Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ireland. Show all posts

Monday, 24 October 2016

Halloween Week Begins With The Dark Man



Today, I officially kick off the beginning of my Halloween Week, (October 24th-31st) a spooky extravaganza of fun to celebrate the season. I have stories, poetry, a character interview with Lizzie Borden (from Lizzie Borden, Zombie Hunter), and some book spotlights, including one for the new release,  Furr by Axel Howerton. And don't forget to enter my Halloween Horror Haiku Giveaway (live until October 31st) by clicking on the Giveaway Tab at the top of the blog or this link: Halloween Horror Haiku Giveaway!  So come join me if you dare.

Now, settle in for my story based on another variation of the headless horsemen, this time a death rider from Ireland called The Dullahan. So don't walk alone at night and beware the Dark Man...




The Dark Man


On the blackest of evenings, when not a star nor moonbeam lit the sky and the clouds seemed made of soot and charcoal, a solitary figure walked the road home. His gait swayed and his liquor-laden breath puffed grey in the cold, while the lantern in his hand swung shadows across his footsteps. A jaunty, but off-tune, whistle played from his lips, and a grin lit his face.
“The best of nights it was!” He shouted raucous joy to the darkened heavens, before returning to his whistling.
His words echoed through the trees, a shiver to disturb the night birds and other things...
A shadow far beyond the road, the trees, or thoughts of drunken evenings, stirred. A scrape and a thump, a rhythmic pounding, and shudder of inky damnation set an ill-wind blowing across the countryside. And spinning on its eddy, came the sound of a name.
“Conall.”
The whistling man stopped at the chime of his name and turned, holding the lantern high and peering down the path he left behind. Hollow emptiness met his eyes and a chill breeze scattering the leaves of autumn.
“Hello. Is anyone there? If it’s you Fergus, you’ve had your laugh. Come on out.”
The only answer was the hoot of an owl.
Conall shrugged. “I’m hearing things, I suppose. Silly imaginings.”
He swung himself and his lantern roundabout, and took three steps forward before his name again travelled down the road to his ears.
“Conall.”
He shivered, but glanced back shining his light. Once more to see an empty road, devoid of any living soul. He shook his head, and turned back...
Another noise echoed, a faint thrash of hoofbeats. Conall spun, and saw nothing but a scatter of dust filling the air in the far distance. But no horse, no rider. Only the sound of a galloping beast and a spray of dirt.
He trembled, a shimmer of panic coursing through blood and bone. Then he ran, lantern waving wildly, racing as if the devil himself chased him. Breath heaving, feet pounding, his heart thumping a thunder boom in his chest, Conall bolted, while ever behind him rose the reverberation of a galloping horse. Closer, closer, louder, louder, until the rhythmic hammer of the sound smashed against his head, driving him faster into his mad flight.
He cried out, “What are you?!” as a immense shadow closed over him, and a great wind blew past him.
No not past, it felt as if the gale went through him. Chilled to the marrow, each breath an agony, Conall pulled short his frantic escape, stumbling over his feet as he stopped. A foul stench made him choke and he shuddered, his body rife with a damp stickiness. He looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood. His hands, his clothes his skin, his hair, all soaked in blood. On the tattered ends of his scream, he heard his name.
“Conall.”
Slowly, fearfully, he lifted his gaze. Before him was a massive black steed pawing at the ground. The creature tossed its head, snorting ruddy sparks from its nostrils and small flames from its mouth and staring at Conall with radiant crimson eyes. But as fearsome as the creature was, the rider atop its back seized Conall’s blood and soul in unspeakable dread.
It held all semblance of a man dressed in black, save it had no head, or rather a head tucked in the crook of its right arm. This severed cranium shimmered in a translucent glow and it grinned at him, a hideous grimace stretching from ear to lopsided ear. Blue veins snaked across sallow skin, and its coal-black eyes darted like summer mosquitoes. A low chuckle emanated from its mouth, followed by  another utterance of his name.
“Conall.”
Conall clutched his chest, choking out, “God save me!”
“It is too late for that.” The figure raised its left arm, and Conall spied a great whip made from the bones of a human spine. He fell to his knees, terror ripping through his guts.
“Spare me!”
Without word or mercy the creature brandished its whip, the malleable bones lashing around the flesh of Conall, and permeating to his very core. He screamed, the thousand times despair of the damned piercing him, and then he died, the soul shredded from his mortal form.
Farewell, Conall.”



© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved 






And please, return and join me tomorrow for my dark poetry corner.




Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Here's a creepy little poem to celebrate St. Patrick's Day.




An Irish Lullaby

Hush now, close your eyes
against the looming night
and the tempting moonlight.
Hush now, close your eyes.

Against the looming night
when the Fae Folk roam,
between morn and gloam.
Against the looming night

When the Fae Folk roam,
hear the banshee who wails.
I will sing you some tales,
when the Fae Folk roam.

Hear the banshee who wails.
Hush now, close your eyes,
dream of clear blue skies.
Hear the banshee who wails.

Hush now, close your eyes
against the looming night
and the tempting moonlight.
Hush now, close your eyes.


© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart


Saturday, 16 August 2014

Interview With Author Anthony St. Clair

Today is the first part of a double feature this weekend, spotlighting author Anthony St. Clair and his fantasy series, The Rucksack Universe. First up is an interview...


An Interview with Anthony St. Clair


Why don’t you begin by sharing a little about yourself.

I love the world, its vastness, how much more there is to see, do, and learn than we could ever accomplish in one life.

Always a traveler as a kid and a college student, when I was 20 I went on my first international trip—from Virginia to Edinburgh, Scotland. It completely changed how I see the world and what I understood to be the possible paths open to a person. In addition to my original semester-long university exchange, I wound up being in Scotland on and off for the next year, along with a few months in Ireland. Since then I've traveled throughout India, Thailand, Cambodia, Tibet, China, Nepal, and Australia.

My wife and I live in Oregon, where we love to cook, listen to classical and Celtic music, and enjoy our friends and home. We also still love to travel; we gave our son a passport for his first birthday, and he was 15 months old when we all went to Japan for 3 weeks in 2013.

Your latest book is the third in your fantasy series, The Rucksack Universe.  Can you tell us about the series, and its latest book addition, Forever the Road?

The Rucksack Universe [http://www.anthonystclair.com/rucksack-universe] is an ongoing series of fantasy books based all around globetrotters, vagabonds, and wanderers on various world and personal journeys. All the stories combine fantastical elements, a dash of alternate history, a pinch of romance, and dollops of wit, adventure, and beer. Each book is interconnected yet stands alone. Readers can first come to the series from any book and be immersed in a rich world that is similar to ours, but different in key ways that unfold story by story.

In Forever the Road [http://www.anthonystclair.com/rucksack-universe/the-stories/forever-the-road], the third and most recent book, three travelers in India battle their hearts and their destinies as an awakened evil prepares to destroy all life. Readers of the first two books will learn more about some characters they've met before, we’ll meet some new folks, and we’ll get to know someone who was only hinted at in the first book.

While Rucksack stories are based solidly in fantasy, there are no vampires, werewolves, demons, mystical swords, fairies, leather pants, or other cliched fantasy tropes (or when there are, they're rarely what they seem). But there are travelers, lots of beer, one misguided leap from a train, mysteries, a strange little object in a big backpack, Indian food, destiny-slinging bartenders, a night getting lucky that turns pretty yucky, and, above all, a whole lot of consideration of what makes life worth living and people worth connecting with.

Your books fall into the urban fantasy genre. What appeals to you about urban fantasy, as opposed to say epic, or more otherworldly, fantasy?

Ever since I was a kid, I've been obsessed with other worlds, and I've also been obsessed with the idea that beneath all the hardship and difficulty of our own world, there is something grand and shining, beautiful and full of love, beneath it all.

What appeals to me about urban fantasy is how it is at once both different and recognizable. Urban fantasy stories say that we typically exist within and notice only a sliver of the full depth and breadth of our world. And sometimes, if we let ourselves be open to it—or if we’re just in the right (or wrong!) place at the right/wrong time, we can go to a different world.

But here’s the thing: ultimately that world is our world, and really where we’re traveling and questing and struggling is within ourselves. We’re learning more about our lives, how we can live more fully. We can see how we can do more of the things we want to do, and how to live with and move beyond the things that may have hindered or harmed us in the past.

Travel is a big part of your narratives, and you've had your own travel adventures. How much of what went into your books is from firsthand experience, and how much is from other research?

A reader who reviewed my Ireland-set second book, Home Sweet Road [http://www.anthonystclair.com/rucksack-universe/the-stories/home-sweet-road], said “You can smell the smoke of peat fires and the briny sea and the rich green grass.” And that’s my hope: I want to transport readers. I want to immerse them in different cultures and places, in sensations and experiences, just like what happens when you not just visit a different place, but truly put yourself out there in the day-to-day world of Somewhere Else.

I use my boots-on-the-ground travel experiences to bring depth and verisimilitude to everything I write, while steering clear of the autobiographical. Of course, there are elements of my travels and person in my stories and characters—there’s a reason black coffee and stout beer are two of the four most important drinks in the Rucksack Universe! (Hmm. Suddenly, I’m thirsty.)

Forever the Road [http://www.anthonystclair.com/rucksack-universe/the-stories/forever-the-road] is set in India, in the fictional city of Agamuskara, which was founded by the first people to settle in the subcontinent. The city—and its river of the same name—is reminiscent of Varanasi with its dirty-yet-holy river, crowds, fascinating and diverse people, narrow streets, and heat.

Faddah Rucksack, one of my world’s main characters, says that “The only thing you can expect about India is that it will be itself.” And it’s true. India is a very in-your-face-with-everything-there-is-in-the-world country. It is intense, and pretty much every extreme of humanity and life co-exists there, often side by side.

I also use research to round out my knowledge or check details. However, one of the benefits of writing fiction is I can also make things up to fit the story, while also making the story fit the world. However, if I’m setting a story somewhere, I want to have traveled there too, because there are things you only learn from experience.

Can you tell us about your writing process?  Where do your ideas originate?  Do you have a certain writing routine?

My process is to write like I travel. I need to have some idea of where I want to go, but then give myself total freedom within that journey to change.

I can't just sit down and go from zero on a story. I need to know why the story needs to exist. I ask myself this question: "If I was telling my best friend why she should read this book, what would I say?" Once I can answer that question as both one word and one sentence, I plot out the story, including the action and emotion, scene by scene, all the way through.

Sometimes too, a story’s idea starts with the end in mind. A character is at a particular point in his or her journey—and then I work backwards. How did they get there? What happened along the way? What did it set up for what happens next?

As far as routine goes, writing is not just my passion, but my profession. And professionals get up and go to work, day in and day out, no excuses.

I set goals for what I need to do. And that varies project by project, since in addition to my books I write articles and do copywriting and content management for clients too. So my goal for the day might be to draft an 800-word article, or a blog post, or a scene in the next book. Once I've hit my goal I move on to other tasks for my business, or maybe read a book to my son, whatever. No matter what, I know I've done my creative work for the day and have pushed a project closer to done.

What is your greatest challenge as a writer?  Did anything surprise you about the process of writing your books?

I’d say my greatest challenge was in learning and understanding the process I needed to follow to go from starting stories but fizzling out, to turning out completed projects and published works.

Working on my fiction was nigh impossible until I sat down and worked through what I needed to do to write a story. I don't mean the discipline or the time or the mechanics of writing; I mean the "why" of the story, the reason that I needed to write the tale instead of, say, repairing my back fence or organizing the garage.

Figuring out my process was probably harder than actually writing a book. Now that I know my process, I can crank through my planning and manuscript writing at a strong pace.

Probably the thing that now surprises me the most, is just how deep the creative well goes. I know sometimes people are afraid to write or publish something, because they fear they won’t have anything else to say. In my experience, the opposite has happened. The more I delve into my world and share its stories, the more ideas come.

Who has inspired you as an author?

In terms of other authors, Tom Robbins, Bill Bryson, Terry Pratchett, and Neil Gaiman are big inspirations. Some inspire me for their work ethic, some for the amazing literary and popular quality of their works, and some just because they’re neat people.

But probably my biggest inspiration is my Grandma Denise. She’s the most vivacious person I know, always living life to the fullest and making time for the experiences and people she cares about. She’s had her hardships in life, but it made her all the more determined to focus on what mattered to her. That’s an attitude and outlook I work hard every day to maintain, and I hope I’m instilling that same sense of focus, decision, and passion in my son.

What do you like to do when you're not writing?

I once heard that writers need to have something to do with their hands that isn't writing. For me, that’s cooking. Good, simple, honest, from-scratch food is important to me and my family. If I’m not writing, there’s a good chance I’m in the kitchen. My wife and I often cook and bake together. Every since my son was a baby, I've been putting bacon under his nose, explaining how to do a parallel cut with a chef’s knife, and spotting him while he pours flour into a bowl.

What’s next for you?

2014 has been such an amazing year. Home Sweet Road [http://www.anthonystclair.com/rucksack-universe/the-stories/home-sweet-road] came out in January, and I recently put out a new cover for the first book, The Martini of Destiny [http://www.anthonystclair.com/rucksack-universe/the-stories/the-martini-of-destiny]. I’m hard at work on the next 2 Rucksack Universe books, due out in 2015. I’m also figuring out the best way forward to bring all 3 current books to audiobook format, and am looking at translations too. 

Beyond all that? My wife and I are expecting our second child, codenamed Marvellous Kiddo, in November. Writing and publishing books is really cool, but nothing is more exciting than meeting this new person.


Anthony St. Clair has walked with hairy coos in the Scottish Highlands, choked on seafood in Australia, and watched the full moon rise over Mt. Everest in Tibet. Anthony’s travels have also taken him around the sights and beers of Thailand, Japan, India, Canada, Ireland, the USA, Cambodia, China and Nepal. He and his wife live in Oregon and gave their son a passport for his first birthday. Learn more at www.anthonystclair.com.


Thanks to Anthony for such a great interview, and be sure to pop back tomorrow for a feature spotlight on the third book in the Rucksack Series, Forever the Road, to be released Sept. 8th.

Monday, 17 March 2014

Irish Hearts: A Poem for St. Patrick's Day


Irish Hearts


That lilting song of the harp
echoes far o’er the Irish hills.
The spirit that nothing stills,
that lilting song of the harp.


Echoes far o’er the Irish hills,
shout the pride in Irish hearts
and the brotherhood imparts
echoes far o’er the Irish hills.


Shout the pride in Irish hearts
hear it sound, beyond the sea
adrift on the wind, flying free
Shout the pride in Irish hearts


Hear it sound, beyond the sea
a tender tune, a haunting voice
and those that hear, will rejoice.
Hear it sound, beyond the sea


A tender tune, a haunting voice,
that lilting song, of the harp.
Music with an ache so sharp,
a tender tune, a haunting voice.


That lilting song of the harp
echoes far o’er the Irish hills.
The spirit that nothing stills,
that lilting song of the harp.




Sunday, 17 March 2013

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

In honour of St. Patrick's Day, I'm posting one of my poems of Ireland from my book, Reflections of Poetry.  Enjoy.


Irish Sons and Daughters

Sing a song for the Emerald Isle
All you Irish daughters and sons
All you sweet, fortunate ones
Sing a song for the Emerald Isle

All you Irish daughters and sons
Show me your nation’s pride
Leave no listener here dry-eyed
All you Irish daughters and sons

Show me your nation’s pride
Remember olden days of glory
Ring out each and every story
Show me your nation’s pride

Remember olden days of glory
Tell the gathered, lads and lasses
While the ale and whiskey passes
Remember olden days of glory

Tell the gathered, lads and lasses
Sing a song for the Emerald Isle
A song of cheer and stay awhile
Tell the gathered, lads and lasses.






Reflections of Poetry is available at:
Amazon
Smashwords
B&N
Kobo
iTunes


Sunday, 17 April 2011

Dark History Revisited: A Review of The Irish Slaves

My Book Review of The Irish Slaves: Slavery, Indenture and Contract Labour Among Irish Immigrants by Rhetta Akamatsu:


The Irish Slaves: Slavery, Indenture and Contract Labour Among Irish Immigrants by Rhetta Akamatsu is a history book that narrates, not only some overlooked history, but a tale of humanity that both endures and is abhorrent. It is a well researched, well-written book that opens a page on the slave trade of past ages.

The book recounts the story of the terrible injustice perpetrated on the people of Ireland by England. It details the causes and cultural attitudes that led to this lucrative slave trade, and dissects the treatment of human beings used as a commodity.
The book divides itself by geography, taking each destination used in the Irish slave trade and documents the system and conduct of the people involved. The different laws and slave traditions are described for each region and the author adds historical accounts from the slaves and their masters that give a personal and insightful touch.

Generally, the narration flows smoothly, holding the reader firmly in the past, doling out the information in an engaging manner. The only flaws are some, perhaps unavoidable, repetition and the occasional typo that find their way into the pages, but they do not detract overly from the quality of the book.

The Irish Slaves is an absorbing read, making the history it recounts alive and vibrant in all its misery and perseverance. The book is a fascinating look into a piece of darker history.


Article first published as Book Review: The Irish Slaves: Slavery, Indenture and Contract Labour Among Irish Immigrants by Rhetta Akamatsu on Blogcritics.


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