Connections eMagazine September 2023 Edition

“Books are not about passing time. They’re about other lives. Other worlds. Far from wanting time to pass, one just wishes one had more of it.”

Alan Bennett

1000 Word Challenge

Book Reviews

First Chapters

Author Tips and Tricks

Blogs | Articles

• The Mouse Family That Lived by the Brambles

by Gez Robinson

• 77 1/2 Herbs — Catnip by

Ronesa Aveela

• Being Autumn by Sarah

Hindmarsh

• Going Back to my Routes by Tom

Benson

• Tall Tree Tales by Sylva Fae

• Poem: Milking by Pearl Oliver

• Recipe: Zucchini Bread

by Melanie P. Smith

• Would My Wish Work Again?

By Joe DeRouen

• An Old Man and His Death by

Sarah Hindmarsh

• Growing Bookworms — by

Robbie Cheadle

• Mrs. Bellin’s Sugar Lumps by

Sarah Hindmarsh

•

Editorial Team

EDITOR –IN– CHIEF

Melanie P. Smith

https://melaniepsmith.com/

CONTENT EDITOR…

Sylva Fae

https://www.facebook.com/SylvaFae

COPY EDITOR…

LaPriel Dye

https://dyenamicsediting.com

CONTENT WRITERS…

Sarah Hindmarsh https://www.facebook.com/Sarahhindmarshauthor Ronesa Aveela https://ronesaaveela.wordpress.com/ Creative Edge https://www.creative -edge.services/

REVIEWS...

Mom’s Favorite Reads Review Group

PUBLISHER...

MPSmith Publishing

MPSmith Publishing and Connections eMagazine does not endorse any information contained in the articles or advertisements throughout this magazine. All contents are Copyright © by the individual authors and used with their permission. All rights reserved.

♦ Ronesa Aveela

♦ Donna Conrad

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Interview with a Killer

The detective that interviewed

Flashback to the 70’s and Utah was a pretty groovy place to live. Bell bottoms were in style, kids spent the day outside riding bikes or building forts, we had Shasta the Liger at Hogle Zoo, stargazing at the Hansen Planetarium, and Donny Osmond. In addition to the Log Flume, Lagoon theme park had a rickety, wooden roller coaster, outdoor fun, and the best concerts in town.

On the not so groovy side a killer was abducting and murdering young Utah girls.

If you’ve ever typed Ted Bundy into your favorite search engine, you know how easy it is to get lost down the rabbit hole. Everyone has a theory, myths are perpetuated as fact, and it ’s nearly impossible to uncover the truth. What’s a girl to do? Interview the investigator, of course.

I sat down with retired homicide Detective Dennis Couch from the Salt Lake County Sheriff ’s Office to talk about his career, his experience dealing with a notorious killer, and his thoughts on some of the myths surrounding Bundy ’s time in Utah. Detective Couch was one of the last people to speak with Ted Bundy prior to his execution.

This is his story…

Detective Dennis Couch (Left) and Sheriff Pete Hayward (Right) Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office

Let’s start with a question about you. We know you worked for the Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office as a homicide detective during the reign of notorious killer Ted Bundy. What people might not know is how well-respected you were by your peers. Deputies that worked the road knew, if they had a question, you were the go-to guy. I’ve also been told you always treated fellow deputies with respect from the newest rookie to the most seasoned officer. Tell us a little about your journey. How did you end up in Utah? What made you want to become a cop, and why homicide?

I was born in Des Moines, Iowa in 1942. I attended Jr. College in Des Moines, graduated after two years and was offered a scholarship to come to the University of Utah and play basketball to help beat BYU. I accepted the offer and came to Salt Lake and the University of Utah in 1963. I had one year of eligibility and after I completed that, I decided to stay in Salt Lake City. I liked the community and the atmosphere.

I was then hired as a deputy and began my career on the road, working patrol.

I have police in my background. My father was a police officer, my uncle was a police officer, and I had a cousin that was a police officer in Des Moines, Iowa. Both my father and my uncle were detectives and I grew up in that world. So, I decided I wanted to get into police work. In 1967, Salt Lake County was not hiring deputies, but they offered me a position in the jail. I took them up on the offer and worked there until 1969.

In approximately 1972, or ‘73, I transferred to the Detective Division. At that time, the Detective Division was just one big division. There weren’t separate squads. Around 1973 or ‘74, it was broken down into different squads and I was moved to homicide. A short time later, I was given the opportunity to work as an investigator with the Salt Lake County Attorney ’s Office. I was granted a leave of absence from the Sheriff’s Office, and took the job with the County Attorney’s Office, but quickly realized it wasn’t right for me. I returned to the Sheriff’s Office, worked white-collar crimes for a while, and eventually transferred back to homicide. At that time, the unit which consisted of Sgt. Ben Forbes and Detectives Garth Beckstead and Jerry Thompson was deep into the Bundy investigation.

Unless attributed, Images throughout article © MPSmith Publishing

Through his involvement in the case and personal contacts, Det. Couch was given the textbook Ted Bundy used in one of his courses at the University of Utah.

It was stamped with his Seattle address, rather than his temporary Utah apartment.

When you were growing up, did you think you would become a cop or were you focused on basketball?

Mostly focused on basketball. I wasn’t big on school but I loved playing basketball. I knew I couldn’t make a living with basketball, so I fell back on police work because it always interested me.

If a person wants to learn about Detective Dennis Couch, that research will likely bring up interviews and news reports about Ted Bundy. And, while that case has always dominated the headlines, you worked on a lot of other cases. Is there one that has stuck with you? We often hear from those who worked homicide, that there was one case they’ll never forget — maybe it went cold, maybe the system didn’t give the level of justice the victim deserved, maybe it’s a case that was difficult and nearly impossible to solve but through tenacity and hard work you were able to get justice for the family. Do you have one of those cases and are you willing to talk about it?

There are a few cases at the top Bundy being one of them. But, there was one that comes to mind. It was the homicide of an elderly woman that was living by herself and her body was found just inside her front door. Her chest was completely caved in from being stomped on and jumped on. She was an eighty-plus-year-old woman and she had been raped by an object. That case was never solved. We had a very good suspect in mind but we could never put the evidence together to resolve it. So, that has kept me awake a few nights over the years.

And then, another case that comes to mind there are quite a few cases, actually. Another one that is up at the top is a poor young teenage girl that got pregnant and had a baby with her boyfriend. It turns out, he had a record, I don’t know if she knew that. She delivered the baby, and was kind of pushing him to help probably threatening him. Finally apparently he sweettalked her into accompanying him on a ride. She ended up being shot to death and her body was left in the foothills up at the Kennecott Mine. Her baby was found in the Jordan River. Apparently, he killed the mother and on his way home, he stopped and threw the baby in the Jordan River. He was convicted and went to prison but only served approximately ten years before he got out.

The Bundy case would be up there because there were so many lives taken. So much revenging and destruction; and, it left a lot of broken hearts with the families. It was also very frustrating that we could not locate some of the bodies and give the people closure for those murders.

Give me your opinion on the Bundy trees — fact or fiction?

Complete bunk. I asked Bundy about it and he denied that. That didn’t make any sense to me — no.

Excerpt from Interview...

Couch — Let me ask you another question before you lose your train of thought, we have reported to us that there was some carvings in trees… did you ever carve your name in a tree?

Bundy — Never.

Couch — Ok because I think there was one down in that area someone carved the name Ted Bundy and put a date on it… we think three or four of those trees, in different mountain areas. That wasn’t something you did?

Bundy No, no.

Now, let’s get into the Bundy investigation. In cases that involved serial killers or mass casualties, the focus is typically on the individual that took so many lives.

However, for law enforcement, the focus is on the victim and the families of the victims. We know Bundy was cocky, arrogant, and narcissistic. His story has been told a million times, in a million different ways. I’d rather focus on the victims. Is there anything that pertains to the victims or the investigation that you would like people to know? Something that would humanize the girls that were killed, instead of sensationalizing the killer?

I guess it goes back to the frustration that, for reasons that were out of our hands we could not find these bodies. It’s extremely unfortunate and it’s extremely frustrating but the details of the whole situation are such that that’s the way it ended up. Mr. Bundy tried to help us, I believe, in locating them but it was just out of his hands actually, to take us right to the bodies I honestly believe that he was trying to help.

I have one more question about the victims. There are five victims that are commonly associated with Utah — Nancy Wilcox, Melissa Smith, Laura Anne Aime, Debra Kent and Susan Curtis. But there are three other women that are considered possible victims. Do you think there were eight victims in Utah; or, do you think there were only the five?

Well, I went there with five names. We eventually came up with the sixth name Susan Curtis; but, Nancy Baird was given to us. I guess the Sheriff up in Davis County contacted Pete Hayward and said we have a murder victim up here. She was working at a Gas-N-Go and she was taken from the store. Her body, was located and we think maybe Bundy might be a suspect. Would you ask your investigator to ask him about that. So, I was just given the five names and I went to question him.

Bundy said no. He was not involved in Baird’s death. He admitted to the other four names that I had but denied killing Baird.

Was he credible on the no? Are you confident that it ’s a no?

I felt very credible on that. On what he was telling me, yes. Based on his demeanor and his desire to provide information it felt credible.

Nancy Baird

Excerpt from Interview...

Dennis Couch There are two other gals who are missing. Further up, there was Nancy Baird who worked at a gas station, July 4th?

Ted Bundy — Yeah.

Dennis Couch — That was in ’75, July 4th. Do you recall what type of place it was she was working at or where it was located, on which highway?

Ted Bundy — No I didn’t have anything to do with that.

Dennis Couch — Nancy Baird?

Ted Bundy — No, I don’t know anything about that disappearance.

Bundy provided the information on Susan Curtis. After the interview, I left the prison, went to Jacksonville, got a hotel room, and then flew out the next morning. I went to work on Tuesday morning. I don’t know, four or five o’clock in the morning — something like that. I got to work and received a phone call from the Assistant Warden. He said they were taking Bundy to the holding cell next door to the electric chair, and Bundy said “Who was that investigator from Utah.” They told him Dennis Couch and Bundy said “I need to tell him about one more.” They took him into an office and recorded his statement.

That’s where her name came into it. We did not know about Curtis ahead of time. Maybe our missing person squad did, but not Homicide.

June 1975, Bundy said he was driving through the BYU campus and picked up a young girl. He said he wasn’t good on details. He didn’t want to talk details. I guess he just couldn’t stand reliving those details that’s the impression I got. Anyway, he picked this girl up on campus and said her body was down south of Price. In his words, out in the boondocks — up in the mountains.

She was on the campus for a kind of week long seminar and the last day they were having a banquet at the union building. She went to that, kind of all dressed up.

She got sick and told her friends she was going back to the dorms and she was never seen again.

Susan Curtis

How about Sandra Weaver, 19, Last seen in Salt Lake City on July 1, 1974; her body was found the next day in Grand Junction, Colorado. There are conflicting reports as to whether Bundy mentioned her in his confessions.

No, that’s not our homicide squad. No conflicting reports to us. I’ve never heard of that.

Investigating Ted Bundy — Charming, Articulate, Intelligent… and Deadly

What about Debbie Smith? Last seen in Salt Lake City; her body was found at Salt Lake International Airport on April 1, 1976. Yes, I remember that. And if that’s the same case, it was resolved by a gentleman that ended up in prison up in Montana. I think, but I’m not sure about that. I don’t believe she was connected to Bundy.

When you got that call to head to Florida, what was your mindset? Initially, a thirty-minute restriction was placed on the interview that was later extended to an hour. Ted Bundy liked to manipulate and control the situation. Was your strategy different than usual, or did you rely on the same interview techniques that had served you well in the past?

Bundy’s attorneys called our office. Well, let me go back to 1988. Bundy had a date for execution. Detective Beckstead and I were assigned to go out to Florida and talk to him about our cases. We flew to Florida and his attorney said no, we’re not going to talk to you. We told them we would be there if they changed their mind. So, we stayed a couple days until the day of his scheduled execution. They never called.

He got a stay of execution. So, we went down there for nothing and went back to Salt Lake. I think there was a whole year before he got another date. Apparently, in ‘89 his attorneys called Hayward. They had an execution date and said they were ready to talk. Rather than send two of us again, Hayward decided to send one. Bundy and Det. Thompson did not get along so Hayward decided not to send Thompson. Why he picked me, I don’t know.

I went to Florida on a Thursday. His execution date was on Tuesday. I checked into a motel and had only been there for a couple hours when I got a phone call from a female stating she was one of Bundy’s attorneys. She said she would let me talk to him

Bundy’s attorney called back a short time later and rescheduled my interview for Sunday night. It was clear they were only talking to people who had the authority to request a stay. I was given one hour — take it or leave it.

Sunday came and I headed down to check out of the motel. I knew the place would be swarming with reporters after the interview and I didn’t want to return. I went to the desk to check out and was given an envelope from Hugh Aynesworth.

First of all there was a note for me in the envelope. As well as a second envelope there for Ted. I didn’t find the chance to talk to him about it, or deliver it but I kept it.

I checked out and headed to the prison.

Once I arrived, I was escorted back to the deep halls of the prison — the maximum security area. They put me in an office with the other investigators that had already talked to Bundy several times. We weren’t there too long before we could hear the chains rattling, coming down the hallway and we assumed it was Bundy his leg irons. Somebody opened the door and said “Couch, you’re first.”

I walked into the office, Bundy was sitting behind a desk and he had his chin buried in his chest. There was an FBI agent or profiler sitting in the corner. I introduced myself to Bundy and wanted to break the ice; so, I mentioned a mutual friend, a catholic priest that was a friend of mine who also served as a chaplain in the Utah State Prison and got to know Bundy while he was there.

Bundy raised his head and said “Oh, he’s a good man.” It kind of broke the ice, so I began. It was kind of unorthodox, the way I had to question him. First of all, I’m not going to advise him of his rights. And I felt guilty about not doing that, you know that’s the way we’re trained. Here’s a multi-murderer that I have to talk to about multiple murders and I’m not even advising him of his rights. So, I just started right up.

Bundy came to Salt Lake in 1974, September to attend the University of Utah law school. The first event is the disappearance of Nancy Wilcox. She was a young teenage girl that lived up in the Holladay area. She apparently had a disagreement with her mother one night and decided she had to go walk it off. She left the house and was never seen again. This was on October 2, 1974. She was never seen again and her body was never found but Bundy did eventually take responsibility for murdering her.

Couch asked Bundy if the body of Nancy Wilcox was left in the same area as Kent. Bundy said no. Couch again attempted to discuss the details, what Nancy was wearing, where he took her, how he killed her. Bundy refused to discuss it.

Finally, Bundy put an X on a map down by Torrey. Torrey, Utah, which is quite a drive. That ’s all he would do is put an X and said I think this is the area. He would not talk about any details. Again, I never got any details.

Nancy Wilcox

The next incident was on October 31st, so that was about two weeks after Melissa Smith, now Laura Anne Aime has gone missing from Utah County. Her body was found not quite a month later up in the foothills, the Timpanogos area, I think. That was on November 27th when her body was found.

Bundy admitted to killing Aime but just like Melissa Smith, he would not discuss that case because her remains had been located.

It was reported that Aime’s mother reminded her daughter of Smith’s fate when she set off hitchhiking on Halloween night in Utah County.

I asked him about Debra Kent. He requested a map, so we got out a map and a pen. When the map wasn’t detailed enough, he requested a topographic map but we didn’t have one available. So, we got out a map and he took a pen and got down around Thistle on the highway that leads to Price to the intersection at 89 going south down to Salina and Manti. He started down the highway and said “Uh, I think this is it here.” Then he drew an X in the approximate area. He said there was a gate on a fence and there was a dirt road and I think it was up here. Then he drew the X.

Excerpt from Interview...

Bundy — No, what I’d like to do, I mean, under the circumstances… [sigh] I think we need… I’d just like to, let’s just get a map out.

Couch — Unfortunately, I don’t have a map of Utah.

Bundy — Alright I think… guess what… let’s just see what we have.

Couch — The best I can do…Ok, here we’ve got a map of Salt Lake City.

Debra Kent

Laura Anne Aime

Bundy — Shit. I knew it…

Couch Not a good enough map, huh?

Bundy — No… it’s just… everything looks the same. It used to be a problem back when I lived there. Dammit.

I asked how he made contact with Kent. He said that’s not important. The important thing is to try to find them. He didn’t want to talk about the details. And I honestly believed that he couldn’t relive the details but I felt like he wanted to find them for the parents.

He did shed some tears when we were talking about Debbie Kent. And he made the statement he said, I’m not feeling sorry for myself, but I’m feeling sorry for the Kents. And I don’t know why he said that about the Kents and nobody else. I don’t know if he was really rough on her, or if he made a connection I don’t know what it was.

Anyway, we did that with the two missing bodies Debra Kent and Nancy Wilcox. Of course, you have to understand he paused a lot. It was almost like he was taking a nap on me. Because of the circumstances I had to completely change my interview techniques. He was going to be dead in thirty-two hours.

I knew if I didn’t get the information, whatever information I could, I wasn’t gonna get it at all. So Bundy was in charge and it was frustrating that way disappointing. We got the Search & Rescue people out in those respective areas and couldn’t find the bodies. Even the one down in Price, they couldn’t find the bodies. So, all-in-all it was a failure.

And finally, when we got through all five, he said I’ve had enough, I can’t talk anymore and then he ended the interview.

The only good thing is, we helped stop Bundy, I guess. Utah police departments got lucky. Or he got sloppy, you know on the DaRonch kidnapping. That was kind of the catalyst that started his downfall and then getting arrested in West Valley City, with his lights off on the car. He got busted and went to jail for possession of burglary tools. He had a backseat full of torn sheets, toy handcuffs, blanket, and then there was the missing seat. So it was very suspicious and he was arrested for that.

With Debbie Kent up in Bountiful, she was at some kind of event at the school auditorium and she had to leave to pick her brother up. That was just after ten and it was the last time she was seen, but they did find a toy handcuff key in the parking lot.

And of course, Carol DaRonch had a toy handcuff on her wrist. Bundy tried to subdue her when she was trying to get away. He slapped one handcuff on one of her wrists before she escaped. That coupled with —I believe there was a toy handcuff in the backseat of his car when he was arrested out in West Valley City. So they started putting it all together and said we’ve got something going here.

That leads me to my next question. Trooper Bob Hayward attempted to stop Bundy on his way home from work because he didn’t belong in the neighborhood. That resulted in a short chase and ultimate apprehension of a violent and prolific killer. It has been reported that initially, after the arrest, it was believed the items in his vehicle were burglary tools. Did police make the connections to the attempted abduction of Carol DaRonch and the murders from an odd handcuff key or something else? Can you explain what happened for those who don’t know? How did detectives know they had a serial killer in custody?

That’s my understanding. Bob Hayward, I think he was a sergeant, maybe a lieutenant on the Highway Patrol. He’s Sheriff Hayward’s brother. He was within a block or two of his home and out comes this Volkswagen that has it’s lights out. I’m not sure if it was around midnight or later in the morning. But, he did get him pulled over and saw enough that he knew he had something very suspicious going on; so, he called his brother, Pete Hayward.

Image

He said I think you should have one of your detectives come and take control of this situation. So, Darryl Ondrak went out, arrested him and took him to jail.

Was he arrested for possession of burglary tools?

Yeah, there’s nothing on the books that says having some torn sheets in your backseat is against the law, so burglary tools was the closest thing they could come to. I don’t know how that all came down to get the criminal charges from the County Attorney’s office, or what he was actually charged with. They just knew something was going on. I don’t know if Bob Hayward was aware of it, but the detectives that got the case the following day knew of Carol DaRonch and the handcuff on one of her wrists. Our homicide unit was working with Murray on the DaRonch kidnapping and immediately understood the significance.

I don’t know at what point in time we got the information from Davis County about the handcuff key up there but they eventually got that — the handcuff key that fits a toy handcuff that was dropped in the parking lot. So then, they knew they had something going; and they found out who he was and where he was from. I mean, they already knew who he was but they found out he was from Seattle; and, of course, they had a bunch of murders up there. So, they started putting all of that together. They charged him with the burglary tools but he was able to bail out of jail. He was subsequently rearrested on the kidnapping of DaRonch. He bailed out of jail on the kidnapping as well, but had to appear for trial. He was found guilty and sent to prison in 1976 for the kidnapping. He remained there until he was extradited to Colorado.

ALCATRAZ EAST CRIME MUSEUM, TN

The Carol DaRonch incident happened on November 8th. She was at Fashion Place Mall. I remember when I initially heard about the case, I always thought it must have been during the day. But she was there at eight o ’clock in the evening, that’s what my notes show. She was inside of the mall, it was quite crowded, and a gentleman came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and he flipped what she thought was a police badge. He indicated he was a police officer and her car had been stolen. He asked her to come with him to the police station to fill out a form. She agreed. She followed him out to the parking lot; but when they got to the car, it was a Volkswagen Beetle, and she said this isn ’t a police car. He told her he was working undercover narcotics and it was okay. She got into the car and they started to leave. Now, she’s thinking this doesn’t feel right. She didn’t feel good about the situation and she wanted out of the car. He’s shifting gears, trying to drive around traffic and he couldn’t control her. Finally, he had to stop. He put a handcuff on her wrist, but she was still able to get away from him once he stopped the car. So, now, after probably over twenty murders, Bundy’s finally lost a victim a potential victim.

I didn’t notice this until later on — I didn’t hear anyone talking about this — but on the same night, he lost control of DaRonch, he went straight up to Bountiful and just after ten he abducted Debra Kent. When I realized that, I’m thinking, my gosh, he must have been frothing at the mouth. This was the first time it’s ever happened to him. It was the first time somebody got away from him. He should have thought , I better go hide. I better go home and get

Carol DaRonch testifying

under my bed. Anyway, that’s my thinking. Instead, he goes all the way up to Bountiful to find another victim. Of course, he was probably thinking they’ve got a description of my car, they’ve got a description of me, I gotta get out of this area. So, he goes 15 -20 miles north to Bountiful, thinking word wouldn’t get out up there.

He had to find a victim, he had to go kill somebody that night. I mean, that’s just… that’s creepy. I mean, of course, the whole thing is creepy, but this is just creepy on creepy. So anyway, there goes Debbie Kent all in the same day. That was just very intriguing to me. And yet, I never heard anybody in the investigation talk about that.

So things didn’t really start breaking loose until August of 1975 and that’s when he was arrested in West Valley. Up until that, everyone was just looking for a Volkswagen Beetle. After that initial arrest, he bailed out but was re-arrested at the beginning of October. It took about two months to put together the DaRonch case. Bundy was brought in to participate in a lineup but he had changed his appearance. Still, DaRonch easily identified him. He was charged, and this time remained in jail for approximately eight weeks before he bailed out again that November. He was allowed to stay out on bail until he went to court the following year at the end of February 1976. The trial ended that March and he was transported to prison.

Bundy was out of jail for quite a while. Still, we didn’t have any additional killings or missing people during that time — at least not in Utah.

Image property of Murray Police Department

Bundy was living in a large house up by the University that was made into apartments. There were several apartments inside of this old home and Thompson got a search warrant for the apartment and the car. They searched both areas.

Now it’s said that Bundy bragged about how he cleaned up the Volkswagen, I think to the Washington investigator. Then, I guess he had a conversation with a detective sometime later and claimed Det. Thompson screwed up. Bundy said he had a storage area down in the basement of this apartment building but they didn ’t search it. Now, I can’t confirm this, but Bundy claimed he had some photographs that would have been damaging to him and his case. Whether they were of the victims or what I don’t know… but he bragged about how Thompson and Beckstead didn’t pick up on that. So, they didn ’t include it.

He claimed when he bailed out, he destroyed them.

Then, once he went down to Florida, he was acting like — somebody please catch me and stop me. You know, he was so up front and bold about what he was doing down at that sorority house — bludgeoning those girls and biting that one on the breast. That ’s what did him in, was the bite marks. And then he leaves and kills a young girl. I think he was just running amok down there. Maybe, it’s a modern day Jekyll and Hyde.

Today, detectives have a lot of tools in their arsenal that you didn’t have back then. Is there one thing available now, you wished you had back then? Anything, whether it’s scientific advancements, technology, GPS, or DNA that might have helped give the loved ones of these victims the closure they desperately needed?

I don’t know what it would be. There’s a lot of new technology data or assets out there that are very helpful and that you just mentioned, but I don’t think there was anything that would have helped us in this case.

What about a better map?

The thing about Bundy is, he described the area, his route, and put the X down in the general area. Later on, when we couldn’t find the bodies I was thinking if I put 20 thousand dollars into a coffee can, and I was a stranger in Utah, and it was in the middle of the night, and I went down to Southern Utah, and planted that can could I find that 15 years later? That would be 20 thousand dollars that I’d really like to have, you know. I think I’d be hard pressed to find that unless I marked some trails or something like that.

But my overall impression was that Bundy wanted to help find the bodies and fess up to what he had done, but he didn’t want to touch on the details. Now, whether he wanted to do that for the families, or whether he wanted to do that for him and the Maker the Big One up above I don’t know. But it’s one or the other. I think he was very sincere. And my conviction was strengthened when I got the information about Susan Curtis. He had no reason to pull my chain, or troll with me, or throw that out when it wasn’t true about him doing Sue Curtis. At that point, he had nothing to gain.

Finally, is there anything else you would like to add?

It’s just aggravating that I couldn’t pull some more information from him about the details, you know? And maybe, I should not have capitulated to his to the potential of him saying get out of here, I don’t want to talk to you. Maybe, I should have said to hell with it, I’m gonna go for it anyway. Or no, you’ve gotta tell me the details. But, I was worried I’d get nothing. So, I backed off. It was also disturbing that I had to sit there in the motel and not be able to join in when those guys were interviewing him because they had a rep from the attorney general’s office and I didn’t. Because by the time I got to him, he was exhausted just a whipped pup.

Thank you again for taking the time to share your experience with me. I really appreciate the interview and thank you for your many years of service to the citizens of Salt Lake County. We owe you a huge debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.

The Mouse Family That Live By The Brambles

by Sylva Fae

Photography by Gez Robinson

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

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

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

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

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

https://www.facebook.com/bramblemouse

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

Instagram: gez_robinson_photography

TikTok: @mousefamilybythebrambles

Ronesa Aveel a

Magical portal to another world.

Dangers lurk in Dragon Village, but also secrets. Can Theo solve the mysteries before an evil creature conquers the magical and human worlds?

♦ Do you have an adventurous soul, ready to encounter strange magical creatures?

♦ Have you ever wished you could travel through a portal to another world?

♦ Do you love the reluctant hero, strong female friends, and quirky sidekicks?

If this sounds like you, then step through the gate into the magical world of Dragon Village. Imagine waking up to the rumble of falling water, the scent of spring, enveloping you with radiance and caressing your soul with the thrills of an intoxicating melody. You are next to a small pond where the frogs are lying on green water lilies. Leaves sway from the game of playful fish.

Above you rises the crown of a mighty tree, and on top of it shines like a sun the Firebird. Its colors are like Zuna, the rainbow, arching like a dome over your head.

You are still sleepy and haven’t yet woken. From the tree emerges the image of the bird’s patroness, drifting like a morning mist with a soft smile on her marble face. She’s holding a crystal ball.

At the same time, a shadow covers the sky. Above you flies a herd of six-winged deer with glittering amber balls between their horns..

Seated on them are women like Amazons, brandishing whips of snakes. The warriors descend with a thud onto the green grass. These beautiful and dangerous Samodivi are dressed in white robes. Their hair floods their bodies like wild foam.

Something disturbs the idyllic moment. The clanging of bells. A group of masked men dance madly. The belt of bells around their waists creates a din that chases away a Karakonjul, a half-man, half-horse creature. The beast shakes his head furiously and turns his one bloodthirsty eye toward you.

A screech adds to the clamor as a house on chicken legs approaches. On its chimney perches a winged purple cat. Not far behind, swimming through the air with a pestle and mortar, the infamous Baba Yaga orders her transportation about with oath after oath.

You try to hide behind the trunk of the tree, encouraged by the smile of the Firebird’s patroness, but something grabs you by the legs. Sharp nails dig into your skin. A bloated, green man with bulging, watery eyes tries to pull you under the water. A Vodnik, a water spirit. You manage to escape. You run, and run, and run. When you think you’ve succeeded, you fall into a dark forest of withered trees, whose bony arms stretch out to grab you.

Amber lights illuminate the trees. Are they fireflies?

No, they’re glass spheres, hundreds of spheres filled with souls.

You close your eyes hoping to wake up from this dream, nightmare. Silence ...

Suddenly, hot air breathes onto your face. You open your eyes and scream. A gigantic dragon's eye pierces your soul.

You close the book’s cover. For this was not a nightmare, but an adventure. You snuggle into your warm bed. Everything around is quiet. The monsters remain hidden between the pages … until you let them loose again the next evening.

This is the world of Dragon Village – Zmeykovo. The books will take you to a world full of familiar and unfamiliar creatures from Bulgarian and Slavic folklore. You will meet a young boy's friends and experience their joys and sorrows.

Laughter, surprises, fear, nightmares ... a recipe for a wonderful adventure.

To become a part of this adventure, join Ronesa Aveela’s Kickstarter campaign. The launch date is set for late September or early October. Sign up to follow it now so you’ll be notified the moment the campaign launches.

If you’re unfamiliar with Kickstarter, it’s a way to get products before the general public. You get not only the books, but also lots of other goodies you won’t find on any retail store. We have fun things planned for this campaign.

If you love DRAGONS, you won’t want to miss this opportunity.

Kickstarter link:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/ronesa-aveela/dragon-village

The Complete Series

1.

3.

Ronesa Aveela is two authors. Nelly was born in Bulgaria and moved to the US in the 1990s. She grew up with stories of wild Samodivi, Kikimora, the dragons Zmey and Lamia, Baba Yaga, and much more.

Rebecca was born and raised in the New England area. She has a background in writing and editing, as well as having a love of all things from different cultures. She’s learned so much about Bulgarian culture, folklore, and rituals, and writes to share that knowledge with others.

Connect with us at www.ronesaaveela.com

77 ½ Magical Healing Herbs

By Ronesa Aveela

Catnip

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

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

Nepeta cataria

Catnip

Description: On average, the plant grows to a height of about 16 to 40 inches (40 to 100 cm) on square, erect, branched stems. Many downy hairs cover the stalk and leaves, giving

it a grayish-green dusty color. The underside of the heart-shaped serrated leaves is almost white with the abundance of hairs. Small fragrant flowers are pink or white with pale-purple or red spots. The flowers grow in dense whorls out of the leaf axils on short stalks, which, closer to the top of the plant, form spikes. The plant produces a dry seed capsule, which contains four nuts. The short rhizome has many branching roots.

History and Traditions: The genus name may come from an Etruscan city named Neptic, today known as Nepi, while the specific name means “pertaining to cats.” The common name is derived from how the plant ’s smell attracts cats and the druglike effect it has on felines that eat or roll in the dried leaves. Since catnip is a distant relative of marihuana, this is not surprising. The root is supposed to have the opposite effect on humans, making them more violent. An old story tells how a hangman chewed it to give him courage to perform his duty, and boxers once chewed it before they fought in order to become more aggressive. Ancient Romans added the herb to drinks to treat illnesses, and the plant has been used to relieve stress and help with digestion for a long time.

Habitat and Distribution: Native to Europe, Africa, and Asia, this plant now grows worldwide. It was introduced to the Americas by settlers during the 1600s to 1700s. Catnip grows on grassy, stony locations, near field borders, along roadsides, in wastelands, and has been cultivated for gardens.

Growth: Perennial. The plant flowers between June and November, depending on the location, with blooms lasting for one or two months. Seeds ripen around September or October. The plant dies to the ground in winter, with stems sprouting in early spring. You can divide catnip in spring or plant the seeds. It requires little to no attention after that. The plant can grow in any garden soil, especially if it’s chalky and gravelly, as long as it’s well-drained. Catnip survives through droughts once it ’s established. It can tolerate partial shade, but it grows best in full sun.

Harvesting: Stems, leaves, and flowers are used. The flowering tips are for medical purposes. Cut off the stems close to the base of the plant, and remove individual leaves. Gather the leaves when it’s in full bloom. That’s when the compounds cats love are at peak levels. Wait until the dew has dried. You can also pick the flowers at the same time. Dry them on a screen or drying tray out of the reach of cats. Store whole or crushed leaves in a sealed jar or bag in a cool, dark, dry place. You should be able to harvest plants twice during the growing season.

Medical Use: Catnip is not just for cats; it has medical applications for humans as well. A tea made from both leaves and flowers is good for stomach cramps, indigestion, coughs, flu, fevers, hives, loss of appetite, and nervous conditions, such as anxiety and depression. The herb induces sleep and produces perspiration without increasing the body ’s heat. Its medicinal use is less popular nowadays, however, with the availability of modern medicine for these conditions. When catnip is drunk as a tea, it should be infused, not boiled. The herb also is a remedy for menstrual disorders and dizziness associated with anemia. Adding it to a bath is a way to relieve skin irritations. The root, however, has the opposite effect and makes a person more aggressive and quarrelsome. And smoking catnip has slight hallucinogenic effects.

Rituals and Magical Use: Catnip has a magical association with love of friends, family, and animals, rather than a romantic love. For friendship, warm catnip in your hands, then hold the hand of the person you want to be your friend. As long as you keep the catnip in a safe place, the person will remain your friend. To create a bond between you and your cat, drink catnip tea when you give the cat its own herbs. You can try to keep your wandering feline home by soaking catnip leaves in a bowl of milk under the full moon. When the cat drinks it upon returning from its adventures, it might stop the animal from staying away from home. Catnip also has protective properties. Hanging it in your home or growing it tends to attract helpful spirits that will bring you luck. Chewing the leaves will give you courage.

Other Use: Besides being a recreational substance for cats and a tea for humans, catnip may be grown as an ornamental plant to attract butterflies and bees. It ’s not usually planted by itself for this purpose, but grown along with hyssop and other perennials or included in an herb garden. Catnip ’s leaves and young shoots are added as a seasoning herb to soups and salads, and its essential oil is an ingredient in perfumes. The plant also acts as an insect and rat repellent.

Other Names: Catmint (refers to the genus as a whole and also to the genus Anisomeles), catswort, catwort, catnep, nep.

Aromatic: The plant has a particular mint or pennyroyal odor that attracts cats and excites their nervous systems. To humans, though, the pungent odor has a skunky scent,

CAUTION: Pregnant or lactating women should not use catnip.

Fun Facts about Catnip

While cats are attracted to transplanted catnip plants, they normally leave the ones grown from seed alone until those plants begin to wither, or when they are bruised or transplanted.

Catnip attracts around two -thirds of domestic cats, and even larger, wild ones like lions and tigers are affected by it to a lesser degree.

Cats react to the chemical in catnip because it activates the same part of their brain as sex pheromones. For this reason, catnip doesn’t affect felines until they are three to six months old (Pollux).

Herbs are powerful, but they can also be dangerous.

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

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

77 and a Half Herbs?

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

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

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

Mack Little

Interview by Melanie P. Smith

Mack Little grew up in the Deep South and has accumulated a vibrant experience which she often emulates in her storytelling. Her studies in International Politics and service in the Army have given her impressive perspectives to bring to her novels new layers of intrigues and twists, which are all quite prevalent in her latest novel, Daughter of Hades.

Mack Little’s second installment in her Love and Peace series traces the fascinating and often painful Caribbean history through the life experience of Badu Obosi, who challenges the fury of his ancestors in his quest to marry the beautiful Ekemma.

Badu is mesmerized by the beauty and wit of the charming Ekemma. However, he faces powerful forces bent on keeping them apart. In 1651, twenty-three years later, Badu is a wanted man after leading a slave revolt in Barbados. He is determined to keep his family safe, no matter the risks of torture and death.

Shelter in a Hostile World depicts the strength, resilience, and courage of enslaved and marginalized people in the Caribbean.

The Complicated History of the Caribbean continues by Award-Winning Historical Fiction author, Mack Little

Shelter in a Hostile World skillfully depicts life in seventeenth-century Igboland and Barbados, weaving exciting details about Igbo history as lived experiences rather than a sociological study. This makes Shelter in a Hostile World an exciting historical fiction novella that is still relevant today.

“Little fills us in on the important Caribbean history and how the rules of a terrible trade system changed from one island to another. Envisioning the beautiful settings of Jamaica and Barbados and recognizing their histories illuminates a truth that readers will really benefit from knowing. ”

- Jaylynn Korrell (Independent Book Review)

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

I was born and raised in a semi-rural town just outside of Atlanta. Leaving my small town, I landed smack dab in the middle of another small town to earn a BA in English from the University of Dubuque, Iowa. After five years in the Army, I earned a bonus that paid for my Master of Information Science from the University of North Texas. Upon graduation, I became a medical librarian.

As a librarian, I authored and co-authored several articles for professional journals under the name Felicia Mack Little. I contributed to such publications as the Journal of the Medical Library Association, Medical Research Services Quarterly, and the Journal of Electronic Resources. I have presented at the Medical Library Association Conference, the Texas Gulf Coast Healthy Communities Partnership, and the Special Libraries Association Conference. I co-authored the book Disaster Planning: A How-to-do-it Manual, published by Neal-Schuman Publishers in 2005.

After a while, I revisited my first passion: writing magical, adventurous, and romantic sagas with heroes that reflected the diverse world I inhabit because, frankly, it was frustrating seeing black representation only in terms of social injustices and our struggles.

More recently,I published Daughter of Hades, 2021. It is a Historical novel set in 17th century Caribbean. Among the novel's many awards, it received the Grand Prize for the Chaucer Award for Pre-1750 Historical Fiction category of the Chantincleer International Book Awards, and it was shortlisted for the Hawthorne Prize.

Currently, I rarely leave the confines of my home as I work remotely as an IT Analyst from 9 to 5, and from 5 to 9, I am writing. I do leave the house to travel. Once a year, I try to get to Paris and a little town called Les Trois Moutiers to help renovate the castle.

When did you start writing? Did an event or person prompt you to take that leap?

I remember the first story I attempted to write was a book on the Atlanta child murders. I was twelve and those events were unfolding in real time. However, my full focus at that time was acting and performing. When I became a member of the Atlanta Street Theater, and improv group, I found how much I enjoyed creating the story. I wrote a lot as a teenager. But as with all of my stories for the next thirty years, I never found an ending. It wasn’t until I was forty that I found a method to get me to an ending.

Are you a multi-genre author or a single-genre author? How did you decide what types of book you would write?

I consider myself a multi-genre author. I enjoy writing literary, horror, magical realism, history, and romance. You will find my novels include all of these elements despite their overarching categorization.

When I watch TV/Film or read books that encompass the genres that entertain me, I notice the glaring lack of representation and, in some cases, the misrepresentation of blacks and other marginalized populations. So, to fill the dearth of well-rounded characters from under-represented demographics, I am led to write historical romances like my Love and Peace series. And also, I am drawn to writing urban fantasy.

If you write in multiple genres, do you have a favorite, or is one type of book easier for you to write than others, and why?

I think horror underpins everything I write. So, that’s easier for me, I suppose. Even when writing romantic scenes and even sex scenes, I kinda go for cringey and/or gritty.

What do you want written on your headstone and why?

Death will slay with his wings whoever disturbs the peace of the scribe.

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

Usually, I read an article or film that touches on a subject that fascinates me. I will research it out of curiosity, and somewhere along the way, characters are conceived. I will create character sheets with their history. From that, other characters are conceived, and my plot comes from the character history.

Do you have a mentor that helped or encouraged you to follow your dream of writing?

My contemporaries and writer groups provide such wonderful encouragement and support. Without them, none of what I have written would be possible. I am thankful for them everyday.

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

I do not outline my stories. I have an idea of where I want my story to go the main plot points and which characters I want to follow; but it is the characters who determine where the story goes. I usually end up somewhere completely different than I thought I would. However, since I do have several storylines and subplots going at once, my novel writing software creates the outline for me as I write so that I can get an overview of the story and fill in the holes.

For my characters, I keep extensive character sheets. I rely on these to develop my story. Usually, just knowing who the character is, where they came from, and their personality propels the story for me.

Most of my research is by the seat of my pants. It’s done on the fly as I am writing the story. That usually has to do with the minutiae like what kind of fabric is used in clothes?

How do people cook in the 17th century? Do they clean their teeth, and how? Stuff like that.

But when I am contriving a story, I start with a kernel of an idea, then I read history books, journal articles, and Wikipedia pages about the subject and begin to figure out how I can insert my characters in historical events or how historical events would affect my characters’ journeys. So, I use research to help me determine the plot.

What books have influenced your life the most?

At eleven, I devoured all of Maya Angelou’s books. She inspired me with her life experiences and enthralled me with her lyrical narrative while expanding my worldview. In my twenties, I absolutely loved John Irving. His character development, humor, and human observations were enthralling to me. In my thirties, it was Colleen McCollough the details she used to bring ancient Rome to life transported me. In my forties, Cormac McCarthy was my favorite.

*Winner of the Chanticleer Book Award 2023*

Tell us your latest news

I have recently released a new installment in my Love & Peace series, entitled Shelter in a Hostile World. It follows the journey of Badu Obosi from pre-colonial Africa to his enslavement in Barbados and his escape to freedom. It is a follow-up/spin off to Daughter of Hades.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

I want readers and other content creators to understand there is space for marginalized populations in commercial genres where they are heroes and heroines of tales of adventure, romance, and fantasy.

Is there one person past or present you would like to meet and why?

I want to meet my ancestor Sallie Veal, get her family history, and learn about her life.

How much of the book is realistic?

I strive to base my stories on authentic historical and all other contexts. Even the magical elements in my books embody the cultural and spiritual beliefs of the characters.

What are your current projects?

I am currently writing a prequel to the Love & Peace series. It focuses on the romance of Captain Duff and the Asante Queen, Adelola. Captain Duff is a descendant of the Inverkeithing mores, Africans from Angola who were brought to serve as musicians and other roles in King James’ court in the 1500s, and he is longing to know his ancestors.

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

Excerpt:

Adelola pushed open the doors carved from slabs of cotton trees and entered the king’s sleeping room. Flames writhed languidly in the palm oil lamps mounted along the tall wattle and daub walls. The light somberly reflected on the gold and silver ornaments hung around the vast chamber.

Adelola stood on the clay and stone floor at the center of the room beneath a vaulted ceiling of sewn leaves. She watched as the okomfo carried Danquah in on his litter. Adeben gave directions to lay the king upon his bed.

The palace guards had to help lift Danquah’s large frame above the pile of big silk-cotton pillows that lay on the surface of a block of wood with figural people carved in the sides. The king, who was unconscious now, was unbothered by the jostling of his broken body.

Adelola sat on the steps beside Danquah’s bed and held his hand. Adeben led the okomfo in rituals and incantations. They petitioned the abosom and the ancestors for their intervention. As Adelola laid her head on a cushion next to Danquah’s leg, they began the ritual for nsramuwuo. It was the prayer over a warrior’s death, for Danquah, if he did not survive, will have died defending his nation.

Pick one of your characters and share some of their backstory that didn’t make it into the novel.

Adeola’s first crush/love was a bush hunter, but their feeling went unspoken and unacknowledged through the course of their friendship.

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

Definitely a rustic cabin overlooking a mountain lake. I expect there will be hiking trails to walk and give me inspiration.

“An engaging, swashbuckling tale of love and revenge during the age of piracy. ”

- Kirkus Reviews

Other than writing do you have any hobbies?

I enjoy photography and theoretically I pole dance for fun that’s actually on my to-do list.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

I only hope that the stories I write someday provide a springboard for other writers to tell stories that feature the under-represented in literature. As a straight black woman, I realize I may have some limitations in creating authentic LGBQ characters. As a Black woman, there may be some aspects of Asian culture that I have not been able to tap into. I am ready to receive criticism so that I can learn how to do better with cultures and histories that I don’t have experience with but I would also like to see more stories from the under-represented themselves. And it’s my wish that more mainstream writers take my stories as a cue to be more inclusive with their writing.

Just write. Accountability helps. I have a critique group for whom I have to produce ten pages per week. Even if you don’t know what the story is or if you think you’re blocked, write. Sometimes, you have to write around it or come at it from a different direction. A lot of time, when I feel blocked or don’t know what happens next, I tell the story from a different POV.

Can you share something personal with your readers?

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

Website: https://mack-little.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authormacklittle/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/zenbabie/

Medium (blog): https://medium.com/@feliciamlittle

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/mack-little-bb5609123/

Do you have any holiday traditions? What kind of music do you enjoy? What kind of movies do you prefer? Do you have a favorite author?

I adore Nick Cave, the singer. He inspires my mood when writing. When I go deep into a Nick Cave album, I feel like he’s unlocking the secrets of the universe.

Being Autumn

I arrive in a rush of colour; red and yellow leaves, deep purple blackberries and gold and chestnut conkers. As fast as they flare up the colours turn to dull mud and bare brown branches; leaving orange pumpkins grimacing on doorsteps.

I welcome in the darkness; the return of the rains and the grey clouds chased away

By Sarah Hindmarsh

by the harsh heat of summer.

I usher in long nights curled up in safe places watching silver stars.

And gather bitter sea winds, that redden noses and steal striped umbrellas, paving the way for the first white frosts and the dawn of winter’s chill.

Sarah Hindmarsh is a vet student turned teacher turned writer. She has won, and been nominated for, multiple awards and prizes for her children’s fiction, short stories and poetry, and also writes revision guides and books of writing prompts. She is currently writing her first novel for grown-ups – an LGBT+ high fantasy. In her spare time Sarah likes to compete in various equestrian sports and nap on the sofa with her dog, Kohla. Sarah is also autistic and ADHD, and writes personal essays about living and working as a neurodivergent person in a neurotypical world.

Connect with Sarah Hindmarsh at:

https://www.facebook.com/Sarahhindmarshauthor

Quarter 2

We had some great stories submitted for our last contest. They were included in the previous edition of the magazine. A poll was conducted on our Facebook page where readers could vote for their favorite story. Congratulations to Sylva Fae for her story No Fairytale. Our readers loved your story. For those of you that didn’t get a chance to read Sylva’s amazing tale based on the picture above, you can find it here…

https://view.publitas.com/mpsmith

1st Place Reckoning by Melanie P. Smith

2nd Place The Woman in the Raincoat by Val Tobin

3rd Place — Royal Standards by Tom Benson

Once again, we posted a picture to an amazing group of authors with instructions to tell a story in approximately 1000 words. Each story is unique, compelling and interesting. I guess it just goes to show, that while the picture might be worth a thousand words… those words can be as diverse as the authors writing them.

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

https://www.facebook.com/ConnectionsEMagazine

by Tom Benson

http://www.tombensonauthor.com

Athens, Greece

September 2015

Emma sat outside the bar, sipping her chilled drink, focusing on her boyfriend. Paul had gone inside for directions, but he’d been talking to a strange man for ten minutes.

Paul approached the table, grinning. “We’re leaving the city today.”

The Promise

“We haven’t seen all the main sites yet.”

He sipped his beer. “We’re going to visit a place that doesn’t attract tourists.”

“Is this an apology?”

“For what?” He laughed

“For gambling our holiday money last night.”

“I didn’t lose much, so don’t get uptight.”

You returned to our room at three in the morning, cursing. I don’t associate that with winning.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” He took her hand and played his finger over her multi-coloured bangles. “I promise you today will be special.”

She wanted to believe him. “Okay, where are we going?”

He met her gaze. “It’s a place outside Corinth known as The Palace.”

“That sounds romantic, but is it a palace?”

“It’s an ancient site; apparently, much of it is intact and picturesque.”

Emma grinned. “I can’t imagine there will be many gift shops there.”

“Ambrose said we might find a souvenir in the ruins.”

Emma arched an eyebrow. “I do like a mystery gift.”

Corinth

Paul stopped the motor scooter at a wooden road sign. It was still three kilometres to town, and a nearby damaged wooden arrow pointed towards a dusty road. He half-turned. “Hold on.”

Within five minutes, the road was no more than a bumpy track, difficult to negotiate on a scooter. For twenty minutes, Paul steered around ruts and gouges in the sand. As the path twisted, olive trees grew along both sides, making it appear like a dilapidated driveway. The route continued upwards before bending again to reach a wide, shallow crater.

“Oh my goodness,” Emma cried. “Stop here.”

Paul parked the scooter, and they dismounted. “It’s worth the ride out, isn’t it?”

It’s amazing,” Emma raised her phone. “This is when a good camera is handy.”

The foundations of a massive building and several outbuildings suggested it had been a grand residence. Four prominent columns atop wide steps had clearly been the entrance.

As they wandered around the site, Emma occasionally knelt to take pictures, capturing the Mediterranean light, providing shadows of wall sections and partial doorways.

“I’m puzzled.” She stood, slowly surveying the area. It’s not cordoned, and there are no warning signs.”

“Why would there be?”

“This looks like an excavation site, not normally open to the public.”

“It’s a ruin, Emma.” He chuckled. “This country and its islands are full of them.”

“Apart from a few here on the mainland, there can’t be many as impressive as this.” She began a careful descent, occasionally taking pictures. “I’d like a close look at those steps and the columns.”

They arrived at the ancient entrance, and Paul stood back, smiling, observing.

Emma gently rubbed her fingers over the stone. “There’s barely any sand on these steps, as if they’ve been brushed recently.” She took more pictures before ascending to stand between the remains of the columns. “Look at those mosaic floor tiles in the entrance hall area.” Again, she crouched and brushed her fingers over the area. “There’s something amiss here.” She stood, slowly turning.

“This might prove useful,” Paul said, producing a tattered, folded piece of parchment from a shirt pocket. He unfolded the sheet for Emma.

“Paul, this is an ancient floor plan.” Emma turned the fragile document one way and another. “Where did you get it?” She fixed her gaze on him before flexing the fingers of one hand and the other, sensing cold.

“Ambrose used it as collateral last night when he ran out of money.”

“You’re telling me a local guy paid a gambling debt with this?”

“Well, I’d lost all my cash, and so had he. We ended up with I.O.U.s on the table, and I ended the night with this.”

Emma shielded her eyes from the sun. “Was that Ambrose you were talking to in the bar earlier, when you said you were asking for directions?”

Paul nodded. “He wanted me to return the parchment and offered me a thousand euros. I figured it would be worthwhile to come and find the palace ruins instead.” He paused. “I’m sorry,

Emma. There’ll be no more gambling. From today, I ’ll be a different man.”

“Promises can be hard to keep, but I’ll trust you.”

They wandered from one part of the incredible ruin to another. More than once, Emma shivered.

Paul said, “It’s strange, isn’t it, for us to feel cold under a Greek midday sun?”

I’m glad you’ve felt it too. The farther we go into this ruin, the colder it gets.”

They arrived in a room with two walls bearing the remnants of colourful murals depicting naked lovers. While Emma took pictures of the ancient artwork, and trembled occasionally, Paul knelt in a corner, clawing sand from a damaged wall chamber near the floor.

“Look at this.” Paul dusted off the broad gold bracelet as he held it up, and it gleamed.

Emma smiled as she encircled her wrist and clipped the artefact into place. “You said today would be special ” Her lashes fluttered, and she winced. “Paul … my heart … it’s racing … my breath ”

Paul turned when he heard footsteps. “Ambrose ”

“I’ll have that map, thank you.” The razor-sharp blade glinted briefly in the sunlight. “Goodbye.”

Anastasia turned to her lover as they strolled among the tourists in Athens. “My darling, this body is the prettiest you’ve found me.” She ran her fingers through long lustrous dark hair. “I may no longer be a princess, but with every physical resurrection, I’m grateful we still have each other.”

Ambrose squeezed her hand. “While we have my ring and your bracelet, my love, we’ll always have each other. Five hundred years ago, I said we’d be together forever, and I meant it.”

Going Back to My Routes

The Netherlands is regarded by many as a country of cyclists, and it’ s not a coincidence that one of the classic bicycles in the world is the Hollander. Apart from the numerous adaptations of bicycles and the wide age range of the users, the availability of cycling routes is nationwide.

In Amsterdam, the cycling experience is unique. It is influenced by where you go and your confidence when using pedal power. For example, around the city, there is a likelihood that electric bike, moped, and motor scooter riders will use the cycle path with scant regard for their own or anyone else’s safety.

A different world awaits, however, for the touring cyclist who ventures away from the city to explore the land beyond. The key to enjoying the cycle routes in The Netherlands, particularly Amsterdam, is knowing the signs to look for. I don’t say that flippantly. Road users everywhere have signs with which they should become acquainted, and cyclists must do so if outings on two wheels are to be enjoyed. You should know, for example, when you have the right of way if you’re sharing with pedestrians, mopeds, or motorised road traffic, and importantly, when you ought to dismount. Fortunately, the graphical information is clear, so there’s no need to stop and consult a phrase book.

While caravanning in Landsmeer, a short distance north of Amsterdam, I enjoy early morning rides around the Rondom Watergang Route. The complete route is 35 kilometres (22 miles). It’s difficult to beat the tranquillity of riding a bespoke circuit, which is rarely shared by

anything other than fellow cyclists. While each cycle route is clearly signed to keep you on track, there are many occasions when there is a crossover point. In other words, you can change your mind and create your own journey but still be on great surfaces.

From the Het Rietveen camping and caravan site in Landsmeer, I follow the set route clockwise, passing a windmill before riding through part of Het Twiske, a recreational area and wildlife reserve. Cyclists, joggers, ramblers, and fishermen enjoy the tranquillity of Twiske. Heading east, I pass through Den Ilp amidst the network of polders, following the smooth -paved paths.

The polders are the reclaimed areas drained to provide land to live on or farm. Apart from agricultural farming, there is plenty of livestock in the area. There are several breeds of horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, and poultry. In the UK, there are rolling hills and valleys, where the fields are bordered with hedgerows or dry stone walls, depending on the county. In the Netherlands, the polders have borders, but they are created by dykes and narrow water channels.

The country is famous for being flat and mainly featureless. This is highlighted by several Dutch painters who dedicate a greater expanse of their canvasses to the sky than the countryside. Besides buildings or trees on the horizon, occasionally, a cycle route will cross one of the many ornate little bridges featured throughout the expanded network of irrigation channels.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that due to the nature and design of the polders, there wasn ’t much wildlife to be seen. I’m delighted to report that this isn’t the case. Apart from seeing a deer or a fox,

rabbits and hares are a regular sight during an early morning ride. As might be expected, bird species are in abundance. In the wilderness of Ilperveld, there are godwits, grebe, coots, herons, swans, and several species of geese and ducks. I’ve also seen finches, members of the crow family, plus hawks, kestrels, and a stork.

At checkpoint 21, there is the choice to follow the path alongside the Noordhollandkanal or pay a small fee (less than one Euro) and cross to Ilpendam. The ferry is a simple raft -like structure with a small cabin at one corner, capable of carrying a couple of cars and several bikes. It operates from 7 a.m. until 7 p.m. on weekdays and 8 a.m. until 6 p.m. on weekends. I try not to arrive at that point too early. The crossing takes a few minutes before I’m reacquainted with the joy of the cycle paths.

Arrival in Monnickendam provides the contrast of cycling in a small town. A brief ride through the quiet streets is pleasant and leads to a cycle path that follows the shoreline of the Gouwzee and the Markermeer, large open stretches of water.

Unsurprisingly, at this point, seabirds are abundant, but apart from various gulls, cormorants are not an unusual sight.

I turn away from the coast to head west, amidst the polders, past Zuiderwoude, and around the perimeter of Broek in Waterland, a town with a picturesque community of houseboats on its western boundary. The distinctive structures line one side of a narrow canal, and while a few are simple, others are eye-catching. A few feature an ornamental picket fence running along the outer edge of the accommodation platform or a line of potted plants. In contrast, others are adorned with hanging flower arrangements. Most are brightly and tastefully decorated. The owners of the residences are conscious of the interest shown and make an effort to make the stretch aesthetically pleasing.

Het Schouw is where I make another brief ferry crossing, enabling me to traverse the Noordhollandkanal to return to Landsmeer. On arrival at the other side of the water, the cycle route passes between fields, through woodland, and around the periphery of a residential area.

One Sunday morning, I was passed by a team of twenty riders in their matching racing gear. I first became aware of their approach when I heard the distinctive buzz of the multiple bikes. Many of the riders waved and called a cheerful greeting in Dutch, and I, in turn, called out “Good morning” several times. The later responses from the group were in English.

several options available, always in distinctive livery. On my earlier trips to Amsterdam, I would hire a bike, and found it beneficial to be recognised as a tourist by local road users.

I’ve been caravanning on my recent travels, so I carried my racing bike on the back of the car. On these trips, I’ve had no intention of cycling in the city and gained maximum pleasure from riding my bike in the incredible environment of the Watergang routes.

On future holidays to The Netherlands, I’ll happily go back to my routes.

Tom Benson is a creative writer who has published novels, novellas, short story anthologies and a series of five poetry anthologies. He started his writing career in 2007, but in his words, “By then, I had learned enough about people and life to make my writing credible.”

http://www.tombensoncreative.com

Tom Benson

By Sylva Fae

https://www.facebook.com/SylvaFae

Red Lights

The hypnotic shush of the waves shifting the shingle, lulls me into a peaceful trance. Eyes closed; I can still see the red imprint of a glowing sun in a cloudless sky, burning through my eyelids. A momentary flicker of guilt passes over. I should go for a walk, paddle in the surf, or read, but I sit motionless until the feelings drift away. The book I couldn ’t wait to start, sits beside me full of promises of adventure and escape but the bookmark hasn ’t moved from inside the cover. It’s just too hot to do much other than sit, sit and ponder.

I shuffle further under the shade but the thin fabric gives little protection from the scorching heat. A gentle sea breeze brings a little reprieve but it is short-lived. A flurry of giggles and excited chatter pulls me from my musings. I watch as children run, shedding clothes on the sand, as they race to paddle in the sea. A mum follows close behind, brandishing a bottle of sun cream, but it’s too late, the children are already splashing through the foamy waves. She sighs and smiles, instead collecting their discarded t-shirts and shorts. Oh, to have that much energy.

The breeze lifts my hair, cooling the rivulets of sweat running down the back of my neck. And with it, scents of tropical fruit, pineapple and mango drift by. I breathe them in and they mingle with the fresh salty air. Down the beach, a waiter pulls a wagon full of sodas. I wave him over, an ice-cold cola is just what I need, maybe it will give me the motivation to read, or go paddle in the sea. I envy the children lying in the cool water.

The waiter sees me and ambles over as I fumble in my purse for some change. Savouring the moment, I first hold the can to my forehead, then down to my chest. The condensation soaks my flimsy sundress but it’s cooling at least. I sip at first, then gulp down the rest feeling the motivation to move flood back with every mouthful.

A gust of wind catches my sunhat and the intense scarlet light fades to gold. I take a last look round this tranquil paradise. The monotonous roar of the surf intensifies to a rattly growl, a flash of green, and I feel myself lurch forwards, and back…

Sadly, I watch the sea and sand blur into the distance until I can no longer see the billboard through the window. I shift uncomfortably as the broken heater blasts tepid air into an already warm car. A heady aroma of sweet mango from the air freshener blends with the stench of sweat and exhaust fumes – I long for the sea breeze of moments ago to refresh my senses but it’s long gone.

Up ahead the traffic lights switch to amber. I gaze out of the passenger window trying to see what new billboards have been pasted up since I last travelled this route. I quickly take in the adverts wondering which I will land on: a smiley family enjoy the new meal deal at McDonalds, Shady Oaks Retirement Home welcomes an old couple, a futuristic ship hovers over an alien planet in some new sci-fi film, and Happy Pets Veterinary Clinic offers a 10% discount to new customers. Anything would be better than this intense heat. Red light. The car rolls to a stop and I close my eyes once more.

The idling engine switches to a metallic whirring, an alarm sounds, bright lights flash and my eyes spring open. Instinctively, I reach forward and tap the screen to silence the noise. I take a moment to enjoy the refreshing cool air, blasting through shiny steel vents above me, then I gaze in wonder at the vast expanse of space through the window of my ship. This one is going to be an adventure…

Tall Tree Tales – new release on Amazon

The Littlest Oak is one of the stories from Tall Tree Tales, first released on a Kickstarter campaign, alongside Ronesa Aveela’s Magical Healing Trees in Slavic Folklore, and now available on Amazon as a paperback and eBook.

I have always loved woodlands and forests, and feel a special affinity with trees. This passion has strengthened as I’ve grown, and has been passed down to my own children. Whether it be the exhilaration of climbing tall trees, the satisfying foraging of delicious fruits and nuts, or just the peaceful relaxation of wandering through a woodland, trees have the ability to rejuvenate my body and soul.

Many years ago, a disastrous camping trip set us off on an adventure which led to us buying our own patch of woodland in the beautiful countryside of northern England. It ’s only small, and many friends thought we were crazy to buy a wood, but it is the best decision we ever made.

I love nothing more than to wander aimlessly amongst my trees, and watch the changing of the seasons. Each tree is special and many have memories attached. My enchanted woodland is often the source of inspiration for my stories, and I’ve planned most of my books sat under a tree, with my mug of campfire coffee in hand.

About Tall Tree Tales

In the quiet of the forest, amongst the rustling leaves and swaying branches, there lies a world of wonder and mystery. For generations, people have looked to the trees for inspiration, guidance, and comfort, weaving stories and myths around these magnificent giants of the natural world.

From the whispering willow to the mighty oak, trees have captured our imaginations and sparked our curiosity, inspiring tales of magic, bravery, and adventure. This book, shares new fables, folklore, and myths inspired by the old, based loosely on the legends and stories that have been passed down through the ages. Take a wander through the woods, and discover the magic that lies within the heart of the forest.

The Littlest Oak

The light was brilliant, a great shining warmth giving energy to the little shoot as she finally pushed her way through the top layer of soil. Slowly she unfurled her crinkled leaves as she reached towards the comforting light. The newest, littlest, baby oak, still clinging to her acorn, had made it to the surface.

High, high above her, the sturdy branches of an ancient oak stretched far and wide. She lowered down a leafy bough and gently caressed the tiny leaves.

"Welcome to the world of light, my little shoot. It's time to grow and take your place in the woodland."

The littlest shoot tingled as she felt the connection, feeling the words flowing up through her tiny tap root. She twisted to see what had called to her, but all around her, the tall grasses swayed in the breeze.

"Up here, little one. I’m Grandmother Oak.”

The little shoot felt the tingle again and looked up to the leafy boughs above. Dwarfed beneath the giant leaves, she followed the thick branch to the gnarled oak tree.

"Am I like you? Will I be big like you? When will I grow so tall?" asked the little shoot.

"Be patient, my little shoot. You are a baby oak tree but you will see many sunrises before you grow to my size. For now, just enjoy your first special day," Grandmother Oak replied, stroking the little shoot tenderly with her giant leafy fingers.

And she did. The baby oak twisted her tiny leaves to follow the sunlight and listened to the wind's music through the trees.

The days went by and the little shoot stretched to reach the giant leaves above. Her two tiny leaves became four and she waved them happily in the sunbeams that sparkled through the trees. She had become a seedling.

Then a strange thing appeared from out of the grasses. It was long, green and squidgy.

The little seedling leant over for a closer look.

"Be careful, my little seedling!” called Grandmother Oak. “That is a caterpillar and he's looking for some lunch."

The old oak reached down a leaf and the caterpillar climbed on.

"But won't he eat you, Grandmother?" The little shoot was very worried. "Quick throw him away!"

"Now you have much to learn, little one. I have many leaves. I can share one with this little guy. In time he will return the favour.”

The little seedling was confused. Life above the ground was full of surprises. “Will I have as many leaves as you, Grandmother? Will I share my leaves with caterpillars too? How can a caterpillar help a giant oak tree like you?” she babbled in excitement.

“Whoah! Questions, questions, questions. Be patient, my little seedling. You will grow many leaves before you will share with the creatures of our woodland. And many moons will go by before you discover how this little caterpillar can help an old oak like me,” Grandmother Oak replied. “It is good that you are curious, but for now just enjoy watching the creatures of our woodland.”

And she did. The little seedling watched with joy, the bugs and birds, the bees and butterflies, as they fluttered and buzzed, scurried and crawled.

The weeks went by and the little seedling stretched and grew, reaching as high as she could. The air grew cooler, but the little seedling danced with the chilly breeze. Her thin trunk swayed as she waved her beautiful green leaves.

Then one day, she noticed her leaves were turning yellow at the edges. It looked so pretty; she danced even more. Over the next few days, her leaves changed, yellow to gold, to bronze, to brown. The little seedling looked up; Grandmother Oak’s leaves were similar shades, and she seemed unconcerned by the changes.

The wind blew harder, and the little seedling’s dance became wilder, until one of her leaves blew right off.

“Grandmother, help!” she cried, “my leaf blew away. Oh no! There goes another one!”

“Don’t worry, my little seedling. This is just the way it should be. Many of us trees lose our leaves at this time of the year.

“But, Grandmother, how can I dance without my leaves? When will they grow back?”

“Be patient, my little one, you will see a few cycles of the moon before your leaves grow back. For now, enjoy the changes this new season brings.”

And she did. The little seedling danced until her last leaf fell, then watched as Grandmother Oak’s leaves swirled down around her to create a carpet of golden brown.

The months went by and the little seedling marvelled at the changes around her. For the first part of her life, she had looked up into the giant leafy canopy of Grandmother Oak. Now, with the leaves gone, she could see through to the sky above.

The little seedling stared transfixed at the millions of tiny lights sparkling above her.

“Grandmother, look! What are those shining lights above?”

“Ah, my little one, those are stars and planets,” the ancient oak replied.

“But where did they come from?”

“They’re always there, but we can only see them when the sun sleeps and the sky is dark.”

“Grandmother, when will I be big enough to reach the stars, like you?”

“Be patient, my little one, you will see many seasons go by before you can reach above the canopy. The stars are far, far away, but you should never stop reaching for them. For now, enjoy the beauty and changes a year can bring.”

And she did. The little seedling watched the seasons change. The cold barren winter slowly changed to spring and the little seedling squealed with joy as her new leaves grew. The chilly spring turned into a warm summer, then back to a windy autumn. She shook her old leaves away in a joyful dance, knowing her grandmother’s words to be true.

A few years went by and the little seedling danced through the seasons. She questioned Grandmother Oak daily about each new change, or creature that visited their little plot of woodland. She grew taller and her trunk grew stronger; she had become a sapling.

Now taller, the little sapling could see further. She looked out through the gaps beneath Grandmother Oak heavy boughs. Beyond the woodland was a vast green space, with strange creatures roaming around it.

“Grandmother, what is that place? What are those giant creatures? Are they dangerous like the caterpillars?”

“That green space, my little sapling, is called a field. There are many of them around our woodland. Those white, fluffy creatures are called sheep, and those tall ones are people.

“What do people do, Grandmother?”

“The people care for the sheep, and the other animals that live in the fields. In turn, the animals provide the people with food and clothing. They must live together in harmony for there to be balance.

The little sapling watched the different creatures in the fields. She saw the people walk by each day. Sometimes they walked into the woods and the little sapling lost sight of them.

Then one day, the little sapling heard a strange noise, and two small people rushed towards her. They dodged round her trunk and clambered onto one of Grandmother Oak walked towards the oaks and gently patted Grandmother’s trunk.

“Grandmother, are you OK? What are these people doing to you?

“Don’t worry, little one. These are my friends. The small people are called children. They lings. They like to play in my branches but they do no harm. The big person is their father. I since he was a small seedling, swinging from my branches. I knew his father too, and his grandfather, and his great grandfather…”

“Wow! You must be very old,” the little sapling said in wonder. too? Will I get to meet their children and their grandchildren?”

“Be patient, my little one. In time, you will be big enough for a child to climb your branches. You will see many children grow up throughout your lifetime, and each one will appreciate the time they spend with you. But for now, just enjoy their company.”

And she did. She watched as the children climbed and hid and swung from branches. She watched as their father cleared away the old branches to take home for his fire, and collected acorns to make into flour.

As many years passed, the little sapling watched, and enjoyed the passing of time. She questioned Grandmother Oak about that which she didn’t understand, but mostly she found her own answers by watching. She had grown tall now, and stood proudly taking her place in the canopy. She could see the stars every night, because she was no longer a sapling, she’d grown into a beautiful tree.

One sunny spring day, the little tree noticed something special at the end of her branches. Alongside the tiny new leaves, small pink buds were forming, and little catkins were hanging from the ends of each twig.

“Look, Grandmother! I have grown my first flowers,” the little tree said, with pride.

“Congratulations, my little one! Let us dance with the breeze to spread the pollen far and wide.”

The little tree danced, and squealed with joy when her precious flowers were visited by a fluttering of multicoloured butterflies, bees and bugs. She welcomed each one to her leafy branches.

“No questions, my little tree?” Grandmother Oak asked as she watched her granddaughter.

“No, Grandmother, but I do now understand something you told me when I was just a tiny shoot,” she replied. “The caterpillar, that I fed with my leaves, has now grown into a butterfly, and it ’s helping me by spreading the pollen from my catkins. When it lands on the flowers of other trees, acorn seeds will grow, then hopefully, new trees will grow from the acorns.”

“Correct, my little tree. We feed the grubs and bugs, and they play a part in growing the next generation of oak trees. All the creatures we support will play a small part. The squirrels who nest in the hole in my trunk will collect acorns to eat over winter. They bury them, and often forget where. Those forgotten acorns will grow into trees just like you.”

“And even the children who play in your branches, Grandmother, they too collect acorns. I’ve watched them throwing the acorns around…… They help too, don’t they?” the little tree asked, but she already knew the answer. “You are so very wise, Grandmother Oak. Will I ever be as wise as you?”

“Be patient, my little one. You are wiser than you realise, and you learn more with every setting of the sun. In time, you will see and learn many wondrous things, and you will be able to teach your own little seedlings about the world. Next spring will be filled with the many questions of new shoots, so for now, let’s enjoy the peace and quiet of our beautiful woodland together. And she did.

Sylva Fae owns a wood where she and her husband run survival courses and woodland craft days. She escapes to the woods at every possible opportunity to enjoy the peace and fresh air. She takes the girls off on adventures in their own enchanted woodland, hunting for fairies and stomping in muddy puddles.

You can connect with Sylva through Facebook https://www.facebook.com/SylvaFae

HOUSE OF THE MOON –SURVIVING THE SIXTIES

Covina, California, in the 1960s is a clean, white place to live just twenty-four miles east of Los Angeles. The maze of threebedroom, two-bath housing tracts is the perfect place for a respectable undercover agent for the State, his wife, teenage son, and two daughters. But beneath the veneer of normalcy lies the truth of a violent, psychopathic father, an alcoholic wife, their pacifist son who is sent to war, and their two daughters prime candidates for a cultural revolution that is gathering recruits with every toke. House of the Moon is a haunting and ultimately triumphant memoir about coming of age during the decade that changed the world. From encounters with Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, and other legends of rock ‘n roll, to loaded shotguns at home, sexual violence in the streets, and flying high on drugs just to get by this fastpaced memoir brings to life Donna’s quest to change the world only to find herself changed by the times.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B00IIEK3DY

Donna Conrad is an award-winning author, journalist, activist, and teacher. Her core values revolve around individual empowerment, a sustaining ideal running through the books she writes. Her writing interests include articles for fine-art periodicals, memoir/ narrative non-fiction, as well as historical, flash, and paranormal fiction. She is a regular presenter at writers' conferences. Donna's life is as varied as her writing. She embraces change as an exciting adventure. She has studied writing with the likes of Alan Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and Jack Whyte.

Her first published book, House of the Moon: Surviving the Sixties, is a memoir that explores life in the tumultuous decade that changed the world. Her upcoming four-book historical fiction series, “The Magdalene Chronicles” has been acquired by Cold Creek Press. Book One, The Last Magdalene, will be released April 9, 2024.

Donna D. Conrad

A Moment in Paradise

By Charity Jacob

“I need a vacation,” I expressed to my husband the moment he came home from work Tuesday evening.

He sighed. “Lani, I know and I’m sorry that I have been working a lot of overtime.” He looked around and Lani was just waiting for his remark about how the place was a mess. “Are the kids asleep already?”

“Yes, though Tommy tried to stay up long enough to see you. Can ’t you try to get home sooner? The kids miss you and I could seriously use a break. I know you ’re just trying to get your company off the ground, but your family is important too.”

He sighed again. He does that a lot when I start complaining about his absence. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband and all that he does to provide for our family, but there has got to be a work-life balance.

He enveloped me in his arms, comforting me. “I’ll see what I can do, okay.” He kissed me long enough to remind me that he loved me before he stepped away to wind down from his long day at work. At least he didn’t mention anything about the state of the house.

Thursday night came and my husband came home to say that we were going camping. He was taking the next day off and they would come back on Sunday. “Time spent in the mountains would be just the thing to recharge both of our batteries.”

“Time on the beach is refreshing, Todd. Couldn’t we take a little bit longer and go visit my parents and the beaches of Southern California? Better yet, let’s go to Hawaii.” The thought of

pushing my toes in the sand and hearing the waves brought a smile to my face.

“Sorry Hon, I can’t afford to be away that long from the office right now. Maybe next year we can manage that.”

I sighed.

“If it helps, I reserved a spot that has a lake. We can spend as much time you want on that beach. I know it’s not quite the same, but it’s still nice and relaxing.”

“Maybe for a mountain boy.” I cracked a smile.

The following morning, we arrived at the campground and the kids were anxious to go explore their new surroundings. I’m sure my husband thought he was giving me a break by entertaining the kids, but he left me, a somewhat newbie at camping to set up camp. At least I didn’t have a five-year-old, a three-year-old, and a one-year-old getting in my way. It would just be me, the bugs, and the little mountain critters.

I had just finished setting up our tent and placed our things inside when I heard my son calling me. “Mom! Mom!” The look on his face made my momma ’s heart happy. “Dad said we can go down to the lake after we get changed into our swimming suits!”

“He did,” I asked him while Todd approached slowly with the younger two.

“I did tell him that we had to make sure that everything was set up at camp first,” Todd clarified. “I see that you managed the tent by yourself.”

“Well, it’s not rocket science.”

“I recall a time or two where you still weren’t sure how to put the tent up.” He smiled. “I must be a good teacher.”

“Oh good, then you oversee Addie’s potty training this weekend. I’m on vacation.” I laughed at his mortification. Addie hasn’t been the easiest to train.

We worked together to prepare for the lake. With our beach bag in hand, we made a quick stop at the restroom before making our way down to the lake. We found a somewhat sandy area to set up our little camp for our time at the lake. My husband helped create some shade by using a sheet we brought along and tied it to a couple of big sticks before pushing the sticks into the sand.

I settled down underneath the shade and looked up to see him pulling out a pineapple from his backpack. I was not sure how I missed him packing a pineapple, but somehow, I did. “I know how badly you wanted to go somewhere tropical, so I decided to bring something tropical to you.” He placed the pineapple next to me. “Relax, read your book. I’ll handle the kids.”

With my big floppy sun hat on, I sat there watching them, preparing myself to dash to the water if one of the kids started to struggle. With my husband’s arms tied up with our youngest, he wouldn’t be able to move that quickly. I snapped some pictures from my phone and enjoyed hearing my children laugh as they splashed in the water with their dad.

A while later the baby started to fuss, so I grabbed my sweet baby from my husband and tenderly rocked her to sleep before laying her down on a makeshift bed. Now that he had his arms free, I felt that I could relax more. I felt a slight breeze and I tilted my head up and basked in the breeze. I closed my eyes and imagined myself far away on a tropical beach feeling the wind on my face. It was as though I could hear the call of the seagulls and smell the salt from the ocean. For a moment I felt like I was alone in paradise.

That moment passed too soon. I blinked and our time in the mountains was over. It was back to reality of a being a full-time potty training mom, referee, and cook.

A week later, I texted Todd about my frustration about Addie messing her pants for the fifth time that day and I wanted to pull my hair out and hide. His response was a picture of me on the beach from our camping trip at the precise moment I was picturing myself in paradise. “Take yourself back to this moment every time you feel like escaping.”

“I love you.” I texted back and proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom. I sat there picturing myself in paradise. The smell of the pine, the pineapple my husband lovingly gave me, the sounds of my children laughing, and the tender moment of rocking my baby to sleep. Paradise had a new meaning for me.

MILKING

By Pearl Oliver

Did you ever try to milk a cow, especially when you didn ’t know how?

You sit on a one-legged stool, this old cow you just can’t fool.

You put your pail between your knees, Gab her tits and start to squeeze.

You don’t know it is time to stop, that old cow didn’t give a drop.

She looked at you sort of shy, switched her tail and hit your eye. She kicked your bucket and tipped you over, what you landed in was not clover.

You gave up milking as a lost cause, you never stopped, you didn ’t pause.

To the house you went to wash off the muck, hope next time for better luck.

About the author in her own words:

I was born April 22, 1920, the third child in seven of Arthur S. and Florence M. Jones. They homestead some land in Colorado. Cut trees from the land and built a log cabin. Dad worked for some farmers for $1.00 a day and his dinner.

We cleared land a little at a time to farm, no machinery, just two horses and a walking plow. We attended a one-room country school. One teacher taught first - eighth grades.

I wrote a few poems when I was in my teens but was afraid I would be made fun of so I wouldn’t show them to anyone, and later destroyed them.

Pearl Jones Oliver 1920 - 2005

By Melanie P. Smith

https://melaniepsmith.com

Prelude to Paradise

Felicia stepped through the double doors and slowly made her way to the gallery. Cool air slid over her skin the instant she stepped into the room. It felt nice a soothing balm to her fragile nerves.

She hesitated at the top of the landing, gripped the railing and slowly descended. She tripped on the second stair and nearly fell, but was able to brace herself just in time. Stupid shoes. She wore them because they matched her dress. A dress her ex-husband would hate, which was the reason she wore it a silent middle finger to the man that promised her the world, then nearly destroyed her.

She wouldn’t think of that not tonight. This was her chance to shine. Her paintings were finally displayed in a gallery, and she was going to show the world, and herself, that she was good enough to succeed.

“Felicia,” Jessica, her agent, rushed across the room. “You’re late.”

“Actually, I’m right on time,” Felicia disagreed.

“Right,” Jessica shrugged. “We started early, but it’s never a good idea to keep deep pockets waiting. I don’t know how you did this, but the turnout is amazing.”

“I didn’t do this,” Felicia frowned. “I thought well, I assumed you did.”

“I guess one of my posts could have been shared with the right person. ” Jessica frowned.

Felicia saw movement near the stairs and turned, then froze. Anger surged through her, and she suddenly knew why all these people were here. Bradley H. Davenport III her ex-husband wanted to steal her thunder. If the event proved successful, he’d take all the credit. If it failed, he’d rub her nose in it. Well, not if she avoided him. She ducked around the corner and into a smaller room.

The walls were covered in paintings abstracts, with bright bold colors and chaotic designs. Not her style, but clearly other people liked this sort of thing. She moved to stand in front of a unique canvas with bright yellows and subtle greens, tipped her head to the side, tried to study it from another angle, closed one eye and squinted, but still didn’t get it.

Felica was about to move on when she felt someone next to her. She froze, worried it was Bradley, but relaxed when she spotted the attractive man in an expensive suit out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at the painting with the same look of confusion she felt. Finally, he turned and focused on her. “Is this your work?”

“Uh, no,” Felicia blushed. “I’m a painter, but my work is um, it’s across the hall.”

“I see,” he took a step back, cocked his head, and frowned. “Nope, I don’t get it. All I see is the aftermath of an exploding pineapple.”

Felicia snorted, then covered her mouth and laughed.

“Much better,” he grinned. “The most beautiful woman in the room should be wearing a smile. I’m Dylan Templeton.”

Felicia’s eyes widened in recognition, but she recovered quickly and accepted the hand he offered. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to the center of her palm. Her entire body tingled at the simple touch.

Dylan leaned forward; his hot breath lingered next to her ear. “And you are?”

“Oh,” Felicia stepped back. “I’m Felicia Dav I mean, McKinley.”

One corner of Dylan’s mouth quirked, and his eyes danced with understanding. “Well, Felicia McKinley, let’s head across the hall and see how your work compares to vomiting fruit.”

“I ”

“Felicia!” Bradley moved forward and blocked her way. “I can’t believe you wore that! What were you thinking?”

Felicia tried to step around him.

“Red?” Bradley blocked her escape. “How many times have I told you black and maybe white, are appropriate colors for social events.”

“I disagree, you look stunning.” Dylan moved closer and wrapped a supportive arm around Felicia’s waist.

“Get your hands off her,” Bradley growled.

“No,” Dylan winked at Felicia.

“Stay away from me, Bradley,” she warned.

“We were married,” Bradley barked. “Don’t embarrass me.”

“You took care of that yourself when you arrived with Sonya Lawton. Clearly a step down, but not surprising for a Davenport. Oh, and here she is.”

“There you are, baby,” Sonya slipped her arm through Bradley’s. “Ooh,” she focused on the painting. “I love this, but what is it?”

“Pineapple,” Dylan and Felicia answered at the same time, laughed, and walked away.

“Thank you,” they entered the room where Felicia’s work was displayed, and she suddenly felt nervous.

“These are yours?” Dylan reached down and linked his hand with hers. “They’re stunning. Are you selling any of them tonight? ”

“All of them,” Jessica answered. “For the right price.”

Felicia glanced around the room. Most of the guests wore black, a few were in white, and a couple wore tans. She slid her hand over her dress, wishing she’d worn something else.

“The red is perfect,” Dylan whispered.

“It was stupid,” Felicia mumbled.

Suddenly, Dylan pulled her out of the room, dragged her into an empty office, and closed the door. “Bradley Davenport is an idiot. The red dress suits you and someone as beautiful as you should stand out in a crowd. I’m pressed for time, but I’d like to see you again. Meet me tomorrow, we’ll have lunch on my yacht.”

“I don’t know,” Felicia began.

“Don’t say no,” Dylan pushed. “One afternoon. If you don’t want to see me again, I’ll honor your wishes.”

Felicia hesitated. This was crazy. She couldn’t just sail out to sea on some rich guy’s yacht or could she? “I’d love to,” she blurted before she could change her mind.

“Great,” Dylan pulled out a card and scribbled on the back. “Meet me at the docks, this address, tomorrow at noon. Now, I really must leave. Such a shame.”

Felicia couldn’t look away. Dylan’s deep blue eyes were locked with hers with such intensity, she thought he might be able to see into her soul. Then suddenly, he turned and strolled out the door. She stood there, breathless but excited not entirely sure what just happened.

The following day, Felicia stood on the dock gazing out over the ocean. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Accepting such a wild invitation from the handsome millionaire was crazy. Plus, she was out of her league, and she knew it. She glanced down and frowned at the white shirt and shorts she’d thrown over her bathing suit. Even the large sun hat she grabbed on her way out the door was a boring tan. Dylan liked the red would he appreciate her flamboyant bikini? Or would he find her silly and extravagant? Maybe this was a bad idea. She turned, determined to escape before he arrived and collided with Dylan’s masculine chest.

Dylan caught the terrified woman, leaned in, and gave her a gentle kiss. “I’m glad you could make it.” He gripped her elbow and maneuvered her onto his yacht. Once they boarded, he took a minute to study her attire. That stupid ex of hers got into her head today but he caught a quick flash of color underneath all the white. He was going to enjoy this trip and couldn ’t wait for her to reveal the bright cheerful suit she was hiding under all that drab. “Take a seat and let’s head out.”

Felicia swallowed hard, turned and slowly walked across the large deck. She settled onto the long bench and spotted the pineapple grinning, she instantly relaxed.

Dylan grinned, dropped onto a lounge chair, and the yacht pulled away from the dock.

Felicia closed her eyes and leaned back. The warm sun slid over her face and calmed her ragged nerves. Life was good and she was going to enjoy every minute of this adventure.

By Melanie P. Smith

Bread

Got zucchini? Wondering what to do with that amazing crop of garden zucchini you grew this season? Why not make some bread? These easy recipes work whether you’ve got a boatload of summer veggies, just bought some fresh zucchini on sale from your favorite grocer, or need to use up that frozen stock you saved from last season. There are so many ways to use this versatile green vegetable, but I’m going to focus on bread. It’s always popular and one of the easiest recipes you can make. Plus, zucchini has a lot of natural water so it makes a tasty, moist treat that is great any time of day.

All of these are favorites in my family. All of them can be frozen and saved for later if you have a bumper crop and the family is tired of this versatile veggie. As an added bonus, the kids won’t even realize they’re eating their vegetables, one succulent slice at a time.

Zucchini Walnut Bread Chocolate Zucchini Bread

Zucchini bread is moist and delicious. It’s a great way to get the kids to eat their veggies. This recipe makes two loaves but it freezes well and will keep in the refrigerator for weeks.

This rich chocolate zucchini bread makes the perfect afternoon snack whenever you’re in need of a chocolate fix. It’s also great with coffee. It’s easy, moist and will remind you of your favorite chocolate cake.

Pineapple Zucchini Bread

This zucchini bread is moist and delicious. It’s a classic version of zucchini bread with the tropical punch of pineapple to make it a sweet, moist treat.

• When baking, I like to substitute half of the oil in any recipe with applesauce, this reduces the fat and calories in the recipe and makes your bread, cake or cookies moist and delicious. I preserve my own applesauce using sweet apples that require little to no added sugar. To learn more see my article in the November 2022 edition.

https://view.publitas.com/mpsmith-publishing/connections -emagazine-4th-

quarter-2022/page/36

Zucchini Nut Brea d

This is a great recipe to experiment with. I like to add walnuts but you could technically add anything to make this recipe your own. Go wild and experiment, the possibilities are endless.

INGREDIENTS

• 3 Cups all-purpose flour

• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder

• 1 tsp baking soda

• 1 tsp fine sea salt OR 1/2 tsp table salt

• 2 tsp ground cinnamon

• 3 large eggs, room temperature

• 1 cup extra light olive oil, canola oil or vegetable oil. (I use 1/2 cup olive oil and 1/2 cup applesauce)

• 1 1/2 Cup granulated sugar

• 1 Tbsp vanilla extract

• 3 Cups grated zucchini

• 1 Cup chopped walnuts (or other fruit or nuts) *optional

*Optional substitute — Use gluten free flour and baking powder to make your bread gluten free

INSTRUCTIONS

Prepare pans — butter two 8 x 4 inch loaf pans and line with parchment paper ( I spray with olive oil cooking spray)

Dry Ingredients In medium mixing bowl whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon.

Wet Ingredients — In a separate mixing bowl add eggs, oil (and applesauce), sugar, and vanilla. Whisk or mix until well blended

Combine — Add dry ingredient mixture to wet ingredients and stir with a whisk or wooden spoon until well combined and smooth

Grate — Grate zucchini using a box grater or large hole attachment on an electric food processor. Add zucchini to batter. Add nuts or fruit and fold until well mixed

Bake — Pour the batter into prepared pans and bake at 350 ° for 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Cool — Remove from oven. Wait 2-3 minutes then remove from pan using parchment paper as handles and set on wire rack. Cool an additional 10-15 minutes before serving.

Zucchini adds great moisture to the bread and makes this a great recipe for experimenting. Customizing for your personal taste. I add walnuts but you could add multiple items to make a unique treat that your family will love.

Optional variations

Pecans or almonds

Chocolate chips

Raisins or Craisins

Dried Cranberries

Orange zest

*TIP

If you have an abundance of zucchini, consider freezing the leftover grated zucchini in 1 Cup portions for later use

Chocolate Zucchini Brea d

While this recipe is called bread, it is anything but an ordinary loaf of bread. This decadent, chocolate flavored zucchini bread will remind you of your favorite chocolate cake. Plus, it ’s a dump-and-stir recipe, making it easy to follow and great for beginners. If you have too much zucchini in the garden, maybe it’s time for a little chocolate!

INGREDIENTS

• 2 Cups all-purpose flour

• 1 Cup granulated sugar

• 4 Tbsp Dutch cocoa (any cocoa will work)

• 1/2 tsp baking powder

• 3/4 tsp baking soda

• 1/2 tsp fine sea salt (1/4 tsp table salt)

• 1 Cup chocolate chips

• 1 Cup Walnuts

• 2/3 Cup natural oil i.e., extra light olive oil, canola oil or vegetable oil. (I use 1/3 cup olive oil and 1/3 cup applesauce)

• 2 large eggs, room temperature

• 1/4 Cup sour cream or plain Greek yogurt

• 1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

• 2 Cups zucchini, grated

INSTRUCTIONS

Preheat — Preheat oven to 350° F

Prepare pans — butter loaf pans and line with parchment paper ( I spray with olive oil cooking spray)

Dry Ingredients — In medium mixing bowl combine flour, sugar, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Whisk and set aside

Wet Ingredients — Add oil (applesauce), eggs, sour cream (or yogurt), and vanilla. Whisk or mix until well blended, batter will be sticky

Grate— Grate zucchini using a box grater

Bake — Pour the batter into prepared pan and bake at 350 ° for 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. The recipe says it will yield one loaf; however, I typically get one 8 x 4 loaf

* TIPS

• The batter is thin enough there is no need to use a mixer. Simply use a whisk and/or wooden spoon to combine ingredients until smooth

• Select smaller zucchini if possible. Medium to large zucchini’s will have large seeds. If using a large size, cut it in half and scoop out the seeds with a spoon before grating

• For a sweet crusty layer on top of the bread, sprinkle one Tbsp of raw sugar on top before baking

• Semi-sweet chocolate chips can be used in place of milk chocolate chips

Pineapple Zucchini Brea d

This is a tropical take on a classic. Recipe yields two 8 x 4 loafs. Bread will be square not rounded or raised on top like the other zucchini recipes. The pineapple makes it a little heavier but moist.

INGREDIENTS

• 3 large eggs, room temperature

• 2 Cups granulated sugar

• 1 cup extra light olive oil, canola oil or vegetable oil. (I use 1/2 cup olive oil and 1/2 cup applesauce)

• 2 Cups shredded zucchini

• 1 Cup crushed pineapple, well-drained

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• 3 Cups all-purpose flour

• 4 1/2 tsp baking powder

• 1 tsp baking soda

• 1 tsp fine sea salt or 1/2 tsp table salt

INSTRUCTIONS

Preheat — Preheat oven to 325° F

Prepare pans — butter two 8 x 4 inch loaf pans and line with parchment paper ( I spray with olive oil cooking spray)

Dry Ingredients — In medium mixing bowl combine flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt whisk and set aside

Wet Ingredients — In large mixing bowl combine sugar and eggs mix to break up yolks. Add oil (applesauce), and vanilla — stir or mix until smooth

Mix — Add well-drained pineapple and stir

Combine Pour dry ingredients into wet batter mixture and fold until well mixed.

Grate— Grate zucchini using a box grater or large hole attachment on an electric food processor add to wet ingredients and mix

Melanie

Divide — Divide batter equally between two pans

Bake — Bake at 325 ° for 60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Yields 2 loaves

Cool — Remove from oven. Wait 2-3 minutes then remove from pan using parchment paper as handle and set on wire rack. Cool an addition 10 -15 minutes before serving.

Hope you enjoy!

Find more about Author Melanie P. Smith on her website: https://melaniepsmith.com/

P. Smith An American, multi-genre author of Paranormal, Criminal Suspense, Police Procedural and Romance novels. Embark on a rollercoaster journey of discovery.

REVIEWS

Fool’s Desire: Club Risque Book 1

by Poppy Flynn

Risque for sure (and not a book for everyone)

Reviewed by Astrid

The first chapter was amazing. Then the book transitioned for a few short pages into the mediocre kind. I'm glad I continued reading, because after that, I was on a roller coaster ride. Overall this book is very well written. Maybe sometimes a bit too much inner dialogue to my liking, but the story kept me intrigued. Of course in the end, a book is not only about the writing, but also about personal taste. Yes, it's risque. Wow. I was disappointed in the main male character. Although the author tried to explain his reasoning, I found him a dumb. But love is love. And there it was. Very well done, Poppy Flynn. You are talented, for sure. The hint to your second book in the last chapter was very smartly done too.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B07G8NDN2B

Barakel’s Mask: A Gay Paranormal Angel and Demon Romance 5 by

Joel Crofoot

My New Addiction, & I cant’ Wait for More!

Reviewed by Maya Daniels

These series keep getting better and more addictive with each book that comes my way. It’s an M/M romance but at the same time so much more. The relationship between Barakel and Tanus is full of tension, chemistry and moments that will break your heart when their vulnerabilities come to light. But that’s not all that got me addicted to these stories. The author gives you an insight of the battle each fights inside them against the traumas that made them who they are today. Beautifully written, amazing character development and a story that will definitely hook you in, and won’t let go until the last page. I must say I’m holding my breath and keeping my fingers crossed that the story of Gabriel is the next one coming out. I need to read it! Like...today!!! Highly recommended!

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B07HDDLTV6

Creating Grace

by Cassandra DenHartog

Great Read!

Reviewed by Kindle Customer

I instantly adored Phenex and of course what's not to love about Gabriel? While this story has a lovely relationship what I was most drawn to was the action. Boy wow was there some great fighting scenes here. Phenex is really intense and tough as nails. I loved that the story didn't get lost in the romance because the world, creatures, history, book, etc. were all super fascinating and very creative. I hope to read more from this author soon.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B08KFNNQB6

Venus Trap (Hidden Portals Trilogy Book 1

by Maya Daniels

A Page Tuner Packed with Suspense, Twists, sex & violence!

Reviewed by London Lass

Artemis is a princess of the Fae. A skilled hunter, it rankles that her father sees her only as a weapon in his centuries-old battle with humanity, and his second wife hates her. Artemis eases her pain by leaving the fairy realm to hunt and kill vampires in the human world. She certainly doesn't expect to fall in love. Suspense, twists, sex and violence keep the pages turning until the final chapter. Although a dramatic closure to the book, it is nevertheless a clifhanger that leaves me gaspng for Book 2. As always, Maya Daniels writes with humour, grit and pace. This may be a romance, but there's nothing sickly -sweet about it. Her characters are well-drawn, their angst and desires making them engaging even when they do the most outrageous things. I'm definitely emotionally invested in them enough to crave the next instalment of their story.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B07P2RJPC5

Charles Breakfield Rox Burkey

Charles Breakfield is a technology expert in security, networking, voice, and anything digital. He enjoys writing, studying World War II history, travel, and cultural exchanges. Charles is a fan of wine tastings, winemaking, Harley riding, cooking extravaganzas, and woodworking.

Together these Texas authors create award-winning stories that resonate with males and females and young and experienced adults. They bring a fresh new view to technology possibilities today in exciting stories. Visit their website for more information and free stuff. Https://www.EnigmaSeries.com

Rox Burkey is a technology professional who excels at optimizing technology and business investments. She works with customers all over the world focusing on optimized customer experiences. Rox writes white papers and documentation, but found she has a marked preference for writing fiction.

“This is the fifth book in the Magnolia Bluff Crime Chronicles. And like Cabot Cove in the TV series Murder She Wrote, it’s a lovely little town, but a lot of people get killed there. If you’ve enjoyed the Enigma series, here’s another to like. If you haven’t read any of those, this is a great start. I highly recommend it” _ Pennant Pub

The Killer Enigma

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0C4TWZQFB

Enough is Enough - JJ rumbled when the Paparazzi invaded dinner

When JJ and Jo recognize privacy doesn’t exist for them, they head back to Magnolia Bluff to check on their friends and recapture the small-town anonymity.

They reject the status of urban legends in favor of acceptance and a quiet, peaceful life. A supermodel needs time and space to recharge herself between jobs, and he needs time to adore his wife. Does Magnolia Bluff hold the answers to their prayers, or will a dark past overtake them?

Past, present, and future collide in a perfect storm no one expected. JJ and Jo need to take action. Chief Tommy Jager states he likes them, but he can’t wait for them to get back to their day jobs.

Who will live or die to prevent the truth from being exposed? The answers may be in the graveyard with the fresh flowers.

Their friends are targets – Their dreams are broken – They must fight

Would My Wish Work Again?

By Joe DeRouen

The poet was walking through the forest one night, Lost in his thoughts, he clutched himself tight, Trailing further down the path, away from the light, He felt so empty that he cried.

A movement in the distance caught the poet's eye, A falling star, breaking through from the sky, He made a silent wish, truth from a lie, As the forest grew ablaze with light.

Blinded by the glow, he fell to his knees, Lost in the forest, amidst all the trees, In a moment the light cleared, and again he could see, In the clearing, there stood an angel.

“Oh angel,” said the poet, confused and afraid, “Did you come to me, by the wish that I made?” And then he wondered what price he had paid, To look into her eyes so bright.

“You wished for me, and I did appear. Don't be so frightened, there's nothing to fear. We can talk and I'll hold you, but don't get too near. ” The angel looked unsure of her words.

The poet arose from the ground just then, Went to her, held her, and called her a friend, They laughed and they talked, and held each other again, And then it was her time to go.

“Oh, my sweet poet, how I wish you would see, I know what you sought, and I know it's not me, I must fly to the heavens, soaring and free. ” Her hand touched his face in farewell.

He knew she was right, the situation was wrong, To ever be more than a secret sung song, Ah, but for her, his heart did it long, But he bade her farewell just the same.

The poet walked away through the forest that night, Lost in his thoughts of holding her tight, Trailing back down the path, away from the light, He felt so empty that he cried.

And he wondered, would my wish work again?

Joe is the author of the best-selling SMALL THINGS trilogy. He was born in Carthage, Illinois, and currently lives in Rogers, Arkansas with his wife Andee, their son Fletcher, and their cats Archer and Biscuit. Joe is a freelance writer, web designer, and substitute teacher. He collects all sorts of things, including Mego action figures, books, and Bicycle playing cards. When not teaching or writing, you can probably find Joe playing Pokemon Go on his phone.

Dakota Country Poems

A new direction for multiple Award -Winning author

Gary Wietgrefe

Rhyming light-hearted poems are rare today. There is no better stress reliever than a smile after reading Half-Assed Ranch, Duck Lesson, Innuendo, Rock in the Road, Need Credit, Can, Time's Right, Anticipate Fishing, Dad's Desk, or a book full of relaxing poetry. Keep Dakota Country Poems on your desk, end table, or nightstand and smile.

Gary W. Wietgrefe is an inventor with six patents, an internationally published researcher, military intelligence veteran, economist, agriculturalist, systems developer, societal explorer, cyclist, hiker, outdoorsman, poet, and an awardwinning author of eight books. He writes poetry for fun!

https://bookgoodies.com/a/0999224999

Gary Wietgrefe (pronounced wit’grif) is an inventor with six patents, internationally published researcher, military intelligence veteran, economist, agriculturalist, systems developer, societal explorer, cyclist, hiker, outdoorsman, and author. He and his wife Patricia live and travel from South Dakota. More information can be found about Gary at:

https://www.relatingtoancients.com/news

Jennifer Anne Gordon is an award-winning author and popular host of he Vox Vomitus podcast. Her novel Beautiful, Frightening and Silent won the Kindle Award for Best Horror/Suspense for 2020, Best Horror 2020 from Authors on the Air, and was a finalist for American Book Fest’s Best Book Award- Horror, 2020. It also received the Platinum 5 Star Review from Reader’s Choice as well as the Gold Seal from Book View. Her latest novel Pretty/Ugly won the Helicon Award for Best Horror for 2022, the Kindle Award for Best Novel of the Year (Reader’s Choice), as well as the Gold Medal from Literary Titan. Jennifer is a member of Mystery Writers of America, the Horror Writers Association (where she serves on a jury for the Stoker Awards) and is the Agents and Editors chair of the New England Crime Bake Committee.

For more information you can visit her website at — www.JenniferAnneGordon.com

Her upcoming collection The Japanese Box: Tales of Grief and Horror will be published in August 2023 (Last Waltz Publishing) she is also a featured essayist in Let Grief Speak by Diane Zinna (Columbia University Press 2024).

Her personal essays on grief, trauma, and horror have been published in The Horror Tree, Ladies of Horror Fiction, The Nerd Daily, and Reader’s Entertainment Magazine.

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

Hi! Thanks so much for having me. My name is Jennifer Anne Gordon, I live in a haunted house in rural New Hampshire. I split my time professionally these days between my writing life, co-hosting the podcast Vox Vomitus, and still keeping one foot or two really, in my day job as a professional ballroom dance instructor.

I am a dog mom and married to my partner on and off the dance floor, musician, artist, dancer Roman Sirotin.

Other than writing do you have any hobbies?

Photography, painting, reading, urbex, dancing, cooking, cosplay. Weird internet searches that I swear are for “research.”

Are you a multi-genre author or a single-genre author? How did you decide what types of book you would write?

The books that I have published and are actively out in the world are all in the horror genre, though they lean more towards literary or gothic. No slashers, gore, or monsters….though I love reading all of those things I have not written them—yet.

I do have a book that is out on submission currently that is NOT horror, and though I am not allowed to give details about that project, it definitely leans more towards dark book club fiction/quirky crime. I don’t think quirky crime is a genre but it should be.

I also write in the creative non-fiction/speculative memoir area with my personal essays. Those tend to be grounded in reality but work with a lot of horror imagery and the idea of ghosts/being haunted.

So yeah, multi genre for sure…

If you write in multiple genres, do you have a favorite, or is one type of book easier for you to write than others, and why?

Horror and Crime to me…those were my first loves when it came to reading, even at a very young age. I love both of those because I think there is a lot of overlap there as far as subject matter, and then when you add in sub genres it can become almost limitless. That being said, I have several books out in the horror genre and have been active in that community for longer than I have in the crime/mystery community. I am not sure if writing horror is easier, but it seems that it is easier for me right now because I have had different paths with each genre.

I could always say that the easiest to write is memoir or grief writing because it comes from such a personal and honest place that there is no need for added pressure of characters and setting or even plot. I already know what happened in my life and it’s easy (at times) to let that come out.

It’s harder emotionally perhaps.

When did you start writing? Did an event or person prompt you to take that leap?

The first thing I remember writing was a poem about a cat in third grade, it was a Catholic private school so poems had to be prayers…mine was from the point of view of the cat. It’s main themes were cheese and milk, but then had a twist ending of an apology for a ripped apart mouse in someone’s boot….

The next thing I remember writing was in sixth grade and it was a short story that I turned in for a grade (they did not give me a grade…the teacher just wrote NO on the story) it was basically Nightmare on Elm Street Fan Fiction…I don’t believe I had seen any of those movies at that point.

When I first remember really writing…. like…writing to keep me sane, was in 7th grade. I was being bullied and could not eat in the cafeteria. My English teacher, her name was Mrs. Pope allowed me to eat in her classroom as long as after I was done eating I would work on school work…I didn’t do school work, but I did write my first story, and those lunch periods changed my life.

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

I never really think about plot…I am sure my amazing agent Paula Munier will read this and shake her head…but I never go into a project with a plot. I go into a project with a character or characters and a vibe, a mood. Once I know who the characters are, I let them tell me what the story is about.

I very rarely read a book for the plot (except mystery or crime) I am usually there for the mood and the characters. Sometimes when I read the plot gets in the way of me just enjoying very strange and complicated characters.

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

I like to think of myself as a flashlight discovery writer, which means I can only see as far as my flashlight will let me. I know in my heart I am NOT a pantser, but I definitely don’t plot. I like to know my first scene, and maybe a few other moments. Sometimes I know the last moment of the book, but I don’t know how to get there (this can be exciting but also terrifying in a bad way.)

I do homework while I write and before I write, but most of it is character homework, who are they, where do they live, what is there job, what are the five memories that would flash before their eyes if they died in a car wreck mid book. Sometimes those things come to me, and I have to research them more, and I love that. But I haven’t researched for years before hand…This is a white lie, I had a two novella series (From Daylight to Madness and When the Sleeping Dead Still Talk) that was historical horror, and I did research before hand to understand certain aspects of life in 1873/1874, I hired a genealogist and historian to help me track things down…but, this was still a horror novel taking place on a fictitious haunted island ….so there was research, but I was NOT trying to replicate real life. It was a horror story told from the POV of two people with mental illness that was not treated, or if treated, done in such an arcane way. Most of my research now that is NOT directly character driven happens during the writing process.

Other news…yikes what can I say…In this business there are so many times that you just can’t talk about things. Publishing moves slow, and then fast…I have a book out on submission now, this, is a long process at times. So, I can’t talk about that project. But I am working on something new that is not horror, closer to crime…maybe….it involves ballroom dance, fancy dresses, lots of wine, and multiple murders. But I am in the early stages in that book. This fall I will be in an Anthology being published through Parlor Ghost Press called House of Haunts. The table of contents is incredible and I am both humbled and honored to be a part of this. The editor Heather Daughrity has put together and incredible project.

And…the other thing I can mention and promote is a book written and created by the incredible Diane Zinna. It is called “Letting Grief Speak: Writing Prompts for Life After Loss” and this is a beautiful book about the craft of grief writing. I am proud to have three essays featured in this book coming out from Columbia University Press in 2024.

Other news is just please tune into Vox Vomitus (YouTube, Facebook, anywhere you get your podcasts…) we are still having the time of our lives on this show. It’s been three years and thousands of viewers each week…Allison Martine (my co-hostess with the mostess) and I are shocked every week. Thank you everyone for watching, putting up with our costumes, our props, our weirdly specific snacks….and yes, the times we got drunk with guests. I’m looking at you Josh Malerman (NYT Bestselling Authpor of Bird Box and Daphne).

What do you want written on your headstone and why?

I don’t believe in headstones, but if I did I would just quote Sylvia Plath because this line from Lady Lazarus is always epic “I rise with my red hair, and I eat men like air”

As a red head it has always seemed to be great final words.

What are your current projects?

I’m not allowed to talk about it. I have a book out on sub. It’s a dark book club story. Horror. Crime. Women’s fiction. I have some essays and stories in other projects.

How much of the book is realistic?

Oh…Okay, so…It’s a collection so there are parts that are real. My story, The Japanese Box, started as a personal essay, I never thought it would become fictional ghost story…. but I soon realized it had to be that. This was always going to be a piece of creative nonfiction, there was no way for it to be anything else. So, this was a beautiful, braided essay that I worked on in a grief writing class. Making it fictional was easier, I do love to work in horror imagery and metaphor in my work…so my story became much easier to tell as fiction.

What books have influenced your life the most? here we go…

Flowers in the Attic

Haunting of Hill House

Anne Of Green Gables

The Secret History

The Dog Stars

Salem’s Lot

Ghost Story

Unbury Carol

Girl with all the gifts

I could keep going but I don’t want to right now. I love too many books.

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

No, sorry. AI is doing damage, stealing from our souls. It is the death of authors. Please don’t ask any author to do this.

Pick one of your characters and share some of their backstory that didn’t make it into the novela

I don’t hold back… my characters, all of them, are real; I don’t hold back when I write. That seems so weird, to hold back. I am trying to make something that is honest and awful, but truthful. Each character I have written is more honest than I ever was.

Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?

Just read with an open mind. Know that truthful and frightening are so close.

Is there one person past or present you would like to meet and why?

Shirley Jackson.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

It’s not a novel, but a collection, so it would be easy for me to say no, there is NO ONE MESSAGE but I have been understanding of myself, and know that if there is a message here it’s not a message, it’s a vibe, and in this collection I am dealing with identity as horror. In the Japanese Box I have a coming-of-age story about a woman haunted and stalked by her invisible twin. In my story The Lithium Moon it is a story about who you are when you are supposed to be a mom and a wife, and it’s what you want more than anything, but the full moons might be guiding you in a different way. Simulacrum is a story of a toxic college relationship…it tells the story of a relationship, when neither person feels anything. My long poem “What Stage of Grief” reflects who we are, when we deal with loss. What is my identity when I am grieving…am I a person?

So, message and identity.

I want people to discover how beautiful and terrifying not knowing an author are can be.

Can you share something personal with your readers? Do you have any holiday traditions?

I don’t do holidays, my husband and I don’t do presents, but we do travel a lot and I tend to around American holidays. So, this year, Thanksgiving 2023 we are headed to Morocco! So that covers holidays….personal…I always hated Christmas until I performed in a professional stage production of A Christmas Carol, I did this for years and I LOVED it. Fake snow. Songs. The Costumes. For a while I thought it would make me love the holiday…but it faded.

Really personal, I don’t like Christmas because the last time I saw my father up and out of bed was on a Christmas, but he had to lie down, and never got up again.

LOTS of personal there…Lets go back to Thanksgiving in Morocco.

What kind of music do you enjoy?

Honestly, white noise or dark ambient. There are bands and song writers I love as well. I want beautiful lyrics or moody sounds. I don’t want pop, and I don’t want a beat unless I am dancing or teaching dance.

What kind of movies do you prefer? Do you have a favorite author?

I feel the answer is the same. I want mood and character. I want something to be achingly beautiful…I love The Others (as a movie) …I want fog and cold water; I want people staring off into the abyss wondering if they are haunted or sick. For favorite authors…I have too many to mention, but I have the words of three authors tattooed on my body, Shirly Jackson, Anne Sexton, and Alfred Lord Tennyson. (Haunting of Hill House, You Dr Martin, and Lady of Shalott and honestly THAT is a great representation of what I love.)

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

Gross and Gross. I would want a lighthouse on a rocky shore. I want it to be cold but not moldy. I want it haunted but connected to me. Forever and forever. I want to go mad, write a masterpiece, see everyone I ever loved. (please add haunted lighthouse to your list, lol)

One final question. How can readers find you?

Find my social media at http://www.jenniferannegordon.com

She is represented by literary agent Paula Munier at Talcott Notch Literary, and Mickey Mikkelson with Creative Edge Publicity.

Handsome

Detective Gagon Series —Book 1

by Theresa Jacobs

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B088SM5K15

Being handsome has its advantages and affords him easy access into people’s homes. They quickly learn you can not judge a book by its cover when they pay the ultimate price with their lives. He didn’t ask to look the way he does, nor to lose his loving mother at such a young age. Dealing with unwanted memories, he will find a way to erase his past by cleansing the city as he sees fit.

Detective Marcy Gagon, finds at times her relationship with the lead coroner, Krista Jones, a harder case to crack than the one she’s trying to solve. She feels alone in the hunt for a man whom she believes is a serial killer. The Chief of Police refuses to entertain the possibility that Toronto has yet another serial killer until she can bring him solid proof. But when another couple are killed within 24 hours of the last, Marcy gets the push she needs, and new leads come pouring in. Fully engulfed in her job, she also learns a deeper secret to her girlfriend’s past that only strengthens their bond. Hot on the heels of a killer, Marcy must somehow bring his reign of terror to an end without letting her personal life interfere.

Chapter One: Uninvited

The door opened a hair, and an eye peeked out. “Yes?”

Anders Hansen parted his lips, knowing the effect it seemed to have on women. “Hi, I know this is unusual, but I noticed your pineapple sign. Does it mean the same thing to you as it does me?” He grinned, keeping his question terse, so if the woman wasn ’t versed in the meaning of the pineapple, she’d be none the wiser.

The single dark eye followed his finger to the welcome sign hanging on the side of the house. The door opened a foot wider. Her eyes, now both visible, widened.

He knew what she was thinking: Are you for real? He’d been fawned over as an extraordinarily handsome man his entire life.

“Yes, yes, it is. Are you? Well ” She opened the door wider, her gaze lingering over his body, from the tips of his leather Cole Haan dress shoes to his lean frame and wide shoulders. She giggled, placing two fingers over her lips. “Please, I’m sorry. Of course, you are, or you wouldn’t have asked.” Stepping back from the door, she waved him inside. She reached up and removed the clip from her ashy-blonde hair, allowing it to fall to her shoulders, which made no improvement to her looks. When she was in her twenties, she would have been only average at best, now pushing forty trying to look hot was a hopeless cause.

“I apologize for the unexpected intrusion.” He shrugged, giving a shy boyish grin. “I happened to be in the neighborhood and saw the sign.” He stepped in toward the tall woman, and moved close enough for her to pick up the heat radiating from his body, letting her smell his heady cologne.

Her breath came faster, her excitement visible. “No. One should never let a good opportunity go to waste. Do you want a drink? I ’ll get my husband Frank out here while I freshen up, okay?”

He pushed in closer, brushing the hair from her forehead, giving her the impression that all he wanted was her. He needed this to happen. He was ready and his mind vibrated with anticipation of what was to come.

“No drink, thank you.” He took her hand, pressing it to his lips. “Don’t be long.”

Her cheeks reddened, her eyelids slid to half-mast, and her breathing grew rapid. “Yes. Ah, sugar, I’ll hurry now,” she said as she pulled away, making a beeline to an unseen room. “Frank!” she called out, disappearing around the corner of the hallway.

He walked into the kitchen, picked up a nineties -style black lacquered dining chair with grey patterned soft seat, and returned to the living room with it. Moving with steady purpose, he closed the living room curtains, clicked on two table lamps, and set his briefcase on the coffee table.

A noise from behind caught his ear.

“Hey, there, friend.” A short, chubby man in his mid-forties entered, hand extended for a shake.

He reciprocated. “Hello, I hope you are game as well?”

Frank laughed. “Hell, I’m a guy, ain’t I? I’m always up for play time. It’s generally up to the women anyways, isn’t it?” Noticing the dinning chair, now in the living room, he raised a brow. “You got plans, do you?”

“I hope you don’t mind. I have a certain way I like to do things.”

Frank waved him off and stepped back to the kitchen, returning a moment later, beer in hand. “Nah, I’m easy.” He leaned in as though conspiring. “As long as Barbie’s happy, I’m happy. And getting some!”

The smell of stale cigarettes and beer assaulted the gorgeous man’s nose, he turned to resume his machinations ignoring the obscene man.

“What’s your name, pal? I can’t very well let you have your way with my wife and not know your name,” Frank said, circling to the back of the chair to see what he was up to.

“Anders Hansen.”

“Hansen, is that slang for handsome?” Barbie said entering the room. She’d changed from her jeans and t -shirt into a worn lacy red teddy that needed to see the other side of a garbage can.

Hansen continued his charade. Taking her hand, he gave her a twirl, and a low whistle. In his mind, he gagged at her long sagging rear-end and cellulite-pocked legs. “Perfection,” he cooed.

“Oooo, ropes, kinky. Do I sit here?” she said rubbing the seat.

Frank chugged his beer, flopping onto the couch. “Great viewing area, you’re a smart one, son.”

Hansen shook his head. “Frank gets the honor of the chair,” he replied, drawing the woman closer to his side. “It turns me on when the man is helpless while I take care of his wife.”

Barbie made a giggling noise of pure pleasure which came out sounding like she smoked a pack of cigarettes and needed to cough up a wad of phlegm. Hansen rested his arm around her waist.

“All right.” Frank thunked his bottle down on the table. “But nothing weird for me, man. I just like to watch.”

Hansen nodded as he brought rope from his briefcase. Moving behind Frank and securing him to the chair, he said, “I bet you’d like it if she took you in her mouth while I pleasure her from behind, right?”

A dribble of saliva escaped the corner of Frank’s lip. He slurped it up with a chuckle. “Now you’re talking my lingo, handsome baby.”

Barbie ran her hands over Hansen’s back, bottom, and thighs while he worked. It took every fibre of his being to keep from punching her in the face and not stopping until she was unrecognizable. He knew, though, what he was about to do would be much more satisfying.

Finished, he stood almost eye to eye with the unusually tall woman. He smiled, giving her all his pearly whites. He blew warm air into her ear, exposed the other shoulder, and let the teddy hit the floor.

Her eyes were closed and her chest heaved. She moved faster than he expected grabbing his shoulders to pull him in for a passionate kiss.

Hansen pulled back. “Wait.” He held her firm. “I need you too badly now. We’ll explore each other later.”

“Oh, yes, get rough! I want you inside me. Please don’t tease me. Hurry!”

“You must take care of Frank, too, darling.” He turned her towards her husband who was bound helpless and waiting in the chair. Pressing her to her knees he said, “Suck him.”

Wanting to please Hansen for her own selfish pursuits, she unzipped Frank ’s pants. He, too, was ready for fun and already aroused.

“There you are,” Hansen said, rubbing Barbie’s hair.

Frank’s head was back, eyes closed, moaning.

Hansen brought a shorter rope from his pocket, slipping it unseen under Barbie’s chin and around her neck. He said, “Now it’s my turn.”

Theresa Jacobs https://theresajcbs.wixsite.com/authorpage

An Old Man and his Death

By Sarah Hindmarsh

“Oi, I want a word with you.”

“What? Who are you? How did you get down here?”

“You know exactly who I am – and you’re the moron who was supposed to make sure I died at the right time. I’m two hundred years old!”

“Oh right, well that might be, um I mean, I suppose …”

“Spit it out man I’m not getting any younger.”

“Well, I might have made a mistake.”

“What do you mean you made a mistake?”

“With your clock.”

“What clock?”

“Everyone has a clock, when it stops ticking you die.”

“Hundreds of my clocks have stopped ticking since I was born, which one in particular was meant to stop ticking a hundred years ago so I could get out of this body? ”

“No no, this clock is in my office, it ticks down all your life. You can hear it if you concentrate hard enough.”

“I can’t hear a damn thing without my hearing aid.”

“Everyone can hear their clock, just most people don’t realise it until it stops. Then it’s too late.”

“And you messed mine up? ”

“Well your clock was meant to be eighty six years. It was my first clock, I had no idea what I was doing and you got eighty six thousand years.”

“So fix it.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, you’re Death you can fix anything.”

“I don’t know how.”

“How can you not know how?”

“Well the old Death ... erm … died, so he couldn’t teach me. There were instructions for how to make the clocks, but nothing on how to change them.”

“Haven’t you tried?”

“I might make it worse.”

“How can you make it worse than eighty six thousand years stuck in a decaying body that was built to last eighty six years? ”

“Eighty six Million years.”

“Well I did ask I suppose. Still, eighty six thousand years, eighty six million years – at this point I don’t really care. Just try”

“I don’t know how. My powers aren’t even very strong. I wasn’t a good choice for the job really.”

“So why did they give it to you then? ”

“There wasn’t anyone else available to take it, apparently.”

“What do you mean apparently?”

“Well I think they just grabbed the first person that walked past the office door.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they have to replace a Death the moment there’s an opening or the clocks all break.”

“And you were just walking past the door? ”

“Yep, and running ten minutes late for work that morning. If I’d just been on time I’d still be working in the plant evolution department. That’s where my powers are strongest you see.”

“So you couldn’t do it even if you did try?”

“No, I’m hopeless, I still make the clocks too long, I’ve got my error margin down to ten years now though.”

“So that’s why the earth is so overcrowded!”

“Well, not entirely. I’m only responsible for men who are supposed to live to over eighty five. ”

“So someone else is messing up too?”

“Not as badly as me. I’m completely hopeless, everyone says so.”

“Now now, don’t cry; it’s not your fault they didn’t train you properly.”

“If I’d worked harder on my powers when I was younger it would have helped.”

“And none of the others will help you? ”

“They all hate me. I wish I was dead.”

“Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself; we’re supposed to be feeling sorry for me.”

“Sorry.”

“So what are we going to do about my clock?”

“I don’t know. Look. I have to make another clock now, can we go into my office and try and figure this out while I make it?”

“Fine.”

“It’s just in here.”

“Hold the door man; I can’t get my wheelchair through if you let go.”

“Sorry.”

“Which clock is mine?”

“That one up there. I’ve just got to do this, please can you be quiet for a minute, I need to concentrate.”

“What if I smash the clock?”

“It remakes itself and adds on another ten years.”

“What are you doing with that one?”

“Trying to get the timing right. The number of ticks per year is different for every heart so it ’s tricky.”

“It’s really not, any idiot could do it. Just try moving that orange bit left, no not like that. Oh give it here. How have you not worked this out yet? ”

“Erm, the instructions weren’t all that clear.”

“You don’t need instructions. Look here you go - eighty seven years and 42 days exactly.”

“How on earth did you do that? ”

“Weren’t you watching? They wouldn’t be hard to change either. Give me mine and I’ll have it fixed in two minutes flat.”

“Here, try this one first. It was meant to be ninety three years and eighteen days, but I was five years out.”

“Look you just move this bit here, and count the twitches for this bit, then you get it to here and press this. See? All fixed. Can you hear how the ticks have settled down? I don ’t know how you can work at all with all the clocks ticking out of time all over the place. Why are you crying now?”

“Because I don’t GET it! I’ve been doing this for two hundred years and I can’t even get close. You’ve got it down in less than 10 minutes.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Boss! Erm, I was just …”

“Why is there a human in your office? And why the hell is he over two hundred years old? I should fire whoever made his clock.”

“Don’t be cross with him. I bribed an angel to get me down here. Well, blackmailed actually. But it doesn’t matter I know how to fix my clock so I can die.”

“You’ve been blackmailing angels and you WANT to pass into the afterlife? ”

“Oh. Well I didn’t think of that. I was desperate you see, Sir.”

“Hang on did you say you know how to fix the clocks this buffoon messed up? ”

“Yes it’s easy. I can hear which ones are wrong already. they’re hurting my ears.”

“How would you like a new job?”

“I want to DIE! Why would I want a new job?”

“Because if you die the angels will send you to hell for the blackmail. If however, you take a job as a Death you’ll get your young body back.”

“Was that a threat or a bribe?”

“Take your pick. It would be a shame to waste those Death powers you have though.”

“Death powers my backside, I just understand mechanics.”

“Look if he’s being offered my job what happens to me?”

“Oh do be quiet, you hate this job. I’ll get you something cushy in the weather department. Now what do you say, eternal hell or eternal youth? ”

“Well it looks like I don’t have a choice. I’d like that restored body now please.”

“Enjoy it. Come on then you; let’s get down to the weather room.”

“Right behind you, Boss.”

“I reckon you owe this gentleman a thank you for offering to fix your mess ups.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly offer … oh fine! Thank you.”

“Good luck, try not to cause too many thunder storms.”

“He’d better bloody not! I’ll be back to check on you in a week young man, I trust you ’ll have the faulty clocks sorted by then.”

“I’ll have them sorted by tomorrow Boss.”

“If you can do that and sort out the new clocks needed as well, then you can have the rest of the week off.”

“Don’t worry, I was going to.”

Sarah Hindmarsh is a vet student turned teacher turned writer. She has won, and been nominated for, multiple awards and prizes for her children’s fiction, short stories and poetry, and also writes revision guides and books of writing prompts. She is currently writing her first novel for grown-ups – an LGBT+ high fantasy. In her spare time Sarah likes to compete in various equestrian sports and nap on the sofa with her dog, Kohla. Sarah is also autistic and ADHD, and writes personal essays about living and working as a neurodivergent person in a neurotypical world.

Connect with Sarah Hindmarsh at: https://www.facebook.com/Sarahhindmarshauthor

From March 2020 mental health problems increased world -wide, and those affected include children and teenagers. Post -pandemic, mental health issues continue to be prevalent among children and teenagers. Although most children and teenagers who contracted Covid -19 did not experience severe symptoms, numerous mental health problems have emerged among children and teens exposed to the COVID-19 pandemic, including anxiety, stress, depression, panic, irritation, impulsivity, physical symptoms caused by mental or emotional factors, sleep problems, rapid and extreme changes in mood, post -traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and suicidal behavior.

Reading to your child, or your older child or teenager reading to him or herself, has the following mental health benefits:

Reduces stress

Reading is a wonderful form of escapism for everyone, including children. Following the White Rabbit down a hole, going on an adventure with Will Solvit or Percy Jackson or travelling across America in a pioneer wagon with Laura Ingalls Wilder, all help children escape their problems for a few hours. Reading also aids concentration which reduces stress and tension. According to studies, 30 minutes of reading relieves the same amount of tension as doing 30 minutes of yoga.

Improves emotional development

Reading exposes children to characters in books who may be going through a vast spectrum of experiences and emotional responses. Reading about how characters in books react to situations and the emotions those characters have and express help children and teens to normalise their own emotional responses to situations. Children and teens can feel isolated if they think their reactions and emotions are unique and not experienced by others. Reading helps reassure children that the feelings they have are experienced by others in similar situations.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett is a wonderful book to teach youngsters about inappropriate and spoiled behaviour and its consequences as well as demonstrating the worthiness of mature and considerate behaviour.

When orphaned Mary Lennox comes to live at her uncle’s great house on the Yorkshire Moors, she finds it full of secrets. The mansion has nearly one hundred rooms, and her uncle keeps himself locked up. And at night, she hears the sound of crying down one of the long corridors. The gardens surrounding the large property are Mary’s only escape. Then, Mary discovers a secret garden, surrounded by walls and locked with a missing key. One day, with the help of two unexpected companions, she discovers a way in. Is everything in the garden dead, or can Mary bring it back to life?

One of the most delightful and enduring classics of children’s literature, The Secret Garden has remained a firm favorite with children the world over ever since it made its first appearance. Initially published as a serial story in 1910 in The American Magazine, it was brought out in novel form in 1911.

Blurb –

Loneliness

This is particularly common in teenagers who feel isolated and lonely when they are caught up in a whirlwind of hormones that they don’t understand and can’t control. Teenagers want to be ‘part of the herd’ and the same as their friends and peer group. If they aren’t the same for various reasons including health issues, learning barriers or abilities, isolation can set in. Reading about other youngsters who are experiencing the same challenges or even unusual physical or intellectual achievements, helps promote self acceptance and reduce loneliness.

A good example of a book that involves peer pressure and the need to belong is Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.

Blurb: Margaret Simon, almost twelve, likes long hair, tuna fish, the smell of rain, and things that are pink. She’s just moved from New York City to Farbook, New Jersey, and is anxious to fit in with her new friends Nancy, Gretchen, and Janie. When they form a secret club to talk about private subjects like boys, bras, and getting their first periods, Margaret is happy to belong. But none of them can believe Margaret doesn’t have religion, and that she isn’t going to the Y or the Jewish Community Center. What they don’t know is Margaret has her own very special relationship with God. She can talk to God about everything family, friends, even Moose Freed, her secret crush.

Margaret is funny and real, and her thoughts and feelings are oh -so-relatable you’ll feel like she’s talking right to you, sharing her secrets with a friend.

Reduces depression and anxiety

Reading a good book full of joy and happiness helps lift low spirits. For example, reading about the dwarves and Bilbo enjoying clotted cream and honey on freshly baked bread at the home of Beorn, is uplifting. Reading about Harry Potter and his friends defeating Voltemort and his Deatheaters is absorbing and fills the reader with courage and enthusiasm. Many books give the reader a wonderful sense of well being and satisfaction when the adversity comprising the plot is resolved.

Developing social skills

Reading helps youngsters learn how to negotiate and deal with different social situations. It teaches them about romance and the emotions of love, and also rejection and sadness when romance ends or goes wrong. Reading about other people experiencing traumatic and difficult situations helps

develop empathy and facilitates the development of meaningful relationships with different people from different backgrounds, cultures and religions

I am David by Anne Holm is a wonderful book to teach children about gaining social skills. David has to learn to socialise with Maria and her brothers after he saves her from the fire. It is difficult for David who grew up in a concentration camp and only socialised with adults held in captivity.

Blurb – David’s entire twelve-year life has been spent in a grisly prison camp in Eastern Europe. He knows nothing of the outside world. But when he is given the chance to escape, he seizes it. With his vengeful enemies hot on his heels, David struggles to cope in this strange new world, where his only resources are a compass, a few crusts of bread, his two aching feet, and some vague advice to seek refuge in Denmark. Is that enough to survive?

David’s extraordinary odyssey is dramatically chronicled in Anne Holm’s classic about the meaning of freedom and the power of hope.

Winding down

Reading is a wonderful way for children and teens to wind down before sleeping. Today ’s children and teens are continuously busy and subject to an endless barrage of mental stimulation. This can make sleep elusive and lack of sleep is very bad for mental health. Reading before bed is the perfect way to wind down after a long day.

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

Connect with Robbie

https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com/

Mark’s first short story appeared in print in 1992, the same year he started working in the book industry.

He has published more than twenty-five books under the name Mark Leslie that include thrillers and fiction (Evasion, A Canadian Werewolf in New York, One Hand Screaming), paranormal non-fiction (Haunted Hospitals, Spooky Sudbury, Tomes of Terror) and anthologies (Campus Chills, Tesseracts Sixteen, Obsessions). Under his full name he writes books to help authors navigate publishing. And they include The 7 P’s of Publishing Success and An Author’s Guide to Working with Libraries and Bookstores.

His industry experience includes President of the Canadian Booksellers Association, Board Member of BookNet Canada, Director of Author Relations and Self-Publishing for Rakuten Kobo, Director of Business Development for Draft2Digital and Professional Advisor for Sheridan College’s Creative Writing and Publishing Honours Program.

Let’s start with the basics. How did you get started in writing stories about werewolves?

To be honest, though I’ve been writing in the horror and speculative fiction fields for decades, I’ve never been a fan of trying to write stories using the standard tropes and monsters from horror.

The main reason I wrote a werewolf story in the first place was in response to a call for short stories for an anthology entitled The Beast Within. It had been about the time of my first visit to New York City. The editor for that anthology had been looking for stories that focused on the person, rather than the monster they turned into. It made me think about the possible side-effects of being a man who turned into some typical horror movie monster. Someone like the comic book version of The Incredible Hulk who had no control over the monster, and would wake up with no memory of what had gone down while they were the monster.

So, while walking through Battery Park on the south-western tip of Manhattan, I imagined what it might be like for a man who, living with a lycanthropic curse, woke up there, completely naked, and had to yet again figure out what had happened the night before and how to make it home without being arrested for indecent exposure.

The resulting tale “This Time Around” was a 10,000-word short story about a man in this position who, despite his desire to get

Interview by Top Shelf Magazine and Melanie P. Smith

home and to an important work meeting, ends up repeatedly using his enhanced strength, hearing, and sense of smell to help others as he makes his way across the city. It never sold to the original anthology. But I liked it enough to want to try to cut it down some and sell to another market. When my friend, horror author Sean Costello read it, instead of cutting it down, he asked me what happened next.

“Nothing,” I told him. “That’s it. That’s the end of the story.” After a few trials and challenges along the way he made it home. And, like every other day during his monthly wolf-moon cycle, he can never truly understand what he did the night before. That’s part of the frustration of being who he is.

But Sean kept prodding me to explore the rest of his day, saying there was a novel there if I just explored how the rest of his day went. And thinking about that helped me to re-adapt “This Time Around” into an 80,000-word novel called A Canadian Werewolf in New York.

Ironically, this stand-alone single-day-in -the-life novel about a man living in Manhattan with a werewolf curse stayed as a single novel for several years. It wasn’t until a call for a different anthology called Monster Road Trip prompted me to imagine what it might be like for this same character to be stuck on a train speeding across the country-side knowing it wouldn’t arrive at the final

destination until 20 minutes after sunset during the cycle of a full moon. That more than 20,000-word tale turned into Stowe Away, the novella-length 2nd book in what was now the Canadian Werewolf series.

Where did the original idea for Fright Nights: Big City come from?

While the end of Fright Nights, Big City had been with me all along, I didn’t even realize it would include an entire novel. Fright Nights, Big City was not supposed to exist.

“Mark Leslie delivers another trainload of fun …”

“ A really good fantasy fiction in a short length format”

What happened was the story I was building in Fear and Longing in Los Angeles was larger and longer than I had originally intended. So, I had to reimagine a much longer story arc between those two novels. The challenge was that each book needed to work as a stand-alone story, but also work as part of an ongoing series with continuation.

Fear and Longing in Los Angeles ends with Michael Andrews, the werewolf in question, finally finding what he believes is a “happy ending.” He is returning from an extended trip to Hollywood where he found his true love, and a way to suppress the lycanthropy that has plagued him. For anyone reading that novel as a stand-alone, it’s a self-contained story with a happy ending of a man finding a new life.

Fright Nights, Big City continues from the point of his return to the Big Apple where Michael learns that the horrors he thought they left behind in LA have followed them home. And that putting aside that aforementioned sense of responsibility and trying to repress the beast within him just makes things worse.

There’s a direct parallel, within the bad guys in these two novels, the PFA, or Proud Fighters for America, a neo-Nazi group attempting to build a new race of supernatural soldiers and chase out non-pure people from the US. There’s a belief that the Nazi’s were beaten in World War II and they ceased to exist. But they didn’t. They continue to fester, globally and infect the world with their hatred, fear, and lies. I leveraged a lot of research into the paranormal and occult activities conducted by Hitler’s Third Reich when developing this fictional hate group.

In case it’s not already clear, if you sympathize with Nazi’s, racists, misogynists, homophobes, or domestic terrorists, you’re going to hate this book.

He's an alpha wolf and a beta boyfriend. She's dated every monster in New York City.

It's time for their Meat-Cute.

Michael Andrews, a Canadian living in New York, is learning to live with the side effects of lycanthropy. Other than waking up naked and bloody in Central Park once a month, he's managing just fine. If only he could finish the book he's supposed to be writing. If only he could find someone he trusted enough to tell the truth to.

Gail Sommers may not have her love life in order, but at least she's smart about things that really matter. She runs the coolest occult shop in the city, and is a pre-eminent scholar of the occult. She's made a vow of celibacy so that she can spend this year focusing on her work and her self-care. She's even been hired to help out a very famous and very sexy horror author.

As a new era in the Canadian Werewolf saga begins, Lover's Moon flashes back to the romantic and comedic story of how Michael and Gail met and fell in love back in the summer of 2011. Told through both Michael and Gail's unique perspectives, it also explores Gail's past, introduces new characters, and reveals some of the deeper secrets of both of their lives.

A special Canadian Werewolf tale co-authored by Mark Leslie and contemporary romance author Julie Strauss.

Will readers find the superhero’s creed that ‘with great power comes great responsibility' in your Fright Nights:Big City novel?

That’s a great question. The creed, which is most popularly known from the Spider-Man comics and movies, is one my main character Michael Andrews lives by. While he may not often actually repeat the creed in each of the Canadian Werewolf novels, he does refer to this line in Fright Nights, Big City. And regardless, in every book in the series it’s always very clear how much of a fan of the wall-crawler he is.

In this particular novel, which outlines Michael’s misled belief that he can just live a normal life, take advantage of an important new “talisman” in his life that removes his enhanced werewolf powers and prevents him from turning into a wolf. But his long-time best friend, and former lover, Gail, reminds him of Michael’s constant need to help people. It’s part of who he is. So denying these special powers that he can use to better help people goes against his nature. The novel also contains an underlying message about the dangers that can come when a person tries to repress who they really are.

What is your favorite genre to read?

Oh, that’s a really tough one, because I genre hop all the time. I love reading different genres, I love exploring authors and subjects, and areas I haven’t read before.

But if you forced me to land on a single term, I’d like have to use the word Speculative Fiction. I like fiction that explores concepts of “what if” and in unique ways. So it’s a genre that I will always return to.

What is the lure of superhero and paranormal fiction?

People usually like to believe that there’s always some higher purpose to them and their life. Superhero stories allow them to see a character making a difference, helping others, saving the day, working for some higher, purer cause. They may imagine themselves in the shoes of the hero and wonder if they would be able to do the same things. Or they may see the hero as someone or something external to them, there to make the world a better place.

Superhero stories are often stories of hope, and of triumph over bizarre or otherwise unexplainable circumstances. They take the unknown, the strange, and the unexpected, and turn them into stories that are often good beating evil.

When it comes to paranormal. I believe that’s also a fundamental uniqueness of humans. For me, I’ve always enjoyed stories that spark a “sense of wonder” or explore a unique and intriguing “what if.” That has led me to want to write speculative tales, and, often, tales that involve paranormal elements. Because from humanity’s earliest days, when we huddled around fires inside our caves, we always wondered, with a combination of curiosity and fear, what lurked outside those dancing shadows, in the deep dark vastness of the night.

For aspiring writers in your genre, what advice would you give them?

I would advise young writers who are truly passionate about building a life-long career as an author to never give up on that dream. And remind them that patience, practice, and persistence are three of the hallmarks of success for any writer. Regardless of which path a writer chooses, traditional publishing or self/indie publishing, it can take years of a lot of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, to realize their dreams, or reach their goals and achieve whatever level of success they intend.

And that being said, try your best to not judge your beginning with someone else’s middle or end. You’ll likely have no idea of how long they might have spent getting to where they did. So attempting to be anywhere other than ahead of where YOU were the previous day can be a fruitless and debilitating endeavor. Keep looking forward. Keep persisting. Keep focusing on that passion that drew you to writing in the first place.

How would you describe your writing style in three words?

Stream of consciousness.

Is there a book that people might be surprised to learn you love?

Ohh, that’s a good one. I suppose the fact that there are some pretty tropey romance novels that I just loved, maybe folks might find it interesting to learn that I’m a gigantic fan of Hamlet. Yes, I know it’s a play, but it’s one I’ve read multiple times, and always love watching performances of. I’m also a bit fan of Henry David Thoreau’s writing, in particular the essay Walking.

Your fiction work is primary in the horror and thriller genre. What attracts you to these subjects?

I’m not sure if “attracted” is the operative term so much as “has no choice but to be compelled by.” I’ve always been compelled by the unknown, and my curiosity of what might be hiding in the darkness just out of site. As a 51-year-old man, I’m still a little bit nervous about the monster under my bed, and worry about that hand reaching out to grab my ankles there, or between the joists of the basement stairs.

It has always been that way. It might always be that way for me. And thus, when I sit down to compose a story, those shadows tend to creep in. It’s just natural.

For the longest time, my Mom, who does not like reading anything I write, but loved reading, especially romance novels asked, “Mark, why can’t you write a nice story?”

All that being said, one of the redeeming qualities about writing about horror and thrillers and dark things is that, when the word itself is dark, I can create monsters and bogeymen where good triumphs over evil. Because at least there, I’m in control. Things can still make sense. Good and righteousness can prevail. Unlike reality. And, if the tension is too tight, at least the reader can close the pages of the book and feel safe again.

Are there any books you’ve read over and over again?

I think I have read the novel Earth Abides by George R. Stewart more than any other novel. And in terms of non-fiction, the book On Writing by Stephen King is likely the one I’ve read the most.

Interesting aside. Earth Abides is about a virus that wipes out the majority of humans, and my partner Liz and I decided to read the novel together at the very beginning of the pandemic in the late winter/early spring of 2020. In fact, the book appears in the first two music parody videos (pandemic themed) that we released in the spring of 2020. It was a cheeky nod to the situation. But also a nod to one of my favorite novels of all time. Which, by the way, with the exception of some sentimentalities from the 50s related to sexism and racism, holds up quite well.

Besides fiction, you also write about nonfiction paranormal explorations. Can you talk to us a little bit about that?

When I started writing, it was to explore the unknown and the “what if’s” – the majority of my fiction might be classified as “Twilight Zone” in nature because I always liked to explore the dark corners, the unexplainable things. So, later on, when I saw the opportunity to turn some of the research I was doing into non-fiction explorations of the

same thing, this time with a bit more “serious” approach (meaning, instead of making up the ghosts and the things that went bump in the night, I listened to first-hand accounts, read books and articles about them, and reported what I’d learned.

Any fun findings?

Plenty of fascinating things. But I think the most intriguing thing I discovered in that process was learning just how much I could love history. I hated that class in high school. But it wasn’t until going on my very first ghost-walk tour that I realized that history could be alive and dynamic and compelling. So it was my thirst for ghost stories that led to a much richer desire to learn and understand history. That was something fun to discover about myself.

The Wise One

K.T. Anglehart’s Award-Winning debut is changing the way historical fiction is scribed!

Mckenna's never thought much of her nightmares, but on her seventeenth birthday, a vivid dream of burning at the stake awakens her dormant abilities, thrusting her into a world where faeries are real, spirits hold a grudge, and a High Priestess obsessed with a 16thcentury prophecy is tracking her every move. Now, her overprotective dads, Seán and Andre, are forced to tell her the truth they know who her birth mother is, and her life is not the surrogate story she's always been told. Abigail, Mckenna's mom, is some sort of mystic, and Mckenna a Wise One. Whatever the hell that means.

With the help of a persistent little wren and company of a newfound friend, Mckenna journeys to Ireland in search of her mother and real answers. Along the way, she learns to harness her innate magic and trust her intuition, as best she can anyway Cillian, a kind and passionate delegate who crosses her path, is proving much harder to read.

Only her mother could truly help her halt her ill fate and prepare her for what's to come . . . before she gives in to the darkness she knows is buried deep within.

Author K.T. Anglehart expertly weaves a story set in Ireland that is both timeless and unique, a perfect cross-market read for those searching for the next endearing urban fantasy classic.

https://bookgoodies.com/a/B08GQP7XN5

K.T. Anglehart’s

Worlds collide for both teen and adult readers, who will love the fast-paced thrills and interplay of witchy fantasy, Celtic folklore, and reality in The Wise One book one of The Scottish Scrolls series.

Katrina Tortorici Anglehart is an award-winning author from Montreal, with a multilingual prowess in English, French, Italian, and “Spanglish”. A dedicated academic, she holds a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism, a graduate certificate in Scriptwriting, and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. Inspired by the wizarding world, the land of Narnia, and parallel planes, she penned The Wise One, inviting readers to connect with nature and its everpresent magic. Her exploration of the landscapes and folklore of Ireland and Scotland greatly influenced her debut YA urban fantasy, marking the inception of The Scottish Scrolls series. K.T. Anglehart is a passionate advocate for bunnies, thanks to her late Netherland Dwarf, Magic the inspiration behind her imprint, The Magic Dwarf Press. When she’s not writing or diving into magical reads, she revels in hiking, antiquing, and Netflix binges alongside her high schoolsweetheart-turned-husband, Andy. They currently live in Toronto with their three pets: Nessie, a mysterious rescue dog from Puerto Rico, and their whimsical bunnies, Onyx and Stirling

Mrs. Bellin’s Sugar Lumps

By Sarah Hindmarsh

Something about the window wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on what, but I was sure something had changed since the previous morning. I walk past that window every day on my way to school and it’s always the same. And today, it just wasn’t quite. The same, I mean.

The pot plant was still there, wilting leaves still looking like they needed watering. The rusted picture frame was still there, and the oil smear on the window from someone’s greasy hand was still … wait! The oil smear was gone! That was what was different. Everything had been cleaned. I looked a little closer. The picture frame was no longer rusted, but shining golden, and even the wilted leaves on the pot plant had picked up a little. Mrs Bellin never cleaned. Something was very wrong. I ran down the path and knocked on the door.

“Mrs Bellin!” I shouted.

The door opened. A thin, sharp-chinned nurse stood in the doorway. “Yes,” she said haughtily. “Where’s Mrs Bellin?” I said.

“Mrs Bellin is resting.” The nurse made to close the door. I shoved my foot into the hallway. “Is she okay?”

The nurse frowned. “She is fine. Her daughter has employed me to make sure she gets the proper rest that she needs to recover.”

“Recover from what?”

“From the various ailments associated with her old age.” The nurse pushed the door against my foot.

“Well, she’ll always be old,” I said and pushed the door open again, shoving past the nurse and into the hallway. “Is she in her sitting room?”

“Please don’t go in there,” the nurse said, at the same time as Mrs Bellin said, “Miley, how lovely to see you.”

My name isn’t Miley. It’s Emma. Mrs Bellin seems to think I’m the reincarnation of her longdead little sister. I don’t mind too much.

“Hi Mrs Bellin. Are you ok? Your new nurse wasn’t going to let me in.”

“Oh, she’s a proper fusspot, that one,” Mrs Bellin said quietly, then more loudly. “Perhaps you could fetch me and Miley some tea, Miss Tun.”

The nurse sniffed disapprovingly at me and left the room.

“Doesn’t like children, that one,” Mrs Bellin confided. She peered through the door. “Has she gone?” she whispered.

I looked into the hall. There was no sign of the nurse and an unnecessary seeming amount of clanking coming from the kitchen.

“She’s in the kitchen.” I said.

Mrs Bellin clutched my arm. “Get me out of here,” she hissed. “That woman is a nightmare. I can’t have sugar in my tea, not even real sugar lumps, or cream on my scones. There was talk of not being allowed scones at all. Miley, you have to help me.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Get my wheelchair from the hallway and push me out of the back door. We’ll make a break for it.”

I laughed. Then I stopped laughing. Mrs Bellin was serious. I poked my head into the corridor. Too late! Miss Tun was walking towards me with a tray of tea. I shook my head at Mrs Bellin and sat down in a chair, pretending to read a magazine.

“Tea,” said the nurse stiffly.

“No biscuits?” said Mrs Bellin.

“Biscuits are not recommended for someone in your condition. Mrs Bellin. I have said this before.”

“Well, maybe not for me, but young Miley here? Surely she can have biscuits? ”

Miss Tun sniffed. “There may be half a packet of digestives in one of the cupboards.” she said.

“Well then, if you please,” Mrs Bellin said.

I stood up and watched the nurse walk back down the corridor and slam the kitchen door behind her. I grabbed the wheelchair from its spot at the bottom of the stairs and raced back into the sitting room. Mrs Bellin was already trying to stand up. It seemed to take ages. Pushing on the arms of the sofa, grunting, shuffling to the edge of the seat, more shoving.

“Hurry up,” I hissed, “She’ll be back any minute.”

“Don’t rush me, dear,” Mrs Bellin said, through gritted teeth.

I heard the kitchen door open. “She’s coming!”

“I need some of my foot cream too, please, Miss Tun,” Mrs Bellin hollered in my ear.

The kitchen door closed again. At last, Mrs Bellin was on her feet. Two tottering steps to the wheelchair and she sat down. I ran to open the French doors leading into the garden. They were locked.

“Where’s the key?”

“In the door, where it always is.”

“It’s not there.”

“We’ll have to use the front door; that’s the only way out.”

“What if she sees us?”

“She’ll be ages looking for that foot cream. It’s in my handbag.”

I swung the wheelchair round and half walked, half ran towards the door.

“Mind my knees,” Mrs Bellin muttered as we fled down the hallway, zig-zagging wildly. I wrenched the front door open and the wheelchair slid down the ramp with a creak.

Leaving the door standing open behind me I ran down the garden path and out onto the pavement beyond. I didn’t stop running until we were two streets away and my legs felt like they were beginning to buckle. I put the brake on the wheelchair and stood to one side of it, my hands on my knees, panting loudly.

Mrs Bellin patted me on the shoulder. “Well done, Miley dear,” she said.

I straightened up slowly.

“We better get moving before that nurse comes after us,” I said. “Where do you want to go, Mrs Bellin?”

“That lovely cake shop on the high street, I think, dear. The one that serves real sugar lumps, and proper clotted cream with their scones.”

Sarah Hindmarsh is a vet student turned teacher turned writer. She has won, and been nominated for, multiple awards and prizes for her children’s fiction, short stories and poetry, and also writes revision guides and books of writing prompts. She is currently writing her first novel for grown-ups – an LGBT+ high fantasy. In her spare time Sarah likes to compete in various equestrian sports and nap on the sofa with her dog, Kohla. Sarah is also autistic and ADHD, and writes personal essays about living and working as a neurodivergent person in a neurotypical world.

Kalee Boisvert has been in the financial industry for over 15 years, but her love of money started very young. Growing up in a single parent household, she watched her mom struggle with finances and wished there was something she could do to help. Around this time, she realized she needed to find her own way to save and earn if she wasn’t going to allow her circumstances to define her. And so, her own journey to financial literacy began.

Today, as a single mom and financially independent woman, Kalee is called to support women in their financial lives. She felt the pull toward a career that would allow her to pursue this deeply personal goal to advocate for women and their money, which led her on the path to becoming a financial advisor. Being an advisor allows her to work directly with women to empower and support them and help put an end to any moneyrelated stress and doubts.

To further her efforts supporting financial literacy, Kalee has two books being released in 2023 – a children’s picture book called MoneyWise Mabel’s Bursting Bank, and a nonfiction book called Make Money Your Thing! Which aims to build confidence and empower people in their financial lives.

A guide to finances for Kids –Say It Isn’t SO!?!

Financial Expert Kalee Boisvert shares all with a new fun guide for Kids to learn and begin their money management skills

What should Mabel do now that her piggybank is full to the brim? Buy lots of candy? Spend it all on that toy she’s been eyeing? Finally get that unicorn sprinkler that sprays water from its horn?

When Mabel pulls her piggy bank out from under the bed, it ’s stuffed. She can’t fit one more coin inside–Piggy is bursting!

What should Mabel do with all that money? Buy candy?

Toys? Games!? Mabel’s so excited that her bed becomes a trampoline and she wants to spend it all. But then her mother explains that money doesn’t have to burn a hole in your pocket a lesson that sends Mabel on a journey to learn what it means to become “moneywise.” Follow her as she takes her first steps to independence by opening a bank account!

Kalee Boisvert

Paw Prints On The Couch!

How Pets Enrich Our Lives

Paw Prints on the Couch highlights the importance of our furry companions and the impact they have on our lives. The joy and yes, the heartache we experience when we have to say goodbye. Nonetheless, we celebrate the moments shared with our pets and the memories that will always be with us. What would our world be without our furry friends?

Kim is a multi-published author, writer, podcast host of Let Fear Bounce, and TV show host of The Write Stuff, The Authors Voice with the Believe In Your Dreams TV Network.

In addition, she is an active speaker sharing her story of being a female veteran living with PTSD and spreading a message of Hope. She regularly speaks for local veteran and women's organizations in her hometown area and across numerous global organizations.

She has been writing and speaking with empathy and emotion since 2004 showcasing her faith, nature, love of rescue animals, and advocacy for veterans living with PTSD. She showcases her writing through her books, business, and website; www.kimlenglingauthor.com.

She is the lead author and coordinator of the collaborative 3-book anthology series titled When Grace Found Me. In addition, she is a published co-author in seven anthologies and numerous print and online global newspapers and magazines.

Kim sees each day as an opportunity to spread hope and encouragement.

"The world can be a dark place. I choose to toss nuggets of hope out into the world like confetti; little sparks of light in the darkness."

The stories acknowledge the joy that comes with opening your heart and home to a furry companion and is a testament to the eternal bond between humans and our animal companions.

With tales of loyalty, bravery, and above all, unconditional love, this book is a reminder of the powerful impact pets have on our lives. So grab a blanket, curl up with your own furry friend, and let the charming stories within "Paw Prints on the Couch" touch your heart and soul

Kim Lengling

“Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.”

– Anna Quindlen

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

How to Write a Book Description: Tips from BookBub Editors

You’ve done it you’ve written the book, you’ve commissioned a beautiful cover, and you’re ready to start finding readers and selling copies. But wait! There’s that pesky little detail in the process of publishing your book: providing a book description. Figuring out how to frame your story and catch the eye of a future reader

https://insights.bookbub.com/how-to-write-book-description-tips-bookbub-editors

11 Authors on YouTube with Writing & Publishing Tips

If you’re on the lookout for free resources on writing and publishing, YouTube has a treasure trove of helpful advice from successful, experienced authors. Many of them have generously shared craft tips, insights on the publishing process, and advice on book marketing.

https://insights.bookbub.com/authors-youtube-writing-publishing-tips/

How to Create a Dynamic Monthly Calendar in Google Sheets

In this video, learn how to create a dynamic monthly calendar which updates depending on the month/year entered as the title

https://youtu.be/hV6NvY8wG9A

Why Your Book Isn’t Selling

For authors struggling to see sales after putting in all the hard work; authors looking to troubleshoot and discover where their book might be failing; and authors who want to take a proactive approach

https://kindlepreneur.com/why-your-book-isnt-selling