Tag: Culture (Greek)

Book Review: Wicked Satyr Nights

Erin Penn

Book Cover from Amazon

Wicked Satyr Nights by Rebekah Lewis

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON

Some creatures want to be found.

When Dr. Katerina Silverton travels into the Pine Barrens to make a documentary on the Jersey Devil, she doesn’t believe she will uncover any supernatural evidence. In fact, she only takes the job because it promises funding for future projects. So it is quite a shock to Kat when she finds herself face-to-face with the legendary beast she was sent into the forest to capture on film.

In ancient Greece, the god Pan made a terrible mistake which resulted in the creation of the Satyroi: a race of immortal satyrs. Centuries later, he lives secluded in the Pine Barrens, frightening mortals by taking the guise of an abhorrent local monster. When a beautiful woman shows up in his forest looking for proof of his existence, Pan can’t resist revealing himself to her.

Outside forces may be manipulating them both, pushing them together for nefarious reasons. Kat must decide if she could learn to love a satyr or if his appearance is more than she can handle. Can she resist Pan’s wicked nature, or will she give into the temptations beyond her wildest fantasies?

 

MY REVIEW

First off, I did a lot of growing up in New Jersey and camping in the Pine Barrens. I am well familiar with the Jersey Devil story and Ms. Lewis does justice to the folklore.

And combining it with Pan and Satyrs is pure awesome-sauce. Wow, the dovetail of the mythology with the folklore is great. Awesome, awesome worldbuilding.

Story only gets 4.5 stars because of some character inconsistencies early in the book. The longer the story goes, the stronger the characters and the conspiracy gets. In the first couple of chapters, some of the character descriptions are noticeably repeated and should have been removed or reduced by a line editor. (May have been fixed in later editions. The author self-published the book after getting her rights back.)

But as the story goes on, as mentioned, the characters get better. Everyone is far from one-dimensional and has multiple motivations. Kat, the main female protagonist, is awesome, both girly enough to want to shave her legs and butch enough to walk off a cougar taking a chunk out of one. She wants money to do research but realizes earning the money may mean no one will take her research seriously. Pan alternates between making good quick decisions and poor ones; thinking on one’s feet (or hooves) does not make every decision work. Every character has deep flaws worthy of a Greek tragedy waiting to happen, or one that already has. 

No one is truly an angel in the story, nor is the villain a complete devil. Dion faces a situation where his parents and family moved without giving him the forwarding address; his reaction is poor, but a person can understand how screwed up you would be if all your brothers, sisters, and parents just cut you off without explanation.

Don’t know if Ms. Lewis can keep this level of characters and worldbuilding going for the rest of the series, but book one worth the read if you like paranormal romance.

Flash: Dorian and the Ice Queen

Erin Penn

freedigitalphotos.net

Rating: Mature

That ass, damn girl. Dorian didn’t mind the cold or wait at all as the female bent over once again, rearranging the unlit lanterns just so in the snow. Maybe he shouldn’t be admiring her, or maybe because she was a supervillain, objectifying her isn’t as immoral as, say, Jameeka in Human Resources. Either way the Ice Queen had one of the finest asses in the state. Perfect heart shape.

He had been a little disappointed when he first arrived to find she wasn’t wearing the impractical catsuit and high heels costume. But the tight white skiing pants, turtleneck sweater, quilted jacket, and fur-lined cap made a fine substitute, at least according his libido. Especially when she bent over, and she had been bending over a lot in the last half an hour. A couple of steps in one direction in the snow in knee-high boots, adjusting something, sometimes burying something, sometimes removing debris, and then she would be moving again. She had said to arrive around midnight, more or less, but not to bother if he was later than one. And not to bother her if she was already there.

Guess she figured I would scope out the area. It’s not like they trusted each other – villain to hero. But that didn’t make the lust go away. She bent forward again and he bit his tongue to keep from moaning. He imagined grabbing that fine white Ice Queen ass, the soft moon-pale flesh slightly red on either cheek after his broad hands had warmed them up with a couple of smacks for being bad. The woman was always bad. Maybe even handcuffs, if he had them. Then she look over her shoulder, her ash-blonde hair in a failing braid like it is now, wisps and stray tresses framing her ice-blue eyes, and say…

 “I’m ready for you now.”

 Her voice soft and husky from effort.

 “Hey Revenger, alley-alley-alley-out.” The Ice Queen stood brushing the snow off her white leather gloves, clapping them. “You can come now.”

 Come, she said come…not…cum. Dorian shook his head to clear out the last of the fantasy. He nearly missed the snow falling from the gloves, hover in the moonlight, take on the sparkle of new snow, and fly in a dozen directions. Before he had dropped from the tree where he was hiding, every step, footprint, handprint, and symbol she had made was erased.

 So much for his theory, based on the lack of snow tracks when he had initially arrived, that she had flown in. He was positive she was a flyer, but no one had ever recorded it. The agency records were woefully blank on her abilities, as they are on any unregistered hero or uncaptured villain, some temperature control at the cold end of the spectrum, possible telekinesis abilities, and, unproven, magic. Magic itself being unproven. So far everyone had tested psychic, technological, or natural mutant.

 Her file was nearly as slim on suspected crimes. He had written most of the entries himself and none of them had enough evidence for a legal arrest warrant, let alone a court conviction. Plenty of photos thanks to her saving his bacon when King Khaos attacked the museum, but no real information. Street thugs were silent about her.

 (words 545; first published 8/18/19)

Flash: Bumping into Dorian

Erin Penn

freedigitalphotos.net

 

I recognized him. Oh god, why did I have to bump into him? “I’m so sorry.” I dropped my eyes as he steadied me by holding my shoulders.

 

At six foot and a bit, he stood out even more for his perfect build, great abs, wide shoulders, tapered waist, strong legs, and great abs. Did I mention great abs? I was staring at them right now through the thin layer of cotton of his shirt. I could do my wash on those abs. My hand wash. All day. My hands all day on those abs. Wow, what a suit of Teflon armor will hide.

 

“It’s all right.” He smiled down. I felt the smile. Never thought the Revenger could smile, especially at me, the Ice Queen. “The museum is crowded today with the opening.”

 

I wanted to look up and smile back. Smile into those green eyes I glimpsed for just a second. Eyes normally hid by red goggles, at least any time our paths crossed before. A part of me really wanted to look back up into those eyes and drown in them.

 

Not good, not good, not good at all.

 

His hands slipped down a bit, just past the capped sleeves of my summer dress as he pushed me back a step, touching my flesh, before he dropped them all together. Electric shocks went through me and I caught a name, the name he thought of himself by. Just like my mother said would happen.

 

So not good.

 

Dorian. I really like the name. It suits him.

 

“Thanks.” I said, keeping my blue eyes firmly on his perfect, mouth-watering abs. Meeting his eyes right now would be beyond not good.

 

I still had bruises from our battle last week. Well, skirmish. Okay, he tossed me through a window to get at the Overbearer and I flew away like bat out of hell once I was outside the building. But, I had bruises, big purple, green, and yellow ones.

 

I, for one, am not build for hand-to-hand. At five foot flat footed, five-six in the ridiculous heels I wear with my barely there fur, crystals, and silver chain mail outfit, I don’t have a chance … physically … against someone like the Revenger. One of the reason I am not a costumed hero.

 

Magically, psychically, I can go toe-to-toe with the best. With a great deal of preparation.

 

I hide the psychic part. Just like the layer of skin-tight white silk covering every inch of me under the fur and simulated diamonds hides my skin from the casual brushes when my psych is at full throttle. I limit the magic to just cold and water magic. At least all overt magic. Most think I just have a ice machine tucked in somewhere; best speculation by the press was the boobs were fake, disguising the power pack. My twins aren’t fake. But I ain’t telling. I ain’t telling about the magic or mind reading either.

 

A girl has to keep her secrets.

 

Especially from a hero like the Revenger.

 

Secrets that should not come between soul mates.

 

Oh, this is so not good.

 

The abs moved away from my sight. I swallow hard before going back to pickpocketing my way through the crowd, getting this week’s spending cash. Once I had enough wallets tucked into my roaring twenties style clutch purse, beaded of course, which was much bigger on the inside thanks to a little dimensional folding, I debated cutting my losses rather than run into the Revenger again, Dorian again. He of the green eyes to drown in and the abs for my hand wash.

 

But I had actually come to the museum to see the new exhibit, ancient Russia glass. I love historic pieces, especially glass, which carried special magics I could tap into. Covering the week’s grocery and light bill was only a bonus.

 

Just one pass through the special exhibit hall. Who knows when I will have another chance.


(words 663; first published 4/9/14; republished new blog format 8/11/19)

Flash: Sisyphus Duties

Erin Penn

From Unsplash: Boulder Photo by Peter Gonzalez (unsplash link no longer available) / Woman Photo by terricks noah
Cropped and merged by Erin Penn

All she had to do was push the stone to the top of the hill just once before sunset. Once. Some days she nearly made it by inches, some days she only got half-way.

Today she didn’t even try. Just standing took all her strength. She leaned against her nemesis, the boulder, slapping it a couple of times like a good dog by her side.

Exhaustion.

Back before this mission, an eternity ago, she had similar missions. Get through this pile of paperwork. Pay the rent again. Take care of the student loan. Put food on the table. Smile at the spouse. A spouse she never saw, rent for a home she never was in, a loan for an education she never used, food for children she couldn’t raise. All to push paperwork off her desk until it returned the next day. Phone call, computer files, interviews. Push, push, push.

As things went, pushing a boulder up the hill was a breeze. If she started now, she may make it about half-way. She shrugged, having found her millionth wind, and started pushing. She wasn’t sure if she was in hell or purgatory or still alive on earth. The boulder started moving for the day.

(Words 204; first published 6/16/19)

Flash: Thebe is Sultry (Attempt Four)

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

“Excellent pout,” the photographer explained. “Now go for sultry”.

Thebe tilted her head towards the camera, endeavoring to put steam behind her hazel eyes.  Feathers from the mask tickled her ears, chin and neck. They also brushed her generous breasts, the sensation tightening her nipples. Thebe’s eyes darted to the Master of Ceremonies, the lead Satyr for the Nymphs and Satyrs club. One of the few men in the world who could make her seem small and dainty. Her eyes drifted down to his most prominent feature.

Some of the women would be intimidated by what lay in his mass of curls. Thebe couldn’t wait to rub against it for the photoshoot.

“Sultry down!”

Thebe eyes darted back to the photographer.

“Now tempting. Come on my nympho. Tempt me. Make me want to be a satyr.”

(words 136 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 6/30/2013 for the 6/3/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; republished in new blog format 3/10/2019)

***

Blog comment on Flash: The flash did not want to be. After my fourth attempt, I have given up. The other 2,000 or so words give good background – Thebe in competing in  a contest hosted by Nymphs and Satyrs à la Big Brother (provided to viewers through an on-line subscription). I kept trying to find the point at which to begin this flash and have it end with Thebe wearing the big feathered mask – each story began later and later in the competition. I know the above is more like a scene than a flash, and actually only part of a scene. I’m giving up wrestling with this picture for now.

I only have 21 more Sunday Flash pictures from the old format for the Breathless Press blog. Sometime in November these will all be done. And end of an era.

Previous Thebe Flashes (dates provided are the republished dates): Thebe at Nymphs and Satyrs (12/18/16), Thebe gets her Nymph Mask (12/25/16), Thebe Fired (republished 3/3/19)