“The highest branch of solitary amusement is reading; but even in the choice of books the fancy is first employed; for in reading, the heart is touched, till its feelings are examined by the understanding, and the ripening of reason regulate the imagination. This is the work of years, and the most important of all employments.� Mary Wollstonecraft, Original stories from real life; with conversations, calculated to regulate the affections, and form the mind to truth and goodness.
EDITION 4 ISSUE 1 FEBRUARY 2020
Hello and welcome to twenty-twenty; a
Electric Press plans to bring you even
new year and the start of a new
more exciting and diverse literary
decade, which looks very exciting from
insights, interesting essays, amazing
Electric Press's viewpoint because we
offers, and fun articles throughout the
have so much to bring you.
year, so now is the time to share
In this edition alone we feature Mary
Electric Press with your family, friends,
Wollenscraft, often referred to as the
colleagues and associates as well as to
original suffragette, help Electric
your social networks so they too can
Eclectic launch the Novella Fiction Prize
enjoy all we have to bring.
- a superb writing competition where
Besides, Electric Press is free to read, so
the winners have their work published,
what are you waiting for?
have the opportunity to support Vision
We are always open to ideas and
2020, a global initiative for the
suggestions to help us improve Electric
elimination of avoidable blindness, find
Press, so please, feel free to contact us
exciting books from established and
and comment. We really do read all the
new writers, read fantastic author
letters and emails sent to us and love
interviews, examine what it means to
hearing from you.
collect 'first books', learn how to write a quality book review, and we visit some fantastic holiday destinations for book lovers‌ and a whole bunch of
Enjoy this, the February edition of Electric Press. Paul, Editor.
other 'stuff' too.
2020
Inside this edition Inside this edition Inside this edition Page 5 First Books Article Page 10 Boys will be boys Book choice Page 14 It’s for You Short Story Page 22 Why the World is Speaking English Article Page 27 Float Micro Fiction
Page 28 Literary Destinations Travel Article Page 36 Coming of Age Life Article Page 40 The Moon Hunters Book Review Page 44 Our Cover Story Feature
Page 48 Out on the Tracks Short Story Page 54 Writing for Charity Anthologies Article Page 58 A Gran Tour Author Interview Page 64 Mystery of Missing People Article
Page 70 The Dilemma Short Story Page76 I am a Bookworm Insight Article Page 78 Earth – A true story
The stories Within the Invisible Pentacle vary widely; some will make you laugh aloud. Some nod in agreement and understanding. Others will make you shiver with apprehension or fear, while a few may bring tears to your eyes and build a lump in your throat. Each tale is written with consideration for our fragile human disposition, the fears, the dreams and wishes, the uncertainties and self-doubts we all carry inside ourselves, the human elements of love, of life and for personal survival‌ or simple resignation to our fate.
m y b o o k .t o / w t i p e n ta c l e
Celebrated authors and the Unknown writer When collecting first books, one is often dealing
manifestation of an authors work to be
with an author's scarcest work both in terms of
published, which can be a short story or a
sheer numbers; first novels typically have a
collection of such, poetry, a novella or novelette,
smaller print run than subsequent books, (once
fact, semi-fiction or fiction.
the author is established) and because,
The reason for collecting literary first editions,
historically, a smaller number of copies are likely
including first books, should not be primarily
to survive.
financial. There are safer bets if one is looking for
Standing orders from libraries account for a
return on investment. The reason for collecting
significant percentage of total sales of literary
first editions resides in what underlies the
works in the U.S. The smaller first print run also
monetary value of the artefact, which is the
means fewer copies are then available for the
intangible "value" of the books themselves
rest of the book trade. (Library books, because
The important criterion of what is collectible,
the way they are marked, glued, pocketed, etc.,
ultimately, is whether the item in question has
are generally ruled unfit for collecting as rare
specific meaning for you and enhances your
books).
appreciation of life. For some people, artwork,
Also, copies of a first book do not go directly into
ceramics, lamps or even bank notes do that; for
the rare book trade or the collector's market
others, books do, and collecting books makes
unless the book is an instant success, so, by the
sense. In the end, you create your library and
time an author is "established," natural attrition
your library defines you. Collecting the authors
will have taken its toll.
whose work speaks directly to your heart is the
Oh, first books do not always mean a 'Debut
"safest" course, because it ensures your
Novel' or a 'First Edition', but the first physical
collection will always be valuable, regardless of what others would pay for the books you own.
Authors 'firsts'
is considered "valuable" in some intangible way; its first edition, being the earliest example
The fame of authors included herein varies widely: some are names virtually everyone knows; others are writers few people have any knowledge of‌ yet.
of this significant, or valuable, work tends to be considered valuable in an artefactual way and, like any artefact, the scarcer the item and the more widely it is appreciated, the more expensive it is to acquire.
First works must stand on their own merit
rather than rely on their authors' reputations.
The same is true for first books: every published author has a first book. What makes
The quality varies substantially: some, like Margaret Mitchell's 'Gone With the Wind' and Harper Lee's 'To Kill a Mockingbird', became instant classics, winning literary awards and becoming perennial bestsellers; others, like Edward Abbey's 'Jonathan Troy', Tobias
a first book valuable, generally, is either the book itself made an impact or the book's author later came into prominence for some other work(s), thereby retroactively, as it were, establishing the "importance" of their first book.
Wolff's 'Ugly Rumours', John Cheever's 'The Way Some People Live' and Tracy Kidder's 'The Road to Yuba City', were later viewed by their authors as examples of youthful indiscretion or folly (and virtually disavowed), never coming
Several world-renowned authors have very modest first books, which gave little indication of the eventual esteem in which the authors would be held.
back into print even after their authors became
Ernest Hemingway's first book, a small
well-established literary figures.
pamphlet published in Paris and called,
Some, like Mitchell's and Lee's, were the only books the authors produced during their lifetime; most often, however, first books signal the start of long and productive literary career.
unpretentiously, "Three Stories and Ten Poems", was issued in an edition of 300 copies, most of which seem to have disappeared by the time his first novel, 'The Sun Also Rises', was published and he began a literary ascent
Someone once pointed out the one thing all
culminating in his being acclaimed, in his own
books share is they had a first edition.
lifetime, as the greatest American writer ever.
So it is not that a book is found in its first
Similarly, William Faulkner's first book, 'The
edition, per se, which makes it valuable; rather,
Marble Faun', was published in an unheralded,
it is the book itself made a significant impact
small, fragile edition limited to approximately
(or its author did) consequently the book itself
500 copies, few of which have survived.
Both books are now worth around $20,000
areas of experience that might otherwise have
because of their rarity and because of their
remained hidden and made them accessible to
"importance" as the earliest published works
large numbers of contemporary readers,
by two of the greatest American writers, both
broadening our horizons and expanding our
of whom went on to become Nobel Prize
cultural consciousness.
winners. Others have won prizes recognizing the value Another scenario, but also typical of first books,
of their work or, as in the case of an
applies to John Steinbeck's novel, 'The Cup of
idiosyncratic writer like Edward Abbey, simply
Gold'. It received mixed reviews, at best, upon
pursued a personal vision with enough
publication and sold poorly. The total sales
relentlessness and persuasiveness as to in
amounting to only about 1500 copies, many of
effect create a new category of awareness; in
which went to libraries.
Abbey's case, the idea of the social, and even
The rest of the first printing sat in storage,
spiritual, value of wilderness, (which in
unsold and, indeed, unbound until years later,
American literature dates back to Thoreau and
after Steinbeck's literary reputation was firmly
beyond), was extended to include the
established, when the remainder were bound
seemingly barren desert Southwest and the
up and issued by a new publisher.
notion of the intrinsic value of wilderness itself,
Consequently, the true first edition is extremely
of all kinds, is now a truism.
scarce.
These writers have made a difference. Their
These days, the unsold books would have been
books have helped shape the consciousness of
remaindered or, if no one wanted them,
our times.
pulped. Since the advent of collecting modern first The question of what first books to collect has no simple, single answer. Works that have left a mark on our literature and have influenced our culture and, thus, by extension, the way we look at the world.
editions; a practice dated to the time of the Great Depression, when book collections in more traditional fields failed to maintain the values they had achieved in the heady economic times of the Twenties, personal taste
Some, like Hemingway or Steinbeck or
has been as much a determinant of
Fitzgerald, are universally considered classics;
collectability as the more traditional criteria,
other, younger writers, like Tim O'Brien or
including antiquity, scholarly significance and
Leslie Silko, have taken particular events or
breakthrough technologies.
Auction catalogues from the late Twenties and
interest in his earlier work. (All the Pretty Horses
early Thirties show a healthy interest in such
had hardcover sales more than ten times
writers as Conrad and Galsworthy, Faulkner and
greater than all five of his previous books
Steinbeck, all of whom, except for Conrad, were
combined).
still writing at the time.
Similarly, Anne Tyler's first several books were
The "prices realized" can be instructive:
published in editions of 5000 or so, whereas
Galsworthy's books commanded much more
today her books have print runs of 100,000 or
than Conrad's in those days, whereas today the
more. And in the nearly two decades between
reverse is true.
her first book, 'If Morning Ever Comes', and her
Faulkners and Steinbecks could be had, signed,
first bestseller, 'Dinner at the Homesick
for a few dollars. Today, however, even
Restaurant', the supply of her early titles in
unsigned Faulkners and Steinbecks from the
collectible condition simply dried up.
Thirties sell for hundreds of dollars; signed
'If Morning Ever Comes' in some cases, like
copies can bring thousands.
Hemingway's and Faulkner's, an author's first
The comparison to today's authors should not
book was published by a small press, well
be overlooked: some of today's younger writers
before he or she could catch the interest of the
will become the Faulkners and Fitzgeralds of
major publishers. Occasionally such books can
their day, the writers who most fully capture an
become readily available when the author has a
essential element of their time, preserve it for
breakthrough, because the press was so small
posterity and connect it with the fundamental
they didn't sell out the original book, and copies
human experience, as was the case with
remain warehoused until there is more demand
Faulkner's and Hemingway's and Steinbeck's
for them.
first books, the first books by today's young
However, it is far more common for a first book
writers are likely to be lost in the buzz and hype
done by a small press to become exceedingly
of an American publishing industry that releases
difficult to locate retrospectively. Examples
over 100,000 titles a year.
abound, and the greater the length of time
Cormac McCarthy's first book, 'The Orchard
between the first book and the later
Keeper', while not as scarce as 'The Marble
"breakthrough," the more difficult the job of
Faun' or 'Three Stories and Ten Poems',
finding the author's first book.
nonetheless, over a quarter century faded into
The question of whether these books' value will
obscurity before his novel 'All the Pretty Horses'
last is a legitimate one. There's no certain
won the National Book Award and the National
answer since the verdict of history has not yet
Book Critics Circle Award and stimulated
been rendered on today's writing.
Much discussion and argument can take place
Press' you will find many independent authors
about which works will, or won't, survive.
and those utilising the services of small press
Many important figures of 19th century
publishers. Each of these authors have 'first
literature have faded into obscurity over the
books' available. Some still have the first
years; others, like Melville, whose literary
editions of these first books for sale at
reputation was resurrected in the 1920s,
standard book prices.
decades after his death, are now viewed as key
Any one of these authors, these 'Unknown
figures of their time.
writers' could be the next literary celebrity and
Will John Barth and Margaret Atwood be
you could be the proud owner of a first edition
more likely to be read a hundred years from
of their first book.
now, or Anne Rice and Stephen King? No one
Of course, the above refers to real books,
knows.
physical books, whether Hardcover, Paperback
However, Allen and Pat Ahearn, in their
or Pamphlet. No electronic file, a so called
volume 'Book Collecting: A Comprehensive
'eBook'. can hold any instinct value or be
Guide' (NY: Putnam, 1995), tracked a list of
considered a first published book, simply
more than 200 collected authors for whom
because it is not.
accurate price records existed in the late Thirties and early Forties and found that 50 years later all but 8 of the authors were still widely collected and the values of their first editions had appreciated at a rate quadrupling the Cost of Living Index. The combination of scarcity and literary significance will always be a primary determinant of price, because the latter fuels demand and the former limits supply. First books in general tend to be scarce; first books by significant literary authors may well represent one of the safest bets in collecting modern literature. Within the pages of each edition of 'Electric
Check out some 'first books' here.
B OYS
WILL BE BOYS ‌
(must read books for boys men) 10 books which should appeal to most men, (and a ton of women too!) about doing all those 'outdoorsy' adventurous and survive-in-the-wilderness types of things we grew up reading about in comic books.
Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe, is the
The Jungle Book, by Rudyard Kipling, is
classic "stranded on a desert island" book.
actually a collection of short stories by Kipling
The protagonist, Robinson Crusoe, "chronicles his
published in the 1890s.
daily battle to stay alive, as he conquers isolation,
Set in India, the stories are actually fables in which
fashions shelter and clothes, enlists the help of a
talking animals are used to teach a moral. The
native islander who he names 'Friday', and fights
most famous of these stories are about the
off cannibals and mutineers."
abandoned "man cub" Mowgli, a boy raised in the
UK https://amzn.to/2ZQA3Y6
wild by wolves.
USA RobCrusoeDD
UK https://amzn.to/2QKnSZ0 USA JunglebookRK
If you never read any of these when you were growing up, I suggest you do so now. Swiss Family Robinson, by Johann David Wyss,
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, by Mark
is about a shipped-wrecked family that must
Twain, is an American classic.
survive and adapt to life alone on a tropical
Considered "controversial" in today's highly
island.
sensitive, PC-culture because of its honest
Written in the early 1800s, the book is
portrayal or race relations of its day, including
somewhat "off" in certain details of natural
the frequent use of the word "nigger," this book
history (for example, an impossibly wide range
should be mandatory reading for every school
on animals are native to the island). However,
kid, but often avoided. However, the book's
this is still a classic tale of family adventure and
protagonist is solidly anti-racist, as is the book's
survival.
overall theme.
UK https://amzn.to/2MTULBp
UK https://amzn.to/2sDs30N
USA SwissFamWyss
USA HFINNTwain
Old Yeller, by Fred Gipson. Yes, this is the book the Disney movie is based on. A timeless American classic and one of the most beloved children’s books ever written, Old Yeller is a Newbery Honor Book that explores the poignant and unforgettable bond between a boy and the stray dog who becomes his loyal friend.
Little House in the Big Woods, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, is the first of the Little House on the Prairie books.
UK https://amzn.to/2FlwrnD
Sometimes considered a 'girl's book' because it is told from the point of view of Laura Ingell, the story is really about the life and struggles of an American pioneer family in the 1870s. Pioneering life is hard, with plenty of adventures to keep things interesting.
USA YellerGipson
UK https://amzn.to/36qcF6u USA LittleBigWilder
The Call of the Wild and White Fang, both by
Stormy, by Jim Kjelgaard, is a fantastic
Jack London, are set in Canada during the
adventure story about a boy, Allan Marley, and
Klondike Gold Rush of the 1890s.
Stormy, an abused dog accused of turning on its
Full of dogs, wolves, adventure, and survival,
master.
these fast-paced books will hold the attention of
I won't give away too much of this story, but
most boys, while teaching positive themes of
basically the two have some amazing adventures
morality and redemption.
and ultimately save each other.
UK https://amzn.to/2tyhlbD
UK https://amzn.to/2QJeswR
USA WildLondon
USA StormyJim
Big Red: The Story of a Champion Irish Setter
Not an adventure novel, but rather a wide-
and a Trapper's Son Who Grew Up Together,
ranging collection of articles on topics of
Roaming the Wilderness, is another book by Jim
particular interest to boys, The Dangerous Book
Kjelgaard (too often forgotten as a great author
for Boys, by Conn Iggulden, is a book I wish I had
of young adult adventure books).
when I was growing up.
The rather long title pretty much sums up this
Topics covered include essential gear for boys,
book. All of Kjelgaard's books are must-reads for
paper airplanes, the seven wonders of the
boys, in my opinion.
ancient world, the 5 knots every boy should
UK https://amzn.to/39EJFtO USA BigRedJim
know, dinosaurs, making a bow and arrow, understanding grammar, famous battles, first aid, cloud formations, astronomy, navigation, the Declaration of Independence, building a workbench, and seven poems every boy should know, among many others. UK https://amzn.to/2QsePwV USA DangbookIgg
The Daring Book for Girls, by Andrea J. Buchanan.
The manual for everything that girls need to know--and that doesn't mean sewing buttonholes! Whether it's female heroes in history, secret note-passing skills, science projects, friendship bracelets, double dutch, cats cradle, the perfect cartwheel or the eternal mystery of what boys are thinking, this book has it all. But it's not just a guide to giggling at sleepovers--although that's included, of course! Whether readers consider themselves tomboys, girly-girls, or a little bit of both, this book is every girl's invitation to adventure. UK https://amzn.to/2uemLZO USA DaringGirlBuch
It’s for You A short story by Stevie Turner
The display screen verifies my mother, who
“Yeah.” I nod. “But indeed! This is the second time
departed this life in a rage of pain two years ago,
it’s happened, and I’ve missed both of them!”
has once again tried, unsuccessfully, to call me
Mum’s image flashes momentarily into my
from a phone I consigned to a skip back in 2017
thoughts. Even after two years, it’s hard to come
when I cleared her house.
to terms with the fact cancer wrenched her away.
I fling off my coat, pull the cordless phone out of its
Bob takes the phone from me and stares at the
holder and stare at Mum’s number in disbelief. Her
screen again.
phone was accidentally immersed in water or
“Perhaps someone picked it up from the landfill?”
dropped onto hard flooring so many times as to make it virtually useless, but now my own two eyes are telling me something entirely different. “Hey, how’s it going?” I turn around, mouth still agape, when I hear Bob’s voice and raise the phone up to his eye level.
“What does that say on there?”
“No.” I shake my head. “She always said she’d come back if she could. This is her way of doing it.” Ever the sceptic, Bob makes his I-don’t-believe-aword-you’re-saying tut of disapproval. “Don’t get your hopes up, Carrie.” But that’s where he’s wrong. I just know my mother is trying to contact me from the other side.
Bob squints at the screen and then looks down at
When Bob disappears upstairs, I ring Mum’s
me from his lofty height of 6 feet 2 inches.
number and press the phone close to my ear.
“Er… it says, Mum. But…”
Nothing.
I wait in anticipation for two weeks before the shrill
“Hi, Nan.” I hope Bob cannot hear me. “Do you like
ring and display screen once again informs me
the makeover we gave your grave?”
mother is calling. I have my hands in a bowl of flour
“I ain’t dead, you silly moo.” Nan’s raspy voice
and margarine and dash for a cloth before the
echoes down the phone. “I’m here, with your
phone goes silent. With trembling fingers, I press
mum.”
the green ‘receive’ button. I fail to hear Bob’s footsteps but feel a pinch to my “Mum?”
buttocks.
I can hear a long scratchy sound, like the one old-
“Two sugars in mine, please. Who’s on the phone?”
fashioned gramophone records made when the stylus became stuck.
He wouldn’t believe me if I told him.
“Mum? Can you hear me?” Then the most amazing thing happens. My mother’s
Bob answers the next call.
voice, complete with her execrable East London
“It’s for you.” He holds out the receiver and laughs.
accent, comes down the line loud and clear.
“It says ‘Mum’.”
“Carrie! I ain’t spoken to you in ages!”
He’s listening intently as I start to speak.
I scream and drop the phone. Mum’s voice shouts
“Hello?”
out from the terracotta tiles.
“I thought about speaking to you again so, here I
“Bloody ‘ell! What was that noise?”
am.”
Slowly in stupefied shock, I stoop to pick it up.
Mum’s voice is unmistakable. I look at Bob and
“Where are you?”
There’s a throaty chuckle in my ear. “I’m anywhere I want to be. Right now I’m standing in Nan’s garden. Nan says hello.” My kitchen looks the same as it always does. There’s a mixing bowl of dough on the worktop and the kettle has just boiled. Steam issues from the
shrug. “It’s Mum.” “Yeah, of course, it’s Mum.” My mother butts in as she always used to do. “Who else calls me Mum? Only you!” “What?” Bob’s face is a picture. “Let me speak to her.”
spout, next to it stands a mug with a teabag inside.
I pass the phone over to him, excited to see his
It’s all reassuringly familiar, except now I’m talking
response.
to my mother, who has no earthly body. She, in
“Dottie?” He gives me a blank stare. “Dottie? Is that
turn, is with my grandmother, who died in 1967 and
you?”
is buried in the East London Cemetery.
He thrusts the receiver back in my hand.
“You need your bumps felt. There’s nobody there.” But there is. Mum’s roar of laughter makes me smile. “I ain’t speaking to ‘im. Not now I know what he’s done.” My heart begins to race. “And what’s that?”
Bob shakes his head at me, twists his forefinger against the side of his temple, and walks out. Mum coughs the cigarette-soaked rattle which eventually carried her off. “That’s a funny old game of darts he’s playing every Thursday night. He’s certainly scoring a bullseye though.”
It’s Thursday evening. Has Bob gone for drill practice? He left with a cheery wave and his darts just like he’s always done. Mum hasn’t rung since her last announcement and I’m restless. I cannot settle to my soaps. Instead, I slide Brokeback Mountain into
Yes, Bob always had his night at the pub with his
the DVD player and wonder for the umpteenth time
boozy pals for years.
whether Bob is my Ennis Del Mar.
It gives me a few hours’ peace to watch all the
I hate the ending and turn it off at the turkey
soaps I record and save up for just the occasion. I
dinner, then grab my coat and bag and head out
feel a bit sick as I pipe up with a reply.
towards The Fox & Firkin. If Mum is yanking my
“Has he got another woman then?”
chain from beyond the grave, then Bob will give me
“Er…not exactly,” Mum answers straight away. “If
a strange look as I walk in, then carry on with his
you really want to know… he bats for the Middlesex
darts match.
Regiment.”
It’s spitting with rain; the pub is half empty. I give a
“You mean he’s gay?” My voice rises with the
wave to the landlord, who is drying glasses behind
incredulity of it all. “Bob is gay?”
the bar.
“As a daffodil, my dear.”
“Hi, Ray. Has Bob been in?”
The familiar scratchy stuck stylus noise assaults my
Ray shakes his head.
ear, and Mum has gone.
“No. Haven’t seen him for ages.”
I flop down onto a chair and exhale forcefully. I
Several regulars look up from their pints and stare
don’t know what to do.
at me with interest. I feel my face redden. “Okay, never mind.”
I run home and pick up the phone. Bob’s mobile
“Yeah, great.” He gives me a squeeze. “Three
number is unavailable. Alarmed, I do something
bullseyes.”
I’ve never even thought of doing before; I hunt
It’s good to have him home. As we sink into sleep
through his wardrobe, his chest of drawers and
it occurs to me whatever Bob may or may not be,
his writing desk. I find nothing, although I don’t
he has been a fantastic husband to me for over
know what I’m looking for.
twenty-five years. He has his night out every
It’s gone midnight when he returns and I’m still
Thursday, although I suddenly realise he never
wide awake. I hear the shower running, then he
smells of beer when he comes home. We have a
creeps into bed beside me. There is a pleasant
good life together, and if he has anything to
aroma of shower gel and shampoo.
confess, I know he will tell me when he’s ready.
“Sorry to wake you up.”
Mum has never called me since. I expect she’s
“That’s okay,” I reply. “Had a nice evening?”
sulking.
Stevie Tu r n e r Stevie Turner grew up in the East End of London and was fortunate enough to attend an excellent primary school which encouraged creative writing. After winning an inter-schools’ writing contest, Stevie began to
keep a diary and often added little stories and poems to it as the years went by. However, she did not take up writing seriously until 2013. By this time her two sons had left home and she had more time to herself. Stevie has now written 11 novels, 6 novellas, 1 memoir, and 18 short stories, winning a New Apple Book Award in 2014 and a Readers’ Favorite Gold Award in 2015 for her third novel ‘A House Without Windows’. You can find details of all her books on her website http://www.stevie-turner-author.co.uk Stevie still lives in the same picturesque Suffolk village that she and husband Sam moved to in 1991 with their two boys. One of her short stories, ‘Lifting the Black Dog’, was published in ‘1000 Words or Less Flash Fiction Collection’ (2016). She has also written an article ‘Look on the Bright Side of Life’ which was included in the 2016 book ‘They Say I’m Doing Well’ which are articles about mental illness, proceeds of which go to the charity MIND. Her screenplay ‘For the Sake of a Child’ won a silver award in the Spring 2017 Depth of Field International Film Festival, and her novel ‘A House Without Windows’ gained interest in 2017 from an independent film production company based in New York.
Pa r t n e r s in T i m e A n o v e l by
S t e v i e Tu r n e r Amazon UK https://amzn.to/2SV343r Amazon USA https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1916012256
John Finbow, a successful writer, and his wife Kay move into Southcombe Rectory, a large Victorian house that has been empty since the 1960s. Previously owned by the Cuthbertson family who had lived there for generations. Their marriage is under strain, as John, 39 would like children before he gets too old, but Kay, 34, does not. When John is working in his study soon after moving in, he is disturbed by the sight of a young woman who appears out of the blue on his sofa. Emily Cuthbertson, whose old bedroom is now John’s study, was 25 at the time of her death and the youngest of 8 offspring of the late Reverend Arthur Cuthbertson and his wife Delia. Emily had died in 1868 but is now unwilling to leave behind her old life on earth, due to having missed out on a family of her own whilst being a companion to her widowed mother. Emily is still desperate for a husband and children, and John is the answer to her dreams. One hundred and thirty years separate them. Will Emily and John’s love survive time’s relentless march?
THE ELECTRIC ECLECTI C NOVELLA FICTION PRIZE 2020 The Electric Eclectic Novella Fiction Prize is a competition for emerging writers and indie
authors. We encourage submissions from all literary fictional genres with no restrictions on theme or subject. The emphasis of the judging will be on ambitious, imaginative and innovative approaches which explore and expand creative writing.
PRIZES INCLUDE A full Paperback publishing package and marketing campaign to support the winning title. Branded eBook publishing for the two runners-up. Design Studio book covers. Professional social media book launch. Managed internet marketing bundle. Marketing material. Web page author bio and book listing. Feature article in International magazine. Book listed on specialist Amazon site. Inclusion into 2021 ‘THE LIST’.
ELECTRIC ECLECTIC Is a decentralised international co-operative alliance, managed by members in various countries around the globe, forming a strong branded synergy of collaborative association specialising in authorship, book branding, publishing, marketing and promotions.
DETAILS Full prize rules and how to enter are on the Electric Eclectic website, http://bit.ly/visitEEbooks Email: EEbookbranding@mail.com
A bit about
‌
Michael Sykes After attending grammar school in
Michael returned to the private sector to
Sheffield, MICHAEL SYKES joined the
join Unilabs UK as the Managing Director
Royal Navy as a junior radio operator.
and then Chairman before deciding to
Following sea-service in HMS Ark Royal, he
travel and work abroad with his wife,
joined the Submarine Service. He was
teaching English and business.
commissioned before leaving the Royal
He started and owned a language school
Navy in his mid-thirties.
and translation agency in Slovenia and was
His last RN appointment, as a Lt Cdr in the
asked by Cambridge University to become
2nd Submarine Squadron, included work
an English language examiner.
on the privatisation arrangements for the Royal Dockyard, Plymouth.
In recent years, he was also the Chairman of an anti-piracy maritime security
His first civilian job was Personnel Director
company and became a published author.
of Bupa Health Services and he was closely
He has spoken at many conferences on
involved in the company's rapid expansion
management subjects, been interviewed by
and recruitment of personnel.
the BBC and had several articles printed in
He was made an Executive Director in the
various papers and journals.
same company, with direct responsibility
Micael has three children, one of whom
for the management of medical centres
was in the armed forces. Members of his
and was then asked to join the National
extended family are still in the armed
Health Service as a Regional Executive
forces. His home is in South Hampshire,
Director, with particular responsibilities for
England, UK.
implementing NHS reforms.
Why the World is Speaking English A Sideways Look How did your interest in this subject (the book) develop? By accident, really, and then it grew gradually. I created a language school in the Balkans as I wanted to do something completely different and I was struck by how many people spoke English. I asked a group of my adult 'students' . . .. why their English was so good? Their answers were always the same: English is easy to learn, PLUS, you need English and most good jobs now demand it - it is a vital career requirement, which is very motivating. This started me thinking about where on earth English had 'come from' when the indigenous Saxons spoke a type of German and the new Normans spoke French - then suddenly, in quite a short time, we were speaking English (in Britain). Why was it an 'easy' language, and how or why it had spread so widely, quietly, unrecognised, uncommented. It is a fascinating and accidental achievement, especially when you think that the British Council say 25% of the world speaks passable English despite competition from Spanish and French so much in the past. It is a remarkable fact that this relatively small island, England, has somehow invented this language gift for the world - a potential world language.
You have travelled the world extensively, have you noticed any countries where there is a resistance to English as a “world Language�? The answer is no, I have not encountered resistance to English as a lingua franca, bridge language, or link language; in fact, the opposite (I'm not keen on the term world language). There is a strong desire to learn and improve. One good example is China. I examine for Cambridge University English language exams. At the beginning of the 2000s, we used to receive few exams from China. This has since exploded and the examiners are now divided into two cadres China marking, and Rest of the World (ROW) marking - there are so many entrants from China it almost overwhelms Cambridge. The Chinese seem determined to learn English. There used to be some haughty resistance in France to English, but this has largely evaporated, especially with the younger generations. It is now a compulsory subject in Spain and Italy (which is remarkable) and in all the East European countries I know. So, rather than resistance, there is tremendous growth in English learning.
You speak about the strengths and controversies surrounding this topic, can you provide a few examples of each? Strengths: • Globalisation, travel, and the explosion in communication has prompted the need for a verbal lingua franca - for business especially. English fills that gap. • Pop and Hollywood movies are more worldwide than people imagine, and it is common to hear people, especially youngsters, articulating popular songs in English. Though they may not always realise what they are singing, they are being familiarised with English. • The BBC is by far the worlds largest foreign broadcaster. The variety of BBC programmes that appear on so many foreign TVs is incredible. I have seen Bob the Builder, 'The Blue Planet', Jamie Oliver, and 'Top Gear' in different foreign countries. Even if they use sub-titles, listeners are still being exposed. I had a young student who spoke such excellent English that I assumed she had lived in an English-speaking country. No, she hadn't, she learnt her English from watching CBeebies (BBC), she told me. • English is easy to learn (I'm repeating this, but it's true). There are no noun genders (everything is 'the'), our verbs are very easy with uncomplicated endings, we don't have to change our words to match gender, and our vocabulary gives choices and many words are derived from other languages. The only difficulty in English is spelling. But, 90% of communication throughout the world is verbal so spelling is not really a problem, especially with spell-checkers. • English is flexible and adaptable. There is no central English language authority and therefore the language adapts to local needs without restraint.
The only potential controversy is the 'cultural' argument, which is a fashionable opinion but, I believe, is nonsense. The argument goes that if the world spoke the same language it would endanger or ruin 'cultures'. I will explain why that is nonsense. Take Spanish. Try telling Mexicans
that their culture is the same as Peruvians because they speak Spanish and they will laugh. Austrians would be very offended if you told them that their culture is the same as the Germans (both speak German). The Syrians have a culture completely different to the Libyans (both Arabic speakers). Try telling a Scot that they have the same culture as Australians (both speak English). Look at it another way. Switzerland has a very well known and powerful culture which is recognisably Swiss, yet they speak German, French and Italian (and Romany) within one small country. It has not inhibited the development of Swiss culture. I firmly believe that language makes no difference to a country's culture except in the minds of those that wish to believe it does. What English does is enable communication and connection.
Are there any other languages that you predict could also be a contender for a “world Language” and explain why? No, I see no contenders. There was once a belief that Spanish might swamp America because of immigration, and it would become a main language, but all the evidence shows that the Spanish speakers that arrive quickly learn English and integrate - it is natural, that is what people like to do - integrate. The advantage that English now has (apart from its ease of learning) is that it has probably reached critical mass - it is so 'large' and widespread it is almost unstoppable.
If the world did adopt a single language (specifically for business communications) do you foresee any ethical implications in terms of cultural diversity and identity? No. This has already been tested. English is the official language for Air traffic, Maritime traffic, and banking, and has been for many years, and there have been no major problems detected in ethics or diversity. In fact, it would be unthinkable if Air traffic did not have one working language, would it not?
Communist and Soviet countries have strict censorship laws and limit their population from using certain communication channels such a social media, do you think these countries are open to the idea of English as a “World Language�?
I have not come across any attempt to control or limit the spread of English in authoritarian countries. I know English is taught well in Russia, Uzbekistan, Slovenia, Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania to name but a few I am familiar with. China is the best example, where it is being positively encouraged, not discouraged.
Two revolutions are happening now in the 21st century. One is the explosion in cross-world communication and travel. The other is the acceleration of English as a world language. Why the World is Speaking English gives facts, opinions, speculation and observations on the growing use of English, its creation, growth and spread, strengths and controversies, competitive advantages, cost benefits, and suggests that now is probably a ripe time for a world language. It can inform, provoke, infuriate and amuse readers, but it is very readable and relevant to the times we live in. A must-read for anyone interested in English, languages, controversies, education or communications.
Why the World is Speaking English - A Sideways Look
ISBN 9781788237369, is available through all good booksellers. Including :
Amazon UK https://amzn.to/2ujEoHD USA https://www.amazon.com/Why-World-Speaking-English-Sideways/ dp/1788237366
https://electriceclecticsblog.wordpress.com/
F L O AT b y
Va n e s s a T h i b e a u l t Flower petals floated to the ground and were
these petals from the unknown.”
picked up again as Anastasia swirled her hand in
She slowly opened her hands and one by one the
their direction. Fluttering her wings, she followed
colourful petals began to sink to the ground, one
the petals up to the top of the clearing and then
landing in each of the bowed fairy’s hands as they
looked down. She could see a gathering of fairies,
stretched them toward the coffin. Together they
all crouched down on their knees. Hands in laps.
stood, petals in hand and laid them on the glass.
Heads bowed. They formed a circle around a glass coffin where a fairy lay with her hands neatly together on her abdomen.
Anastasia looked down once more, then flew through the light leaves into the sky. “Until we meet again, in new bodies, but old souls.” She
“Purple, blue, yellow, red,” Anastasia whispered
closed her eyes as the warmth of the sun
to herself from high above, unknown to the
enveloped her.
others. “All these words, not enough said.” Anastasia pulled her hands to her chest and the flower petals came together to form a tight cloud of colour. “Just as she, from us has flown, shed Vanessa, the mother of two intelligent girls, currently resides in Southern British Columbia where she enjoys warm summers and mild winters, where she can enjoy the outdoors. She is working towards her Bachelor of Arts degree through Thompson Rivers University with a major in English. Vanessa currently runs a daycare from her home and facilitates 0-6 programs in her community. She spends her days reading and gardening; making memories with her children and spending many of her evenings with close friends enjoying good wine and conversation.
She would like to travel and explore the world one day.
Website: www.vanessamthibeault.ca Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/vanessamthibeault
Some Great British literary destinations (thankfully)
far away from London.
B at h Jane Austen wrote Persuasion in the city of Bath,
C h aw t o n n e a r A lt o n , Hampshire
which also happens to be where you can attend the annual Jane Austen Festival which includes country
While most people associate Jane Austen with
dances, calligraphy workshops, dramatic readings, and
the Georgian city of Bath, the author only spent a
a whole lot of bonnets.
few unhappy years there.
You can also visit the Jane Austen Centre, a year-
She spent most of her time at 'Chawton Cottage'
round, a small museum with costumed tours and a
in Hampshire (on the edge of her brother’s estate,
traditional afternoon tea served in the Regency Tea
Chawton House), where she wrote some of her
Rooms.
most famous works, such as Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park,
Emma, and Northanger Abbey. The house is now a museum celebrating her works and still has much of the original furniture, including her writing table and pianoforte.
Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland
H ay - o n - W y e , Wa l e s
Dublin's Trinity College houses the famous Book
Hay-on-Wye is a tiny Welsh village, (population
of Kells, a ninth-century manuscript penned by
under 2,000) basically resembles one giant
monks in amazingly intricate fonts and illustrations, each page is like its own work of art. When you’re done perusing, pay a visit to the library’s Long Room; staring down the 200-
library. The town is famous for its second-hand and antiquarian bookshops, with some stores dedicated entirely to specific genres (including one called "Murder and Mayhem"). Perhaps
foot-long hallway stacked with 200,000 old
its best attraction is the Honesty Bookshop,
books might just give you chills.
an open-air "store" around Hay Castle where all books cost £1 ($1.34) or less.
Elephant House, Edinburgh, Scotland
Cumbria 'Hill Top' is a 17th-century Grade II listed building Near Sawrey near Hawkshead. Set amidst the
There are many places in Edinburgh claim to be
beautiful Lake District of Cumbria, it was once the
associated with J. K. Rowling, but none are as
home of Beatrix Potter. It was here she wrote her
popular as the 'Elephant House'.
enchanting stories of Peter Rabbit.
The children's author and illustrator Beatrix left the
A sign in the window of the cafe proclaims it as
house to the National Trust. It is open to the public as
the “birthplace of Harry Potter.”
the writer's house museum, shown as Beatrix Potter herself would have known it.
It was here Rowling spent hours completing her book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.
Hill Top is a fine example of Lakeland vernacular architecture with random stone walls and slate roof.
H aw k s h e a d , C u m b r i a This little town in the Lake District was home
H aw o r t h , W e s t Yo r k s h i r e Fans of the Brontë sisters, and their works
to William Wordsworth who lived here
such as Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, will
for eight years with his wife Mary and sister Dorothy.
want to check out Haworth in West Yorkshire.
In the nearby countryside, you can see fields of daffodils which inspired his famous poem. Hawkshead has a timeless atmosphere and consists of a characterful warren of alleys, overhanging gables and a series of mediaeval squares. It is eloquently described in William Wordsworth's poem 'The Prelude'.
Aptly named “Brontë Country,” it was where the sisters lived and wrote. Be sure to visit the Brontë Parsonage Museum, the former family home,
and Thornton, a nearby town where they were born. The area is also home to Ponder Hall, a mansion that inspired Wuthering Heights and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, as well as Top Withers, an old farm that was the inspiration for Earnshaw farm in Wuthering Heights.
Have you visited @open24 yet ? @open24 is the Amazon
store
for readers, writers a, booklovers,
bookworms, bibliophiles, writers and authors.
Divided into easily assessable departments, you can find everything from books, children’s books, planners, gifts, tech accessories and more.
All the Electric Eclectic books are here, along with a selection from Dragonfly books and Crimson Cloak Publishing. Find the Essential books every writer and author needs to have in their library, as well as fantastic gifts for readers and writers alike, many hand crafted and personalised. Kindle readers, touch screen stylus, chargers, cases, reading lights and more are all here. Not forgetting to encourage and help your children’s reading. @open24 carries a good range of books for children of all ages. There are great offers and ideas for services too, Fire for Kids, Audible, Prime and Kindle Unlimited. Check them out now
This hilarious MANual is a unique guide aimed at
women who want to gain insight into the mysterious ways that men think and behave. Although you may think this is “mansplaining” gone mad, stick with it because jD exposes the secret desires of men, and how women can exploit this to get what she wants. Using humor instead of boring statistics, the book encourages women to understand the power they innately have over men and
use
this
relationships
to
both
build
happier,
romantically
healthier
and
in
the
workplace.
“If you read beyond those first few chapters, Shapiro begins delving into male minds, covering everything from cavemen, to marriage, to dating, to day to day lives. He does a brilliant job in giving the reader a blueprint idea of men, as it’s key to remember not every man is the same. I learnt a few pointers from Shapiro about what men on average tend to prefer from women, without pushing a sexist agenda, he lets female readers know that he isn't saying ‘if women don't do so and so, men won't like you’ instead, he balances the scales by offering men, or as he describes them: ‘nacho heads’, advice on how men should treat women better also. Without revealing Shapiro's secrets, the book is worth the read for anyone, male or female, looking for something out of the norm, and I'd recommend this to people that are stuck in their comfort zones. They may find an empowering bit of writing in there to get them through the day, or just needing to hear someone else's opinion.” – 5* Review
jD is an award-winning writer, director and comedian. He has sold over a dozen screenplays to almost every major Hollywood studio, including Warner Brothers, Walt Disney, New Line, Miramax and Twentieth Century Fox. Best known for writing the original screenplay for Robin Hood Men in Tights, he has also served as a creative consultant on several films that became major blockbusters. He’s created TV shows for Fox, Big Ticket and Spelling Entertainment. “We
Married Margo,” which jD wrote, directed and stars in gained him notable fans such as George Lucas and it won the Audience Award for Best Film at the HBO Comedy Festival. jD and comic book legend Stan Lee worked together from 2002 to 2017 creating new comic book content. jD is very proud that Stan called him his “Protégé.”
jD is doing a 50 city Think Like A Man Comedy Tour in the United States to promote the book. “One of the greatest comic minds I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with” – Mel Brooks
Amazon UK International Author Website: https://www.jdshapiro.com Publishers website: www.austinmacauley.com
VISION 2020: The Right to Sight was launched
close to, elimination by 2020.
in 1999.
The long-term goal of both the GAP and
It sought to promote: “A world in which
VISION 2020 remain the same – to rid the
nobody is needlessly visually impaired, where
world of avoidable blindness and visual
those with unavoidable vision loss can achieve
impairment. It is a shocking fact that in the
their full potential.”
21st Century there are still some 285m
The Global Initiative was set up to: “Intensify
visually impaired and blind persons and that
and accelerate prevention of blindness
80% of these cases could have been
activities so as to achieve the goal of
prevented or treated.
eliminating avoidable blindness by 2020.”
•
36 million people who are blind
It sought to do this by: “Focussing initially on
•
217 million people with moderate or
certain diseases which are the main causes of
blindness and for which proven cost effective
severe distance vision impairment •
Of those with blindness and MSVI, 124
interventions are available.”
million people have uncorrected
It aims to reduce “prevalence of avoidable
refractive errors and 65 million have
visual impairment by 25% by
cataract—more than 75% of all
2019” (compared to the baseline prevalence
blindness and MSVI is avoidable
of 2010).
•
This is now seen as a more realistic global target as to what can be achieved by the end
impaired (in 2015) •
of this decade, rather than the original target of global elimination by 2020. Some individual countries may achieve, or be
253 million people blind or vision
1 billion people with near-vision impairment
•
% of moderate or severely vision
Top causes of visual impairment: uncorrected
PeeJay Studios have a unique Vision 2020
refractive errors, cataracts and Age-related
design on a selection of over 60 products
Macular Degeneration (AMD)
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Top causes of blindness: cataracts,
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Uncorrected Refractive Errors and glaucoma.
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Coming of Age Valentina a life article from
It feels like yesterday my coming of age, 18
party. It took place at the “Sail Club” an
is a magic number. One feels on top of the
upscale place for the upper crust and
world, invincible, unbeatable, conquering
notables of my native city of Bari in Puglia,
the world seems easy as it should be at that
Italy.
age, beauty is just blooming, strength is at its best, everything is possible. Kids dream of the day they will become 18 years of age, then the day comes and goes, it lasts one year and it is over. Life after that takes a different meaning.
I arrived at the Club in a landau carriage with a horse and a coachman. I was dressed in a long shimmering silver dress my mother made, the kind Hollywood actresses wore, tight at the waist, spaghetti strap at the top with ample décolletage and flared out at the
In the high stratosphere of society, youngsters coming of age, are presented at
bottom. The dress shaped me like a siren at
the shore.
court, just as in Downton Abbey, when rebellious Lady Rose is presented officially to
My first dance was with my father, we
the King and became a legal adult, it also
glided on the dance floor like two leaves in
means a chaperon is no longer needed.
the wind at the sound of Strauss’s Waltz.
In a less stratified society, youngsters are
We opened the dances. The night went on
still presented today to their friends,
with special food and drinks served by
teachers, family, neighbors, and perhaps to
waiters in white gloves and formal livery.
some city dignitaries as it happened to me many moons ago. The mayor of the city was invited to my
My head was muffled, I felt in a precious glass bauble.
At one point, during the evening, the Mayor of the city
came up to me with a red velvet cushion and presented me with a symbolic key to the city. He declared me officially an adult with all the duties and responsibilities the coming of age brings. It was magical and powerful, it felt important. The Mayor of the city kissed me on the cheek and wished me a good life. I heard someone crying in the background
Next February, I have been invited to my goddaughter’s coming of age, she will be 18 years young. I received the picture of her red dress she will wear on that day for a party in the same “Sail Club” in my hometown where I was presented, still there, still celebrating so many young women.
I will refrain from showing the beautiful red
My father was not a royal or a blazoned noble,
dress she selected, perhaps she will want to
he was a regular bloke with a regular job, who
blog about it? Instead, I will show you what I
wanted the best for his daughter and a
will wear at her party. My outfit is a bit retro.
memorable 18 years old party. He is no longer
These are my accessories, my dress is red and
in this world, but the memories are grand.
black, short a bit above the knees, the nylons
Let’s enjoy the small things in life, those are the
have a seam in the center back, very 1950’s.
things that make life worth living. Ciao.
Valentina
Valentina Cirasola Interior-Fashion Designer
Valentina Cirasola is a native of Italy and as all Italians, she has a passion for fast cars, fast thinking, quick actions, a snappy temper, hot and vivid colors, but she loves, loves, loves slow food. She is a trained and award winner designer of interiors and fashion, in business since 1990 between Italy and USA. Born in a family of artists, style surrounded her since the beginning of her life and determined her career. She blends fashion and interior well in any of her design work. She loves to remodel homes creating the unusual, as well as styling personal image. Often people describe Valentina as “the colorist” as she loves to colors her clients’ world. Vogue Magazine - Italy and many prominent publications in California such as Gentry magazine featured Valentina’s work. She also appeared on RAI-Italian National TV. She has made four appearances on local T.V. Comcast Channel 15 and for three years she has conducted her show on BlogTalkRadio called: Valentina Design Universe. With this same title, she produces her own TV Show at KMVT15, a local public access TV. When Valentina Cirasola is not working with clients, she can be found at the Opera, Ballet and Art Galleries, in her garden growing organic food, taking photos at anything she finds attractive, creating stylish fashion, speaking in public, teaching classes and taking curious travelers to her native region of Puglia in Italy, where she guides them in tasting wines, food, shopping the Italian style, admiring art and architecture and basically living it up in Puglia for 12 days. She was awarded for her participation on the design concept for San Jose Little Italy Arch, unveiled March 27, 2015 - http://www.littleitalysj.com/archway.html
Website - http://www.valentinadesigns.com Blog: http://valentinaexpressions.com
RED-A Voyage into Colors From the dawn of time, every race and population have attributed various meanings and symbolism to colors. This book talks about colors, how humans can benefit from using them, how our health, spirit, and state of mind can improve by using all colors without distinction. The book teaches how to create and mix colors as a study for people who have an interest in becoming artists and are just starting. Also, the book delves into understanding colors from a spiritual point of view and how to use them, in a technical way, for interiors, fashion, food, entertainment and much more. It is so important when mixing colors to look at nature as our best teacher, where all colors are mixed together and co-exist well without rules and prejudices. We can simply copy nature and feel perfect in our choice of colors.
Amazon UK - https://amzn.to/35t7OQC Barnes & Nobles - http://goo.gl/q7dQ3w Valentina’s Amazon Page - https://www.amazon.com/Valentina-Cirasola/e/B0031A02H2
Review Time Tiempo de revisiรณn The Moon Hunters A Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction Adventure, by Anya Pavelle
Rannie says; The moon Hunters Is an intriguing story set on Ani Island, where a group of survivors settled to escape from a worldwide plague. At the beginning of the story, Leilani and Jenay have been rescued from a small boat by the crew of H.M.S. Kentucky Maru. The rest of the book switches between past and present as Leilani tells her story to the ship's doctor, Deanne. Leilani has been raised in one of the small villages on the island, under a strict maledominated regime. She is a strong and independent woman, who starts to question her upbringing when forced to give up a job she loves to become a Virtue at court. Her experiences at court go from bad to worse and her plans to
Adventure / Dystopian Fiction. Chandra Press. 2019. 399 pages.
escape are thwarted by the king, who brands her a criminal.
Amazon UK Kindle
The Moon Hunters was an engaging postapocalyptic/dystopian read, with superb worldbuilding, dimensional characters, and a storyline kept me interested from start to finish.
Amazon UK Paperback International
A n ya Pav e l l e author of
The Moon Hunters
Anya Pavelle was born in Massachusetts but eventually settled in Florida, where she currently lives with her husband and dog. Anya is a trained art historian who sees the quiet beauty in nature, art, and literature. She has
been imagining new worlds since she was six years old and, like many morbidly curious people, she’s obsessed with dystopian literature.
The Moon Hunters is Anya’s first foray into science fiction. Anya currently working on the sequel and also plans on writing a prequel. In addition to writing, Anya loves traveling the world, SCUBA diving, relaxing with her friends and family, and finally, curling up with a new book and a glass of wine on a moon-lit humid night.
Website:
https://www.chandrapress.com/anya-pavelle
THE LIST is an annually published catalogue of recommended, commended and endorsed books, written by independent authors and
writers published via small presses.
Each book submitted for consideration for inclusion in THE LIST is nominated by an industry insiders who is invited to participate in the process. Each year the selection of proposer advocates differs from the previous year.
THE LIST is published each November,
recommending books worth reading during the forthcoming year.
The current edition is THE LIST 2020.
Read THE LIST now.
OUR COVER STORY Mary Wollstonecraft Mary Wollstonecraft, (Born 27 April 1759) whose married name was Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, was an English writer and passionate advocate of educational and social equality for women. She is often described as the original suffragette. I have a particular interest in Mary, as she once lived in the same town as I now dwell.
In 1768, Mary's father, Edward Wollstonecraft
lived in this town, but only in January 2018 was it
moved his family from Barking (London) to the
discovered which house she resided. Research and
East Ridings of Yorkshire, where he hoped to find
luck found two separate sections of a parish rate
his fortune in farming. The family remained there
book, showing the Wollstonecraft tenancy of 2
until 1775 when they returned to London, the
Highgate. The two parts of these records were
farming venture having failed.
found in different record offices. Although some
During their time in Beverley, (my hometown),
pages are missing, fortunately the vital pages for
Mary acquired some amount of education in one
conclusive proof were intact. It was an
of the many Dame schools which came and went,
exhilarating discovery especially when viewing
but her chief influence seems to have been Dr
inside the house it was discovered most all the
John Arden, father of her great friend Jane. He
18th century features survived.
was a scientist and philosopher, quite famous in
Later, Wollstonecraft taught school and worked as
his time.
a governess, experiences which inspired her views
Beverley historians knew Mary Wollstonecraft
expressed in Thoughts on the Education of Daughters (1787).
In 1788 she began working as a translator for
at his home and included William Godwin,
the London publisher Joseph Johnson, who
Thomas Paine, Thomas Holcroft, William Blake,
published several of her works, including the
and, after 1793, William Wordsworth. In 1796
novel Mary: A Fiction (1788). Her mature work
she began a liaison with Godwin, and on March
on woman’s place in society is A Vindication of
29, 1797, Mary being pregnant, they were
the Rights of Woman (1792), which calls for
married.
women and men to be educated equally.
The marriage was happy but brief; Mary died on the 10 September 1797, just 11 days after
In 1792 Wollstonecraft left England to observe
the birth of her second daughter, Mary
the French Revolution in Paris, where she lived
Wollstonecraft Shelley, who became a novelist
with an American, Captain Gilbert Imlay. In the
best known as the author of Frankenstein.
spring of 1794 she gave birth to a daughter, Fanny. The following year, distraught over the breakdown of her relationship with Imlay, she attempted suicide.
Wollstonecraft returned to London to work again for Johnson and joined an influential radical group, which gathered
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman is one of the trailblazing works of feminism. Published in 1792, Wollstonecraft’s work argued the educational system of her time deliberately trained women to be frivolous and incapable. She posited that an educational system which allowed girls the same advantages as boys would result in women who would be not only exceptional wives and mothers but also capable workers in many professions. Other early feminists made similar pleas for improved education for women, but Wollstonecraft’s work was unique in suggesting the betterment of women’s status be affected through such political change as the radical reform of national educational systems. Such change, she concluded, would benefit all society.
UK https://amzn.to/2T31kVY USA https://www.amazon.com/Vindication-Rights-Woman-Penguin-
Classics/dp/0141441259
ut o
t e Trac
s
A story by Michael Moore I squinted into the light from the train as it came
seemed to go on forever.
towards me at full speed. The ground vibrated
I wasn't a kid anymore though. I was eleven now. I
under my eleven-year-old ass, and my heart sped
couldn't even count that many years on my
up with anticipation.
fingers, which was okay, because I stopped using
WHAH! WHAH!
my fingers to count in the third grade.
The street was about fifty feet away, there was a
On both sides of me, metal rails went on forever.
loud "ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding" where
The noise seemed to be coming out of them.
the gates descended to keep vehicles from driving
From my bedroom, it always sounded meek: tik-a-
over the tracks. Even if there had been cars
tik-a-tik-a-tik-a-tik-a-tik-a. But up close, it was a
stopped, nobody would have seen me. It was
humbling, thunderous roar.
pitch dark out and the portion of tracks I was
Steven Miller said not to touch them, they had
sitting on disappeared into a patch of woods.
some sort of electricity running through them.
After the train drove over me, it would cross Hoag
"It's okay to touch 'em when there's no train,"
Road and then a bridge that reached out of the
he'd said. To demonstrate the point, he leaned
Skagit River.
down and placed the palm of his meaty hand flat
I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, watching it
on the track. "But be careful when there's a train
turn to fog. It lit up wonderfully in the beam of
comin', Danny. They'll zap the livin' shit outta ya."
light coming from the front of the train. I liked trains.
That was two days ago. Frankly, I found it hard to
WHAH! WHAH!
believe there was electricity running through the
I mean, it wasn't an obsession or anything. I didn't have a mini set running around my floor, or locomotive wallpaper. But still, I thought they
tracks. Why would there be? But my neighbor was a year and a half older than me and had more experience with this sort of thing.
were pretty cool. When I was a kid, I used to love
He said he had even lain on his back before and
it when one of my parents would get caught at an
let the train pass over him, said it was the best
intersection waiting for a train to pass. I would sit
experience of his life. That, I did believe. I heard
in the backseat counting boxcars. Sometimes they
of other kids doing it.
Never seen one, even though we lived in The Meadows as long as I could remember, and I spent most of my days playing around the tracks. The closest anybody got when I was around was the bottom of the hill they ran along. A dozen feet at least. I was told if you're not careful, being that close, the train would spit rocks at you. "Seen that too," Steven Miller said. "Kid used to live right here in The Meadows. Lost his whole eye." The train was a big part of storytelling in my neighborhood. Some kids claimed to have jumped on and ridden for miles. Others said they caused derailments by laying loose spikes on the beams. (All a long, long time ago, of course.) Mostly, I just left pennies and came back later to find them flattened like pancakes.
But I wanted a story, which was why I snuck out
were visible, but the moon peeked curiously around a
tonight. Why my bedroom window stood open on the
thin grey cloud - my only witness. Every muscle in my
other side of the fence, and I sat in my plaid red
body tensed. I clenched my jaw so tight I thought I
pyjamas on the damp wooden planks, staring into the
chipped a tooth in the back of my mouth.
light of an oncoming train. My body trembled as cold,
WHAAAAAAH!!!!!
humid air brushed against the exposed skin of my
I closed my eyes, holding my breath, my hands balled
face.
into fists. This was it.
My only regret was I hadn't brought anybody to witness what I was about to do. But it was well past midnight and nobody would be out this late. Even I shouldn't have been, really. My Dad would have welted my backside if he knew. The thunder radiating from the tracks grew louder and the earth began to shake more violently. The train was getting close. I
needed to lay down.
Only then did it occur to me this might really be it. What if the stories were all Bologna? What if I died? But how? The wheels were far enough apart I could have fit three of me between them. And I had seen parked trains. They were high. I could have crawled on my hands and knees and they still would have been able to pass over me. But what if there were pieces that hung down? Chains?
WHAH! WHAH!
The thought of getting whacked in the gonads with a
My heart beat like a snare drum. I felt tiny needles
dangling chain didn't sit well with me. Nor the idea of
trying to poke their way out from under my skin as I
anything dragging across my face.
reclined and looked up into the foggy sky. No stars
Suddenly, being under the train didn't seem like such
passed over. I closed my eyes as tight as I could, but
a hot idea. And it was close. How close?
tears somehow managed to seep through the slits. I'm
The air around me grew somehow colder. I needed to
sure the ground was shaking more violently than ever
move. I opened my eyes, ready to jump, to roll, to get
under my back, but I didn't notice. Fear filled every
off the tracks as fast as I could. But instead, I froze,
cell of my body, causing it to vibrate like a
stiff as a popsicle stick. Every hair on my body seemed
jackhammer.
to reach for the sky. Until then, I had never seen death
I reopened my eyes and he was still there. Somehow
or experienced the dirty, dirty tingling brought on by
his head was back resting on his shoulder, and he was
its reality as it stares down at you. I could die content
laying on top of me, holding me down. He wasn't
if I never know that feeling again.
strong, I was paralyzed. Something about his touch
I gazed up, into the caved-in face of a dark-haired boy,
seemed to drain the life out of me. Though I didn't try,
who appeared to be about my age. Only one eye was
I knew I wouldn't have been able to look away from
visible. The other disappeared where half of his skull
his hideous face.
had collapsed. His jaw hung so far, he could have fit
The worst part, though, was the way he stared at me,
both fists into his mouth. His head rested on one
with his head tilted and his lonely eye trained on me
shoulder as if it had somehow popped off his neck
like a hunter's scope. He was emotionless. Cold. His
bone. Blood decorated his white T-shirt in horrible
jaw, which I now saw was completely detached from
streaks and splotches. With his one good eye, he
his skull, hung from cheeks, stretching them and
looked down, into mine and blinked.
resting on my lips.
I screamed. I sat up abruptly and my head hit his,
The train was a blur as it passed above him. Even
causing it to roll off of his shoulder and dangle from
though the light mounted on the front of the
the skin of his neck. The train was right behind him. I
locomotive had long passed, and the night was darker
didn't have time to get up and I knew it. I screamed
underneath, I somehow saw every horrible detail. I
again and was somehow able to take note over the
tried to form words, but all that came out of my
deafening noise, that I sounded like a girl. I didn't care
mouth was a shaky, "Nnnaaaggghhh!!!"
though. Funny what does and doesn't matter when
I felt a warm spot spread over my crotch. It contrasted
you know you're about to die.
with the cold of the night, telling me I had pissed
The boy grabbed me by my shoulders, shoved me
myself. What could I do? There wasn't a doubt in my
back to the ground, pinning me against the wooden
mind what the boy was.
beams. My head collided with a rock, a sharp pain
I closed my eyes again and thought about what came
which shot through my body told me this wasn't a
next. I would die as he did. He probably died the same
nightmare.
way, laying under the train. He probably had a
WHAAAAAAH!!!!! Then the music of hell erupted around me as the train
neighbor like Steven Miller - with some Bologna story about laying on the tracks - who talked him into
I didn't want to die. At that moment, that's all I knew.
"Thanks." I didn't think about it, it just spilled out of
I looked back up into the one eye of the ghost,
me.
begging him to read my mind.
He didn't answer, just stood up and walked away. I
Please, I thought. I don't wanna die. Protect me,
saw then his back was broken like his neck. The top
please. He continued to stare at me. The moment
half leaned over to one side. He walked with a
seemed to go on forever; I thought about everything
terrible limp.
that mattered to me. For the first time in my eleven
I think I expected him to slowly fade out, but that's
years, I understood life is a privilege, not a right.
not what happened. He kept walking until he was so
Somewhere in the wreckage of what was once the
far away I couldn't see him anymore through the fog.
face of a young boy like me, the cold gaze began to
Suddenly, I knew he hadn't died laying under the
make sense. It wasn't cold at all. It was just broken.
train. He was hit, walking on the tracks.
For the longest second of my life, I felt what he felt.
I went home that night and crawled back in through
My fear didn't just evaporate, but it was gone
my window without anybody ever knowing I was
nonetheless, changed into sorrow. It was bigger and
gone. I decided not to tell my story to Steven Miller,
more horrible than the tons of steel passing over me.
or any of the other neighborhood kids.
Not because the boy was dead, but because he was
I'm now in my thirties and telling it for the first time. I
lost and always would be.
never saw the boy again.
Then the cloudy sky appeared behind him, and the
Every time I see some train tracks, I look for him, but
noise faded out. I looked up and saw the caboose
I imagine he's far away by now. Still, I never forget to
disappear over the bridge, then I looked back at the
whisper a "thank you" in the direction that he was
dead boy. My tears stopped at some point, I was still
walking.
shaking though.
About Michael Moore
Michael J Moore lives in Seattle, Washington. His books include the bestselling post-apocalyptic novel, After the Change. His work has appeared in Blood Moon Rising Magazine, Horrorzine Magazine, Schlock Magazine, Minutes Before Six, Terror House Magazine, Siren's Call Magazine. Hellbound Books anthology Ghosts, Spirits and Specters, has been adapted for theater and produced in the Seattle area, is used as curriculum at the University of Washington and has received an Honorable Mention in the L.Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future contest. Michale's short stories will be released by Rainfall Books, Horror Tree – Trembling with Fear, Black Petals Horror/Science Fiction Magazine, Transmundane Press and Soteira Press.
michaeljmoorewriti.wixsite.com/website www.facebook.com/michaeljmoorewriting
An engineer from out of town disappears. Then Conor Mitchell's girlfriend. Then his parents. The townspeople of Sedrow Woolley, Washington are vanishing at a horrifying rate. But they come back. They all come back days later, and they're different. Hungry. Insectile. Creatures posing as humans. Because Conor knows the truth, and because the entire police force has already been changed, and because there's nowhere to run from an evil that only wants to spread, his sole option is to fight. But they have no intention of letting him leave town.
Amazon UK Amazon USA
Writing for Charity Anthologies (because I care)
Jane Risdon Every couple of years I agree to write something for a
My story – one of 24 – is called ‘Penance.’ I won’t
Charity Anthology and put aside my own writing
spoil things by telling you about it here but the title is
projects until I have finished. I only agree to write a
a dead giveaway. 23 authors and an 11 year child
short story in aid of something I believe in, an
have contributed, some are award-winning, best-
organisation which I feel delivers directly to those in
selling writers with million sales tucked under their
need, or in which I have a particular interest.
belts; I wish I was one.
In the Autumn of 2019 I was asked if I’d like to submit
The charity, Help for Heroes, is close to my heart. I
a short story of 5,000 words maximum for an
come from a family with service from many
anthology in aid of Help for Heroes called, ‘When
generations of Forces personnel. Almost every war
Stars Will Shine,’ (Helping our Heroes One Page at a
and conflict going back to the year dot someone from
Time). I agreed, and set about writing a story with a
both sides of my family has served either in the Army,
Christmas theme, albeit loosely, because publication
Royal Air Force, Royal Navy, and even the Merchant
was to be in time for Christmas and the cover had a
Navy, and many of them who didn’t die, came back
Christmas theme (Christmas decorations and dog-
home afterwards with dreadful physical or mental
tags) which I found to be eye-catching and very clever
injuries.
(designed by letsgetbooked.com)
My maternal Grandfather died in 1955 from gassing
The collection has been curated and edited by Emma
suffered in WW1 in France in the trenches.
Mitchell, Creating Perfection, to whom the idea and
A second cousin on my father’s side suffered mental
whole project must be credited. The proof-reader,
illness all his life until a premature death stopped his
Noble Owl Proof-Reading, also gave of their time and
suffering. His submarine was bombed and sunk in
expertise freely as well.
WW2.
There wasn’t any help or even understanding for them or their suffering. My Grandfather had what was then called ‘spongy lung,’ and for three months of the year (Winter usually) he was particularly ill, unable to work, every breath was a struggle to take and might have been his last. My Grandmother received a pittance per week from a work co-operative fund whereby a small amount was paid in throughout the year – by the
employees, such as my Grandfather - to partially cover illness and loss of income whilst off sick – it came nowhere near covering his loss of income. She had 5 children to raise on next to nothing. When I hear about conservation, recycling and
former self, unable to work. He lived on various
whatever, I think of her, making something out of
medications and once in a while when life got too
nothing for their meals and often going without
much he voluntarily booked himself into a local
herself. In those days before the NHS (which came
institution until he felt able to cope again.
into existence in 1947), a doctor had to be paid for
He wasn’t dangerous, but he was withdrawn at
his services and there weren’t free or reduced cost
times and unable to function and was a huge
prescriptions. Life was tough. Sometimes she paid
worry, and quite a responsibility, for his mother
the doctor with eggs, garden produce, and a
who was quite elderly when he finally passed away.
promise to pay as soon as she could.
It took a toll on her own health too. She cared for
Doctors were not wealthy back then. Our family
him alone once her husband died and her other
doctor rode a dilapidated bicycle and was often
sons left home and went abroad.
called out at night more than a dozen times. He
There were many like my Grandfather and second
scratched a living. His surgery was in his house, his
cousin who returned with physical or mental
wife was his receptionist and you were seen on a
injuries who just got on with life because they
first come first served basis – there wasn’t an
didn’t have a choice.
appointment system and he was often still seeing patients late into the evening. It makes you think.
Those with mental illness, such as my second
Families suffered with them. It was seeing this, experiencing this at first hand as a small child and teenager and later with family and friends who
cousin, were virtually left to get on with it. I can
returned from Korea, Kenya, Bosnia, Ireland, Iraq,
recall him as being a lovely man, a talented artist,
Afghanistan and elsewhere, with all sorts of
who had hoped to go to Paris as a young man to
problems, which prompted me to agree to write for
study art but the Second World War ended his
this anthology.
dreams. When he returned he was a shadow of his
We understand so much more about the mental and
When Stars Will Shine
emotional trauma and physical challenges these brave men and women face when they have returned
(Creating Perfection Publishing)
home from deployment.
Kindle UK
Paperback UK
We now have brilliant technology and on-going
Kindle USA Paperback USA
research into Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, which is leaping ahead with every passing year so that now we can - and should - help these people who have put their lives on the line for us. That is why I wanted to contribute, so that this great work will continue and funds can be raised to finance it all. It is my way of saying thank you to those whose lives have been ruined so that mine can continue without the worry and consequences of war looming over my shoulder and my family. In the past I have also written for various Hospice organisations such as The Princess Alice Hospice, in Farnham, England, The Norfolk Hospice in Norfolk England, and for Save the Children (International). I have contributed stories which have benefitted Women’s Aid, Women for Women, and
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Jane-Risdon/e/ B00I3GJ2Y8 Website:
Breakthrough, as well as The Ben Kinsella Trust in the
https://janerisdon.com/
UK
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/JaneRisdon2/
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Amazon Australia Amazon Canada Amazon Japan
Sue Johnston
Sue Johnston is an 83-year old widow who loves driving her 'Honda Jazz' car around the country. She also enjoys walking across fields and woods, exploring the scenery.
She has undertaken a 2500-mile tour of the UK alone, by car and foot. But then, as she says, "nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Instagram had never been heard of.
I have published articles over the years, children's comics, jokes for comedians and written lectures for
Sue familiarises herself with modern technological
adult education, and I was a manager for Avon
devices to help her have a leisurely tour. She only
Cosmetics.
drives 80-100 miles a day, parking at the next hotel, before investigating the local sights on foot. Usually only spending two half-days at each destination, having reserved her stopovers through the 'very
efficient' booking.com for bedtime. A mature widow previously teaching computing and word processing, I was determined to keep up to date, challenging myself; internet, email, Facebook,
My four-year-old car was sitting neglected in my drive; my tour involved two months of advanced organisation. I must learn a lot more about my iPhone; it's got me lost twice, so its back to my
children and grandchildren for more tuition. The result is a rather eclectic and fascinating collection of memories and travellers' tales in this, a book of her solo journey around the UK.
Get to know a what makes Sue 'tick' in this comprehensive interview. Why did you decide to go on a 2500-mile
supermarket was located wherever I
tour of the UK?
happened to be. I listed all the
I decided I ought to find out more about
destinations about 80-100 miles apart,
our lovely country, the U.K. I had a
which worked out at around two hours
relatively new Honda Jazz sitting on my
driving a day. For each stop, I booked a
drive; fully serviced and M.O.T. tested. I
hotel, guest house or hostel in advance. I
felt I needed a purpose now my family are
did them in batches of three only. My
well-established with their own lives and I
daughter said, “you might change your
am alone.
mind Mum and want to come home�.
Did you do any research before your
I started with two Airbnb homes, then
travels?
changed to Booking.com. The latter
Travelling on this Tour involved 3 months of planning in advance. Taking a map of
the U.K., a lolly stick, duly marked up with 80-100-mile journeys and lots of plain paper (recycled of course) pens and
turned out to be simpler to book, considering my novice computing skills. My planning took three months of Spring. My journey was going to be around the coast all the way.
coloured felt tips, I was armed to start. I
I believe the mileage is over 7,500 miles.
walked said stick around the coast of
For two main reasons this was changed:
England, Scotland and Wales. (Ireland is
one, family members hearing of my tour
for another time) after starting inland at
wanted to be included by me visiting
my home town.
them. (They don’t all live at the seaside).
I have a very good Philips Atlas (produced by Aldi), so I could look up where the local
Secondly, my idea of calling in on many of the Royal National Lifeboat Stations was
stymied as frequently there is no-one at the stations
credit to us and grandchildren too.
unless there is a “shout-out”.
Being 'on the go' is my favourite. I find I don't have
Money collecting for a charity, of which I consider
much time for solitary or sad thoughts when I'm
RNLI my major one, is not straightforward “who’s
busy.
going to give you money?”
What did you learn about yourself when on the
One volunteer asked me to look down her nose
GRAN tour?
during my research for the whole tour.
I learnt self-sufficiency when we went dinghy sailing
I wasn’t hopping, jogging or running backwards, just
as a family. I became aware this was very useful.
an old lady driving for 2 hours, parking, booking in at
Any problem could be sorted with a calm enquiry of
the guest house, then exploring the area on foot for
oneself. As a sailor, you train to get out of a capsize
4-6 miles of leisurely fun.
situation, to help your crew and above all try to
I’ll remember them, in due course, with a personal
manage your boat without calling the rescue boat.
donation.
In the real world, if you do need help, don’t be afraid
How would you respond to someone who says they
to ask for it.
cannot travel because they’re too old?
Planning is the only thing necessary when
How do we define young or old these days? The
contemplating any new activity. Study the subject,
Queen is not sending cards every year to people
ask experts, read others’ journeys. Decide what you
over 100 now, as there are so many. If you are able
would really like to do and go for it. Be as healthy as
enough to cope with your mobility, travel is no bar.
you can and pace yourself. There is always someone
Make sure to get the right aids if you need them: a
who has done it before, often better, faster, longer.
swivel for the car seat, a walking/sitting stick for
Don’t heed them, do your own thing.
short rambles. It pays to be curious. Try a small
How did you record notes for your book during
outing to somewhere new, say one hour’s drive
your trip?
away. Just put the postcode in your sat-nav and obey it. Did your travelling help you to grieve to loss of your husband? Although I will never get over the loss of my
I kept a nightly journal and was very strict with myself about writing my notes every day. I write long-hand in a special notebook. I kept all my receipts, listed expenses every day, collected leaflets and brochures.
husband, I thought he would certainly approve of this journey of discovery, albeit without him physically. We had 59.5 years’ of very happy marriage. We have two superb children who are a
I had two plastic cards, one debit, one credit and a small amount of cash. This was all filed neatly into my “office”… a hessian bag placed in the well of the front passenger seat.
What were some of your favourite sights?
stage at the far end of the pier. If there were any
Cromer, Norfolk pier is very smart these days. In my
silences during the show, we could hear the sea
youth, I lived nearby in a small village called
washing against the pier legs underneath.
Trimingham. I used to cycle 5 miles to work in
Sheringham, where I stayed at the Youth hostel (and
Cromer as an assistant in a radio and record shop.
took the bus to Cromer on my visit), was another
The church is the centre of the town surrounded by a
amusing tourist trail with its steam train and
square of shops. If anyone ever asks the way to
enormous supermarket.
anywhere you just say. “You can’t miss it, it’s
I used to cycle over from Cromer to watch my
opposite the church.”
husband playing cricket there when he was in the
Suddenly the heavens opened as I was walking in my
R.A.F. based nearby. That was many years’ ago,
summer shorts and sandals up from the prom. I
where we first met.
dashed into a newsagent’s and bought a brolly. As I
The beaches along this coast are all ideal for sand
stood on
activities, although you must keep away from the cliffs that are always eroding. Walking and paddling along the edge of the tide is very relaxing and
beneficial for the feet, I feel. What interesting characters did you meet? I met a lady around my age, at dinner in a hotel. We shared a bottle of wine together (no more driving 'till tomorrow). I never drink until after I park the car and have booked into my hotel, not even a portion of tiramisu!
the doorstep next to a man and dog also sheltering
The lady had undertaken a driving assessment, to
there, I took the cover off my new umbrella, pressed
check she was still capable of such a feat at age 82.
the unlock button and it flew open with a loud
She passed with flying colours. She did 6 hours
whoosh. The dog and man both jumped in surprise.
driving in one day.
“Sorry,” I said, “this is new.” We tourists all looked funny in our thin summer clothes and flip flops paddling along the pavement,
using various improvised plastic bags to ward off the rain. We Brits just grin at each other and carry on. I had a nostalgic walk along Cromer Pier. As in days of yore, I performed Gilbert and Sullivan operettas on its
She got up early the next morning to wave me off, as I left the car park. Ships that pass in the night, hey? What inspired you to write the GRAN tour? I have always kept a daily journal throughout our family holidays. Now on my own as a widow, I found I needed something interesting to keep me occupied.
What do you hope people take from your book?
And there’s more; in the well below the boot were
Being single-minded though not selfish, people
the essentials for someone to help me if I broke
can follow their dream and enjoy life to the full.
down, Hi-Viz jacket, jack, spanners, screwdrivers,
Are you currently working on any other projects? Yes, I have Dartmouth and Cuthbert Car Adventures, which I hope will be published soon by Austin Macauley. These are short stories to be
cloths for oily hands. I didn’t need any of them over 2,590 miles of my Tour, but there is always the possibility… next time!
read to 4-year-old children. Next year I may go to Southern Ireland - this is half -planned already.
The GRAN Tour of the UK As a footnote:
from all good booksellers.
The geography of the inside of my Honda Jazz is to be contemplated. It was a great success. I had my
Amazon UK
“office”, maps and money purses in the footwell of the front passenger’s seat. Dartmouth and Cuthbert, my two furry toy mascots, sat in the front passenger seat with the seat belt on. TomTom was perched on the front dashboard (except when he fell off). On the back seats, I had one large suitcase and
one smaller one positioned side-by-side, so I could open them easily. Usually covered with a rug to deter baddies. In the well behind me, I had all my shoes, including walking boots. The back passenger footwell is used as an overflow space. In the boot, a bag holding my favourite towelling robe, dressing gown and slippers. A cool bag for
fruit, veggies and leftovers. Sometimes I asked my host to freeze the ice pack in their fridge overnight. A lunch bag to take to the prom during my walk after parking at the hotel.
Amazon USA
Karen J Mossman Like many people, I enjoy a good mystery. Stories
option but to run away. She had her baby and
where you need to know what happens next.
said her life had been a lie ever since.
Tales that pique your curiosity, and keep you
As part of my research I went onto the missing
turning the page to get to the end.
person’s website. There were many stories about
Over the years, I’ve found missing people
people who had disappeared, and those left
intriguing. Why did they disappear in the first
behind. One mum showed the bedroom of her
place? Was it an accident or something more
son left just as it was in 2006 when he
sinister? Is there a happy ending or does it end in
disappeared. The torment she must live with
tragedy? Also, just as importantly, how does it
wondering whether he is still alive is hard to
affect those left behind?
imagine.
Before I thought about becoming a published
Another high-profile case was that of estate agent
author, many of the stories I’d written over the
Suzy Lamplugh who disappeared in 1985. An
years involved this mystery.
attractive young woman who had penciled in her
Did you know there are 300,000 people reported
diary she was meeting a Mr Kipper. She was never
missing each year in the UK alone? That works
seen again, her remains never found, and they
out at almost 900 a day.
didn’t trace Mr Kipper. As a result estate agents
The first high profile case I recall was that of Lord Lucan in 1974. His wife claimed her husband had attacked her, and murdered their nanny. The police investigated but Lucan was never found and to this day it remains a mystery. Journalist
changed the way they worked and Suzy’s mother founded a Trust in the name of her daughter to deal with personal safety. Not all cases are as high profile, and in 2012 an
appeal was launched for a missing woman who
Amelia Hill wrote a fascinating article in The
had not long given birth. She was already
Guardian about a girl who became pregnant. Her
suffering from anxiety and depression. It could
boyfriend didn’t want to know, and her parents
have gone either way and for a few days,
told her to get an abortion. She felt she had no
everyone lived in hope until they found her body.
Ben Needham was aged just 21 months when he
disappeared in 1991. He was on holiday on the Greek Island of Kos with his family. He was being looking after by his grandparents at their farmhouse when he vanished. It made the news all over the world and it finally looks like the boy wandered onto a nearby building site and died as the result of an accident. Madeline McCann is one
There are many more stories with no conclusions
of the most famous stories. In 2007, the four-year-
offered and it’s frustrating not to have an ending.
old girl was abducted while on holiday with her
I’ve always wondered what makes people want to
family. She was a beautiful little thing with blonde
disappear in the first place. What are their stories?
hair and big blue eyes. She captured everyone’s
One day watching a television programme that
hearts. Despite a massive investigation and search.
searches for missing people, I had an idea for a
The police had no viable leads and no trace of her
story. What if you were the missing person, and
was ever found. Twelve years on, the story still hits
suddenly your face appears on screen? The secret
the headlines occasionally.
you had been trying to keep was now out.
Found! tells the story of Amanda, who has problems with her brothers. She takes off to Scotland and creates a new life for herself. When she and her boyfriend are watching television, it is her face that
comes up onscreen and Jamie, her boyfriend shocked by what he hears. The people left behind don’t always know the reasons their loved ones leave. It affects them in difference ways and many suffer for years. So in this story, I’ve included the bewildered family and how they dealt with her disappearance. Some stories do not have ending and we are not always given that neatly wrapped up conclusion. With Found! I wanted to round it up and conclude it, so get your tissues ready for an sweet ending!
https://amzn.to/35CktAJ https://books2read.com/u/bW9rLM
Down by the River ...is also a tale that involves a missing person. This one was inspired by the 90s song ‘Hazard’ by Richard Marx. I found the song so evocative and haunting and the video creating a story that stayed with me for many years. From that, I added a new main character and it has been described as a crime thriller with a touch of paranormal.
What happened that night down by the river? When Shelby's best friend goes missing, she has to return to her hometown to search for her. As soon as she steps off the bus, she knows it is too late. Her visions are vague but the sense of foreboding is not. What is Mary-Jo's boyfriend not saying, and why is Sheriff Rawden
Hughes so convinced he is guilty?
UK: https://amzn.to/30cyK68 International: https://mybook.to/DownbytheRiverKM
T H I S I S N O T A ‘ WA R ’ S T O R Y. Life in the War Zone A collection of poignant, eye opening stories and articles, written primarily as fictional accounts, yet based on true experiences from major war zones around the globe. Each story and article has been formed from interviews, discussions, reports and dialogues from those affected by conflict. Life in the War Zone brings you the emotional truth about the effects and the long lasting legacy of pain and suffering, to both combat troops and innocent civilian lives, devastated by war and armed conflict. Revealed, the cold hard facts; tales from the front line you probably do not want to consider. Situations you do not want to believe are true. Yet these things have happened, are still happening now. For many, the fight continues long after the last shots of the battle have been fired. Physical trauma, disability and PTSD linger for years, even entire lifetimes, following conflict and struggle. These are the
sad facts of modern warfare.
“In war, there are no unwounded”
Amazon UK - Amazon.com
THE ELECTRIC ECLECTI C NOVELLA FICTION PRIZE 2020 The Electric Eclectic Novella Fiction Prize is a competition for emerging writers and indie
authors. We encourage submissions from all literary fictional genres with no restrictions on theme or subject. The emphasis of the judging will be on ambitious, imaginative and innovative approaches which explore and expand creative writing.
PRIZES INCLUDE A full Paperback publishing package and marketing campaign to support the winning title. Branded eBook publishing for the two runners-up. Design Studio book covers. Professional social media book launch. Managed internet marketing bundle. Marketing material. Web page author bio and book listing. Feature article in International magazine. Book listed on specialist Amazon site. Inclusion into 2021 ‘THE LIST’.
ELECTRIC ECLECTIC Is a decentralised international co-operative alliance, managed by members in various countries around the globe, forming a strong branded synergy of collaborative association specialising in authorship, book branding, publishing, marketing and promotions.
DETAILS Full prize rules and how to enter are on the Electric Eclectic website, http://bit.ly/visitEEbooks Email: EEbookbranding@mail.com
T HE D ILEMMA (a condensed version of The Dilemma, a short story in Tall Tales Three by Jack Kregas)
William ‘Tex’ Taylor married Carol Watts thirty-six
Tex, in the nude, went from the bedroom past the
years ago and spent his life working on oil rigs
bathroom to the doorway of the kitchen. To his
around the world. Carol raised their two children
right, coming in from the deck, were two men. One
while working part-time in retail. At the beginning
with a bandana over his face carrying a steel bar
of his career, Tex worked for three years in Texas,
and the other with a balaclava waving a machete.
USA. On returning to Australia with a noticeable
The one with the machete kicked a piece of broken
Texan accent, he became Tex to all his friends.
door away from his foot and lunged towards Tex,
Carol had moved many times, following him around
stopping a few feet from his face.
the world. Wherever the location, they had been a
“Don’t move or I’ll kill your fucking ass! Where is
happy loving family.
the money?”
Tex watched a ball game on TV while Carol was
Tex looked into his dark eyes while being aware the
doing whatever she did in the sewing room or
machete was waving above his head.
office. Around 11:15 pm, she joined Tex to watch the late news before they both went upstairs to
He spoke slowly, scared. “I have no cash here.”
prepare for bed. They were asleep at 3:31 when
The machete came down cutting his arm.
their lives were suddenly changed.
“Fuckin liar, I saw you get money from the
Smashing wood and breaking glass woke Tex with a
machine. I want it.”
start. He hesitated a moment to be sure it wasn’t a
Tex grabbed his arm. Blood flowed. “My wife took
dream. He reached over and whispered to Carol.
the $3OO to her mother. I drove her. She stayed
“Carol, someone’s in the kitchen. Get up and go out
the night.”
the front and call the police.”
Tex knew that he had to delay whatever they might
“Oh no. I…”
do for as long as possible to give Carol more time
“Go now. Hurry!” Carol drowsily jumped from the bed, grabbed a robe and headed to the stairs.
to call for help. The man backed away from Tex. “Grab those phones and the laptop,” he said to the man standing behind him.
“You.” he was back in Tex’s face, “Give me the keys to
“The keys are in a box in the garage. I keep them
both cars. NOW!”
there. I’ll get them for you. I want no trouble. The
Tex watched as the thug collected the two phones
garage has security. Follow me.”
from the chargers on the kitchen countertop. His
Carol ran down the stairs and opened the front door,
heart missed a beat knowing that Carol didn’t have
peeking out. A white van was across the end of the
her phone. She would have to go to a neighbor for
driveway at the front of the house. She could see a
help. Stalling for time was now his only hope. Tex
person in the van. She now realized that in her haste,
reached to his left for a dishtowel hanging on a hook.
being half asleep, she’d left her phone behind. She
He felt the punch to the side of his face and fell back.
started to panic but then thought of Tex. She gained
“No fancy moves asshole.”
control realizing she would have to help him
Tex straightened, “I was just after that towel to put around my arm.” “Fuck your arm. Give me the keys.”
somehow. Luckily, she hadn’t rushed out the door because the sensor light would have come on and alerted the person in the van. She must avoid doing that. Coming
Tex deliberately reached for the towel while watching
to her senses, she reached around the corner and
his aggressor, half expecting to be hit again. He
switched the light off at the wall.
wrapped his arm as the bleeding continued.
Carefully she went out the door, quietly shutting it
the phones and laptop in his hands following behind.
behind her, while staying as close to the door frame as
“Move your ass you old fart or you won’t be moving at
she could. She eased her body to the left, hugging the
all.”
side of the house, taking one step at a time, and turning the corner towards the backyard. Her mind
raced as she crept as quietly as she could on the gravel path while trying to figure out what to do next.
Tex felt the push at his back. He started down the stairs. His arm throbbed. He had to think fast. Once in the garage, they might slash him again or even kill him. He sensed they too were scared and anxious, not
Tex stepped over the broken door moving as slowly as
sure of themselves or what they would do. Any
possible out onto the deck. He could feel the one with
minute Carol would arrive with the neighbors and the
the machete breathing on his neck. The other one had
police. Going slow and hope were his best strategies.
The outside sensor light on the veranda had been
unlike a military flamethrower, at the man. His legs,
smashed making it very dark so he held the railing
chest, and head ignited. He screamed inhuman
as he went down the stairs. It was only fifteen or
sounds, falling and rolling on the ground. Tex
twenty steps from the bottom of the deck to the
jumped backwards away from the flames with the
garage door. Time was running out to come up with
smell of burning flesh filling his nostrils.
a plan.
The man behind was stunned at what he saw in
Carol reached the edge of the carport. She heard
front of him and tried to run past Carol. Carol
them coming out of the house and the verbal threat
turned the hose onto his legs. With his pants on fire
to Tex. She had to do something. Looking into the
and in pain, he ran at Carol. Carol swung the bottle
dark carport, she could make out a rake and a large
at him catching him in the chest and chin knocking
broom but figured she couldn’t do much with them.
him backwards and out cold. In doing so she had
She felt something near her foot. She stared down
dropped the hose which in turn burned her leg as it
at it. She now knew what she had to do and crept
hit the ground. She pulled the bottle towards her
behind her car to the corner of the carport. In the
and turned off the valve.
dark, she could make out Tex leading the two men
Tex, recovering from disbelief, ran for the garden
towards the garage. She tensed and waited.
hose turning on the tap and spraying the man on
Tex was two steps from the garage. True, there was
the ground who now was quiet. His body was
a security touchpad on the side of the garage door
smoldering with flesh peeling off his arms. Tex
that he used when he was working in the garden
turned the hose on the other man who lay still as if
and didn’t have the remote door opener with him.
dead, blood running from his mouth with his
He could open the door, but the problem was that
trouser legs burned away showing grilled legs.
the keys to both cars were still in the kitchen.
Carol ran to Tex and threw her arms around him
Maybe he could escape and run down the driveway
sobbing hysterically. Tex held her, comforting her.
before the man could grab him or swing the
Blood dripped from the towel around his arm. They
machete. Maybe?
stood frozen as one in a moment that resembled a
Carol turned the valve while striking the long-
scene from a horror movie with whiffs of smoke
stemmed match she’d found in a pocket duct-taped
providing stenches and pongs no one should ever
to the side of the bottle. Flames shot from the end
experience.
of the hose.
The screaming had woken the neighbors. Fred from
She opened the valve fully and stepped from her
across the street ran up the driveway after almost
hiding place yelling, “Hey!”
being hit by a white van taking off at high speed.
The man behind Tex stopped, turning towards the
Lights were on in the house next door with shocked
voice. The next second he lit up like a flare. Carol
faces peering over the fence. Sirens could be heard
pointed the hose, shooting a stream of fire, not
in the background.
The thugs had been treated and taken to hospital
“In other words,” Tex interrupted, “they can come in
with one in a very serious condition with burns over
and shoot you, but you can’t shoot them. That’s
much of his body. The other had regained
fucked. Sorry for the word but…”
consciousness, yelling and swearing incoherently. He
“Look, the law in these cases is ambiguous. Across
had burns to his legs and concussion as well as
Australia, self-defense laws exist in every state and
missing a few teeth.
territory to give homeowners the legal right of
Next came the questioning by police detectives
protecting themselves, but it will always be up to the
trying to piece together exactly what had happened.
police and the courts to decide if the level of self-
Both Tex and Carol gave their accounts as best they
defense used against a home invader was necessary,
could.
warranted or lawful. If not, Aussie homeowners who
The introduction by the two detectives as Inspectors
violently confront people in their homes could
Sullivan and Meade had taken place at the table on
potentially face jail time.”
the back deck. exactly what had happened. Tex
“You sound like you’re quoting a lawbook word for
suppressed a chuckle as their mood changed
word. So, what you’re telling us is that if the police
abruptly when they were introduced to the late
decide there was unnecessary force, we could be
arrival. Noel Upshaw, a solicitor of fame, was Tex’s
prosecuted?”
friend and personal lawyer. Three hours later the
“It means that if someone comes into your house in
detectives picked up their notebooks and left,
the night and you wake up, you can’t just shoot them
advising them not to leave town as they may have
dead.”
more questions. “Or toast them,” said Tex almost laughing. “So, does “Okay, Noel. Tell me what this all means. What is the
that mean we should be afraid? Are we going to be
law on home invasion in Queensland?”
prosecuted?”
Noel thought for a minute before answering. “In
“Remember what I said. The State’s Criminal Act
Queensland, a person is permitted to use reasonable
permits homeowners to use reasonable force but
force to defend themselves or their property, but
only if they believe the force to be necessary. Carol
they must not cause grievous bodily harm.”
acted because she believed you were in mortal
Carol gasped, looking as if she was about to cry.
danger. She heard the guy threaten you, in effect,
Noel continued, “Sections of the State’s Criminal Act
saying he might kill you. That’s why she acted as she
permits homeowners to use reasonable force but
did.”
only if they believe the force to be necessary. Police
Tex refilled the wine glasses. “Am I right in saying
never encourage homeowners to confront intruders,
that the police and courts could possibly file charges
insisting they instead take steps to secure their
against Carol or both of us, saying we used
houses from people gaining unlawful entry.”
unnecessary force protecting our lives?”
It is possible but not probable.”
3.
They would transfer their property into their
“If that happened it could cost us so much money,
children’s names so it couldn’t be touched.
money we don’t have.” There was an edge to
Sell their cars and other not-needed assets.
Carol’s voice. She was angry
Turn their retirement plans into cash. Go on
Over the next few weeks, Tex could see Carol’s stress levels were at a continued high. Flashes of that night were recurring as well as the new
an extended vacation with the assets with no thought of returning to Australia to face any court cases that might eventuate.
menace of a possible prosecution. Carol sat with
You as the reader have come to know Tex and
Tex discussing the possibilities. They went over
Carol. They are normal everyday people who most
their options many times during the week.
can relate to. An unfortunate incident turned their
In the end, they wrote down three possible outcomes from which they could choose: 1.
2.
They would sit tight and wait to see what
lives upside down. This is the same thing that
transpired. They would use Noel to represent
could happen to any family anywhere at any time
them in a civil or a criminal case or both if
in the world we live in today.
that was the case. It would cost them much
Ask yourself, if it happened to you, which choice
of their savings and perhaps even their
would you make?
house.
Think about it. It’s not too far-fetched or
They would leave the country on an
preposterous. It could happen to you in your
extended vacation and worry about the next
home.
move when it happened. Maybe come back, maybe not. In the worst-case scenario, this
So, I ask again, “WHAT WOULD YOU DO?”
plan could put their assets at risk.
Morris Morris is a man who believed the exciting life he had once had enjoyed, was ending. A chance meeting with Sheila, an ensuing romance, a friend’s death, and an unusual business idea, transforms Morris Morris. Getting to know Morris Morris may save you a bundle of money! Amazon UK Amazon USA
DARK WORD S Dark Tales, Darker Poetry Dark days come to us all at some time in our lives. Heartbreak, grief, fear, loss, pain and anxiety collide and conspire, individually and collectively to bring us down. We feel the battles rage within ourselves; they fight and scream in a tortured anguish of emotional turmoil.Solace is often found alone, in dimly lit rooms, with mellow songs playing over and again. Reading Dark words, sharing the pain within these tales, help us dry our own tears, to drive away the clouds of uncertainty and crush the demons which haunt our souls. To accept and acknowledge the blackest days of our lives often reveals the pathway from the shadow maze of obscure reflection, into the sunlight of possible future. Dark days come to us all, at some time in our lives. They are not the place for us to dwell for too long.
They are not our home.
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I am a Bookworm ( by Anymouse ) The writer of this essay wishes to remain anonymous. Nerd, Brainiac, loser. I heard those words frequently but they never bothered me, as they may hurt others, because I am a bookworm and proud of it. Reading comes naturally to me, almost like breathing. I remember the books I've read since I was five and how much I loved each of them. It used to be a great treat to wake up early on Saturday mornings to go to the garage sales with my mom. The only items I looked for were books; picture books, fairy-tale books, easy chapter books and hardcovers, many I would have to wait a few years to read. They were all wonderful and special treasures; I was extremely proud of my growing
collection. I'm proud because I am a bookworm. Reading has always been a great way to escape everyday life without actually leaving. All it takes is a little imagination and since I have plenty of that, reading has always been fun. When I got to middle school, with my large collection, maybe large enough to call my own library? my parents began fighting more frequently. I started devouring books even more. On the weekends I would check out three books from the library to keep me occupied.
My favourite author was R. L. Stine, especially
the books I have read, or will read, bring me
his "Fear Street" series which I read and reread,
pleasure. Literature is the books that made me
and if it were a really good one, which most are,
smile, laugh, cry, and the ones which made me
I would read it yet again.
angry. I remember not being able to finish
For some reason, I never seemed to hear my
Fahrenheit 451 because in it they burned all
parents fighting, (it was worsening
books. I found this atrocious‌ destroying
each day, as were the horrid
knowledge.
names my parents called each
Literature got me through my parents' divorce
other), while I was reading, but as soon as I
and kept me (somewhat) sane. Without books I
put down the book I was all too aware of what was happening. Now I am beyond what I regard as some of the
probably would have ripped my hair out. So, I wholeheartedly give thanks to authors of the wonderful literature I enjoy every day.
roughest of my teenage years, I don't need
I know whenever I need to escape, all I need is
reading as an escape anymore. Now I can read
to open a book and turn the pages.
for sheer pleasure. Since I've learned so much
from reading, I feel really lucky, as though I have an advantage others don't. I am lucky because I am a bookworm. What literature means to me is very simple; all
I will always proudly remember; I am a bookworm.
A Tr u e S t o r y f r o m Gabrielle Griffin The escarpment snaked beside the 4WD on the
‘Look it up honey, while I just navigate them.’
remote highway, arching its back as though to strike.
‘Very funny. You know there’s no more reception,
Bush fire scent smudged the air, while skinny gum
only the emergency beacon if we need it, and we’d
trees and sand palms looked more vulnerable
better not need…’
without the usual messy groundcover of grasses and fallen leaves. ‘The turn’s coming up soon on your phone map,’ Kelly said, frowning at the blue pulsing dot. ‘Actually, right now!’
The car shuddered as Sam swung it hard onto a narrow red road, disturbing birds of prey. More blackened eucalypts scattered along both edges of the track, with pops of green grass tufting through the ashes.
‘Look at those kites, Kel, circling for food,’ she said,
lowering the electric windows. ‘We can probably hear them whistling… yes… such a Darwin sound, and now you’re hearing it at last, at the ripe old age of fifty-three. Better late to the Top End than never hey?’
Kelly snatched back the rest of her words, as they mounted a dirt rise, swung down the peak like foolhardy surfers, churned through a creek as high as the door bottoms, and bounced out the other side of the trough with water streaming off the car panels as fast as the fine red dust could powder them again. ‘We’re here,’ Sam said, skidding to a halt beside the tenth crocodile warning sign they’d seen. The adjacent Welcome to Country sign announced that they were on Larrakia Land. ‘I want to be hiking in thirty minutes, so let’s cram breakfast as quick as we can; it’s already nearly ten, and that sun’s only getting hotter.’ By noon, with twelve-kilo packs each of camping supplies, toiletries, spare clothes, and dehydrated
They both smiled, then Sam shifted into low gear, as
food, both women were sweating and quiet. Birds
waves of corrugations began to shake every nut, bolt,
complained about their intrusion, darting among
tent peg and trail snack they had.
shrubs as if warning the earth to brace herself for unfamiliar feet. The river along which the pair
Two hours later, bouncing in the passenger seat, Kelly asked, ‘Isn’t there an optimum speed to cross these ruts on? Didn’t I read it somewhere?’
travelled was flowing fast through the gorge, as centuries of natural energy carved a path of least resistance.
Then Sam stopped, hands on hips, and squinted into the distance. ‘Shit, I don’t think we can get through along here after all. Let me look at the map and compass again.’ She frowned at the contour lines on the creased page, telling her a story of steep cliffs and gullies, without revealing the safest route.
‘Sorry honey, but the only way we’ll get past that massive overhang is to tackle the stone country along the top of the ridge. It’s a bit like
KAKADU
a jigsaw puzzle up there, which you can never solve. Brace yourself.’ Kelly clenched her jaw for a second.
sideways; as she fell to her knees with a rush of
‘I never knew off-track walking was quite this tough,’
adrenalin, a newspaper headline staccatoed through
she admitted. ‘Especially for old ladies like us.’
her brain:
Sam smiled at the familiar joke, but her forehead
‘Two women in their fifties died of heat exhaustion
worried, as they tightened waist straps and headed
bushwalking in Kakadu, within 300 metres of fresh water.’
away from the water without looking back.
No! That was not going to happen, she thought, Within thirty minutes, thighs screamed with lactic acid as they scrambled over boulders and fallen tree
branches, spearing through chest-high spinifex grass.
feeling panic surge through her body. ‘Sam, help me up please. I’m scared we’re getting too far from the river. Can we go back down?’
Previous hypothetical worries about snakes were replaced by very real battles with swarming green ants, dropping from their leaf-woven nests to nip at soft skin. The heat lay heavy, while they fought the relentless gravity of their packs on tender hip bones. Squeezing between granite crevasses, trying to keep up with Sam, Kelly soon realized both water bottles were nearly empty, and cursed herself for not refilling them. Suddenly she wobbled from one loose rock to another, feeling the weight on her back pitching her
‘No, we’ve no choice. I know this is fucking hard work, but we just have to find a way round…’ Another hour passed, as they crashed, pushed, and flailed against the stone country. The sun blasted them from both sky and rock, while vines tangled
their feet, knee flesh was bloodied and scratched, and their cotton shirts grew wet. ‘I almost want to vomit. I need a rest. But we haven’t got any water. This is so stupid Sam!’ Kelly’s voice choked.
Sam licked her lips and wiped sweat from her red
‘This is better than any Christmas ever, even as a
face.
kid,’ she yelled.
‘I’m sorry. But we’re gonna make it. Let’s throw our
Sam paused, then went on ahead to check the way
packs down this ledge, swing off that tree branch,
forward, barely stopping to refill her bottle and
and hope that gully is manageable…’ Her confident
guzzle.
voice quietened as they contemplated their fading
She returned with heavy steps.
options. ‘It seems like the bush doesn’t want us here; as if
the ancestors are hating our invasion, and we’re being punished. I feel like such a dumb white-fella.’ Kelly began to cry. ‘It’s OK. This is just the first big challenge. We can
‘I don’t wanna say this, but there’s another overhang coming up, so we can’t continue. We can either go back up and across, or…’ ‘No. Not a chance. I’d rather camp here on these hot rocks for a week than go back up to that stony hell!’
do it darlin.’ Sam squeezed her hand, and just for a
Sam grinned.
moment the hum and throb of the tough landscape
‘I thought you’d say that. But you’re not going to
settled. ‘We are welcome here Kel; we’ve paid our
like our only other option: to inflate a sleeping mat,
respects, we are treading lightly on the earth, and
unpack both bags, then float everything to the
we’re good people. The spirits don’t want us dead.
other side and start again over there. Can you
Now come on: pass me your pack, and let’s get
handle it?’
back to that water.’ Their palms scraped skin across branches and boulders as they launched into the dark ravine.
Down, down, down they slithered, heaving their bags ahead of them, legs protesting at the speed and brutality of the descent. A spiky pandanus drew blood across Kelly’s cheek, and Sam’s ankle twisted hard in the scrabbling, but at last they burst through the scrub to touch the smooth rock edges of the river again.
The words hung in the air like smoke from the grass fires they’d driven through earlier. They both sighed, as if seeking strength from their bone
marrow. Sam watched the other woman, who pulled herself from the stream, water sliding down her battered legs, standing like a witchetty grub against the grey granite. It felt as though the earth was waiting for Kelly’s answer as well. Grass trees leaned in, while Rainbow Bee-eaters swooped and dived for insects, tail streamers reflected in the pristine waters.
Kelly’s whole body trembled as she stripped naked and jumped into the creek, gulping mouthfuls of water as she cooled down and almost cried with relief.
‘Let’s do it,’ she said. ‘You swim, I’ll load and unload.’ The eucalypts, rocks, and native shrubs stood sentinel while the women toiled back and forth.
They felt the sting go out of the sun as their bodies
cliffs they’d just battled.
cooled and shivered. They repacked, gobbled sticky
It had been a close call. They both knew it.
dried bananas, then dragged themselves round the Kelly looked up at the sacred paintings, imagining
next river bend.
the ceremonies that had taken place for millennia And there they saw it: silver gum trees fringing a
right where they sat. The land waited again for her
white sand beach, gently sloping to a clear blue
to speak. Grass trees leaned in, while Rainbow Bee-
pool, sheltered by cream sandstone walls, with a
eaters swooped and dived for insects.
natural campsite marked out by flat sitting rocks. She slipped to one knee on the dirt, and reached for
Scratched rock paintings showed fat kangaroos and fish. Palm prints outlined in splattered ochre dotted
Sam’s hand.
the caves, as if protecting the site. In exhausted
‘Will you marry me?’ she whispered, ‘Now that
silence, they stood before the art, and held hands
we’re allowed at last. Can you handle it?’
for a moment. Then they sparked a fire and made
Grass trees leaned in. And Country waited once
billy tea. They took turns adding wood, slumped side
more.
by side, staring into the flames, or over at the sharp
Gabrielle has been writing since her first memorable poem at age 4 in red and green textas. She’s a performer, puppeteer, Pilates
instructor, stilt-walker, MC, blogger at ‘bone&silver’ (true queer tales of a feisty over-50), and most importantly, a short-story writer. Several of her stories have been shortlisted or in the top 3 in Australian competitions and compilations, and she continues to strive at the craft.
https://boneandsilver.com/
Goodbye for now
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