Thea Stelanofotos

Thea Stelanofotos

Status: Finished

Genre: Thrillers


Status: Finished

Genre: Thrillers


Come ride out with a real adventurer to work at an archaeological field school on a far away, enchanted Aegean island. Stand by him on furlough while he takes a shot-in-the dark chance and finds the love of his life in the daughter of a local wealthy business baron, Thea. Hold his hand when tragedy strikes due to the action of an evil extortionist surgeon. Taste the thrill of revenge, only to fly away with him as he escapes the clutches of a corrupted system hot in pursuit!
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Come ride out with a real adventurer to work at an archaeological field school on a far away, enchanted Aegean island. Stand by him on furlough while he takes a shot-in-the dark chance and finds the love of his life in the daughter of a local wealthy business baron, Thea. Hold his hand when tragedy strikes due to the action of an evil extortionist surgeon. Taste the thrill of revenge, only to fly away with him as he escapes the clutches of a corrupted system hot in pursuit!

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter one

Author Chapter Note

The opening scene

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 14, 2017

Reads: 33

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 14, 2017



Thea' Selenofotos

From Nymphania On The Hill


By H.L. Dowless


She was as an enchanting river of flowing moonlight, the manner in which she stood poised and fearless even in light of what existed as tangible, yet still standing in the distant beyond and imperceptible; but still the aura of her exterior being encompassed by an easy, tranquil, benevolent composure...., the very mortal souls could only pause to behold the bewitching manner in which she spoke with a voice of flowing water and gentle whispering wind. Her suitors were immediately mesmerized upon the very emergence of her form sauntering across the greeting threshold of her talented father's opulent colonnaded marble mansion estate. Her smile.....her captivating smile alone....bore the depth of her soul sailing within the anesthetizing river aura of the midnight moon, to capture and instantly seduce the yearning heart of any suitor who only paused to momentarily woo....

...Indeed there were many who paused, then were enraptured by her dazzling beauty, the very charm of her personality. Poor and prosperous alike dared to visit, each and every one putting forth the right foot of his best offering, the apex of his finest self, but any show of secular blessing carried with it not any show of gratitude in her composure or arousal in her inner yearning. She was already in possession of all that secular coin could ever hope to provide her with. Though she was politely thankful for the offerings, her inner desire was much more for enlightened intellectual wisdom and a genuine creativity originating forth from the innermost depths of the soul. For it was there within the depths of such enlightenment, that she knew she would be most certain to discover the conceptual sparks of sure love; and to her, this spark alone carried with it more light unto her embracing soul than the glitter that any show of prosperity could ever hope to bestow. In her mind it was that she well knew, that the glitter of secular prosperity could dim through sudden loss of fortune, leaving her with only the prevailing question of where it was that true love was to stand then; for in her mind she was to reason, what was it that could be, if in all honest truth, it never even existed there in the first place?

Maybe in fact, so reasoned she, such a hollow suitor sought only to purloin her inherited fortune, then casting her quivering body aside into the sweltering dust of the distant cobblestone street, only to die a lonely forlorn death of deprivation and endless want. Such misfortune had certainly been known to occur in the recent past, and it most always happened when all others about reasoned that it should not and could not ever, and the justified fear of it being so, reasoned only by all of them...., as being misplaced and unfounded....

I can recall vividly from amid the haze of elation in recollection.... the very day that I rode into her home town on a tarnished stallion, once soiled but now purged through an obvious diligent effort on my own part. I was not yet aware of her existence, but bore the feeling of a certain future success deep inside my breast. The general feeling was of a gambler's hint in premonition, that success in venture was soon to be within his present possession. Ahead there was a certain rise in the topography, a hill overlooking the quaintly large Aegean town, if you will. On that hill facing the town, with the clear ultramarine sea to it's backside, stood the opulent mansion estate of her exalted father. Radiating forth from this grand estate was an aura of hazy golden light, an emanating beam born first from the bizarre misty glow of the midday sun and the translucent marble calcimine of the mansion itself, then combining with a backward reflection from the clear cerulean gloomy reflection of light from the gently surging sea behind; all instantaneously combining to generate a dazzling aura that tended to blanket both the mind and the soul of any mortal who only paused there in the sand to behold the near immaculate portrait, even at a distance from beyond. Later on I heard many a claim that the same elation in portrait was to be felt even while out at sea, but of that as a fact, I know not.

My thoughts at the time were only of home, my family, my parents, my sister's birthday soon coming and the birthday of my dear mother. I rode onward until the sand outlying the town transformed into the carefully laid granite of ancient cobblestone, the unorganized footpaths soon transforming into highly organized but somewhat narrow streets. Soon automobiles were singing passed, though I still moved forward while upon the back of my broken pony. My clothes consisted of sand splotched drifter's sheets, those of the wilderness nomads who so proudly roam the seemingly boundless island sands abroad. About the crown of my head wrapped a wine hued turban, pined ever so delightfully by an ancient artifact brooch of the purest, I should say, nearly translucent gold. The golden brooch bearing the smiling radiant face of good fortunes' spectrum, whose form was one always to be held in treasured reverence, according to the island nomads. This brooch I had picked up amid the many ruins of those numerous time honored kingdoms now long since forgotten. Only the sand piles with the movement of the continuous wind and the howling jackals still dwell therein. Not even the buzzards dare to pass overhead due to the prevailing emptiness of the sand swept tree scattered expanse.

I continued to ride along until I came into the shopping plazas on the outskirts of the island town. There the shops were on either side of the narrow cobble stoned road, their gaping amphora and wicker baskets filled with spices, opiate tinctures, various local wines and special brandies spiked with narcotic herbs or curious mystery poppy tinctures of one sort or another. Some of these baskets were filled with local shop crafted amulets and jewelry, others filled with ancient artifacts collected by the desert nomads and sold to the shop keepers in bundle packages for a lump sum, only to be purchased by obvious English or European tourists, such as myself, for inflated sums as individual piece purchases. Along the walls hung obvious loom crafted, almost Arabic and immaculate Persian rugs. Dismal appearing but smiling shop keepers always arising to stand upon my passing, pointing at specific items and announcing their latest sales pitch, my reply always being “Konta, alla den einai arketa', isos mia alli mera?

Some of the shopkeepers would then throw the handfuls of their own selected items back into the display containers, their composure transforming suddenly from a melancholy pleasant into a harsh, unaccommodating demeanor.

“But you always say that,” they would scream! “Maybe tomorrow, maybe later on, oh..,but what about today,” they would ask in a seething, near rage? “We have families to feed! We need money today, right here and now! If you Englishmen cannot make reasonable purchase, then we will be forced to charge a toll for the simple right to use our streets, since it costs us to keep them maintained, and all of us here know well that you people possess just a bit more than that which provides for basic necessity, to give in name of the maintenance effort spent.”

“I have to make a decision as to what it is that I desire. Show me something of adequate charm at a reasonable rate of purchase, and I will gladly make the exchange,” I would reply.

Two or three of them exited their shops, standing about before me to tactfully block my path, but to engage a negotiating conversation simultaneously. I also felt that they were simply feeling out my inner demeanor, to investigate if any air of superiority infected my innermost thoughts, as well as to test my reaction to their imposing posture.

“We have shown you all that we have to offer here. What is it that you are in search of,” they all asked?

“I must admit here, I am in search of something... that is not what your average western tourist is in search of...Shall we say...something both ancient but yet holds the key to a present experience that goes far beyond what is usual. I want something that will lead to a daring experience, one of an enchanting enlightenment, if you will. The usual trinkets, charms, the intoxicating herbs...the stuff of the usual tourists' delight..., to be quite honest with you..., does absolutely nothing for me,” I replied to them in earnest.

“Well be out with it, man... What is it that you desire? How can we provide it to you,” they so harshly replied to me out of their frustration?

“It is like this,” I replied to them. “Just pretend for a moment...just pause here and pretend. If moonlight were an enchanting woman, then I want to hold her hand and be whisked away by her into another dimension... maybe for all eternity, indeed.., if I shall find her standing to my own delight. I want an element, I guess it is that I am trying to say, that will give me the key to the unattainable, that one of every secret desire in which the individual is both aware of and unaware at the same time...”

As we engaged in a conversation that was soon heating up, with half insisting on charging me a toll and the other half demanding that I make purchase of one type or another, a grayed and grizzled, long haired beggar hobbled up from the squalor beyond, pausing within the midst of the crowd, bringing the metal capped end of his six foot cedar staff down hard upon the ancient cobblestone of the dismal street beneath their sandal shod feet and the bare hooves of my poor spent stallion now with the fading grace of a plowman's pony at the close of a very long day.

“What is it that you want, old man,” they all turned to him and asked? “What brings you out into our street here today? Is it your desire for a crumb or a cast away scrap of some sort from this English miser poised so here before us?”

The old beggar simply smiled in his reply...

“Certainly it is the one, I, who indeed can accomplish what the ten of you cannot..”

“And pray thee, what in Hades name is it, that the likes of you so boldly boast of being, that is so far beyond all of our capacity to produce,” all of them glared upon him in request as they laughed in derision?

“Well lets get down to business here...I can give the man here what he wants and all of you standing here, still have yet to even deduce a logical conclusion as to just what that something is...”

“Well do tell us then, old man of little means, just what that something is that you posses, in which you stand there are making so much of ?”

The old beggar stood, continuing to smile from within his chest length, snow beard of flowing white.

“Let it be said here today, that if I was to give my secret away, then so shall my profit fly..., forsooth..., away from my grasp and unto thine...! So on that note, I shall make my first address unto the Englishman alone saddled there before us...”

“O.K....,” I replied. “Lets get on with the offer, and I shall now lend you my thankful ear.”

“Just what is it, specifically, that you are so much in search of,” he proceeded to inquire?

“Well,” said I. “I am in search of what it was that I just told the crowd there of...I want an unusual experience, unlike any other sought by Englishmen or tourist in general.”

“Aye...”spoke the beggar. “That much I comprehend, and of course it all involved the hand of a delicate princess of one sort or another, if I shall recall right?”

“Some could surmise that much out of what I said, I guess,” I replied.

“Then son.., nothing comes without work...You cannot just pay simple coin for what it is that you are in search of..; indeed you must labor for what you are in search of.”

“Fine then, what must I do,” I replied?

“Compose a love poem that would enrapture a delicate cherub spirit. I shall then, take it to the angel who shall determine if it beguiles her into allowing your entrance into her palace door. If it does, then she shall offer me her golden key. If it does not, then she shall simply refuse it and send me away in disgrace. Let it be known here today, good sir, that disgrace is never my fear, since daily disgrace being simply any beggar's lot to endure.”

“If she does accept my poem, then what must I offer you for negotiating the arrangement,” I asked?

“Never mind that..She will offer me my reward for finding her the proper suitor. You do not have to concern yourself with that specific value.”

“Sounds like a perfect offer,” I replied. “Could I then find my own fortune with the woman? A man with a fine woman and no fortune, is simply not much to base a life happily ever after on.”

“You compose the hexing poem for her, then we shall simply just go on from there. Meet me back here at high noon tomorrow, and have the poem ready for me and I shall take care of the rest,” he said.

Before I exited the plaza for the day, I did pick up what appeared to be a few antique Sumerian deity statuettes and a couple of turquoise Arabian amulets, just to mail out back to the family at home for their birthday presents and general gifts of my remembrance. That night by the fireside while camping in the sands just on the outskirts of town, I composed my wording for the mesmerizing poem. The poem went something like this, to the best of my rum tainted memory:


Ode To A Fairy Sprite


Upon the gentle winds of the midnight moonbeams she flew,

more the composure of heavenly seraph than any mortal may ever dare to boast;

directly into my heart she moved with the strength of an immortal few,

only to whisk my dreary soul away onto some enchanted lunar sea coast,

to savor those treasured pleasures that lay far beyond

© Copyright 2017 H.L. Dowless. All rights reserved.

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