Saddle Up Saloon: Joanne Fisher in the Author’s Chair
“Folks, welcome ta another Author’s Chair. We’re thrilled ta have Joanne Fisher join us this month, all the way from New Zealand.”
“New Zealand! What an Odyssey! Pal, will Joanne treat us ta some a her sci-fi? Mebbe fantasy adventures? More tales a the farm with Jess an’ Cindy?”
“Good guesses, Kid. But here she is, let’s let Joanne tell us.”
“Howdy, Joanne Fisher! Welcome ta the Author’s Chair.”
“Hello Kid, hello Pal. The story I’m going to read is a poem story.”
“Epic!”
“It is, Kid, but I am only going to read one poem from my sequence based on The Odyssey, The Return. When deciding on which poem in The Return sequence to use, I decided to start at the beginning (since it’s a very good place to start).”
“How cool! I have a lot of questions already, Joanne.”
“Kid, I’m sure Joanne has a lot to say about the Odyssey and her sequence of poems but ‘member, the point a the Author’s Chair is ta give folks a chance ta hear fer themselves an’ ask their questions in the comments section.”
“Thanks Pal.”
Penelope Waits why do I constantly look out our window hoping to see your ship returning to its harbour? why do I listen for the sound of your footsteps echoing up to our bedchamber? I know you too well you've gone after your own desires & I'm the spider who waits quietly the thing with journeys is that they spiral inwards to your own dark heart should you return you'll find me here spinning a web to ensnare you & every night I unpick it while hungry men wait below none of them have your eyes or your smell all the heroes returned from the wars, except you long have I dreamed of your dark hair, tanned skin, & sinewy form to emerge out of the frothing sea-water & into my arms but I know you too well you will come home only when you are tired of your journeys your betrayals your lies & after so many threads I'm tired of waiting for our lives to begin again is there anything worth salvaging between us? Joanne Fisher You can read the entire sequence here: https://jedigirlblog.wordpress.com/2021/10/14/the-return-full-sequence/
“Now folks, don’t forgot, this is all about engagement, so ask yer questions about this poem. I know Joanne would enjoy talking’ about it. An’ remember, names are randomly drawn from among the questions an’ comments. Congratulations ta Norah Colvin who was drawn from Liz’s reading’ last month. Norah, you will receive a copy of T. Marie Bertineau’s The Mason House.”
“Joanne Fisher lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She writes poetry, flash fiction, fiction, and the occasional article. She has written two unpublished novels, and her poetry has appeared in magazines and journals in New Zealand and overseas. One day she hopes to eventually get round to compiling a second collection of poetry, as well as publishing some ebooks of her flash fiction.”
You can find Joanne at jedigirlblog
Joanne the Geek Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100062936245988
Twitter: @joannefisher63
Contact Kid and Pal’s writer, D. Avery, if you want to take a seat in the Author’s Chair here at the Saddle Up Saloon.
Saddle Up Saloon: Liz Husebye Hartmann in the Author’s Chair
“Folks we’re real pleased to welcome Liz Husebye Hartmann ta the Author’s Chair this month.”
“Thet’s right. You know her as a friendly Ranch hand and a real fine writer. Here she is.
Howdy Liz! Thanks fer comin’ by with a story.”
“Hello Pal, hello Kid. It’s good to be in the Saloon. I’m going to read ‘A Giant Problem Solved’.”
“Yippee! I sure enjoy yer tales.”
Giant Problem Solved
by Liz Husebye Hartmann
(Trigger alert: Not a tale for the wee ones)
Hugo’s belly pangs rumbled down the darkening mountainside above Heffinger Hollow. He was sorely tempted to nibble on a half-cooked morsel or two of the spunky spelunkers that frequented Carbuncle Caverns. This particular group of spelunkers had surprised the village by sneaking in to the Carbuncle and setting out to explore without a guide. They’d zigged when they should have zagged on that seventh leg of the descent, and had fallen deep into the bowels of the lowest cavern of Carbuncle.
This had proved deadly for them, but put their corpses within easy reach of Hugo.
But a bit of history, first…
Several millennia ago, the Hollow’s ancestors had agreed to a quarterly human sacrifice, demanded by the Weather Gods in exchange for good hunting, abundant harvests, a healthy populace, and the like. Then, a handful of centuries ago, Hugo had been dropped on them by an angry Goddess, who’d demanded he do something useful and make amends though service. No one dared ask what he’d done, opting instead to accept him as a member of the community, and the new middle man in the quarterly sacrifice.
The villagers were grateful that Hugo had turned out to be fairly reasonable (for a giant), as well as a terrific strategist for a modern-day tourism plan that now kept him fed, and the close-knit community of Heffinger safe from the prying eyes of the media and those pesky, intrepid folklorists. No tourist had ever registered complaint over the occasional roll of light thunder through clear skies; stormy weather always passed quickly. Dining, shopping, and spelunking plans were never canceled due to inclement weather.
And if Hugo and the Hollow had found a creative way to appease the Gods, feed the giant, keep the tourists and spelunkers coming and their local economy healthy, then that was best for everyone. After all, the villagers needed to change with the times.
But on this particular day…
On this particular day that was neither the beginning, nor the end of the quarter, Hugo was very hungry. His stomach was rumbling, and his unhappy belches began to fill the pristine sky with noxious green clouds.
UPS delivery to remote Heffinger Hollow was dodgy at its best, and Hugo had been late in getting out his bi-monthly order for HealthyMealz Krunchy Snackz ® (registered trademark). Not one to overlook an opportunity, Hugo had reached his long arm into the lowest cavern of the Carbuncle, fished out the dead bodies with his hairy fingers, and spitted the spelunkers. Waste not, want not, he reasoned.
Now the people of the Hollow looked up at the mountain with a little bit of terror as lightning ripped across the sky. The Weather Gods were clearly not pleased. Was this to be the end of their peaceful and prosperous life?
Hugo quickly owned up to his mistake. He swore to the Weather Gods and Goddesses that he would do better next time, and never again be caught without a proper snack to see him through to his next meal. For that reason, and to demonstrate his sincerity and commitment, he had made himself wait, stomach rumbling and popping, as he rotated the sizzling spelunkers over his camp fire with the one hand, and shook the tiny canister of Hot Seasons Cheddar Sprinkles ™ (trademark, patent pending) with the other.
Forgiving himself, he felt he deserved an extra portion of the cheese seasoning since he hadn’t had a snack since the day before yesterday; the athletic spelunkers tended toward being quite lean, and more than a little dry. And for pre-seasoning food prep, he’d rubbed the bodies with lanolin from a couple of very large sheep he’d plucked off the mountainside, promptly replacing the dazed creatures back with their herd.
It was a brilliant bit of ethical and sustainable sourcing.
Hugo leaned backward into a nearby waterfall and drank deeply of its tumbling waters to soothe his stomach as he waited.
The Gods, intrigued by his culinary imagination, were appeased. No more lightning. Gone was the green cloud and noxious fumes, and a beautiful full moon rose over the mountain and into every corner of the Hollow to promise continued prosperity. The Heffinger Hollow folk raised their noses and marveled at the rich scent carried on the now-clean winds, and considered that a quick and immediate visit to the giant might be in order. They packed up their kegs of Heffinger Dark Brew and made it a party.
And of course, they all lived happily ever after, and considered a new supply chain for Hugo’s meals, as well as a different delivery service for snacks. And if Hugo had not finished nibbling spelunkers then, he is surely nibbling them still.
Snip Snap Snu, and now my tale is through.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021) (10/03/ 2021)
“Thet was a fine tellin’ of a fine tale Liz. Are ya ready for questions about it?”
“I am!”
“Okay folks, interact an’ ask questions in the comments section. Ya might even git randomly drawn ta win a free book! Last month’s winner is Nan who will relieve a copy of The Fire Keeper’s Daughter.”
“Yes, grab a cup of coffee, tea, or whatever is your favorite beverage, and say hi! The valley is open, the weather hospitable, and the trolls very friendly. And since the story shared here is about as fictional as they come, feel free to pose any question. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll make something up. Cuz fiction (wink!)”
Liz Husebye Hartmann is a Midwest dabbler in fiction, modern fairytales, and poetry. Her shorter works can be found online at https://valleyofthetrolls.blog/, in various chapbooks and anthologies, and most recently, “This Was 2020: Minnesotans Write About Pandemics and Social Justice in a Historic Year” (2021).
Contact Kid and Pal’s writer, D. Avery, if you want to take a seat in the Author’s Chair here at the Saddle Up Saloon.