Showing posts with label The Willow and the Stone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Willow and the Stone. Show all posts

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Sunday’s Serving – The Willow and the Stone



 

“Your son is gravely ill from pneumonia,” Elijah said, rising from Jamie’s side. He tried to ignore Geraldine’s presence. How could she stand there with that hateful smirk when a child lay suffering only a few feet away? “He’s drowning in fluid. I might be able to save him by performing an emergency tracheotomy.”

“You ain’t gonna do nothin’ to Jamie.” The big man purpled in rage. He turned to his wife who sat crumpled and sobbing beside the gasping boy. “I told you not to bring this man in here!”

“This is my baby, my only child! I can’t stand by and do nothing!”

Elijah stared at him. “Dave, I don’t think you understand. Jamie is dying. I don’t think there’s anything I can do, but at least let me try.”

“No Satan worshipper is gonna use his poison to cure my boy,” Dave choked. “If God means to take him away, then it’s His will.”

“Not my boy! Don’t ... want him ... to die.” Sarah beseeched her husband through her harsh sobs.

Tears fell across Dave’s wide cheeks. He buried his face in his hands, unable to look at her.

“Let Dr. Webb save him, or God help me, I’ll never forgive you. If Jamie dies, you’re dead to me too!” Spittle flew from Sarah’s mouth as she went from begging to a mother’s desperate fury.

Geraldine’s shrewish voice cut into her wails. “Where’s your faith, woman? When God told Isaac to sacrifice his son to Him, did he cry and call on demons for help? Would you save your son’s life just to damn him and yourself to eternal Hell?”

Elijah looked from one person to another, incredulous. Had Geraldine actually brainwashed Dave into believing Jamie would be better off dead than to accept medical help? Surely they didn’t expect him to not try to save the child!

He laid a desperate hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Listen to me—”

“No, you listen.” Dave dropped his hands from his face. His skin blotched red. “Take this message to your demon friend Black Elk.”

Elijah saw him pull back, saw the big man’s hand clench, but didn’t believe he would actually hit him until the ham fist slammed into his jaw. Too surprised at first to feel the pain, he dropped to the ground.

Lying on the cold floor, his head ringing from the blow and darkness closing in, he gaped up at Dave. The despairing man bent toward him, his face twisted in a snarl. Elijah cringed as he reached for him.

Sarah’s lost scream stopped her husband. The last thing the doctor saw before blacking out was the wretched woman throwing herself across her son’s still, silent form.

                                 

Available from Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and in print.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Sunday’s Serving – The Willow and the Stone



 

                The hair on the back of her neck stood up. The next instant, the alien chittered behind them.
                Renee swiveled, raising her gun. A heavy clout to her ribs knocked her backwards and drove the air from her lungs. Her gun spun loose and disappeared into the darkness. The cement floor rushed up to greet her. Dull pain reverberated throughout her body.
                She fought off the shock and twisted about just in time to see the flash of light explode from Adam's gun. The bullet pinged off the wall. The alien looming over Adam swung a mantis arm. The former police officer careened through the air like a broken puppet. His head collided with the top of the door frame with a solid thunk. He dropped to the ground, and his gun skittered outside. He slumped and did not move again.
                Renee raised her gaze, her ears still ringing with the blast from the gun. The insectoid alien horror stalked on its wisp thin legs to stand over her. The moonlight showed it in glaring detail; seven feet of alien. Its proboscis writhed and lengthened. The end narrowed to a needle tip. Hypnotized with terror, she watched as a drop appeared at the end of the profane appendage. The nightmarish face approached hers. Sparse tufts of hair sprouted out of its elongated skull. The skin reflected the moonlight like shiny new plastic. Light colored, obscenely humanlike eyes stared at her.
                It brushed against her throat. Its proboscis slid against her skin with a lover's caress. Renee didn’t have the strength to even moan. It was over.
 

Available from Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and in print.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Sunday’s Serving – The Willow and the Stone


 
 
                As if to underscore his words, a loud buzz shattered the background singing of insects and frogs. Renee and Adam separated in a heartbeat and shot to their feet, heedless of their nudity in the cold air.
                “Where?” she whispered, straining to see in the gloom.
                “Outside, I think. Stay here.” She heard Adam search his sleeping bag. Then came the click of a gun cocked.
                Renee thought of Carli asleep in the recesses of the warehouse. “No way. I'm going with you.” She frantically rummaged about until she felt the cold metal of her own weapon.
                Adam’s silhouette appeared by the door as he slid toward the opening. His whisper barely carried back to her. “All right, but stick close. Got your gun?”
                “Yeah.” She crept to his side. Together they drifted like spirits to the door, and as one they hesitated at the square of moonlight that illuminated the entrance. Renee stopped breathing as her ears searched for the telltale chitter of an alien. Only the chirping of ordinary bugs and the pounding of her own heart sounded in the stillness.
                They remained frozen for an eternity. Then Adam glided to the edge of the doorway. He jerked his head. Renee moved to the opposite side of the opening. Peering out as far as she could without leaving the comparative safety of the warehouse, she scanned the moonlit landscape. Nothing stirred.
                Adam nodded to her and lunged outside. She followed suit, her gun straight-armed and sweeping in an arc, ready to blast the first thing that moved.
                The moonlight illuminated a gravel road that led up to the door of the warehouse. A few splintered wooden pallets littered the sandy ground. Nothing stirred. Renee glanced back toward Adam. Except for the rusted skeletal remains of a forklift, his side of the warehouse remained still.
                “Check around that corner,” he whispered. He moved toward the other end of the building.
                Renee darted to the corner of the warehouse. She scanned her surroundings. A few weeds swayed in the breeze. Her heart hammered in her ears. She peered around the corner. Nothing. The pale light illuminated a few rusting steel drums and another forgotten forklift. She breathed out with a whoosh.
                “See anything?” Adam’s voice came from right behind her. Renee stifled a scream.
 
Available from Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and in print.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Sunday’s Serving – The Willow and the Stone (New Revised Edition)




 

Carli grew a bit louder for a moment, and then her voice subsided altogether.

 “Does she do that a lot?” Adam’s voice sounded half-amused, half-worried.

“Almost every night, and it’s the same dream over and over.” Glad to have a neutral subject, Renee explained the recurring dream of the Native American and the petite blonde’s obsession with the Rock. “I worry she’s losing her grip on reality,” she finished.

Adam’s voice was thoughtful. “Quite a few people believe dreams are omens. That’s not nuts. Heck, my grandma used to read tea leaves.”

“Carli truly believes the Indian and his hideaway are real. Not only that, she thinks the man purposely calls to her through her dreams.”

“If it means so much to her, why hasn’t she struck out on her own?” Adam asked. “If she’s sure it’s there, why isn’t she chasing after it?”

“She doesn’t believe she can survive by herself. She’s scared silly to try, and I refuse to look for a place that doesn’t exist. Trust me, she’s not going anywhere alone, not even if God Himself demanded it.”

“How long have you been stuck with her?”

Renee bristled a little at his choice of words. However, she decided to let it go. This once.

“We’ve been together almost since the aliens landed.” She shuddered at the memory. “I found her in a state of shock, standing in a looted grocery store eating stale Cheetos with tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked pathetic and lost and at the same time so sweet. I’d lost all of my own family to those bastards so I took her along with me. I’ve looked out for her ever since.”

“That’s great for Blondie, but what do you get out of it? Don’t get mad; I mean it’s obvious you care for her, but it’s hardly fair to you. It must be hard to have that much responsibility and not feel taken advantage of.”

Renee felt another flash of anger. “It’s not like that. Carli doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, and she’s not out for a free ride. She’s just afraid. Some people need more reassurance than others.”

Renee’s temper faded as she thought of Carli sleeping without fear at the back of the warehouse, her lovely face peaceful. “She’s been a great companion, always spewing out little trivial bits of information about the places we’ve been. She used to be a librarian so she knows tons of stuff. Until she started on this dream kick of hers, her company was great. She’s the reason I keep going.”

Renee swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and realized she may have said too much. She toughened the tone of her voice. “She’s so damned sensitive. I don’t know what I’ll do if she goes off the deep end.”

“She can’t be too far from reality if she knows enough to stick with you. I don’t think Carli’s going nuts. I think she’s dealing with the situation the best way she knows how.”

Renee had nothing to say to that. All she could do was hope Carli would be okay.

 

Available from Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and in print.

 

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Sunday's Serving - The Willow and the Stone




 

Renee pulled her gun from the hip holster she’d taken from the gun shop yesterday. I feel like a kid playing cowboys and Indians, she thought.

“Hey, I’m not rolling yet. Pay attention, Carli. I haven’t given up on you.” Adam studied Renee’s posture. “Okay, you’ve got a good stance. I’m glad one of you pays attention.”

He suddenly moved behind Renee, his arms reaching around. His hands covered hers as she held the gun. He hadn’t done that with Carli. His breath tickled her ear. Despite the warmth of the day, her skin erupted in goose flesh.

“Now hold the gun out like this...”

“Uh, I think I’ve got it.” Her voice shook, but Adam didn’t comment on it. Instead, he released his hold and stepped back.

“Let ‘er rip!”

She squeezed the trigger. With a startled ping-wow, the can on the end flew straight up.

“Nice shot!” Adam cried.

Now that she knew how the gun recoiled, Renee was ready to roll. In a deafening volley, she sent bullets plowing through the row of cans. She cleaned off the log of all but one. As the last echo of gunfire died off, she grinned up at Adam’s stunned face.

“Damn,” he mumbled. “Maybe you should be the one giving the lessons. You’ve done this before?”

“Unless you count all the video games I used to play, no.”

Carli clapped her hands like a delighted child. “That was great! Annie Oakley, move over!”

“See? That’s what happens when you keep your eyes open,” Adam teased.

“Hey Renee, I think you should practice on a moving target now.” Carli kicked a rock towards Adam.

“Don’t give her ideas, Blondie. Go set up another row of cans. I want you to knock out at least one before the sun sets.”

She stuck her tongue out then moved off humming. Adam shook his head and chuckled.

He turned to Renee with an admiring grin. “If things were normal, I’d reward you for doing such a great job by taking you out to dinner.” He chucked her under the chin. “Don’t look so surprised. I’d love to see you by candlelight.”

“Uh, thanks,” she stammered. Adam’s interest surprised and chagrined her.

“You don’t accept compliments too well, do you?”

Renee folded her arms. “Don’t you think you’d do better chasing Carli? She’s the pretty one.”

Now why did I say that?

They looked at the blonde, who had finished setting up the cans. She stared up at a tree, watching a brilliant red cardinal. Her face suffused with delight which made her lovelier than ever. Renee swallowed and looked away.

Adam shrugged. “I don’t think she’s interested in me. Besides, Carli’s not quite what I’m into. Don’t get me wrong; she’s a sweetheart, but she’s a little fragile for my tastes.”

“She’s stronger than you think. She just doesn’t believe in herself.”

“Maybe.” He gave Renee a mock frown. “Did you call her the pretty one?”

“Well, duh. Look at her.”

Adam shook his head. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short in the looks department, you know. You’re a beautiful lady with depth to match. I find that more attractive then the damsel in distress.”

Adam stepped forward. Before Renee could react, his lips pressed hers. His fingers twined in her hair. She let him kiss her, too stunned to move from his embrace. His lips were soft on hers, the contact gentle.


Available from Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and in print.




Tuesday, July 29, 2014

The Willow and the Stone Re-Released



 

Now available for e-readers and in print, the newly edited and formatted The Willow and the Stone is on sale at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, and Create Space (print). An award winner in the best fiction and novel categories at the Southeastern Writers Conference, this science fiction adventure was my first novel. I am thrilled to have this version out and available. 

Get your e-copy now from Amazon, Amazon UK, and Smashwords. You can also buy it in paperback print. For Nook users, you can get a Nook-compatible copy from Smashwords. If you prefer to buy directly from Barnes & Noble, I am hoping it will be on their virtual shelves in a week or two. I will post that link when it comes available.
 
Four years ago, insectile aliens arrived on Earth in great pyramid ships. Now mankind is reduced to a few pockets of survivors, skulking in the shadows to elude the creatures that rule the planet. Among those survivors are Carli Dixon and Renee Johnson, an ill-matched pair thrown together through circumstance.

Battling their extraterrestrial enemy and the betrayal of their own kind, Carli and Renee struggle against impossible odds to find safety. Rescuing each other from certain death cements their friendship. But to survive and save others like themselves, they must risk everything … including each other.
 

Chapter 1
Renee slapped her hand over her companion’s mouth. The brunette manhandled the smaller woman into the shadows beneath the stone bridge they’d just emerged from. Carli didn’t struggle against Renee’s grip. Instead, she squealed a muffled cry of protest into the stagnant West Virginia night air.

“Sssssshh!” Renee hissed, her grip tightening. “Aliens!”
Carli froze against her for an instant before breaking free. She slammed herself against the inside of the arch to merge with the blackest of shadows. Renee crowded her, also sliding into the dubious cover of darkness. The bridge, more picturesque than a bastion of protection, was small with wooden beams buttressing the stones above. A perfect spot for vacationing tourists to pose on for pictures to bore their co-workers with, but a ridiculous spot to depend on for one’s life.
Two monstrous creatures glided into view, their elongated insectoid figures silhouetted in the bright moonlight. They stalked up to the bridge that spanned the dry, dusty creek bed and joined the women in the darkness. Carli and Renee melted behind a support beam.
Trapped, Carli’s frantic mind whispered. The monsters had them for sure this time. She squeezed her eyes shut but couldn’t block out the aliens’ cricket speech. They chirped and chittered, grating against her ears. She wished she could be struck deaf. Sweat tickled its way down her spine.
Muscular Renee, who couldn’t begin to approach the power of the spindly aliens, tensed beside her. The creatures came abreast of the hidden women, chirping ear-bleeding conversation right in front of them. Carli tried to shrink further back, mashing her backside into the unyielding, unsympathetic stone. Renee crushed against her.
A pebble slid from under Carli’s foot and clinked in protest as it dislodged and rolled down the slope. Her mouth flew open to scream; surely the monsters heard the rock crash down. No whistle of sound escaped her locked, straining throat, but her heart was a bass drum of thunder booming through the night.
Her eyes screwed shut against the sight of the looming predators, Carli waited for the bristle-haired mantis arms of an alien to embrace her. She waited for its needle proboscis to slide into her flesh and secrete its paralyzing poison. She waited to sag helpless in the grip of the monster while it sipped the life from her veins. She waited to die a slow, fading death. Her heart pounded louder than ever, as if to beat as hard and fast as it could in its few remaining minutes.
The chittering aliens, intent on their conversation, stalked past. Disbelieving, Carli’s eyes flew open. She watched them pass from under the bridge. Motes of moon-glittering dust danced in the wake of the monsters’ long, tapered legs.
She released the breath she’d been holding in a rush and sucked it in again as one alien swiveled its head around. It looked back at the bridge that hid the two women.
Carli’s stomach lurched at the pale orb of the creature’s face glowing in the moonlight. Wispy tufts of hair sprang in sparse bunches from its bullet-shaped head. Its proboscis writhed like a blind worm where a nose and mouth would have been on a human. Its grayish flesh seemed stretched too tight over its skull; there were no wrinkles, not even creases on its face.
Its eyes shocked her the most. The monster’s eyes were cold in intent but horribly human in appearance, almond shaped and ringed with black lashes.
The creatures’ naked torsos were long and smooth without benefit of hair, muscle tone, or even genitalia. Carli had no idea if skin or a harder shell covered their bones. Happily she’d never been in contact with one. Odds were she’d someday lose that joy.
The searching alien’s too-human eyes slid over the women without alerting. Carli’s body sagged as the creature turned away and stalked on with its companion.
The women huddled under the bridge listening to the monsters’ conversation die away and smelling the sour tang of their own sweat. Carli shuddered violently. She knew that Renee could feel her quaking and didn’t care. Renee was probably shaking too. This had been their closest call yet.
Frogs broke into chorus from their shelters within the tall grass on the banks. Renee shook free of her paralysis, grabbed Carli’s hand, and yanked her out into the open. Under the moon’s accusing glare they sped away, tearing a path through the grass to escape the creatures that had all but destroyed the human race. 

Now available from Amazon, Amazon UKSmashwords, and in print.


Tuesday, July 22, 2014

The Re-Release of The Willow and the Stone

Next week will see a newly edited version of The Willow and the Stone released in print and e-book. I am so happy to be offering this re-issue. If you haven’t picked up my first science fiction novel, this is the version you’ll want. Read on for a description and the first chapter of the award-winning book that Manic Readers Review site called “sometimes shocking, often heartbreaking, and ultimately hopeful”.

 

Four years ago, insectile aliens arrived on Earth in great pyramid ships. Now mankind is reduced to a few pockets of survivors, skulking in the shadows to elude the creatures that rule the planet. Among those survivors are Carli Dixon and Renee Johnson, an ill-matched pair thrown together through circumstance.

Battling their extraterrestrial enemy and the betrayal of their own kind, Carli and Renee struggle against impossible odds to find safety. Rescuing each other from certain death cements their friendship. But to survive and save others like themselves, they must risk everything … including each other.
 

Chapter 1

Renee slapped her hand over her companion’s mouth. The brunette manhandled the smaller woman into the shadows beneath the stone bridge they’d just emerged from. Carli didn’t struggle against Renee’s grip. Instead, she squealed a muffled cry of protest into the stagnant West Virginia night air.

“Sssssshh!” Renee hissed, her grip tightening. “Aliens!”

Carli froze against her for an instant before breaking free. She slammed herself against the inside of the arch to merge with the blackest of shadows. Renee crowded her, also sliding into the dubious cover of darkness. The bridge, more picturesque than a bastion of protection, was small with wooden beams buttressing the stones above. A perfect spot for vacationing tourists to pose on for pictures to bore their co-workers with, but a ridiculous spot to depend on for one’s life.

Two monstrous creatures glided into view, their elongated insectoid figures silhouetted in the bright moonlight. They stalked up to the bridge that spanned the dry, dusty creek bed and joined the women in the darkness. Carli and Renee melted behind a support beam.

Trapped, Carli’s frantic mind whispered. The monsters had them for sure this time. She squeezed her eyes shut but couldn’t block out the aliens’ cricket speech. They chirped and chittered, grating against her ears. She wished she could be struck deaf. Sweat tickled its way down her spine.

Muscular Renee, who couldn’t begin to approach the power of the spindly aliens, tensed beside her. The creatures came abreast of the hidden women, chirping ear-bleeding conversation right in front of them. Carli tried to shrink further back, mashing her backside into the unyielding, unsympathetic stone. Renee crushed against her.

A pebble slid from under Carli’s foot and clinked in protest as it dislodged and rolled down the slope. Her mouth flew open to scream; surely the monsters heard the rock crash down. No whistle of sound escaped her locked, straining throat, but her heart was a bass drum of thunder booming through the night.

Her eyes screwed shut against the sight of the looming predators, Carli waited for the bristle-haired mantis arms of an alien to embrace her. She waited for its needle proboscis to slide into her flesh and secrete its paralyzing poison. She waited to sag helpless in the grip of the monster while it sipped the life from her veins. She waited to die a slow, fading death. Her heart pounded louder than ever, as if to beat as hard and fast as it could in its few remaining minutes.

The chittering aliens, intent on their conversation, stalked past. Disbelieving, Carli’s eyes flew open. She watched them pass from under the bridge. Motes of moon-glittering dust danced in the wake of the monsters’ long, tapered legs.

She released the breath she’d been holding in a rush and sucked it in again as one alien swiveled its head around. It looked back at the bridge that hid the two women.

Carli’s stomach lurched at the pale orb of the creature’s face glowing in the moonlight. Wispy tufts of hair sprang in sparse bunches from its bullet-shaped head. Its proboscis writhed like a blind worm where a nose and mouth would have been on a human. Its grayish flesh seemed stretched too tight over its skull; there were no wrinkles, not even creases on its face.

Its eyes shocked her the most. The monster’s eyes were cold in intent but horribly human in appearance, almond shaped and ringed with black lashes.

The creatures’ naked torsos were long and smooth without benefit of hair, muscle tone, or even genitalia. Carli had no idea if skin or a harder shell covered their bones. Happily she’d never been in contact with one. Odds were she’d someday lose that joy.

The searching alien’s too-human eyes slid over the women without alerting. Carli’s body sagged as the creature turned away and stalked on with its companion.

The women huddled under the bridge listening to the monsters’ conversation die away and smelling the sour tang of their own sweat. Carli shuddered violently. She knew that Renee could feel her quaking and didn’t care. Renee was probably shaking too. This had been their closest call yet.

Frogs broke into chorus from their shelters within the tall grass on the banks. Renee shook free of her paralysis, grabbed Carli’s hand, and yanked her out into the open. Under the moon’s accusing glare they sped away, tearing a path through the grass to escape the creatures that had all but destroyed the human race.

 

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

...and This is Why I Have Control Issues

You know, nothing can wreck someone’s life, work, and all things between quite like ... someone else. Ah, other people. Can’t live with them, can’t continue the human race without them. Damned indispensable others!

Seriously, I do like other people. Really, I do. But when they’ve goofed mightily and taken me down the drain with them, I start to think about saving my money and buying my own island to get away from the whole bunch.

You may ask, what’s setting you off THIS time, Queen Whines-A-Lot? Well, let me tell you – the long awaited re-issue of my first book, The Willow and the Stone.  Oh, how I’ve longed for this day (which is actually still three weeks away). I have chafed in my bonds to its publisher, much like a new pair of panties chafes a first-time thong wearer. This thing has been riding uncomfortably up my butt for three years. Is it any wonder I’m eager to tear free with giddy cries of relief?

Being published was a long-cherished dream. I was so happy when I signed that contract. At last! The book that I’d submitted to one house after another had finally found a home. I danced. I laughed. I made merry. This wasn’t one of my naughty books ... this was the serious book, the mainstream one that I could attach my real name to and not get shocked looks from decent churchgoing ladies (at least not for my writing, anyway – they give me shocked looks for other reasons that I am delighted to own).

The book came out. I got my copy. Bursting with enthusiasm, soaking in euphoria, and not having yet discovering the chafe, I opened it. And just like that, my balloon burst. My butt began to throb.

There is a reason I self-publish now, even though it means more work and less people taking me seriously. It stems from The Willow and the Stone and the other five books I signed contracts for at about the same time. What happened through their publisher turned a laid-back, let-it-ride-because-it-will-all-work-out chick into the Wicked Witch of Total Control.

I don’t know who fell asleep at the wheel. This publisher had released five previous books with no problems whatsoever. My Alt-Tam identity quickly became a known name in erotica circles. Why shouldn’t I have trusted them with more books, including the mainstream titles?

Unfortunately, someone in that organization turned to drugs or alcohol or smoking funny stuff through the hookah pipe and chewing on the Caterpillar’s mushroom. Something happened, and it wasn’t anything deep like asking existential questions like “Who are you?”  Nope, it was more along the lines of “Who gives a shit?” 

Starting with The Willow and the Stone, the publisher sent out all but unreadable books. The formatting was so messed up, one couldn’t tell where one paragraph started and another ended. In places they were run together. Sometimes a new paragraph was started in the middle of a sentence. Even the ebook versions of some books were in bad shape. Worst of all, my pleas to get the mess straightened out fell on deaf ears. There were assurances of, “We’re working on it, we’re fixing it, just a little longer.” But no, these books were not fixed. It was so bad that some vendors, like Barnes & Noble, stopped carrying the books altogether.  

So for the last three years, I have looked at my babies languishing out there, mutilated beyond recognition. I’ve cringed to think of people buying them and trying to read them ... and associating my name with the Frankenstein monsters they were turned into.  

A writer pours herself into her creations. Hours and angst fill every page the reader encounters. The Willow and the Stone has earned more angst than I ever dreamed it would. Soon, however, it will be made right. The contract expires the last week of this month, and I am so happy to fix the mess those others made. At that point, all shortcomings are mine, all mistakes to do with that book are on me. 

That’s perfectly fine. The Wicked Witch of Total Control would not have it any other way.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Sunday's Serving - The Willow and the Stone




 
               Adam's mouth tightened in a straight line.  Renee winced and braced herself for the coming explosion.  Somehow he managed a gentle tone as he called to the tiny blonde who had wandered off yet again.
                “Carli, please come back here.”
                She looked up and smiled.  Renee marveled at Adam’s patience as he returned the smile.  He'd worked with Carli for the last hour trying to teach her to shoot the small handgun he’d taken from a pawn shop.  He hadn't accomplished much.  Carli didn't refuse to learn outright, but she had her own devious ways of getting out of what she didn't want to do.
                “Sorry,” she said and rejoined them.
                Adam sighed as he handed her the unwanted Firestar.  The small gun seemed massive in her tiny hands, but she held it steady as she pointed at the rusted cans lined up on a fallen log.
                The log, with its collection of beer cans they'd found strewn all over the weed-choked ground, marked the edge of a wooded area.  The trio stood in the foothills of the Virginia mountains.
                Renee wrinkled her nose in distaste.  The surroundings reminded her of too many redneck hovels back home.  Behind them stood an unpainted ramshackle house, its boards gone silvery gray with time.  A refrigerator perched on the porch, kept company by a torn, stained sofa.  A dented school bus, its tires rotted and flat, rested by one side of the shack.   Its shattered windshield glared in the bright sun.  On the other side of the house a Buick crouched on cement blocks.  Ivy invaded the car's interior; indeed the foliage worked to swallow it. 
                Nature triumphs over technology, Renee thought.  Man is by no means guaranteed a footnote in time.
                Adam's voice reclaimed her attention as he instructed Carli, and Renee noted how close he stood to the blonde.  He'd shaved his beard, and as she’d suspected, a handsome face had emerged.  Thus far, Carli maintained only a friendly sparring relationship with him.
                Let it go, she advised herself.  If she decides she wants to be with him, it's none of my business.  

Available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords.
 
Newly edited version releasing end of July.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Sunday’s Serving – The Willow and the Stone


 

                What to do about the traitorous Dr. Webb?  The plan had been to scare him into turning against Leo.  If she could deprive Leo of his supporters, he’d have no choice but to turn to her. 
                The doctor was proving as obstinate as Leo.  Should she get him thrown out?  Could she get him thrown out? 
                Many would oppose the loss of the Rock's doctor, Geraldine mused.  If she could cast doubt on his abilities, she could convince the unbelievers that his agenda might be less than benign.  She'd make the argument that if they'd only have faith, the Lord would provide.  Had He not led them to this sanctuary provided by Geraldine herself? 
                Even if some unfortunate circumstance occurred through illness or mishap, far better to die in the bosom of God than to live with the help of Satan's medicine.
                She knew the people to talk to first to spread the word.  Together, they’d show the rest the path of righteousness and win her back control of the Rock.  Those remaining few who might be reluctant to follow her, who’d stand up for Black Elk and Dr. Webb, would be cast out of her Eden and into the darkness as well.  People like that Hollywood tramp Blythe Butler.
                “Hallelujah,” breathed Geraldine. 

Available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Sunday’s Serving – The Willow and the Stone


 

                A sudden, sharp knock at the door startled both men.  Before Elijah could respond, the door swung open.  Geraldine Short stood framed in the doorway.
                “I'd like a word with you, Dr. Webb,” she announced.  Her eyes, hectic with blue diamond sparkles, cut to Leo.  “In private, if you please,” she added.
                Both men rose.  Elijah didn’t miss the Native American’s grimace of a smile.  “Hello Mrs. Short.”
                “Mr. Black Elk.”  Her eyes darted away from him, but a responding smile twitched at her mouth.  She peered up at him through the fringe of her hair and her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. 
                Elijah’s eyes widened.  Was she flirting with Leo?
                Leo looked at him, his eyes hopeless.  He tried for a casual tone and almost made it.  “Thanks for the diagnosis, Doc.  You've been a big help.”
                “Any time.”  Elijah felt Geraldine's strange eyes boring into him.  “Make sure you stop by again soon.  I'll want to keep informed on, uh, your situation.”
                “Sure.  Mrs. Short.” 
                Leo gave the Rock’s leader a wide berth as he passed by.  He closed the door behind himself, and she stared at the door as his echoing footsteps receded.  She turned to Elijah, who sat back down behind his desk.
                “Is he ill?”
                “Not really.”  He leaned back, feigning ease.  “Just a recurring condition.”
                “What would that condition be?”
                He kept his voice light.  “Now Mrs. Short, I'm sure you've heard of doctor-patient confidentiality.”
                She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.  “If it concerns the well-being of the Rock, then it becomes my business.  The United States of America and its laws are only a memory.”
                Elijah adopted a professional manner.  “I assure you, Leo is no threat to the health of the people here.  He's not contagious.”
                Geraldine’s eyes narrowed.  “I wonder, Dr. Webb.  You’re close friends, aren’t you?  Unless Mr. Black Elk heeds God’s mandate, I think any association with such a man could be very dangerous to your health.” 

Releasing newly edited version late July.  Available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords

 

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Neverending Stories


 
I was startled a few weeks ago to realize the end of the publishing contract on my first book The Willow and the Stone is fast approaching.  Having opted to not extend the contract, I am getting the rights back in July. 

Since my foray into traditional publishing with a small house has been a mixed bag with more negative than positive, I will be re-releasing The Willow and the Stone on my own.  Alt-Tam has had a great deal of success in self-publishing, so it’s a hat I’m used to wearing. 

However, this means a lot of work.  I’ve already begun a new editing run on this book, fixing some writing issues that I missed before ... even though I’ve been over and over the story a million times.  I never remain happy with anything I write for very long.  I always wince when I read over something that’s been out a little while.  “That could have been done better,” I say to myself.  “Did I really let that go into public looking like that?” 

The same has happened once more.  I’m formatting my new version of The Willow and the Stone and finding irritating little things that make me grind my teeth.  I comfort myself as I go, thinking, “Well, I get to fix that.  At least I’ve got that going for me.”  We writers are brutes to ourselves.  I don’t think I’ve ever met another author who feels they got their work perfect. 

Feeding my angst is the way the publisher let the book go out.  The formatting is horrendous on the print version.  I’m afraid to see how it looks as an ebook for fear it’s just as bad.  This is one of the reasons traditional publishing has left a bad taste in my mouth.  You’d think those who are supposed to be experts in this field would at least be able to format a book.  Apparently not.  I am embarrassed to have people read my work looking like this.  I’m not quite sure they can read it.  In using my print copy to work on my edits, I’m nearly cross-eyed trying to figure out where one paragraph ends and another begins.  What were they thinking? 

Again, I remind myself I get to fix it.  The book is out of print anyway, so at least no more damage can be done on that front.  So I’m pasting a big smile on my face and continuing on. 

Yet the constant urge to improve makes me wonder if I’ll ever truly finish writing The Willow and the Stone.  Will it reach a point where I can claim it is done, never to be touched again?  I don’t know.  I have a sneaky suspicion the answer will be no.