Connections eMagazine September 2024 Edition

Connections eMagazine

Message from the Editor

The Purpose of this eMagazine is to connect readers and bloggers with authors. This is a FREE eMagazine that is produced quarterly. In this edition, we celebrate autumn, good stories and extraordinary talents. Summer is nearly behind us and the holidays are just around the corner. Why not take a break to read a short story, discover a new author, or download a new release?

“I think books are like people, in the sense that they’ll turn up in your life when you most need them.”

– Emma Thompson

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Maasai Warrior Expedition…

Learn what it’s like to be a Maasai, from ancient traditions to modern times while immersed in the beauty of Africa (Page 6).

Author Interviews…

Meet critically acclaimed authors: Bjorn Leesson (Pg 26), Charles Palliser (Pg 62), Russell Little (Pg 82), Lynda Monahan (Pg 92), Dennis Higgins (Pg 104), and the writing duo Judy and Gil Snider (Pg 122).

• Paying it Forward — A Tale of 4 hearts by Melanie P. Smith

• Diversity Doodles by Briony Kay

• 77 1/2 Herbs — Hedgenettle by Ronesa Aveela

• Blood Brothers by Tom Benson

• AI By Kenny Wilson

• The Mouse Family that Live by the Brambles by Gez Robinson

• Illustrated Idioms by Susan Faw

• The Spirit Without Time By Dennis Higgins

• Growing Bookworms by Robbie Cheadle

•

Editorial Team

EDITOR –IN– CHIEF

Melanie P. Smith

https://melaniepsmith.com/

CONTENT EDITOR

Sylva Fae

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COPY EDITOR

LaPriel Dye

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SOCIAL MEDIA COORDINATOR

Emalee Jensen REVIEWS..

Author Anthony Avina's Blog https://authoranthonyavinablog.com

Tamara Foster https://tamarafoster.substack.com

PUBLISHER..

MPSmith Publishing PARTNERS

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MPSmith Publishing and Connections eMagazine does not endorse any information contained in the articles or advertisements throughout this magazine. All content is Copyright © by the individual authors and used with their permission. All rights reserved. This is an International publication. Language is based on submission region.

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A Adventure

Earlier this year, three of my good friends, Kerry Tillson, Jodie Bear and David Thompson, went on an epic expedition to a Maasai village in the Rift Valley of Kenya. It was a trip of a lifetime, made possible by the UK bushcraft company, Woodland Ways. All three described the Maasai expedition as a truly incredible and emotional trip, where they forged treasured friendships, lived the Maasai way, and left with great memories.

About the adventurers

David Thompson is the owner of Bushcraft Magazine and The Bushcraft Show. He is a passionate environmentalist and animal lover/conservationist with an unbridled love of the outdoors, reading, music and expeditions/adventure travelling. ‘Being at the fulcrum of the bushcraft industry I work closely with and support on multiple levels, the wonderful crew that is Women in Bushcraft and hold Jason Ingamells and his team at Woodland Ways (WW) in the very highest regard.

Kerry Tillson is the founder of Women in Bushcraft (WIB). She enjoys all things outdoors and loves going on adventures. She is passionate about encouraging and showing women, and minority groups, that there is a place for them within the world of bushcraft and the outdoors. Kerry is also the Office & Event Manager for The Bushcraft Show.

The Maasai Warriors Expedition

Jodie Bear has spent several years as an assistant at Staffordshire Bushcraft & Survival, and is now keen to join the Woodland Ways team. She enjoys wild camping in her hammock, accompanied by her trusty fourlegged companion, Dudley.

1) What prompted you to go on the Woodland Ways Maasai Warrior expedition?

David: It was an opportunity that could not be missed.

For many years I was married to a British Airways Hostess and have had the great fortune to travel to Kenya many times but the nature of working for the airline meant that my visits to Kenya were largely confined to two nights in Nairobi. I wanted desperately to see the real Kenya and to meet people outside of the capital city.

In a joint venture with Jason Ingamells at WW, we had planned to bring over a number of villagers to UK in May/June of this year. This trip afforded opportunity to talk to the villagers about the trip, the plans and to understand their concerns & expectations. I know Jason very well as an individual and as a business partner and have been on expeditions before with him. He is a leader who shares many similarities to myself - especially where people are concerned. He has a huge heart! By the same token, I also knew a number of other people who would be accompanying me to Rift Valley - Kerry (Bushcraft Show Manager and one of the founder members of WIB), Jodie, Ian, Kirsty & Lizzy. I had also had the pleasure of meeting three of the Maasai villagers who made the trip to The Bushcraft Show in 2014 and wanted to see them on their home soil.

Kerry: I went on the trip in a dual capacity as both a representative of The Bushcraft Magazine & Show and assistant of David Thompson, and as a client of Woodland Ways.

Jodie: I had my sights on other expeditions with Woodland Ways before Kenya, I honestly thought I would be too unfit or just out of my depth to attend, it has always been something I'd dreamed about, but never really thought it was something you could do, or that I could do it. It was finding out a couple of special friends of mine were also going, that I knew I'd be able to cope with their support.

2) Did you have any prior expectations of what the expedition would be like?

David: Yes. I expected it to be highly educational on a cultural level, physically arduous, very hot and emotionally extremely challenging. It disappointed not!

Kerry: I genuinely did not know what to expect. But I did understand the underlying reason for the trip in that the funds go towards supporting the community and empowering them to make decisions as a thriving community.

Jodie: In terms of prior expectations, I selfishly only thought about the experiences I would get out of the trip. I didn’t really understand the real reason the expeditions were set up for, and that is helping to empower a community, as the funds from the trip go directly into the village, and also showing the Maasai people that there are people who show great interest in their culture and traditions.

3) Can you describe the environment and what life is like in a Maasai village?

David: The village is located quite literally against the rocky outcrops and hills which form the very eastern edge of the rift valley. Apart from these undulations, the landscape is relatively flat (as is the majority of the valley), the trees and brush are short and stunted, the earth is in parts fertile, and in other parts, barren and arid.

Our encampment was in what is called a boma which is essentially a stockade of a couple of hundred metres under the shade of some small trees (largely Acacia) and bordered by hand -cut VERY thorny brush, which is laid out to surround the camp in an effort to keep out wildlife (cats, baboons, monkeys & hyenas amongst other animals) and the goats, cows and sheep, which graze the land around the village.

The children from the village school rise early, sometimes have a modest breakfast of a type of porridge or milk and then are expected to let the livestock out of their overnight enclosures before going to school (the kids that is!) The animals would then be tended to by the men until early afternoon, when the kids would take over the shepherding duties until dusk when the livestock would be herded back into their enclosures overnight.

Interestingly, the baby goats would be taken away from their mother shortly after birth and kept in the modest houses (largely corrugated tin or what we know as wattle & daub built structures) with the villagers. This was on account of safety - the hyenas and other predators recognise the birth sounds and smells and will take the baby animals instantly - the other reason is that the villagers rely heavily on the milk produced by their herds. The more the babies drink, the less there will be for human consumption.

Life in the village is tough - especially for the women who have to do the shopping, tend to the vegetable plots, fix the houses and, before WW helped fund the installation of a water bore hole behind the school (again largely built with funds raised by WW), would have to make a daily trek of many kilometres to the nearest bore hole to bring water back to the village. Maasai men are, upon their own admission, fairly lazy. They like trading animals and talking!

Kerry: Village life was very slow and not the usual hustle and bustle we are generally used to seeing in our everyday modern lives. There’s a very good reason though: it's very hot and very dry. The heat just zaps the energy right out of you. Maasai culture is very different to ours and they demonstrated on a daily basis, aspects of our culture I feel we are losing – that sense of community, looking out for each other and respecting your elders. It was really nice to see a community that knew each other well, that respectfully greeted each other and that really cared for and supported each other. The village itself was vast savannah plains and consisted of a number of family bomas each with several houses. Some had goats, a few had cattle.

Jodie: It's very hot and dry, however we went a few weeks after heavy rain, the first after a very long drought, so it was surprisingly green. This also led to a huge number of white butterflies, it was like a fever dream sometimes, seeing desert rock formations, but then having thriving greenery around you with hundreds of butterflies flying around – a memory that will stick with me. The village is spread over a decent size land mass, with many bomas with several houses in each. Our camp was situated in what I would consider to be the middle of the spread -out village.

4) What are the Maasai people like?

David: The people are some of the loveliest humans one could wish to meet. They are open, tactile, loving and gregarious. A joy to be with and I miss them each and every day. The adults are as keen to learn about our culture as we are of theirs. The children, like children worldwide, are fun loving, adventurous, want for little apart from food and love and shelter, and for me, being with them was THE absolute highlight of the trip. Jason has the expedition organised exceptionally well but on a personal level, I would have happily spent the whole trip playing with the children, helping in the school, teaching them and learning from them.

Kerry: The particular Maasai tribe we were staying with were such beautiful friendly people and they made us feel so incredibly welcome. They were so happy and so keen to show us all about their culture and traditions. When we arrived at our camp, we found the whole village, including the elders, there to greet us. It was a very emotional moment and one that will stay with me. Every single member of the village came to us in turn to shake our hand and welcome us. We then introduced ourselves in turn to the village. Myself and the two other females in the group were given Maasai names at this village greeting. I was given the name Namaiyan which means ‘Blessed one’. They called me this throughout the whole time we stayed with them.

Jodie: The Maasai are formidable people, just in their history, that said, I found this particular village very welcoming, friendly and keen to show us their traditions.

5) What activities did you get involved in?

David: We visited local markets and towns/villages, an incredible open -air museum, went on

daily safaris, star gazing, language lessons, trips to their gorgeous church and school, plant walks/talks, cooking and hanging -out in the boma sharing our thoughts, our hopes and fears, our love.

Kerry: We did so many things on the trip. Prior to our journey to the village, we went to the Ngong Hills and our guide Daniel gave us an overview of the Maasai and their history. We also visited Olorgesailie a pre-historic site with its displays of pre-historic materials including numerous hand axes, fossilized skeletons of extinct species of elephants and hippopotamus dating back from 1.2 million years ago.

Whilst in the village we learned about the Maasai culture, their land and how they live. We visited the children at the school that was funded by Woodland Ways and it was great to hear how it has expanded from its initial one classroom with six children to I think nine classrooms, with over a hundred children. A village elder took us on a night sky walk, where he explained their meanings of the stars, I can recall smiling to myself at the time as it just reminded me of the scene in the Lion King where Mufasa explains the meaning of the stars to Simba.

We would often drive out at dusk across the Savannah to see what wildlife we could find, and saw lots of giraffe, zebra, numerous type of gazelles and even ostrich. At the end of the trip, we spent our final night in tented accommodation within Nairobi National Park where we also got to experience the very “touristy” safari experience, getting up very early on our final morning to go on a safari drive around the national park.

Jodie: The entire expedition is jam-packed full of activities; learning about the Maasai culture, their land, and how they live. These are just a few of the activities we got involved with: we helped clad a house with a mixture of cow manure and fire ash, explored the night sky, when an elder of the village came and explained their meanings of the stars, and visited the school, meeting all the children. In between all this, there was time to see all the fauna (animal life) just outside of the village. Some sessions happened on the fly too, for instance, our group took an interest in the Maasai’s own language, called Maa, a language, only used by the Maasai people, so a session was arranged to teach the group some Maa.

6) Where did you sleep and what did you eat?

David: We erected and slept in our own tents which we took with us from UK. It was seriously hot at night times, uncomfortably so at times. We couldn’t undo the zips for fear of welcoming unwanted snakes, scorpions and perhaps something equally undesirable. The cooling nighttime winds, which Jason had promised, didn’t materialise but despite that, it was tremendous fun.

Ann Mosiro and her team of helpers (Maasai community) were up at 0500 to light the fire and get the traditional Kenyan chai (tea) going. In Kenya, it seems that anytime is chai time - a little like it is in England, I guess. All cooking was done over open fire using a traditional 3-rocks formation with the small fire set in the middle and the pots/ pans balanced on the rocks.

We ate three hot meals per day. Breakfast would be something like mandazi which is quite similar to a doughnut. A flour based sweet infused with cardamon & coconut and deep fried. This was my favourite - mouthwatering when accompanied by local honey and fresh mango. Lunch would be perhaps a dish of ugali - a maize based firm porridge type of ball, served with meat and vegetables. Dinner was a typically more meat -based dishes of githeri - a one pot of meat (Kenyans love meat which was mildly challenging for us non-meat eaters), onions, potato, corn and beans. This was often served with rice or delicious homemade chapati cooked on a slab or heavy skillet

All meals were of course accompanied by offerings of chai.

Kerry: Our camp area was situated under an escarpment and once we had arrived and set up our tents, men within the village proceeded to lay acacia boughs around the outer edge to create our own boma to keep us safe from any unwanted visitors.

Food was cooked for us by our hosts. We ate a lot of rice, potatoes and cabbage, and a lot of soya as a meat substitute as we had no fridge to keep meat fresh. On our final evening, a village elder provided a goat which was sacrificed by the men of the village, roasted on the fire and then offered to us, and it tasted absolutely amazing.

Breakfast was my favourite meal of the day, with freshly made mandazi, which I can only describe as similar to a small fried donut and we had this with drizzled honey and fresh mangos. It was so good. Some evenings we were invited to eat in the homes of people we met in the village. This was generally chapati and milky chai (tea) was always served.

Jodie: Sleeping wise, we had the shade of several acacia trees to create our tented camp, you bring your own tent then create a circle of felled acacia (a spikey native plant with 1 -inch minimum thorns) is placed around camp to create a "boma" to help protect camp from unwanted visitors. Food was cooked for us by our hosts, and some evenings we were invited to eat in the homes of people we met in the village, chapati and chai (a tea) was always served. We ate an array of traditional Kenyan food that was bought from the market we visited before heading into the village. The mangos were some of the sweetest I've ever tasted

7) Did you face any difficulties?

David: The only real difficulties I faced were only challenges of the heart. Deep rooted but yes, emotional.

Kerry: Absolutely, the heat was very difficult to deal with and the terrain within the village was tough on my knees, so I was a little slower than some of the other members in the group.

The most difficult part of the whole trip was when I got home. The trip had such a profound effect on me. It humbled me and made me self-reflect on lots of aspects of myself and my life. It has made me put life into perspective and I now strive every day to be a better mother, wife, friend, neighbour and colleague.

Jodie: I won't lie, it was tough, the midday heat zaps the life out of you if you're not in the shade, and being a bigger woman, this came with difficulties, both in exhaustion and stamina, but I knew it was going to be tough, so I tried my best.

8) What was the highlight of the trip for you?

David: The highlight for me was on multiple levels but if you force me to choose then I am going to run with:

The day we spent in the school that WW had built. It was emotional in a way that I cannot describe. Ian showered them with gifts of toys, balls, pens, etc that he had blagged from Tesco, Kerry, Jodie & Kirsty spending hours singing and dancing with the kids, Harry and the other lads on the expedition played frisbee and ball, and I helped serve them lunch of rice & beans after which the kids would run off the bore hole/ bowser to drink copious amounts of cool water and to wash their meal plates. (Ian, Kirsty and Harry were also part of the expedition.)

Spending time with the children and the animals. We would spend hours climbing the rocky escarpment, kicking a ball on the dusty plains or chatting to them about their herding duties - just simple stuff like ‘what do you want to be when you grow up? (a universal question to kids maybe?).

Sunday church service. I am a non -believer but being in the tin structure with the whole village turned-out in the respondent Maasai finery, singing dancing (us included) produced tears-a-plenty.

As I stepped off the truck upon our arrival at the boma, my eyes met those of a beautiful little two-year-old boy (he will be three on 16th September and I so wish I could be there with a birthday cake for him).

It was love at first sight. The sight of this bundle of joy, and the smile he flashed me, had me choking on the lump in my throat. I am hoping very much, through The Woodland Ways Bushcraft Foundation charity that Jason set-up some 15 years ago,

to help support the little lad through the village school. I spent as much time with him as I could and miss him terribly. His mother (Jacqueline) and father (John) regularly feed me updates/photos of Phillip. I have a photo of him on my wall and I have a painting of him in my heart.

Meeting Grace. Having met Grace’s parents (Ann & Daniel) at The Bushcraft Show a decade ago, it was one of THE greatest pleasures to become acquainted with this delightful young lady. I could not resist the temptation but to assist Jason in bringing her over to England alongside her mum and dad. Grace turned 18 whilst she was here in June and we held a party for her at my house. Jodie & Kerry may have captured some photos but there was a totally surreal moment during late afternoon in the garden when like magic, a double bass, cellos, violins and numerous guitars appeared. Our Maasai friends instantly formed their own band and ‘played’ for us to howls of laughter and some silly dancing. Grace’s photo also ‘graces’ my wall. I love her like my own.

Kerry: There were lots of highlights because it was such an amazing experience and was nothing like anything else I have ever done. But I think I ’d say the highlight was being accepted at the end of our stay as a member of the Maasai family, and now having a lifelong connection to them.

We flew ten members of the village over to attend The Bushcraft Show at the end of May, and I got to greet them at the airport. To see their faces light up when they saw me and to hear them calling “Namaiyan” made my eyes fill up.

Jodie: This is a tough one, there are so many amazing memorable things that even nine months on, I'm still processing it. There were so many, but the times that will stick with me are the ones unplanned, just in the down time you have. One was when we were invited to a host ’s home for chai, food and a story. At one point all the kids came to the door of the home and started singing a song called "Nareyio". When we first got to the village, some of us were give Maasai names, I was given the name, Nareyio, and its meaning is "the one who brings strength/ power". Having the kids sing that song to me, out of the blue, will stay with me for a lifetime.

Another instance was when I was recording the view on my phone, while sat outside the school, I accidently flipped the camera around to selfie mode and saw a few of the kids silently hanging out of the window behind me, and I’d been completely unaware of them being there. I started to pull faces at them through the phone camera and they started to copy me – it was a really candid moment of humans being silly and curious.

9) What would you say to anyone thinking of going on a Woodland Ways’ Maasai Expedition?

David: As the sports slogan goes, 'JUST DO IT’ but do be sure to take copious amounts of … tissues!

Kerry: I would say “Go”. It is not only a fantastic trip with lots to do, but it is ultimately for a fantastic cause. It will genuinely change your whole outlook on life.

Jodie: If you're someone who can go at things with an open mind, it ’s not to be missed. It is a challenge, but I can say, as cheesy as it sounds, that trip changed my outlook on life.

A Maasai Trip to England

During his visit to Kenya, David Thompson discussed with Jason Ingamells, plans to bring some of the Maasai over to England, to join us at The Bushcraft Show. Having become good friends with the community, Kerry, David and Jodie were involved in ensuring their trip to England was as much of a positive experience for the Maasai, as theirs was in Kenya. Kerry met them at the airport, and Jodie was tasked with being their guide around The Bushcraft Show, a role she loved, but it was no easy task, given that everyone wanted to stop and chat with the Maasai – myself included – and David had the honour of hosting Grace’s 18th birthday party at his home. All three of them cherished the opportunity to show their Maasai family the same hospitality they ’d received.

It was an amazing opportunity for people like me to get a feel for their culture and meet them on home ground, as well as giving the Maasai the opportunity to experience some of our English culture. I discovered just how friendly they were, and my daughter in particular spent most of the show with her new friends, chatting and learning how to make the beautiful beaded jewellery they wear. I still proudly wear my Maasai necklace as a reminder of meeting these amazing people.

In addition to teaching people how to make jewellery, they gave fascinating and informative talks, and performed some impressive traditional songs and dances, that involved jumping high in the air. Their presence at the show added a vibrancy, not just from the colourful traditional costumes they wore, but from the joy they shared with everyone they spoke to. Meeting Ann Mosiro, her daughter Grace, and the rest of the family, was a huge highlight for me, and one that made it the best Bushcraft Show so far.

https://thebushcraftshow.co.uk/

About Woodland Ways

Woodland Ways is a leading bushcraft company, run by Jason Ingamells and a small team of highly experienced individuals. They offer a diverse range of bushcraft and survival courses, both in the UK and overseas. In addition to their courses, Woodland Ways also offers expeditions to places such as Kenya, the Amazon Jungle, Sahara Desert, Yukon River, Sweden and Croatia. These expeditions give people the chance to experience life in environments very different to our own, and learn the skills to survive there. They run two expeditions to Kenya, the Maasai Warriors Expedition that my friends went on, and the Maasai Women’s Story Expedition – a women only trip, led by women to gain an insight into the life and history of the Maasai women.

The Woodland Ways Bushcraft Foundation is a charity set up to help the Maasai community to support themselves. While financial support is given, the projects are not run by Jason Ingamells and his team, they are merely there to give their Maasai friends the opportunities to improve their community in their own way. Funds raised from the expeditions go back to the community to help with new projects.

https://woodland-ways.co.uk/

About the Maasai Warriors Expedition, from the Woodland Ways website:

“Join the Woodland Ways Team as we venture out to the cradle of human kind and the historic homeland of the Maasai as we visit the Rift Valley in Kenya and stay within a Maasai village. Throughout the expedition you will learn what it is like to be a Maasai, from the ancient traditions to the modern Maasai, you will be fully immersed into Africa and all its beauty. ”

https://woodland-ways.co.uk/collections/expedition-courses/products/maasaiexpedition

Thank you to David Thompson, Kerry Tillson and Jodie Bear for sharing their amazing adventures. Thank you also to Jason Ingamells and his Maasai family.

Photographs by David, Kerry and Jodie and myself.

We had some great entries for our last challenge. If you didn’t get a chance to read them, you should take a minute to check them out. Congratulations to Val Tobin for getting the most reader votes on her submission. You can read the winning story as well as all the other entries here…

https://view.publitas.com/mpsmith-publishing/ connections-emagazine-2nd-quarter-2024/page/54-55

1st Place Rapid Release Val Tobin

2nd Place The Pitch Sylva Fae

3rd Place Harriet Tom Benson

Everyone has heard the saying A Picture is Worth 1000 Words. Well, this is where we put that saying to the test. In each edition we post an image and ask authors to tell a story in approximately 1000 words some are a little longer, some a little shorter. Each story is unique, compelling and interesting. It just goes to show, while the picture might be worth a thousand words those words can be as diverse as the authors writing them.

Keep reading to discover amazing authors and their stories based on the picture provided. And be sure to visit our Facebook page or our website to vote for your favorite.

https://www.facebook.com/ConnectionsEMagazine

https://melaniepsmith.com/1000-words/

https://valtobin.com/wp

Lonely at the Top

Val Tobin

Barefoot, her long brown hair cascading in tousled waves down her back, the woman in the black dress ascended the stone staircase one slow step at a time. Dirt smudged the bottoms of her feet. Grubby soles aside, she could’ve come from an evening at a fancy dinner or a wedding. Black satin ribbons belted her waist, cinched the material at her knees, and draped down the ivory skin of her back. Moonlight cast an eerie glow onto the walls bracketing the stairs. Ivy clung to everything, even encroaching on the steps themselves. At the top, a row of lighted candles beckoned before a pair of heavy wooden doors set inside a carved archway. The scent of dirt, decay, and dampness wafted through the air.

My presence, next to a tree at the edge of the forest, didn’t register with her maybe never would. I’d tried to interrupt her nightly journey twice before but had failed each time. Mustering my courage, I bounded up the steps, the air growing chillier the closer I got to her.

“Maura,” I called.

Almost at the top, she didn’t pause in her steady climb. This time, I’d brought a trinket she’d owned, a gift from her sister. I clutched the locket in my fist, the Claddagh’s crown pressing almost painfully into my palm. “Maura.”

She reached the landing. Pressed her hands against the doors and pushed. I had to be quick. If she didn’t notice me, it would end tonight the way it had before, in an airless nothing and frustrating failure.

“Janice sent me. She gave me this.” I held the necklace in front of Maura’s face and swore her eyes widened.

For the first time since I’d tried to reach her, she paused her endless quest and faced me. Our eyes met. Hers flashed fear at the sight of the tall, bulky man before her. My appearance frequently intimidates women, and we were in a secluded spot at night. I didn’t let her reaction offend me.

She sucked in a breath, and the temperature dropped another few degrees. I shuddered. My mind had blanked, so I said, “Look,” and held up the bauble.

“Mine?”

“Yes. Do you know what happened? ”

“I must hide.” She tried to shove the doors open, and this time, she succeeded. When she moved to step over the candles, I knew she was fully present. I’d placed them there. She’d tried to step through, not over, them on my prior attempts to waylay her.

“Stop!”

She froze at my command but remained facing the space beyond the doors. Soft yellow candlelight spilled inside, illuminating only a dank stone floor and an obviously empty room.

“Do you know what happened? Why you’re here?” I asked.

Her voice held uncertainty. “I had to get away. I wanted to find Paul.” She meant her boyfriend.

“That’s not quite correct. Think. Remember.” I searched for something more helpful and blurted out, “I can help you.”

She turned to me then. “How? Who are you?”

“A friend of your sister’s. She asked me to come.” I hesitated to say anything more. It could startle her into regressing, and I’d have to repeat the whole thing tomorrow.

“Janice?”

“Yes. She loves you and wants to help you.”

Maura’s gaze softened, and her expression turned to relief. “We argued, you know.”

“I do.”

“I ran out on her. From the …”

“Go on.” I nodded encouragement.

“Wedding. Her wedding.”

“She’s not angry, Maura. You’d both had a lot to drink.”

For the first time, she took in her surroundings. Really looked.

“He Oh, God. I was in a car. I …” She stared down at her bare feet. “I got away.”

I’d never met Maura, but my throat constricted at her loss.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t,” I choked out.

“No. I escaped. I ran up the stairs, hid here.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again because I truly was.

She whirled away from me and entered the room. “I made it. I shut the doors.”

I let silence fall, afraid if I spoke, she’d lose the memories. We’d come so far; I refused to start over.

She moaned, a gut-wrenching cry of anguish. “Someone else was here. He herded me here.” She hunched forward, bracing her hands on her thighs. Maura raised her head, meeting my eyes again. “Why? On the night of my sister’s wedding?”

“Opportunity. You and Janice argued, and you walked out angry, drunk, ready to accept help from a stranger. He saw you walking and pulled up beside you.”

Memories flooded into her then. “He told me my boyfriend sent him.”

“Except he hadn’t, had he?” I had to be careful. I had to help her remember, not force her to. She shook her head. “He chased me in here. He knew I’d head for the door when I jumped from the car.”

With another moan, she sank to her knees. Pressed her hands to her throat. In a whisper, she said, “They killed me.” A sob escaped her, and she pressed her palms to her face.

I dropped to the ground beside her, daring to place my hand gently on her shoulder. “The police caught them, Maura. They’re in prison.”

“I’m dead.” She dropped her arms, but when she met my gaze, her eyes were dry. “Who are you?”

“A psychic medium. I’m here to help you.”

“To remember?” she asked in a tiny voice.

“To cross,” I whispered. “You’re ready now.”

I took her hands in mine and closed my eyes. In my mind, I filled the room with light and called on her departed loved ones. I kept my lids shut tight and only opened them when I heard her cry out in delight.

“Grandma, it’s beautiful.” She faded from my grasp.

I remained standing there for a long time, my hands holding only air.

Bjorn Leesson

Interviewed by Melanie P. Smith

Bjorn was born in the Lowcountry of South Carolina a long, long time ago. He has worked in manufacturing all his working life to feed himself but has nourished his mind with the study of many topics; history of all eras, the paranormal, astronomy, writing of different types, photography, archeology, genealogy, vexillology, some other -ologies, even stock car racing for a couple of years, and on and on. Bjorn finds just about everything fascinating in some way and has been accused of being too easily entertained. A blend of a few of his interests led to the creation of the Thalsparr Universe. The first installment of the series will be “Runes of the Dokkrsdottir,” with a release date to be determined. He currently lives in the Midlands of South Carolina with his wife of 25 years on their hobby farm.

Are you a multi-genre author or a single-genre author? What types of books do you write?

This is actually a quite hard to answer question for me. My books are a mix of a few genres; historical, supernatural, action-adventure, fantasy, mystery, crime-action, psychological, and drama – all in differing portions depending on the installment. A little something for everyone in one coherent and entertaining series.

How long have you been writing? Did an event or person prompt you to take that leap?

I have been writing in some form most of my life. Until about two years ago, I stuck with technical and nonfiction work and only piddled in fiction and even a little poetry. But once I sat down with the idea of Myrgjol the Dokkrsdottir in my head, it has been this series every since. No one specific thing spawned me to begin the “Outside the Thalsparr” series. It was basically a mix of several interests of mine.

What comes first — the plot or the characters?

Hard one. I love both. But if I had to choose one, it would have to be characters. Without them, there is no plot – and it has been my experience that plot is heavily dependent on the characters, otherwise everything just seems out of place.

How or where do you find the plots you write about?

I have a very wide variety of interests and areas of study, so I can always draw from them to envision relatable scenes and story arcs that are unique and interesting. With a little creating and precision weaving, into the story it goes.

Runes of the Dokkrsdottir Book 1

The Dokkrsdottir is not your ordinary Norse woman of the Viking age. One of the great warriors of her time, she soon learns that the hardest battles are not always those fought with a sword and shield. Through countless trials and tests, she is led by visions and omens on numerous adventures with the help of steadfast friends and family to discover her mysterious supernatural destiny, one more extraordinary than anyone could ever have imagined.

The story of Myrgjol the Dokkrsdottir begins with her birth in 800s Scandinavia where it becomes immediately obvious that she is very different in so many ways.

After adventures abroad and continuously making friends and loyal allies, and after suffering many losses and setbacks, she bravely travels the many winding paths of her destiny - facing and defeating a dark foe she never expected to face.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0CW17D3N6

Rune of Renewal Book 2

The Dokkrsdottir is not your ordinary Norse woman of the Viking age. One of the great warriors of her time, she soon learns that the hardest battles are not always those fought with a sword and shield. Through countless trials and tests, she is led by visions and omens on numerous adventures with the help of steadfast friends and family to discover her mysterious supernatural destiny, one more extraordinary than anyone could ever have imagined.

The story of the Dokkrsdottir continues in a strange new time and place finding her out of her familiar world, but the pressure on her to continue as one of the greatest warriors ever increases as the stakes are now world wide and on a grander scale than she could ever have imagined.

However, through the foresight and dedication of many of her descendants, she has the diehard support of friends and family to see her through to her destiny of thwarting the plans of the Dark.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0D3LBC625

What makes your book stand out from the crowd?

The mix of genres, the very detailed and individually unique characters, the multiple setting changes, the complexity and layers of the story, and how much the reader finds themselves rooting for the protagonist(s). I like to think I made a wild fantasy story that is believeable, and I work to make the reader think that this could conceivably happen in real life and not just on the pages of my books. Life is not cut-and-dry, so neither is the Thalsparr.

Mark Twain said “Write what you know.” Tell us about your writing process. Are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you plot, plan, and conduct hours of research; or, do you just sit down and write whatever comes to mind based on your personal history and knowledge?

A mix of both. I usually start with an rough outline as part of the planning, then as needed with whatever scene I am on, I stop to research for accuracy and believability if I am not confident in my knowledge of the material. It’s a good compromise.

What’ s your favorite and least favorite part of publishing?

Hearing the feedback (good and bad) from the readers is by far my favorite part of actually publishing my stories. My least favorite part of publishing would have to be all the patience you must have for the process. Everything about it takes a lot of time and work, when in the back of my head, I could be using that time to write more books. But, “good things come to those who wait, ” right?

Would you and your main character get along?

Absolutely! I put a good bit of myself into her, as well as several other people I know.

Have you ever killed off a character your readers loved?

Yes! Yes, I have. Several times. Not without literary cause, of course, but yes. My editor was not very happy with me in Runes of the Dokkrsdottir or Rune of Destiny for this very reason, and a few readers made it clear that they thought since I made the characters in question so endearing and detailed, there was no way they weren’t going to make it to the end. I don’t do it out of meanness, I do it because it represents life. Good and lovable people die. I also did it for the “didn’t see that coming” value, of course.

What is the most valuable piece of advice you’ve been given about writing?

Be patient, in the writing and in the business side of making books. It all takes a lot of time.

Whom do you trust for objective and constructive criticism of your work?

My editor and a few friends. They know I want the “awesome”, but I most certainly also want the “well, maybe you look at this one again ”.

What are your current projects?

I am dedicated to the “Outside the Thalsparr” series right now. The first two books are out, the third will be out on September 24th, the fourth and fifth are completed and ready to launch right behind, and I am currently writing the sixth, seventh, and eighth in the series. After that, there is a possibility of three or four more. The Thalsparr is not finished with me yet.

Rune of Destiny — Book 3

The final chapter of the main story of the Dokkrsdottir's destiny that finds the continuation of the living world in the hands of Myrgjol, her descendants, and the choices they all must make.

With battles of the "greatest warrrior" transpiring on both sides of the veil, it is a series of desperate and grueling battles to the very end before she can enjoy her reward with the knowledge that the living world will continue in the loving embrace of the Light and not in ruin by the Dark.

How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? Or has one stuck with you more than others?

With five completely finished, and three more soon to be, I would have to say the fourth, Rune of Revenge, is still probably my favorite. The main character in that installment is just so larger -than-life and endearing, plus her story just came together so easily and naturally. Her life is nonstop adventure, strife, and challenges that she displays enormous strength and spirit.

How long does it take you to write a book?

On average through the series written so far, it takes me about two -to-three months to write a complete installment.

Do you aim for a set number of words/pages per day? Or, do you just write and let the story decide when you stop and take a break?

I definitely just write when inspiration strikes, and I keep going until I run out of steam. Sometimes it might be constant writing in all my free time each day for several days straight, or I might have a day or two break between, then right back at it. Strike while the iron is hot, after all.

Other than your current WIP, do you have any unfinished books? Do you think you will ever finish them?

A few – maybe five. I am not sure if I will finish them. I am inclined to believe I will. Stay tuned.

If money was no issue, would you prefer a cozy beach bungalow or a rustic cabin overlooking a mountain lake?

I would definitely choose the cabin. Most (but not all) of my book settings are rustic and rugged landscapes. That is where I would exist if making a living and proximity to town wasn’t important. And maybe one day it won’t be.

Are you a cat person or a dog person?

Both, but if I had to choose, I would pick cats. They are more self sufficient and not as demanding (most of the time). They would be authors if they had thumbs.

One final question...Do you have a blog/website? If so, what is it? Do you have a social media platform where your fans can go to interact with you and follow your progress?

Website: http://thalsparr.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61561472191034

Magic has been lost for centuries, and when 16-year-old Destiny stumbles upon it, she accidentally unlocks it for all the descendants of the ancient clans, but some of them want it only for themselves and are willing to kill to keep it.

Destiny prevented the sorcerer clan from claiming power, but her survival from the battle is in question. Who will step up to lead the family? The Old Child is the third book in the Lost Art of Magic series. Magic has returned after remaining dormant for centuries and this means there will be those that covet power over the powerless. The witch clan must do something to prevent the sorcerers from claiming the world, but must they do it without the strongest of them?

Now On Preorder!!!!

The Lost Art of Magic Book Two

The escape into magic continues by, Jonni Jordyn

After Destiny unlocks the power of magic, and the first prophecy has been fulfilled, magic finds its way into the hands of a most vile and unscrupulous young girl. In her hands, the power grows and without the discipline needed to control it, her lust for more power grows with it. She unleashes her rage upon the world and thus begins the second, untold prophecy. Destiny may be the only one powerful enough to face her, but even she may not be ready. She is driven to find a way to protect her family while confronting her new nemesis, but her youth also drives her along its own reckless path with devastating consequences.

Jonni Jordyn was born in Oakland, California in 1957. She started writing at an early age, writing music, poetry, short stories, radio, film, and stage scripts. She didn’t start writing novels until later in life, after she retired from playing music, and found herself travelling away from home for extended periods.

She currently lives in Denver, Colorado.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0DCTBJ97D

Aspire Book Covers is a website that offers inspirational book covers and formatting services at affordable prices. The website, located at aspirebookcovers.com, is run by Sharon Brownlie, who warmly welcomes authors to her site. Whether you have finished your book or are in the final stages, Aspire Book Covers provides customized covers to meet your specific requirements. Prices for pre-made covers are listed on the website, and keep a lookout because occasionally, some covers may be on sale!

For custom book covers, Sharon Brownlie will work closely with you to ensure that your book's cover design reflects your vision accurately. She will collaborate with you closely, engaging in discussions about your book description and understanding your requirements.

http://www.tombensonauthor.com

July, 2015

Regensburg

Bavaria, Germany

Kirsten said, “Let’s take off our shoes.”

“Why?” Angeline said.

“We’ll be able to hear anyone creeping up on us.”

Tom Benson A High Price

Angelina giggled as she removed her high heels, and they walked silently along the lane. The few street lights were quaint, and the illumination was cream rather than white. Fifty metres ahead was a dark area where lights were out on either side of a narrow road crossing their path.

The pair strolled along, having enjoyed their evening. Although it was late and not a brightly lit area, this was a shortcut to their hotel, and they had each other. It was difficult to tell them apart since they were both slim, of the same height and had long dark hair.

A black van pulled forward, blocking their path, and a man leapt out from the sliding side door. The silver automatic pistol in his hand glinted in the minimum light.

“Both of you, get in.”

“Run!” Kirsten stepped between the gunman and her friend.

Angeline bolted past the man, and the van, across the dark road, to where the lane was better lit.

The man raised the gun. “Well, aren’t you the brave one … get in, or you die here.”

As Kirsten climbed into the vehicle, the gunman grabbed her handbag, which she let go.

The driver turned to look back. “Is this the right one, Gunther?”

“No names,” the gunman growled. “It doesn’t matter which one we’ve got.” He climbed in, closed the sliding door, and sat on the offside wheel arch. When the vehicle was in motion, Gunther rifled through Kirsten’s handbag and produced her phone. “PIN code, bitch?”

“Two, five, three, seven.”

The keys bleeped as he pressed them, and a few seconds later, he laughed. “We got the right one. The one who escaped is Kirsten, the best friend.”

“So what now?”

“No change,” Gunther said, and the phone bleeped as he made a call. “Hello … I must be speaking to Kirsten … yes, now shut the fuck up, and listen.” He paused. “Your dear friend, Lady Angeline, is with us, and if you alert anyone, she’ll be raped, shot, and buried in the Black Forest.”

In the darkness, Kirsten moved back to sit on the other wheel arch. She steadied herself, gripping the van's side panel.

Gunther spoke in short sentences over the phone and asked for clarification before he hung up. Kirsten had been watching the route and noted they didn’t travel far from town before turning along a private road. There were no street lights, road markings, or signs. When the van stopped, it was on an overgrown driveway in front of a large building.

The driver got out and pulled back the sliding door before leaving them.

“Come on, bitch out.” Gunther indicated with the gun.

Kirsten climbed out and looked around in the darkness. She could smell pine trees and hear footsteps making haste, climbing the nearby stone steps. The steps rose up into what looked like a castle or ruin. She next heard the creaking of a heavy wooden door and saw a set of candles being lit in a window.

“Now, move,” Gunther said, stepping out of the van to press the gun into her back.

Kirsten twisted left quickly, deflecting the weapon with her left arm while simultaneously bringing up her right hand in a sweeping movement. She embedded the stiletto heel of a shoe in Gunther’s left ear.

His scream was muffled by the toecap of Kirsten’s other shoe being thrust into his mouth. He dropped the gun and fell to his knees, moaning and holding his damaged, bleeding ear.

Kirsten lifted the gun, checked that a round was chambered and held it to Gunther’s forehead. “How many of you?”

He removed the shoe. “Only me and Heinrich.”

“Get up those steps. You warn him, you die.” Kirsten followed a few steps behind. “Open the door, but don’t speak.”

When Gunther pushed the large door, it creaked, and he stepped inside, the gun prodding him.

Heinrich called out. “Get her ladyship in here. We can have fun with her before her friend delivers the ransom.” He laughed. “We’ll also have time to play with her cute friend before we leave here rich.”

Kirsten pushed Gunther into a large room illuminated by two candelabras. Heinrich was bent forward, pouring drinks into two glasses on a small table. Nearby was a large open fireplace, two sleeping bags, and two camping chairs.

Heinrich spoke again while standing upright with the drinks. “What do you say we take turns ” He dropped both glasses as he stared into the business end of his friend ’s gun.

Kirsten turned, cracked the pistol grip into Gunther’s head, and he fell to the floor. She turned back to Heinrich. “You were saying?”

“I was only joking, your ladyship … you know … we only wanted … the ransom ” He stared wide-eyed as the woman used her left hand to pull off her long dark wig, and then a hairnet, releasing her shoulder-length blonde hair.

Kirsten stepped away from the moaning Gunther. “Not all bodyguards are big, muscular veterans, although all kidnappers are assholes.” She paused. “Both of you strip off, and remember, it’ll be easier without a bullet in your gut.”

The two men slowly removed all of their clothes.

Kirsten indicated the fireplace. “I want my phone and the keys to the van, and then everything else goes in there, shoes on top.”

Heinrich lifted all the discarded clothing and complied.

Kirsten said, “Now set it alight.” She waited until the material was burning before dialling a number. “Hi, Angeline … yes, it’s Kirsten. Are you okay?” She paused. “I’m fine. I’ll meet you in the lounge for a nightcap in twenty minutes.”

She shot both men twice in the gut, emptied the magazine and threw the gun into the fireplace. One minute later, the closing of the creaking front door cut out the sound of pitiful groaning.

Mckenna's never thought much of her nightmares, but on her seventeenth birthday, a vivid dream of burning at the stake awakens her dormant abilities, thrusting her into a world where faeries are real, spirits hold a grudge, and a High Priestess obsessed with a 16th-century prophecy is tracking her every move. Now, her overprotective dads, Seán and Andre, are forced to tell her the truth they know who her birth mother is, and her life is not the surrogate story she's always been told. Abigail, Mckenna's mom, is some sort of mystic, and Mckenna a Wise One. Whatever the hell that means. With the help of a persistent little wren and the company of a newfound friend, Mckenna journeys to Ireland in search of her mother and real answers. Along the way, she learns to harness her innate magic and trust her intuition, as best she can anyway Cillian, a kind and passionate delegate who crosses her path, is proving much harder to read.

What Authors & Reviewers Are Saying… "

A grand web of magic, intrigue, mystical atmosphere, and fae surprises [...] Anglehart’s evocations of an Ireland where a 'lake of mystic topaz' stands 'silent and still beneath smooth mountains' are both wistful and sumptuous." Editor's Pick, BookLife by Publishers Weekly

"Set in Ireland, The Wise One entertains us with fantasy that rises from authentic mythology [...] The plot is unpredictable, with each chapter ending in cliffhangers."

—5-Star LitPick Award

"A heartwarming coming-ofage story with characters that resonate, rich European folklore, and enchanting details that tickle the senses long after the last page is read." V. G. Anderson, The Light in the Sound

K.T. Anglehart is an award-winning author from Montreal, with a multilingual prowess in English, French, Italian, and “Spanglish”. A dedicated academic, she holds a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism, a graduate certificate in Scriptwriting, and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing.

Inspired by the wizarding world, the land of Narnia, and parallel planes, she penned The Wise One, inviting readers to connect with nature and its everpresent magic. Her exploration of the landscapes and folklore of Ireland and Scotland greatly influenced her debut YA urban fantasy, marking the inception of The Scottish Scrolls series.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B08L8FQK72

K.T. Anglehart is a passionate advocate for bunnies, thanks to her late Netherland Dwarf, Magic the inspiration behind her imprint, The Magic Dwarf Press. When she’s not writing or diving into magical reads, she revels in hiking, antiquing, and Netflix binges alongside her high schoolsweetheart-turned-husband, Andy. They currently live in Ontario with their three pets: Nessie, a mysterious rescue dog from Puerto Rico, and their whimsical bunnies, Onyx and Stirling

REVIEWS

City in My Hands (Mannahatta Series Book 2)

by Thomas More

Review by Author Anthony Avina's Blog

https://authoranthonyavinablog.com

The Review

What a compelling and richly developed novel. The author perfectly brought the Lenape culture into the fantasy and sci-fi genres, capturing the diverse culture and blending it with the rich mythology the author has developed since the first book. The shock of the new villain’s arrival and the brutality her people face at these invaders’ hands intensify the narrative’s action and fast pacing, keeping readers engaged immediately.

The author’s themes in this book are how people’s culture and heritage can blend with modern times and technology, how other cultures view one another, and how not every journey we undertake is filled with win after win. Still, sometimes, through loss, we learn to grow. How these invaders view the Lenape people and treat them mirrors the unjust treatment of Native American and Indigenous people all over the world by conquerors and invaders, which elevates the action and the heavy fantasy elements of the narrative significantly.

The Verdict

Adrenaline -fueled, haunting, and thoughtprovoking author Thomas More’s “City in My Hands” is a must-read sci-fi and fantasy thriller. The twists and turns and the shocking cliffhanger finale will make readers eager for the next chapter in the Mannahatta series. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!

Rating: 10/10

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

by Taylor Jenkins Reid

I love a period piece as long as they are from the 50's, 60's and 70's, sorry Bridgerton. I grew up watching musicals with my father and the golden age of Hollywood has long influenced my aesthetic. This was one of the draws of this book. After the comprehensive and masterful way Reid handled the 70's for Daisy Jones, I just knew she would get the 50's right. I was rewarded with pages of descriptions that fed my hungry eyes and famished imagination. Reid constructed the Hollywood that I was educated in from the University of TCM. She captured the elegance and the hidden debauchery, the glamour and the grit, the double standards, the illusion and the reality of this period with the ease of a maestro. I was fully engaged and in for the long haul. Each page fulfilled my long-established expectations of Old Hollywood and when I was good and full, I was hit with the unexpected... this was not the book I thought it would be...

In my defense, ok so I probably should not have started this paragraph, defensively, but I have always written honestly, and I am not gonna change now. This is a touch scary because I do anticipate engagement after this admission, I just hope it's constructive and not destructive. Firstly, I accept all forms of love. I do not believe that being a member of the LGBTQ+ community is a choice; it is simply who they are. It is a choice to be an ally, and I do count myself as one. At least I never questioned whether I truly was, I just knew that I supported the community. I have had and still have close friends that are members of this community and I've seen the love that they share with their partners. I love and accept that their love is the same love as heterosexual love. In fact, many of them I would consider to be #couplegoals. That said, I've never sought out LGBTQ+ romance. I don't seek out LGBTQ+ media and when I've come across it in books or film it was in a supporting capacity. I will admit that this is by choice. I chose not to consume a lot of media (mainly literature) whose protagonist is a member of the community. I recognize the duplicity in that, and I understand that I probably shouldn't count myself as an ally when I choose to refrain from these offerings. This book stumped me because it made me question exactly what one expects from an ally. What are the parameters of an ally? Am I truly an ally?

https://tamarafoster.substack.com

Review by Tamara Foster

REVIEWS

To be clear, I recognize the need for representation. I know that stories of all walks of life and individuals should be written and shared with the public because they hold power. It was powerful for me to read about or see someone like me at whatever age / stage of life I was at. It was rare but when I encountered that reflection, I felt seen and that remains to be so. I want everyone to have that opportunity, to feel that powerful. This book enabled me to see that power given to someone else, someone just as marginalized as me. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo is a reflective pool for members of the LGBTQ+ community but it is wide enough to allow allies to witness that powerful transference. While reading this book, my expectations were demolished, and my perspective was challenged. Did I have underlying biases, and why?

For those unaware, I apologize for revealing what is probably the biggest spoiler. I will admit that when I recognized that this book was indeed an LGBTQ+ romance, I was taken aback. But by then I was already invested in the richness of the characters. I wanted to see how the story would play out. Much like Daisy Jones and The Six, this book was inundated with flawed, authentic, nuanced characters that I came to relate to, admire and become transformed by. Evelyn Hugo took no prisoners in living her life. She was a self-actualized woman in the 50's and that alone is a powerful portrayal. It is also a heavy mantle. Regrettably, I don't believe much has changed but reading about this fictional standard for a powerful woman was as metamorphic for me as it was for Monique. As the 'modern' woman in the story, Monique represented that illusion. She was in an era where women supposedly had more autonomy and yet, she didn't possess the selfactualization or the power of Evelyn.

I try in doing my reviews to not divulge spoilers so that every reader has an opportunity to experience the work for themselves. Again, I apologize for categorizing this book as an LGBTQ+ romance for those unaware. I took that experience away from you and I am sincerely sorry. That said, I want to say that this book is so much more than that! It is a portrait of one woman's journey to self-actualization. This book preoccupied my mind for weeks after reading it. I wept for the characters, and I was emboldened by them. As a writer, I want my words to make my readers ask questions of themselves, their lives, their community, their perspective. I want my words to transform, to encourage engagement, to move people. Taylor Jenkins Reid wrote words that transformed my perspective. This book was much more than the sum of its parts.

A screen adaptation is in the works, and I am eager to see if the creators can capture the totality of this book. I hope that they don't get too sidetracked on the romance of the book, like I did initially. While it is pivotal to the story, it is but a vehicle and to exploit it without grounding it would be sensational and tragic. Like all romance stories, they are but one thread in a rich tapestry. This book is a vibrant tapestry of strength and femininity, empowerment and accommodation, loss and love. It is a portrait of what it takes to become who you truly are and to stand in that power of authenticity. It is my hope that the creators of the adaptation is able to capture the nuances of the book and match its energy.

I write these words now and question whether I am diminishing the role of the LGBTQ+ romance to make myself more comfortable for liking it. Am I placing my own frames of reference over the author's intent? Am I reading my own feminist leanings into it erroneously? Am I overlooking and minimizing the romance in favour of themes of female empowerment and immigrant acclimation, that I can relate to? Shouldn't the LGBTQ+ romance be the focus? Again, am I really an ally?

"The man who does not read good books is no better than the man who can’t."

I believe the power of books is to transform into whatever the reader needs. If the reader needs to see love, it is a book about romance. If the reader needs to be empowered, it is a book about self-actualization. If a reader needs to grow, it is a book about education. I needed all these things, and I experienced all these things when I read this book. In answering these questions, I have come to the conclusion that I am indeed an ally. I am a self-actualized ally, one that has grown since her biases have been exposed. For that, I thank Evelyn Hugo and Taylor Jenkins Reid. I look forward to the adaptation and it is my hope that all parts are treated with the same respect and focus.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B01M5IJM2U

When Stars Align

by Dennis Higgins

The Review

When Stars Align Is A Creative Time -Travel Romance...

One December day in 1986, fifteen-year-old Mark Evans found an old electric Christmas star in a box of ornaments in his Chicago basement. When he plugged it in at Midnight on December 25th, he found himself in the same room with a fifteen-year-old girl named, Maggie Townsend whose tree was topped with the same star. This is where this creative Time -Travel story begins, with romance and wonderment, this writer keeps you wanting to turn page after page to see what happens next. Recommend read.

If you haven't read PARALLEL ROADS LOST ON ROUTE 66 by Dennis Higgins, it is moving present to past flawlessly, mystery throughout, a bit of darkness & romance too, this story was the perfect mix and another recommended read!

The Verdict

Rating: 5/5

Review by Virginia Wright Author of A Christmas to Remember

https://a.co/d/esn2yNT

https://melaniepsmith.com

Melanie P. Smith Dangerous Secrets

Marley darted across the lawn, ducked around the azaleas, and slipped into the forest. She slowly maneuvered toward the path that led to the ancient wooden door, built into a solid layer of rock.

Once again, she wondered what was behind the thick oak barrier. Jagged rock and luscious green vine encased the staircase that was made of perfectly crafted, smooth rock steps. In front of the door was a stone landing. Someone put a lot of time and energy into building the mysterious, and mostly hidden, pathway to what?

She would never know, because it was locked. Her toe struck a branch, and she cursed under her breath, paused to wiggle her toes, and wished she had retrieved her shoes before she snuck out. Couldn’t be helped. If Alaster caught her she shuddered and picked up the pace. She had to get to the door, retrieve the message Trev left, and get back to the house before she was discovered.

A sense of relief filled her once she reached the stairs. She ascended as quickly as she could in the tight black dress. Another thing she wanted to change out of, but couldn’t incase she got caught. She wore the thing to that stupid dinner party Alaster dragged her to with all his pretentious friends eager to bow to his every whim. Another evening she’d never get back, but it was worth it.

When she reached the top, she dropped to her knees next to the burning candles and fumbled around until she found the tiny micro-SD card. She slipped it into the hidden compartment she cut into her bra, and snuffed out the candles. Mission complete, she made her way back to the house.

She just reached the courtyard and dropped into the lounge chair when Dylan stepped onto the patio. A bone deep terror swamped her did he know? If he did, what would he do?

“Sunbathing works better if there’s actually sun,” he settled next to her. “What are you doing

out here?”

Marley’s heart pounded but she tried to mask the fear. “Stargazing,” she shrugged nonchalantly and hoped she pulled it off. The man was an enigma and impossible to read.

Dylan studied the woman carefully. She was beautiful, but he expected that from a woman dating Alaster Von Krause. She was also a puzzle. He’d only been here two days, but he spotted the intelligence lurking behind her eyes on more than one occasion. So why was she pretending to be another ditzy, opportunistic prop for his brother? Half-brother and the only thing they had in common was their deceased father.

He frowned, remembered why he was here, and tried to push thoughts of the beautiful red -head in that damn black dress that left little to the imagination out of his mind. He needed her to go to bed so he could snoop. “You lost your shoes.” He didn’t mean to say that, but the mud caked to her feet caught his attention and he decided to push a little. She didn’t get dirty on Alaster’s immaculate patio.

Marley shoved her feet under her dress. “I didn’t need them. Do you want something?”

Yeah, he needed her to head inside and leave him alone so he could scour the house for clues.

“Not really,” he tried to appear relaxed. “Just thought I’d enjoy the cool night air.”

“Right,” Marley stood. “Well, I’m tired.” The man was gorgeous, intense and he made her nervous. She knew Alaster didn’t suspect a thing, but Dylan that was another story. She was worried he saw everything. Could he be trusted? It was obvious he didn’t approve of or even like his brother. But that didn’t make him an ally. No, she couldn’t trust anyone. Talli trusted the wrong person and she ended up dead.

The following evening, the trio was gathered around the large table having a civilized dinner Alaster’s words.

“Why are you here,” Alaster stared at Dylan.

“In this room?” Dylan asked casually. “I’m told it’s the appropriate place to have a meal.”

“In Boston,” Alaster growled. “In my house.”

“You mean our house,” Dylan corrected. “You do remember we share this estate, don’t you Al?”

“Stop calling me that,” Alaster threw his napkin onto the table.

The corner of Dylan’s mouth twitched. He was enjoying himself. Marley caught it and, for the first time since he arrived, she wondered if Dylan had a sense of humor. He was always so guarded and serious.

“As you wish,” Dylan shrugged.

“And that!” Alaster screamed. “You’re a grown man, stop quoting stupid movie lines.”

Dylan’s mouth twitched again, and an amused gleam flashed in his eyes before he masked it.

Marley covered her mouth with her napkin to hide the grin. Dylan was pushing Alaster’s buttons.

“We’re going out,” Alaster focused on Marley.

That wiped the grin from her face. She didn’t want to go out. She wanted to lock herself in her bedroom and work on the intel Trev sent her. She wanted to track the money because Alaster was buying an expensive warehouse, but he didn’t have the funds to make the purchase. “I can’t,” she blurted. “I have a migraine.”

“The proverbial headache,” Dylan mocked. “Can’t say I blame her. She’s clearly out of your league.”

“That’s enough,” Alaster jumped to his feet and stomped out of the room.

“Excuse me,” Marley bolted. She didn’t like his methods, but Dylan just gave her the escape she needed.

Dylan sat at his father’s desk and studied the documents. Possibilities flooded his mind, but he couldn’t get past the obvious. Alaster planned to kill him for money. Specifically, the family estate. He would die, murdered the same way their father was. Would this give Sam the local detective, and Dylan’s best friend enough to investigate? Sam would need more, and Dylan knew where to get it. Marley had the answers. At least, he hoped she did. He hesitated, then stepped outside.

Marley was so focused on what she was reading; she nearly missed the flickering candles. She moved to the window and frowned. Trev must have something important to summon her two nights in a row. She rushed through the house and darted outside. The instant she reached the staircase, she regretted it. Dylan sat at the top, waiting arms resting on his knees.

“We need to talk,” he stood, blew out the candles, then joined Marley on the landing. She dropped onto the step, defeated. “What are you going to do? ”

“I think we’re on the same side,” he admitted. This might be a mistake, but he was going to trust her. “Why are you here?”

Marley’s shoulders slumped and she gave in. “I believe your brother killed my sister.”

“Half-brother,” Dylan corrected. “Who was your sister?”

“Talli Jenkins,” Marley admitted. “We have the same mother.”

“Different last names,” Dylan’s mind was racing. “Why do you think Al killed her? I thought her death was an accident.”

“Right,” Marley barked impatiently. “Talli hated hiking, and she certainly wouldn’t have gone out alone.”

“You think he pushed her,” Dylan realized. “And you came here looking for evidence.”

“I know he did, but I can’t prove it,” Marley corrected. “Why are you really here?”

“Alaster killed our father,” Dylan said confidently. “I believe he also pushed my mother off the

balcony. The police declared it a suicide because it happened a few months after my father died. I just discovered information that leads me to believe Alaster now plans to kill me. ”

“What?” Marley stared at him in shock.

“And if we join forces, we can prove Alaster Von Krause is a killer. He might get away with murdering your sister and my mother, but I can prove he killed our father he’s the oldest and he expected to inherit the family estate.”

“And now he plans to kill you,” she considered. “To get the rest. I have something that might help.”

“The information that man left here last night?” Dylan asked.

“How did you know?” Marley frowned. She thought he caught her not Trev.

“I own this place,” Dylan admitted. “I loved exploring as a kid, so when I got older and could afford it, I tracked down the owners and made them an offer they couldn’t resist. There are cameras everywhere.”

They both froze when they spotted the headlights.

“Al’s home,” Dylan stood and pulled her to her feet. Then, he grabbed her hand and they both ran. They burst through the back door as Alaster stepped through the front. “Go, up those back stairs. I’ll keep him busy.”

“Get out of my way,” Alaster demanded the instant Dylan stepped into the foyer. “I want you out of my house. You can sleep here tonight, but I want you out by noon tomorrow. You got everything else, you got the family business, you can’t have my house.”

Dylan watched Alaster leave. Then pivoted and darted up the stairs when Alaster burst into Marley’s room and slammed the door. Within seconds the fight was on. Alaster yelled, furniture slammed against the wall, then he heard glass breaking.

Dylan pulled out his phone and called Sam. “I need you here, now. Alaster’s trying to kill his girlfriend, and I can’t get through the door.

An hour later, Dylan and Marley sat on the front porch swing watching the police cars exit the driveway. “Now what?” Marley pulled the blanket closer. Her cheek was still throbbing and the large cut the paramedics had bandaged stung, but she was alive.

“Now,” Dylan wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You tell me where you want to go on our first date.”

“What makes you think I’d date you?” Marley demanded.

“I saved your life, Alaster’s in jail. He’ll be convicted of attempting to kill you because he’s an idiot murdering our father, and plotting to kill me. We ’re both free and you want to pursue this as much as I do. How does Italian sound? ”

“Delicious,” Marley didn’t have the energy to fight him, and she did want to date the gorgeous, intriguing, and persistent man. “But only if you show me what’s inside that door.”

PAYING IT FORWARD A Tale of 4 Hearts

By Melanie P. Smith

The year was 1985. Ronald Reagan was president, TWA Flight 847 was hijacked, Michael J. Fox went Back to the Future and my dad was dying.

It was a complicated time but a hopeful one full of political, technological and cultural events. Reagan was negotiating with Gorbechav, AIDS was discovered, the Titanic wreckage was found, New Coke debuted and flopped (but we got Cherry Coke), and the term ‘MacGyver it’ was born.

On a more personal note, our house was a rollercoaster of good news and bad. My dad went hunting with a friend and they both came home early after contracting a virus. While his friend slowly recovered, the virus attacked my father’s heart and caused irreparable damage. The illness derailed our entire life. Suddenly, a strong, hard-working father, husband, brother, and son faced his own mortality. Things continued to spiral downward. My dad got sicker and eventually had to quit his job because he was too weak to get out of bed. Then, one day, we received good news the University of Utah finalized their transplant program, and they were sifting through potential candidates. A 16-year-old boy out of Idaho was their first recipient.

A short time later, we received more good news, my dad was added to the list. The catch? The surgery was experimental; and therefore, my family would have to front the cost before the procedure was performed. Clearly, this was an impossible task. Once again, the proverbial rug was yanked from beneath our feet.

If my story stopped there, it would be a tragedy. It’s not. This is a story of hope, love, sacrifice and miracles. It’s a tale of a community coming together to achieve the impossible. When our friends and neighbors heard the news, they went to work. We didn’t have the internet, social media, or GoFundMe back then. What we did have was a community that banned together. Church organizations went door to door asking for donations, businesses changed their signs to encourage patrons to donate, radio stations held telethons, and local news stations conducted a series of interviews to relay the story and encourage millions of viewers to help. Slowly, we reached one milestone after another. Additional transplants were performed, another milestone was met, and against all odds we reached our goal. My father was finally eligible for surgery, and the team began searching for a suitable match. It was Memorial Day Weekend, May 1985 when a tragedy for one family became a miracle for our family. My dad was the seventh heart transplant performed in Utah. The day was bittersweet. My dad got another chance at life; but it was only possible, because another family was grieving. We will always be thankful for the gift that donor family gave us that day. We were blessed with another 36 years with my dad. But that year, we got so much more. We are forever bound to that tightknit community. We are grateful for the people who rallied around our family, the people who donated countless hours of their valuable time, and for the selfless donations from strangers you gave our family the miracle we desperately needed. A few dollars from many, became an everlasting lesson in charity for me and my family.

Fast forward nearly 40 years to another tale of need. Brian Jensen (who, ironically, is my cousin) underwent surgery on September 3rd to receive his new heart. Again, this day was bittersweet. I truly understand the loss the donor family suffered in order to save the life of our loved one. I hope, wherever they are, they understand that the gift they gave Brian will never be forgotten and it will always be cherished.

My cousin, Brian, is a kind, hard-working man that loves his children and desperately wants to provide for them. As I well know, the next year is going to be difficult. Money will be tight, bills will mount; and, above all, insurance premiums must be paid. There will be countless medical bills from follow up procedures and lab tests to unexpected complications. Unlike 1985, we have an easy mechanism to help those in need. I understand how tight things are, how difficult it is to pay your own bills, feed your family, and put gas in the car. I’m not asking for a lot, but I am asking for what you can spare.

If, once again, a community comes together to give $5.00, $10.00, or whatever you can afford, we have the power to help a good man get his own miracle — 2024 style.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-brians-lifesaving-heart-transplant

IMMORTALS SERIES

BOOK 2

An ancient legend, a reluctant doctor, and a beautiful siren.

Legend has it, six immortals will unite, defeat the Titans and save earth. Each comes from a family with extraordinary talents. Their special powers set them apart from conventional mortals. But with power comes great responsibility. Can they join together in this season of training and preparation. Or, will outside influences tear them apart? Dark forces are looming, and a deadly enemy is unpredictable.

Izzy has been careful to conceal her true identity. Her powers frighten and confuse her. Can she face the ghosts of her past and learn to trust herself, or is she destined to be alone forever?

Corbin has always had to hide his gifts, now he must set aside everything he knows and trust his heart. Does he have the courage to accept his place in this circle and face the most terrifying challenge of his life?

Series — Book 1

Part Mortal, Part Divinity, Fully Devoted.

The gathering has begun. Six demigods embark on an epic journey of danger, mystical creatures, dark magic, and intrigue. When an ancient prophesy is triggered, the tale of six powerful immortals begins. Legend has it, the chosen six will triumph over evil and restore peace. But first, they must gather together and converge on the land where their parents were defeated. Time is running out, the Titans want revenge, and the future of the entire world is at stake.

Meet the immortals -The wiccan, the shifter, the Master of Water, the siren, the healer, the Reader of Minds. Their

“Reading is like watching a movie, the descriptions are so vivid... so convincing. Watch the Master of the Sea at work... ride a winged horse... enjoy the rhythm of the poetry contained in the spells... “

- Sarah Stuart https://books2read.com/Divergence

Get your copy before the price increases.

“Magical and Action-Packed Fairy Tale - Fantasy Meets Mythology...A Must-Read!”

Welcome to Diversity Doodles!

By Briony Kay

Well, I guess the first question to answer would be 'what is Diversity Doodles?' Diversity Doodles is an ever growing collection of hand drawn memes that contain important messages about neurodiversity. They were born out of desperation, as my primary school aged son struggled endlessly at school and eventually received his diagnosis of both autism and ADHD a year ago. Although my misplaced belief was that this diagnosis would be the key to unlocking the understanding, support and accommodations he so urgently needed, this was not the case. And despite thriving with support outside of school, at home, social gatherings and clubs he attends, the firm belief held by those overseeing his education were that he would just learn to fit in to mainstream education, without any further assistance on their part. My seemingly endless attempts at explanations as to why this wasn't working was falling on deaf ears and so, out of sheer desperation, I attempted to draw what I was clearly failing to describe in words. Diversity Doodles became the result.

So, here we are, now putting out these doodles on the internet and hoping that the messages they contain help as many people as possible to both give and receive information about what it is like to be neurodiverse and the challenges that are faced in our daily lives.

My son's diagnosis gave rise to the realization that I too am neurodiverse, and so these doodles are given from the perspective of someone who has faced such situations in my own life and now recognizes them in the lives of others. My only wish is that they play a small part in bridging the gap in understanding, acceptance and support for neurodiverse people in a neurotypical world.

With the return to school and learning for so many of our kids I would like to share some of my insights, information and doodles surrounding neurodivergency in schools.

Neurodiverse brains are just brains that work differently from neurotypical ones. I have heard it described as 'running on a different operating system'. It's a misconception that they 'don't work properly' or that they are 'incapable of learning'. It is also a misconception that all neurodiverse brains are exceptional at math, or computers, or art, etc. Some of them are, some struggle, in just the same way that neuro typical brains have their individual strengths and weaknesses.

But, because neurodivergent brains operate differently, they often struggle to learn things in a neurotypical way. It's not that they are necessarily incapable of learning a particular skill or subject, it's just that they perhaps cannot conceptualise it in the same way as it is being taught. This is why it can be so important to identify an area where a neurodiverse individual is struggling to grasp a concept or skill, and work with them to find a way that they can. So that they too can learn to the best of their own abilities. This could be using tangible objects, combining the skill with a special interest, or approaching it from a totally different perspective.

This is NOT a comment on whether schools are 'good' or 'bad'. This is not a comment on school versus home schooling. Those scenarios have many factors, can be personal choice, or may be influenced by things outside of our control. This IS a recognition of neurodiverse children who attend school, whether they enjoy being there or not, of the extra effort they put in every day because their neurodiverse presentations means they have to put it in.

Of course, as parents, advocates, educators, and supporters we should be concerned with making education more accommodating and more accessible, whilst striving for improvements to make that happen. But we should never stop appreciating the efforts of the students to overcome the challenges they invariably face every day or forget what they achieve just by being there. This is also a MASSIVE shout out to all those parents, teachers, support staff, therapists and everyone who puts in so much time and effort to learn and use so many strategies in order to give neurodiverse kids every opportunity to be the best they can be. Everyday. Thank you!!

However, a real issue that many parents face is that once support is in place, one of struggles that can arise, is keeping it there. And I would like to make it very clear that evidence a support system is working, is not evidence that it can be removed.

I have seen and heard of this across a variety of situations, and it is true of many scenarios where someone who struggles needs support to help them function in certain situations. Unfortunately, once that individual is seen to have made progress it is often deemed that the support is no longer required. This is not often the case.

This is particularly prevalent in schools, but also in the work environment, or simply day to day living. If someone is functioning better with support, then withdrawal of it can be devastating.

Do we all have different support needs? Yes. Do those needs fluctuate? Yes. These are the dynamics of being neurodivergent. But those supports, and the knowledge that they are there, are the help that's needed to become our best selves. We fight to get it. Then we must continue to fight to keep it. No one should be having to fight for the right to the support they need to function.

And however it is delivered, education is important. It exists to give every child the opportunity to acquire knowledge and skills that help them develop who they will become in the future. However, the onus should never be on the neurodivergent individual to be forced to rigidly conform to a system and structure that damages their mental health in order to access it. When we look at those who need help in school we rightly look to those who need academic support. Those with either learning disabilities, difficulties, or with different learning styles. Those who obviously struggle.

And with absolutely NOTHING taken away from that understanding or fight for equity, I also want to acknowledge those who don't. At least not obviously. Those kids who are naturally academically competent or even gifted. The 'smart' kids. The ''bright' kids. The group of students which undoubtedly also contains neurodivergent kids too. For many this can appear like they are 'fine in school'. But for those with academic ability this can be mistaken as being

very mature. Being able to handle situations beyond a child's actual capabilities. And those good grades can mistakenly be taken to mean you weren't struggling internally with their own emotions, executive function and in social situations.

Those who are naturally good at subjects, are often assessed as needing to be pushed to increasingly advanced levels to meet their 'potential'. They are believed to be able to study harder and longer, and assumed to be driven to want academic success. And that academic success can be mistaken for a transferable skill. Of course if you find science easy then making friends is a walk-over, right?

Those students are often believed to simply be smart enough to figure it out on their own, whatever the issue. And the praise for doing so is what makes a 'good kid'. A 'successful student'. And it is easy for them to internalise that traditionally measurable achievement as self worth because that's what they are praised for. And if they cannot do the 'easy' stuff then they can be labelled as not trying. Even if they demonstrate that they are more than capable of doing the 'hard' stuff that others cannot, this rarely leads to others question the definitions of 'hard' and 'easy', they often get thought of as lazy, stubborn or 'being difficult'.

So I ask not only that we look out for those neurodivergent kids who are struggling with academia, but also those who aren't. And make sure we aren't asking them to mask the struggles they do have, which can lie beyond the grade in a paper or within the broader context of life and learning.

And yes sometimes, it can feel like one step forward and three back. But we must always keep in mind the bigger picture. Life is complicated.

We face challenges everyday. We progress and we regress in our skills in light of these. But with the right understanding, acceptance and support we can make improvements to the best of our unique abilities.

So if you are feeling frustrated today, know that you are not alone, you are not failing, you've got this..... we've got this, together!

Diversity Doodles also has an Etsy shop: diversitydoodleprint.etsy.com

Briony is a single mum to an neurodiverse seven year old, whose experiences and struggles within the school system gave rise to her creation of Diversity Doodles. What began as a form of creative therapy and messages intended to help her son's school's understanding of both autism and ADHD, has now become messages of hope, information and inspiration to help bridge the gap between the acceptance, understanding, and support of neurodiversity in a neurotypical world. She is in the process of creating both a book and resources that can be used in a broad range of settings to help achieve a better world for those struggling in it.

You can connect with Briony through Facebook https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61557677262825

The Girl Who Changed the World

A novel of discovery, balance and feminine leadership by

critically acclaimed bestselling author,

Machiel Hoek

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0D9K7VX95

Dive into "The Girl Who Changed The World," where Lisa's journey of self-discovery unravels the mysteries of life, guided by her enigmatic grandfather and the secrets he holds.

Explore the balance of ancient wisdom and modern insights as Lisa navigates through the complexities of truth and reality, reshaping her understanding of herself and the world around her.

“If you have ever felt the stirrings of something greater, if you have ever dreamed of making a difference, if you have ever dared or wanted to follow your heart, this story is for you.” - Baptist de Pape, bestselling author of The Power of the Heart

Since childhood, Machiel Hoek wrestled with the stringent norms of societal life. He followed the traditional path of becoming a corporate CPA and CEO working with people in various countries with the finest minds –but with incomplete lives. However, Machiel has always remained a spiritual searcher. A decade ago, while on a first holiday in years, an inner voice nudged him to radically alter his life's course and dedicate it to unraveling the mystery of life.

Machiel left the world of international finance and started writing his book, The Girl Who Changed the World, which seeks to heal and unite humanity through its narrative. The novel has already reached over 25,000 readers in the Netherlands and continues to inspire – from corporate execs to youth.

Machiel made it his mission to share this book and its messages broadly, believing that this book is what the world needs now and what America needs now. Apart from inspiring individuals, this book also has its place in the business world for those people and leaders often lost regarding what truly matters. It aligns with messages blending spirituality with business, and the quest for personal fulfillment and transformation. It is Machiel’s earnest ambition to contribute tremendous value to a much needed, more balanced world, especially between masculine and feminine energy. Such a world lies within our grasp.

https://www.facebook.com/SylvaFae

Sylva Fae The Trilogy

“So, I guess you found the house, okay?”

“Yes, it’s a bit, er, remote...” I replied. She could picture Dana Bingley, her publisher, sat in her ordered office, a stark contrast to the isolated writers’ retreat she’d sent her to.

“Exactly! Countryside, fresh air, no WiFi, peace and quiet and no distractions – just what you need. Don’t forget, the deadline for book two is looming and you’ve barely started.”

“I know, I’ve just been struggling for inspiration, but I promise I’ll have a draft for you by the end of the weekend.”

“Good. Rest tonight, then explore the house and grounds tomorrow. I’m sure there’s plenty to get your creative juices flowing. The fridge and cupboards are stocked so there’s no need to leave until the book is done – I’m counting on you, Melinda.”

“Thanks Dana, I appreciate it.”

Why did I promise that? I’ve still no idea what to write and I daren’t tell her I’ve already spent the advance. Why did I sign a contract for a trilogy?

Melinda Meadows’ ‘Whispers of Serenity’ had shot to the top of the romance charts and readers were now clamouring for the next in the series. The first book had been easy, based on her own idyllic romance in a scenic country village, but the romance had soured. While she was busy doing book tours, James was busy romancing the neighbour! Suddenly, her inspiration was replaced with betrayal and a messy separation. She’d sunk into a gloomy depression, convincing herself that she’d write as soon as she felt better, but her mind could only conjure up images of discovering James’ deceit.

Melinda sighed, perhaps Dana was right, maybe she would find some inspiration within these walls. The stone cottage was old, full of character with wonky wooden beams, white rendered walls, and an open fire in the lounge. She lit the fire and snuggled on the rug, lazily watching the flames flicker. ***

I’m walking through grass, damp beneath my bare feet. I feel I know this place but I have never been here before, or have I? The way seems familiar. Cold hard stone underfoot now. Steps leading up to an ancient door set into the rockface above me. It glows in the flicker of candles. They light my way, beckoning. I will find what I seek inside… ***

Melinda woke and stretched to ease the knots in her back from sleeping at the hearth. The fire had long since gone out and sunlight now poured through the windows, making the room a lot cheerier than the night before. Despite the strange dreams invading her sleep, she felt invigorated. No time to waste, she made coffee and set up her laptop on a table that looked out onto an overgrown garden and a high cliff face beyond.

Several coffees later and the screen was still blank. Frustrated, Melinda slammed the laptop shut. The traumas of the last few months clouded her thoughts, blocking any new ideas. Perhaps book two should be about bitter betrayal and heartbreak – ‘Whispers of Deceit’, she mused, but shook off the idea. Her readers wanted happy endings, not tales of a lying cheat and his wreck of a partner, wallowing in her despair. Dana’s words came to mind – fresh air and countryside –maybe exploring the grounds would spark something.

The walk through the garden cheered her spirits. She followed the little paths that meandered around roses and flowering bushes, finally leading her to the edge of the garden, where the cliff loomed high above. Instinctively, she turned left to follow the rockface to where it met the high garden wall, and as if she’d conjured it from last night’s dream, stone steps led upwards towards an old wooden door.

Dana was right, this is the perfect inspiration. I wonder if it’s open? Maybe it’s an old larder or wine cellar?

There were no candles today, just a sunlit path to the door. It creaked open revealing a short passage, with what looked like a room up ahead. Common sense won over curiosity, and Melinda rolled over a boulder to prop the door open.

Thankfully, there was a light switch just inside the passage. She flicked the switch and a warm yellow glow illuminated a room filled with books. Bookcases lined every wall, in perfect alphabetical order, she noticed. She scanned the first shelf, some authors she knew, others she’d never heard of, but what stood out was the gold embossed Bingley Publishing logo on every spine, and for each author, there were three books. She wandered over to the shelf for ‘M’ authors, wondering if her book was there.

Melinda stopped and stared in confusion. Whispers of Serenity was indeed first on the shelf, but next to it sat the rest of the trilogy – Whispers of Desire and Whispers of Forever – but she hadn’t even decided on the titles yet, let alone written them. She grabbed the second one and flicked through the pages. It was blank, as was the third one, but the seed of an idea started to form.

Quickly, she ran back to the house to type it up before the ideas drifted away. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as if the characters were writing their own story.

The buzz of her phone woke her. She fumbled around to find it in the dark until the screen lit up under her fingers, and accepted the call.

“Hi, it’s Dana. Just checking how writing’s going?”

“Oh, hi Dana, hang on a minute…” Melinda felt her way to the wall and flicked on the lights. I must have fallen asleep while writing …

“I’m back. You were right, I did find inspiration here and I’ve made a start.”

“That’s brilliant news. What’s your word count?”

“Er…let me check…” Melinda wiggled the mouse to wake up her laptop, then stared in disbelief – the screen opened up to a page which said, ‘The End’. She scrolled back through pages and pages of story she had no memory of writing. “I…I…think I’ve finished it,” she said in disbelief.

Finally, the call ended and Melinda checked again. Book two was done but she’d no idea how. She remembered frantically typing her plot ideas but her mind was blank after that. She yawned, it was past bedtime and she could read the story tomorrow. She made sure the document was saved, then trudged up the rickety staircase to bed. ***

I’m walking down the passage to the secret library. I trail my fingers over the book spines until I find my own. The once blank pages are now full. Satisfied, I replace the book and pick up the next one. It’s blank pages long to be filled…the trilogy must be completed. ***

Before the coffee had even brewed, Melinda switched on the laptop to check. She opened up Whispers of Desire, and started to read. It was good. It was really good, maybe even better than the first book. Maybe I can finish the third book before I leave, she mused. Another walk to the hidden library might spark more inspiration.

Melinda hurried straight to the library in the cliff. She picked up Whispers of Desire and flicked through the pages – they were full of words, not blank like yesterday. Confused, she started to read. It was her story, or at least the one she had no recollection of typing. Quickly she picked up the third book, it was still blank, but like before, the ideas started to flood in.

The feeling of déjà vu washed over Melinda as she awoke to the buzzing of her phone. She vaguely remembered rushing home to type up the ideas, but again she must have fallen asleep at the table. She flicked the light on and nudged the mouse to wake up the laptop, then answered the call.

“Hi, Dana here. Have you got news for me?”

Melinda gasped in surprise. The screen lit up to show a completed book three.

“I think I’ve finished the trilogy…I still need to read through and check but…”

“Fantastic! I guess you found my hidden library then? ”

“Yes, how did you know? ”

“No matter, I need you to go back there now. I’ll stay on the phone while you go.”

“Okay,” Melinda answered hesitantly. She flicked the other switches until the garden was bathed in light. She rushed down the path and climbed the stone steps to the wooden door, then stepped inside.

“Are you there now?” Dana’s voice sounded strange, lacking her usual warmth.

“Yes, I’m inside,” Melinda said, feeling around for the light switch.

“Good. Do you remember the contract you signed? Three books. The trilogy is now complete and I have no further need of you.”

The phone went dead as the door slammed shut. Unable to find the light switch, Melinda quickly turned on her phone torch, but instead of seeing the passage to the hidden library, she was encased in a stone cave. Panicking, she spun around to leave but the door too had disappeared. As her phone battery died, plunging her into darkness, Dana’s words rang through her mind, “ https://www.facebook.com/SylvaFae

Charles Palliser is an American-born and British-based novelist. He is the author of five previous novels. His most well-known novel, The Quincunx, has sold over a million copies internationally. He is the elder brother of the late author and freelance journalist Marcus Palliser. He was born in Holyoke, Massachusetts, and lives in London, UK

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

I have both US and Irish citizenship and have spent most of my life in the UK. After graduating from Oxford I taught in universities in Scotland and England (and briefly at Rutgers in NJ) until 1990 when my first book, THE QUINCUNX, became a best -seller and allowed me to write full-time.

Are you a multi-genre author or a single-genre author? What types of books do you write?

All six of my published novels are very different and the new one, SUFFERANCE, published by Guernica Editions in May 2024, is completely unlike any of the earlier ones.

THE QUINCUNX is a very long and complicated mystery novel set in about 1820 and a little in the manner of Dickens but more like one of the wonderful novels by Wilkie Collins who in about 1860 virtually invented the detective novel in books like THE MOONSTONE and THE WOMAN IN WHITE. THE QUINCUNX is about a boy who grows up to find he is the central figure in a fierce legal battle for possession of a vast fortune which puts his life in danger because certain parties will benefit from his death. He has a series of terrifying adventures. At one point he finds himself implicated in the activities of a gang of grave-robbers. Then he penetrates the mansion of his enemies disguised as a lowly servant in order to steal a crucial document. At his worst point he makes a living by scavenging in the ancient sewers beneath the London streets.

My second novel, THE SENSATIONIST, could not have been more different: It’s very short, set in the period it was written, and constructed in short, almost fragmentary, scenes. It’s about a young man who comes to work in a city that is strange to him and plunges into a life of drugs, alcohol and casual sex. He becomes involved with a girl but treats her in a way that has tragic consequences.

My latest, SUFFERANCE, is the story of a man living in a country invaded by a brutal enemy. Against his wife’s advice, he offers shelter to a girl of thirteen from a minority community who has been separated from her family by the invasion. He believes her wealthy father will reclaim her very soon and will be so grateful that he will offer him a better job.

At first the girl seems charming but gradually she reveals the demons inside her that hint at the treatment she has had from her own family. Everything the narrator has assumed turns out to be mistaken. The girl’s parents don’t come back and her presence starts to tear apart his own family. His wife and two daughters come to resent and then hate the girl. Meanwhile the occupying power begins to persecute members of her community and the narrator and his family find themselves in increasing jeopardy for having committed the offence of trying to help her.

Interview by Melanie P. Smith

If you are a multi -genre author, do you have a favorite? Or, is one type of book easier for you to write than others, and why? Do you find it hard to balance them?

I enjoy all the genres I write in: mystery, thriller, satire, etc. The one I most enjoy and find easiest is the historical. Three of my novels are set in the nineteenth -century (THE QUINCUNX, THE UNBURIED, and RUSTICATION) and SUFFERANCE takes place during the Second World War.

If you are a single genre author, what draws you to that genre and compels you to write those stories?

What attracts me to the nineteenth-century as a setting is that it is both near and remote. We are only two-or-three generations removed from that period; and in so many ways, the people of that time are just like us. And then suddenly, they’re not like us at all because they accept as perfectly normal things like slavery, child-labour, the domination of women by men, and so on. That challenges us because it makes us wonder what assumptions we are making now about what is normal that in fifty or a hundred years our descendants will find it hard to believe we could accept.

Is there a genre you haven’ t tried that you would like to?

There are plenty of murders in my six novels and they are usually detected by someone – even if the killer is not indicted – but I’d like to try to write a “police procedural” that would follow an actual detective all the way from a murder to a conviction.

How long have you been writing? Did an event or person prompt you to take that leap?

I didn’t seem to need a prompt. I started writing stories before I was ten and was working on (unfinished) novels throughout my teens and early twenties. At the age of twenty -eight I began to write THE QUINCUNX which took the next twelve years.

What comes first the plot or the characters?

I can’t distinguish between them because they define each other as a novel evolves. I start by wondering what sort of situation it would be interesting to explore for what sort of character and the two gradually come into focus together. A certain turn of events will be more interesting for the reader if the central character has one sort of personality rather than another, so I might change that character.

What makes your book stand out from the crowd?

SUFFERANCE is a project I’ve thought about all my life but I didn’t want to write about it until I had something to say that I thought had not been said about it before. The Holocaust is a horror that makes us recognise the fragility of human decency and I wanted to explore the way extreme circumstances can force even a decent person into unimaginably horrific actions. I don’t think that angle has been explored in that way in relation to the Holocaust until now.

Sufferance

Set in Eastern Europe during the Second World War. When his nation is invaded and occupied by a brutal enemy, a wellintentioned man persuades his wife that they should give temporary shelter to a young girl who is at school with their daughter. He has no idea that the girl belongs to a community against whom the invader intends to commit genocide. Days stretch into weeks and then months while the enemy’s pitiless hatred of the girl’s community puts all of the family in danger. Nobody outside the family can be trusted with the dangerous secret and the threat from outside unlocks a darkness that threatens to derail them all. From the bestselling author of The Quincunx (over one million copies sold worldwide), comes a deeply unsettling psychological novel about the hideous decisions that people are forced to make when living under tyrannical regimes.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0CQ5HJ5CS

Mark Twain said “Write what you know.” Tell us about your writing process. Are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you plot, plan, and conduct hours of research; or, do you just sit down and write whatever comes to mind based on your personal history and knowledge?

I’m more of a planner than an improviser and that’s because I think a novel is most satisfying when there’s not just a forward movement of discovery but at the same time a retrospective insight into what the reader has already learned, and that effect can only be achieved when the novelist has prepared for it. However, you have to leave room to invent new elements as you put the plan into practice. For example, I always leave the ending of a novel as open as I can for as long as possible. I don ’t want to decide how it should end until I’ve written most of it and the ending then almost writes itself.

How or where do you find the plots you write about?

They’re everywhere. When I used to teach creative writing I would sometimes take in the day’s newspaper and show the students a dozen stories that could be the basis of a novel. Yet I’ve never consciously taken a “real” story. My narratives seem to emerge from a pot-pourri of actual events and day -dreams and real dreams and contrived plots.

Have you ever killed off a character your readers loved?

Some readers have been shocked by what happens at the end of SUFFERANCE but the death of the hero’s mother in THE QUINCUNX is the one that most upset people. (And it upset me to have to write it.)

Would you and your main character get along?

What’s your favorite and least favorite part of publishing?

I enjoy being interviewed because it’s always nice to get attention! I used to enjoy the travel to promote a book –

I’ve been all over the UK and all round Canada and the US and to Paris, Madrid, Amsterdam, etc. After a lot of that I’m rather bored with airports and am very happy now to do the interviews online!

The man who tells his story in SUFFERANCE would probably never become a close friend. He’s rather too earnest for me and has no sense of humor. I would have loathed the young man in THE SENSATIONIST. The hero of THE QUINCUNX is someone I would like and admire, but I would also see that his dreadful experiences growing up have given him a hardness and a bitterness that I would find unattractive.

What is the most valuable piece of advice you’ve been given about writing?

I once met John Updike and he uttered this single sentence before walking away: “Never feel grateful to your publisher.” It’s excellent advice to a beginning writer but I’ve never been able to follow it!

Whom do you trust for objective and constructive criticism of your work?

I have two friends who are novelists whom I can trust to tell me things I don ’t want to hear – and they are the only comments that are useful when you’re struggling to make a manuscript come alive.

What are your current projects?

I have just finished a novel I will probably call THE DISRUPTOR. It’s about an English teenager who, when his mother dies suddenly, finds that his legal guardian is a wealthy New York property developer who has presidential ambitions and a very murky business profile. The young man is taken into the family but gradually realises that his mere existence conflicts with his guardian’s political hopes. He is in danger and has to escape but he has no money and no friends.

If you could invite any three people for dinner, whom would you invite?

Shakespeare aside, it would be Jane Austen, Abraham Lincoln and Winston Churchill. What an assembly of intelligence and wisdom!(Plus me!)

Would you share something about yourself that your readers don’t know (yet)?

Since finishing THE QUINCUNX I have been working on a “followup”. It’s neither a sequel nor a prequel but has a complicated relation to that novel.

Can you share a sample of your current work with us?

I am about to publish my first ever novella, THE TWIST OF THE KNIFE: A young governess in a remote house in England in the Victorian period is accused of murdering one of her pupils. She pleads her innocence and claims the house is haunted by murderous ghosts. Is she insane or is something even more sinister going on?

It is, of course, a riff on the famous story by Henry James, the masterpiece called THE TURN OF THE SCREW. I turn it into a sort of mystery novel in which the “facts” in the original story are given an extraordinary “twist” to offer an astonishing explanation of what has really been going on.

If you could spend a day with another author, whom would you choose?

Are you a cat person or a dog person?

I’m crazy about cats.

It would have to be Shakespeare. Would he turn out to be a quiet, even shy, man with little to say? Someone you’d hardly notice or remember meeting? Or would he be the funniest and most thought-provoking person you could imagine with a repertoire of stories that would have you laughing one moment and sobbing the next? In short, was it all bottled up and released only into the writing or was it on display? We just don’t know.

How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? Or has one stuck with you more than others?

I’ve published six. THE QUINCUNX changed my life and brought pleasure to many readers. (I’ve been told that so often I think I can state it in all modesty.) Parts of it moved me deeply while writing it and the only novel that has been even more emotionally demanding is SUFFERANCE.

What is the most inspiring feedback you've ever received from a reader?

A well-known American novelist contacted me to say how powerfully SUFFERANCE had affected her and wrote: “At the end tears blurred my page.” That was the reaction I had hoped for.

Other than your current WIP, do you have any unfinished books? Do you think you will ever finish them?

I have too many! I hope to finish Volume One of the followup to THE QUINCUNX within a couple of years. It’s harder to predict when Volume Two will be finished.

Can you share any upcoming projects or plans for future books?

THE TWIST OF THE KNIFE is imminent. THE DISRUPTOR will be out soon, I hope. And then the follow -up to THE QUINCUNX that I’ve mentioned.

One final question...Do you have a blog/website? If so, what is it? Do you have a social media platform where your fans can go to interact with you and follow your progress?

I am only now getting into using social media though I do have this on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/charles.palliser

How long does it take you to write a book?

I took twelve years to write the very long THE QUINCUNX but only two to complete THE UNBURIED which is also pretty long. So it’s impossible to generalize.

How do you decide if a story will be standalone or part of a series?

All my novels until now have been conceived as a one-off.

Do you aim for a set number of words/pages per day? Or, do you just write and let the story decide when you stop and take a break?

I aim for a set number of hours and not words. I usually write for four to six hours a day.

If money was no issue, would you prefer a cozy beach bungalow or a rustic cabin overlooking a mountain lake?

The cabin. I’d love to have a spectacular view.

Matthew (Matt) Hughes writes fantasy, space opera, crime fiction, and historical novels. He has sold 24 novels to publishers large and small in the UK, US, and Canada, as well as 100 works of short fiction to professional markets.

He has won the Endeavour and Arthur Ellis Awards, and has been shortlisted for the Aurora, Nebula, Philip K. Dick, Endeavour, A.E. Van Vogt, Neffy, Derringer, and High Plains Book Awards. He has been inducted into the Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy Association’s Hall of Fame

People who sign up for his monthly newsletter will receive a free ebook of his short story collection, 9 Tales of Henghis Hapthorn: http://eepurl.com/cyNSA9

Orphaned at twelve, Margolyam leaves the port city of Golathreon to live with her aunt Oleadora, a sorceress and healer in the inland market town of Keddrick. But her new life brings out qualities in the girl that she never knew she possessed, and Margolyam begins a journey of self-discovery that will plunge her into the world of wizardry, with all its manifold wonders and dire perils.

“…a tale that captures that special ‘golden age’ feel in which mankind has travelled far into the stars yet still behaves as though it’s the Wild West.” David White, RNR Magazine

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0DC7NY763

The newest Dying Earth fantasy novel by critically acclaimed novelist, Matthew Hughes

More from Matthew Hughes:

“I really enjoyed Barbarians of the Beyond. Matthew Hughes does Jack Vance better than anyone except Jack himself.” George R. R. Martin

“Lock the door, turn off the phone, get into a comfy chair, and deep-dive into a marvelous continuation of Jack Vance's Demon Princes series. Matthew Hughes is a treasure and Barbarians of the Beyond is a terrific adventure.” David Gerrold

77 ½ Magical Healing Herbs

By Ronesa Aveela

Hedgenettle

Venture into the magical, healing world of herbs and embrace the power of nature. This article is taken from the book 77 ½ Magical Healing Herbs, which is an introduction to herbs found in a special Midsummer ’s wreath. This is an especially enchanting time of year. Among the Bulgarians, the day is called Eniovden. You may think herbs are only for spicing up food and healing the body and mind, but they have other uses, as well. This unique herbal book is an essential guide for tapping into the power of herbs. It highlights centuries of lore and historical facts about healing and magical uses of herbs from Slavic and other traditions.

Please see the medical and magical disclaimers before you try any of the recipes from the book.

Description: Slender, square, hairy stems rise to about 1 to 2 feet (30 to 60 cm) out of a

rosette of basal leaves. Pairs of oblong leaves with a heart-shaped base alternate up the stem at wide intervals. The leaves are deeply veined and rough, with short, fine hairs. They grow up to 7 inches (18 cm) long. Two -lipped, pink to lavender flowers form in a spiked whorl of about six flowers around the top of the stem. The lower lip is longer and speckled with white dots. The flowers produce four brown nutlets that are smooth and triangular. The root is thick and woody.

History and Traditions: The genus name is believed to come from the Celtic words bew for “head” and ton for “good,” because it was a medical remedy for physical and mental health issues related to the head. Its previous genus name of Stachys comes from a Greek word for “ear of grain,” referring to the spiked shape of the flowers. In Bulgaria, the plant is called haidushka bilka (haiduk herb), after the revolutionary haiduti. These fighters lived in the woods and lacked access to doctors, so they highly prized the plant for its healing abilities. It was a valuable herb to many ancient cultures, Egypt, Rome, and Greece included. Emperor Augustus ’s physician wrote that it cured no less than forty -seven diseases, including arthritis, gout, snake and dog bites, and drunkenness. It was planted in gardens of apothecaries and monasteries alike. The plant’s uses went beyond medical. It was believed to protect a person from sorcery and prevent graveyard ghosts from being active.

Habitat and Distribution: : Native to Europe, western Asia, and northern Africa. The plant grows mostly in dry grasslands and open woods.

Growth: Perennial. Depending on the location, the plant blooms between June and September. It prefers partial shade and soil that’s slightly moist.

Harvesting: The entire herb is used. Harvest the upper part while it’s flowering and the roots in autumn. Collect them in the morning after the dew has evaporated. Cut the stem a little above the roots and strip off any discolored or insect -eaten leaves. Tie the stalks into bundles of six, spread out so the air circulates through them, and hang them to dry in the shade, or dry them in a dehydrator at around 104°F (38°C). Dry the roots the same way. Store them in a dry place.

Medical Use: The plant is for problems related to the head, such as headaches and migraines, as well as a mouthwash to treat mouth, gum, and throat problems. It helps speed up the healing of open wounds, reduces inflammation, and stops bleeding. It’s also used for digestive problems, to improve blood circulation, relieve respiratory problems, and many other issues, such as swelling, hives, shingles, and rashes.

Rituals and Magical Use: As in days of old, the plant is for protection and to keep spirits from escaping a graveyard. Hedgenettle also protects from negativity, misfortune, and hexes when grown around the home or carried on one’s person (in particular, under a hat). If you scatter the plant near the door, it prevents unwanted energies and people from getting inside. Stuffing the herb in or under your pillow will prevent nightmares and night terrors. Hedgenettle can also be used for purification, love, clarity, and stress relief. If you add it to food, it will calm tempers and soothe quarrels. It can also protect you from love spells.

Other Use: A deep yellow dye can be made from the leaves.

Other Names: Betony, common hedgenettle, purple betony, wood betony, bishopwort, bishop’s wort, woundwort. It was previously known as Stachys betonica and Stachys officinalis.

Aromatic: The leaves are bitter and their surface is covered with glands that produce a lemony smell when crushed. Roots when dried have a bitter taste.

CAUTION: Children, pregnant and lactating women, and anyone suffering from diabetes or low blood pressure should avoid using the herb.

Protective Powers

It was once believed that serpents would fight and kill each other if you placed a ring of hedgenettle around them. Others said wild beasts would eat the herb when wounded and be cured. For humans, Apuleius says it was good for the soul and body, shielding man from visions and dreams. His prescribed method of harvesting the plant was to gather it in August without using an iron instrument, shake off the “mold,” dry it in the shade, and then reduce the roots to dust. It was to be taken whenever it was needed (Botanical.com).

Herbs are powerful, but they can also be dangerous.

MEDICAL LIABILITY DISCLAIMER: The information in this article, in the book and on our website is not intended to be medical advice, nor does it claim that the herbs listed are safe or effective to use in the manners described. It is not meant to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease. It is merely a brief summary of various herbal folk remedies and how they have been used in the past and may still be used today. With the exception of a few personal recipes, we have not tried any of these remedies and cannot verify their effectiveness or safety.

MAGICAL DISCLAIMER: Magical ingredients and spells are for entertainment only. We have not tried any of these remedies, nor do we make any claims as to their effectiveness or safety.

77 and a Half Herbs?

The wheels in your mind have probably been turning as you think, “77½ herbs is an odd number.” And you’re right. But it’s a special, magical number, referring to herbs gathered on Eniovden, June 24, when Bulgarians celebrate Midsummer’s Day. If you want to find out the secret of the half herb, you’ll have to read the book.

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/ronesa -aveela/77-1-2-magical-healing-herbsthe-secret-power -of-herbs

Ronesa Aveela is “the creative power of two.” Two authors that is. The main force behind the work, the creative genius, was born in Bulgaria and moved to the US in the 1990s. She grew up with stories of wild Samodivi, Kikimora, the dragons Zmey and Lamia, Baba Yaga, and much more. Her writing partner was born and raised in the New England area. She has a background in writing and editing, as well as having a love of all things from different cultures. She’s learned so much about Bulgarian culture, folklore, and rituals, and writes to share that knowledge with others.

By

TOM BENSON

West Berlin before reunification. He saw active service in Northern Ireland and the first Gulf War. A career in retail management followed and lasted 25 years. Since 2007 Tom has published novels, anthologies and poetry. https://tombensonauthor.com/

Blood Brothers

August 1970

South Vietnam

Jeff White dropped flat onto the damp and stinking jungle floor when he heard the automatic gunfire. The dense foliage didn’t prevent Jeff distinguishing the rapid, dull thuds of Kalashnikovs several had been fired simultaneously.

As the twenty-one-year-old, US Marine lay there with his M-16 clasped in his hands cocked and

ready, he had no target. Duty told him to get up and run towards the firing, but common sense and instinct told him he’d die, just as surely as his comrades must have done. The Viet Cong would go around the bodies and ensure nobody survived it was their style.

Among the fusillade of the ambush, there had been a few short bursts of a different, lighter, crisper sound, as Red Patrol returned fire at an unseen enemy. There had been shouts and screams of pain, and then silence. The VC had chosen their site well.

Jeff lay in the undergrowth, teeth clamped together, eyes blazing, trying to contain the urge to scream and run forward to certain death. Tears threatened, but the professional in the man forced him to hold them back. This was no time for pity, whether it was for himself or his comrades this was a time to pause, think, and concentrate.

Jeff had tried to enlist as Jeff White Eagle but had been told there was no place in the US Marines for a man with such a name. Unlike the ‘Ghost Whisperers’ who were Navajo, Jeff was Apache and able to trace his bloodline back to the great war-leader, Geronimo. Although not a chief, Geronimo was recognised as one of the real heroes of the Native American peoples.

Jeff enjoyed immense pride to be of Native American blood and accepted into the Marine Corps. He took more abuse than any other man to prove his worthiness, and on the day he passed the course the chief instructor stood close to him on parade. Their faces were inches apart, and their eyes communicated.

Gunnery Sergeant Ford said, “When you’re in the jungle, use your training, but think and act as your ancestors would. These men have learned to respect your bravery and skills. Out there, you will become blood-brothers. You are as much a Marine as any of them, and I’m proud of you.”

The Gunny shook Jeff’s hand on parade that day true acceptance.

All the hardships of training replayed in Jeff’s mind as he lay in the stinking quagmire. He thought of his white half-brothers as he jokingly referred to his comrades. The Gunny’s prophecy had rung true. Jeff and the other men had become brothers.

The soldier eased up into a crouching position, his weapon pointing forward, ready to use. His lips were slightly parted to improve his hearing, and as he moved his head slowly from side to side, he used all his senses to smell or see anything unusual. The rifle muzzle pointed where Jeff’s gaze fell.

He thought of Red Patrol, many of whom had been young men he’d trained with, and on occasion helped. They’d arrived in Southeast Asia together and gone on to share months of heat, and discomfort in this godforsaken place, and now he was alone. Of that, he was certain.

On occasion, during the tour of duty, Jeff would take the lead, but on this day he’d been trusted as Tail-end, Charlie. He’d hit the ground like any soldier, but when he stood up, he began to move through the jungle like an animal. In his mind, he had already reverted to his bloodline.

He’d waited that short while, wondering if the enemy soldiers would come past his location, but there had been nothing. After the brief, but loud burst of automatic fire in the near distance, the jungle had gone deathly silent for several minutes, and then it had come alive. The birds chattered, once again going about their business, but mindful of danger.

Jeff was several metres into the undergrowth, and away from what would laughingly be called the primary jungle trail. He didn’t move like a man in uniform carrying a modern weapon. He moved like a wraith, not making a sound, as each footstep landed slowly and he moved forward with the stealth of a big cat stalking prey.

It was one hundred metres to the carnage, but it took Jeff twenty minutes to cover the distance. Before he went near the bodies, he crouched beneath the nearest overhanging branches and listened.

He moved forward through the undergrowth to the scene of the ambush and steeled himself for what he would find. With a heavy heart, he went among his dead comrades, stopping to listen. The injuries confirmed what Jeff already knew. His friends had died in the hail of bullets, in a perfect trap. He heard a wheezing sound and spun, rifle at the ready.

Jeff moved forward and found the body of the patrol commander, twenty-two-year-old Kentuckian, Lt Casper Knight. The officer’s eyes were open and glazing over. Though his lips twitched, there was a steady trickle of blood from injuries to his lungs and stomach. He had little time left.

“Avenge us ... White Eagle.” Casper gasped and coughed up blood. Jeff’s true name was known in the platoon, but never used.

Jeff unsheathed his hunting knife and performed an age-old ritual, drawing blood from his palm and that of his dying comrade. He pressed their hands together.

“I’ll fight them, Casper, while our blood moves in my veins.”

Casper’s hand gripped Jeff’s hand tight. The officer’s eyes blinked several times rapidly, he coughed up another mouthful of blood, and his body shook violently. He passed, with the trace of a smile on his lips.

White Eagle removed his helmet, and peeled his lightweight webbing from his shoulders, laying his issued equipment next to his blood brother. He retained his webbed belt. The survivor topped

up his canteen from the water his comrades had in theirs, and then he took Lt Knight ’s bottle and filled it in a similar fashion.

A massacre like this had been discussed in training, and by the men occasionally in private conversation. It was not considered looting, but survival. Water was life in the jungle.

To the belt, White Eagle attached the scabbard for his hunting knife and two small pouches for food and basic first aid kit. In a rapid sequence, he went around and removed the firing pin from every weapon, before returning to his patrol commander.

Lt Knight had been quick to accept the Native American as a warrior, and rank aside they’d developed a mutual respect for each other when times were hard. White Eagle removed his personal dog tags and hung them around the dead officer’s neck, intertwining the cords. To ensure any US recon patrols got the message, he placed his personal weapon on the body alongside the officer’s gun.

Something came to mind. White Eagle fished in the officer’s left breast pocket, pulled out his lighter, opened the lid, and flicked the wheel. As a small flame appeared he remembered Casper joking, “If only your forefathers had one of these.” They’d laughed together.

The Native American pocketed the lighter. He removed an item from each of his dead comrades, assessed the scene one more time, and silently blended into his surroundings.

When darkness came, it fell quickly. Before it happened, White Eagle circumnavigated the scene of the massacre and looked for a sign as he moved. It was before the curtain of night fell when he discovered the treasure.

He stepped slowly into an area where the foliage had been disturbed in a line several metres long. He found spent cartridge casings and nodded slowly. They belonged to the ammunition used by the VC. He moved a short distance away and sheltered in a tree to catnap.

White Eagle woke to the dawn chorus. For the first minute, only his eyes moved, and then he parted his lips to listen. He flipped open a pocket on his jacket and lifted out a vacuum pack. He had no need for taste or pleasure. White Eagle added water and rapidly consumed the contents. A mouthful of water followed.

As he’d dozed on the previous night, the Marine had formed a simple plan and now as the darkness was becoming a world of subdued light, and green once again, he knew his mind was made up. He would emulate his hero, Geronimo.

If the VC wanted to wage war as guerrillas, he would provide a demonstration. He was a direct descendant of one of the greatest guerrilla fighters in history. Both of his parents had died in a

reservation – a region set aside for those of their race. White Eagle’s father often related tales of the courage shown by young men in the tribe’s proud history.

‘Perhaps my son, as a US soldier you might find a modern glory.’

The words of his dying father had remained clear in his mind throughout the hardships of training and helped to drive him on. Now he would establish the glory of which his father talked.

Whether in their haste to flee the scene, or because they had been in high spirits, the VC patrol had left sufficient sign to follow with ease. Patience was in White Eagle’s nature, and he avoided recognised trails, so his progress was slow but steady.

The warrior stopped only to snack, and take sips of water. It was before darkness fell when he tasted something in the air. Drifting through the foliage in the ground mist was the unmistakable aroma of boiled rice. White Eagle moved with the stealth of a wild animal, often pausing, parting his lips to savour the air and listen.

A trapdoor may be well camouflaged in the jungle, but Mother Nature can be an unreliable bed partner. A small patch of flowers had wilted before closing, and when White Eagle crawled closer, he knew why. He caressed the area with an open palm and sensed the heat rising from below. It had taken twenty minutes of searching before he discovered the secret entrance. He pulled his knife and eased up the foliage covered trapdoor. Faint food aroma became stronger and was accompanied by whispers. White Eagle spent a long time in the area, locating the strong, straight branches he required, and the vines to support them.

The Native American had decided to fight the enemy as a lone warrior with no dependence on modern weaponry, but in deference to his dead comrades, he had taken a hand grenade from each of them. The spirit of every member of Red Patrol would be satisfied to see an Earthly device repaying a debt.

Before the birds moved from their roosts, a hunter was already crawling around in the stinking, damp heat, working rapidly. White Eagle managed to discover several trapdoors. He knew there would be more, but these were enough to suit his purpose. He rigged up a device to deal with each, and close by stacked a pile of a rare jungle find dry foliage.

White Eagle used mud and greenery to reapply his smelly, natural camouflage and then crawled back among the undergrowth to observe the area. He had two vines drawn back to his position and tied off. The other devices would be operated by the lifting of the trapdoors, but only if they went high enough for a body to emerge.

A whooshing sound was followed seconds later by a blood-curdling scream. The casualty fell

back inside, blocking the southern exit from the network of tunnels. White Eagle’s eyes eagerly scanned the area to his front, and sure enough, a patch of foliage lifted a few metres to his left.

The trapdoor dropped again after a quick gasp from the emerging VC. Before the man could respond, a small device the size of an apple had swung inside the hole. Three seconds later a muffled explosion occurred underground, and the pressure caused surrounding trees to tremble. Leaves quivered for several seconds, and birds took flight.

White Eagle noted a plume of smoke filtering from a hatch he’d not seen during his search. He cut the two vines he’d tied off, and then moved forward, lifting a bundle of dry tinder as he went. When he reached the newly discovered trapdoor, he lit the kindling, lifted the natural-looking lid, and dropped the flaming branches inside. There was a bout of shouting and coughing, before the sound of muffled gunfire.

It took White Eagle three minutes to go to each of the trapdoors and seal them closed with the nearby trees he’d cut down on the previous night.

As water will find a way to descend through rock, so smoke will fight to find an escape from underground. There were three more whooshing sounds, each followed by short, but high-pitched screams. Wisps of smoke drifted from the base of a large tree fifty metres away from what must have been the main complex. The lone warrior drew his knife and raced towards the tree.

When he reached it, he saw the thin black wire entwined around the clinging vine which naturally climbed the tree. Not only was this the last escape tunnel, but it was also where the radio was located. With the VC, a radio meant an officer.

The VC leader opened his eyes. Like all truly hard men, he was prepared to fight to the death, but give nothing to his enemy. Opening his eyes was easy enough, but he had difficulty breathing. As he moved his head and scanned the area around him, there was searing pain from a tender spot in the back of his skull.

He tried to raise a hand to remove the item which was thrust into his gaping mouth but realised his wrists were bound. When he pulled again, he found the bindings were also attached to his ankles, and the movement pulled his arms and legs toward each other.

The VC leader continued to look around and saw a strand of vine led from the object in his mouth to a tree two metres away. A movement caught his eye. He focused on a camouflaged man squatting among the foliage fifty metres away. He was nodding.

When the hog-tied prisoner turned his head, he heard a light ping. The ends of the split pin on a hand grenade are bent to prevent accidental removal, but when the ends have been straightened,

the pin will slide as if lubricated. When the ruthless VC guerrilla moved his head, the small item which pinged and flew out into the undergrowth was the safety lever, which having departed, left the remainder of the mechanism to perform their various tasks.

For five minutes pieces of foliage and VC flesh slithered down through the branches of the nearby greenery. As the unique rain of substances dripped to become nourishment for the undergrowth, a lone figure slipped into the depths of the jungle.

For four years, White Eagle remained in the South Vietnamese jungle. Often, his US countrymen were unable to explain some acts of horrific violence which befell the guerrilla fighters of the Viet Cong.

In March 1974, one year after what was claimed to be the end of the war and the withdrawal of US troops, White Eagle breached the security of the American Embassy compound in Saigon and handed himself over to the authorities.

He was flown back to the United States, where after lengthy debriefing returned to the land of his forefathers. White Eagle was twenty-five years old. To wake each day, to speak to his ancestors, and to eat and sleep may not be Heaven, but it would be close, for a man who ’d already been to Hell.

The End

A story taken from, A Time for Courage: and other military stories

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B01DMZI4I4

A collection of 12 stories created using a wide spectrum of scenarios. Military experiences can be funny, heart-breaking and, everything in between. This anthology is a blend of my personal experience and knowledge together with specially created pieces to highlight the highs and lows of service life. These tales can be enjoyed equally by those who have served and, those who have never donned a uniform.

Humour, fact, fiction, and fantasy are used to portray service in theatres as varied as Vietnam, Northern Ireland, Ancient Briton, the Persian Gulf, Africa, and elsewhere.

Russell G.

Little

Russell G. Little is a writer and practicing divorce attorney. Murder for Me is a fictionalized compilation of the many people he’s encountered over his lifetime and thirty-two-year career.

He lives in Houston, Texas, with his wife of thirty-two years, Melinda.

Interview

by Melanie P. Smith

Tell us about yourself:

I live with my wife in the hills of Georgia outside Atlanta. I practiced law 41 years in Houston, Texas. I graduated from The University Of Texas School of Law in 1983. I was raised in a small Panhandle town named Amarillo.

I’ve run marathons, surfed, traveled throughout most of the world. I’ve tried over 50 jury trials and 100’s of trials by judge. I spent the last 20 years practicing mainly family and criminal law.

My first book came out several years ago, Murder For Me. My next book, Murder By Storm, comes out in October.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B01HOXV36K

What makes your book stand out from the crowd?

My next book is a murder thriller during a hurricane. I’ve ridden out at least five hurricanes. It’s unlike anything else. And when Hurricane Harvey hit Houston for five days, I was right in the middle of it. I helped refugees in the centers, and living downtown I would actually walk around downtown during the hurricane. You see unbelievable things happen that if you didn’t see them, you wouldn’t believe it could happen. I wanted to put those in a book, and in my next book, I do that.

You can’t imagine how the plan for a murder changes, what you do after, how you avoid the police, when there’s a hurricane pounding down on you. I did.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0DD7WCL8G

Would you and your main character get along?

I would not get along with my main antagonist. Her name is Marilyn, and she’s not like the rest of us. We’re sheep, she’s a wolf. We’re prey, she’s a predator.

O.C. Simms, the detective that seeks to catch her, would be a close friend. He’s the kind of guy I like to be around because he is always entertaining me. He’s either working on something that I find interesting, like rebuilding a car lift or a special wine closet with moving shelves, he has some new business plan, or he’s busy telling you how you can do something better. Know it all’s annoy most people, but I find them entertaining because they’re fun to torture. That’s why I made my protagonist have this amusing characteristic, and in my novels I have a lot of fun with it.

Have you ever killed off a character your readers loved?

This is my favorite question that I’ve ever been asked during an interview. Yes. Definitely, yes. In Murder For Me, I kill several people. My readers seemed okay with this. No complaints. Great Reviews. There is a wonderful, beautiful animal that I won’t mention though that also meets its demise. And I received unbelievable unhappy feedback on it. My own sister called me yelling, “…why’d you have to kill the ….”

In my next book, the young girl has a beautiful retired police German Shepard. He’s like one of the stars of the book. I must say that my editor threatened me the entire time I was writing the book that I better not kill that dog. Readers wouldn’t tolerate it. She wouldn’t tolerate it!

One final question…Do you have a website? Do you have a social media platform where your fans can to?

You’ll just have to read it yourself, of course, to find out what happens.

My website is RussellLittleAuthor.com. There’s a page that includes all my recent interviews, both print and video. It includes the podcasts I’ve been on as well. I’m also on Author Talk, a podcast on all channels and that you can watch live on Monday mornings and you can find it on the Facebook Author Talk channel as well. I have a Facebook page, Russell’s Stories, where I post updates about my interviews and interests. You can post comments there that I’ll respond to.

AI by Kenny Wilson

Are we committing suicide with AI tech do we embrace it, face it or try to replace it? If so with what?

Are we creating the end of the human race? Are we the slaves to the new masters? We already send contactless payments to contactless people.

Check out our shopping on faceless facilities. Are we really in control of our own destiny? No reply emails send us final demands.

Computers voices give us commands, shopping infrared scanned, iPhone direct you when you don’t understand.

Automated beer! What’s that all about? Can a machine chat to you and ask if the kids are alright?

Car company robots can boil an egg but who got the egg? Who cleaned up the mess?

Who will clean up this mess? This isn’t a game of chess, soon there be no humans left

Should we be alarmed? at this new Animal farm! The pigs with their whips have been replaced by a microchip.

Kenny, originally from Scotland, moved to Macclesfield when he was one. Despite few qualifications, he built a career in top restaurants, even cooking for royalty. Through his work, he found lifelong friendships and eventually the fuel for his creativity. Inspired by a spoken-word poet, he sought help from the Macclesfield community to bring his writing to life. In May 2024, he published his book. The book hit number 12 on Amazon Poetry, won several awards, and was featured in the Burnt Chef mental health project. Grateful for his success and those who supported him, Kenny reflects, "Not bad for a kid from Macc." Bio written by Saoirse Kilkenny

https://www.instagram.com/petethys

Kenny Wilson profile photo by Pete Thys

The Mouse Family That Live By

The Brambles

by Sylva Fae

Photography by Gez Robinson

Gez Robinson is a talented wildlife photographer from Yorkshire, England. For the last few years, I’ve been following the story of a family of mice, that live in an area of the garden dedicated to wildlife. It has been fascinating to watch the trust that has built up between the mice and Gez, as he patiently sits behind the camera. The photos are stunning, and show what characters wild mice are, whether it be their quirky antics in their natural environment, or their curiosity as they interact with the props left by Gez for the mice to explore.

Gez has been a wildlife photographer for around fifteen years, and has a passion for wildlife. During the first pandemic lockdown, craving his photography fix, he started taking photos of the birds and other wildlife in his garden.

“…and that’s when I spotted a little mouse on the old decking. It was looking at a blackberry on the blackberry bush and just stood there whilst I took photos of it. My passion with the mouse family was born.”

Since the early successes of the Mouse Family That Live by the Brambles facebook page, Gez has published a book of the same name and set up other social media accounts.

https://www.facebook.com/bramblemouse

https://www.gezrobinsonphotography.co.uk/

Instagram: gez_robinson_photography

TikTok: @mousefamilybythebrambles

Copyright @ Gez Robinson for all photos featured in this article.

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

Lynda Monahan is the author of four collections of poetry, A Slow Dance in the Flames (Coteau Books 1998), What My Body Knows (Coteau Books 2003) Verge (Guernica Editions 2015) and a cowritten collection, A Beautiful Stone: poems and ululations (Radiant Press 2019). She facilitates a number of creative writing workshops and has been writer-in-residence at St. Peter’s College facilitated retreat, Balfour Collegiate in Regina, writer -in-residence at the Prince Albert Public Library and writer on the wards at Victoria Hospital in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan. She is editor of several collections including Second Chances: stories of brain injury survivors, Skating in the Exit Light, a poetry anthology, and With Just One Reach of Hands, an anthology of the writing of the Canadian Mental Health Association ’s Writing For Your Life group, which she also facilitates. She has served on the council for the League of Canadian Poets, Sage Hill Writing Experience and the Saskatchewan Writers Guild. She has recently completed a year as lead artist for an Artists in Communities project through the Sask Arts Board, mentoring local artists to develop long term community arts programming.

https://skwriter.com/find-saskatchewan-writers/lynda-monahan

https://www.facebook.com/p/Lynda -Monahan-100069626357913

Lynda Monahan

Lynda Monahan

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0DCTWQ5ZT

Lynda Monahan

Are you a cat person or a dog person?

Dog person, definitely

What’ s your favorite and least favorite part of publishing?

I actually love all of it. It’s exciting to see a book take shape.

Are you a multi-genre author or a single-genre author? What types of books do you write?

I am primarily a poet and all of my books are collections of poetry. I ’ve dabbled a bit in creative nonfiction and songwriting as well as I have a children ’s story.

What draws you to poetry and compels you to write those collections?

I like the economy of language which poetry affords. I enjoy the crafting of a poem. Alden Nowlan once said poetry should hit you right in the heart. I think the writing of poetry allows me to say what I want most to say most clearly.

How long have you been writing? Did an event or person prompt you to take that leap?

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. My grandfather encouraged my early attempts and his belief in me as a writer helped me to believe in myself. I studied creative writing with well known Canadian poet Lorna Crozier and she made me realize I had something worth writing about that other people might care about too.

Is there a genre you haven’ t tried that you would like to?

I’d like to do more songwriting .

How or where do you find the plots you write about?

The subject matter for my poems is drawn from my life, my experiences, the people I know and love, loss, places I have been and my home in the forest.

What makes your book stand out from the crowd?

This new collection, The Door at the End of Everything, written while I was hospital writer-inresidence at the Victoria Hospital in Prince Albert, working often on the adult and youth mental health wards, the tight, pared poems in The Door at the End of Everything give voice to and honour those living with mental illness, speaking to not only the suffering but also the courage and hope that is so clearly there as well.

Mark Twain said “Write what you know.” Tell us about your writing process. Are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you plot, plan, and conduct hours of research; or, do you just sit down and write whatever comes to mind based on your personal history and knowledge?

I don’t write every day. I write when something moves me to write about it, when I feel a strong emotional connection to someone or something I’ve experienced. When I’m passionate then I need to sit down and put words to it. Writing helps me understand and process and communicate life.

Would you and your main character get along?

What comes first the plot or the characters?

Poetry is mostly about truth

Since I’m a poet I gave no particular main character but when a poem has a main character I am writing about that person because I care.

What is the most valuable piece of advice you’ve been given about writing?

To believe in myself and the value of my work.

Whom do you trust for objective and constructive criticism of your work?

The members of my poetry group who encourage and support me and offer valuable critique.

Can you share a sample of your current work with us?

LABELS

this is jail she writes in her journal the sick word she means to spell psych but its really the same I wonder she says how they got that word Schizophrenia how did they name Normal? they label me like dangerous goods just so you know what you’re dealing with what there is inside of me they discount whatever I say as crazy talk tossing my words aside useless as dollar bin deals

What are your current projects?

I’m just starting in on some new poems that look at hope as well as I’m editing work for others and putting together an anthology for a writing group I facilitate.

If you could spend a day with another author, whom would you choose?

If he were alive I’d pick Alden Nowlan, whose work I greatly admire.

If you could invite any three people for dinner, whom would you invite?

I’d love to have dinner with many Saskatchewan poets! Robert Currie, Glen Sorestad, Dave Margoshes, Rita Bouvier, any of my poet friends!

Would you share something about yourself that your readers don’ t know (yet)?

I would like to give a reading in Ireland.

How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? Or has one stuck with you more than others?

I’ve written five full-length collections and a chapbook. My current book is always my favourite but the chapbook, The Book of Bill, written about my brother in law who had Down Syndrome is very close to my heart.

Other than your current WIP, do you have any unfinished books? Do you think you will ever finish them?

No unfinished books at the time!

What is the most inspiring feedback you've ever received from a reader?

A reader said ’You are truly gifted in seeing the snippets of beauty in all areas of humanity.’

How long does it take you to write a book?

I’m not a hugely prolific writer. I am often a few years between books.

How do you decide if a story will be standalone or part of a series?

I do enjoy writing sequences or suites of poems which allows me to look at something from various angles. Some poems are stand alone.

Do you aim for a set number of words/pages per day? Or, do you just write and let the story decide when you stop and take a break?

Sometimes I like to write sequences of poems when I have more to say on a certain subject and other times short lyric poems work best. It varies.

Can you share any upcoming projects or plans for future books?

I’m just in the process of writing new poems loosely based on the power of hope … so newborn, that I’m not yet sure of the direction these poems will eventually take.

If money was no issue, would you prefer a cozy beach bungalow or a rustic cabin overlooking a mountain lake?

A beach bungalow! I live half the year at our cabin on the lake!

One final question...Do you have a blog/website? If so, what is it? Do you have a social media platform where your fans can go to interact with you and follow your progress?

I am on Facebook and happy to hear from you!

https://skwriter.com/find-saskatchewan-writers/lynda-monahan https://www.facebook.com/p/Lynda -Monahan-100069626357913

Illustrated Idioms

Inspired story prompts by

Susan Faw

When I created my author website at the launch of my authorial career, I was lost as to what to blog about. It is a common problem for authors who are starting out. Most of us feel that no one wants to listen to us talk about or dogs or our families or look at pretty cat pictures. So instead of blogging about what people flock to every day, I decided to write short, quick stories that illustrated something that I had long been fascinated with, the odd words and phrases that make up English idiom.

I bought a copy of The American Heritage ® Dictionary of Idioms by Christine Ammer. With that primer in place, I was ready to bring to life the idioms that we so often use but rarely understand their sources.

Can you guess the idiom in the story?

An Unexpected Detour

Oliver shifted his heavy school bag from one shoulder to the other, the greasy leather strap sliding through his sweaty palm. The sound of raucous singing from the invaders’ encampment rolled over him, like a bawdy tavern wench’s entertainment while several pints to the good.

This, however, was not good.

He fervently wished he ’d waited for his elder brother, who had nearly finished milking when Oliver bolted out the door with the single-minded ambition to be first in line at school.

Once a year the magicians came to town, and this time he vowed to not be stuck at the back of the crowd, unable to see anything but the heads and shoulders of the older kids. His father had said they could go see the magicians as soon as their evening chores were complete. Oliver had wasted no time mucking out the stalls and tossing hay down to the horses.

Oliver stopped in the middle of the dusty road, gazing up toward where it disappeared over the hill. The singing had stopped abruptly. Nervous, he slid sideways off into the cooling shade of the woods lining the road, picking up the faint deer trail which angled away roughly in the direction of the school, hoping to skirt the soldiers’ camp. As he crept through the verdant undergrowth, a high -pitched metallic shriek assaulted his ears along with the clang of metal on metal.

The trail followed the meandering length of a burbling brook and twisted around several mossy boulders then spilled out into a meadow overflowing with grey tents. Hundreds of them dotted the field, the once tall grasses trampled and matted into a muddy mass, bordered on two sides by the brook and the other two sides by the forest behind his back.

Oliver jerked to a halt, nearly stumbling into that which he was trying to avoid. He shook his head at his stupidity. Of course, they were not camped across the road! Drunken men sang and swayed around.

Oliver scanned the camp, trying to decide which way to skirt the morass of men, when his eyes fell on the source of the grinding noise. Curious, he made his way through the tangled undergrowth towards the sound.

A soldier, stripped to the waist, was working a large round stone, spinning it with the pumping action of his foot. The grinding noise came from the sword he held in his meaty fists, drawing it slowly back and forth along the whetstone. Fascinated, Oliver watched the man work, stroking the stone first one way then the opposite way along the tip of the blade. Fine rivulets of sweat ran down his chest in the late afternoon sun, glistening off the flexing pectorals.

He looks like a god, Oliver thought, fascinated by the scene before him.

So absorbed was he in watching the man work, he failed to notice the soldier behind him until the beefy hand clamped down on his shoulder and a sword tip touched the side of his throat. Oliver froze, sucking in a panicked breath.

“So, what do we have here?” the man drawled, pulling him to his feet. “A local school boy, by the looks of you!” He gave Oliver a shove, sending him sprawling out into the open, keeping his sword trained on him.

The man at the stone stopped his work and straightened, his eyes taking in the scene. With a hand, he gestured for Oliver’s captor to bring him over. Beefy Hand hauled him to his feet, and, with another shove Oliver stumbled into motion, his legs quaking.

He was jerked to a halt in front of Sweaty Chest and trained his eyes at the ground, afraid to look up. “What’s your name, boy?” he grunted.

“Oliver, sir.”

“What were you doing in the woods?”

“I was on my way to school, sir?” he replied.

Sweaty Chest snorted a laugh with no humor in it. “School is already out, boy. Do you take us for fools? Speak up, and speak up now, before we decide you are a spy. ”

Oliver’s head came up, when he realized his mistake. “I’m sorry, sir! Yes, sir! You see, sir, a magician is coming to town. I mean he is in town already, and he is going to be giving a performance at school. ” He swallowed past his dry throat. “I mean he is giving a performance tonight at the school. ”

“So why are you spying on the camp?”

Oliver shook his head. “I wasn’t spying. I was curious as to what you were doing.” He hung his head again.

Sweaty Chest wiped the blade on an oiled cloth, wiping away the minute pieces of steel. He inspected it and then looked Oliver over.

“Come here,” he commanded.

Oliver stepped closer to the soldier.

“I want you to pump this pedal. When I say faster, you pump faster. When I say slower, you pump slower. If, at the end, I am satisfied with your effort, I will let you live. If not, I will test your lack of skill on your neck. Understood?”

Oliver nodded mutely.

“Then let’s begin.” Beefy Hands grinned as he watched Oliver scramble over to the pedal and begin to pump the platform.

Oliver kept his head down, afraid to look away from his task. As he worked, he heard the shuffling of feet and rough laughter over the new serving boy who the quartermaster (Sweaty Chest) had acquired. Other soldiers wandered over and seeing the activity, fetched weapons of their own to be sharpened: long and short swords, knives of every length, and even the cook’s tools made their way to the stone with its new and highly entertaining monkey working the pedals. The last weapon to arrive was a double-bladed axe, the likes of which Oliver had never seen before.

The sun dropped below the ridge of trees, and the blue skies faded and darkened through sunset to twilight and eventually to full dark. When there was no longer any light to see with, the master called a halt. At that moment, bells sounded, followed by a trumpet announcing the opening act of the magician’s show with a clear thrill that carried on the night air.

The master folded his arms and frowned down at Oliver.

“Well, what are you doing here, you slacker? Didn ’t you hear the school bell? Didn’t you hear the show has begun? Get going, you lazy brat! Get out of my sight! We have no used for layabout commoners such as you.” With a shove of his foot, he knocked Oliver over into the dirt.

Oliver scrambled away on all fours, afraid that the next time the boot swung at him it would be with more serious intent. He staggered to his feet and looked around. The laughing soldiers spat at him, but no one made a move to restrain him.

Oliver turned and ran for the woods as fast as his exhausted legs would carry him. He ran and ran, panting with exhaustion, until he stumbled onto an abandoned fishing hut set at a widening of the stream, upriver from the encampment. Falling to his knees at its edge, he gulped water then crawled into the fishing hut and was asleep before he hit the floor.

If you want to read more of Susan Faw’s Illustrated Idioms, the series is available here: https://bookgoodies.com/a/B074ZTK65V English Idiom: Axe to Grind –

A selfish aim or motive. This frequently used idiom comes from a story by Charles Miner, published in 1811 about a boy who was flattered into turning the grindstone for a man sharpening his axe. He worked hard until the school bell rang, whereupon the man, instead of thanking the boy, began to scold him for being late and told him to hurry to school. “Having an axe to grind” then came into figurative use for having a personal motive for some action (mid-1800s).

The American Heritage® Dictionary of Idioms by Christine Ammer. Copyright © 2003, 1997 by The Christine Ammer 1992 Trust. Published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved.

Book nerd and fantasy aficionado, Susan is an award-winning author who also doubles as masked crusader for the fantastical world. Championing mythical rights, she quells uprisings and battles infidels who would slay the lifeblood of her pen. It’s all in a day’s work, for this whirlwind writer.

Winner of the Dante Rossetti Grand Prize for Best Young Adult Fiction of 2016 (Seer of Souls, Chanticleer Reviews) she is actively crafting stories that sing in your memory. Welcome to the quest!

You can find Susan at www.susanfaw.com, on twitter @susandfaw or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/SusanFaw

Live like a Guide Dog: TrueStories from a BlindMan and His Dogs about Being Brave, Overcoming Adversity, andMovingForward in Faith

The newest book from 9/11 Survivor and New York Times Bestseller,

Michael Hingson

A guide dog’s guide to life’s most important lessons!

Michael Hingson’s inspiring true story captivated the world when he and his guide dog Roselle escaped the Twin Towers together on 9/11, a story that became the New York Times bestselling book Thunder Dog. During decades of walking with guide dogs, he had learned a surprising truth that helped save his life that day: Being afraid can be a positive thing, one that prepares us to deal with any situation that befalls us. Now, in Live like a Guide Dog, he reveals how to:

• Get equipped for whatever obstacles or challenges you may encounter as you make your way through the world

• Train yourself to be brave, just like a guide dog’s training equips handler and dog to prepare for the unexpected

• Learn to use your natural fear reactions as a way to focus and concentrate to make better decisions and turn your fear into courage and confidence.

• Apply eleven principles Michael has learned with his guide dogs to overcome the fears that you face every day

Join Michael on the joyful adventure of walking with, loving, and learning from guide dogs!

https://michaelhingson.com/live-like-a-guide-dog/

Michael Hingson wrote the runaway bestseller, Thunder Dog: The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog, and the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero. He lives on the water in Novato, California with his wife, Karen, his guide dog, Africa, and Africa's mother Fantasia. When he isn't traveling the world with Africa speaking and teaching, he enjoys playing with his dogs, cooking, and helping Karen with her quilting business. Mike's favorite things include Harry Potter books, nachos with cheese only, talking with people on his ham radio set, and listening to vintage radio shows. Visit Mike's website: michaelhingson.com.

Award winning author:

Interviewed by Melanie P. Smith

Dennis Higgins is a distant relative of Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier. He has traveled the world over, collecting story ideas. As a native of Chicago, Illinois, Dennis Higgins has a passion for things that are gone but not forgotten, a romance with the past. For him, time -travel is the answer. If not for real, then in the pages of his books.

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

Thanks for having me. I was born and raised in Chicago. That culture is deeply set in me, even though I now live in the suburbs with my wife and little Llosa-Poo dog. I have been writing seriously since 2009. Even when I worked a day job, I would rise at 3:30 AM and write before leaving for my work commute. These days I sleep in until 4:00 AM. (laughing)

https://www.timepilgrims.com

What comes first — the plot or the characters?

Both sort of spring up together. I’m not one to outline my stories; I write and the story and characters spring to life on the page and become real to me.

How or where do you find the plots you write about?

I’m sure I have had undiagnosed ADHD (without the H) all my life. In school, they called me a daydreamer. I think my stories often come from my daydreams and fantasies.

What makes your book stand out from the crowd?

You’re going to make me toot my own horn, which I’m not comfortable doing. But since you asked… I’ve been told my books are different, easy to read, and realistic. I’ve been told by readers how they had never read a time travel story like mine before. I love my readers. They get me.

Mark Twain said “Write what you know.” Tell us about your writing process. Are you a plotter or a planner? Do you plot, plan, and conduct hours of research; or, do you just sit down and write whatever comes to mind based on your personal history and knowledge?

This was mostly answered above. I don’t plot, outline, or plan, but I do perform extensive research so that my time travel is accurate. However, there are times I don’t need to. Like I just know as if I’d been there before.

What’s your favorite and least favorite part of publishing?

I believe most writers will answer this the same way. The writing is my favorite. While the promotions are the hardest part. That ’s why I hired Crystal at C&J Promotions and Marketing Agency.

Would you and your main character get along?

Which one? (laughing) I am about to publish my eighteenth book. Usually, in romance, there are two main characters and I find I write well in the female's POV. I think my female characters often have more of myself in them, rather than my males. I’m not sure why.

Can you share a sample of your current work with us?

Just so you know, this is an unedited first draft, sample: September 2, 1943

With their success in the Battle of Sicily, the Allies joined forces to invade mainland Italy. Some would go in through the North at Salerno and some would make the short hop from Sicily to the boot. This was where Robert and Albert ’s 7th Army division would enter. They thought it would be heavily guarded by German and Italian forces. However, with the deportation of Mussolini, there was unrest between the Italians who wanted to make peace and the Germans left fighting in a hostile country. Entry into the mainland was surprisingly simple. However, once there, it didn’t mean the battles were any less gruesome.

Fighting was made further difficult because of how the Germans tore up the streets and destroyed bridges. So, moving through the Italian toe was slow going as they had to wait for the engineers to clear the debris. They also had to deal with friendly bombs coming from allied forces.

As they moved across the boot to meet up with the 17th Army division at Taranto, Robert looked up to see German bombers begin to drop their payloads.

“Al, take cover.”

“Where’s the Sarge, Rob?”

“I don’t know, we got separated. Come on.”

“They took cover in a drainage ditch with bombs dropping all around them. ”

“I’m scared, Rob. I know as soon as the bombing stops German ground forces will surround us. ”

“That’s always been their strategy. Don’t be afraid, Al. Let’s take it one step at a time. We need a better hiding place. Keep your head down. ”

When the bombing stopped, Robert looked up from the ravine and a large troop of Nazis under Hermann Göring Parachute Panzer Division covered the area on foot.

“Stay low, they’re almost here.”

“Dear God, Rob. We’re either going to be shot on sight or captured. I’ve heard bad things about German concentration camps. Please, dear Lord, don’t let it end this way. In Jesus’s name, I pray.”

“Amen,” Robert said. “We’re in His hands now, buddy. If they see you, put your hands up, otherwise, stay low.”

Robert couldn’t explain why, but at least thirty Nazis walked right past and not one of them noticed them lying in that open ditch. At one point, Robert could see two ghostly figures standing between them and the German army.

When they all marched past, Albert looked up. “What happened?”

Robert was dazed and couldn’t speak for a moment.

“Rob, what just happened?”

“I think our angels protected us. The Krauts walked right by without seeing us. Al, I think I saw angels.”

“You saw angels?”

“I did. They were beautiful. Two beautiful angels protected us, Buddy. ”

“Hot diggity dog,” Albert yelled. “I knew they were real.

If you could spend a day with another author, whom would you choose?

This answer would change depending on what I’m currently doing myself. So, at this moment, it would be Martha Williamson as mentioned above. Ms. Williamson is not a book author, but her TV writing is amazing. She has a way of going right for your heart.

If you could invite any three people for dinner, whom would you invite?

Well, it certainly would not be Chef Gordon Ramsey; I’ll tell you that even though I do consider myself a good cook. (laughing) I first thought of Paul McCartney because I greatly admire him and his work. The second might be Bishop Robert Barron because I think he has amazing thoughts and ways of looking at things. He originated from Chicago and is about my age, so I believe he would be easy to connect with. The third again might be Martha Williamson. She is also my age and faith, and I would love to tap into her knowledge.

How long does it take you to write a book?

About one year, give or take.

That’s when it hit me from above. Campioni might be her last name. That’s all I needed. One tiny little clue. Ancestry found a Betty Campioni living in Chicago in the 1940s and beyond. I felt like a private investigator with help from Bet. I found her obituary and what her married name was. That sent me to Facebook where I found the wife of Betty’s son. Through him, I met his sister who was very close to her mom. They had heard she had been engaged before and he had died in the war, but the son told me they never really believed her story because she married their father at such a young age. I showed them all the photos from the scrapbook and told them I was going to write a book about it. I said it would be a fictional story based on her real story. When I finished, the daughter told me I had captured her mom perfectly. To this day she re -reads it to feel closer to her. That didn’t come from me, that came from Betty, I’m convinced. She was only 16 when she made that scrapbook, but girls looked older back then and she was so mature. Later in her life, she ended up converting to Catholicism and spent her entire life caring for mentally challenged children. She really was the amazing person I knew she was from the scrapbook. My subsequent book, The Old Scrapbook was a labor of love for me. I got to know and love Betty Campioni through the scrapbook and beyond.

How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? Or has one stuck with you more than others?

Technically I am writing my twentieth book. It’s hard to pick a favorite. There are some I like less, but Parallel Roads (Lost on Route 66) is first, so it’s like my baby. That followed right into my Time Pilgrims Trilogy. Pennies From Across the Veil is certainly one I love, as well as a fan favorite. But a newer title is being well received and I felt this one strongly. It’s called, The Nurses. I also felt like I channeled one or all of the real victims of a tragic crime that happened back in 1966. However, the one that will be published by the time this article goes live is sure to be everyone’s favorite, that is if you like romance because this one is pure, desperate time travel romance, set at Christmas time. It’s called, When Stars Align. You did it again, made me toot my own horn.

Do you aim for a set number of words/pages per day? Or, do you just write and let the story decide when you stop and take a break?

I have no set numbers. I try to shoot for 2000 to 3000 words per chapter but it could take a week to finish one. It’s the same with the final word count. The story ends when it ends, and often I have no control over it.

Other than your current WIP, do you have any unfinished books? Do you think you will ever finish them?

No. I know some authors do, but I never start a new book until my WIP is finished.

How do you decide if a story will be standalone or part of a series?

Other than my Time Pilgrim series, I always write my books as standalone. Although, I have left books open for sequels in case my fans demand it, or I just get inspired. This happened with Steampunk Alice. I decided to do a sequel that I called, The Adventures of Black Lace about Alice’s sister, Lacey. Both books were based on Alice in Wonderland.

Can you share any upcoming projects or plans for future books?

For me, it’s one project at a time. Right now it’s my angel books. But I know this, I’ll always be writing.

If money was no issue, would you prefer a cozy beach bungalow or a rustic cabin overlooking a mountain lake?

I’m glad you said a mountain lake. I am a mountain person. I don’t live anywhere near one, but they speak to me. My wife, Trina is a water person. So, a mountain lake in a rustic cabin would be perfection. I actually once stayed in a cabin like this in the Alps. The view from my window was the Matterhorn.

Are you a cat person or a dog person?

I love all animals. I’ve had both cats and dogs. When I married Trina she brought her old cat with her. Junior was the mellowest cat I had ever met. He lived to be 24. I was allergic to him all the years he was alive. Along with Junior, we always had dogs and still have our Llosa-poo, Dom, short for Dom Perignon (We didn’t name him).

One final question...Do you have a blog/website? If so, what is it? Do you have a social media platform where your fans can go to interact with you and follow your progress?

I do have all the above. My website: https://www.timepilgrims.com/ is not up to date, but not too far behind.

My blog: https:// www.timepilgrims.com/blog is active but not added to. It’s used as a reference to time travel books and movies.

My Facebook author page is https:// www.facebook.com/profile.php? id=100029706711618 but I do most of my activities on my regular page: https://www.facebook.com/ dennis.higgins.79/

I’m also on Instagram. It’s easy to search for me there. @dennis.higgins

Thank you, so much for having me.

by Dennis Higgins

Previously published in the book, Goes to Eleven

My house had been abandoned for a great amount of time. Time had no meaning here. I am the sole occupant, but I’m not sure I really counted. You see I died here some time ago. I was a young man. My name is… or should I say was James Duncan? Can deceased people with consciousness still have a name? I don’t know the rules. I can’t even calculate the passing of time. All I know is, when I lived, men wore hats and suits. The last tenants wore dungarees. Both the men and the women. They listened to the strangest music with song lyrics about breaking through to the other side and Zodiac signs, Aquarius and the likes. All I could do was observe.

Now I have no idea what the people are like. I am restricted to the confines of my home. I can see out my bedroom window to the road, but it wasn ’t close enough to my old Victorian home to see anything clearly. The horseless buggies had also changed over time.

Then one day some people moved in. I thought it was an entire family, but when the furniture was in place, and the social gatherings came to an end, it was just one. She was young and pretty. Like my last inhabitants, she also wore dungarees at times. But not when she dressed to leave the house. I assumed she belonged to the working class. Her companions called her Bethany.

I try not to haunt my guests. Nor do I watch them as they engage in private matters, such as bathing and dressing. But other times I do enjoy her company and looking at her lovely face. My goodness, she was pretty. I found I grew quite fond of this one.

An unidentified amount of time passed. On one of her dungaree days, I discovered Bethany rummaging around in my attic. She found a box I had hidden away behind some wooden planks. No one else had ever found it.

This living girl was somehow more perceptive. In the box, she found my old pocket watch and a token from the world’s fair. It was a keepsake reminding me of my fiancée. I don ’t know why I kept it. My heart was torn in two when she broke it off, It was due to her father believing I wasn’t respectable enough to marry his daughter. I would have been a wonderful husband. The box contained other odds and ends from my young life, such as a letter I kept addressed to me from this same woman. But at the bottom of my box, Bethany discovered a photograph of me looking dapper in my Sunday best. It was nice to see my image again. The mirrors in my home reflect nary an image of myself.

At one point, I saw the object of my affection sitting on her bed and studying my letter and photograph. I do believe she approved of my image. As I got closer to her, she suddenly looked around the room.

“James? Is that you?”

I was shocked. She could sense my presence. No one had ever accomplished that before. But this one did. How could I let her know it was true? I placed my hand in the space where hers was. She flinched and made a fist. Then she turned her palm upwards as if to receive mine. I wished I could actually feel her, but we did seem to feel each other. Not in the flesh, but in the spirit. It was incredible.

As time passed, Bethany could ascertain when I was not present and when I was. I ’m sure this gave her a sense of privacy. And I respected that discretion. I was a gentleman in life, and I remained one in death. She had absolutely no fear of me. But I had one fear. I knew she would grow older and leave as all the others had. I missed them in my own way, but I knew to lose Bethany would be like a second death to me.

Every night Bethany would say her prayers and then talk to me. She told me her whole life’s story. In minuscule ways, she could hear me too. For instance, if she asked me a simple question which required an affirmative or contrary answer, I would utter it, and my answer would come through to her. If something made me laugh, she knew it. If something made me angry, she would apologize. She could also sense my sadness, and the most comforting words would come forth from her whisper. She was amazing, and I do believe I was falling in love with her. I didn’t even realize a phantasm like myself could fall in love.

One night she brought a man home. I know I should have given her the usual privacy, but I felt another emotion well up within me…jealousy. I watched them cook together, share much jubilant laughter while enjoying the fruits of their labor. I could see in his eyes that he liked her. For her part, she was cautious, but there was also interest in her eyes. They sat on the davenport together and shared glasses of wine. At one point she looked directly in my direction and scowled at me. She knew I was watching and she wasn’t delighted by the fact. She kissed him, and I could swear she did it just to spite me. I couldn’t take it any longer, so I retreated through the wall and into another room.

I sat in my old study, feeling quite sad. Yet, logic dictated that there were physical attributes I could never share with my precious Bethany.

She may feel the spirit of my kiss, but I cannot let her feel my lips of flesh. I no longer possessed them. This was the source of my consternation.

But then I heard scuffling sounds and heard her yell out the word, ‘NO!’ I flew back in and saw the man in an aggressive altercation with my love. He was physically trying to grope her against her will. I would not stand for this. But what could I do? I rushed at him and tried to give him a solid blow on his chin, but naturally, my hand passed right through. Bethany called out my name and asked for help.

I concentrated my angry energy on to him, and suddenly things in the sitting room began to move as if in a wind gust. I saw their hair waving, and photo frames fall to the floor. The man looked around the room startled.

“What the hell is going on here?” he uttered as he stood and backed away. “You must be some sort of witch. I’m out of here.”

“Good!” she exclaimed. “And don’t ever come back or call me.”

When he left, she slammed the door behind him and locked it. She turned towards the sitting room.

“Thank you, James. I’m sorry.”

She then ran into her bedroom and threw herself across the bed, crying uncontrollably. I tried to comfort her but to no avail. I started to leave, but she called me back. She said she wanted to be near me and wished we could be together. She spoke of the sardonic fact that she was in love with a ghost of whom she could never be with. That the loveliest person she had ever known was dead.

She talked and cried long into the night until slumber overtook her body. The last words she uttered were to tell me that the living were jerks. A strange term to me. I ’m assuming she meant simpletons or jackasses. I brushed where her cheek was with my untouching hand. Oh, how I longed to touch her in the flesh.

I assume years went by. Men came and went from Bethany ’s life. But she never married, and she remained my friend throughout the years. Some nights she would talk to me in length. On other nights she would simply say goodnight to me after her nightly prayers. The truth is, I loved her. A love that went to the depths of my non -beating heart. But emotions and love do not die. I guess they exist in what we refer to as the soul.

That’s why it was difficult to watch my Bethany get sick. And that illness progressed over an undetermined amount of time. I detested seeing her languishing. I had to help her somehow. I made attempts to transfer whatever force of existence I had into her. But that proved to be in vain. One night she communicated to me she had come from the doctor

and was told she was dying. She said she wanted to die at home, so she could be with me forever. That thought had never occurred to me. She was going to be a spirit along with me. I felt elated. I had never interacted with another spirit before. Now I hoped her death would come soon because I suffered to watch her in her own suffering and I longed to be with her in my realm of existence.

Finally, I watched as I believe the end came near. Her friends gathered by her bedside and a stranger I presumed was a nurse of some sort. Bethany could no longer communicate to the living. But she saw me. I could see the recognition in her eyes. I came closer and beckoned her to come hither. She smiled, and I watched as she left her earthly body and floated above. She smiled at me and then she was gone. Oh my God, she was gone! I had to endure the mourning that the living around her were experiencing. Where did she go? Why did she go? I wept without the use of tear ducts, only from the depth of my being.

My existence went back to what it was before Bethany came into my life. I have no idea for how long I wandered my empty home. A house as void and my own countenance. I longed to be able to calculate the passing of time. How long did I spend knowing and loving Bethany? How long had I now been missing her? I was miserable, roaming from wall to wall and hall to hall. I’m sure my wailing could be heard by all those who at some point entered the house. But when void of the living, I felt nothing but crippling loneliness. Why do I exist in my nonexistence?

But then as I did my nightly haunt, there suddenly was Bethany. She appeared so happy to see me. I had never heard a spirit speak before. It made no sound, like that of the living pushing air out in waves. But I could understand her. She indicated that she had just arrived and wondered where all her living friends were. I had to explain it to her. But she knew something I wasn’t made aware of. She grabbed my hand and beckoned me to go with her… to move on. To go to a better place. Why did I not know this? Why did Bethany believe she had just passed when I sat for ions alone? Time had no meaning here.

Eleven short stories for the eleventh release of Author Dennis Higgins. Wonderfully crafted stories, which include: Time Travel, Paranormal Romance, Ghost/Horror Stories, Historical and True Stories.

Experiences include a time-traveling room, Chicago Gangsters, a famous rock star that never was, an actual angel encounter, email romance across time, spine-tingling horror, a ghost story from the phantasm’s point of view…and more. Your amazement is guaranteed.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B081H82Y8S

What is young adult fiction?

Young adult fiction, abbreviated as YA, is fiction aimed at a reading audience aged between thirteen and eighteen years old.

YA fiction is intended to bridge the gap between middle-grade fiction and adult fiction. It is more emotionally and thematically advanced than middle-grade fiction.

Characteristics of young adult fiction?

1. The characters are young adults in the same age group as the target audience;

2. The language and writing style are designed to be relatable to the target audience;

3. Common themes explored in YA novels are personal identity, self-discovery, and the transition to adulthood. Friendship, substance abuse, alcoholism, and sexuality are frequent subthemes;

4. YA novels often present dilemmas relating to the themes and sub-themes that face young adults; and

5. YA novels are generally fast paced, emotional, and end on an optimistic note.

A list of fantastic YA books

♦ I have read all of the following YA books and recommend them highly:

♦ The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

♦ The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

♦ The Lightening Thief by Rick Riordan

♦ The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

♦ The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot

♦ Holes by Louis Sachar

♦ The Giver by Lois Lowry

♦ Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. By Judy Blume

♦ A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin

♦ To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

♦ Lord of the Flies by William Golding

♦ The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

♦ Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

♦ Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery

♦ Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

A few excellent quotes from YA books

“His voice rose under the black smoke before the burning wreckage of the island; and infected by that emotion, the other little boys began to shake and sob too. And in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of mans heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.”

William Golding, Lord of the Flies

“It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”

Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

I have written a YA novel, Through the Nethergate. It is intended to make young people think about technology, politics, extremism, and the potential threats they pose to peace and cohesiveness in our world. Of course, things have deteriorated significantly in the world since I published this book in 2018, so its messages still ring frighteningly true.

Robbie Cheadle is a South African children’s author and poet with 9 children’s books and 2 poetry books. She has also published 2 books for older children which incorporate recipes that are relevant to the storylines. Robbie has 2 adult novels in the paranormal historical and supernatural fantasy genres published under the name Roberta Eaton Cheadle. She also has short stories in the horror and paranormal genre and poems included in several anthologies.

Connect with Robbie https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com

Tricia Copeland

To Be a Fae Rogue Realm Chronicles Book 4

Unknown to most fae, their biggest threat lies beneath them, watching, waiting perhaps, but for what? Or whom?

Queen Titania gave up everything, her kingdom, her family, her friends, and her home, to end Sonia. Alas, Sonia’s soul lives and grows more powerful, threatening annihilation of the human realm.

Titania’s supposed death may be the only thing deterring Sonia from unleashing her wrath on the Fae Realm as well, but Titania has a sworn duty to protect the humans. Does she dare risking detection by aiding the witches in stopping Sonia from unleashing Hell on Earth?

All Titania has left is the one fae who’s pledged his love for her. Can she risk losing him, too?

To Be a Fae Rogue, the fourth book of the Realm Chronicles series, is an adventure in discovering whether the disparate beings of the human realm can set aside their differences to stop impending doom.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0DC27FBGX

Tricia Copeland believes in finding magic. She thinks magic infuses every aspect of our lives, whether it is the magic of falling in love, discovering a new passion, a beautiful sunset, or a book that transports us to another world. An avid runner and Georgia native, Tricia now lives with her family and four-legged friends in Colorado. Find all her titles from contemporary romance, fantasy, to dystopian fiction at www.triciacopeland.com.

Can you tell us a little about yourselves?

Judy and I met during my Neurology residency at University of Michigan and she was working as a social worker. We came down to the Hampton Roads, Virginia area, impressed by the climate, friendly people and location near the Chesapeake Bay and the ocean. We ’ve been her since 1982, and are the parents of two grown sons. Judy is retired and a full-time author.

https://www.judysnider.com/ https://www.gilsnider.com/

Are you a multi-genre or single-genre author?

Judy loves to write suspense novellas, with strong women protagonists, and has also written two award-winning children’s books. Gil writes medical suspense novels, and likes to overlap with other genres. His first book is a medical/political suspense, and his second is medical/religious suspense … think Dan Brown.

Judy has been a grade -school library assistant, and loved to read to children. She has used her experience to write picture books that children would love, but also appeal to adults. However, she really loves suspense and finds writing suspense fun and interesting.

Gil’s background in medicine, and specifically Neurology, has strongly influenced his writing, but rather than just writing what he knows, he loves to write about topics that he ’d like to learn, which makes the writing process more fulfilling.

How long have you been writing? Did an event or person prompt you to take that leap?

Judy has been writing for years, but was encouraged to start writing suspense by her friend, Marsha Casper Cook.

Gil started writing in the mid -1990s, encouraged by Judy to write his first book, Brain Warp.

What comes first—the plot or the characters?

For Judy, she pictures it as she would a movie, with the suspense first and the characters fit in as the book develops.

Gil also develops the plot first, but has found that the characters, their backgrounds and personalities become integral to the plot itself. I don ’t think I could change my characters and still keep the same plot lines. I also like to write about strong female characters, especially in The Last.

How or where do you find the plots you write about?

Judy gets her plots from real life. Something will happen to her, or she will see something, and think “that would make a good suspense story”. Betrayed was triggered by an erroneous reading on one of her routine mammograms that opened up a frightening scenario. All ended well, but she used the experience to write a suspense.

Gil’s first book, Brain Warp, needed a European country with an unstable government, nuclear weapons, and an ethnic community in New York City. Ukraine (at the time) fit the bill perfectly. The fact that Gil’s father was Ukrainian made the book even more personal. For The Last, he heard an article on NPR about communities in the Middle East that only spoke ancient Aramaic and were isolated from the surrounding society. His first thought was “that’s 2000 years of intermarriage!” and what could be the genetic consequences, and he transferred that to the United States.

What makes your book stand out from the crowd?

Betrayed is a book that we both worked on together. Judy got the woman ’s angle down, and Gil finetuned the medical aspects. It’s a short, fun read that keeps you wanting to turn the pages and keep reading more.

Mark Twain said “Write what you know.” Tell us about your writing process. Are you a plotter or a pantser? Do you plot, plan, and conduct hours of research; or, do you just sit down and write whatever comes to mind based on your personal history and knowledge?

Judy is definitely a “pantser”. When she sits down to write, it’s almost as if someone is sitting next to her and whispering in her ear what’s next… very much “go with the flow”.

Gil is more of a researcher. For Brain Warp, he researched the street geography of Kiev, Ukrainian history and its constitution, and took a trip to New York City to make sure he got the locations accurate. For The Last, he researched first and second century Christian history, which still fascinates him.

What’ s your favorite and least favorite part of publishing?

Judy hates the editing process, but she loves interacting with Karen Fuller, our publisher at World Castle. She likes marketing.

Gil’s least favorite part is shopping his book around. He also loves dealing with Karen, but enjoys the editing process. You learn so much from those who help tighten up your writing, in Gil ’s case Anne McAneny in Richmond, VA.

Have you ever killed off a character your readers loved?

Not for Judy- she tends to kill off the villains. Gil also kills off the villains, but Brain Warp ends with a good couple that is killed off or are they?

If you could spend a day with another author, whom would you choose?

No one answer. Too many authors.

Would you and your favorite character get along?

Judy definitely would. Gil would definitely get along with his main characters they’re doctors.

What is the most valuable piece of advice you’ve been given about writing?

Have fun! And don’t use too many exclamation points!

Whom do you trust for objective and constructive criticism of your work?

Karen Fuller and Anne McAneny.

What are your current projects?

Judy is submitting some of her children’s manuscripts and working on a new suspense trilogy. Gil is working on a sequel to Betrayed.

Can you share a sample of your current work with us?

We would be delighted if people would go to www.judysnider.com and www.gilsnider.com and read sample chapters from our books.

If you could invite any three people for dinner, whom would you invite?

Can’t answer that one. Living or dead?

What is the most inspiring feedback you’ve ever received from a reader?

From Judy, she loves to hear people read her books in one sitting. She still remembers one little girl that still has Judy’s first children’s book, Goldy’ s Baby Socks, and it’s still her favorite children’s book 10 years later.

I’ve been inspired by some of the reviews on Amazon.

How long does it take you to write a book?

Judy can finish a book in 4-5 months.

Gil’s first book took one year, including research. The Last, his second, took much longer… several years.

Do you aim for a set number of words/pages per day? Or, do you just write and let the story decide when you stop and take a break?

We both go with the flow.

Would you share something about yourself that your readers don’ t know (yet)?

We have both written lyrics for songs that have been produced by Pearl Snap Studio. These are listed on our websites.

If money was no issue, would you prefer a cozy beach bungalow or a rustic cabin overlooking a mountain lake?

Since we already live in Virginia Beach, we ’ll definitely take the rustic cabin.

Are you a cat person or a dog person?

We’re definitely cat people, and currently have a 20 -yearold Torty named Bailey. Judy is a member of the Cat Writer’s Association and tries to fit a cat into her books. However, we both love dogs and have had them as pets in the past.

Do you have a blog/website?

Our websites are www.judysnider.com and www.gilsnider.com where you can find our books, songs that we have written, awards and honors, etc. We are on Facebook and Instagram as judysnider_author and gilsnider_author.

Fran Lewis

Mirror

Image

Riveting, pulse-pounding, and thoroughly readable, Mirror Image would make a great Netflix series!” — Vincent Zandri, award-winning author of The Remains, The Shroud Key and the Dick Moonlight PI series.

The mystical mirror has seen many faces, some innocent and some deserving of punishment. This is the mirror of truth, and it punishes evildoers severely.

As the book unfolds, each person you meet has is given a chance to repent or suffer the mirror’s unique form of hideous justice. Be careful doing wrong, because the mirror waits for you...

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0CQ5M9M4T

Fran Lewis: Fran worked in the NYC Public Schools as the Reading and Writing Staff Developer for over 36 years. She has three master’s degrees and a PD in Supervision and Administration. Currently, she is a member of Who's Who of America's Teachers and Who's Who of America's Executives from Cambridge.

In addition, she is the author of three children's books and a fourth that has just been published on Alzheimer's disease in order to honor her mom and help create more awareness for a cure.

She was the musical director for shows in her school and ran the school's newspaper. Fran writes reviews for authors upon request and for several other site. Here is the link to her radio show www.blogtalkradio.com, Her network if MJ network on Blog Talk Radio. You can also find her reviews on just reviews on WordPress. Mj network on blog talk radio is her network. She interviews seasoned authors, plus law enforcement officers, doctors and more. She has been a reviewer for major publishing companies and her review site is Just Reviews on Wordpress.

https://www.blogtalkradio.com/book-talk-withfran-lewis

“If you fell down yesterday, stand up today.”

– H.G. Wells

The web is a wonderful tool. There’s instant access to a wealth of knowledge on any topic - including Self-Publishing. Here are a few examples to help authors along the way.

How to Choose a Pen Name in 2024

Authors use pen names for many reasons, whether it be for branding purposes or just for privacy. Regardless of why one chooses to use a pseudonym, figuring out how to come up with a pen name can play an important part in your book’s marketing.

https://kindlepreneur.com/how-to-choose-a-pen-name/

Amazon Book Keyword Rules Explained

In 2024, Amazon silently updated their rules for book keywords, adding three new ones. If you’re an author, understanding these changes is crucial to optimizing your keywords and avoiding potential issues. This article will break down the new rules and provide you with actionable advice on how to use your keywords effectively.

https://kindlepreneur.com/amazon-book-keyword-rules

Book Marketing 101: Building an Author Platform

You may have heard that it’s valuable to have a strong author platform but what exactly does that mean, and why is it important? In this post, we’ll explain the concept of an author platform, why it’s a useful signal for agents and publishers, how it helps drive book sales, and how authors can strengthen their own platform, whether they’ve been writing for decades or just finished their first book.

https://insights.bookbub.com/building-author-platform

Writing Emotion in Your Book

Why is writing emotion so important in our books, whatever the genre? How can we create an emotional connection between our readers and our characters? Roz Morris gives her tips in this episode.

https://www.thecreativepenn.com/2024/07/22/writing-emotion-with-roz-morris