Published: April 15th, 2014
Description:
Scents and Senses: Supernatural Friends. What the fairy tales didn’t tell you Playing the role of a knight in shining armor is more complicated than it seems in the storybooks, as sixteen-year-old Joy discovers when she repeatedly comes to the rescue of a fifteen-year-old human. But when she meddles in the girl’s social life, Starra sends her packing.
Starra is determined to completely dissociate herself from the subterranean creature that has manipulated her life and cast her into the limelight. However, her resolve is soon tested when she becomes involved in a critical situation where supernatural assistance can enable her to carry out a daring plot.
Eventually, Starra’s involvement with her new other-wordly friends extracts a heavy price when she is beset by challenges that range from the down- to-earth struggles of a typical teenage student, to the realm of the fantastic. Nothing prepares her, however, for the ultimate challenge.
GUEST POST
Dangers of writing Scents and
Senses
Sipping nana tea may trick the
mouth into feeling cool, but I’m still sweltering under the North African
sun. The proprietor of the café makes
his rounds with flaky, honey glazed pastries. These rich-in-caloric content
sweets, which would burn right off in these temperatures, approach my table at
the back of the courtyard. Though I dread my engine overheating, fear of
offending his hospitality is greater.
His tray emptied, the proprietor
grabs his oud, plops down on a rug in the front of the courtyard, and
releases a catchy tune from his instrument.
Some men with white whiskers,
arguing over a game similar to backgammon, drop their pieces and grab up darbukas.
A song in their native dialect breaks out, and the occupants of the café’s
outdoor seats all join in the chorus.
Bereft of the regional drums, I tap
my foot and strum my fingers on the table. I’ve got to shoot this so my friends
see what I’m experiencing here. Most of them can’t fathom why I’d want to
vacation in this primitive country, and with the help of my video maybe they’ll
figure I’m enraptured with the rich cultural norms here. Of course, that’s not
it though. Only my best friend knows the real reason I’m here — to check out
for myself one of the significant settings my heroine, Starra, finds herself
in.
I bend over to fish out my phone,
which is squished between old coke bottles filled with rosewater.
“You pay. You need.”
I jump. At my shoulder stands a
slightly-built boy in a beige djellaba and dusty sandals. How did he
creep up on me?
He dangles a crude piece of metal
tied to a red string on his arm. Oh, just another peddler, like the many others
who have badgered me. But I can’t turn away the kids. Who knows if they won’t
be beaten if they don’t meet their quota of sales? Or maybe my change can buy
them pita with a sprinkling of za’atar and olive oil to fill their hungry
bellies.
That’s why my purse is bulging with
those bottles. Buried beneath them are used pencils that won’t sharpen, watches
that are accurate in a different time zone, an assortment of cheap
trinkets. And another piece is about to
squeeze in with them.
I hold out a dollar bill.
The boy shakes his head.
Huh? This is a first. Usually his
fellow countrymen take the green paper and run off.
“One hundred dollars.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You need. Big need.”
Oh, I get it. He’s not desperate.
From his tactics, he must be a child of a souk merchant. I hold up my
pointer finger “One dollar. One, or nothing.” I’m not playing any games.
“One hundred.”
He’s not even making an attempt to
bargain? That’s the routine for any sale here! Does he think I’ll meet his
outrageous demand because I look like a naive American? “No thank you. I’m not
interested.” I turn away to watch some patrons who are belly dancing.
“No pay, they get you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. No. Me warn you. They watch
you. They near you. Always near.”
My head spins around, but every
pair of eyes in the vicinity is on the belly dancers.
“You no see them. No one see.”
“Then how do you know they’re
watching me?”
The boy bends over and whispers in
my ear “I smell. Me good nose. Me feel they here. At pyramid too, me smell them
near you. Me follow you here, and all time, smell.”
Oh my. Is this a prank? Has the boy
read Scents and Senses? But I use
a pen name, so how would he have connected me to the book? If this is not a
joke…no, this can’t be.
Not only the bellies rotate, the
tables, the hanging rugs, the people, all spin.
“You shake. No fear. No fear if you
pay.”
“Me? I’m not afraid. They don’t
bother people these days.”
“Here they do. You witch?”
“No! I’m no witch! Why do you think
that?”
“They follow you. Near you.
They watch witches, if witches mess with them.”
“No. No. I’m no witch.” That’s all
I need. If the locals suspect me of witchcraft, they’ll lynch me. “But I did write a story about them.”
“Ah. They no like. No like story,
no like talk. They watch you now. You no safe. In my country they do mischief.”
Dancers, décor, and diners whirl
around as if they’re in a blender.
“No fear, no fear if you pay.”
“You’re bothering me with this nonsense now?”
“No, no! No nonsense. This amulet —
help you. From Seer, see letters?” He holds it up to my eyes and points to
scratches in the metal.
I whip out a Benjamin.
“Good. Come.”
“What do you mean come? Just hand
me over the amulet.”
“No give amulet away! Me need. Only
one. Me take you to plane, you go home.”
“So I paid you for what?”
“You hold my sleeve. Amulet help
you too. But you go.”
A stifling cab ride gets us to the
teeming airport. After check in, we head to the gate, but Security doesn’t
allow the boy in.
“What should I do now?” I whisper.
The boy flashes a bill.
I’m another Benjamin poorer, but my
dingy clad protector is seated next to me. “What’s next? I can’t fly you home
with me.”
“Ah, no fear. They no like plane.
Too many people squeeze. Too smell.”
“So once I get on the plane, I’m
safe, right?”
“Safe, but no more story, no more
mess. Too danger.”
My heart hasn’t settled into its
normal place, and my arms are still covered in goose bumps, yet the thought of
not staying true to Starra and Joy breaks my dislodged heart. Is this where
their saga will end?
What do you say – to write or not
to write?
Goodreads ** Smashwords ** Amazon ** Barnes&Noble
Loren Secretts was raised in a book-filled home, in a sleepy east coast suburb of the US. These factors are undoubtedly responsible for her early design of a number of exciting imaginary worlds that she could escape to from time to time during her childhood. In her teen years, between schoolwork and lending an ear to her friends, Loren had less opportunity to go AWOL. Instead, her experience as a confidant to others inspired her to major in psychology in college and earn her M.A. in the field on the west coast. As an adult, Loren has found fulfillment in her work with children and families for more than a decade. Her passion for writing was revived when she discovered that she enjoyed delving into the human psyche to write psychological reports. But clients' reports are safe with Loren, who guards secrets fastidiously. Indeed, one of her aspirations is to work as a psychotherapist for the CIA, but since she now lives with her family in Canada, that dream will have to await its turn…Author's Giveaway
a Rafflecopter giveaway
3 comments:
This looks really interesting!
Thank you for hosting me and the opportunity to submit a guest post, CCAM.
And thank you Nikki for your comment!
The synopsis sounds interesting and the cover looks pretty awesome! I like the name of the protagonist. Haven't heard of it until now! :]
Post a Comment