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Flash: Wind in Her Hair

Erin Penn 1 Comment

Photo by Candice Picard on Unsplash, cropped and colored by Erin Penn

The blonde tosses her hair as she walks out the cabin door so the seawind doesn’t grab it, hitting me in the face with her golden tresses. I wish I could say the effect is erotic with the scent of sunshine on lilacs or the feel of silk brushing my lips.

Actually, I will go with the feel of silk – spider silk. Black widow version.

Just like the poisonous bitch ahead of me. Too bad I can’t backstab her right now, but that would go badly since we will be docking in elfhome shortly. I slowly lift my hand to remove the strands. She barely tolerated being around a human being for the entirety of the journey; spitting in her hair wouldn’t go well but moving fast would go worse. Her reflexes are insane and any move within a certain range was treated like an attack.

Because of the chain around my waist, I am always within range.

(words 158; first published 5/19/2019)

Geeking Science: Symbiosis

Erin Penn

Red Saxifrage in Sardinia (look at the other rocks round the flowers for lichen)
Image courtesy of Phil_Bird at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Toby Spribille asked a question and went down a rabbit hole. “How closely related are two lichen growing in the same area that look like they have the same structure, but one is yellow and acidy-poison and the other a benign brown?” Obviously different species, since color and acid difference, but when did they split off of each other?

Except he found out he asked the wrong question. The question should have been “How do three separate DNA species create a symbolic relationship and within that relationship, sometimes they create acid?”

Because lichen were involved, everything got turned on its head.

Lichen has been doing that for a while.

In 1868, Simon Schwendener discovered lichen were composite organisms – fungus who had co-opted and shared life with some alga. (Fond, How a Guy…) Not a happy idea in a time where Darwin’s On the Origin of Species – only the strong survive – ruled. Why would two creatures need each other to survive? That’s just nonsense.

Other scientists tested Schwendener’s findings under the microscope. “You know, he isn’t wrong.” More testing and the concept of symbiosis was born in biology.

Humanity has since gone on and discovered nearly everything on this planet has some internal helpful flora and fauna hanging out. For example, the human microbiome in the digestive system from the stomach through both the small and large intestines is helpful, and gets really upset when antibiotics take out the good bacteria. (There is some debate about whether eating yogurt helps – the two major bacteria in yogurt get killed in the stomach acid long before arriving in the large intestines to help replace what modern medicine erased.)

Symbiosis has became the name of the game. And raises lots of questions for science fiction authors about if humanity goes to the stars, how long will them remain human when other planets start affecting the colonists microbiomes. 

Now lichen are rewriting things again. Instead of the clear structure of the fungus protecting the alga, there is a third party involved – at least proven by DNA testing in 2016 and reverified in 2019 through a second scientist for the same basic community of lichen.

Other scientists are looking into other lichen, and discovering similar things there. Previously the other fungus were ignored, because lichen were defined as a partnership of two – now, polyamory seems to be the rule for lichen.

That is another thing writers and editors should bring to the table when writing, and we often forget. Science isn’t about doing something wild and crazy in a one-off. It’s about a running tests over and over, building up knowledge. Testing already known information with new equipment. And, most important, peer review.

In genres with laser focus on a character or group of characters – like urban fantasy and science fiction, the network community of science is often downplayed.

But, like lichen, it takes more than one scientist to thrive.

Read more about the lichen discoveries below in the Bibliography.

Bibliography

Grens, Kerry. Not One, Not Two, But Three Fungi Present in Lichen. The Scientist. 2019 January 17. – last viewed 11/12/2019.

Yong, Ed. How a Guy From a Montana Trailer Park Overturned 150 Years of Biology. The Atlantic. 2016 July 21. https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2016/07/how-a-guy-from-a-montana-trailer-park-upturned-150-years-of-biology/491702/ – last viewed 11/12/2019.

Yong, Ed. The Overlooked Organisms The Keep Challenging Our Assumptions About Life. The Atlantic. 2019 January 17. https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2019/01/how-lichens-explain-and-re-explain-world/580681/ – Last viewed 11/12/2019.

Editing Rant: Belief Coins

Erin Penn 1 Comment

Image courtesy of iosphere at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Have I talked about Belief Coins before? I don’t remember – but let’s talk about it again since clearly some people aren’t getting the message.

Too many suspension of beliefs ruins a story. A writer gets only so many coins to play for suspension of belief.

Depending on the “store” you are shopping in, some of the suspension of beliefs are on discount. For example, in the romance genre you can have love-at-first-sight (Insta love), not needing to go into work, and easy adjustments over class divides. Science fiction offers faster-than-light travel and gun battles on space stations. Thrillers allow for traveling across the globe without problems with passports, inner city traffic rush hour can be easily bypassed on side roads, and people can go without sleep or food for days (they may sit down to eat, but it is always, always interrupted). Cozy mystery, the main character can interfere with police investigations without getting arrested. Erotica gets to getting it on quickly and friends support a sexual situation without questions. 

But those Belief Coins have to be earned for the breaks with reality. Everything else needs to work without a suspension of belief. A romance where the characters go without eating? A science fiction where friends support a Insta-love sexual situation without questions? A thriller with gun fights in the middle of rush hour and the police don’t respond? A cozy mystery where a space alien is the killer? You darn well better give the reason these things are happening. Yes, you can explain them, but you don’t get to wave a magic wand and make them disappear. If you have read romances, you know how many times a sex scene ends with – “you hungry?” (and a stomach growls).

Know the tropes of your genre – these are the discounted Belief Coins. When I sit down to a werewolf romance, I expect InstaLove of true mates when they scent each other. I don’t expect an Earth vampire to end up operating a spacecraft in the middle of an alien-attacks science fiction story.

A recent erotica I read had the follow items needed for Belief Coins: two men love the same women and don’t have a problem with each other (discount coin); insta-sex (discount coin); rich men relationship with poorer women no problem for any of the parties (discount coin). Three coins is a lot, but doable, especially with the erotica branch of romances.

Things that broke the bank: (1) inter-racial. Normally this is okay since the cover advertised it. But the racial factors were ignored entirely – the two (very rich) men going after a black woman, never mentioned her color except once. Her skin color made no impact on the story. The genre of inter-racial romance still requires some sort of acknowledgement of overcoming – even the erotica version. Fetishizing the difference is one branch in the erotica tree; another branch is just acknowledging people of all colors can love each other. But in either case, it is integral to a inter-racial romance. (2) rich level. The men drop $2 million dollars without blinking. While their jobs of hotel architecture rakes in some money, it doesn’t do it at that level. Owning the hotels, sure, but not the working folk making them – even the white collar jobs.

And that last one is what really broke the bank. Their job did not match their wealth levels. Both of the men had “come from normal beginnings” and just got lucky with their jobs – by their mid-twenties. Nope – thrown out of the story. If one had come from money, okay, but not normal guys still working their way up in the world.

(Fact Check: Just looked up the window of salaries for architects – about $50,000 to $150,000 per year in 2019 with the average about $90,000. To drop $2 million without blinking, I’m thinking a person needs to have at least $50 million in the bank. Or an income of around $20 million a year.)

Even eroticas need a foot in reality. Even wizards, aliens, vampires, super spies, viking kings, and dragons need to be real in some manner.

Spend those coins wisely.

Flash: Docility

Erin Penn

Photo from freedigitalphotos.net

Rating: Mature

Staring at the horizon, Giorgio sunk onto the heated rock he had scaled. Dry, scentless air needled his tongue as he inhaled. Desolate desert and cloudless sky revealed no life but his own, barring a few reptiles bathing in the sun. His abandoned sedan remained below, the sole tie to humanity and civilization in the vacant vista. Its tan color only delayed conversion into an oven. The forsaken landscape ripped from his mind the meaningless thoughts of his tedious job and tiresome acquaintances, the irksome bills and insipid conversation which ruled his mundane activities.

The top was the perfect break point. A transition between civilized docility and feral reality.

The world was laid out at his feet. He could see everything, know everyone, … defeat anyone.

The return trek from the ravine over the high rocks was never as gratifying. Trite deadlines always dragged him away. He admitted to himself, he loitered. Prolonging his time with her until the last possible second. Fortunately, verifying his surrounding was only essential going in.  

Confident no one had followed him, the man shouldered his pack. Some rubble ricocheted down the steep trail as he stood. He slapped his hands together removing the grit embedded in his skin. Blinking against the unforgiving sun, one last survey assured Giorgio. He could go to the secret place.

The twisted path touted no breezes and soon Giorgio’s bangs dropped stinging sweat into his eyes. The ravine floor was in perpetual shade unless the sun hovered overhead like a nun with a ruler during parochial school. Being close to eleven during daylight savings, the Solar Goddess was beating the ravine unmercifully. Later, the north-south ravine would huddle in sacred shade and lick its wounds, waiting for the forgiving Moon to come alive.

For now, Giorgio trudged from overhang to overhang, robbing seconds of shade for the local denizens. His linen shirt adhered to his back. The hike from the only safe decent into the ravine to his secret place exceeded four miles. Recreational tourists gave up long before where his end-goal was located. The trek was worth keeping her secure.

A rockfall disguised the seam in the ravine walls. Not visible from either direction now, Giorgio had discovered the cave as a youth. Spring rains had tumbled the beneficial camouflage sometime between his youthful ranges and his adult hunts. He would never have found it again without the blazes he had left. Once again he thanked his youthful self for forethought.

He leaped over three loose rocks in the path. A quick glance verified a similar telltale on the other side had not moved either. Sniffing the air revealed no lingering smell of smoke or other alien scents. Satisfied no one had visited, Giorgio removed his pack and sidestepped down the seam.

Two switchbacks later, the narrow passage opened into a cave slightly larger than his college efficiency. How he wished he could offer her a palace, or at least the house his seven-figure income allowed him now. But until she learned, until she was under control, the cave was the only safe place for her.

A series of mirrors brought in outside light, revealing a chained naked woman. The gouged ground marked the limits of her tether, just a foot shy of the entrance. Her wrists were bruised and bloodied from the manacles. A blonde tuff of hair covered her private area, matching the massive golden curls covering her torso. Her hair flowed over generous breasts, past her slim waist. Pale skin lent an air of frailty.

She had bathed. Just for him. Using her precious water. Something she had started to do since summer began. She knew he liked her clean.

The bottles of water were lined up against the wall. Seven empties, three still filled, and two others with urine. Again something his clever girl had started of her own violation. The smell in the cave had improved considerably.

The woman watched him hungrily as he changed out her empties for new water from his pack. He carefully laid out seven new packages of food, confident she had the disciple to open only one per day. Giorgio wished he could visit her more than weekly, but each visit brought a risk of revealing her before she was ready.

He heard the chains clink as the woman approached. She lightly touched his shoulder. Good, she was becoming better. When he first brought her here, she threw herself at him – all nails and teeth. She had no control, was barely more than an animal.

Turning, Giorgio smiled as she tucked her head until it nearly touched dirt. She no longer played dominance games with him. Staring contests had required him to beat her. He dared not give an inch for her sake as well as his.

“Sir, I am happy you are here.” A soft soprano offered.

Her voice danced along his nerves, hardening his dick. Goddess, how he wanted her.

 How he needed her.

From the first moment he saw her, he knew he had make her his despite the danger. He couldn’t bring himself to offer her a choice. Giorgio knew he couldn’t handle it if she said no. He had to have her. She was still a little upset he had forced her. Taken away her choice. But she was coming around.

She wanted him. He smelled her musk as her pussy readied for him.

He lifted her chin, words landing on her lips before he claimed her mouth. “As am I, Tala, as am I.”

***

He left regretfully as the cave grew gloomy hours later. The sun no longer bounced into the cave indicating it was past time he left.

He did not want to leave her in the cave, so far from him. Having her beside him would make civilization’s inanity bearable. But she wasn’t ready.

She still didn’t understand the limits. He could not bring her back to the city until she did.

Her passion during their mating was all he had hoped for from the moment he first decided to claim her.  Nearly made him think she understood; she could be safe if he brought her back to his house.

But then she asked him not to chain her ankles before he left. That told him she still wasn’t ready.

He quickly climbed over the rock, pausing only a moment to watch the pregnant moon rise. Two more days until the full moon. Seven moons since he had bit her. Tala had to know by now the wrist manacles where not strong enough hold her wolf form.

(words  1,098 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/5/2013 for the 8/26/12 Sunday Fun; republished new blog format 5/12/2019)