Did You Know…About Atlantis (Part Two)

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Ancient Mysteries, anthology, atlantean, atlantis, avebury, Broken World, carnac, Crete, did you know, Egypt, fantasy, folklore, geology, K.T. Frost, Lost City, Minoan, myth, paranormal, plato, Spyridon Marinatos, stonehenge, Thera, tsunami, volcanic explosion, writing

So if we believe Plato’s notes on Atlantis, the continent should lie somewhere off the coast-lines of the Atlantic Ocean. However, several hypotheses have tried to connect Eastern Atlantic structures as megalithic buildings, such as chambered tombs or stone monuments. These megalithic builders were characteristic of prehistoric Europe, and the claims of matching buildings in the Atlantic Americas do not uphold under close inspection. Essentially, “there are no America equivalents of the chambered tombs of the stone rings at Stonehenge, Avebury, and Carnac” (James and Thorpe).

The various geologic claims of Atlantis as a lost continent, in short, are unfounded. The continental drift, in which the world’s one landmass fractured apart—now known as the tectonic plate theory, does not allow room for the Atlantean continent. Recent theories suggest Altantis may have relocated to Antartica, but no evidence exists to support this other than a literal reading of Plato.

Although Plato’s depiction of the lost city was debunked, K.T. Frost, a young Belfast University scholar, suggested that Atlanteans echo the once-flourishing Minoan civilization in Crete: “Egyptian tomb paintings depicting visitors in Minoan-style costume showed that the Egyptians were aware of this civilization, while its sudden disappearance about 1400 B.C., Frost suggested might have given them the impression that ‘the whole kingdom had sunk in the sea’” (James and Thrope). The only drawback was the lack of a big enough catastrophe.

Greek archeologist Spyridon Marinatos theorized that the crater left by the explosion of Thera, a Bronze Age volcanic explosion turned tsunami, left a crater and gave rise to the tale of Altantis’ destruction. His 1967 excavation uncovered streets, houses, and beautiful pottery. This discovery prompted several books in 1969 that argued Thera as the real Atlantis. However, many of the comparisons between the Minoan and Atlantean civilizations were too weak, the explosion of Knossos a decade and a half earlier, and the lack of communication breakdown between Egypt and the Aegean world was not significant to indicate a “sinking” of an island.

My source:

James, Peter and Nick Thorpe. Ancient Mysteries. Ballantine Books: New York, 1999. Print.

Want to know more?

Andrew Collins on Atlantis as Crete or Thera

The UnMuseum on Atlantis

The Shadowlands, Atlantis the Lost Continent

Want to read about my version of Atlantis?

Read “Maiden of the Underworld” in my DISTORTED anthology.

 

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I’m back with Cheap Reads!

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alisha costanzo, beta readers, blood phoenix, blood phoenix: imprinted, book boyfriend, Broken World, Celampresians, cheap reads, did you know, editing, fantasy, folklore, giveaway, humor, insta-love, Loving Red, myth, mythology, novel, paranormal, paranormal romance guild, readers, review, romance, Sale, Shapeshifter, Transmundane Press, urban fantasy, vampires, weres, werewolves, writing, YA novel

Hey, lovely readers!

I’ve been slacking. I know it, but this month has been CRAZY! Personal stuff, business stuff, writing stuff, teaching stuff. You don’t need the details, just know that I’m back, and I have new blog posts about the editing process, about BLOOD PHOENIX: IMPRINTED and beta reader opportunities, new giveaways, a new YA novel, and some new Did You Know posts. I’m also working on another newsletter and short stories.

But for now, my latest novel, LOVING RED, is on half off (on sale for $1.99) until June 6th.

Here’s the latest review:

“When I first started reading this story, I was afraid it was going to be one of those insta-love stories. However, although the book only spans about a week’s time, it doesn’t feel like insta-love.

Severins is a wolf shifter on leave from the army. His impeccable sense of smell picks up Kaia’s scent during a bus ride, and he knows he has to have her but not just for a one-night stand. He goes to her job and pretends to be a client to con her into going on a date with him. He is unaware that Kaia, a human, knows of his world, and that she is in danger.

It isn’t specifically stated, but I feel like Sev immediately thought she was destined to be his. He instantly has a drive to protect her and to claim her as his but, like the romantic he is, he wants her to be the one to decide about their relationship. Swoon.

The two have an immediate attraction, but Kaia is leery because of a past relationship with a shifter. As the danger gets closer and closer to Kaia, the two must go on the run from the Celampresians who follow them.

Sev is 100% book boyfriend material. I loved his character. He is so caring and protects Kaia and Shawna with every part of his being.

I’m not completely sure how I feel about Kaia. I originally thought she would be portrayed as a weak human who needed saving, but the only time she comes across as weak is when she is, for lack of a better word, possessed. Many times she shows mental and emotional strength, but she never becomes an active participant in physical fights.

This was a great read that I would recommend to my closest friends. I really enjoyed the story and most of all Severins!”

Review by Tina, Member of the Paranormal Romance Guild Review Team

#MermaidCock, UNDERWATER release day!

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#mermaidcock, anthology, Aquarian, backyard pool, beneath the surface, Broken World, brutal, collection, cruel, Death, depths, drowning, editing, fantasy, fascination, fish, folklore, hedonism, honeymoon, horror, humor, immortal, irrational fear, love, manifestation, mermaids, military, military training, mysteries, myth, ocean, paralyzing, paranormal, pervert, pinocchio, pleasure sphere, radioactive crocodiles, romance, sadistic, seaweed, secret, sharks, Sister Ursula, swallows, terror, Underwater, vampire, vicious, water, whale

Pinocchio really did a number on me when I was young. You know, the part where the whale swallows him, his father, and their cat. I didn’t know it at the time, but my irrational fear of water points back to this scene.

I’m completely terrified of drowning. Never mind that I had a pool in my backyard from a young age and swam for the high school swim team in eight grade.

Swimming alone scared me the most. I thought that if I dipped into the water by myself that a whale would magically materialize in the deep end and swallow me whole. Or that I might drown for the mere reason that no one was present to save me.

Natural bodies of water are worse because of fish and seaweed. Now, maybe the fish thing seems a little odd to you, but I assure you, the thought of fish nibbling the toes off my feet can be completely paralyzing. (And now people pay for fishies to eat the dead skin off of their feet. I can’t fathom it).

The worse instance of my fear’s manifestation was on the nine-plus-hour trip to the UK for my honeymoon. For weeks and possibly months, I annoyed the hell out of my loved ones, colleagues, and students with how afraid I was to crash into the ocean, drown, and have a whale eat my body. Are you noticing that whales seem to frighten me more than sharks.

I mean, am I the only one?

Yet, my husband has reassured me that drowning is not as bad as I’ve grown believing. He should know. He’s drowned twice—once by accident and once on purpose.

You heard me right. I said, “on purpose.”

Military training is sadistic.

Speaking of sadistic…nice segue, right? UNDERWATER excites the shit out of me, and the poor authors within had to deal with my form of editing, which is…you guessed it…brutal, cruel, and vicious. I do it out of love, guys. I promise.

These sixteen stories are full of humor, horror, and hedonism, and they build a revealing illustration of our fascination with what lies beneath the surface.

Beyond the fear, I’ve always loved the mysteries the Aquarian depths hold, especially mermaids, which we have a nice variety of in this anthology. And I need to tell you a secret about them…are you in close? Ready for it?

Eating mermaids will make you immortal.

What?

I know. Mind blown.

And don’t be perverted about this. We have enough of that in the stories. In fact, us editors have an inside joke.

#MermaidCock

Yup. You read that correctly.

We keep seeing it in hidden between the lines—in Sister Ursula’s habit, tattooed on the inside of a vampire’s thigh, among the others in the Pleasure Sphere, swimming along side the radioactive crocodiles—and of course, there is plenty of explicit mermaid cock in these stories, too.

And I challenge you not to let it slip into each of the others as you read through this collection.

Check out UNDERWATER! You won’t be disappointed.

And DISTORTED is on sale for $1.99 this week in celebration!

 

Excerpt from UNDERWATER: “Fossegrimmen” by Megan McFerren

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anthology, brave, curiosity, echo, edge, excerpt, fiddle, foam, folklore, fossegrimmen, great rewards, Kjell, megan mcferren, Music, myth, old familiar song, pool, romance, sheep, Underwater, ventures, waterfall, wet

Brave ventures yield great rewards, Kjell reasons, so long as one survives them. Perhaps the same is true for sheep.

His foot digs deeper, and he steps back. The stories of places like this are known well, the haunts of wights and elves who will demand tribute for passing near their homes. Children’s stories, no doubt, to keep them from toppling down onto the rocks. Myths and fables from more superstitious times.

Surely, then, the strains of music are only his imagination.

Surely, the lilting of fiddle strings must be carrying on the wind across the fell.

Surely, Kjell must have just spent too much time afield alone, and his mind has wandered far as his stubborn sheep.

Curiosity pulls him towards the edge once more. With mistrust towards the stability of the soft soil and misgivings towards his own mind, Kjell slips closer to the falls. Dulcet tones rise in a familiar old song from Kjell’s childhood but whose words he can’t recall. The cascade of water is twice his height but no more than that, and when Kjell leans, only the edge of the shadowy pool beneath shows, foaming white beneath the spray. The bend of strings echoes louder from below, a sound so warm that Kjell forgets how wet his clothes have become in seeking the music’s source.

“Hello?”

Kjell’s voice rings back at him after a pause, too long to be his own echo, and yet, it sounds much the same. His brow furrows at the strange delay. He draws a breath to call again and holds it when a voice responds:

“Hello.”

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“The Rainbow Sprite” Teasers

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alisha costanzo, anthology, blade, blood, breasts, Broken World, corpse, cruel, Death, fae, faerie mound, fantasies, feel, flesh, groin, heart, magick, myth, new york, paranormal, power, scruff, sex, taste, teasers, The Rainbow Sprite, Underwater, urban fantasy, vampires, whimper, woods

New teasers for my upcoming story, “The Rainbow Sprite.”

All full of sex and magick – just the way I like it.

Stay tuned tomorrow for a video excerpt, read by yours truly.

Mini-Author Interviews: Anthony S. Buoni

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airboats, American Venice, anthology, anthony s. buoni, Big Easy, cataclysmic, cockiness, crime, culture, Death, drink, fallout, flood, food, ghosts, horror, interview, Katrina, looting, Mini-Author Interviews, murder, Music, myth, New Orleans, organic monster, pilot, raiding, soggy, sumerged, swamp, Underwater, unhinged, urban fantasy, voodoo, wasteland

Mini-Author Interviews for UNDERWATER:

Anthony S. Buoni

What inspired your story?

I’ve lived in New Orleans off and on for over 21 years. It sings to me in a way no other place ever has. When Katrina flooded the Big Easy, my heart broke. Our country’s most unique city, rich with centuries of culture and history, submerged in a few short hours. People begging for rescue atop homes jutting from the murky water—an American Venice, tragic and romantic, flooded the television sets around the world, and I wondered if I’d get home again. Sometimes a place is more than a place, and I began wondering, should the swamp reclaim the area, who—and what—would remain? Would anyone ever come back? One of my best friends lives in Houma, just south of Nola, and she works for one of the local haunted house here, the House of Shock. Her normal character is a voodoo queen, and so I took some cues from that. This story is really a gift to her.

 

Did you have to do any research? If so, what kind? What did you learn?

Geographical. New Orleans is shaped like a bowl, so some parts of the city are on higher ground than others. Watching videos that recreated the flooding, the fallout, the looting. I examined airboats, how they operated and what not.

 

Can you tell me a little bit about your protagonist?

He’s an expert airboat pilot. Got a lover back on solid ground, and he hopes these runs will afford him a family. This is his first time raiding the city for supplies, and he’s nervous, but his youth also breeds cockiness.

 

Tell me about the setting you chose and how it influences your work.

New Orleans is a living, organic monster. She decides who she’ll embrace and who she’ll spit out. Music, drink, crime, culture, food, ghosts, voodoo, murder—it can be a little much for some. The city not only influences my work, but every aspect of my life. It made me the creature I am today and continues shaping my life.

 

What would you like readers to know about “Diluvium”?

It’s a wasteland story, a smaller piece to a larger world that’s come unhinged. Several other authors are currently chipping away at different regions (and different points in time) of this world—mine just happens to be soggy. Maybe we’ll see all these cataclysmic tales come together someday…

 

Living and creating in New Orleans, Louisiana, Anthony S. Buoni haunts swamps and bayous along the Gulf of Mexico, writing, editing, producing, and lecturing about his craft. A practicing pagan, he’s responsible for the BETWEEN THERE anthologies as well as his screenplay-novel, CONVERSION PARTY, available through PULPWOOD PRESS. Recently, he’s co-edited and co-produced two exciting anthologies with Alisha Costanzo with their independent imprint, TRANSMUNDANE PRESS: DISTORTED: vol 1 and UNDERWATER: vol 1.

In the past, he produced the underground zine MEOW and the illustrated horror rag OUTRÉ from MEOW PRESS, and his work has appeared in WATERFRONT LIVING, NORTH FLORIDA NOIR, and SMALL HAPPY. Currently writing a New Orleans monster novel as well as putting the final edits on novels featuring ghosts, zombies, and a café between life and death filled with secrets and philosophy. His next book, a collection of dark short stories, is due for publication in early 2016.

When not writing, Anthony is a Bourbon Street bartender and underground musician and DJ, drawing down the moon with new wave, trance, and melancholy tunes. Other interests include film, gardening, comic books, and playing video games with his son, Fallon.

 

Follow him on facebook or his website.

Excerpt from UNDERWATER: “Diluvium” by Anthony S. Bunoi

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anthology, anthony s. buoni, beads, bisceting, boat, body, crunching, Death, dismembering, excerpt, Fifth Wave, flood, folklore, gator, glistening teeth, horror, killing, love, Mardi Gras, marriage, massive jaws, murky water, myth, New Orleans, pornos, radiation, screams, statue, swampies, tearing, tits, Underwater, urban fantasy

“Looks like a winner,” Peter said, pointing towards one of the effigies, a woman with flowing hair that covered her bare breasts with her left arm. “She’s probably heavy, but I ain’t afraid to drag her up. Probably worth beaucoup credits. I think she’s close enough to the railing for me to reach.”

“I think it’s too much. How are we gonna get her on the boat?”

“Watch a master, kid.” Peter hopped over the rail in one effortless motion. Reaching towards one of the trees, he snatched a purple strand of beads from the limbs, snapping the branch in the process.

“Show me your tits.” He tossed the beads at Louis, missing his target by several feet. Peter almost lost his balance but steadied himself with a heel against the rail. “Take those home to the missus. She’ll blow ya for sure.”

“I want to get her real jewelry. Make it official.”

“You don’t want to do that. Next thing you know you’re not allowed to go out drinking, you have to toss your pornos out with the spoiled milk, and then your boys can’t even come over for chess. Down the road she’ll want kids, and they’ll come out with webbed fingers because of all the fucking radiation in the air.”

“You’re so damned negative all the time. We’ve been living together a while, and it’s good.”

“Shacking up is totally different than marriage.” Peter reached out, but the statue was just beyond his fingertips. He sighed. “You marry her, and her parents will start visiting all the time. They’ll be all up in your shit, telling you how to live your life.”

“Her parents died in the Fifth Wave,” Louis said. He held her as she wept that night.

“We’ve all lost people,” Peter said. “That’s why it’s better not to get attached.”

“I love her, man.”

Peter huffed pulled back and realigned his footing. “I don’t know who lied to you, but this world wasn’t built for love.”

Louis cringed at Peter’s stubbornness. Arguing with the man was useless—he was as stubborn as he was slow in an airboat. Bending over, he scooped up the Mardi Gras beads and shoved them into his pocket.

Peter reached out again. Adjusting his footing worked. He leaned over and rested his palm on the statue’s head. He looked back at Louis and smiled.

“Keep your Jenny. I know who will be in my thoughts later when I retire with that literature I found.” He wrapped his arm around the statue’s neck and tried to lift her up. “Damn, she’s a tough broad.”

Louis laughed. “Told you.”

“Look, not another word outta—”

The murky water underneath Peter erupted. A large alligator sprung up like gray-green lightning, grabbing his torso with a hiss and glistening white teeth. Peter’s ribs crunched inside the gator’s massive jaws. Screaming, Peter lost his footing on the rail. His body swung with the gator’s weight, but Peter, arms hooked around the indifferent cement stare, would not release the statue. The gator started rolling, bisecting Peter with more crunching and tearing before vanishing in the dark water with the lower half of the man’s body.

 

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Excerpt from UNDERWATER: “Sylvia’s Ashes” by Shannon Rose Leahy

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abyss, breasts, dark waters, Death, excerpt, fantasy, horror, mermaids, myth, ocean, Panama City Beach, paranormal, post-adolescent madness, shannon rose leahy, shore, Sylvia, The Saints Go Marching In, Underwater, urban fantasy

He stood on the shore, the full moon’s light shattering into pearl fragments on the ocean’s black face. Sylvia, his darling wife—where in the vast waters had her ashes drifted? Three years had passed since the small and huddled service at the end of the rickety pier, a tinny rendition of “The Saints Go Marching In” huffed out on harmonica while Brendan scattered her ashes into the hungry ocean.

Had her ashes ever wafted pass mermaids, with bare breasts gleaming under the fiery sun, faintly green hair tangled with bright shells, or had they sat in the belly of some gray, dull-eyed fish?

Her funeral changed the ocean. How many more charred human remains churned in those dark waters? The thought of people splashing in that salty brine, shaking the brew of his wife out of their ears and wringing her out of bikinis made his stomach tighten into a hard fist.

The great watery abyss still shattered heart. A selfish, careless instant stole his darling Sylvia from this world. A bloated car full of spring breakers from Alabama, hell bent on partying in putrid Panama City Beach, collided with her motorcycle. During spring break traffic, the streets were paved with beer cans and condom wrappers. Drunken, sun-brunt twenty-somethings hung out the windows, screaming lewd remarks at anything with a pair of breasts. Casualties of alcohol poisoning or falls off fifteen story balconies weren’t anything new to this city. Although heartbroken, it didn’t shock him that post-adolescent madness ended her life.

Excerpt from UNDERWATER: “Ferryman” by Val Prozorova

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accident, anthology, clean underwear, Death, excerpt, ferryman, folklore, half fish, humor, kayaking, merman, myth, New Zealand, paranormal, sea, shark, tenacity, Underwater, underwater sex, urban fantasy, val prozorova

I was nineteen the first time I died.

It happened entirely by accident; I had never kayaked in the sea before, too used to the smooth and still waters of the New Zealand lakes, and the waves overbalanced me. Upside down in the water, two thoughts circled first, the rope meant to hold me certainly did its job, as I could not get the knot undone, and second, I hoped I had on clean underwear. The paramedics have worse to deal with, but it would undoubtedly be embarrassing.

If anyone found me, anyway. The rope still caught in what I quickly understood not to be a wet knot had my lungs burning from my held breath. I made several proclamations in my youth that I wanted to become one with nature. Perhaps, I should have made it clear that I did not mean it quite so literally.

A water baby, swimming from a young age, playing with water, and attempting—pitifully—to draw it, people often joked that I was half fish. They couldn’t be more wrong. No gills on me, just flared nostrils and pursed lips and fumbling fingers against a knot that wouldn’t give.

Crazy thoughts flew through my mind:

How far does the water beneath me go?

Should I look?

Can I turn the boat over by sheer tenacity and hope for the best?

Did I miss that matinee performance?

Like graduation, did I forget to sign up for my own ceremony?

A movement pulled my gaze, desperate enough that I would reach out to a shark for help; perhaps, mercifully, one’s life didn’t flash before their eyes, but their desires did. Because the man swimming towards me now certainly personified many of them. Dark skin, dark eyes, and hair that swelled with the waves themselves, so long that it swept almost like a tail behind him. His effortless motion through the water, entirely graceful, opened my mouth to gasp. Oh, the flaw in that plan.

 

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Excerpt from UNDERWATER: “Beached” by M. Howard

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anthology, cpr, dolphins, dune, excerpt, gills, killer whales, m. howard, mermaids, myth, mythology, naked, nakedness, nipples, paranormal, plump, raven, Ruben, slavic, terrifying, Underwater

The dune circled a brackish pond where fresh water stream met the tide’s ebb and flow, and just breaking the rim, Sal saw hands.

He broke into a dead run, and as he reached the crest, hands became wrists, and wrists lengthened to arms. Incredibly broad shoulders curved into a graceful neck all but obscured by streaming black tresses. She lay face down, crusted with drying patches of sand. Her skin was black—a dull, flat black that shared more with killer whales and dolphins than any African or Negrito he’d ever encountered.

Ruben fluttered overhead, landed on the far side of the pool, and croaked, “Hello!”

Sal ignored his feathered buddy, and gingerly placed a hand between the girl’s shoulders. Her skin was cool and curiously firm to the touch.

“Well, Ruben, let’s have a look at her.” God, but she was heavy. He grasped her right elbow with both hands and applied all his weight to roll her over. He saw with a shock that if her back and arms were black, her front, from her upper lip to her chin and down her throat to her sandy tits, was ivory white. Indistinct nipples bulls eyed ivory aureoles without the slightest of color variation. His eyes involuntarily traced her nakedness down to an ivory “outee” of a navel. He stared dumbly at what should have been Venus Mons, but was instead a smooth plumpness which tapered down in curves unbroken by knees or feet, to curve out again into a largish ovoid paddle of a tail.

Ruben croaked “Ouch!” and fluttered his feathers.

“Ouch my ass, Ruben. It’s a…she’s a…” Sal was nothing if not a pragmatist. He straddled her waist and pressed an ear to her right breast. Nothing. He interlaced the fingers of his left hand into those of his right and tried to remember his emergency first aid training. He looked over at Ruben. “What’s the count? Was it five?”

Ruben bobbed his beak. “Perfect.”

“One, two, three, four, five.” Sal unlocked his fingers and moved in to position for the next step.   He wasn’t sure what he might be liable to catch, but he was sure it wouldn’t be any of the terrifying viruses plaguing the single set nowadays. After all, how could a mermaid catch mono? Or any other human-transmitted disease? He examined her face. The black coloration painted her high forehead, broad and vaguely Slavic cheek bones, and fleshy button of a nose, which squeezed off tiny nostrils. Sal called over to Ruben. “Let’s see. Clear the airway; wait, what if she has gills?”

Rubin jerked his beak up and down. “God damn it!”