheekily waved at it. “Thank you.”

The Bosun coughed, yet again caught off guard by the strange progeny of the Lost Hiding In View. The octopid would have squinted if it could. It focused on the strangely calm tiny thing. Prey, in its experience, was never so calm. Yet, the eyes that looked back not only glowed with something that prickled the back of its brain… but the spawn seemed impossibly old for such a tiny frame. Something about its lack of fear prodded just right.

He would teach it fear. Now all the morsels could be seen; they must have been mocking him. He struck, intending to lash and grapple both the young female and its mother. Eyes widened and mouth gaped, preparing to receive them.

Fire bit tentacles deep. Harpoons and swords struck for eyes and mouth if they weren’t already occupied.

Merfid watched, whispered ancient words no one had taught her, honoring the passing. The glow left her eyes.

---

This a fanfiction flash fiction set within the Dark Crystal. It takes place during the late Age of Division with the Age of Resistance fated to begin a seeming handful of trine later. Merfid is a very young child in this one, learning to speak, perhaps about 2ish. She is not the young woman of the dawning of the Age of Resistance.

Posted also to my Patreon.

Linktree: www.linktr.ee/Amehana

She sighed and leaned back in the desk chair. Piles of paperwork still waited for her to catch up on. Stacks glowered their reprimands at her. How dare she be away trying to save lives. The audacity.

“Your Majesty?” Her aide set a tray on the desk. Steam coiled up from her coffee.

“Still unbroken.” She picked up the drink, sipped, grimaced. “For now. I might though if the next cup isn’t a lot stronger.”

“Your Majesty!” His brown eyes rounded, wide and scandalized. “Your health!”

“Is fine. How many did I save with that force wall? How many were in that army I faced down last week?” She smiled sweetly and raked him over. “You didn’t do too badly yourself though, Hot Stuff.”

He huffed and ruffled his deep brown hair before remembering they were at the palace again, his cheeks reddening. “Your Majesty...” The discomfort and desire for more praise warred in his voice. He reddened even further under her gaze. “You… you… Stop playing with me!”

“But why?” The Queen leaned forward, watching him saucily and resting her elbows most unregally on her desk. “You’re so cute when flustered.”

“Can’t you pick on some prince from some other country when they come trying to court you?” He straightened his clothes while attempting to reclaim some dignity again.

“But they’re all stuffy boring peacocks. You meet and parry with wordplay unless you’re at the end of your rope. This is a little tame. Are you well?”

He pressed a closed fist to his lips, clearly holding some retort back. His liege’s moods had been strange lately, but he’d chalked it up to the effects of the short war they had recently exited. “Anything I say now feels like I’ll just sink deeper into whatever trap you’re laying, Your Majest...”

“Who says it’s a trap. Maybe it’s an invitation.”

He looked at her, squinted. The smile she wore was a bit beyond flirtatious. Did she even know what she did to him? He didn’t dare expressing interest. She leaned a bit further forward, and the collar of her shirt shifted just enough for him to actually see a tiny flash of skin.

The monarch watched as her aide’s brain broke. “I suppose I need to spell it out. ‘C-O-U-R-T-M-E.’”

He hit the floor. Hard.

“Whoops… Maybe that was a little too forward after all. Why are men difficult?”

---

I know. I should have used this perfect opportunity to write my All Maudra doing from maudraing. I didn't. This is not set in any particular continuity. The challenge for July 8 was:

Element 1: Write a story centered around royalty.

Element 2: Roll a six-sided die. Can’t roll a physical one due to your location and/or lack of immediate access to one? No need to worry; we have digital dice too. The number you roll determines your protagonist’s station in the royal family as per the following list:

1-2: The ruling monarch (e.g. king or queen)

3-4: The heir to the throne (e.g. crown prince or crown princess)

5-6: The heir next in line for the throne after the above heir (e.g. the lastborn child of the ruling monarch)

Optional element: Make a servant of the royal family a pivotal character in your story.

Posted to all the usual mirrors

“Behold! Life Giver, I have produced nourishment!” Jubilant crowing rose from the kitchen.

She turned at her desk to sweep her eyes over her teenage daughter, well ensconced in her goth phase. Oven-mitted hands clutched the rice, broccoli, and cheese casserole. “Smells good, elder spawn.”

The smile on her child’s face made the silly exchange worth it.

“I used Grandma’s recipe. I think I got it this time.” The black lace at her chest swelled with pride. Shoulders pulled back. Even better, the gaze that met her mother’s eyes was once again confident.

“Let’s try it then. I can see how much work you’ve put into it. Do you remember Grandma’s secret ingredient, Edel?”

“Love, or the shredded Gouda?” Edel giggled.

There it was, the tinkling sound Nora had missed for so long. Her daughter was actively blooming again after the events that had clipped her wings and rendered her flightless. She adjusted her wings to avoid stepping on her own, then rose and swept over to wrap her arms around her daughter. “Both. Both, my little chick. I’m so proud of you.”

Edel minced her way to the table and placed her creation to on the trivet. “I miss you, Life Giver’s Life Giver. I love you Grandma.” She dished up three servings. Edel placed a portion at the empty chair where a picture of her grandmother sat, Mavis in front of her favorite diner. Her semi was in the frame, decorated with the holiday lights she put up every year. It was the most recent they had of her, taken just the day before the snowstorm that took her and six other trucks out on their gift delivery run. She picked it up and kissed it. “You went out a hero, even if those Toys for Tots didn’t get to the center.

Nora bit her lip. “She’s proud of you. If you hadn’t been there that day...”

“I know. The other five would have frozen before help could have responded. It still hurts, Mom, but I’m glad I was able to be with her on her last run. Last in more than one way.”

Nora nodded. “She’s a full angel now. Now we just keep trucking until we’re called home too.” She took a bite of her serving. “Mmmm, just like she used to make. It tastes of love and Gouda.”

Also on my Patreon, Tumblr, DeviantArt, and Livejournal

---

Once again the kitchen was empty of coffee. The gnome watched her over the last dregs, swallowing even the grounds at the bottom of his borrowed mug.

“’Bout time you woke up, young’n. We need to have a serious chat about the muck you’re bringing in this house. I can’t let it go on.”

“Are you a house Brownie? I know I need to tidy a little more forcefully, but I plan to catch up after I’ve got this project done.”

“Your painting? Child, I’m not talking about your art mess, or your forgetting to wash up after supper. You do that when you’ve made breakfast. No, I’m talking about this crap.” He held up the empty can, shaking it. “It’s basically ground poop. If you want poop coffee, at least treat yourself right and spring for the Kopi Luwak, not something that’s had the soul processed out.”

“You’ve stolen my coffee every morning because it’s the cheap stuff? It’s all I can afford! If you keep stealing it I may as well get the cheap stuff if I’m not even going to get more than the one cup when I bring it home.”

“You get yourself something halfway decent, then I won’t have to dispose of it, will I?”

She sputtered, unable to argue with that. “How’d you even get in?”

“Always been here, since before they built it. I’m a gnome, not a Brownie, by the way. Shame they don’t tell the stories anymore.” He smiled mysteriously.

Catchup post. Also on my Patreon, DeviantArt, and Tumblr. Going to Livejournal next.

---

The elderly druid stood above the kingdom watching from the tor. Changes were coming, he knew, but he had little faith that what actually was going to happen would be what was recorded in history. People had a frustrating way of remembering only what they wanted and rarely what they needed to. He thought to himself. “As long as they get the lesson, I suppose. And yet, I wish...”

Swords clashed on the battlefield. “This is stupid.” Myrddin muttered as he ducked behind a rock. “I’m never going to find anyone worthy at his rate.”

A whistle caught his attention and turned to meet it, swinging his staff to deflect it. A vial of one of the mysterious substances he had been studying shattered, igniting with the heat of the impact and sending a now flaming stone back.

The fortuitous accident had inflated his name, or a version of it. The problem was that now he was constantly bothered for miracles beyond his power. Fireballs, when armed with the right substance were easy to produce. Love spells though?

“This is going to backfire so badly… Not enough to just find a wife. I can already see she will be his downfall… She will still stray. He, too”

---

Written in answer to July 5th's challenge of a 369er (3 related 69 word stories) relating to the evolution of a real or fictional myth. Here I'm following Merlin, and attributing to him the discovery of the fireball to boot.

Today's flash fiction is set in my Dragon Shaman book continuity. It has been a long time since I've given Ryu and BlowingWind some attention. Posted also to my Patreon, Deviant art, Livejournal, and Tumblr.

---

Hands covered her eyes as she reached in the drawer for a fresh shirt. She sighed deeply. “Really? Before I’ve had coffee Ryu?” BlowingWind stomped on where she expected his foot to be. Volcano dragon kami or not, he knew better by now.
She missed. Ryu danced his foot out of the way and kissed the back of her neck before stepping back. BlowingWind whirled around to glare at him blearily through half-focused blue orbs. Considering her severe bed head that made her currently unbraided hair look even more fiery than usual, her rumpled pajamas, and the slight weave as she attempted to stay standing… she wasn’t very intimidating. Yet. It was hard not to tease his multicultural shamaness though.
“You’re adorable when you’re angry. Can’t help it.” He put on the smile that sometimes worked on her.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared harder. This morning his dark hair and eyes did nothing to soften her. More coffee than her norm might be called for already if this was how the day was starting. “Do you WANT your bacon when I get to making breakfast?”
“Um. Yes. I do so look forward to when it’s your turn to cook...” He said. He may have been in his human guise but he could feel his whiskers curling at her unspoken threat. “Preferably without a frying pan meeting my head. How about I make you your coffee. You seem… to need it a little more than usual.”
“You think? It’s your fault too.”
“You didn’t complain last night...”
She threw the shirt at him. It unfurled just right to explode all over his face. Ryu wisely retired to the kitchen. He could wait a little longer. Perhaps he did miscalculate slightly. Her dragon blood may have been mere traces but she definitely still had a fitting temper without human juice.

In this I return for a very short comical sojuring into my Selkies' Skins universe. This is set sometimes during the group's early tenure as professors at their alma mater. Is it early in Kirsty's pregnancy? Maybe?
Also posted at my Livejournal, DeviantArt, Tumblr, and Patreon. I need to catch the publishing blog up with the month's push.

---

Kirsty stood with her legs apart, hands on her hips, glaring at the portal in front of her. Or more accurately, it was supposed to be a portal. In reality, at least for her, it was more like a black condom stretched over a person sized rounded door frame.

“Ally, Thomas. You guys have got to be joking. WHAT DID YOU THREE DO?” Her fiery braids were starting to frizz with static electricity as she folded her arms, glaring through currently storm-sea-blue eyes.

“Not a thing other than casting it. You saw David pass through just fine.” Thomas widened his brown eyes and smiled. The wind tousled his blond hair.

“Why would we mess with the portal when we want to show you something?” Ally reasoned, patting the air. Her amber eyes held none of the mischief Kirsty might have expected. Ally’s own red hair rested lightly, only moving in the wind and not reacting to any sort of energetic buildup.

David came back through the portal, his black robes contrasting starkly with his ice-blue eyes and the long white hair he had tied behind him. “Is something wrong? It has been some time and none of you came through. I think I saw Kirsty bounce a few times? Possibly punch something?” He looked his wife over.

Kirsty threw up her hands and adjusted the sealskin hanging from her shoulders she kept disguised as a simple lamb cloak. “I cannot use that,” She pointed accusing at the portal lurking behind him. “It’s rejecting me or something.”

“Odd. It works just fine for me.” David frowned, then took a few steps closer to her. “It’s a rather nice glade with an interesting stone. I can’t read it, though. It looks like what your book is in.”

“She should be able to go through just fine. Let’s see.” Thomas walked through, waited a moment, and then returned to them. “No issues.”

Ally tried next and similarly met with no difficulty.

“Maybe she ought to hold your hand?” Thomas mused. I’m not sure why it would reject her.”

“Rather embarrassing that I appear to be the one out of four institution professors that can’t use this door.” Kirsty grumbled wryly. “I don’t mind trying that, though.”

“We could. I have no reason to not want to hold your hand.” David smiled at Kirsty.

Kirsty blushed and looked down.

“Been a few years and that still happens randomly.” Thomas smirked. “Good thing our students learn quickly that David won’t tolerate any students teasing Professor Blushy.”

Kirsty snorted. “I think you’re forgetting I don’t tolerate it from students either.”

David shook his head, then squeezed her hand. “Let’s go, Kirsty. I like seeing you blush, though.”

Kirsty blushed deeper but attempted to follow him through, only for the both of them to bounce off the membrane. A comical “bloop,” resounded and multicolor ripples flickered over it before smoothing again to darkness. She sighed. “Maybe I’m not supposed to go yet? Or some spirit there has a problem with Mara or The Lady? Maybe something one of The Lady’s fragments did put all her priestesses on a blacklist.”

“Possible. I don’t have to go if you can’t.” David squeezed again.

“Or maybe you could take a rubbing for me.” Kirsty sighed.

“We’ll be away from the grounds. Phones and cameras might work there. We can try to get you some footage.”

“Or perhaps Ally might be able to get any spirits convinced you can be allowed… I’m not sure if any would interact with me.” David mused.

Kirsty kissed his nose. “Go ahead. I want to see, and if you can get a rubbing of those runes, maybe it will be something useful, or even explanatory.”

David nodded. “I’d rather have you with me, though.”

“Me too. Go ahead. Enjoy the fieldwork, maybe you’ll even find something useful to you too, Professor.”

Something in the way she said the title brought color to his pale face. David looked away while Thomas laughed.

“Alright then, we’ll go do some fieldwork for your research.” Thomas slipped through the portal. David followed after one last squeeze.

Kirsty settled herself down to wait, placing a hand on her stomach to settle it while she waited for the others. While she waited, she made an entry in her field journal and chewed a little ginger. The warm sun soothed her into another gentle nap, something that had become puzzlingly common the past few weeks.

---

In other news I am at 3/4 through "The Other Workers of Santa Claus" by Alexander Saunders in the current editing pass. Steps remaining will be a final proofread after the typesetting for both print and ebook layout, and the cover art.

“I’m too tired to make up scripture right now!” He sagged into a pile of cushions that had been left by some of the day’s postulants.

The guard shifted uneasily, his purple chitin armor glinting in the light of the suns that filtered into the castle through the ceiling aperture. “What should I tell them, then?” The old gelfling scowled. “Does anyone have anything to give the crystal? If it’s another bunch of freeloaders expecting handouts just send them away.”

“Sir!” heels clicked, then marched off after uneasy eyes darted to where the Light-keepers slumbered in their thrones.

The Crystal Eminence sighed, rubbed his eyes. “It’s not like I know why they fell asleep. There’s that old pair of Gardeners I hear tell of in one of the Ancient Cities who are older than them, and that Maudra is still a heretical meddler with too much energy. At least her husband is too preoccupied with his arcane tasks. I’m in trouble if word of this reaches them...” He looked to where the Light-keepers lay in their aging splendor.

They weren’t that old. He even had personal knowledge of grannies older than them who still chased fizzgig off with their brooms. “Distribute the offerings to those in need… indeed… such folly. That only teaches them to beg. Besides, all things rely on an exchange.” He grumbled and stroked the soft fabric possessively. “This is an opportunity though. With them asleep, all these eyes turn to me for wisdom. If I do this right then when they finally fade away there will be only me. I will lead the way.” He mused to the crystal that floated in the middle of the chamber.

The crystal listened, watched. It’s children had to be allowed their own choices. High in her tower, where the true mouth of the planet sat in meditation, an old face, half male and half female, frowned. “So… a new pocket of Darkening. Can’t win them all. Bound to happen where it all began anyway. Have to wait and see. Too far for these old bones to go get them, even using the fast way. But you, little one...” Aughra opened her eye and looked at the tumbeloth grooming its tentacles beside her. “You lot once helped urVa’s apprentice rescue the Waystar’s seed and those prisoners. You’re troublemakers by nature with your chaos. You might keep an eye on him and see about getting word to your little friend off in Shelna. Seems I could use a good pair of Gardeners. Confirm for me the visions the All Maudra will begin receiving. Probably can’t do anything here, but she can work on other things that will be needed.”

The tumbeloth pulled his tentacles back into his stony shell and tilted his head. He smiled slowly. “So, now we have your express permission to mess with him properly?”

“Yes, yes. Do what you little ones do best.” She waved an exasperated hand and turned away, groaning as she labored to get up.

The tumbeloth waddled off to seek his brethren. It was time to lay some plans, and perhaps some more dung bombs.

I actually intended to use the prompt “I’m too tired to make up scripture right now!” provided to the FFM2025 prompt bank by the awesome and always fun @WizardandGalaxy (at least I think it's the same one I'm thinking of) as the seed for a Selkies' Skins universe flashfiction.

I ended up with a Dark Crystal Age of Power era AU fanfic because I've been thinking of that franchise so much lately and because I REALLY hate the Crystal Eminence in the comics. There had to be something at the core of animosity between tumbeloths and that guy, right?

Ok, maybe not.

Next one I do I really need to make sure I get back to Selkies' Skins stuff. Or maybe some Dragon Shaman... I don't know. Three different series that I'm lucky the characters aren't real and can't attack me to get me back to working on...

Originally posted: https://www.deviantart.com/amehanarainstardrago/art/1213784157

Bobbing in the bay she could see Sifan and Vapran refugee ships, only able to harbor at docks or further out due to preparatory labor from an offshoot race, the Marelings. They restored the entry of the sleeping former capital.
The Lunar Temple at the gates of the ancestral palace enfolded her welcomingly. The hole she’d fallen into as a child was still there, and so too her father’s impromptu rope. Those braids had weathered the trine surprisingly well. On the other hand… Drenchen hair was famous for its durability. She touched her own braids, blazing Sifan red fragmented stories said came to them via a child born of the Rose Sun and San, the Hidden Moon. Perhaps one day she’d find more details of the fosterling that had birthed the gelfling who became the original Sifan Maudra.
Her tail swished and flared its fins as her thoughts wandered. Sometimes, to her embarrassment, it seemed to have a mind of its own. This time it brushed Alarii’s. Merfid still didn’t quite grok how they’d gained these adaptations. His had come while he obtained the seed from Oszah-Staba, the Wellspring Tree. Hers began growing after she’d fallen into something she suspected now was the Pool of Tears in Mithra on her way to enlist aid from the Firelings, calling on ancient treaties she’d only learned of through luck.
“All-Maudra?”
She looked at Alarii, the gentle Mystic’s smile she often teased him about rarely truly left his face. It was there now, but the soft concern in his eyes melted her before she could needle him. “It did it on it’s own.”
“Right.” He said, waiting for her real thoughts. His muski, Aaru, chirped her version of, “Right,” after him.
She smiled. Aaru did so love to be part of any conversation. “Thinking, that’s all.”
He hummed softly.
Her Drenchen archer often made her laugh without trying. She was glad that things were no longer as awkward between them as when she first laid eyes on him in that tavern in Duppington and Knew he was the one. She never called him her Apeknot to his face, far too embarrassing, but he was far stronger than his scrawny and now bowed physical frame led observers to believe. She loved that about him, his steadiness. His quiet presence made her feel full and blossom in fiery, windy, fluttery ways she’d probably never fully understand.
“I think I should wake the city. There are gelflings to live here again. No longer sleeping.” She mused, following the same pull that had led her to him, to the seeds, her true self and her appointed destiny. She laid a hand over the tree shaped birthmark on her arm just below where the cuff of the last maudra of the Lost Island, regained from its keeper in one of the royal families of Mithra, rode her upper arm to remind her of all the history lost to those ancient wars that had shaped the Sifa into what the urskeks and later the skeksis had found them as. Maybe, after the Darkening the the Replanting were dealt with Mother Aughra might see fit to help her try to reclaim what ghosts the Lost Countries had left behind.
“You keep calling them that.” Alarii said, looking around for the spirits of urVa and skekMal, the remnants of the urskek that had joined them on their journey. He sighed. Who knew where they were off to at the moment? He didn’t. They, like others, came and went.
“Because they do.” Merfid smiled and leaned on the walking stick her grandfather had carved her long ago, graven with ancient Sifan and Drenchen symbols meant to help her in her growth. “They have a very different feel than the main cities we’ve met around the Great Trees?”
“I suppose...” He said carefully. He may have bonded with her but he’d probably never ever fully understand the paths of her mind. “Sifa stuff?”
She laughed at the shared joke. “Sifa stuff.” She said warmly. Merfid touched the Stonewood emblem on her clothes. Ending up as the Stonewood Maudra by vote after their deeds in the Deep Forest and then All-Maudra after being attacked by what she considered a rogue swarm of lunamoths with the remnant of the Living Crown after landing in Ha’rar qualified. Anything unexplainable or strange their little group collectively labelled “Sifa Stuff,” thanks to him.
“Are you doing something that might make me concerned?” Alarii asked.
“Maybe...” She looked down at the worn stone in the center of a dais. “This looks a bit performative...” Merfid looked around again, finding herself where she’d consider center stage. “I feel like more than coronations happened in this particular spot. I can probably be seen by anyone down at the foot of the road by the docks even though we’re waaaaay up here, up the rise.”
“Probably.” He frowned slightly, then sighed. “Uh?”
Merfid’s eyes had taken on the green-blue glow he’d gotten used to observing whenever Thra took hold of her. She unsheathed the small dagger she wore on one of her belts next to San’s Blade. She tilted her head slightly as she listened and watched. As she became lost in whatever vision she was being shown his hands itched. A familiar urge to go touch the indentation in the platform tugged his hands, but something inside the still locked gates of the palace tugged harder. He’d wait, he could only use that gift once a day, and they still had yet to investigate the thing here that was to help urVa and skekMal. For now she was safe.
“Oh, that’s how it works. That’s some weird spiritual technology.” Merfid cut her left palm deftly and mashed her hand into the hand-shaped indent before he could do anything.
Aaru squawked. Alarii reached for her. “Merfid! What are you doing!?”
“Connecting Past, Present, and Future.” She said nonchalantly as the blue vliyaya streamed out through the city in swirls. Crystals, tucked away in strategic places through the city began to light in sequence while the water flowing through the channels that provided its running water filled, flowed, and took on life.
“You cut yourself. Why?” She rarely annoyed him, but he was very definitely unhappy she’d intentionally hurt herself.
She flicked her wings then stood after she was certain it was done. “I heal.” She smiled at him, trying to hide the fact that her hand stung. The line of blood in the indent was rapidly disappearing. “What it does with my blood… is none of my business.”
“All Maudra!” He took her hand, looking it over. “Don’t do that again.” With a frustrated sigh he began cleaning her up.
“Sorry, Dear.”
“You’re going to do it again somewhere, aren’t you?”
“Probably.” She said mildly.
Alarii grumbled. Aaru reprimanded Merfid loudly. He couldn’t help his irritation leaking through their bond with either.
Alarii eyed her after finishing. He couldn’t smile, not right now, but he did stroke an uninjured part of her callused and scarred hand in reply.This is the version of Wake the City that I submitted for Flash Fiction Month. The longer story is only available to my mate and to Patrons on Patreon. This is only A version of what might happen for these scene. Merfid's well aware she's operating within possible timelines and sometimes forsees different versions of events.

---

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August 2026

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Amehana's Workdesk AKA Teresa Garcia's Workspace

Current Projects: Selkies' Skins and Dragon Shaman

Recent Entries

Sticky: The Ubiquitous Sticky Note on the Monitor!

How Lemon Found His Name (A Selkies' Skins short story or wavelet)

Friday Night Market, The Podling's Tavern, and so forth

FFM #30: Surfside Bombardment

FFM #6: The Oaken Glade

FFM #5 2026: All Before Her Tea

FFM #4 2026: The Sisters of the Trumping Silences and the Trump of Completion

FFM #3 2026: Interrupted Sleep

FFM #2 2026: Church of Cats