July-Sept 2014 The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine Issue#73

The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine®™ A helpful literary publication where we take care to bring you short stories, poems, haikus, and essays for your reading pleasure! Plus helpful and informative articles of all kinds, and a section that’ll show you where you can purchase authors’ books or subscribe to literary magazines and journals! ™ 1 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73 FOUNDER & PUBLISHER: Author Rosanne Catalano, aka RC Kayla

7/1/14

© JULY-SEPT 2014 ISSUE # 73, VOL. 14

NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER: Welcome to the July issue! Just like the winter and spring we had, my summer has been crazy busy being a nursemaid to my husband while he is on a medical leave and was in the hospital for a time after suffering a mini-stroke. The reason for the medical leave in the first place? My husband was feeling extremely fatigued and would sleep when not working and wasn’t eating because he had no appetite.

Turns out that while in the hospital, they found out that hubby had a peptic ulcer which almost killed him. He had lost 80 pounds within a year. While in the hospital, however, because of the medicine they were giving him for the stroke and his ulcer, his appetite came back and he began eating all three meals a day. Which he continued once out of the hospital. He got out of the hospital May 8 th and returned to work June 30 th. Thank y’all for the prayers for my hubby – God heard your prayers and the hubster is on his way to a full recovery.

As promised in the April 2014 magazine, here is a photo of our new fur baby Sasha. She has a lot of the same characteristics as our beloved Nikko, only she is a female Toy Poodle whereas Nikko was a male Shih Tzu mix. Since this photo was taken, Sasha has already gotten her set of vaccinations and 1st grooming. More pictures to come of our new fur baby after she’s been groomed…

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In this month’s magazine, you will find delightfully inspiring fiction and nonfiction short stories, extremely helpful articles, plus pleasingly gratifying and deeply emotional poetry by my contributors, and lots of new book authors and literary journals in the ‘Off The Press! Corner’:

Coffee House 4 Readers Corner Contributors:

1) SANDRA L HOYNACKI: And So, the Rains Came 2) JOSEPH J MAZZELLA: Putting on My Glasses and The Best Meal I’ve Ever Had 3) CRAIG SHOLL: The Wrestling Match 4) KJ HANNAH GREENBERG: Matilda’s Morning 5) ANTHONY GREEN: Covergirl

Helpful Nonfiction Articles for You! Contributors:

6) C HOPE CLARK: Indie Attitude 7) SAM VAKNIN: The Pears Cyclopedia 2013-14 Edition and The Narcissist’s Conflicted Relationship with His Fans, Followers and Admirers

Coffee House 4 the Poetry Lover! Contributors: 8) DEBORAH ANNE SHEPARD: Twilight Love

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9) THOMAS BRYANT: Hopeless 10) REHAN QAYOOM: Moon, Duty, Revelation and To A Friend

Off The Press! Corner Contributors:

11) Poet & Writer DARREN B. RANKINS (aka POET RANKINS) 12) Author & Poet MELISSA LORRAINE GULICK (aka MJ RAIN) 13) Author THOMAS BRYANT 14) Author NANETTE M. BUCHANAN 15) Author & Artist ROSE ANNA SCHOENE 16) Author & Poet SANDRA L HOYNACKI 17) Author ROSALEE WILSON 18) Author, Publisher & Columnist CAROL ROACH 19) Author, Poet & Talk Show Host TRISHA MARTIN 20) Author, Editor & Writing Instructor BARBARA DEMING 21) Author FRANCES ACESTA-SCANDARITO 22)Author & Publisher ROSANNE CATALANO (aka RC KAYLA).

Call(s) for Submissions: BROKEN Bars Publishing is an author service and publishing company aimed at helping writers become authors, by taking ideas from paper to print. Their passion is to reach out to writers who don't have normal access to resources, and/or are trying to tap into their passion to change their lives. If you or someone you know is a writer and has ever been counted out, contact Mr. Ronnie C. Dawson (see below for more info). He will work with you to take you from being counted out, to having a word count. Go to: http://brokenbarspublishing.webs.com/about-us to start your publishing journey! Mr. Ronnie C. Dawson, author of ‘Irreconcilable Differences till death do us part’ (a novel I am currently reading), is the CEO and Founder of Broken Bars Publishing.

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***** Submit your best writing to Joseph Ross of Rosstrum Publishing (an Independent Micro-Publisher), who is looking for authors that would also want quality editing.

If interested, contact Mr. Joseph Ross at: 1) rosstrumblog@wordpress.com; 2) Rosstrumpublishing@gmail.com. Before you contact Mr. Ross, however, check out their website to familiarize yourself with what type of material Rosstrum Publishing publishes: http://www.rosstrumpublishing.com/index.html ***** As you may remember from my announcement in previous issues, Storytime Tapestry Ezine – published by author & columnist Carol Roach – is our sister publication. It got its very own website last year for its 10 Year Anniversary: http://www.StorytimeTapestryEzine.com Storytime Tapestry was launched on Sept 1, 2003 by Author, Columnist & Writer Carol Roach. It is a daily email ezine that features short stories and poems about the human condition. These stories will inspire you, teach you a new skill, challenge your senses, provide a positive attitude on life, make you laugh, make you cry, and first and foremost provide a cultural link with all the peoples of the world creating a tapestry of love for all of humanity.

Don’t forget to join:

http://www.StorytimeTapestryEzine.com If you are a writer, submit your best work to publisher Carol Roach at winterose@videotron.ca ================================================== Now I am giving the floor over to my other Contributors, who have more news to share with you before you actually 5 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

start reading the short stories, articles, poetry, authors’ books and literary publications. But don’t worry – it’s only good news!

***** “Hi Rosanne, please tell your readers about my newest announcement regarding my book, ‘Elder Rage’: I recently recorded my book, ‘Elder Rage’, a Book-of-theMonth Club selection receiving 50 endorsements: http://www.ElderRage.com/Review.asp, 300+ Five-Star Amazon reviews, is required reading at numerous universities, and also being considered for a film. It is now available for audio download exclusively at Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/74479pq and Audible Books: http://tinyurl.com/7seo4fm. Also available in Print and Kindle/Nook eBook formats. Perhaps you know people who could be helped by it. http://www.ElderRage.com Jacqueline Marcell Author, Radio Host & International Speaker 'Elder Rage,’ or ‘Take My Father ... Please!’

How to Survive Caring for Aging Parents' Book-of-the-Month Club Selection Coping with Caregiving Radio Show

Impressive Press 3141 Michelson Dr. #606 6 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Irvine, CA 92612 (949) 975-1012

“Splash of Inspiration” Published by JANET PEREZ ECKLES Author & Inspirational Speaker

JANET’S DAILY NEWSLETTER BRINGS YOU FAITH & LOVE WITH A LATIN FLAIR! To subscribe to her newsletter just send a blank email to: jeckles@cfl.rr.com Write “Subscribe” in your subject line and mention that the publisher of The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine referred you. Janet will immediately send you her latest issue right in your inbox. Enjoy her inspiring newsletter.

****** More Good News from my Contributors…

CAROL ROACH AUTHOR, PUBLISHER & COLUMNIST: “Rosanne, please tell your readers about my three wonderful columns at examiner.com. The articles are well researched and, as you know, my field is psychology – I have a Masters in counselling psychology. The articles are also great for Storytime Tapestry members who do not want to wait for when the story is 7 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

finally published, sometimes several months later.�

First column Women's Issues - covers all issues relating to women's lives, from the fight for women's rights which started over 100 years ago in Alberta, Canada, to all the great women's achievements in the USA, the feminist movement, women's legal, health, family issues and more, later on I will incorporate eastern women's issues as well. http://www.examiner.com/x-47386-MontrealWomens-Issues-Examiner

Second column Health - covers all aspects of health from disease and conditions to most recent medical studies, to warning against certain drugs and pharmaceutical drug recalls. http://www.examiner.com/x-38644-Montreal-Health-Examiner

Third column

Mental Health - covers everything pertaining to psychology, psychiatry, self-improvement, theories about behavior and why we do the things we do and a lot more. http://www.examiner.com/x-33888-Montreal-Mental-HealthExaminer

******

8 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

ARTHUR C. FORD, SR PUBLISHER, EDITOR & POET: Dear Literary Artist, ‘The Poet Band Company’ is asking for poetry, max. 40 lines and prose, max. 300 words (English language only. If sent in another language, also include English translation or transliteration) to be submitted for possible publication in “THE POETRY EXPLOSION NEWSLETTER” (“THE PEN”), issued quarterly (January, April, July, October).

JULY'S ISSUES ARE DEDICATED TO ROMANTIC POETRY OCTOBER'S ISSUES SPOTLIGHTS HOLIDAY POETRY ALL OTHER ISSUES ARE “OPENED TO THE WRITER” We publish poems and prose pertaining to all subjects (love, holidays, current events, etc.) and in any form (sonnets, haiku, rhyme, free and blank verse, etc.). Simultaneous and prepublished submissions are accepted. Bio-sketches are optional.

Presently, we are not paying monetarily, but if your works are selected we'll send you a free copy of the issue in which they (it) appear(s). Send us your best!

All submissions must be typed and of “camera ready” quality.

Submit a maximum of five works (an S.A.S.E. with correct postage if you want your works that are not accepted for publication to be returned). E-Mail submissions are accepted and must include Snail-Mail address.

Note: If sending from another country, please send International Coupons (2 per dollar amount) or a Money Order or a Check written in U.S. Dollars from a United States bank.

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If you have never been published, this may be your chance!

GUIDELINES (www.thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com) Thanks for your love of the written word!

Subscriptions: $25.00 yearly (4 issues) or $48.00 for 2 years.

Send $4.00 for a sample issue. Outside the USA and Canada, $35.00 U.S Dollars for 4 issues (1 year) or $68.00 for 8 issues (2 years).

Make Check or Money Order payable to: Arthur C. Ford, Sr. P.O. Box 4725 Pittsburgh, PA 15206-0725 (U.S.A.) Email: wewuvpoetry@hotmail.com Toll Free Phone: 1-866-234-0297 POEMS ARE CRITIQUED AT 15 CENTS PER WORD. ADVERTISING RATES: Size One issue Four issues 1/8 page $10.00 $35.00 ¼ page $20.00 $60.00 ½ page $40.00 $120.00 Full Page $80.00 $270.00 Ads must be “camera ready” and printed in black and white.

Logos are accepted.

Yours in Words, Arthur C. Ford, Sr., Poet & Editor

****** KJ HANNAH GREENBERG AUTHOR & POET: “Hi Rosanne, ‘Friendsake,’ a poem of mine you published in your September 2010 magazine, is one of fifty collected in ‘A Bank Robber's Bad Luck with His Ex-Girlfriend, Unbound CONTENT,’ 10 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

December 2011.”

Please let your readers know this book can be ordered from the publisher at: https://www.createspace.com/3729088 Or at Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Bank-Robbers-Bad-Luck-ExGirlfriend/dp/193637322X/ref=sr_1_1? s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1324641358&sr=1-1 Songbirds are entertaining. Roses smell nice. Most passion, however, resolves as cacophonous and stinky. In “A Bank Robber’s Bad Luck with His Ex-Girlfriend,” this mess we call ‘love,’ gets reduced, poked at, prodded, and eventually pushed over. Don't miss out on this tough, sassy, hopeful assemblage of verse!

Press up against its soft concepts of intimate associations.

Come along to slide among “A Bank Robber’s Bad Luck with His Ex-Girlfriend’s” articulated regrets, muted longings, and rudimentary joys, today!

What’s more, “Unbound CONTENT” would like to offer your readership a 10% discount off of the cover price of “A Bank Robber’s Bad Luck with His Ex-Girlfriend.” Readers who use the code "sentiment’s chowder" on their order form will be charged this lower fee. Deeper, group discounts can be arranged by contacting annmarie@unboundcontent.com Thanks!”

--KJ Hannah Greenberg.

****** JOSEPH J. MAZZELLA AUTHOR & WRITER: Dear Friends, I have good news! After a lot of encouragement by wonderful people like you I have finally self-published a 11 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

collection of my favorite articles as a book. The book is titled “WALKING THE PATH OF LOVE.” It is available at Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/WALKING-PATH-LOVE-JosephMazzella/dp/1609573773/ref=sr_1_3? ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1278516602&sr=1-3 I only wish the publisher had offered me a dedication page so I could have thanked all of you for your love and support over the years. This book was written for you. I also wish I was wealthy enough to send all of you a free copy, but sadly I can't. I was able to get it discounted at a decent price though. I also have good news for all of you technology lovers out there! My book: “WALKING THE PATH OF LOVE” is also available in e-book format. You can get it for Kindle on Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com/WALKING-THE-PATH-LOVEebook/dp/B00AMLPJ8A/ref=sr_1_1?s=digitaltext&ie=UTF8&qid=1355334413&sr=11&keywords=walking+the+path+of+love You can get it for Nook at Barnes & Noble at: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/walking-the-path-of-lovejoseph-j-mazzella/1023319336?ean=2940015759143

****** ROGER DEAN KISER AUTHOR AND CHILD ADVOCATE: Author Roger Dean Kiser’s Child Advocate Office site is: http://thewhitehouseboys.com/AmericanOrphan/americanorp han/index.html

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===================================== If you are a freelance writer, go to Filbert Publishing today to pick up your copy of Beth Ann Erickson’s helpful eBook, “101 No Cost or Low Cost Techniques to Turbo Charge Your Freelance Income!”

She offers a ton of excellent advice on how to earn more than pennies for your freelance writing.

Also check out the “Helpful Sites for You” page on my website for other interesting, fun sites, and literary journals and magazines!

I would like you to welcome my other Contributors; some new, some established who have written short stories, poems, and helpful informative articles for you. If you like what they have written, do let them know by email or by visiting their websites. [Authors’ email addresses or websites are listed in the “About the Author” bios.] My contributors love hearing from you.

See y’all in October!

Copyright © July-September 2014 Rosanne Catalano.

Cat’s Rule, Dogs Drool and We Love Them Still! ================================================== ===================

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COFFEE HOUSE 4 READERS CORNER

Bringing You Fiction & Nonfiction Short Stories, Essays and Flash Fiction for Your Reading Pleasure!

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And So, the Rains Came SANDRA L HOYNACKI Author of “Purple Latches,” “Whispers From the Ledge” And “On Call”

IT STARTED OUT AS ANY OTHER DAY IN WHICH STORMS are predicted and floods imminent. So I thought, just another day here in Florida. News media had begun broadcasting tales of what nature’s wrath may do in other states. I was concerned because it sounded like a sure disaster for many. Not here. Not us. Why not us? We were not immune to nature or her/his bipolar-ness.

My husband was leaving on a business trip Tuesday at one am; just prior to the storm. His business would take him into all the predicted paths of this crazy storm. You know how men are. They must ride right into the face of danger because that’s just how they do things. That’s always what John Wayne did, wasn’t it? I should have told him that he wasn’t a John Wayne, nor had he been deemed a Steven Seagal either.

That night as the rain painted both my eyes and ears with pale concern, I took note that my cat, Tiger, had decided to walk across the den carpet while doing the dance of Tiny Tim but without the tulips; feet lifting high like a show horse.

From that small mouth came this loud meowing in the key of something like a love-sick mule. She recently lost her hearing and thinks no one in the world can hear her. Lord, please give me ear plugs. I had not been in the den because I was feeling the need to open the living room door to 15 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

monitor the rage of the newly-formed river on the street outside. I turned to check out Tiger’s dilemma, when I saw that the water was gushing in by my computer desk.

Tiger had been trying to let me know there was a looming problem. I couldn’t begin to imagine at that time what was going to happen in the coming hours of this dark, stormy night. Lightning cracked and popped like a whip against an unruly stallion. Things were not going to be copasetic. I could see that the floor of the den was quickly covered in water. It came to me that the electrical cords were now laying wet in the gushing water. I called the fire department and told them that my electrical cords were soaked in water and would they come help me. I was afraid of a possible fire.

They stated “we can’t get down your road ma’am. Someone from your street has already called. No way can we get there.”

A little while later, the lights went out, and I figured that might have helped the electrical cord issues if nothing else.

I had gotten out flashlights and candles and was looking for a revelation from God on how to build an ark, but He did not give one. Since I never learned to swim, I wondered what I would do. I decided that if worse came to worse, I would get on the table, place a chair up there and then sit in it with a glass of soda and a straw. I walked through the house with my flashlight and went in first one room and then the other.

Suddenly, the smell of gas was very strong.

It was coming from the back of the house where my husband’s workshop is located. He keeps six full cans of gasoline in there at all times. Without question, I knew they 16 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

had turned over and the spilled gas was swirling around the house in the rushing river. By that time, the flashlight allowed me to see that the water was at least four feet high against the shop. I could only pray that God would not allow the lightning to strike because I would be blown up for sure.

It was said later that we had lightning flashes to the tune of approximately 85,000 in an hour. The water in the den was knee-deep now. The water had risen to the bottom part of my car doors, and I knew it was going inside. My brother and I were calling each other back and forth. He and I had always been very close. He offered to come get me, but I declined. I would weather this storm out with prayers and common sense. He kept me informed of the cars that were running off the road in ditches full of water. The people in those cars were killed. Of course, the force of the water was so great against the doors, that the people inside were unable to roll down the windows and get out. One was an elderly lady trying to get home. I knew that several roads had washed out. By then, it was gushing in my back door as well. It had risen above my back steps, over the porch (which is three feet high), and into the den.

It was a long night with an eerie feeling magnified by every flash of lightning, every whiff of gasoline that permeated the house, and the hammering on the roof by what portrayed itself as the angry rain maker.

My husband made it home around 4:30 in the morning. It took almost 2 hours to go a few miles. Roads were closed by thundering rivers, and death was waiting on every corner of the drive home. God was with him as always. When he 17 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

stepped from the vehicle, water was just above his knees.

There was no sleep that night or throughout the long day following. Everything had to be removed from the den: Carpeting, furniture, floating papers and pictures. I remember well seeing a picture of my daddy floating across the room the night before. So thankful to my kids and all others that stepped in and took over during this fearful time in my life. Thank you one and all.

My son, Billy, called a couple of days later to see how things were going. My car was flooded. He said, “Mom, how high did it get in the car?” I replied, “I don’t know, son,” “Well mom, did it reach the hump?” “What is a hump, son?

Do I have a hump?” A pause was followed by a chuckle and the description of the humps in some cars. “Mom, go outside and look in your car on the floor.” I asked that he hold on a second. Walking out to my car, I opened the doors and was amazed to see I had a hump, and it was dry.

I thank God every day for His blessings. They are new every day, in every way.

Thank you all, once more, for your prayers. They work every time; according to His purpose. ~From the Pensacola Floods on April 30, 2014.

Copyright © May 2014 Author-Sandra L Hoynacki.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: SANDRA L HOYNACKI retired from her nursing job to care for 18 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

her mother who had Alzheimer’s. She has since become an avid published writer and author, and has already won several contests for her poems and was once invited to read at a Poet’s Convention in Washington, DC. Sandra is the author of two books of poetry & short stories: “Purple Latches” and “Whispers from the Ledge.” And the author of a medical thriller titled “On Call,” which is her first fiction novel. The sequel, “Encryption’s Wrath,” another medical thriller, will debut soon.

She can be contacted at www.SandraHoynacki.com __________________________________________________________________ ________________________

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Putting on My Glasses JOSEPH J. MAZZELLA Author of “Walking the Path of Love” I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A delightful dream last night when suddenly a loud CRASH startled me awake. The dogs in my bedroom all started to bark loudly. With my heart pounding I stumbled out of my bed and stubbed my toe on the dresser. I yelped and hopped on one foot as I fearfully opened my bedroom door. A dark form flashed by me and banged into the bedroom door. I jumped back, tripped over my smallest dog, and fell back onto my bed. Then I finally woke up enough to realize that I needed my glasses. I put them on, turned on the light, and walked into the hall again.

The dark form turned out to be my grey cat. She had gotten into another midnight wrestling match with her sister and had knocked over a dining room chair. I shook my head and then hopped back to the bed. I sat down, smiled, and thanked God for keeping me safe from things that go bump in the night. Then I took off my glasses and went back to sleep.

Some people have said that I go through life wearing rose colored glasses, but in truth the lenses I wear in my soul help me to see everything clearly. I see all the problems, pains, tragedies, and troubles in this life, but I see them without the blurriness of fear. I can see that this is God’s world; that His love is all around us, and that in the end all things will work out for our good if we only trust Him. This 20 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

helps me go forth every day to do my part, to share my love, to give my gifts, and to make this world better with my life.

Living your life in fear is like going through life half blind.

Everything seems blurrier, scarier and more ominous than it really is. When you realize that God loves you and that you can love as well, however, it is like putting on a new pair of badly needed glasses. Everything becomes clear and you get 20/20 vision for your soul. Don’t stumble through your life in fear then. Put on your glasses and enjoy this wonderful life that God has given you.

Copyright © April 2014 Joseph J. Mazzella. ==================================

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The Best Meal I Ever Had JOSEPH J. MAZZELLA Author of “Walking the Path of Love” "WHAT WAS THE MOST DELICIOUS MEAL you ever had?"

That was the question in an online survey that popped up on my screen the other day. I moved my mouse over and clicked out of the survey, but the question stayed with me. As I thought about it only one answer came to my mind: Ramen noodles.

It happened years ago during Hurricane Sandy when 3 feet of wet, heavy snow hit the mountains of my home.

Trees were snapped, power lines were down, and my children and I were stuck in the house bundled up in coats and shivering in the cold. We had no heat, no lights, no television, no telephone, and no internet. The meat in the freezer had already gone bad and any food that wasn’t spoiled had already been eaten. All the stores were closed due to the storm too. I felt shaky from not eating and when I looked in my youngest son’s eyes I could see how hungry he was as well.

Thankfully, though, I still had several bags of Ramen noodles. Taking them and an old pot I walked over to my Dad’s house. He had lost power too but still had his propane grill to cook with. I set the noodles simmering on the eye of it and watched them slowly boil. Trudging back through the snow I held the pot gingerly. Then I poured myself, daughter and sons each a big bowl of them. They were so delicious.

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We ate and ate until our hunger faded and then sat around the table and smiled at each other. It was the best meal I ever had. We all felt so happy at that moment and our joy only grew greater when the power came back on later that night.

I learned something special too from that meal. I learned that the greatest happiness comes from a grateful heart.

Since then I have been more and more thankful to God for every blessing in my life. I thank Him for every sunny day, every meal, every smile, and every bird singing in the trees. I thank Him for my heat, lights, and all the modern conveniences we too often take for granted. I thank Him for each new day he gives me here to live, to learn, and to love.

I thank Him for His love. And I thank Him too for every adversity and challenge that comes my way, because I have learned to use them as well to grow stronger, better, and kinder.

May your best meal always be the one you are eating right now. May the best you always be the person you are right now. And may you always live with a grateful heart full of love and joy.

Copyright Š August 5, 2013 Joseph J. Mazzella.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: JOSEPH J. MAZZELLA is a published author and writer who was born, raised and still lives in the mountains of West Virginia in the USA. He grew up walking in the woodland trails around his home and draws much of the inspiration for 23 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

his work from God's beautiful creation that is all around him.

He graduated from Glenville State College with degrees in English and Education. He has worked over the years as a busboy, lumber mill worker, and teacher.

He is currently a mental health worker, and also cares for his two sons who have autism. A father of three, he has been writing for over 20 years for local county newspapers.

With the creation of the Internet, he is now read by people all over the world. In August of 2010 Joe had his first book published, titled “Walking the Path of Love”, which can be purchased at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble.com, or wherever books are sold. He can be contacted at: joemazzella@frontier.com __________________________________________________________________ ____________________

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The Wrestling Match CRAIG SHOLL I REMEMBER HOW THEY WOULD SHOUT my last name out of the blue. “Sholl!” they would say. There were about twenty of them altogether and four coaches that year, when I was just a sophomore. Mr. Romero was the head coach and my physical education teacher at North Babylon High School, Home of the Bulldogs right off of Deer Park Avenue on Long Island. He knew my father and his wrestling reputation and I was always very careful when I talked to him because I didn’t want to give the impression I was uninterested in the sport or get on his bad side.

My father had me wrestle since I was a kid but it was the last thing I wanted to do really, and I dreaded those long grueling practices for the most part. Besides that my father is an alcoholic and was out on some drinking binge at the time and always trying to find work as a cabinet maker.

Nevertheless I actually wound up breaking both bones in my left arm that year at Bellport High school. I remember a few weeks before I broke my arm though I had been feeling very depressed and overwhelmed so one day instead of going up to another teacher’s room in the school to play chess where I would usually go I went to see Mr. Romero in his office down in the north gym to try to get him to let me off the team. I was very worried about things as I thought I should be devoting more time to my violin that I had played since the fourth grade.

At the time I was studying violin with this woman in 25 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Smithtown along with another fellow I knew, Matt Toca, who was actually on the wrestling team himself as a heavy weight and the only one considered worse than myself.

Anyway, I think Matt similar to most heavy weights partly wrestled to keep his weight down.

Our teachers name was Sue and her house was large all done up with a grand piano and bass cello in her dining room and even a separate room for her lessons. I would go there after wrestling practice on Thursday nights and play with Matt out of some music book. I recall during the lesson Matt sat in a chair while I in an exhausted state stood and played, since his lesson was before mine and there was always only one seat. Lately she had been telling me how she wanted me to practice more. She told me I should find time to practice even in school if I could, aside from playing in the orchestra.

Anyway I had been thinking about all of that and what I was going to do.

When I finally got to the north gym I saw that Mr. Romero was alone in his office sitting at his desk. His gym office was like any other I suppose with a photograph up of the, “Four Horseman,” who were senior wrestlers my freshman year. “Sholl!” he said in a deep, rogue voice when he saw me standing in his doorway, “What can I do for you?” At that point I was a little reluctant to speak but did so anyway.

“Are you busy? Can I talk to you?”

“You certainly can,” he said, “What’s on your mind?”

“I want to talk to you about wrestling.”

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“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Anybody say anything to you?

Call you a pussy or something?” Steven Mallard, a light weight on the team, told me Mr. Romero called me a pussy once during practice when I wasn’t there and I had actually asked Mr. Romero previously during practice if he did. He said he didn’t and told me if he called me a pussy I would know it. Pussy was a term they used often on the team. If you weren’t a wrestler you were a pussy. And if you were a bad wrestler or just didn’t want to wrestle you were a pussy.

It seemed that everybody was just about a pussy.

“No,” I answered, “It’s just, uh. It’s just, I don’t know if this is the sport for me.” After I said that he looked down in his seat kind of glum and said, “Don’t think this is the sport for you. What d’ you mean man?” I just sort of stood there for a little in his office and thought of something to say to try to get me off the team without getting on his bad side so I said timidly, “We’ll, I’m getting the shit kicked out of me.” But after that he just turned his head away and said facetiously, “We’ll, if you’re getting the shit kicked out of you.” He said it beneath his breath and it made me feel kind of stupid.

I didn’t know what to say at that point, so I just spat out whatever came to mind, “I don’t know. Do you think any of the guys like me?”

“Hey, who cares what they think of you,” he said, “Are you Matt Toca? Are you the worst one on the team?”

“No,” I replied. A few moments later the girl’s gym coach came in and asked if he wanted anything from the deli next door from the school. He told her he wanted something with 27 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

chicken and a soup if they had it. We kept on talking for a while about wrestling and the team. When the other gym coach returned with the food he started eating in front of me and asked if I was hungry and offered me half his sandwich. I told him no but he asked again so I said yes. He offered me a can of coke too from the small refrigerator he had in his room. All the while he was just acting real nice to me.

“You still playing that violin?” he asked (As if I weren’t).

“You know - I like to see one of those violin or cello players that…that has a little bulk on his arms when he’s playing. I like to know he’s a man when he’s playing that thing. Yeah – you know what I’m talking about?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

He must have thought I was a moron.

“Yeah!” he said. No doubt I was being very careful with what I said at that point. I thought of anything to persuade him to let me off the team and I wondered if he knew about my father’s drinking.

“You know, I have some family problems too.”

“Family problems?” he paused. “You think that’s big.

There are some guys parents addicted to crack in this school! That’s not that big.” He kind of startled me a little after he said that. Looking back on it though there’s no way he didn’t know about my father. In fact probably every coach knew about my father one way or another. Anyhow after I finished my half a sandwich and coke he asked me how it 28 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

was. I told him it was good but then he asked me if I was going to keep on wrestling. I certainly didn’t want to say no at that point after he told me about Matt Toca being the worst one on the team and just fearing what the hell would happen to me if I said I didn’t want to wrestle anymore so I just said yes.

A few weeks later there I was sitting on the rolled up mat in the front of the wrestling room with the rest of the team hanging around and feeling again very depressed. I was all dressed up in my corduroy pants and long sleeved, buttoned down shirt waiting to go out to the bus for a meet at Bellport High school. Then, all of a sudden, I saw this man Mr. Golding as he noticed me as well. His son Golding was on the team. Golding was a senior and was one of the better and clean cut wrestlers on the team but he was not unkind to me unlike some of the others and had a nice way about him.

Nevertheless, I remember Steven Mallard kidding around and shouting out once in the wrestling room, “Sholl’s got a girlfriend!” and Golding shouting back, “Who? His is left hand!” On occasion Mr. Golding would write about the team’s wins or losses for some reason.

“How are you, Mr. Sholl?” he said putting his hand out to shake. Some people say that and call me “Mr. Sholl” and he was one of them. By that time I was pretty anxious so I just sat there and said, “I’m alright.”

“Are you wrestling this evening?” I had not been wrestling for a few weeks because I had gotten some impetigo in my 29 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

right ear that nearly rotted the tip off. It’s common among wrestlers to get it.

“Yes,” I answered.

“I don’t know if you know Mr. Sholl, but I work at Woods Road Elementary school.”

“Oh,” I said. Actually I didn’t know and thought he was some successful business man. He was always dressed well and didn’t give the impression of being a school teacher. He went on to say, “You see a lot of the kids at school seem to think that wrestling is like the type they see on T.V. and not like this type, because sometimes you’ll see them wrestling and fooling around and actually end up hurting each other.” I smiled, “Yes - And we’re just trying to show them what wrestling really is and has actually always been like.”

Actually it wasn’t all that true what he was saying about the sport and I recalled my father telling me about his grandfather who lived nearly a hundred years ago and telling me how wrestling was very different back then.

He told me a few things about him like how he threw some guy right through a wall in some bar fight and how he got syphilis when he was an older man and made a cheese sandwich out of soap. I thought about all that and just said, “We’ll, actually in my grandfather’s day wrestling was pretty different. I mean some of the moves they used would be considered illegal today, like maybe bending the wrist back.

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So… it evolved.”

“I see,” he said nodding. I must have seemed pretty out of place to him me in my corduroy pants and shirt sitting there on the rolled up wrestling mat. As he walked away he told me, “Good luck, tonight” and left. When the buses finally arrived most of the team left to get on as Mr. Romero was in the little room with the scales talking to the assistant coach Latello. Latello wasn’t like Mr. Romero but didn’t say much of anything to me. While I was in the wrestling room though I thought about it and then I did something kind of thoughtless and made a terrible decision. I asked Mr. Romero to have me wrestle varsity instead of J.V. or junior varsity. I figured if I lost wrestling on the varsity team it wouldn’t look as bad and at least and I wouldn’t be ridiculed by everyone on the way back as some of the guys on the team had been getting more and more fresh with me about things. However, Mr. Romero told me, “Ok, Sholl!” and it was set as Latello just looked at him and didn’t say anything.

It was a long trip to Bellport High school. Everyone was fairly normal on the bus and talking about the things they talked about. I on the other hand was anxious as hell. My violin and backpack were still in the wrestling room where I had left them and I just sat there quietly on the bus by myself. When we got to the school it looked just like any other high school perhaps somewhat larger. I got the impression wrestling was taken seriously at Bellport High school because they put us in one of two wrestling rooms in the school unlike other times when mostly we would just wait in the stands. When we were in the room though I remember it being very dark with hardly any light and they 31 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

had this real large, professional type scale for weighing in. I never really cut any weight my sophomore year and certainly wasn’t in the shape of my life, but I had not been wrestling consistently having the impetigo and all in my ear that week.

As I made my way up to the scale though and got on right next to my coach I remember feeling like a hunk of meat and I wondered what the hell I was getting into. The weight class I would be wrestling at that evening was one hundred forty five pounds which is usually considered to be the toughest weight class, but it had only dawned on me by then that I wasn’t even in shape. Anyway I was too afraid to tell my coach I didn’t want to wrestle for fear of what would happen.

After we weighed in though everyone on the team just started eating their lunch or whatever they had brought with them. As for myself I took out a Caesar salad I had bought from the deli that day and tried to swallow it down although I was feeling too depressed to eat really. Everyone then started getting undressed including myself and put on their wrestling singlet’s and then over it our Navy Blue North Babylon Bulldogs sweatshirts. Then we all began going out to the stands and gymnasium with our bags and equipment.

The gym itself was quite large and the stands went way up.

Everything was setup the mats for warming up and chairs on either side of the mat for the wrestlers to sit in. I just then went over and sat in the stands but as I was sitting I remember being a little way’s over from Monty.

Monty was a light weight wrestler like Mallard and a 32 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

freshman on the team but I think he was kind of intrigued by my presence. He had a very pretty mother and his parents were fairly successful so I heard. I remember one time him telling me, “Sholl, I’ve got something you should see,” and he took me to his locker in the gym to show me a picture of a naked woman. As I was sitting though I heard Monty’s father in front of me asking, “Does something stink?” But then Monty answered his father and said, “Yeah, maybe it’s Sholl.” I could tell Monty’s father was pretty upset but just looked at him and said, “Is that necessary?” Nevertheless, I just left the stands after that to sit in one of the seats as I was getting more and more depressed and nervous about the match.

As I made my way though, I overheard A.J. talking to Frank Wolf along with Danny Crow. They were among the better and tougher wrestlers on the team and A.J. was going on about how he wasn’t going to play football next year because it interfered with his wrestling. “It’s plausible,” he said. As I sat there I was hoping there wouldn’t be a very large audience but nevertheless it just kept getting larger and larger. The meet started up shortly after that though.

The first few bouts ended fast in favor of Bell Port as it got closer and closer to my match. I could even see that the audience was made up of mostly Russian people which got me even more nervous. I even recall some Russian woman in the stands pumping her arms as her jacked and determined looking son watched her on the other team. I’m not sure but I think after he won his match she briskly walked out of the gym as though she knew he would win. Everyone seemed ridiculous for some reason. Finally it came time for me to 33 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

start warming up on the small mat in back of our seats.

Slowly I got up and went to the mat. Actually I never saw anyone warming up as they should have and was always a little shy to do so myself. My father always told me you should warm up until you break a sweat and I remember him standing over me one match during the Christmas tournament at North Babylon having me warm up like I was Jake LaMotte or something. Very rarely did he attend a match because of his work but this time he was right on top of me.

I think I actually wrestled well because of it pinning this strong looking black kid in an exhibition match. I admit I was not without skill and in fact knew more moves than anyone on the team but just wasn’t very strong. As the clock ran down on the match before mine I was at the peak of my anxiety and feeling so down. I knew something bad was going to happen but what I didn’t quite know. When the match was over it was another win for Bell Port and I was in my singlet with my headgear on. I looked very different from the other wrestlers not having as much muscle tone or being in shape and at that point I knew it was over for me and could just hope that my opponent pin me quickly. In fact it was not an unusual circumstance for me and I remember many times hoping the same thing.

Slowly I walked and made my way onto Bell Ports wrestling mat meeting my opponent in the center circle. I don’t know if the crowd or the referee or even my jock bastard opponent thought anything out of the ordinary as I stood there briefly with him shaking hands and commencing 34 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

the match. The referee than briskly blew his whistle and we started wrestling. In brief he murdered me the first period in points taking me down and twisting me up.

Still I knew I had to fight somewhat to make it look like I was doing something and so I tried to just stay off my back, a usual scheme of mine. Then I remember I was thrown out of bounds and decided like most of the other wrestlers to run back. As I did I tripped where one of the mats met the other as my coaches sat embarrassed muttering to me, “Don’t trip.” When I did some of the audience laughed and at I didn’t know what to do other than hope for a pin. This time I was starting on bottom but then the referee came up to me and asked me, “Are you gonna wrestle?” I told him, “Yes,” reluctantly, while my opponent was grinning. “Get that smile off your face!” the other coach yelled out. I even heard someone in the audience shout out, “Get in shape!” as they made disapproving sounds at me making it quite embarrassing. I actually thought about going over to my coach and telling him I wanted to forfeit the match but I knew I needed a ride home and I thought he’d probably just spit in my eye or something.

When the match started again I did my usual bit of turning inside out as they called it but naturally it wasn’t working. Even one of my coaches was standing up on the sidelines shouting out in the most barbaric way, “Stand up…

Stand up!” and raising his hands in the air. Finally I did in the most awful way. “No, not like that!” the coach shouted as my opponent “Bear hugged” me in the air taking me back to the mat and breaking my left arm in two.

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At first I didn’t see anything wrong but then I heard everyone kind of moan as I noticed half my arm was between my legs and hanging off almost in a Z – shape with the rest of it. It was a bad break both bones broken tearing muscle and ligament galore but not a trace of blood. In a natural reaction to the break I set my arm immediately upon seeing it and everyone moaned again. After that I began yelling and yelling as I was in much pain and just freaking out. Even as I did some of the Bell Port team videotaped me while the audience just waited in awe. It was a most peculiar moment in my life and could hardly believe what was going on around me.

I just remember looking up at the lights from the ceiling way above and Mr. Romero standing with the other teams coach to the side of me and saying, “Don’t worry. We know you want to bite on something…the ambulance is coming.”

But then I asked him something I thought I would never ask anyone. I asked him if I was going to die. I thought perhaps one of my bones may have created serious internal bleeding in my arm like tearing some artery open, not knowing much about these things. Mr. Romero just said reassuringly, “No. Nothing like that,” but I was scared anyway.

When the ambulance arrived naturally I was still on the mat in the same position with some of the sports medicine people in back of my head talking with the coach who kept shouting for me to stand up. Finally a young woman with the ambulance crew said to me, “Craig – I’m with the hospital you’re going to go to, Brookhaven. And, I just need to ask you a few questions about what happened. So just tell me what you can?” After she said that though I thought of 36 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

something kind of ironic to say because I was lying with my arm broken on a wrestling mat with coaches and sports medicine people all around me and she was asking me what happened so I just grinned and said - “What the hell does that mean?” One of my coaches laughed, while the other coach’s team just turned away.

The coach who laughed was Mr. Vincent. I think he liked me a little because he thought I was knowledgeable. He must have thought a lot of himself though too because sometimes he would say he thought he was a renaissance man until he met me. Anyway, this one time he took me and some other of the younger wrestlers to wrestle in a small tournament at a school in Brooklyn where he taught at. I actually wrestled well because neither one of the other team’s opponents was really that strong but they were just city kids really.

Nevertheless he was always nice to me as any of them could be and I remember one time that sophomore year a star wrestler who was visiting the practice called me a pussy. I wasn’t sure so I asked Mr. Vincent when no one else was around in the hall near the water fountain. It was the end of practice and I had been getting the hell kicked out of me. I remember he told me not to worry about it and said to me, “That guy calls everyone a pussy,” trying to be sweet and all. Then he put his arm around my shoulder and walked me down slowly to the locker room. As we walked he started talking to me about how I shouldn’t pay any attention to what the other wrestlers were saying about me. When we reached the end of the hallway I began to cry overwhelmed from his sympathy. “I’m just tired…I’m just tired,” I said 37 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

trying to hold back my tears.

Anyhow, after the in depth interview they put me on a platform of some kind and bandaged my arm to a small board, careful not to disturb anything as they prepared to put me on the stretcher. Once I was finally on the stretcher they wheeled me out but as they did I saw the audience still in kind of awe and Mr. Golding standing where the wrestlers were seated looking at me with a gloomy face. I don’t know what he was thinking but I don’t think it wasn’t anything too happy.

When I was finally in the ambulance the young women who asked me how I broke my arm got in the back with me and a moment later the ambulance took off. Halfway into the trip she told me it was a compound fracture and that I might have scars from surgery but women liked scars. I was just thrilled with that but then the real pain started in. As we kept on riding though I said I was sorry for earlier on when she was asking me questions but she said it was alright.

When the ambulance finally arrived at the hospital the woman got out and the men that were driving the whole time took me out from the back and wheeled me in.

Actually I was sort of surprised to see Latello’s face approach me when I was in the hospital as he must have followed the ambulance from behind in his car. I was in agony by that time kind of banging my right arm up and down against the arm of the wheel chair they managed to put me in. As we waited in the intake area Latello was standing in back of me and just told me the more I complained the more I would be helped. I smiled but I was 38 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

worried about something else though. It was late and I knew they had called home to reach one of my parents. I was hoping it would be my mother because surely my father was probably inebriated at that hour. Nevertheless Latello went on to tell me that my father was on his way. I remember waiting for a while and hoping for the best but as usual the best was not in store. Instead he came and I could tell like anything else he had been drinking. His eyes were bloodshot and he was acting the way he does when he had been drinking. I could even tell he had been drinking Vodka too instead of just Scotch. Latello explained to him what had happened to me a little but I could tell he knew my father had been drinking and didn’t even bat an eye at me but just kept looking at my father.

Soon an X-ray technician came out and introduced himself to me and the other two. I couldn’t tell if the technician knew my father had been drinking as he acted very nonchalant, but after briefly talking to us he wheeled me into the X-ray room along with Latello and my father and told me to brace myself because they were going to put my arm on the X-ray machine but to relax the muscles in my arm or go limp. I did but then after they took the X-rays and put my arm back I started to cry. My father asked me if I was crying because I was injured or if I was depressed but I just told him it was because I was depressed. He said he thought so too, actually comforting me but continued talking to Latello with his bloodshot eyes. I remember another time my father comforting me, just before a match. I was in the locker room by myself and Mr. Vincent showed him where I was. Naturally I was feeling very down and I think he could kind of tell. He was all dressed up from work and I was 39 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

wearing my singlet again under my shorts and North Babylon Bulldogs sweatshirt. He sat down next to me on one of the benches that was a little loose at the end. Then he put his arm around my shoulder and told me to just to do my best no matter what happened.

Actually I felt a little bad for him when he said that because I knew I was going to lose the match and I knew what wrestling meant to him. After he told me that he left to sit in the stands and watch me as I got murdered by this kid from Greenport ending in a technical win for my opponent.

After they took the X-ray’s they put me and my father in this room with a bed and Latello left. Then somehow they managed to put me up on the bed from the wheelchair as several nurses came in to remove the temporary bandages and put on some new ones. I can only imagine what my arm must have looked like in that state as they unraveled the garments. I was still a little weary of my father, however, and wondered if the nurses knew anything or were going to ask me anything about him. The older of the two nurses gave me a narcotic of some kind and told me I was going to feel like I was getting high although it didn’t have much of an effect.

At that point everyone left the room and I didn’t know what happened but when the younger nurse returned she told me she needed to ask me some questions. Then she said to me, “Craig, you’re fathers looking a little under the weather tonight. He looks like he’s sick. Do you know why?”

I told her I didn’t know why which was a natural lie as I was just too scared and embarrassed to tell the truth. Then she 40 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

left me alone in the room but when she came back she had a chart with her and she told me she just needed to ask me a few questions about my family history for medical purposes.

As she asked the questions I could tell they weren’t even about the injury, but when she asked if there was any drug or alcohol abuse in my family I remember telling her, “Yes, My Grandfather.” I knew from my mother he drank as well.

She then asked, “Anyone else?” but then I decided to give it to her, hesitatingly, and told her, “My father.” I don’t know if I was scared at that point or just plain embarrassed but I suppose both.

After the inquisition between me and the nurse she left the room as I lay there not knowing what she was doing.

Shortly though my father finally returned and asked me if I wanted anything to eat. I told him no but he insisted I eat something and told me there was a diner across the street. I told him I didn’t care and if he wanted to get me something he could but anything was alright.

When he came back he had a burger and fries with him in a plastic container. I took a few bites of the burger but didn’t have much of an appetite naturally as my father stood beside me for a little while. After that though, I was brought up to my room on the bed while my father stayed back for some reason. When they finally brought me to my room I thought I was going to be all alone that night and in terrible pain but then actually was surprised when I saw my father come in.

The room was like any other hospital room maybe a little shabbier; with a television across from the front of my bed 41 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

and some folding chair to the right of it next to the window.

My father sat down on the chair and asked me how I was doing and told me I was going to be in a lot of pain. He was actually beginning to sober up, which was a surprise and I at times wonder if the nurses gave him anything that night; like to perk him up. He asked me if I wanted to watch any television. Again, I told him I didn’t care but if he wanted to he could turn it on.

He did and actually The Bounty was on AMC with Mel Gibson and Anthony Hopkins, which wasn’t too bad. As we were watching they brought another patient in; I believe to have his tonsils removed. He was younger than me but was very scared and I remember he didn’t want his parents to leave. Then the father came over to us and asked what we were watching. My father told him, “The Bounty.” I could tell my father was really disappointed about the break and very mad that it happened; telling me I shouldn’t have been wrestling at that weight class yet I just didn’t know any better. I even remember him saying, “Boy, I could just kill that coach having you wrestle at one forty five.”

We talked for a little about things and the match but after the movie was over my father turned off the television and went to sleep on the chair. I was actually relieved the day was over and had actually enjoyed the quiet time I spent with my father. I remember thinking it was the first relief I had had in a long time and now I wouldn’t have to wrestle again after what had happened. I was in much pain but it felt as though a burden had been taken off of me.

Nevertheless, I really didn’t get any sleep that night 42 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

because I didn’t have any pain medication whatsoever. But after all it was far from a great hospital; there was never a nurse around.

Copyright © April 2014 Craig Sholl.

About the Author:

CRAIG SHOLL tells the story about a horrific night in which he broke his rear bone during a High School wrestling match. He shares this memoir story because he “believes it is compelling and also humorous, but it is about my father and myself and how he ‘Willed’ me to wrestle and be on the team.” However, there is a point during the night at which Craig and his father bond in which he finds solace. Craig has written other things as well including an ongoing memoir. He says, “My father is an alcoholic and drinks steadily and I have been dealing with depression for years. Nevertheless, I have tried to find solace in writing so I would very much like to see if anything of mine can be published. As of now I am 27 years old and live in Hauppauge on Long Island.” Well, Craig you are now a published writer – Congrats! He can be contacted at csholl152@gmail.com __________________________________________________________________ __________________________

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Covergirl ANTHONY GREEN I ALWAYS BELIEVED IN THE POWER OF MAKE-UP. I loved lip-gloss, blush and all of man’s other cosmetic innovations.

They granted me the ability to mask the small bags under my eyes along with the scar on my chin, erasing God’s errors to create my own illusion of perfection. That night, I peered into my cup of cranberry kissed vodka before applying a touch up, an unnecessary task under the low lights illuminating the layer of tobacco smoke that crept through the crowded bar like lost souls. With the precision of an artist’s brush, I colored my mouth to the point of lusciousness. As I painted myself, I spoke through puckered lips, and Lucky only nodded at the appropriate pauses.

“Ever heard of Dorothy Dandridge? Well, she was a black actress back when there was no pride to be black or female.

Yet if you watch her old movies, she had this unshakable sense of class and dignity, the EPITOME of a lady. Today our little black girls are starving for role models like that but are force-fed these celebrity twitter whores and glamorized reality television bitches.”

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“Yeah, I saw her in Carmen Jones… good movie,” Lucky announced, lowering the glass corpse of his Budweiser. This was the first time he’d spoken since he introduced himself.

Lucky actually didn’t need an introduction because his existence had already stained my history like clumps of dried mud even if he didn’t remember. His baritone resonated a carefree joy that surprisingly adulthood hadn’t withered. His golden dreadlocks were plaited into two neat braids and those charcoal colored eyes were even blacker than my memories of them. When he approached me tonight, he’d flirted so hard that I couldn’t resist punishing his efforts with my ramblings. I’d grown curious to see just how long my suitor would pretend to be interested in my prattling on.

“We children of the 90’s do not appreciate classic cinema so don’t act like you’ve seen Carmen Jones,” I teased.

“My grandmother didn’t have cable so she’d make me watch old movies on VHS. So while I might not be as talkative as you, I’m not completely ignorant, ma’am.”

Lucky’s expression melted into a playful grin that I’d only seen on small boys. Its raw purity couldn’t possibly live within this twenty five year old man, dressed in his dusty mechanic uniform. As though it were full of sand, I shook my mind clear of that smile before he continued. “Besides, Carman Jones was about the tragic fall of a man by the hands of a beautiful woman. It’s the story of my life so I definitely wish that little black girls had better role models.

Maybe then they wouldn’t stomp all over men’s hearts in bars.”

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Before I could press my lips together in disbelief at his comment, Lucky revealed a crumpled pack of Newport and lit one. His darkened lips released a strand of tobacco that joined the clustering of ash-ridden souls toward the ceiling.

God, I adored how a man moves, so deliberate and in control. The way his calloused hands held that cigarette both firmly and lovingly almost made me jealous. I decided to reply to his earlier statement.

“It’s not like little black boys have the best role models either. At some point, even if we’re lost we’ve got to take responsibility for our own destinies. That’s why I’ve got a career plan. First I’m going to break out on one those modeling competition shows. Then I’ll host some type of entertainment news program and finally retire with my own talk show.”

“That sounds more like the Monday night lineup than a career plan,” Lucky said, with a chuckle.

“Well, it’s going to happen,” I assured him, without missing a beat. He tapped the tip of his Newport on the rim of a nearby glass before looking those stunning charcoal diamond peepers right at me.

“Yeah, I believe it will. You’re smart, beautiful and most importantly the EPITOME of a lady.”

I searched his tone for sarcasm but found what I believed to be sincerity. As I stared deep into those lumps of coal, his eyes met mine. Since birth, my left pupil had been green and the other one brown, a rarity genetic trait I assumed I got 46 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

from my father, whoever he was! As Lucky got lost in the mystery of my emerald iris and its golden sister, I refused to get lost in him. When a man like Lucky strikes a woman’s heart, the wound is always fatal.

Still, I struggled to prevent the embers of desire inside of me from flickering into sparks of rage. I excused myself before I played my hand too quick and he’d remember our tumultuous past or realize that I was born a man.

In the past eight months, I’d been taking my hormones regularly and my budding chest grew fuller than the doctors predicted. Hopefully my days of showering in the dark, avoiding the sight of my male genitalia were numbered. My testosterone was decreasing as the woman inside had begun to peak through the curves of my body. I’d let my natural hair grow out combined with the finest Indian hair extensions on the west side of Chicago. I’d been out since I began transitioning, but this wasn’t one of the drag bars downtown. My body now served as a sort of Trojan horse, capable of entering the heterosexual realm and passing as one of them.

I daintily squeezed through the maze of bar patrons, playing the polite game of “pardon me,” as I avoided bumping into potentially hostile people’s open drink containers. The low end of the city was the last place to incite confrontation.

Before transforming into Danica, I was Daniel, a petite effeminate boy with an unruly head of curls and a buttermilk 47 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

complexion. Those soft exotic features that once alienated me were now the same attributes that now made Danica desirable. All night long, men morphed into visual vultures feasting on the sublime aesthetic of my low cut sequined dress and seven inch heels. I’d spent a lot of time and money making sure that Danica was the complete image of feminine beauty. When I was a gay man, hyper masculine men avoided my gaze. Now in the straight world, the real world, Danica was accepted as an actual woman, even by Lucky.

I followed the thunder of crashing pool balls to find my sisters in the middle of a game. Jada’s high-pitched squealing cascaded over the rhythm and blues coming from the speakers. Her alto was thoroughly marinated with the grit of low-income living. Everything about my eldest sister Felicia was hard. Her scratch of a voice had that gruff vibrato of a woman who had to speak up to men all her life.

Her hair was short, but not sleek and stylish like a supermodel. She never wore dresses, instead always a tshirt with jeans, the oversized kind. Marilyn Monroe once said, ‘your clothes should be tight enough to show that you’re female but loose enough to show you are a lady.’

“Where have you been?” Jada inquired with a suspicious eye. She let her left hip drop and held her pool stick as if it were a stripper pole. Jada could make a person feel her wrath, treat them to a smile, or even comfort them with a hug. Her emphasis on each syllable gauged the temperature of every conversation and informed you exactly what type of person you were being in that moment. Felicia still visibly cringed with her little sister’s vulgarity.

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“I was just talking to some dude,” I answered, glancing back across the crowded room at Lucky who still hadn’t stopped penetrating me with his gaze since I walked away.

My eyes darted between my two siblings, wondering if one of them had recognized my friend at the bar.

“Some dude? Some stranger you’ve been neglecting us to talk to?” Felicia added, taking a swallow of her brown liquor.

I’d begged my sisters to come out to our old neighborhood for a girls’ night to celebrate the new me.

While they begrudgingly agreed to accompany me, I got distracted early on by Lucky’s attention.

“Mama always said everybody is a stranger ‘til you get to know them.’ ” I reminded Felicia but she sucked her teeth.

“She was only flirting with the man.” Jada tucked a lock of her fire engine red dyed hair behind her oversized earring.

“Flirting can be dangerous for someone like Daniel.”

“It’s Danica and why is it so dangerous for a girl like me?”

I inquired.

“Nothing’s more dangerous than a lady with a man’s private parts,” Jada said with a shrug and a giggle.

“What do you think homeboy would do if he knew you were secretly smuggling sausage? Before you continue your little crying game, you should be warned how dangerous it 49 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

is.”

FELICIA NEVER FAILED TO remind me that no matter what hormones I took, I’d always be a gender bending freak and never a real woman. She then lightly stroked the scar across my chin with her thumb. “You of all people know better,” she whispered. I swiftly turned away, fearing that my sister had wiped away some of the makeup and exposed the ugliness that lied beneath. Like a drug fiend, I rummaged through my purse for my cosmetic accomplices. As I blotted away my shame, my mind recalled the events that scarred my chin and permanently stained my beauty.

Like every gay teenaged boy in this neighborhood, I made the mistake of falling for one of the beautiful braided domed boys. My adolescent mind fantasized that this delinquent shared my secret longing. Blame the choirboy face and post pubescent muscles, disguising this hoodlum as an angel among the halls of Malcolm X High School. Then one glorious day, the object of my desire slipped me a note asking to meet behind gym during a school dance. I’d convinced myself that he’d confess the same forbidden yearning I did.

When I got there, not just my crush, but also six of the boy’s friends greeted me. They gave my tiny tenth grade body the beating of its life, stomping and pounding at my frail frame as if they could beat the faggot out of me. I merely lay broken, accepting my destiny. After days in the hospital nursing my injuries and recounting the embarrassing ordeal for local law enforcement, no effort was made to press any charges. I was left with nothing but shame to avenge my broken heart until the moment that my 50 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

crush reintroduced himself at the bar tonight.

“Thank you for the painful walk down memory lane but I doubt I’ll even talk to him again,” I told Felicia.

“Good.” Felicia shook her empty glass before stomping across the busy dance floor for a refill. I watched as a few fitted capped heads turned at the sight of her wide hips samba across the dance floor. Straight men amazed me by how thirsty they were for sex. The average male didn’t care if a woman had her hair done, makeup or even if she was cute. Her worth was neatly enfolded between her legs. This lack of standards was the complete opposite of the judgmental world of gay men that I came from where imperfect creatures searched for a perfect love with the perfect body. I turned my attention to Jada.

“Why did we even bring Felicia? The world will show us we have faults. Why can’t she just be the person who lifts us up?” I asked.

“I’m glad she’s focusing all her energy towards you. I’ve got a lot going on with the girls and the shop. I’ve got an early day tomorrow so I’m going to head out early on you bitches. Besides, from what I hear you need to be her pet project.”

“Whatever you heard is because Felicia has a big mouth and my moving back in with her is only temporary.”

“I’m sure you wasted no time running to Felicia like the poor fragile little bird you are,” Felicia teased, poking her 51 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

pool stick at me. I swatted it away. Her comments made me feel like a brat. Yes, Felicia took us in when Mama abandoned us. Felicia quit college to finish raising her troubled teenaged siblings. That doesn’t mean she had to take her issues out on us or hoard her fancy job at the law firm over our heads. “So, Felicia’s memory might be foggy but I know exactly who that man is. That’s the same punk who put hands on you back in high school.”

“Yeah that’s Lucky. You think Felicia didn’t recognize him? Why else is she in such a bad mood?” I asked.

“She’s always in a bad mood. But what could you and Lucky have to talk about?”

“Apparently he thinks I’m beautiful…now.” I bit my bottom lip as I grinned.

“Don’t be dumb. It’s taking every ounce of my strength not to go crack this pool stick over that guy’s head. Lots of men you meet in bars will potentially love you in a matter of minutes. You will waste your life trying to live in those minutes. You haven’t been a woman long enough to understand just how fleeting that kind of love is.”

“I’ve been dealing with men my whole life, Jada. This ain’t my first time at the rodeo.”

“Yeah, you were a regular cowboy but how many bucks tossed in the dirt with only a wet rear and a broken heart? I have watched you allow man after man rip you apart until you finally broke down and became a woman. Trust me, 52 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

being female isn’t as glamorous as you think.”

“Your life isn’t exactly a romantic comedy either. Let’s not forget the bitter trail of slashed tires, spray paint and busted windows you’ve left around this city,” I reminded her.

Jada’s exploits with the father of her daughters were notorious. His cheating ways propelled her to many acts of vengeance. Only by the grace of God and Felicia’s boss had Jada’s discretions not caused her to lose her freedom or her successful hair salon.

“That’s because I’m not a victim. I got no respect for someone who won’t fight back. If you kill my dog, you better hide yo cat!”

“Well, I’m an adult now and I’ve moved on. What would opening up old wounds do?” My eyes lowered as I couldn’t look her in the face nor could I close them for fear of being visited by that memory again. Jada only continued.

“Maybe then you can really do some healing. You need to break him. Steal his manhood the same way he took yours behind that gym. Yeah, yeah, two wrongs don’t make a right but neither does one. Revenge may seem petty by the light of day but on some nights that can become justice! Tonight might just be one of those nights.”

I wanted to drown Jada’s words, disperse their heads in an ocean of unrelenting sound until their screams were muffled and they no longer reached for me. So I aggressively punched through the neon play list on the jukebox. The 53 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

machine rested in a bed of cobwebs and had no music released since the Clinton administration. After browsing through the divas, I selected my song. I slid in my crumpled dollar bill and the piano keys twinkled like stars giggling in the sky before Whitney Houston began belting how she was saving all her love.

I glided over to the dance floor swaying my hips and emoting every single note of longing. Feeling bigger than I was, I moved as if the words were lyrical manifestations of my soul. In my mind, I went down the list of all the men I’d once saved my own love for. Chance was the sweetest guy I’d ever met and would bring me flowers or other little surprises. Eventually those gifts only signified that Chance had once again gotten another woman pregnant. Now Angelo was the sexiest man I had ever seen and my body had the pleasure of soaking in the radiance of his. Things just strangely seemed to go missing around him. Nobody will ever love me like Gabriel. It didn’t take long for his passionate kisses to mutate into possessive and even violent. Gabriel only had to hit me once for me to run crying to move back in with Felicia.

Then my thoughts turned to Lucky, the tragic prototype that had that addictive elixir of dangerous beauty that all the false gods I fell to my knees for did. He looked just as angelic today, tempting me from across the room with those opaque eyes. Maybe it was this man’s arrogance to desire me, but suddenly Jada’s words had grabbed a hold of me and were dragging me below the surface.

“Join me.” I tugged at those large beige hands of Lucky’s.

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“Baby, thugs don’t slow dance. We bounce. We two-step but we never slow dance.”

“You’re right. What type of sissy takes a girl in his arms to a love song and makes her feel like the sexiest creature on the planet. Yep, that is gay.” I prayed my sarcasm wouldn’t go over his head. Suddenly Lucky reached over and pulled me close. His hips fell into rhythm with mine.

“Is that how you do it?”

The two of us rocked to the sultry sounds cascading from the speakers. His work boots and my heels clunked across the battered dance floor.

I’d waited over five years to be in this man’s arms and it was like we levitated. Lucky’s collar held the masculine aroma of motor oil and drug store body spray. My mother once told me that all of a woman’s troubles float away in the arms of a man. No truer words have ever came out of her mouth.

“So tell me something real, Lucky. All I’ve gotten from you have been lines.” I decided to start setting the bait. My mother also told me that men loved to think that they were in control. I had to convince Lucky that what was about to happen was his idea.

“I’ve been a hundred percent real with you all evening.

Stop confusing this spark between us as lines and accept the chemistry.”

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“Yeah, that’s the crap I’m talking about. That right there... lines!” I tilted my head back and laughed so hard that I bet he could smell the vodka on my breath. Lucky only pressed his rib cage deeper into my tender bosom and I felt all my energy shoot towards my dorsal region. I pretended to adjust my dress, forcing enough space between us to shield my growing excitement.

“When this song first came on, you had this look on your face. What were you thinking about?”

His wet whispers hit my ear at just the right Fahrenheit.

“Nothing. I just like it,” I said with a shake of my head.

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“Oh I thought maybe it was on your soundtrack.”

“My soundtrack?”

“Yeah, everybody has certain songs that when they hear them, they evoke a specific memory. If you compile all those songs then that’s your life’s soundtrack.”

“I’ve never heard that before. So what’s on yours?”

“Mmm, Mary J. Blige’s Not Gone Cry was playing the day the police took my Daddy away. My Grandmother always played Chaka Khan when she made breakfast. And Lauryn Hill was playing somewhere in the background the first time I was arrested.”

“God, do all your memories involve the police?” I retorted but his honesty gave me pause. His openness changed the mood and I’d also have to reveal something personal about myself to maintain this connection. I’d never had a problem attracting men. I knew how to be flirty and enticing.

It was when these encounters had to turn intimate that things got complicated. Intimacy was something that I was incapable of giving. I was the priceless figurine that men could admire but never take out of the case and see how tarnished and cracked I truly was. That’s why I’d mastered the art of the first night, where every small morsel of who I am that I offered could be painted up to resemble intimacy.

“You said you wanted something real. This part of the 57 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

city is 16 blocks of pain stacked on top of dysfunction. We’re all children of hurt, Danica. Let me know if I’m going to deep for you…” Lucky lifted his head as he’d offered a challenge.

I fully intended to step up but all my stories usually begin with, ‘I was so drunk,’ or ‘so we got back to his place.’ ” “Umm, I actually used to dance to this song when I was little,” I swallowed hard as I begin, like trying to wash down a ball of cotton. “I’d stumble into my mama’s oversized heels and sneak into her jewelry. Splattered in all her make up, I felt beautiful. I’d be free to swish into the living room and put on a show that would have put even Whitney to shame.

One day, my oldest sister came home early with her girlfriends and caught me. They found the whole scene hilarious but the disgust on my sister’s face made me never want to feel beautiful again.” I released that final breath like cigarette smoke as I’d just relived a memory with Lucky that I’d never told a soul.

“Why would your sister be ashamed of a little girl playing dress up?” Lucky’s face twisted in perplexity. My mind went turbo to think of a response that didn’t explain that the sight of her little brother prancing around like a grown woman repulsed Felicia.

“Oh shoot, the song is over,” I announced, relieved that my dollar was up.

“You’re not running away from me again, Cinderella. Are you going to turn into a pumpkin or something?”

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“You never know what I may turn into.”

“Come home with me tonight.”

I dropped my head in a sassy stance.

“Not like that,” Lucky promised.

“My mama says any lady that goes home with a man she’s just met is not a lady.”

“I’m not ready to say goodnight to you just yet.”

Those oil colored eyes of his pleaded but the curl of those lips was daring me. I guess that’s one rule that both Mama and I can’t seem to follow.

“You ready to go?” I asked Felicia, dreading my inevitable confession. The night had grown old enough to retire since Jada left. Felicia nodded crawling into her burly overcoat. I followed her lead, scurrying to zip my pink jacket and we immersed into the chill of the windy city’s January air. A small group of stragglers clustered outside on the pavement full of gray snow, sculpted with dirty footprints.

“You can ride the orange line home by yourself. I’m going home with a friend.” I muttered, almost inaudible over the traffic zooming down the icy street into a white haze of headlights and snow flurries. I prayed Felicia would be gone before Lucky came out.

“Hell no! You’re going home with that man. Daniel, I didn’t 59 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

spend my money on those damn pills for you to go from bending over for every man you meet to laying on your back.”

“Careful, you might say something offensive,” I reply to provoke her.

“I thought transitioning would instill some sense of pride in you. Apparently, those hormones aren’t even enough for you to get a real job or go back to college.” Felicia spoke through chattering teeth. Her hot words hung in the icy air before dissipating into the cold. She clung to her coat, pacing like a lioness in her cage.

“Taking your money didn’t mean that I would live my life the way you want.”

“Look, smart women don’t get comfortable with men in bars. They don’t go home with them. They don’t meet them behind school buildings.”

“People go home with strangers every night. Mama always said, ‘Life is full of risks. If you’re not taking a risk then you aren’t living.’ ” “Please, Mama was a whore and whores say things like that to excuse their whorish behavior. You don’t know how vulnerable a woman is when she’s alone with a man.”

“Like you said, I should understand better than anyone. I can still feel those boys’ hatred exploding into kicks and fists. Their ignorance marinated with cruelty to smack my 60 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

body so hard that my soul still can’t get up. So even as a male, I was always vulnerable.” The wavering melody of my voice only made Felicia’s icy stare focus in on me.

“Why does that boy look so familiar, Daniel? Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it. Forget about all that ugliness.”

I knew she recognized Lucky!

“That man hurt me, Felicia. The hole he carved in me is so deep that I’m still empty inside. All these years I’d fooled myself into thinking I’d set fire to the memory of that day.

Tonight, the smoke cleared when I saw him at the bar… smiling! He should never be allowed enough joy to smile. I’ll just combust unless that happiness turns to ash in his mouth.”

“You don’t think I’ve had folks hurt me? But I forgive people for being human. To be done wrong is nothing unless you continue to remember it. Stop living in your hurt so that you can finally grow from a victim to survivor.”

“I will never be a victim again. I’m going to take back everything Lucky stole from me and punish him for all the people who convinced me that I was something to be ashamed of.”

“Sounds like Lucky isn’t the only person you can’t forgive.” Felicia rolled her tongue to the other side of her mouth as if contemplating a riddle. “Proving others to be weak won’t make you stronger, trust me. I hope you find what you need and it grants you some peace. I’ll see you at 61 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

home, Danica.”

My reflex was to snap back, instead I inhaled my frustration and pulled out my compact. A dab of eye shadow had worn off, and I indulged in another coat. I watched from the corner of my eye as Felicia began the stride home and disappeared into the gray night.

Our steps landed on the hard snow encrusted sidewalk at the same pace. That rhythm carried through our conversation as Lucky pointed out notorious spots where the police had raided and houses where people had gotten shot. This type of information passed as small talk on this side of town.

I struggled to pay attention as my thoughts were clumped together like wads of used gum under a school desk. What the heck was I doing? I’d headed home with this man with nothing but motive and opportunity, no idea what I was going to do when we got there.

Razor sharp ice and wind made the journey more treacherous than the presence of the homeboys on the corner, vigilante as coyotes as they stood watch or the chemical dependents lurking beneath the shadows. Lucky and I passed an endless array of erect city brownstones that molested the broken sky before we got to his grandmother’s apartment. We climbed the arthritic steps to the third floor as the aroma of decayed mothballs and fresh Pine-sol engulfed me immediately.

Granny seemed to be somewhat of a hoarder.

The apartment was like an indoor garage sale and old62 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

fashioned furniture dominated the small space as if it were they who resided in the home and not the humans.

Scattered across the water stained walls were faded paintings; the Egyptian women with heads wrapped in scarves, Harriet Tubman’s wading through the waters of freedom with fellow runaways and an elegant portrait of First Lady Michele Obama. Lucky had promised that his Grandmother was out of town so we wouldn’t be disturbed.

Once inside his bedroom, my stare went directly to the framed picture of a little girl in pigtails with those same familiar eyes, the color of raven’s wings.

“That’s my daughter, Destiny,” Lucky told me.

“She is gorgeous.” I inspected the rest of the room to see that there wasn’t much else to see, except for an air mattress in the corner and a box television. My guess was that this was all Lucky owned.

“She lives with her mom on the north side. Guess that’s karma.”

“Oh, did you break her mother’s heart?”

“Let’s just say it takes a special type of woman to handle the temperature of a heart like mine. The only woman who could ever love me without being scalded is my grandmother. My ex attempted and the heat charred her insides to a crisp.” My left eyebrow lifted at his sudden poet explanation.

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“One night we had this argument and things got physical.

I swear on my child’s life that I didn’t hit her. When the police came, I guess protocol told them to lock up the man.”

I wasn’t sure if I truly believed him or believed him because he needed me to believe him. In a murky universe of Big Black Lies, his was a gorgeous high yellow one.

“I say it’s probably karma because there are plenty of crimes I’ve gotten away with. Then the one arrest that really messes up my life is for something I didn’t do… karma. You sure you want to hang around a guy like me?”

His tone was as pitiful as a stray puppy. I wanted to smear his face in the crap he’d made of his life. Instead, instincts propelled me to be Danica and remain the desert flower that pulled brothers, with chest full of rage and eyes allergic to tears out from the ugliness. Men in this neighborhood had the struggle etched into their existences like watermarks on an old photo. Trapped in ghetto life where welfare, rent checks and probation only reminded you every day that this world was not made for you. I related to that sentiment and it made them more desirable.

“You don’t see me going anywhere, do ya? We all do things that we regret. Heck, I should have asked you what song was playing that day. Did the song make it on your little soundtrack?” I quipped.

Lucky’s voice boomed into a laughter that brought me back to crowded high school hallways and busy cafeterias.

Then the angles of his face matured right before me to 64 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

become serious.

“Even if I’m not allowed to see my daughter right now, one day I’ll be able to tell her that she was the reason I became a better man and prove that I am not something to be ashamed of.”

Something suddenly possessed me. As if an evil spirit had taken hold, I felt myself reach for this man and kiss him.

My impulsive move had been both sloppy and clumsy. Our lips meet at an awkward intersection and I tasted more of his thin mustache than anything. Shocked, Lucky suddenly pushed away. I was wounded.

“I just thought…” I stammered. He stroked his temple and reconsidered.

“No, you thought right.” Lucky grabbed me and our mouths met again. This time, kissing Lucky was like losing time. His calloused hands explored my curves as I clawed at his slices of slim muscle covered in skin like satin. Lucky smiled that same innocent smile.

He took my hand and he held it. Then he cocooned himself around me and just held me. I allowed myself to melt into him while we lay there together, silent. Before long, we were both snoring the same melody.

I awoke to snowflakes falling to their death outside the ice-splattered window. Wiping my eyes, I rolled over to my nemesis’ sleeping face. Morning bled in like a gruesome massacre through the curtain less window, illuminating 65 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

every exquisite flaw in Lucky’s face. I admired the majesty of uneven tones, age cracks and unshaven scruff. The sight was as bright, as beautiful and as harsh as sunlight.

The boy I came to seek revenge upon had long withered away, only the skeleton of this broken man remained. What type of vulture would I be if I feasted on what was left of him? I squeezed out of bed and stumbled into my heels.

“Where you sneaking off to, woman?” Lucky’s sleepy rasp called out to me.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“Hold on, I’ll walk you.”

“No, stay. Last night was nice.”

“Then why are you still trying to run away?”

“I’ll call you, okay.”

“Dangerously in Love.”

“What?” The words sent a shock through my entire body.

I wanted to continue my escape from Lucky but those words glued my feet to the floor.

“That’s the song from our soundtrack. ‘Dangerously in Love by Beyonce’ was playing at the dance the night my boys and me tricked this skinny little gay kid and beat the crap out of him. I don’t even have a real reason as to why we 66 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

did it, just being angry little hoodlums searching for any lightning rod to absorb some of our frustrations.” Hearing Lucky admit what he did hit me harder than I expected. My core throbbed as if I had just been beaten all over again.

“Just stop. Please…” I pleaded, squinting to block the flood of hot tears. Instead, it was Lucky who began sobbing inconsolably.

“That kid wasn’t hurting anybody and what we did was messed up. His eyes looking up at me and begging me for some type of mercy, have taunted me during every low point of my life. One was green and one was brown, you never forget a pair like that.”

“I…” I searched the empty crevices of my mind for the right dialogue.

“It’s okay,” Lucky said, rubbing his wet cheeks red. “We all do things that we regret, like you said… Just promise me I will get that phone call, Danica.”

Apparently, I didn’t enchant Lucky. I was merely the tyrannies with the power to dissolve his guilt. While I didn’t have it in me to bury Lucky, I refused to absolve him. I couldn’t continue being that girl; ignoring my own sorrow and wiping another man’s tears. I’d forgiven him; not for him but for me.

So I forced a promising smile and walked out of the room.

As the bedroom door shut behind me, I realized that the type of anger that Lucky and I grew up in, harbored and somehow 67 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

survived, could never truly die but it could be laid to rest.

I sniffled before noticing a cracked mirror in the hallway.

Finding comfort in my own reflection, I solemnly adjusted my dress and put my hair back into place. I wiped away the smeared mascara as well as a dangling false eyelash. Then I opened my clutch to remove my make-up bag. Once my face was cleaned, I applied a fresh face.

With a good foundation base, I beat every scar and blemish to nonexistence. Then I highlighted my eyes and slid on that final touch of lip-gloss. With all that ugliness hidden, I was ready to once again face the world and to never tell a soul what’s hidden under this Covergirl.

Copyright © 2014 Anthony Green.

About the Author: ANTHONY GREEN is a published writer living in Nashville, TN. His first story, 'Pornography: A Modern Day Fairytale' was recently published in the Spring 2013 issue of ‘Black Magnolias Literary Journal.’ His style consists of urban tales that exist within the LGTB lifestyle. Anthony holds a BA in English and plans to receive a MFA soon. He can be contacted at Abgreen521@hotmail.com

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Matilda’s Morning KJ HANNAH GREENBERG HAROLD CAWED AS HE PRIED THE KAPOK LEAVES apart with his bill. Usually, he was preoccupied with anoles, but this morning, more than breakfast, he seemed intent on interrupting Matthew and me.

I frowned at him while flinging twigs in his direction.

“Rude!” I vocalized.

“Neighborly,” he volleyed, opening his wings to their full span before shaking off imaginary drops of dew. He closed them, snapped his tail forward and then settled in for an impromptu nap.

On another tree, Susie and Betsy, their red and green feathers singing the morning, spit seed husks to the forest floor. They squawked so much, I dropped my fruit to cover my ears.

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Exhaling, I tried to reestablish my equilibrium. I almost threw Matthew from the trees’ canopy, though, when Elaine, too, chimed in. She howled again and again before curling her tail tightly around a branch.

I nudged Matthew and then nudged him once more.

Something moving in the forest floor shadows. That something ought only to have been prowling at night.

“Get the berries yourself,” Matthew responded before covering his face with his paw.

“Harold!” I woke the sleeping toucan. “You like jaguars?”

“Not much.” He flew away.

The big cat circled the clump that included our tree. I clutched at Matthew.

“Go away,” he spat.

“Honey, someone wants to taste us.”

Matthew opened one simian eye. He looked into the shadows below. He roared. He threw sticks and bits of things from our nest.

The large cat fled.

I snuggled closer to Matthew.

Shortly, Harold was again parting kapok leaves with his bill.

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“Lookee! Over there,” he squawked.

I was afraid that the large cat might have returned. She had not. Instead, moving through the undergrowth was a snake of great proportion.

It wrapped its powerful body around our tree, and began to spiral up from the ground.

I poked Matthew and, for good measure, picked off a few of his tasty parasites. I gestured toward the base of our tree. He looked, but could not see the ascending snake.

I jumped from tree to tree until I got to one not attached to the others by any draping vine. Matthew shook his head and followed.

When the snake reached our nest, it found only fruit shells and our collection of preferred leaves. It slithered back down.

Harold flew over. “Don’t like snakes much, either.” He would have said more, but got distracted by a blue and black butterfly that had somehow found its way to the forest’s high foliage.

That bug, with Harold right behind it, flitted down from our treetops. Matthew scampered down, too. I saw him pause at the bottom to regard another colorful invertebrate.

I saw him disappear into the greenery.

I sighed, returned to our nest and began to tidy up from 71 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

the snake’s visit. Susie and Betsy flew over. They shuddered when asking about Matthew’s safety.

I shrugged and began to examine our possessions.

Sometimes, a larva or other treat crawled under one of our leaves.

Susie and Betsy continued to twitter their worry until I growled at them. They flew away.

Elaine, as well, asked after Matthew. I growled at her.

She quieted.

It began to rain. Every so often, a drop hit my head. The rest of the downpour, channeled by the vast growth of the forest, passed me by. I imagined it sliding down leaves and trunks until it collected far below in the appendages of plants that gathered moisture.

Later, Matthew returned. He spoke of all manners of critters. He mentioned other discoveries. Somewhere, down there, was a great rush of water that poured over the earth, making a sound louder than two apes sparring. That mighty blast had scared him, so he had run home, nearly tripping over a small, bright frog in the process.

I hugged him and stroked his head, helping myself to a few more of the delectable insects that had buried in his fur.

He whimpered a little of his tension away before easing.

Susie and Betsy flew by and chirped their relief that Matthew had come home. Elaine called out her welcome from her tree. Harold made an unkind remark.

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Once in a while, I feel inclined to visit the understory.

Never, though, have I purposefully visited the forest floor.

Less frequently, I’ve climbed high to the trees’ emergent layer. Few branches there, though, support my weight, and little food there is to my liking.

For the most part, I spend my mornings and the rest of my time in my neighborhood. Life is good here.

Copyright © June 6, 2014 KJ Hannah Greenberg.

About the Author:

KJ HANNAH GREENBERG is a published writer and author who channels gelatinous monsters and two-headed wildebeests. Among Hannah’s newest releases are: ‘The Immediacy of Emotional Kerfuffles’ (Bards and Sages Publishing, 2013), and ‘Citrus-Inspired Ceramics’ (Aldrich Press, 2013).

She can be contacted at drkarenjoy@yahoo.com

HELPFUL ARTICLES FOR YOU!

73 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Where Nonfiction Articles with Helpful Information & Tips of All Kinds Can be found! Also general Informative Articles!

74 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Indie Attitude C HOPE CLARK Author of “Lowcountry Bribe,” “Tidewater Murder” and “Palmetto Poison” (A Carolina Slade Mystery Series) WHILE I’M ON A JOEL FRIEDLANDER HIGH (last week's issue), I had to sink my teeth into a piece he had on his blog recently. http://www.thebookdesigner.com/2014/05/thesecret-sauce-for-indie-publishers-attitude/ (NOTE: Did you see last week's special offer for his formatting templates that make your books look awesomely professional and polished? Joel has created coupon code FFW35 for FFW readers. When you use FFW35 at BookDesignTemplates.com you get a 35% discount on anything on the site. Coupon expires on June 10.)

The blog post was titled The Secret Sauce for Indie Publishers: Attitude. Nina Amir was the author of that post, and she advised that an Indie attitude needed to consist of: 1) 2) 3) 4)

Willingness Optimism Objectivity Tenacity

I loved reading the comments afterwards, some from readers who obviously were not interested in an attitude adjustment, preferring to remain in their I-can't-do-this or you-have-to-know-somebody mindset.

Actually, the Indie attitude is just a healthy attitude toward life. You don't have to be a writer, and your attitude doesn't have to be about writing. And if you want to take attitude and boil it down to one word, you can stop with the first in 75 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Nina Amir's list: WILLINGNESS. If you are willing to do whatever it takes to change, try new things, learn new ways, attempt trial and error, and write until you figure out how to play this game and make a living at it, it just might happen.

I had a long conversation with my editor the other day about more books, a new series, and how I view my writing career.

In the exchange, I let her know that whether I'm published or not, I'll write my stories. And if I cannot find a publisher, I'll self-publish. It's just what I do, and I'll adapt to whatever I need to in order to keep doing what I'm doing. She was impressed at my "attitude" toward the future. Frankly, I see my future no other way.

Why not be willing to adapt . . . when it makes me better or more successful? Why not learn new ways . . . if old ones have quit working? Why not step outside my comfort zone . . . if staying inside it confines me to a routine that isn't moving me forward?

It's all attitude. You've met those people in your life, the ones with a great outlook and a willingness to improve. They are exciting to be around.

So why can't that be you? ~HOPE Copyright © May 2014 C. Hope Clark.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: C. HOPE CLARK is editor of FundsforWriters.com (Writer’s Digest 101 Best Websites for Writers: 2001-2014), and the author of the ‘Carolina Slade Mystery Series:’ www.chopeclark.com BLOG - http://www.chopeclark.com/blog TWITTER - http://twitter.com/hopeclark 76 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

FACEBOOK - http://www.facebook.com/chopeclark GOODREADS - http://www.goodreads.com/hopeclark ===================================================================

The Pears Cyclopedia 2013-14 Edition SAM VAKNIN Author of "Malignant Self-love: Narcissism Revisited"

I KEEP BEING ASTOUNDED by the extent to which this one volume Cyclopaedia is maintained meticulously up to date by a dedicated team of scholar-contributors, headed by the indefatigable polymath, Dr. Chris Cook. Hundreds of entries in dozens of sections reflect the latest developments and knowledge in numerous areas of life.

The 2012-2013 edition of Pears Cyclopaedia was the first major revision in some time. It added considerable heft to veteran chapters as well as re-introduced categories of knowledge from previous editions.

This 2013-4 edition follows in its footsteps and is augmented with a Biblical Glossary.

The “Chronicle of Events” is brought up to February 2013. The “Prominent People” section has been updated to include, for instance, Obama's re-election "narrow but decisive" victory and Thatcher's passing away.

The “Background to World Affairs” – a compilation of monographs about the history and societies of the regions of the globe - is indispensable: it is as updated as an online blog and as thorough as an encyclopedia. In conjunction with “The Historical World” it provides a comprehensive 77 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

resource, with a separate chapter covering historic Britain and a special topic encompassing the History and Development of the European Union.

"Britain Today" has been completely re-written to include a Who’s Who in British Politics and a glossary as well as an overview of the British constitution and system of government. The “General Compendium” is a cornucopia of tables and data and delectable lists, some useful, some quaint: English and Scottish monarchs, the order of succession, Prime Ministers since 1721, US Presidents, Popes since 1800, Archbishops of Canterbury and York, traditional ranks in the armed forces, Roman rulers and towns, national currencies, the international time-table, Nobel Prize winners, new words, major literary prizes, Roman numerals, the Chinese and Hindu calendars, foreign phrases, the Greek alphabet, famous ships, glossary of drinks, coffee and tea, common legal terms, military anniversaries, signs of the zodiac, the current tax rates, and much much more besides.

The venerable and popular section “Myths and Legends” now covers not only Greece and Rome, but also Norse mythology. Pears provides a constantly-updated survey of “Ideas and Beliefs” throughout the centuries. The entry about Christianity, for example, notes the persecution that Christians face in many countries, with a detailed list of these in toe. Regrettably, the Gazetteer of the British Isles is all that remains from the once excellent Atlas. It is followed by a much enlarged “General Information” gateway: a mini cyclopaedia with hundreds of listings pertaining to all fields of human knowledge, from astronomy and architecture to 78 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

zoology. The entries are scrupulously au courant: under "Television" one learns about the next trend: UHDTV. To augment these magnificent offerings, Pears Cyclopaedia provides a “Literary Companion” (outline of English literature arranged as a chronological survey, replete with biographical and bibliographic entries); an “Introduction to Art and Architecture” (key terms, movements, and styles); “The World of Music” (outline historical narrative, glossary of musical terms, and index to composers); “The Cinema” (its history and famous actors and directors as well as a glossary of key terms and list of Oscar winners up to and including 2012).

A revamped section “Life and Leisure” now comprises “The World of Wine”, “The World of Dance”, and a special topic, “The Great Outdoors.” This is seamlessly followed by a “Sporting Almanac.” The “World of Science” proffers coverage of diverse fields such as astronomy, physics, chemistry, geology, biology, and human evolution. It also comprises a variety of scientific tables. Medicine merits its own gateway, inevitably titled “Medical Matters”: the most common illnesses and conditions, some of them treated to in-depth analyses within special topics. A subject index caps this wondrous work of reference.

"Affection" and "attachment" are terms rarely used in a review of a reference title, but, they are the ones that come to my mind as I contemplate the new (2013-2014) edition of Pears Cyclopaedia, one of many editions I possess. I confess to my addiction proudly: control freak that I am, I like to hold the Universe of Knowledge in the palm of my hand, in a 79 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

manageable, pocket-sized form.

What renders this single volume unique is not that it is a cornucopia of facts (which it is, abundantly and lavishly so), but that it arranges them lovingly in patterns and narratives and, thus, endows them with sense and sensibility. It is at once an erudite friend, a mischievous iconoclast, a legend to our times, the sum total of human knowledge in a rich variety of fields, and a treasure-trove of trivia and miscellany. It is as compellingly readable as the best nonfiction, as comprehensive as you need it to be, and as diverting as a parlour game. It is both quaint and modern in the best senses of these loaded words.

Pears Cyclopaedia is a labour of love and it shows. Its current editor (formerly its Assistant Editor), Christopher Cook, has been at it for decades now. Annually, he springs a delicious surprise on the avid cult that is the readership of Pears Cyclopaedia: new topics that range from wine connoisseurship to gardening. This edition is not an exception, though the surprises are within the chapters.

At more than 1000 pages, Pears Cyclopaedia is a bargain.

Alas, its distribution leaves something to be desired. I have spent the better part of a long afternoon searching for it in vain in London's bookshops. Last time I had it ordered in Europe, I waited for months on end for its arrival. It is also not exactly available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. It should be. Pears Cyclopaedia is wonderful, in the true meaning of this word: it is full of wonders and, therefore, is itself a wonder.

DISCLAIMER: I have purchased every single edition of Pears 80 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Cyclopaedia that I possess, except the last four, which were provided to me, as review copies, courtesy Penguin/Alan Lane.

Copyright © October 3, 2013 Sam Vaknin. =====================================

The Narcissist’s Conflicted Relationship with His Fans, Followers, and Admirers SAM VAKNIN Author of "Malignant Self-love: Narcissism Revisited" THE NARCISSIST DEPENDS ON HIS coterie for narcissistic supply. He resents this addictive dependence and himself for being so frail and impotent. It negates his self-delusional grandiose fantasy of omnipotence.

To compensate for this shameful neediness, the narcissist holds his sycophantic acolytes in contempt. He finds his fans, admirers, and followers repulsive and holds them to be inferior.

He sees himself reflected in their presumptuousness and sense of entitlement and resents this constant and tawdry reminder.

Fans often claim to possess inside information about their idol and to have special rights to privileged access simply by virtue of their unbridled adulation and time-tested loyalty.

But, the narcissist, not being a mere mortal, believes himself to be beyond human comprehension and refuses to render anyone special by granting him or her concessions 81 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

denied to others. Being special is his exclusive prerogative.

His followers conduct implies a certain egalitarian camaraderie which the narcissist finds abhorrent, humiliating, and infuriating.

Groupies and hangers-on somehow fancy themselves entitled to the narcissist’s favour and largesse, his time, attention, and other resources. They convince themselves that they are exempt from the narcissist’s rage and wrath and immune to his vagaries and abuse. This self-imputed and self-conferred status irritates the narcissist no end as it challenges and encroaches on his standing as the only source of preferential treatment and the sole decisionmaker when it comes to the allocation of his precious and cosmically significant wherewithal.

The narcissist is the guru at the centre of a cult. Like other gurus, he demands complete obedience from his flock: his spouse, his offspring, other family members, friends, and colleagues. He feels entitled to adulation and special treatment by his followers. He punishes the wayward and the straying lambs. He enforces discipline, adherence to his teachings, and common goals. The less accomplished he is in reality – the more stringent his mastery and the more pervasive the brainwashing.

Cult leaders are narcissists who failed in their mission to "be someone", to become famous, and to impress the world with their uniqueness, talents, traits, and skills. Such disgruntled narcissists withdraw into a "zone of comfort" (known as the "Pathological Narcissistic Space") that assumes the hallmarks of a cult.

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The – often involuntary – members of the narcissist's minicult inhabit a twilight zone of his own construction. He imposes on them an exclusionary or inclusionary shared psychosis, replete with persecutory delusions, "enemies", mythical-grandiose narratives, and apocalyptic scenarios if he is flouted.

Exclusionary shared psychosis involves the physical and emotional isolation of the narcissist and his “flock” (spouse, children, fans, and friends) from the outside world in order to better shield them from imminent threats and hostile intentions. Inclusionary shared psychosis revolves around attempts to spread the narcissist’s message in a missionary fashion among friends, colleagues, co-workers, fans, churchgoers, and anyone else who comes across the minicult.

The narcissist's control is based on ambiguity, unpredictability, fuzziness, and ambient abuse. His evershifting whims exclusively define right versus wrong, desirable and unwanted, what is to be pursued and what to be avoided. He alone determines the rights and obligations of his disciples and alters them at will.

The narcissist is a micro-manager. He exerts control over the minutest details and behaviours. He punishes severely and abuses withholders of information and those who fail to conform to his wishes and goals.

The narcissist does not respect the boundaries and privacy of his reluctant adherents. He ignores their wishes and 83 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

treats them as objects or instruments of gratification. He seeks to control both situations and people compulsively.

He strongly disapproves of others' personal autonomy and independence. Even innocuous activities, such as meeting a friend or visiting one's family require his permission.

Gradually, he isolates his nearest and dearest until they are fully dependent on him emotionally, sexually, financially, and socially.

He acts in a patronising and condescending manner and criticises often. He alternates between emphasising the minutest faults (devalues) and exaggerating the talents, traits, and skills (idealises) of the members of his cult. He is wildly unrealistic in his expectations – which legitimises his subsequent abusive conduct.

The narcissist claims to be infallible, superior, talented, skilful, omnipotent, and omniscient. He often lies and confabulates to support these unfounded claims. Within his cult, he expects awe, admiration, adulation, and constant attention commensurate with his outlandish stories and assertions. He reinterprets reality to fit his fantasies.

His thinking is dogmatic, rigid, and doctrinaire. He does not countenance free thought, pluralism, or free speech and doesn't brook criticism and disagreement. He demands – and often gets – complete trust and the relegation to his capable hands of all decision-making.

He forces the participants in his cult to be hostile to critics, the authorities, institutions, his personal enemies, or the 84 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

media – if they try to uncover his actions and reveal the truth. He closely monitors and censors information from the outside, exposing his captive audience only to selective data and analyses.

The narcissist's cult is "missionary" and "imperialistic". He is always on the lookout for new recruits – his spouse's friends, his daughter's girlfriends, his neighbours, new colleagues at work. He immediately attempts to "convert" them to his "creed" – to convince them how wonderful and admirable he is. In other words, he tries to render them Sources of narcissistic supply.

Often, his behaviour on these "recruiting missions" is different to his conduct within the "cult". In the first phases of wooing new admirers and proselytising to potential "conscripts" – the narcissist is attentive, compassionate, empathic, flexible, self-effacing, and helpful. At home, among the "veterans" he is tyrannical, demanding, wilful, opinionated, aggressive, and exploitative.

As the leader of his congregation, the narcissist feels entitled to special amenities and benefits not accorded the "rank and file". He expects to be waited on hand and foot, to make free use of everyone's money and dispose of their assets liberally, and to be cynically exempt from the rules that he himself established (if such violation is pleasurable or gainful).

In extreme cases, the narcissist feels above the law – any kind of law. This grandiose and haughty conviction leads to criminal acts, incestuous or polygamous relationships, and recurrent friction with the authorities.

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Hence the narcissist's panicky and sometimes violent reactions to "dropouts" from his cult. There's a lot going on that the narcissist wants kept under wraps. Moreover, the narcissist stabilises his fluctuating sense of self-worth by deriving Narcissistic Supply from his victims. Abandonment threatens the narcissist's precariously balanced personality.

Add to that the narcissist's paranoid and schizoid tendencies, his lack of introspective self-awareness, and his stunted sense of humour (lack of self-deprecation) and the risks to the grudging members of his cult are clear.

The narcissist sees enemies and conspiracies everywhere.

He often casts himself as the heroic victim (martyr) of dark and stupendous forces. In every deviation from his tenets he espies malevolent and ominous subversion. He, therefore, is bent on disempowering his devotees. By any and all means.

The narcissist is dangerous.

Copyright © October 2013 Sam Vaknin. =================================== ABOUT THE AUTHOR: SAM VAKNIN ( http://samvak.tripod.com ) is the author of “Malignant Self-Love: Narcissism Revisited” and “After the Rain - How the West Lost the East”, as well as many other books and E-books about topics in psychology, relationships, philosophy, economics, and international affairs. He is the Editor-in-Chief of “Global Politician” and served as a columnist for “Central Europe Review”, “PopMatters”, “eBook Web”, and “Bella Online”, and as a United Press International (UPI) Senior Business Correspondent. He was 86 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

the editor of Mental Health and Central East Europe categories in The Open Directory and Suite101. Visit Sam's website at http://www.narcissistic-abuse.com __________________________________________________________________ _______________________________

87 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

COFFEE HOUSE 4 POETRY LOVERS CORNER

Bringing You Poems (Classical and contemporary) And Haikus for the Poet in You!

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Twilight Love DEBORAH ANNE SHEPARD THUS SHE CALLS TO THE REVERED SKIES “With each fading light His sacred light comes His being called His love” He carries thus, the winged angel being my love, It knows no bounds as the lovely Sovereign Angel cloud awakens, you appeared to me

Each mystical catalyst emerges to one cocoon light Shimmering wings, soft and spiritual each night

Visions quest her benevolent one returns in the twilight Look closely as His spirit merges with one Aquarian love: He returns the tribal legend brings her regal flight Inspiration body, soul, and mind

Timeless quest He journeys each night to her He waits each twilight, their love so real.

By DEBORAH ANNE SHEPARD 89 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Copyright © October 2013.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: DEBORAH SHEPARD is a published author, poet and writer whose poems tell a story of dreams we have and the beauty of traveling in them to give us belief, hope, and life. Deborah says, “Poetry is my heart soul, although my work is with children as an Educational Tech.”

She currently has a book of poetry out titled “The Pages of Time”, which is available to purchase on the website of her book cover artist: Jennifer Singleton, a Fantasy Artist; or at www.publishamerica.com and Barnes&Noble.com. She was born in Carmel, California, and is now happily married with one beautiful son (who resides in South Carolina). She has been working as a Teacher since 1977, once worked as a Caterer before that, and now works as a Teacher again (aka an Educational Tech).

Deborah has earned a Child Development Degree, and is currently working on an Associate Degree, and a second book. She can be reached at: AngelRainbowne@aol.com Deborah also says, “I am currently working on my vampire novel and poetry books. To come out soon.” __________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________

Hopeless THOMAS BRYANT 90 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

I WAS MESMERIZED WITH YOUR SILKY Smooth skin and your dazzling smile.

But it was your flirting wink…

You’re not too far from my league, At least that's what I started to think.

Your eyes fired an opalescent play of color And your full rich ruby red lips so inviting, so divine.

You walked by with such grace and elegance, I noticed every tilt, dip and mouthwatering swing of your heart-shaped hips.

You moved to a smoky rhythm.

You moved to a driving beat, When you saw me looking you up and down, From your head to your feet.

You are like an insanely sexy song That I whistle when you walk.

Even when I try to turn away, 91 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

My eyes continue to follow along.

By THOMAS BRYANT Copyright © April 2014 Thomas Bryant.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: THOMAS BRYANT received his education at Cal Baptist University in Riverside, California. While studying political science, he began a love affair with books and discovered a passion for writing. Coming from humble beginnings with economic demands, he took an internship in the service industry as a heavy-duty diesel mechanic, which left him little time for books or writing.

He sought challenges, including baseball, football and wrestling as a young man and loved speed on the water in a flat bottom race boat called BORN to be WILD. Two weeks before he entered Arizona Bail Enforcement Academy to become a licensed Bounty Hunter, he was involved in a near fatal crash.

Disabled and facing his toughest challenge, he returned to his first love of poetry and found a whole new world as a novelist, authoring the Sammy Page thriller series; including the romantic thriller, ‘Passionate Plea,’ and soon-to-bereleased, ‘Mental Revenge.’ He currently resides in the Ozarks of Missouri in the USA. He can be contacted at paperback_writer48@yahoo.com Author's website: www.sammypage.com Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorthomasbryant Twitter: www.twitter.com/ThomasABryant __________________________________________________________________ __________________________ 92 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

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Moon REHAN QAYOOM BOTH TRAVELLERS But with one destiny Mine to be alone on Earth yours to be suspended in space

By REHAN QAYOOM Copyright © April 2014.

******

Duty REHAN QAYOOM ‘SWEETHEART! I regret I cannot come to you this weekend again I’ve some important business to see to!’

Darling!

I have understood your business 94 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Perhaps your Chief Director’s wife is alone Again this weekend.

By REHAN QAYOOM Copyright © April 2014.

******

Revelation REHAN QAYOOM

NARRATED AISHA (MOTHER OF THE FAITHFUL): 'The commencement of the Divine Inspiration To Allah's Apostle was in the form of good dreams Which came true like bright daylight, And then the love of seclusion was bestowed upon him.

He used to go in seclusion in the cave of Hira Where he used to worship continuously For many days before his desire to see his family.

He used to take with him the journey food for the stay And then come back to [his wife] Khadija to take his food like-wise again till suddenly the Truth Descended upon him while he was in the cave of Hira.

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The Angel came to him and asked him to read.

The Prophet replied 'I do not know how to read.'

The Prophet added 'The angel caught me forcefully and pressed me so hard that I could not bear it any more.

He then released me and again asked me to read and I replied 'I do not know how to read.'

Thereupon he caught me again and pressed me a second time till I could not bear it anymore and passed out.

He then released me and again asked me to read but again I replied 'I do not know how to read (or what shall I read)?'

Thereupon he caught me for the third time and pressed me, and then released me and said 'Recite -- In the name of thy Lord. Who created everyone.

Who created Mankind of coagulated blood.

Recite (for) Thy Lord is the Noblest One.' (al-Bukhari, Imam abu-Abdullah Muhammad bin-Ismael.

'Sahih Bukhari: Book of Revelation').

It was such a strange time when all form of worship was bleary-eyed 96 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

and all devotion had completely lost its vision People beseeched blessings and benediction from idols their own hands had carved!

But one who had yet to recognise himself was involved in a canny problem so he bore the cross of such insatiate grieves He is not of them, who would he be Far from the city of Azar He granted all his moments in time to the dreamy stillness of the cave of Hira To taste the tormenting agonies of anonymity This was the meditation of thought As well as an affirmation of an invisible spirit of Complete Being That night was another night of secrets The surroundings were muted Just for the moment and the necks of the winds Were severed from their bodies the heartbeat of the stars had momentarily paused As if the pulse of their very existence had ceased!

And the receding moments were stilled into fright 97 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

There and then a light echoed with all the colours Of Beauty and Majesty 'Recite!'

'I don't recite!'

'Recite!'

'I don't recite!'

'Recite!' '(But) what shall I recite?'

Recite - In the name of thy Lord Who created everyone Who created Mankind of coagulated blood Recite (for) Thy Lord is the Noblest One (And) Who taught by the pen He alone taught mankind What it did not know ......'

The dumb surroundings seemed to echo with chanting Recite All those words, which had been swept away In the dark deluge of evil Began journeying back Upon waves of light Suns of awareness descended 98 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Into the casement of vacuity In that one moment My Unlettered One Had become a city of knowledge!

By REHAN QAYOOM Copyright © April 2014.

******

To A Friend REHAN QAYOOM Girl! These moments are clouds You let them pass and they're gone Soak up their moist touch Don't waste a single drop Drench yourself for as long as Your inner Earth remains thirsty Listen to me, learn from me Downpours don't remember their way back The summer brightness you go out to dry your hair in Cannot read the road signs!

By REHAN QAYOOM 99 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Copyright © April 2014.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: REHAN QAYOOM is a poet, an editor and a translator who was educated at Birkbeck College, University of London. He has featured in numerous literary publications and performed his work at international venues. He is the author of “Prose 1997 – 2008” (2009) and “About Time” (2011) and the translator and editor of several other works. He can be contacted at rehanqayoom@hotmail.com or at www.rehanqayoompoet.blogspot.co.uk

100 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

OFF THE PRESS! Take a look at the BEST

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101 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

102 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

For more info about Award Winning Poet, Entrepreneur, Writer and Visionary DARREN B. RANKINS’ Poetry Contest for his “Pure Thoughts” Book Anthology, click on the graphic above and it will take you to his website. If the graphic doesn’t take you to Darren’s website (or isn’t showing up for some reason), please click on either of these links below instead: www.purethoughts.info Poet Rankins http://www.fox17.com/newsroom/features/jefferson_awards/ WZTV FOX 17: Newsroom - Welcome to the Jefferson Awards! www.fox17.com WZTV FOX 17: Jefferson Awards! - The Jefferson Awards are a prestigious national recognition system honoring community and public service in America. The awards are presented on two levels: national and local. They began in 1972 to create a Nobel Prize for public service and today serve as a “Call...

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A Telltale Secret by MJ Rain (aka Melissa Lorraine Gulick)

Five Keys. Two Parallel Universes. One Destiny.

Willow Rain lives in a seemingly perfect world with her 104 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

sister and their nanny, on a planet where those who are deemed useless seem to vanish without a trace, along with those who speak of the forbidden keys.

When she gets her chance to be of use, she begins on the path to her destiny when the magical key from her dreams is set in her possession. With it, she embarks on a journey to another world in search of her parents and slowly she uncovers the mysteries that surround her family's past, present, and future.

When she uncovers the deepest secret of them all, the difficult path ahead of her reveals the true purpose of her life. Come with me and discover what became of the people of Atlantis!

About the Author:

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MJ Rain (aka Melissa Lorraine Gulick) is a woman, a wife, an activist, and a published author. She lives in Iowa in the USA with her husband, her mother, and her Siamese cat. Mj’s passion is to have a major impact on the world by causing a positive change through her writing. She has always made her presence known for causes she believes in, and plans to continue doing so as she expresses herself through words. Stay tuned for Book 2 of Mj’s A Telltale Destiny book series; ‘A Telltale Secret’ is Book 1. Mj Rain’s Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mj-Rain/517670434943373 Mj Rain’s Novel Blog: http://mjrainwriter.wordpress.com/

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Passionate Plea

By Thomas Bryant

Sammy Page is a wonderfully loving husband, dedicated father and a lifelong professional thief, who survives a nearfatal crash while trying to deliver a luxury liner to a wealthy client.

He awakens in Buckskin Canyon nudist camp amnesiac and 107 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

unaware that he’s being hunted for a double homicide; when law enforcement attempts to notify the owners of the Island Princess, rolled over on the side of the road and finds them, still in bed, brutally murdered…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

THOMAS BRYANT received his education at Cal Baptist University in Riverside, California. While studying political science, he began a love affair with books and discovered a passion for writing. Coming from humble beginnings with economic demands, he took an internship in the service industry as a heavy-duty diesel mechanic, which left him little time for books or writing.

He sought challenges, including baseball, football and wrestling as a young man and loved speed on the water in a flat bottom race boat called BORN to be WILD. Two weeks before he entered Arizona Bail Enforcement Academy to become a licensed Bounty Hunter, he was involved in a near fatal crash.

Disabled and facing his toughest challenge, he returned to his first love of poetry and found a whole new world as a novelist, authoring the Sammy Page thriller series; including the romantic thriller, ‘Passionate Plea,’ and soon-to-bereleased, ‘Mental Revenge.’ He currently resides in the Ozarks of Missouri in the USA. Author's website: www.sammypage.com Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorthomasbryant and Twitter: www.twitter.com/ThomasABryant

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__________________________________________________________________ ____________________ Fictional Dramatic, Suspenseful Novels

By NANETTE M. BUCHANAN Skeletons beyond the Closed Door Gossip Line And Bonded Betrayal

BONDED BETRAYAL BY NANETTE M. BUCHANAN On YouTube: http://youtube.com/adQMmt9t4Kw

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About Bonded Betrayal: There’s a cliché that states one should not date their best friend. Whatever the reasons, the fear of losing a friendship or not finding true love; most use this cliché as a golden rule. Six friends from McKinley High reunite for their ten year class reunion.

The group was put on a pedestal, both Dante Jefferson and Kalliah Carter were voted ‘most likely to succeed’; Stephon Drake was voted ‘most athletic'; Miles Baker was the President of the Student Body; Cherese Taylor was the captain of the Cheerleading Squad; and Brianne Gibson was in the National Honor Society.

The memories of their past include deep rooted issues they avoided during those years of mixed experiences. Their class reunion promises to fulfill Kalliah’s need for a vacation from her job and a shaky romance, while Dante needs to explore the remnants of their relationship before making a serious commitment to another.

Stephon must take his life back from the street and crime he’s become addicted to. Miles is hoping to finally tell his friends how one of them has held his heart for more than ten years. Cherese needs the support of her friends as she struggles to find her way out of a destructive marriage.

Brianne must disclose her horrible high school encounter that would change how they all feel about her and those they are now connected and committed to. The reunion rekindles their friendships, and proves their relationships with each weakness, has its own strengths.

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Get Your Autographed Copy of ‘Bonded Betrayal’

BY NANETTE M. BUCHANAN; www.ipendesigns.net for purchase.

Nanette M. Buchanan’s novel, Gossip Line, is also available Get Your Copy here Today!

About Gossip Line by Nanette M. Buchanan: 111 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

A new beginning is what Melinda Wells was seeking when she left her home in Mobile, Alabama. As a journalist, her dream of writing for a large newspaper would never become a reality having the experience the Mobile Register offered. Melinda embraced the thought of moving to New York, landing her job as a journalist in Manhattan, and her new love interest Jerome Belmont, despite her father and grandmother’s warnings.

Melinda’s rise in journalism took a back seat to her growing interest in talk radio. When her southern charms secured an opportunity to host her own show in her boyfriend’s hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Melinda knew her dreams were becoming a reality. The new “Radio Diva’s” dream came with a price.

Her new lifestyle became more than what Melinda expected.

After climbing the ladder of what the industry labeled as well deserved success it all was falling apart. Gossip Line, the radio talk show that named her as the number one host on the Pennsylvania airwaves, was threatening to ruin her dreams.

Her family background that she knew little about, and her fairy tale love life was being aired on the radio one piece at a time.

Melinda needed to find the caller who knew more about her than she seemed to know about herself.

However, revealing the caller’s identity could be fatal to more than the show.

Let I Pen Designs know your opinion of the other novels by Author Nanette M. Buchanan….. ‘Family Secrets Lies & Alibis,’ the Sequel... ‘A Different Kind of Love,’ and ‘Bruised Love.’

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Skeletons Beyond the Closed Door…

About Skeletons beyond the Closed Door by Nanette M. Buchanan: Brian and Sage Drakeford were living their life as a loving couple and devoted parents until Sage caught her husband cheating. Seven years after their divorce, Sage Monroe Drakeford finds it hard to love again. As skeletons from her husband’s past resurface, Brian desperately wants to remain a part of his family’s life.

After meeting a client who expresses his feelings for her and his knowledge of her husband’s secrets, Sage fights to ignore her emotional attachment. It is apparent Brian has 113 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

moved on and jealousy becomes a reason for Sage to consider dating. Just as she decides Brian is not worth her putting her life on hold, his indiscretions become more than she is willing to accept.

Sage is caught between ruining Brian’s relationships with family, business and friends, and moving on with a new love, and forgetting the past. Sage’s decision and Brian’s choices will change their lives forever.

All Are Available to Order on Nanette’s Website “I Pen Designs.net” at: www.ipendesigns.net or www.myspace.com/ipendesigns Also stay in contact with the author by checking out her “WHAT'S HAPPENING” page at: http://www.ipendesigns.net/

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: An Author with New Drama, Page after Page…

NANETTE M. BUCHANAN was born, raised, and educated in Newark, New Jersey, USA. After graduating from Arts High School in Newark, she attended Rutgers University in New Brunswick, New Jersey. It was then that she first set her pen to pad; written expressions of her love for poetry. She is a proud mother, wife and grandmother, now residing in Somerset, New Jersey, and employed with the State of New Jersey as a Sergeant in the Department of Corrections.

Her pad to pen accomplishments include three volumes of poetry; “Thoughts,” “Thoughts & Reflections,” and “Quiet Times;” five yet to be published children stories as well as several unpublished novels. Nanette’s first published work and debut novel was “Family Secrets….Lies & Alibis”.

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Since then the publication of the sequel, “A Different Kind of Love” and the release of her first volume of poetry, “Thoughts” an e-book hit the market. In October of 2009, Nanette’s murder mystery, “Bruised Love” followed by “Skeletons beyond the Closed Door” which was released in August of 2010. At the start of the summer in 2011, her latest novel “Gossip Line” made its debut. Her preferred genre’ is romantic fiction, but readers will attest to the fact that they all have suspense, mystery and a dramatic twist.

It is her goal to become a successful author without limits; writing and producing plays that feature her poems as well as adaptations of her novels on the “big screen” are in her future.

Nanette is deeply committed to promoting literacy. She is an intricate part of “The Author’s Den” a group of authors, poets and performing artists who are promoting their talents and raising funds to support Literary and the Performing Arts within communities. The author is available for personal appearances, chats and signings.

Fiction Novels

By ROSE ANNA SCHOENE Absolutely the Last Resort Where Are You? And But! I’ve Always Loved You But! I’ve Always Loved You, Rose Anna’s third book, is about stunning Jessie who is raped at twelve and bears a son who is then taken from her. As she grows up she is repulsed by 115 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

men until she meets devastatingly handsome André, who offers her a forbidden love amidst magical, romantic Rome.

Jessie’s loyal friend Debbie is always there for steadfastly aiding her in her lifelong quest to find the she gave birth to at thirteen and her quest to find that true love. Will Jessie succumb to André’s charm? Will ever find her son?

her; son one she

******

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: ROSE ANNA SCHOENE is a native New Yorker who made her writing debut with Absolutely the Last Resort, a charming and nostalgic family-oriented book, which fictionalizes many of the author’s personal experiences owning a resort in the Catskill Mountains of New York for over 30 years. This book reflects just one aspect of the author’s life and creative talents, and introduces us to her artistic and comedic nature. She has a writing style that is both entertaining and uplifting which reflects Rose Anna’s true writing persona; yet she proves the versatility of her literary scope with her second novel, Where Are You?, which offers a serious, dramatic and paranormal-love storyline, and her third novel, But! I’ve Always Loved You. Where Are You?, Rose Anna’s second book, is about Dr. Joy Evans and Dr. Dean Judson, who collide in the corridors of St. John’s Hospital—their introduction is the beginning of a torrid and tender love. Two weeks later, they are married and in six months they relocate to the state of Pennsylvania, where Dean takes over the practice of a retiring Doctor and feels that his ambitions have been fulfilled.

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But when Joy does not return from a quick errand to the store and her car is later found, Dr. Dean Judson’s entire life takes a plunge into despair. Then strangely, Dean begins seeing Joy, or what he perceives to be Joy. In the early hours of the morning, he is awakened from his sleep and sees Joy at the foot of his bed. She seems to glide around and then vanishes. Is he dreaming? Is he hallucinating? Is she a spirit or is he going mad…?

All three (3) of Rose Anna’s books are available to purchase on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble.com, Seaburn Media Group.com or on her author page: http://www.thecatsmeowforwritersreaders.com/to-fictionnovels-by-author-rose-anna-schoene.html Ordering Info for Rose Anna Schoene’s books: Absolutely the Last Resort by Rose Anna Schoene Publisher: Seaburn Media Group Publication Date: 2003 ISBN #: 1592320600; 144 pages Price: $14.95 Where Are You? By Rose Anna Schoene Publisher: Seaburn Media Group Publication Date: 2006 ISBN #: 1592320090; 124 pages Price: $14.95 But! I’ve Always Loved You by Rose Anna Schoene Publisher: Seaburn Media Group Publication Date: 2010 117 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

ISBN #: 1592322530; 169 pages Price: $14.95

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A Fiction Medical Thriller

By SANDRA L. HOYNACKI On Call The quaint town of Morganville seemed like the perfect setting for Jenny Warren to begin her career as a nurse.

Complete with little mom-and-pop shops and a dog park.

Morganville was the picture-perfect suburb. Jenny, however, would soon learn that looks can be deceiving!

When she and fellow nurse, Kathy, suspect the increase in area accidents and sudden rise in organ donations couldn’t possibly be coincidental, they find themselves tangled up in a web of lies, deception, and murder.

What the young women discover beyond the operating room doors is beyond anything that their minds could have ever imagined…a plot so sinister and so far-reaching that it spans the globe, and forces them to run for their lives.

SANDRA HOYNACKI retired from her nursing job to care for her mother who had Alzheimer’s. She has since become an avid writer, and has already won several contests for her poems and was once invited to read at a Poet’s Convention in Washington, DC. Sandra is the author of two books of poetry: “Purple Latches” and “Whispers from the Ledge.”

“On Call” is her first fiction novel and the sequel, “Encryption’s Wrath,” another medical technological thriller, will debut soon.

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Ordering Info for Sandra Hoynacki’s novel, On Call: On Call by Sandra Hoynacki Publisher: Createspace Publication Date: September 2009 ISBN #: 9781479155088 Price: [Print-edition] $20.98; [Ebook-edition] $6.00.

254 pages, and can be purchased through Sandra’s author website: www.SandraHoynacki.com, through Barnes & Noble.com or wherever books are sold.

************ ALSO BY SANDRA HOYNACKI! A Book of Poetry and A Book of Poetry and Short Stories Purple Latches And Whispers from the Ledge Review of Purple Latches: ****** “I'm familiar with the exemplary life author Sandra Hoynacki leads; her book Purple Latches includes some of the most beautiful poetry your eyes shall ever read and witness.

The words of imagery and artwork shall instill within you an uplifted spirit like none I've ever read in my fifty-eight years on earth. Each poem opens ones physical senses and starts a movie in the minds eyes where you can leave at the end with the most dynamic thoughts ever perceived in ones 120 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

written words of truth and mystery.

I strongly recommend this book to anyone in need of a life changing experience or for the benefit of a walk down memory lane. It is an honor and privilege to know the Author Sandra Hoynacki, and the sacrifices she makes toward humanity on a daily basis. Thanks for this opportunity to review her book.”

Drawn from real-life experiences and creative visions, these collections of poems and short stories by Sandra Hoynacki will inspire, surprise and entertain the most discerning reader.

Ordering Info for Sandra Hoynacki’s books “Purple Latches” and “Whispers from the Ledge”: Purple Latches by Sandra Hoynacki Publisher: Lulu Press Publication Date: June 2007 ISBN #: 9781430322931 Price: [Print-edition] $19.50; [EBook-downloadable edition] $12.00 158 pages, and can be purchased at: Sandra Hoynacki.com, Lulu Press, Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com, or wherever books are sold.

Whispers from the Ledge by Sandra Hoynacki Publisher: Lulu Press Publication Date: December 2008 ISBN #: 9780557029044 Price: [Print-edition]: $15.17; Not yet available in EBook 121 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

edition.

148 pages, and can be purchased at: Sandra Hoynacki.com, Lulu Press, Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com, or wherever books are sold.

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A Fiction Romance Novel

By ROSALEE WILSON One Priceless Treasure About One Priceless Treasure by Rosalee Wilson: Brad Thompson moves from his home in Florida to Boston Massachusetts with his family -- who are pursuing a new Business venture. Brad doesn’t know the extent to how His life is going to change until he meets Connie.

She is every man’s dream girl and he feels special that he becomes her choice. But due to unforeseen circumstances, his dreams begin to crumble and he doesn't know if he can put them back together again.

What drives him away is a misunderstanding but how will he get Connie back, and will he? After years of pain and agony, they reunite once again. If only he had taken the phone call that particular night, their lives could have been happy and years of loneliness could have been avoided.

A sweet romance that everyone can relate too who has ever been in love; remembering that awesome feeling of that first crush! Laughter and tears, this book is a must read and will definitely touch your heart.

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Author Rosalee Wilson’s latest book is a must-read romance!

Hurry!

Get Your Copy of “One Priceless Treasure by Rosalee Wilson” Today!

(Ordering info next page…)

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Ordering Info for “One Priceless Treasure”: One Priceless Treasure by Rosalee Wilson Publisher: Lulu Press Publication Date: 2011 ISBN #: 978-1-257-86522-2 Price: $5.99 EBook-downloadable [PDF]; $20.98 for Printedition [Hardcover].

ALSO BY ROSALEE WILSON! A Children’s Book

By ROSALEE WILSON A Mushy Mouse Tale

This is your chance to meet Mushy, the most lovable mouse you will ever meet!

Mushy Mouse is a mouse looking for love and a family to call his own. He struggles with self-confidence and the idea of someone loving a fat mouse like him. But Mushy and an 125 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Indian mouse named Feathertail form a bond that will last a lifetime.

With excitement and adventure, “A Mushy Mouse Tale” by Rosalee Wilson will touch your heart forever. A must read!

Mrs. Wilson is an avid writer with an imagination that ignites a spark in children everywhere. She is available for speaking engagements and interviews.

Hurry! Go to www.lulu.com and order your copy of “A Mushy Mouse Tale by Rosalee Wilson” today!

================================================== ===================

A Fiction Paranormal Romantic Novel A Nonfiction Book of Survival

By CAROL ROACH Storytime Tapestry Ezine’s Founder & Publisher (www.StorytimeTapestryEzine.com) 126 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Angels Watching Over Me And

Picking Up the Pieces: One Woman’s Journey CAROL ROACH, a graduate of both Concordia University, with a bachelor’s in psychology, and a graduate of McGill University with a master’s degree in counselling psychology, knows people as much as she knows the struggles of the poor and disenchanted.

She is truly the champion of the underdog. Carol’s signature writing is about poverty and the ability to rise above it. She strives to give women and men a voice through the written word. Her writing is poignant and inspirational. Ms. Roach also publishes a daily online ezine, Storytime Tapestry, where she encourages everyone to “let their true heart sing” through the words they write.

Her new book ‘Angels Watching Over Me’ is rich with character while it underlines the issues of survival in one of Montreal’s poorest districts, St. Henri. Carol herself grew up in this area of the city.

What a Prominent Amazon Reviewer wrote about Carol Roach’s novel: ****** “In this wonderful work by gifted author and publisher Carol Roach we meet a very special girl named Carissa.

Carissa’s life has been anything but easy. She had known the scorn of poverty; the battle of rejection, the sorrow of death. However, Carissa has a quality that hinges almost on the supernatural; her faith and assurance in a God who is more than enough. We are taken through the life of Carissa from her youth in a small rural community and her family to 127 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

her final victory as a woman who never compromised despite the hardships such decisions would bring. Her life stood as a testimony.

This is a deep heartfelt read; one that shows the strength and courage of the human spirit despite at times cruel circumstances and unfair situations. The author definitely draws you into the very heart of Carissa; merging you with the fight and strength that she possesses during her entire life. Her unselfish love is the main attribute that shone out to me and one that I think author Carol Roach did an exceptional job at portraying.

If you want to read a story of the heart, this one is for you. A compelling story of a woman, a time and a future where one can actually say, ‘everything turned out all right.’ It might have happened much later than we as the reader may have wanted, but perhaps that is exactly how life for most of us plays out. Well done Ms. Roach!”

--Shirley Johnson, Senior Reviewer for MidWest Book Review ************ Ordering Info to for “Angels Watching Over Me”: Angels Watching Over Me by Carol Roach Publisher: Janelle McCarthy (Lulu Press) Publication Date: March 2007 ISBN #: 978-1-4303-2003-6 244 pages, and can be purchased at Lulu Press, Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com. Or you can order it at your local bookstore.

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Price: [Paperback print] $16.10; [Download] $5.00 __________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________

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A Book of Emotive & Inspiring Poetry; a Book of Short Stories, and a Book Series of Inspirational Quotes

By TRISHA MARTIN My Naked Mind: An Intimate Collection of Poetry Fed Up Woman Trisha’s Treasures: Gems of Inspiration And Spirit of the Hawk: Mental Flight (Book 1)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: TRISHA MARTIN is a published author, poet, entrepreneur, blogger, and talk radio show host. Her book publications include “My Naked Mind: An Intimate Collection of Poetry” [April 2005], “Fed Up Woman” [May 2011], “Trisha’s Treasures: Gems of Inspiration” [May 2011], and “Spirit of the Hawk: Mental Flight” [2012].

Having “Fed Up Woman” published was like closing the book on a chapter of her life that ended a long time ago, Trisha reflects. With two of her four children now grown, she plans on spending much more time giving her fans what they want more of. You can visit Trisha over at: Trisha's World Reviews for “My Naked Mind: An Intimate Collection of Poetry”: ***** “The words contained within the pages of author, poet and entrepreneur TRISHA MARTIN’S book are filled with 130 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

compelling, deep, emotional and inspirational poems that readers should be able to identify with. Each poem is written with clarity as the author pours her heart and soul into her writing. If you're a poetry lover who likes reading personal works of others, this book of poetry is a must-read!” **** “I have never read poetry so vividly written, taking me on a continuous journey from emotion to emotion!”

Ordering Info for “My Naked Mind,” “Fed Up Woman,” “Trisha’s Treasures,” and “Spirit of The Hawk: Mental Flight:” My Naked Mind: An Intimate Collection of Poetry

By Trisha Martin Publisher: Publish America Publication date: April 2005 ISBN #: 1413744540 84 pages; Price: $14.95 Fed Up Woman by Trisha Martin Publisher: Publish America Publication Date: May 2011 ISBN #: 978-1-4560-4946-1 64 pages; Price: $16.95 Trisha’s Treasures: Gems of Inspiration by Trisha Martin Publisher: Blurb.com Publication date: May 2011 Price: (Paperback-edition) $13.95; (Hardcover, dusk jacketedition) $29.95

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Spirit of the Hawk: Mental Flight by Trisha Martin Publisher: Blurb.com Publication Date: May 2012 89 pages; Price: (Paperback-edition) $22.30 __________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________

A Fiction Novel; a Book of Essays, and Books of Short Stories

By BARBARA DEMING Aunt Lutie’s Blue Moon Café Pink Poodle Pie (Other Tales of How Women Get Even) Growing Up Barefoot in the South [Essays of a Southern Writer] And The Quilt Maker “Aunt Lutie's Blue Moon Café by Barbara Deming” was released in early 2013! And the Characters from the Blue Moon Café (as well as the author) are talking to folks at: http://auntlutie.blogspot.com Come join us! Check out the author at: www.barbaramimsdeming.com Author, Instructor, Speaker, and Owner of the Workshop "I Can Write. Can You?" which promotes writing for fun, mental health, and publication for both children and adults.

“Pink Poodle Pie (Other Tales of How Women Get Even)” 132 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

by Barbara Deming has been released.

All those stories are just "yapping" to be read by all of you.

This is what my editor calls "mid-life chick-lit." I say it is a blueprint of how we gals can get even with those cheating males in our lives, or dream of what we wished had happened to such guys in our past.

If you've ever been cheated on, dumped, or mentally/physically violated by a yahoo in any way, this is a must read for you. You will grin, gasp--maybe even give an "atta girl" yell at the antics of these strong women.

Yours Truly, Barbara Deming, offers nineteen women, many like us, who write their own ending to the stories of an important time in their lives.

You can find "Pink Poodle Pie" at iUniverse.com, Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com, Books-in-a-Million.com, or receive an autographed copy of the soft-cover edition by sending your check for $16 (includes media postage-mailing) to: Barbara Deming, 1175 La Moree Rd. #68, San Marcos, CA 92078. She welcomes questions, discussions and comments at mailto:demingwrites@att.net Happy Reading! --Barb.

--"Pink Poodle Pie (Other Tales of How Women Get Even)" has been released! Buy it at Amazon.com, iUniverse.com, autographed copy from the author --"The Quilt Maker" and "Growing up Barefoot in the South" 133 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

can be purchased at Amazon.com. Autographed copy from author.---Check out: http://barbswritetree.blogspot.com

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A Memoir Novel

By FRANCES ACESTA-SCANDARITO Brooklyn and Beyond

The Author Frances Acesta-Scandarito says about her book: “I was born in Brooklyn, New York in 1929. How I went from humble beginnings to a life of education, adventure and travel is what this book is all about.” After graduating high school, Frances worked in a Manhattan bank in their Foreign Currency Department. When Frances and her family moved 134 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

to Florida, she earned her Bachelor’s Degree at FAU and was a Nova University Master’s Degree recipient in the field of education. She has had the good fortune to work in both the banking and educational areas, and experienced the wonders of life through family gatherings and travel.

Ordering Info for “Brooklyn and Beyond”: BROOKLYN AND BEYOND BY FRANCES ACESTASCANDARITO Publisher: Infinity Publishing Publication Date: March 1, 2013 ISBN-10: 0741481200 ISBN-13: 978-0741481207 108 pages, and can be purchased at: Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com, Infinity Publishing, or wherever books are sold.

Price: [Paperback print] $23.95; [Kindle edition] $9.95 __________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________

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A Book of Poetry and Short Stories

By ROSANNE CATALANO The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers’ Founder & Publisher (www.thecatsmeowforwritersreaders.com) Mirrored Images

Author, Founder and Publisher Rosanne Catalano (Umland), aka RC Kayla, is pleased to introduce her book Mirrored Images, which is a quick read at only 95 pages! It is a book containing the author’s collection of short stories and poems (some fiction, some fact) written for your reading enjoyment and for those who love guessing games!

“Mirrored Images” by Rosanne Catalano begins with a poem about, and dedication to, her late father and still-livingmother and goes into a short story about an experience with bullying in the eighth grade of school to being saved by a 136 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

guardian angel when the story character was in her mid30’s. An interesting read in which you, the reader, may want to guess which of her stories are fact or fiction…

Reviews for ‘Mirrored Images’ by Rosanne Catalano: ****** “I purchased a copy of Rosanne Catalano’s book, Mirrored Images, and this short collection of short stories (you will have to try real hard to decide which are fact or fiction), articles and poetry, both touched my heart and made me smile. Rosanne’s book Mirrored Images is truly a great read!”

“It touched me because of the love shown for her parents, God, and her husband. It touched me because I was the kid with glasses who was bullied and picked on and I could feel Rosanne's pain when it happened to her. It touched me because I have lost my parents and her tribute to her father, and mother, brought back all of the good times and love I had with/for my own parents.

It touched me because Rosanne, as I feel so many of us are but never put it into words so eloquently, is a survivor. I believe we all have guardian angels and Mirrored Images proves it to all who will listen. No one but angels could have saved her from bullies in junior high school, have looked over her until she found the perfect mate, and still guide her to this day in her writing craft.”

“These are stories we should not only want to read, enjoy reading, but they are stories we all need to hear. I get a glimpse of the love and courage that Rosanne shows, and shares, in her magazine--and our most welcome online 137 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

correspondence.”

“Rosanne is writing a continuation of Mirrored Images titled Escape and Redemption. I can't wait to read that! But first, my readers, you must read Mirrored Images.”

--Barbara Deming; Writing Instructor, Author, Publisher, and Blogger.

***** “I read Rosanne Catalano’s book Mirrored Images and I love it!!! She had somewhat of a hard life in some areas and a good one in others. The author had a lot of heartache, with the loss of friends early in her life, and the ridicule and horrendous behaviors of other kids when she was in junior high school.

“Though it sounds like she had a most wonderful Dad and Grandmother too; her grandmother reminded me so much of my own Grandmother who passed away last year! I enjoyed very much reading all of her different short stories and the poems she included. I really loved reading about her little cheese episode in ‘Christmas With Grandma,’ and her little sneaky trek to the store thinking she could hurriedly fix what she had EATEN…LOL!!!! I LOVED IT--------- And I can still see Rosanne so clearly eating all of the cheese!!!!”

“CONGRATULATIONS TO ROSANNE CATALANO all the way around! I will get her next book soon...I like this book’s title by the way, and the picture of Rosanne on the back cover; she looks so relaxed.”

--Sandra Hoynacki; Author, Poet and Nurse.

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**** “Rosanne Catalano’s book, Mirrored Images, was a

delightful read! I LOVED IT!!!! IF the abuse at school and all was about her, Rosanne has become a beautiful person and woman. I'm so glad she now has a wonderful spouse and her life is filled with love.”

--Carol Dee Meeks; Writer and Poet.

Rosanne Catalano’s next book, Escape and Redemption, will be a continuation of Mirrored Images as her first crime fiction novel.

Escape & Redemption by Rosanne Catalano Coming Soon!

Synopsis of “Escape & Redemption:”

Rachelle Norris is escaping a painful past. She lands in the State of Delaware and meets Marie Gluck, a homeless woman whom Rachelle saves from dying of a heart attack, changing Marie Gluck’s life forever.

Both Rachelle Norris and Marie Gluck are redeemed after opening up a small business and fighting for it against those who practice imminent domain takeovers and murder.

Remember, Mirrored Images by Rosanne Catalano is available to purchase for $6.00 in Nook edition, $13.20 for the paperback edition, and $5.00 for the Kindle edition!

Be sure to pick up your copy of “Mirrored Images” today at Lulu Press, BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com, or at Rosanne’s website: Author Rosanne Catalano / The Cat's 139 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine Ordering Info for “Mirrored Images”: Mirrored Images by Rosanne Catalano Publisher: Jane W. (Lulu Press) Publication Date: January 2007 ISBN-10: 978-1-304-66346-7 ISBN-13: 978-1-257-40573-2 Price: [Print-edition] $13.20; [Nook-edition] $6.00; [Kindle-

edition] $5.00; 170 pages, and can be purchased at Lulu Press, Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com or at Welcome to Author Rosanne Catalano's Official Site AND the 2nd Home of The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine

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LETTERS TO THE PUBLISHER: If you have a question, would like to make a suggestion on something you would like to see in this magazine, or just want to tell us about an article, poem or story you have read here, send an email to The Publisher’s Box™ and let us know your thoughts, questions, news or anything else you want to talk with us about. The Publisher will be sure to respond in a timely manner.

TO SUBMIT YOUR WRITING: Send your short stories, poetry, flash fiction, essays, haikus, story articles (nonfiction short stories) and/or helpful articles, but please do follow the Submission Guidelines set forth. To read the Submission Guidelines click on this link, then click back here and send your submission(s) to “Submissions”. Remember, submissions must be sent within the body of your Submit Form! Do not send submissions as an attachment. And please do provide a resource box and / or author bio along with your work.

Every single submission is read and will be responded to within four months. Thank you and keep on writing!

HOW SOME ARE SUPPORTING THE CAT’S MEOW FOR WRITERS & READERS MAGAZINE: In each magazine issue, and within author Rosanne Catalano-Umland’s website, there are links to various businesses and literary magazines such as Amazon.com, First Writer.com, Filbert Publishing, Angie’s DIARY (#1 Online Magazine for Professional and Aspiring Writers), How-To Corp, and many others that are also on the Helpful Sites For You page of the author’s literary magazine website. When purchasing products through these links, it 141 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

helps support The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers and keep your subscription free! Thank you for your support throughout the years.

The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine is dedicated to: Rachel Renée Carmine (“Carman”) Catalano Anna (“Ann”) Inzinna-Pollicino-Catalano Harold (“Clint”) Welch Pauline Mullé-Infranco Joseph Infranco http://www.thecatsmeowforwritersreaders.com Copyright © 2004-2014 Rosanne Catalano-Umland (aka RC Kayla): Founder, Publisher and Author. ISSN #: 2237-65.

Queens, NY 11379. All rights reserved. All copyrights remain with the respective creators of material in this magazine and on the site (the publisher has no enduring rights over future printings and/or publications except her own work).

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this magazine. The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine accepts no liability expressed or implied, for any advertisement, editorial or products contained within.

The views expressed in the stories, poetry, essays, articles, and other writings included in this magazine are those of the authors and not necessarily those of this magazine or its publisher.

The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine®™ Is an independently-owned and operated literary magazine supported by readers like you; and by grants and corporate sponsorships from various organizations and companies (some listed on the "Helpful 142 |The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine July-Sept 2014 Issue #73

Sites for You" page).

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