April 2020

A N

E A N

L L C

M A G A Z I N E

THE UNDER-HEEL

HIDDEN TREASURE

SLAVE OF THE

BY PATTY WISEMAN

,P10

SIREN

A.G BELLE, P3

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It Happened One Doomsday (Dru Jasper, #1) Book Review

by; Gladys Gonzales Atwell

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When I came into this life, I was an innocent child. She changed me, my Siren mother, she changed me into this thing I am—this killer. I never wanted to be this way. I don’t know how Samuel will go back to normal if we ever get out of here alive. “Sorry, Mother, I was unable to bring home anyone tonight. There were a couple of men questioning about a missing person that was last seen at the club.

I seemed to get the attention of one. I was going to lure him in but decided against it.

We don’t need another reason for the police to come snooping around.” I hope she doesn’t question me beyond what I told her. I know I came up empty-handed tonight, but I was nervous and shocked by how things went with the PI. She clicks her mouth in disappointment. “Yara, how many times must you disappoint poor Samuel here? It’s your fault he goes through the things he does. Well, shall we get this over with?” “No, Mother! Hasn’t he endured enough? Punish me instead! Please!” I cry out, running over to Samuel and seeing the hurt in his eyes. He says nothing, already knowing his place in this hellish world. Reaching him, I block him from my mother's view. “Oh, don’t you see darling, I am punishing you! This is why I keep this one around. So you both know your place. Beneath my sisters and I.”

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HIDDEN TREASURE

By Patty Wiseman

The fragrance of rich leather and stale cigar smoke nettled my nose when I pulled back the fragile tissue paper.

Tears stung my eyes. Father. He liked a good cigar, his one luxury.

I fought back the emotion, the guilt. Why wasn’t I here for him at the end?

“It’s yours now. I’ve wanted to get rid of this old box ever since I moved into this house,” My stepmother sniffed.

I shot her a scathing glance. I blamed her for his death. She didn’t tell me he was sick until it was too late.

Still it was no excuse for me. I stayed away because of her.

The reading of the will didn’t go well.

No one was happy. Greed dominated this family and was the primary reason I left three years ago.

I turned back to the box.

The coat was old, hand sewn, beautiful stitching—a real status symbol back in the day. A treasure, of course, but what shall I do with it?

I returned it to the worn suitcase, its home for the past eighty-seven years, or even longer.

“Why did he leave me this old leather coat? It’s a man’s coat. Out of fashion. I have no use for it.

I had no idea he owned such a thing.”

My husband suggested we take it to an antique road show to see what it might bring.

I hesitated. After all, it is part of my heritage. I only wish I knew the story behind it.

He pulled it from the box to look for damages.

“It is a beautiful thing,” I whispered.

“Here, try it on. Your Father, or maybe, your grandfather wore this,” he said.

It was too big, of course, but it felt comfortable, safe.

It felt odd as he slipped it on me, like I cloaked myself with grandfather’s presence. My hands slid into the pockets. One felt different. Something was sewn into the lining.

We pulled the fragile threads, careful not to tear. Out came a small, cotton key “Well, purse with a gold key inside, an it’s too bad your father didn’t leave unusual symbol etched into the back. you anything else, my dear. But “A then, he bank key?” he asked. really didn’t leave much to any of I us. I wonder what he did with all his looked closer. “A safety deposit box?” money.

At He was surely a tightwad.” the bank, they led us to the secured area. The key fit perfectly. Inside…the sum of ten thousand dollars and a note written in his hand. It’s yours if you find it.

A box never opened; a treasure almost lost.