Salmon

The boy, eyes wide with curiosity, watched the eagle soar, wings outstretched to catch the upper currents. Gliding downward, it skimmed the water and then arced upward.

Pinions pressing against calm air, carried it toward clouds and morning blue. It hovered, attention riveted, then swooped.

Legs extended, its talons penetrated the surface. Wings strained to lift it skyward. A shimmer of silver crested above the rippling wavelets. A thrashing fight frothed water and blood to pink. The eagle screeched and fought. One last flip freed the salmon to dive beneath the sea.

On shore the boy clapped. “Go, fish! Go!”


I published this Drabble at www.BookHippo.uk on March 26, 2016

Six Year Anniversary

Six years ago, July 2011, DiMensioner's Revenge was first released. Here is a link to an interview I did then as a guest at the writers' blog Blood-Red Pencil.

Time sure has flown! And the UnFolding Series has taken on a life of its own as the first book has grown into four novels and eleven companion shorts (totaling over 2,000 pages). Sometimes to see where one is it is good to pause and look back to see where one was.

Feeding Whales

The commercial fishing boats are returning. The energy on the dock returns to its vibrant state as they arrive one after another. At first a boat has little impact on the energy, everyone on board is beat, bone tired after days and nights harvesting the ocean. Then they recover and get to work cleaning, repairing and preparing the boat for the next trip. The good news is the weather had been kind with calm seas. The bad news is their catch had been stolen. The wily sperm whales waited until the catch was being pulled up from the deep bottom loaded with fish on hundreds of hooks along the line. The whales moved in and neatly plucked the fish off the hooks, one after another. There is little the fishers' can do, the whales are protected and may not be harmed, even annoying them is illegal. (Healthy swearing at them is allowed, especially when they surface near the boat and 'gloat' at the captain.) All reported serious loss of fish, one boat talked of only bringing two fish aboard. Getting to know these people is a privilege.

Dance Bermuda

I grew up in Bermuda where, at the tender age of ten years, I began my artistic adventures in ballet. Later, I felt very lucky as an adult to return to the island at a time when dance had come to the fore in some new ways. As one of the founding members of Bermuda Dance Theatre, Bermuda’s first semi-professional dance company, I enjoyed working with wonderfully creative and talented dancers and choreographers.

Conchita Ming, a friend and former colleague, has written and compiled a book on the history of dance in Bermuda. Her book launch for Dance Bermuda is Friday, July 21, 2017 from 5:30-7:00 at Gallery 117, 117 Front Street, Hamilton, Bermuda. If you are on the island be sure to attend the launch. I certainly wish I could be there to celebrate Conchita and her accomplishments!

For more information about Dance Bermuda by Conchita Ming:

http://bernews.com/2017/07/new-book-details-rich-history-of-dance/

Butterflies

Kirie waits in the wings, her heart pounding. She rubs sweaty palms together and murmurs a good luck mantra. Stepping forward into a pool of light, she strikes a pose. The conductor gives the down beat. The orchestra plays the first long, trembling note, and then the world becomes dance. One step follows the other . . . a turn, a jump, a fluid porte de bras. Notes carry her around the space. Now her heart sings. The music builds, reaches a crescendo, and falls like butterflies landing into silence, leaving her center stage, an elegant picture in lavender tulle and point shoes.

by S.K. Randolph

a Drabble first published at bookhippo.uk on 2016-08-03

Back from the cove.

At last . . . anchored in our favorite quiet cove with no other humans around.

We rounded Leaning Tree Point and gazed the length of our favorite place to be. By the mouth of the creek at the end of a cove, a brown bear stood up on its hind legs, it penetrating gaze fixed on Finback. We must not feel threatening to him since it dropped to all fours and kept munching grass. When the anchor was set and we checked him out, we could see that he was a male at the end of adolescence with a pretty good-sized hump on his back, a sign that he is on his way to being a BIG adult! Tom named him Bud.

During our first afternoon, a silver seal swam by, an eagle winged its way overhead, and a small doe made a quick entrance onto the beach. Small fish jumping indicated bigger creatures . . . fish, seals, etc. giving chase.

Day two brought a heron that flew from one side of the cove to the other, landed, and began feasting on small sea creatures. Again, our favorite seal stopped by to check on us and to feast on small fish.

Day three brought the heron back for more, the seal into the cove for lunch, and two small dolphins to feed off the bow. An eagle landed on the beach and began a search for treats. Patches of tan and white announce the presence of several deer at different times of the day. And at dusk, Bud returned to munch and lay in the wet grass.

It has been rainy and cool, which means of course that clouds creep over the mountains and meander like ghost through the forest. Often, they will gather around a group of trees reminding me of the towns on hilltops in Sicily. My imagination kicks into gear. Tree tops become turrets and mist becomes the smoke of battle. I wonder what creatures live there and who’s winning the war.

Day Four was a quiet animal day . . . a bit more sun. Tom saw a small dolphin early. Our friendly seal stopped by but wouldn’t hang out for pictures.

Day Five seven deer paraded their little white tails at different times of the day. A couple of weasels searched the tide line for goodies. And heron fished by the Weeping Tree (a tall straggly evergreen that presides over the cove). Two dolphins made the rounds closely followed by our seal. Small silver fish jumped, trying to avoid being a larger fish’s dinner. Bud came out to bid us a good night. A day filled with animal moments. What a gift.

For more pictures TAP on the deer.

 

Finding ebooks - a new way

There are a lot of ebooks out there. In my search to find a good read and better yet a new (to me) author with several books to enjoy, I continue to explore the many free websites. I discovered a new tool that delivers in a different way. Using Facebook messenger 'Bookbot Bob' notifies me of books I may be interested in and smoothly delivers the ones I select. It is a good break from the usual multi-step, email flooding process. www.BookBotBob.com

Short, short story

Storm

by S.K. Randolph

a Drabble (a short, short story - 100 words, no more, no less)

first published at www.BookHippo.uk 2016/03/22

Storm

Every time Tad made progress in his fight to reach the shore, the sea surged, roiled, and sent him lurching backward. In desperation, he shipped his oars and grabbed the bailing bucket.

A wave crested, broke over his small boat, and sent him plunging into the seething sea. Cold water closed around him, drove him deeper, lifted him upward, and, flung him like a rag doll into darkness.

A dog’s rough, wet tongue licked his cheek. He bolted upright. Then he laughed. “Good morning, Jake!”