April-June 2015 The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine

The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine®™ A helpful literary publication where we take care to bring you short stories, poems, haikus, and essays for your reading pleasure! Plus helpful and informative articles of all kinds, and a section that’ll show you where you can purchase authors’ books or subscribe to literary magazines and journals! ™ 1 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015 FOUNDER & PUBLISHER: AUTHOR ROSANNE CATALANO (RC KAYLA)

5/18/15

© APRIL-JUNE 2015 ISSUE 76, VOL 15

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NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER: So glad you joined me for the spring and summer issue.

I’m sure we are all looking forward to the warmer weather after the awful winter we just had! Pictures of me and my fur baby Sasha walking to the tree-lined, green grassed park near hubby and I fill my mind right about now…

Even our Sasha and our Cordy are getting cabin-fever and cannot wait to go into the sunshine again! Below is a NEW picture of our Sasha; she was in the middle of playing with her toys when I snapped away.

(Photo of our Sasha taken in the winter of 2015)

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Before you begin reading the rest of this magazine, I must apologize for the spring issue coming to you so darn late! Unfortunately it couldn’t be helped… At the end of March my new Hewlett-Packard computer’s hard drive died for the 2nd time. We just bought the HP in March of 2013!

While hubby and I were waiting and waiting for the repairman, we decided to get another brand-new computer— only this time a Dell, which I had had for about 10 years prior to getting the HP—so we went to P.C. Richard & Sons here in Queens, bought a $1,000+ Dell desktop computer with a 27” 4 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

monitor; a much bigger one than the HP had! I am now back in business while I also get caught up with emails, submissions and social media I missed…

Only good thing that came of it—besides getting another brand-new Dell computer—is that I was able to read all the books that were on my TBR list. As soon as I got back online, I wrote my reviews on Amazon for the authors (a great way to ‘support’ all independent authors!)

Now, in this issue there are lots of delightfully inspiring fiction and nonfiction short stories, extremely informative and helpful articles, plus pleasingly gratifying and deeply emotional poetry by my contributors, and lots of new book authors and literary journals in the ‘Off The Press! Corner’:

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Coffee House 4 Readers Corner: 1) Lynn Dowless: “King of Cats” And “Oh Madeline” 2) Joseph J. Mazzella: “One Thing You Never Run Out Of”

And “The Real Gift” 3) Sam DunKley: “Open-Air Concert” 4) KJ Hannah Greenberg: “Days of Milk and Honey”

Helpful Nonfiction Articles for You: 4) Sam Vaknin: “Dancing as an Evolutionary Strategy”

Coffee House 4 the Poetry Lover: 5) Deborah Anne Shepard: “My Love, So True Surrender,”

“My Eternal Love” and “Spirit Comanche Lights” 6) L Douglas St Ours: “Barefoot Boy and the Buffalo Girl”

Off The Press! Corner: 7) Poet & Writer Darren B. Rankins (Poet Rankins) 8) Author & Poet Melissa Lorraine Gulick (MJ Rain) 9) Author & Poet Thomas Bryant 10) Author & Poet Nanette M. Buchanan 11) Author & Artist Rose Anna Schoene 12) Author & Poet Sandra L. Hoynacki 13) Author Rosalee Wilson 14) Author, Publisher & Columnist Carol Roach 15) Author, Poet & Talk Show Host Trisha Martin 16) Author & Publisher Rosanne Catalano (RC Kayla).

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*** Call(s) for Submissions *** Submit your BEST work to the publisher of Storytime Tapestry via email at: winterose@videotron.ca Storytime Tapestry was launched on Sept 1, 2003 by Author, Columnist & Writer CAROL ROACH. It is a daily newsletter which is delivered directly into your e-mail. It features short stories and poems about the human condition. These stories will inspire, teach you a new skill, challenge your senses, provide a positive attitude on life, make you laugh, make you cry, and first and foremost provide a cultural link with all the peoples of the world creating a tapestry of love for all of humanity.

To Join Storytime Tapestry: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Storytime_Tapestry/ ================================================== Finally! I am giving the floor over to my contributors, who have more news to share with you before you start reading the short stories, articles, poetry, authors’ books and literary publications. Not to worry – it’s only good news.

***** BOOKS, NEWSLETTERS AND MAGAZINES BY

THE CAT’S MEOW FOR WRITERS & READERS’ AUTHORS: Jacqueline Marcell 7 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Impressive Press 3141 Michelson Dr. #606, Irvine, CA 92612, (949) 975-1012 “My book ‘Elder Rage’ is a Book-of-the-Month Club selection receiving 50 endorsements: http://www.ElderRage.com/Review.asp 300+ Five-Star Amazon reviews, and is now required reading at numerous universities. It is also available for audio download exclusively at Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/74479pq and Audible Books: http://tinyurl.com/7seo4fm.

Also available in Print and Kindle/Nook eBook formats.

Perhaps you know people who could be helped by my book.” http://www.ElderRage.com Jacqueline’s “Coping with Caregiving” Radio Show http://www.wsradio.com/copingwithcaregiving

***** “Splash of Inspiration Newsletter” Published by JANET PEREZ ECKLES 8 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Author & Inspirational Speaker

JANET’S DAILY NEWSLETTER BRINGS YOU FAITH & LOVE WITH A LATIN FLAIR! To subscribe to her publication just send a blank email to: jeckles@cfl.rr.com Write “Subscribe” in your subject line and mention that the publisher of The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers

Magazine referred you. Janet will immediately send you her latest

issue

right

in

your

inbox.

Enjoy

her

inspiring

newsletter!

****** CAROL ROACH AUTHOR, PUBLISHER AND COLUMNIST: “My Examiner.com articles are well researched and, as you know, my field is psychology – I have a Masters in counselling psychology. The articles are also great for Storytime Tapestry members who do not want to wait for when the story is finally published, sometimes several months later.”

First column Women's Issues - covers all issues relating to women's lives, from the fight for women's rights which started over 100 years ago in Alberta, Canada, to all the great women's achievements in the USA, the feminist movement, women's legal, health, family 9 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

issues and more, later on I will incorporate eastern women's issues

as

well.

http://www.examiner.com/x-47386-Montreal-

Womens-Issues-Examiner

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

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

******

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ARTHUR C. FORD, SR PUBLISHER, EDITOR AND POET:

APRIL 2015 ISSUE OF ‘THE PEN’ WILL BE OUT SOON! If you are a reader, writer or just interested in poetry, this poetry newsletter—‘The Pen’ is a must for you and your family. Send $25(USD) (4 issues), $48 (8 issues) or $4.00 for a sample. OUTSIDE THE U.S.A. AND CANADA: $35 FOR 4 ISSUES, $68 FOR 8 ISSUES OR $8 FOR A SAMPLE. Poetry Submission information can be found at: www.thepoetbandcompany.yolasite.com (click on guidelines) Send Check or Money Order. To: Arthur C. Ford Sr., P.O. Box 4725, Pittsburgh, PA 15206-0725(U.S.A.) USE “PayPal” (Credit Card) at: givemequality@yahoo.com ADVERTISING RATES: Size Issue

One Four issues

1/8

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¼ ½

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Full Page $80.00

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Ads must be typed clearly and in black and white.

Logos are accepted.

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“ADS ARE DUE ON THE LAST DAYOF THE MONTH (Dec/Mar/June/Sept) PRIOR TO THE FOLLOWING MONTH’S PUBLICATION (Jan/April/July/Oct) Yours in Words,

Arthur C. Ford, Sr. Poet and Editor of “THE PEN”

******

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JOSEPH J. MAZZELLA AUTHOR AND WRITER: “After a lot of encouragement by wonderful people like you I have finally self-published a collection of my favorite story articles as a book. The book is titled ‘Walking the Path of Love.’

It is available at Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/WalkingPath-Joseph-Mazzella/dp/1609573773 This book was written for you. I wish I was wealthy enough to send all of you a free copy but, sadly, I can’t. I was able to get it discounted, however, at a decent price. I also have good news for all of you technology lovers out there! My book, ‘Walking the Path of Love,’ is also available in e-book format…

You can get it for Kindle on Amazon at: https://www.amazon.com/Walking-The-Path-Loveebook/dp/B00AMLPJ8A/ref=sr_1_1?s=digitaltext&ie=UTF8&qid=13553343&sr=1=1&keywords=walking+the+path+of+love You can also get it for Nook on Barnes & Noble at: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/walking-the-path-of-lovejoseph-j-mazzella/1023319336?ean=2940015759143 ==================================================

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

Copyright © May-July 2015 Rosanne Catalano.

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

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COFFEE HOUSE 4 READERS CORNER

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

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King of Cats ŠLynn Dowless IN THE MONTH OF APRIL, WHEN THE LEAVES BEGIN TO spring from their wooden sepulchers, and the rains fall from the loft of high heaven above, so geared the mighty warrior, Sebastian Oswald for mortal combat. It had been four long days since the heavy white glove of his adversary had struck him across his face, which was frozen in shock. It had been four long days now since he had sworn the sacred oath; that he would die for his honors' sake.

There was not a man alive who should strike the mighty Oswald and walk away without a fight. So he told the man to meet him by the fork at Katsle Creek, and it was agreed that they should publicize a decree in the town of Catlerbury so that the multitudes should have the opportunity to witness the great battle for honors' sake. Not only should it be posted upon the eve of every public building, as it was agreed upon, but at high noon the voice of the town crier should carry the glorious news to every lusting ear.

For four long days every lip had whispered the great news and that news had been spread into three adjacent towns, and by the eve of the second day had been carried throughout simultaneously by their criers as well, and on farther still. For four long days now Sebastian had neither shown his face in public nor seen but a shimmering glimpse of the light of day.

On the very day of the challenge he had entered deep into the forests' heart to seek the wisdom of the prophet, Ziegle, who dwelt in the belly of the great mount, Froid. By 16 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

all mortal men he had been utterly despised, so that no mortal man knew of his wisdom but a small chosen few. The great prophet even called them “one in two” for they had endured the same jeering remarks in regard to their bodily contortions, but the masses had underestimated the wealth of power stored within the faith of their minds, and in that of their fathers as well.

When he had entered into the sacred cave, the old man hugged him, saying repeatedly: “My dear brother, behold I have heard! Is it true that you have vowed to die in your honor's sake, oh one of such a young mind and rash a heart?”

“It is true, oh chosen one, 'tis true, and I shall die if I need, but I have an unwavering faith in my skill with the sword and knife, and likewise in the power of prayer.”

The old man reached upward with a tawny, shriveled, trembling hand, placing it upon the hot cheek of the great warrior.

“So your decree shall be, young one. So your words have been sworn to oath.”

The old man slowly bowed before the great warrior.

“I am truly honored that you have chosen me to be your mentor.”

The old man then stood, saying: 17 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

“Come now, we shall plead to the Almighty for his assistance.”

Down a well-trodden footpath the two traveled, and upon the outer edge of the forest which sloped upward into the jagged edge of a cliff, stood an ancient castle cut from the very stones below by unknown hands. It was here that the clouds above hung perpetually low, so low that they touched the very summit of the cliff, causing moisture to continually bead upon the smooth stone walls of the old fort. Such climate allowed huge swells of undergrowth to consume the castle to such an extent that it was concealed from view at a distance, either on land or by sea. Even so, any mortal who entered into the area over which the somber clouds hung was consumed by mounting, inexplicable fear, and it mattered not whether it was by land or by sea. So endlessly dark was the place that through the ages men had forbidden unto all mortal to enter out of respect for the spirits who dwelt therein.

It was here that the two chosen ones had entered and they walked into the weapon chamber, where a great store of weapons lay for use by any wise enough to seek their knowledge.

The old man placed his trembling right hand upon the shoulder of the youth.

“It was here, so I have been told by the Almighty, that the great Terralizel came to pray before slaying the black dragon that the evil magician, Ozzymoddor, released from 18 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

the earth's belly, to slay the sons of men. Behold, the seraphim have shown me proof that the Almighty's words were true, my son, for in the chamber where ye shall reside until that fateful day, lay the bones of the dragon's head and the sword upon the wall that he used to slay the evil beast.

Now which weapon shall ye use to manifest your endeavors, my son?”

The mighty warrior neither spoke nor signaled by bodily motion as to which weapon he sought to use, but the old man stood patient and silent until the hours had passed and the warrior's pledge of allegiance had been spoken.

“I pledge my allegiance to the sword of the great Terralizel, my lord.”

The old man neither spoke nor moved, but gazed upon the wall of weapons as though consumed in a hexing trance.

“Very well then, my brother, but you must know that the great Terralizel was also a great judge in the knowledge of good and evil, and upon his very death his spirit chose to dwell amid the iron of his weapon, so that it might charm and bedazzle the sons of men for all eternity.”

“I believe the words that you have spoken are true, my lord, but since he was a great warrior and so am I, then why should not truly great warriors adhere to the same bond of power?”

The old man hugged the young man, then gazed upward into his eyes saying:

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“You have chosen your words well my son. Such words betray a wisdom of which the great Terralizel would have been proud. Allow me to retrieve the weapon of choice!”

So the old man disappeared, and in an hour he returned with the sacred weapon of choice, and when the candles had been lit the orange light danced a gay sparkling dance upon the shrouded blade, and the dance made the young man's heart race in a rhythmical fashion that caused him to neither fear pain nor even death himself.

“My son, the Almighty has given this weapon to you, and I have cast the rune stones following my prayer over the weapon, and the runes have spelled K-I-N-G-O-F-C-A-T. I shall cast them again to see if the Almighty holds true to his word.”

The old man suddenly cast the stones high into the air, and when they had fallen they held true to their word. The young man neither gasped nor betrayed any emotion, for he knew that he had been predestined by Almighty God at the very foundation of the earth's formation.

So the old man seized him upon his left arm, leading him deep into the belly of the ancient castle, until they came to a room at the base of a narrow cylindrical tower which appeared seven fathoms high, ending at a window positioned from the direction that the sound of sea came in. The walls of the room were two fathoms high, and upon the floor near the side facing the sea sat the skull of the black dragon. So great was the dragon's skull that the young man stepped inside where he lay the sword across the dragon's jaw, praying to the Almighty for strength and wisdom to make the prophesy manifest into unswerving reality.

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So for four long days now he had fasted and prayed continuously, and suddenly he had noticed that the perpetual darkness of the tower had transformed into the shining light of day. He fell upon the stones in thanks to the Almighty for filling the place with his glory. For three more days he continued to fast and pray, and upon the dawn of the seventh he ceased his prayer and arose. For it was upon this day that the interior of the tower shown brighter than the light of day, and the great warrior was filled with joy that the Almighty had heard his prayer.

So he arose, walking back into the chamber of weapons where a huge banquet feast had been prepared for him in his honor. When he was fully nourished he arose from his seat, standing solid as granite while the old man retrieved his armor, piece by glorious piece, saying a prayer over each one as he placed it upon him from the head down. When he had been fully donned, the old man led him into the foyer of the ancient castle where a white stallion had been saddled for him. He was filled with the joy of Almighty God as he took his place upon the stallions back.

And away he rode through the forest toward the fork of Katsle Creek, and when he arrived a huge murmuring multitude had gathered in glorious tribunal honor to his adversary. It was upon this mount that the entire nation had gathered to bear witness to the great battle for honor's sake. He paused a single league from his armored adversary, and when he paused the entire multitude rang out in great waves of laughter, pointing to him as they cried:

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“Death to the peasant rogue who dares to fight with weapons that greatly show the weight of the ages, and he is so slow in wit that he neither has the ambition to wash the grit nor pick the burrs from his broken pony's back!”

His statue remained solid as a mountain of granite, and he spoke not nor faltered in spirit.

His adversary cast back his head, wailing with laughter, pointing to him yelling: “Halt ye now, thou stupid rogue, before I render thy useless body to the dust of the earth, and thy soul into the belly of hell!”

The wailing cry of the multitudes rose so loud that every ear upon the face of the entire earth beheld its jeer, and many among the masses mocked him in the manner in which he managed to move himself forward, screaming: “Death to the duck man! Death to the duck man! Death to the duck man!”

Still he stood even more solid, until he became more solid than the high granite mountains. Some warriors even said that he became so solid that the very stars above revolved around him instead of the earth itself.

“Speak now in thy defense, ye fool, if indeed ye possess the wit to do so,” screamed his pointing adversary!

He remained silent, both he and his stallion remained motionless, poised for eternal combat or death.

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“Let them, hail the victor,” screamed his adversary, holding high a crimson cloth!

“All hail the King! All hail the king! Hail the King,” chanted the multitudes!

And the sound of their chant rose higher than any hail that ever poured forth from the lips of men. The beasts of the field fled the scene, for the power in the voice of the multitudes pushed them into the ends of all the earth.

So they fell before his adversary, caressing his armor with their lips, and great hosts of women pledged their bodies unto him when the blanket of the night saw him victorious. Every one, both great and small, cast their life's wealth of jewels upon his adversary as they chanted their hail to his almighty greatness.

Still Sebastian remained steadfast in his poise, and neither grew wane in his faith nor did he falter in spirit, but continued to solidify in the grace of God Almighty.

The overseers then came forth, donned in hooded sable robes, each with crossbows in hand, and each taking his stance behind each of the dueling men. Then the master chairman came forth, raising his hands high.

“I hereby declare that the commencement has now honorably begun, with great multitudes and representatives from every nation upon the face of the entire earth to bear witness! Do we have any comment from the multitudes?”

Four men then stepped forward, each with a trembling robed 23 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

girl by his side.

“We wish to pledge our virgin daughters and our entire life savings to the honor of the king,” they publicly stated.

And they cast great hordes of jewels at the feet of the king, and they removed the waist bands of their daughter's robes so that the robes fell in such a way to expose the nude bodies of the girls for the king's present taking, if he so desired.

And as the king indulged in his gifts of precious gems and blushing flesh, the chanting cheers of the multitude rose higher and higher, until the crowd declared him to be greater than any god in heaven or on earth. The multitude receded from the king, and after he had repositioned himself upon his midnight stallion, the Master Chairman again raised his hands high.

“Do we have any further comments from the multitude?”

And the multitude screamed: “Death to the duck man! Death to the duck man! Death to the duck man!”

Upon him they cast forth rotten eggs and the half rotten bodies of rats and mice, and the dung of both man and beast, until the great stench below caused huge buzzards to circle high above. Again the Mater Chairman raised high his hands.

“Do we have any comment from the king?”

“I neither prayed nor fasted, for such is a wasted effort 24 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

on such a vanity as the duck man, so insufficiently poised yonder,” spoke the king! “I challenge him to even dream of pitting a flea's effort against such a great lion as I! Re crown the victor king of all Catlerbury!”

“All hail the victorious king! All hail the victorious king!

All hail the victorious king,” chanted the multitude!

Again the Master Chairman raised high his hands.

The multitude then grew silent as the dead.

“Do we have any comment from the adversary?”

His countenance remained solid as granite as his mouth spoke the sacred words.

“I wish to dedicate my effort to the honor of my greatest supporters and my worst enemy, for both shall lead me into infinite glory!”

And the crowd booed, casting forth great quantities of vile substances upon his person, screaming: “Death to the duck man! Death to the duck man!”

Again the Master Chairman raised high his hands, saying: “Officially let the commencement now begin! The first of whom shall be thrown from his mount, then his adversary shall meet him on equal terms.”

Great drum rolls raised high the ebb of anticipation..... “.....and the fight shall be....'till death!”

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Sebastian drew the sacred sword of Terralizel, raising it high until a single beam of sunlight pierced the dark hanging clouds above, glinting, blinding the sons of men who gathered about to witness the duel.

In accordance to the decree, the king drew his sword, rushing forward to the hailing cheers of the multitude, toward the now charging Sebastian. The swords clashed, the multitudes screamed amid the ringing crash of the sacred steel. “Kill the duck man! Kill the duck man! Kill the duck man!�

Quickly as a racing buck Sebastian reared his charging stallion again, rushing the king from behind, then punching him with an iron plated fist from his midnight stallion's back, causing him to fall upon the damp earth below. There the king lay still upon his side, and when the mighty Sebastian approached him, he struck forth with his sword, casting the sword of Terralizel from the hands of Sebastian.

But from high heaven above protruded that single glint of glorious light, streaming forth from the polished metal of his face plate, and into the eyes of the king. The great Sebastian now lay hands upon the hilt of his sword, driving the now staggering king backward into the midst of the multitude. The pair halted, then the king swung to the right side. Sebastian suddenly blocked and forced him to move to the left side, then he suddenly struck like a flash of lightening to the right side, slashing the armor of the king and severing the king's head from its resting place upon the 26 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

neck.

Sebastian then reached down, seizing the severed head by the flowing golden hair, casting it high into the great multitude who now rushed backward in consuming terror.

Many among the multitude took their own lives upon that very spot. The very earth beneath their feet commenced to tremble, breaking open and spewing huge shafts of fire from its belly.

The great and mighty Sebastian Oswald strode proudly forward, now donned in the king's royal array, now taking his rightful seat upon the throne of Catlerbury, with the queen of his bosom and her honor fully restored, now seating herself by his side. “What message have ye, oh Majesty, for the new kingdom at thy command,� spoke his bowing personal servitor.

He gazed blankly upon the fleeing multitude below through his portastal window from whence he now sat, his eyes neither blinking nor his mouth tremoring. In the shimmering distance he envisioned deep rivers of flowing blood. His ears beheld the voice of Almighty God commanding him to purge the land of all evil inhabitants, populating the land instead with righteous men. His nose beheld the sweet stench of burning flesh as high leaping flames consumed the corpses of hundreds and thousands of thousands.

As the smoke settled amid the loft of high heaven above, both he and Almighty God eased backward in their throne, 27 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

relaxed now that his great achievement had climaxed in the name of all that is holy.

“Let the will of the Almighty be done,” spoke he unto his servitor. “All evil shall pass on this day, and the land shall flow with righteousness hence forth for evermore. Carry this word even into the very ends of the earth.

Copyright © January 2015 Lynn Dowless.

***** Oh Madeline ©Lynn Dowless THE RHYTHMIC MELODY OF THE SEDUCTIVE SIRENS’ whispering chant rode upon the midday wind. Inviting, enticing, hexing, seizing hold of mortal mind, invading the very heart, and capturing the very soul. It was a low whisper, it was at first, then it increased in its gradual volume, until the very curiosity aroused, and one's resistance to it dulled just as gradual.

This rhythm continued in perpetuity; enticing, hexing mesmerizing, and there was no escape into the secular world about. Indeed, no matter where the physical body raced to find solitude, there was none. Be it down the street, into the cellar, into the secluded closet, behind closed doors of one's fortress walls; behold, even into deep and dark woods, there was no escape! The chanting rhythmic song sang on the very wind breathed into the heaving lungs, enticing, motivating, and employing the brain, the legs, the arms....until there was no resistance. Yea, the desire to fight 28 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

was literally vacuumed from the pit of the very soul!

The legs were then forced, compelled beyond imagination, to move into a forced direction with the same compulsion that a magnet bears when near the opposing end of another. Even in-spite of the very imagination desiring the body at a specific destination, the legs ambled forward as though going by their own free will, in absence of the mind. The hands may grasp and railings, the arms may wrap the light stands, but the allure grows with more intensity....and the eyes inform the mind of this new direction...in absence of the permission of the mind. Soon the song grows in volume and intensity until every sound that the ears behold is of an eerie haunting beckoning.

The eyes behold the sidewalk path that leads toward an ancient two story brick home that spoke of wealth and glory somewhat faded. The feet then transport the body forward to the direction in the song of the siren. Slowly they enter into the threshold, now into the foyer, and the eyes behold the large extravagant upward winding staircase. The hands feel and grasp the railing as the feet slowly...ever so slowly... slink their way upward to the rhythm of the haunting chant...that spellbinding, rhythmic chant that pulls even at the very heart and soul. Slowly....ever so gently...they walk...one foot in front of the other...until they take that last step onto the ancient heartwood floor of the hallway....

Now the force of the song, the force of the melody, was so intense, so heavy, that any resistance was out of mind, no thoughts of such anywhere near. The eyes beheld the door ajar in the sacred distance, and the ears could hear the 29 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

melodious song, that chanting melodious rhythm that so forcefully pulled the limbs forward. The very heart raced with an intensity as though it desired to leap from its very seat inside the breast. The mind forcefully attempted to overpower the attraction of the song, the hands seized hold of the railing pulling the body backwards, now backwards toward the staircase, but the force of the song always prevailed.... yes it always prevailed....until the body found itself standing before the door.....yes, that very door!

The heart raced with great intensity, to the point that the chest heaved, causing the mind to feel as though it would cease and the body grow limp.

The sweating trembling hands gingerly nudged the door, and the door silently....thankfully silently....eased open, allowing the eyes to behold the specter of the nymph as she whispered her enchanting song that rode forth on the heavenly wind. She sat about in a long sable satin dress upon the large lace covered feather bed mattress gazing into a bronze hand held mirror, gently caressing the solid gold crucifix that she bore on a chain of emerald and gold about her pale neck. As she spoke into the mirror, she moved her hands about the crucifix in a caressing, loving stroke of compulsion....as though she were speaking unto an unseen presence.

The eyes then beheld a vapor, a somber mist that rose forth from the crucifix into the mirror, then moved forth from the mirror into the room surrounding. The mist, this haunting terrifying mist....then assumed the shape of an apparition whose form the eyes soon beheld, and the mind 30 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

comprehended. The form....the human form...that developed to the rhythm of the chanting, hexing song of the nymph....soon bore a chilling face - a face of intrepid evil, of wisdom but for the purpose of forever incarcerating those poor weeping souls of the damned.

The heart raced harder, and faster, the hands dripped with ice cold sweat, then mind and the legs desired a magnificent swift escape.....but now a strange curiosity compelled the body to simply stay put, for the eyes wished to observe in order that the mind might give divine interpretation.....

The apparition then slowly turned its dark head until its face met the concealed eyes at the door. Its face was of a horrid description, so dreadful that the eyes could not bear to see and flowing tears welled up to hide the face that stood before them. The baneful face had a mouth, a mouth that cracked into a smile, a smile that betrayed the fact that it had forced the body of the mortal to propel the soul forward into its clutches. There was no escape, nowhere to hide, and now the body stood before that evil one, that nefarious mist of perdition, of Beelzebub and those legions of the damned.

The mouth parted, for those forces of evil had compelled the heart to love, to fall into the forces of adoration beyond all mortal knowledge and comprehension. “Madeline,� whispered the voice from the breast, yea that fearful trembling voice. But her ears heard not and her mind made no response to acknowledgment of the existence of the body that stood by the door. The mouth parted once again.

31 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

“Madeline,” but still no response, just the chanting rhythm into the black stone mirror, a stone that was encased in solid brass. Her melodious chanting song still enticing the soul into her somber entwine as the mind beheld the vision of a greatly anticipated embrace.

“Madeline,” whispered the voice from the lips and the heaving breast, even though the demon of enchantment still stood before the body only to smile its smile of successful capture, its eternal grasp of mortal soul.

Still no response, no hint of knowledge that the nymph was aware of the body that stood concealed behind the door. That jaded nymph, that hazed damned jaded nymph, but the mind was innocent.....innocent of the judgment and the desire thrust upon it born from the might of the demon....and the lust of the flesh.

The lust of the flesh now blinded those mortal eyes and the wisdom to discern that lay within the depths of the mind. The might of scorned desire now swelled within the breast....the increased racing of the heart, the sweating of the hands, and the tainted sweat of the arms that stained and corrupted the silk shirt of the body.....

“Madeline,” whispered the parting lips on the wind, but now with more compulsion, more desire. She rose from the bedside, her body turning toward the one that stood behind the door, her eyes now meeting those eyes, her pale face and blood red lips smiled....a smile of compelling desire. Her breath blew her enchanted whisper into the stirring wind.

32 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

“Christopher.�

Her mind knew not nor cared not about the demon who once stood before her, nor did it recall her beckoning the forces of darkness. Her pallid hands rose toward her neck as her feet seemed to glide toward the gently opening door.

Softly, ever so softly, her glittering satin dress gently glided from her breasts, now gliding upon her hips, and finally onto the floor at her gentle feet. Her nude body eased its way into the embrace of the mortal who now stood in the opened doorway.

The door now closed by itself behind him, this mortal, and his lips hungrily embraced those lipstick covered lips of that wanton angel of the damned. His heart now knew no resistance, the lure of her poison was that of the belladonna rose, the euphoria, the phantasm and thrill of the moment....in spite of the demon's presence. The eyes of the mortal gazed about, but the demon had vaporized and the mind sought to push the facts of what it so clearly beheld into the closet of deep repression. This nymph, this jaded, scorned angel of the damned, singing her mesmerizing song, compelling his feet and his heart forward into her tainted embrace.

She spoke of love, behold, she spoke of commitment; she spoke only of her soul commitment to him, her forsaking of the past and all others with it! In the mind of the mortal he knew that simply by being in that very place he was sealing his own fate, the fate of his future, the fate even of his parent's contentment and joy, that elderly joy of completion 33 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

and fulfillment;......but he could not resist the euphoria...the pleasures....the thrill that he at times so craved and never quite satisfied. Not so much the thrill of disobeying the rules of the preordained, but the thrill of experience, the thrill of just living the mortal's life in a secular world, and simply making the best out of it.

Her house was a nest of jaded angelic bliss, of nymphs uninhibited, of those of whom were damned but lived the sacred bliss of ignorance. That dreaded phantom, that angel of death, had seized up her father on the very day of her birth....or at least the one whom she was told had conspired to give her birth.

Her mother knew no limitations, had made no commitments, and contented herself in the trance of herbs and fruitless pondering. She sold the herb of the ancients, and the pleasures of the flesh for a healthy farthing of gold, or necklace of precious pearl, or ring of gem or diamond decorate'. She bore no limitations, and so those of whom had delighted in her company were compelled to repeat the enchantment, the tingle of the crying delight.

The crash of the clear sapphire beach, the cool rise of the heavenly smoky hollows, the taste of the virgin agave, was all theirs simply by the asking; the sands of the warm island shores.....all for the simple asking and with no hesitations.

Yes. The demon was a skillful trapper!

All the while she whispered of love and eternal adoration, that jaded nymph from tarnished mansion glory. All around were mesmerized, hypnotized by the power of her spell. The 34 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

glitter of her gold silenced any who knew the truth, and intimidated any of whom attempted to inquire.

By the riverside we walked for hours, speaking of time well spent, of future plans. My mind attempted to chastise my heart and my poor soul, but my heart would never listen to the urgent warning.... though the demon appeared right beside us, giving us his dark blessing. Though my eyes beheld it, but only to compel my mind to push it inside the dark closet once again. When my eyes glanced up from our nebulous embrace, the apparition had vanished once again.

His task was well done, our fate well secured in his clutch.

In the holy temple she spoke of saintly acts, giving chastisement unto those of whom had so blatantly violated the sacred regulations of the preordained. Her lips spoke only of acts in the name of kindness, in the sacred name of holiness, betraying no defilement in the company of secular men. Those among the holy delighted in her presence‌as she hugged the children...as she spoke kind words unto the diseased elderly and those of whom humanity ignored and despised.

Behold she did give homage unto the holy cross, curtseying, bowing in humble sacrilege, kissing, caressing that most sacred of books while singing hymns of praise unto the glorious one on high. In daylight among the mortals she did praise with ardor and solemn vigor, clutching that most holy of holy books with her right hand....and with the drop of the sun, that dreaded demon of the damned in her left who gave her his own instruction for her part in his diabolical stratagem.

35 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Our walks facing the rising sun gave limitless delight as we strolled about near sand and sea, speaking of glory found in the past, and of our pleasure in ambition toward the future. We both had our plans, and our plans were to merge as one, each benefactor unto the other. Giving encouragement when there was none to be found; giving new life to perishing aims when it seemed that there was no longer hope.

As we lay face to face on those distant sands of our hearts delight each gazing deeply into the others soul, the spirit of discovered fortune seizing the lacy boundaries of her soul... and that dreaded demon of misfortune and despair seizing mine. Oh how sly he was indeed, so sly that I was to never know until the last....that very last when all was lost to eternity.

Oh, that angelic nymph, Madeline, thou enchanting fairy of my soul, thou grasping child of perceived innocence, thou trickster unto the masses untold. Though my mind is embroiled in a colossal struggle with my body, still I try with all my might...I cannot resist, I cannot win, my fortune is doomed to lay among those lost. Behold, there is only this fleeting moment! I hold it, and only it, in my perpetual cringing grasp. Let all the earth here me! She is mine, oh Madeline, and I have her here.....right now....!

On that blustery wind came the gifts from venerates untold. There was fine wine, splendid bourbon, silk, lace and satin. My senses tingle from the spell of frankincense, myrrh, tincture of opiates, brass, and watches of gold. Unto 36 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Madeline, thou saint of the moonlight still, only to be betrayed by the light of the day....But of thee I love all still....in-spite of thy jade.......in-spite of the demon by your bedside....that demon who seeks to plunder my life and my soul, binding me into the raging fires for all future posterity!

Behold, thou Madeline, my mind knows thy secret plot, but my enchanted heart embraces thou still...never to let go, not even by a pleading mother's beckoning call.

It was on the dreary twenty third of December, I so distinctly remember, that we made our way unto that decorant rose covered temple. It was immaculate, the blooms of holy spring time filled the majestic air with their life giving sweet scents. The spell was cast, the die now tossed, and my body, my dear heart and soul, knew no retreat; only my mind was left to yell. But my feet traveled anyway, my hand grasped her plush hand, graciously taking it unto my bosom as we walked down that blessed aisle.

Soon we stood before the masses, facing the majestic elder who gave us his honored blessing as we stood before the eternal spirit receiving his permission, hoping that he will only touch us as we speak the venerated vow. She wore the white of cherished purity.......she wore the coveted veil of chastity.....she gazed forth into my eyes promising to honor her words for all eternity. She stood before the masses speaking her forlorn words of honor and total commitment, and they standing as her eternal witnesses.

So I placed that ring upon her finger.....that eternal endless bind, only to symbolize our commitment and the pledge of our hallowed cherished oath.....She was mine, 37 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

eternally mine, and we sealed our pact with that fatal kiss, that kiss of immortal commitment, both in body and in soul.

We rode away into bliss, into sanctified euphoria, into the arms of each other, across the deep blue sea into hidden lands afar. We chose a castle on a lone hillside by the sea as our abode, intending to live in endless harmony.

The days turned into nights, and the new days into weeks and months, and soon our joys were multiplied by the happy cry of our new son. He was all of my joy and my pride rolled up tightly into a single unit, my true love, my eternal life and hers alike. Yea, our joys were like no other to be told, there just is no true picture that any mortal words can describe....

Oh Madeline... it has now been seven long years, and where is your heart today? In the disgusting arms of the demon, is it he of whom has always held you in his sway?

Oh my Madeline, what about our time together, our travels and our good times? What about those bad times that life is so wrought with, when we stood by each other to give strength and counsel when they came our way? What about our son, our glorious son, who bears a head of flowing gold and the wisdom of the saints?

Hark ye, now....my mind knows thy secret lusts.....I saw thy treasured gifts....the gold watch, the satin clothes, and the host of Teddy bears! Though my heart refuses my eyes, my mind can still behold the truth...Oh Madeline! Must you sell yourself to the wealthy.....no? No you did not, your betrayal was in the very worst of ways! I know the filthy beggar...I beheld his repulsive sable arms in your embrace!

38 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

You never knew I was there, did you? Oh Madeline, you not only betrayed my faith, but what about the faith of our son?

Did you not ever consider him?

My hands opened the sacred book and my eyes beheld the honored instruction, my mind then knew just what it had to do. My feet walked up, my face now smiling its smooth emotionless smile. My hands then seized her by her sallow throat.... from some unknown avenue sprang that cherished blade....that ever so thin a cherished blade...! Mine eyes never beheld the act, but my bare legs felt the steamy heat of her oozing blood as it ran down my right thigh, only to puddle upon the ice cold stone floor.

Oh my Madeline, what has thou now done? You have forced me to act in honored vengeance, to restore the sacred virtue of family and name, and that of our son as well. These walls have witnessed the act, behold, and the spirits bear the secret to tell. Oh Madeline, the choice that you left me was to forgo it, and the truth you'll never tell.

I be-drudgingly pulled her corpse into the wood, into that most secret of brush enshrouded clearings. I then proceeded to slice the flesh from the bone, then the bone from the ligaments. I completed the dreadful act in some thirty minutes, or maybe even less. Just as soon as the deed was completed the pigs came a running, hungrily ravishing all of the bloody flesh and the bone, soon not even the earth itself bore no trace.

But the months passed... and I hold not Madeline, no not in honor nor disgrace. Oh Madeline, what hast thou now 39 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

done, to go from here forever in eternal dishonor and disgrace? How could you cause such pain to our son, did you not even consider how this might affect him? I now damn you into eternal flame and degradation, be consumed by your sins forever more......!

They then came for me, my ears beheld their heavy knocks, my heart raced when they rammed in my solid oaken door. They have found me, I know not how. Did the pigs tell? Did some slight speck of blood on the forest floor?

Did the spirits who witnessed the crime? Mine eyes beheld the blue of their dress, my wrists felt the clasping bite of their cuffs.... and they snatched me away into the somber mist, casting my quivering body upon the cold stone floor of my dungeon tomb.

So I stand tall here on a towering scaffold of new oak, awaiting my turn at the fall. As they placed my head into that scratching, itching loop of hemp, mine eyes beheld the demon who had engineered this diabolical scheme, and my ears beheld his heavy roaring laugh just before I fell.

Oh Madeline.....just what hast thou now done...; only to damn the flesh into the dust of the earth, and the eternal soul from heaven's radiant sun.

Copyright © January 2015 Lynn Dowless.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Lynn Dowless has been a published writer for over thirty (30) years. Other works by him include: “The Grand Army of the Golden Eagle,” “The Killer Thriller Story Collection,” and 40 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

“Mother Maria's Wonderful Bedtime Stories.” Lynn’s website ‘will’ be found here: http://134746100439593160.weebly.com/ On his site you will find many more books. He can be contacted at hldallas@outlook.com ================================================== =========================

41 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

One Thing You Never Run Out Of ©Joseph J. Mazzella Author of “Walking the Path of Love” NOTE FROM AUTHOR: As I write this story for you it is a cold day here with a foot of snow on the way. It is funny then that my new story for you is about a warm memory on a hot summer day. I hope that you enjoy.—Joseph J. Mazzella, February 16, 2015.

IT WAS A SWELTERING HOT, SUMMER DAY AND I WAS longing to go swimming at the local pool. Instead, I was riding in the back seat of the car as my parents drove to a friend’s house. They were going to lend a hand to a church work camp repairing her roof and porch. As an eight year old boy I knew that there wouldn’t be much for me to do and I was right. In the end I fetched a few hammers, threw away some scrap pieces of wood, and spent the rest of the time sitting and watching.

The work camp was mostly made up of teenagers who had given up part of their summer vacation to help others.

They were supervised by the Pastor and a few skilled carpenters who were also working free of charge. I spent most of that afternoon sitting in the shade while they sweated in the sunshine. They were cutting boards and hammering them in place. They were pulling out rotted tiles and nailing in new ones. They were scraping off the old paint and brushing on the new. They were doing it all too with an energy of joy. They shared stories and smiles. They 42 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

shared jokes and laughter. They shared a Heavenly spirit of caring that was beautiful to behold.

Finally our friend called me into the house to help her pay them with the two things she could afford: sweet tea and smiles. I gingerly carried out the glasses to the workers who downed them with gusto. By the end of the day the three gallons of tea were gone. The workers were out of nails, paint, and lumber but the job was done. There was one thing left, however. It was the one thing that you never run out of.

It was the one thing that you can’t give away without having even more of it. It was Love. It lightened our spirits. It lifted our smiles. It made us feel at one with both Heaven and God. I went home with a heart full of it and was happier than any day at the pool could have made me.

Don’t be afraid to share your love every chance you can.

Share it with your work. Share it with your smile. Share it with your life. You will never run out. You will always have more. And you will forever feel our Heavenly Father smiling upon you.

Copyright © February 16, 2015 Joseph J. Mazzella. ============================================

43 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

The Real Gift ©Joseph J. Mazzella Author of “Walking the Path of Love” I WAS WATCHING SOME REUNION VIDEOS THE OTHER day. Those are the ones where the serviceman or servicewoman returns home after many months to surprise their families. One in particular widened my smile and moistened my eyes at the same time.

In it a five year old little girl was celebrating her birthday party. After blowing out the candles on her birthday cake it was time to open her presents. She seemed especially delighted when she opened up a box holding a new doll. Just then, however, her Dad walked out from behind a wall and tapped her on her shoulder. She looked up at him, screamed, dropped her doll, and jumped into his arms. Then she began to cry tears of pure joy while telling her Daddy how she loved him and how she had missed him. During all of this the doll lay forgotten on the floor. That wise little girl knew what her real gift was.

In this life we all need to realize that the real gift we give isn’t just reserved for birthdays.

The real gift we give every single day. The real gift we give is ourselves. The money we spend and the things we buy mean little in comparison. The real gift is in the love we share. The real gift is in the hugs we share. The real gift is in the smiles we spread. The real gift is in the time we spend. The real gift is in the very life we live.

Leo Buscaglia once said: "This life is God’s gift to you.

How you live it is your gift to God." May you make your real 44 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

gift the best gift imaginable. May you increase your wisdom, nurture your love, build up your kindness, and grow your joy.

May you make yourself the best person you can possibly be.

And may you give that glorious gift of yourself to others, and to God. If you do so you will have happiness. If you do so you will spread goodness. If you do so you will bring a whole lot of Heaven down here to Earth.

Copyright © February 2015 Joseph J. Mazzella.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Joseph J. Mazzella is an author and writer who was born, raised and still lives in the mountains of West Virginia in the USA. He

graduated

from

Glenville

State

College

with

degrees in English and Education. A divorced father of three, he has been writing for over 20 years for local county newspapers. In August of 2010 Joseph had his first book published, titled “Walking the Path of Love,” which can be purchased wherever

at

Amazon.com,

books

are

sold.

Barnes He

can

&

Noble.com,

or

be

contacted

at:

joemazzella@frontier.com ================================================== =========================

45 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Open-Air Concert ©Sam DunKley THIS IS TORTURE. THERE’S A ROOM IN HELL JUST LIKE this, I know that for a fact.

The Goose to my left squawks again, missing the note by miles, and this time I can't help but wince. The Boar on my right snorts, forelimbs folded, unamused; I manage not to say anything, but my teeth press a little harder against each other. The Ferret in front lost interest ages ago, and is busily sorting his glimmering pebbles.

Why did he even come here? Even if he's disappointed with the performance, that's no call to be rude.

Oh Lord love a Duck, because my own charity is severely strained with the one behind me; the feathery idiot just can't seem to stop quietly quacking, not even so loud I can feel less than cruel for shushing him.

The Angels only perform so many times while I'm alive. I should be enjoying it. I AM enjoying it, but it's driving me to distraction how much more I could be if I were surrounded by other Humans, instead of these...these animals. The guilt of those thoughts, those horrid thoughts, is pushing my memories of the performance itself out before they're fully settled. I have inhospitable emotions.

The Goose squawks again, this time almost in key. At 46 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

least one other is enjoying it, enjoying the Music of the Spheres. The white-feathered one seems to get it, to love it, to want to be a part of it; it's only sin is impatience. Learn to sing, Goose, and perhaps Raphael will let you sit in with the band.

Don't scoff. I saw it happen last time, with the Parrot. It was glorious, and I feel blessed to have heard it.

Perhaps, this is just a fluke. I should stop focusing on the audience, enjoy it the best I can; even God's Messengers can get a bad crowd.

Ah, the Creation Aria. This should drown out that accursed quacking.

It didn't. But there was an oddly pleasing rhythm to it, and the Goose's counterpoint wasn't bad.

Copyright Š February 2015 Sam DunKley.

47 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sam DunKley is a current student at MassBay Community College. He plans to be an actor, but writing was his first love. Sam can be contacted at samdunkley@gmail.com PS) Sam’s last name is one word. ‘Dun’ is a Scottish clan prefix. ================================================== =====================

48 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Days of Milk and Honey ©KJ Hannah Greenberg THESE DAYS MY OFFSPRING ARE ABLE TO LAUGH WHEN they rubric their behaviors as “fine” or as “needs improvement.” They are self-aware of their hygiene, their school work, and, sometimes, even of their need to complete household chores. Yet, I traveled many developmental kilometers with them before they became self-conscious in this manner.

I remember, with somewhat painful clarity, their toddler moments. Children passing through that stage of growth necessarily have to test boundaries in order to understand that they are distinct individuals. Mine pulled down books (at least not bookcases; my husband and I literally nailed those furnishings to our walls), upset houseplants and pets, and opened closets, cabinets, doors, and drawers, despite our use of sophisticated locking mechanisms.

Yet, simultaneously, those babes want a literal bit of Mommy, i.e. a quick nursing, to reify their security. Num-nums fortified those little ones’ world like nothing else.

Caring nothing for the opinion of elements of the public, to whose consternation, my nurslings walked and talked, I provided my children with affirmations, boundaries, and milk. As well, I often barricaded myself in the bathroom as soon as those kids were safely in the care of my returnedfrom-work husband. Many of my boys and girls were, b’ayin tova, ”progressively developed,” i.e. were learning on a sharper curve than were their age peers, and, as such, were 49 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

faster than average to fray nerves and to damage artwork.

Nonetheless, in due course, my kids and I grew out of that phase. My body, in combination with my most creative fonts of verbal succor no longer could remedy all of their ills. We had entered the phase in which I had to cheer them from a (limited) distance.

Once, for instance, when a son of mine patted the wrong end of a sheep and jumped like a pole-vaulter when the creature in question baaaaed in response, all I could do was shrug.

Another time, a loved one was teased for eating healthy lunches. That daughter got known as her elementary school’s Hard Boiled Egg Queen. Whereas I rehearsed her, nightly, on smart responses to the chief bully, i.e. on deflating his power by agreeing with him that she enjoyed fully cooked eggs, she had to face him herself.

During that part of our shared lives, sometimes, matters were beyond my ken. There was the occasion, for example, when, upon examining the “bug bites” on a child of mine who had become suspiciously busier with scratching than with fighting with siblings, digging up my prized petunias, or chasing our cats, that I determined we had an infestation not of mosquitoes, but of impetigo. To date, I remain unsure as to whether or not my gal pal, the one who had been due to drop in, with her brood, that day, appreciated my last minute cancellation of our plans. I am certain, though, that it would have been wrong of me to share with her family our highly contagious bacterial infection.

50 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

As my children matured, so, too, did the nature of their challenges. When my daughters were teens, there were days when one deconstructed our kitchen faster than the other could clean it. Such goings on would have been less horrible had those girls not also repeatedly requested that I supply them and their brothers with cotton candy, chocolate bars, and popcorn, to supplement the results of their culinary “experiments.”

Likewise, during that span, my boys were up to their eyebrows in martial arts. No dislocated shoulders or broken bones resulted from that research, but we did have one emergency adventure, at the hospital, to reset a cracked nose. My family grew out of that stage, as well, eventually.

Too quickly, my oldest hit the twenties and my baby entered high school. My sons and daughters entered the chapter in which they considered themselves to have caught up with me. Accordingly, they maintained that I, not they, ought to wash their socks, sweep beneath the kitchen table, and take out the trash. Beyond that rhetoric, they insisted that no one, i.e. Mom, ought to disturb them while they were completing the world’s next greatest novel (three of the four actively write). My episodes of harrumphing seemed to have little impact on their worldview. I tried to convince those juveniles that it would be beneficial to their family for them to emulate the features of protoplanetary discs, i.e. to spin their energies in the direction of cosmic cleanup and in the direction of electronic shut. My efforts were of no avail.

They relayed to me, in response, that young adults need 51 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

less inspiration than do their elders to “get to it.”

Consequently, our home remains in disarray, but entire dialogues get passed from bedroom to bedroom, if not by dint of the pigeons nesting in our kitchen’s windows, then via media too confounding for me to understand, e.g. texting, IMing and cell phone pinging. For those taller and taller children, “street creds” get awarded per the length of time a youth stays seated in his or her sanctuary and per the degree to which he or she circumvents me (actually, they are very helpful to me, to visitors, and to strangers, to friends, to extended family, and so forth, but the paradigm of authority has shifted here and the behaviors that subsequently fall out of these newest changes feel odd).

As for me, I maintain that all of my years consist of milk and honey. I proffer that rainy days are great for lavender, but crummy for humming birds. I try to fixate on the growth of the former and on the activity of the latter, especially as that activity wondrously takes place in and around the purple-tipped stems growing in the window boxes of my third floor office. My children need me differently than they did earlier in their lives. While I work to accept that change, I do not embrace their towers of laundry.

Copyright © January 2015 KJ Hannah Greenberg.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: KJ Hannah Greenberg gets high on adverbs, mixes more metaphors than a platypus has pockets, plus giggles so much as to not actually be indomitable. What’s more, she runs with a hibernaculum of sometimes rabid (imaginary) hedgehogs, and attempts to match make words like “balderdash” and “xylophone.” Hannah's newest books 52 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

are: Dancing with Hedgehogs, (Fowlpox Press, 2014), Don’t Pet the Sweaty Things, 2nd ed. (Bards and Sages Publishing, 2014), The Little Temple of My Sleeping Bag (Dancing Girl Press, 2014), The Immediacy of Emotional Kerfuffles (Bards and Sages Publishing, 2013), and Citrus-Inspired Ceramics (Aldrich Press, 2013). She can be contacted at drkarenjoy@yahoo.com

53 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

HELPFUL ARTICLES FOR YOU!

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

54 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Dancing as an Evolutionary Strategy ©Sam Vaknin Author of “Malignant Self-love: Narcissism Revisited” Editor-in-Chief of “Global Politician” DANCES ARE THINLY DISGUISED SIMULATIONS OF SEX ACTS. But there’s more to dancing than bawdy ribaldry. The sweaty proximity allows the partners to exchange an enormous amount of information about their respective bodies: from joint suppleness, through spatial orientation and coordination, and down to the fine details of their immunological systems (such as the major histocompatibility complex MHC) carried by their body odors. In this sense, dancing aids and abets the forces of natural selection and eugenic breeding. Indeed, in many 16 th and 17th century textbooks dancing is grouped with hunting, fighting, wrestling, and running.

In times past, the dance-hall was the only venue open to prospective partners to gather such fitness data. Indeed, there is reason to believe that dancing was consciously invented and designed to do precisely that. Capriol, a protagonist in Thoinot Arbeau’s dance manual “Orchesography”, complains: “(W)ithout knowledge of dancing, I could not please the damsels.” Arbeau himself is nothing if not brutally explicit:

“Dancing is practised to reveal whether lovers are in good health and sound of limb, after which they are permitted to kiss their mistresses in order that they may touch and savour one another, thus to ascertain if they are shapely or emit an unpleasant odor as of bad meat.”

55 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Arbeau and dance masters such as Caroso actually named dances to reflect the underlying amorous, matchmaking process. Inevitably, Puritans and other spoilsports targeted the practice and its purveyors repeatedly in both England and its overseas colonies.

But dancing, as a form of health-enhancing strenuous exercise, also serves to perpetuate the species. This aspect of dancing was especially important when and where women’s movements were restricted by tradition, social mores, and religion: allowed to indulge in dances, even with their own sex, women have thus secured a modicum of sanatory locomotion.

Nowadays, dancing is often thought of as a couple’s activity.

But, this is a recent development. Until the nineteenth century, dancing was a social act and the vast majority of dances involved frequently switched multiple partners, as demanded by ballroom etiquette. Thus, dancing and saltation yielded social cohesion; increased social interaction; and enhanced the opportunities for mating and cooperation.

Also Read: Europe's Four Speeds Switching Empires Transition in Context How the West Lost the East The Criminality of Transition Fascism - The Tensile Permanence 56 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Communism, Capitalism, Feudalism Left and Right in a Divided Europe Anarchism for a Post-modern Age Althusser and the competing interpellations The Beginning of History - Islam and Liberalism Forward to the Past - Capitalism in Post-Communist Europe

Copyright © July 2012 Sam Vaknin.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sam Vaknin ( http://samvak.tripod.com ) is the author of ‘Malignant Self Love - Narcissism Revisited’ and ‘After the Rain - How the West Lost the East’ as well as many other books and ebooks about topics in psychology, relationships, philosophy, economics, and international affairs.

He served as a columnist for Central Europe Review, Global Politician, PopMatters, eBookWeb, and BellaOnline; and as a United Press International (UPI) Senior Business Correspondent. He was the Editor of Mental Health and Central East Europe categories in “The Open Directory” and “Suite101,”

and

is

currently

the

Editor-in-Chief

GlobalPolitician.com Visit Sam's Web site at: http://samvak.tripod.com

57 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

of

58 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

COFFEE HOUSE 4 POETRY LOVERS CORNER

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

59 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

My Love, So True Surrender ŠDeborah Anne Shepard TRUE LOVE, I SHARE WITH THEE Sacred vows given in we That flames soft kiss I feel you closer than this Our destiny love, your arms I feel safe Our truest love, to each special, our place Whispers to each soft glow True love gives with open heart We together share the bond True love makes no lost promises I shall be yours forever 60 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

The gentle touch within, glow with smiles distance.

By Deborah Anne Shepard Copyright © February 6, 2015

*****

My Eternal Love ©Deborah Anne Shepard

A REPLICA OF HIS PICTURE, AS HE WAS MY POET LOVER The Victorian sofa where once we sat courting The Elegant parlor where we kissed, my ring beside his A bowl still left on the library table filled with his roses On the seahorse, the artist painted seas of gulls Chocolate raspberry Settee I waited Is he coming?

I wait each night by the cliffs 61 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

I reached for his hand, it faded once more I still recall his hands, so gentle I listen as I sleep Laurasia theme I comb my silvery hair, The mirror shows a face of old and worn He is there, my hand to his Just as I was ninety years before It is time.

By Deborah Anne Shepard Copyright Š February 6, 2015

*****

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Spirit Comanche Lights ©Deborah Anne Shepard

WITH HER BRONZED WINGS, SHE SPREAD Them far and wide High in the lost tears, fears hidden deep inside above her father's land Many families souls called from the distant graves with her ancestor, she held many waves of remorse Always would cry and pray she kept the flames close Vibrancy of the Comanche Tribe, flames of her people, deep with children's eyes the painters carried her soul Spirits war horse gave them honor and pride she remembered her mother, Pique rode by her father’s side She shall help the spirit, from lost distant lands Songs cried out as souls died, Comanche shall rise, and take the final stand Painted ghost ponies searched each dark night With mistral lights , each still feels the spirit walkers light

By Deborah Anne Shepard

63 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Copyright © February 26, 2015 ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Deborah Anne Shepard is an author, poet and a teacher who was born in Carmel, California, USA, and has a delightful family; a husband that was in the military for 25 years and their son, who is married with one child; making Deborah and her husband first-time grandparents. Deborah says: “I am a teacher and a writer, my background is French, English and Native American Cherokee.”

She attended high school in Carmel, and attended a few years in Germany for grade school. She is currently enrolled in Bates College for Para-educators and Clover Park College.

“I have the child development degree with early childhood and working on special education endorsers. I work with many sites on the web, such as Character Counts for Fort Lewis. I am currently an Educational Specialist and I teach school age and preschool children.”

Deborah has an inspirational book of poetry out titled “The Pages of Time” currently out. It is about fairies, romance, angels, inspiration and character of one’s self. She writes about dreams and angels; she feels she has angels that bless her each day and dreams of her own. Her dream is “to share dreams with others, share the gifts through my poetry.” Deborah’s book is located on Amazon and Barnes& Noble under author: Deborah Shepard. She can be contacted at AngelRainbowne@aol.com __________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________

64 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

65 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Barefoot Boy and the Buffalo Girl ©L Douglas St Ours THE BAREFOOT BOY WALKED Beside the family’s sole water buffalo Pulling a two wheel cart laden With rice, breadfruit, papayas, Coconuts, and melons almost as fat As the impaled hog the villagers Slowly roasted over a pit fire From sun up till supper.

His little sister of milk chocolate skin and black Licorice hair sat astride the bovine's massive shoulders.

Thanks to that buffalo she would not be balancing on top of her head a home weaved basket of produce half her weight On the four mile trek into town.

At the town's coastal market In a babble of crouching women Behind stalls full of the exotic and the fresh, The boy dickered and bartered his rice and fruit For kerosene, matches, and fish.

All sizes and shapes of fish Cooped by the thousands in vast nets cast on the pirate plagued waters of the Sulu Sea. As he journeyed home he smiled remembering how he smoked out and hacked to death the King Cobra Nesting under his father's bamboo chicken shack.

It was that little girl who discovered the viper 66 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Rising, hissing, and terrifying her When she went to collect eggs.

Her story blew my mind.

Her sibling rescuer she had not seen in over a decade And she was that child on the buffalo.

I met her in the modern world on the tail end of the sixties.

I had relationships with white and black girls But I had never seen anyone like her before And I must have watched and stalked her for a month Before another girl--aware of my secret longing--tricked me into finding the courage to introduce myself.

But when the matchmaker went to get her, I chickened out Slipping away to hide in the men's bathroom Till I figured it was safe to come out.

The matchmaker was puzzled, and while I tried to explain, This dark caramel angel returned and I felt like a fool clumsily trying to be cool.

I was spellbound by her petite lovely figure, Waist length silky hair, miniskirt and knee high boots.

She demurely smiled at everything I said.

The first time I took her out I was reluctant to touch her, She seemed so delicate Like those few precious eggs The snake had threatened And her brother had spared.

I picked her up in the morning And we drove sixty miles To the Blue Ridge Mountains.

67 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

We hiked the spine of Old Rag Where I turned over a stone To reveal a hibernating snake And she panicked and ran with fear.

I reassured her that she was safe.

She calmed down and described her Indelible encounter as a child confronted By a Cobra like a Satan emerging from hell.

I hungered to hear more about her life.

But my inquiring at first made her modest and diffident About revealing any more about her growing up.

I unintentionally embarrassed and insulted her When I suggested her grandparents Might have been bare breasted loin cloth headhunters Based on what a white explorer wrote in a 1912 issue of National Geographic. My ignorant speculation merely spoiled the purity of her stories.

As a child she kept a pet monkey That once pissed on her from a mango limb.

She chased, grabbed, strangled, beheaded, and plucked chickens with her bare hands.

They washed their laundry On a river bank where one day A woman was taken and devoured By an estuarine crocodile.

During the dry season Locusts swarmed in clouds blanketing crops and 68 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Clothes. They would swat and kill the bugs with palm fronds And then cook the locusts into crunchy snacks, But her favorite treats were sugarcane, guava, and plantain.

Their village was a cluster of Christian settlers In a land long ruled by the Moslems.

Christmas was the highlight of her youth Playing Mary in a nativity play Followed by gifts of cookies Wrapped in elephant leaves.

No doors, no locks, no keys, no clocks, No wallets, no cars, no telephones, No power lines, no paved roads, no shoes, No radio, no television, no one wore shoes, No doctors, no hospitals, nothing to come Between them and the ruling two season cycle Of the monsoon and the drought.

From her thatched roof house on stilts To the clothes on her back‌her family Of nine siblings grew, raised, harvested, slaughtered, Stitched, mended, built or traded for everything they had Which was only what they needed.

From a hand dug well, she carried water In a weaved bucket Balanced on her head.

Her family had migrated to the rain forest And cleared the jungle and toppled trees Then the women and girls stooped, planted, and cultivated 69 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Rice paddies while the men and boys constructed Deck high dwellings out of teak, mahogany, and palms.

By the time she was eight both of her parents And three of her brothers died literally in her arms.

Funerals presented that rare opportunity For a family portrait, a melancholy gathering Of somber faces grouped around A primitive wooden coffin in which A dead youngster seemed asleep in a cradle.

This wasn't deprivation‌it was her magnificent life.

A rich, fertile, uncomplicated life of toil and toll And I wanted more of what she was about.

She and her surviving siblings Were scattered among foster homes And orphanages on different islands along the chain.

By the time she was the same age I was when I lost my brother, she was sponsored and brought to this country, Adopted by an aunt with assistance from a local church.

Several years earlier the aunt arrived in America As a picture bride to start a family with a Filipino field hand Who earned his citizenship by fighting under the Americans against the Japs.

The new daughter pitched in picking apples And strawberries.

70 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Her stepfather rescued her from a tree after her ladder Fell from her feet. They said as a girl she picked Strawberries faster than anyone in the entire Pajuaro valley.

The choices I made, The rules I had broken, The tragedies I endured, The extremes I experienced, The risks I had taken, The fights I had won and lost, And the luck I made and squandered All paled before her childhood stories I was both diminished and enthralled.

My life's adventures seemed little more Than crumbs on cellophane Upon absorbing her exotic, peasant, orphan, Toiling, wandering existence.

And who was I to be surprised or begrudge Her desire for a sleek shiny car In the driveway of a cookie cutter house With a backyard garden behind a white picket fence.

It was nightfall when we returned from the Blue Ridge, And because she could not remember which road led to her apartment As she was new to DC like me We lost our way...my gas gauge was near empty And we were running in circles.

Under the surface my frustration grew Though this being her first impression Of me, I hoped it didn't show.

71 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

However, she sensed my change in mood And the absurdity of it all And she started to giggle Modestly covering her mouth With her little hand which Was something the island women did.

That's when I felt an overwhelming urge To embrace her and squeeze some Of her holy innocence Into my jaded soul.

By L Douglas St Ours Copyright © June 2010.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: L Douglas St Ours L. DOUGLAS ST. OURS is a poet who was born in Baltimore, Maryland in the USA; the oldest of six children. He attended parochial elementary schools in Baltimore City and Baltimore County. In 1962 he and his family moved to rural Ohio in the USA. Then in 1963 the family moved again to Charlottesville, Virginia where Mr. St Ours attended public high school graduating in 1968.

Doug attended Old Dominion University for one year… dropped out in 1969 to work for a year with the FBI. In 1971 he took courses at the University of Virginia then dropped out in 1972 to get married in California. He returned east with his wife to Fairfax, Virginia and enrolled at George Mason University where he graduated in 1975 with a Liberal Arts BA. 72 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

From 1966 to 1976, Doug worked as a laborer and frame carpenter in the building construction industry. From 1976 to 1989 he was employed in the nonprofit healthcare sector.

From 1990 to 1992 he worked at a Social Services nonprofit. From 1993 until his retirement in 2005, Mr. St Ours was employed in the banking industry.

Since he retired in 2005, Mr. St Ours has devoted his time to volunteering as a Mentor at Big Brothers/Big Sisters and as a Therapeutic Mentor with Catholic Charities.

He has traveled on the road to 48 states in the U.S., 5 Canadian provinces, and 2 Mexican states. He is married with one grown child, a daughter. Currently he resides outside of Baltimore, Maryland. Mr. St Ours has been writing poetry and prose for over half a century because he has a passion for storytelling; his poetry is a means for him to tell stories. He can be contacted on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/l.stours.3 __________________________________________________________________ __________________________

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74 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

OFF THE PRESS! Take a look at the BEST In Contemporary Literature for Authors Books, Anthologies, Literary Magazines & Journals, Then Order Your Very Own Copy Through The Links Provided for You!

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For more info about Award Winning Poet, Writer and Photographer DARREN B. RANKINS (POET RANKINS), click on the graphics and it should take you to his website. If the graphics don’t take you there or isn’t showing up for some reason, please click on either of these links below instead: www.ireport.cnn.com www.purethoughts.info Poet Rankins on Facebook Phone: 615-582-5128 Books Pure Thoughts Vol. 1-4 “DarrenBRankins” on Twitter; “Darrenpt” on Pinterest; “Darren2466” on Instagram; “Darren66” on Tumblr.com Email: mailto:rankins.darren@yahoo.com or mailto:purethoughts24@yahoo.com www.youtube.com/darrendbr www.purethoughts.info “This is my new Promotional t-shirt design and a few photos of me as an extra on the ABC TV Show Nashville. My new book which is coming out soon. A copy of my” www.gofundme.com/Darren2466

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A Telltale Secret by MJ Rain (Melissa Lorraine Gulick)

Five Keys. Two Parallel Universes. One Destiny.

88 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Willow Rain lives in a seemingly perfect world with her sister and their nanny, on a planet where those who are deemed useless seem to vanish without a trace, along with those who speak of the forbidden keys.

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

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

89 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

About the Author: MJ Rain (Melissa Lorraine Gulick) is a wife, an activist, and a published author. She lives in Iowa in the USA with her husband, her mother, and their Siamese cat, Luckness Monster. MJ’s passion is to have a major impact on the world by causing a positive change through her writing. She has always made her presence known for causes she believes in, and plans to continue doing so as she expresses herself through words. Stay tuned for Book 2 of her ‘A Telltale Destiny’ book series; ‘A Telltale Secret’ is Book 1.

MJ

Rain’s

Facebook

Author

Page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mj-Rain/517670434943373 MJ Rain’s Novel Blog: http://mjrainwriter.wordpress.com/ ==================================================

90 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Passionate Plea

By Thomas Bryant

91 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

He

awakens

in

Buckskin

Canyon

nudist

camp

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

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

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

Disabled and facing his toughest challenge, he returned to his first love of poetry and found a whole new world as a 92 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

novelist, authoring the Sammy Page thriller series; including the romantic thriller, ‘Passionate Plea,’ and soon-to-bereleased, ‘Mental Revenge.’ He currently resides in the Ozarks

of

Missouri

in

the

USA.

Author's

website:

www.sammypage.com Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorthomasbryant and Twitter: www.twitter.com/ThomasABryant ================================================== ====================

93 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Fictional Dramatic, Suspenseful Novels

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

About Bonded Betrayal: There’s a cliché that states one should not date their best 94 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

friend. Whatever the reasons, the fear of losing a friendship or not finding true love; most use this cliché as a golden rule. Six friends from McKinley High reunite for their ten year class reunion.

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

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

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

Brianne must disclose her horrible high school encounter 95 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

Get Your Autographed Copy of ‘Bonded Betrayal’

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

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

96 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

About Gossip Line by Nanette M. Buchanan: A new beginning is what Melinda Wells was seeking when she left her home in Mobile, Alabama. As a journalist, her dream of 97 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

writing for a large newspaper would never become a reality having the experience the Mobile Register offered. Melinda embraced the thought of moving to New York, landing her job as a journalist in Manhattan, and her new love interest Jerome Belmont, despite her father and grandmother’s warnings.

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

Her new lifestyle became more than what Melinda expected.

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

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

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

However, revealing the caller’s identity could be fatal to more 98 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

than the show.

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

Skeletons Beyond the Closed Door…

About Skeletons beyond the Closed Door by Nanette M. Buchanan: Brian and Sage Drakeford were living their life as a loving 99 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

couple and devoted parents until Sage caught her husband cheating. Seven years after their divorce, Sage Monroe Drakeford finds it hard to love again. As skeletons from her husband’s past resurface, Brian desperately wants to remain a part of his family’s life.

After meeting a client who expresses his feelings for her and his knowledge of her husband’s secrets, Sage fights to ignore her emotional attachment. It is apparent Brian has moved on and jealousy becomes a reason for Sage to consider dating. Just as she decides Brian is not worth her putting her life on hold, his indiscretions become more than she is willing to accept.

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

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 100 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

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

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

It is her goal to become a successful author without limits; writing and producing plays that feature her poems as well as adaptations of her novels on the “big screen” are in her 101 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

future.

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

within

communities.

The

author

is

available

for

personal appearances, chats and signings. ================================================== ===========================

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Fiction Novels

By ROSE ANNA SCHOENE Absolutely the Last Resort Where Are You? And But! I’ve Always Loved You

ABOUT BUT! I’VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU: But! I’ve Always Loved You, Rose Anna Schoene’s third book, is about stunning Jessie who is raped at twelve and bears a son who is then taken from her. As she grows up she is repulsed by men until she meets devastatingly handsome André, who offers her a forbidden love amidst magical, romantic Rome.

Jessie’s

loyal

friend

Debbie

is

always

there

for

her;

steadfastly aiding her in her lifelong quest to find the son she gave birth to at thirteen and her quest to find that one true love. Will Jessie succumb to André’s charm? Will she ever find her son?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: ROSE ANNA SCHOENE is a native New Yorker who made her writing debut with ‘Absolutely the Last Resort,’ a charming and nostalgic family-oriented book, which fictionalizes many of the author’s personal experiences owning a resort in the 103 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Catskill Mountains of New York for over 30 years. This book reflects just one aspect of the author’s life and creative talents, and introduces us to her artistic and comedic nature.

She has a writing style that is both entertaining and uplifting which reflects Rose Anna’s true writing persona; yet she proves the versatility of her literary scope with her second novel, ‘Where Are You?,’ which offers a serious, dramatic and paranormal-love storyline, and her third novel, ‘But! I’ve Always Loved You.’ Where Are You?, Rose Anna’s second book, is about Dr. Joy Evans and Dr. Dean Judson, who collide in the corridors of St. John’s Hospital—their introduction is the beginning of a torrid and tender love. Two weeks later, they are married and in six months they relocate to the state of Pennsylvania, where Dean takes over the practice of a retiring doctor and feels that his ambitions have been fulfilled. But when Joy does not return from a quick errand to the store and her car is later found, Dr. Dean Judson’s entire life takes a plunge into despair. Then strangely, Dean begins seeing Joy, or what he perceives to be Joy. In the early hours of the morning, he is awakened from his sleep and sees Joy at the foot of his bed. She seems to glide around and then vanishes. Is he dreaming? Is he hallucinating? Is she a spirit or is he going mad…?

All three (3) of Rose Anna’s books are available to 104 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

purchase on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble.com, Seaburn Media Group.com or on her author page: http://www.thecatsmeowforwritersreaders.com/to-fictionnovels-by-author-rose-anna-schoene.html Ordering Info for Rose Anna Schoene’s books: Absolutely the Last Resort by Rose Anna Schoene Publisher: Seaburn Media Group Publication Date: 2003 ISBN #: 1592320600; 144 pages Price: $14.95 Where Are You? By Rose Anna Schoene Publisher: Seaburn Media Group Publication Date: 2006 ISBN #: 1592320090; 124 pages Price: $14.95

But! I’ve Always Loved You by Rose Anna Schoene Publisher: Seaburn Media Group Publication Date: 2010 ISBN #: 1592322530; 169 pages Price: $14.95 ================================================== ========================

105 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

A Fiction Medical Thriller

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

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

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

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

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

SANDRA HOYNACKI retired from her nursing job to care for her mother who had Alzheimer’s. She has since become an avid writer, and has already won several contests for her poems and was once invited to read at a Poet’s Convention in Washington, DC. Sandra is the author of two books of 106 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

poetry: “Purple Latches” and “Whispers from the Ledge.”

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

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

254 pages, and can be purchased through Sandra’s author website: www.SandraHoynacki.com, through Barnes & Noble.com or wherever books are sold. ************ ALSO BY SANDRA HOYNACKI! A Book of Poetry and A Book of Poetry and Short Stories Purple Latches And Whispers from the Ledge Review of Purple Latches: ****** “I'm familiar with the exemplary life author Sandra Hoynacki leads; her book Purple Latches includes some of the most beautiful poetry your eyes shall ever read and witness.

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The words of imagery and artwork shall instill within you an uplifted spirit like none I've ever read in my fifty-eight years on earth. Each poem opens ones physical senses and starts a movie in the minds eyes where you can leave at the end with the most dynamic thoughts ever perceived in ones written words of truth and mystery.

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

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

Ordering Info for Sandra Hoynacki’s books “Purple Latches” and “Whispers from the Ledge”: Purple Latches by Sandra Hoynacki Publisher: Lulu Press Publication Date: June 2007 ISBN #: 9781430322931 Price: [Print-edition] $19.50; [EBook-downloadable edition] $12.00; 158 pages, and can be purchased at: Sandra 108 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Hoynacki.com, Lulu Press, Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com, or wherever books are sold.

Whispers from the Ledge by Sandra Hoynacki Publisher: Lulu Press Publication Date: December 2008 ISBN #: 9780557029044 Price: [Print-edition]: $15.17; Not yet available in EBook edition. 148 pages, and can be purchased at: Sandra Hoynacki.com, Lulu Press, Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com, or wherever books are sold.

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A Fiction Romance Novel

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

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

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

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

110 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Hurry!

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

(Ordering info next page…)

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

ALSO BY ROSALEE WILSON! A Children’s Book

By ROSALEE WILSON A Mushy Mouse Tale

111 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

Mushy Mouse is a mouse looking for love and a family to call his own. He struggles with self-confidence and the idea of someone loving a fat mouse like him. But Mushy and an Indian mouse named Feathertail form a bond that will last a lifetime.

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

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

Hurry! Go to www.lulu.com and order your copy of “A Mushy 112 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Mouse Tale by Rosalee Wilson” today!

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

113 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

A Fiction Paranormal Romantic Novel A Nonfiction Book of Survival

By CAROL ROACH Storytime Tapestry Ezine’s Founder & Publisher (www.StorytimeTapestryEzine.com)

Angels Watching Over Me And

Picking Up the Pieces: One Woman’s Journey

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

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

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

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

Carissa’s life has been anything but easy. She had known the scorn of poverty; the battle of rejection, the sorrow of death. However, Carissa has a quality that hinges almost on the supernatural; her faith and assurance in a God who is 115 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

more than enough. We are taken through the life of Carissa from her youth in a small rural community and her family to her final victory as a woman who never compromised despite the hardships such decisions would bring. Her life stood as a testimony.

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

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

--Shirley Johnson, Senior Reviewer for MidWest Book Review ************

116 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

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

117 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

By TRISHA MARTIN My Naked Mind: An Intimate Collection of Poetry Fed Up Woman Trisha’s Treasures: Gems of Inspiration And Spirit of the Hawk: Mental Flight (Book 1) ABOUT THE AUTHOR: TRISHA MARTIN is a published author, poet, entrepreneur, blogger, and talk radio show host. Her book publications include “My Naked Mind: An Intimate Collection of Poetry” [April

2005],

“Fed

Up

Woman”

[May

2011],

“Trisha’s

Treasures: Gems of Inspiration” [May 2011], and “Spirit of the Hawk: Mental Flight” [2012].

Having “Fed Up Woman” published was like closing the book on a chapter of her life that ended a long time ago, Trisha reflects. With two of her four children now grown, she plans on spending much more time giving her fans what they want more of. You can visit Trisha over at: Trisha's World

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Reviews for “My Naked Mind: An Intimate Collection of Poetry”: ***** “The words contained within the pages of author, poet and entrepreneur TRISHA MARTIN’S book are filled with compelling, deep, emotional and inspirational poems that readers should be able to identify with. Each poem is written with clarity as the author pours her heart and soul into her writing. If you're a poetry lover who likes reading personal works of others, this book of poetry is a must-read!” **** “I have never read poetry so vividly written, taking me on a continuous journey from emotion to emotion!”

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

By Trisha Martin Publisher: Publish America Publication date: April 2005 ISBN #: 1413744540 84 pages; Price: $14.95 Fed Up Woman by Trisha Martin 119 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

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

120 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

A Book of Poetry and Short Stories

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

Mirrored Images

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Author, Founder and Publisher Rosanne Catalano (RC Kayla), is pleased to introduce her book Mirrored Images, which is a quick read at 165 pages! It is a book containing the author’s collection of short stories and poems (some fiction, some fact) written for your reading enjoyment and for those who love guessing games!

“Mirrored Images” by Rosanne Catalano begins with a poem about, and dedication to, her late father and still-livingmother and goes into a short story about an experience with bullying in the eighth grade of school to being saved by a guardian angel when the story character was in her mid30’s. An interesting read in which you, the reader, may want to guess which of her stories are fact or fiction…

Reviews for ‘Mirrored Images’ by Rosanne Catalano:

******

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

“It touched me because of the love shown for her parents, God, and her husband. It touched me because I was the kid with glasses who was bullied and picked on and I could feel Rosanne's pain when it happened to her. It touched me 122 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

because I have lost my parents and her tribute to her father, and mother, brought back all of the good times and love I had with/for my own parents.

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

“These are stories we should not only want to read, enjoy reading, but they are stories we all need to hear. I get a glimpse of the love and courage that Rosanne shows, and shares, in her magazine--and our most welcome online correspondence.”

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

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

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

“Though it sounds like she had a most wonderful Dad and Grandmother too; her grandmother reminded me so much of 123 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

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

--Sandra L Hoynacki; Author, Poet and Nurse.

****

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

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

--Carol Dee Meeks; Writer and Poet.

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

Escape & Redemption by Rosanne Catalano Coming Soon!

Synopsis of “Escape & Redemption:” 124 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

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

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

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

Be sure to pick up your copy of “Mirrored Images” today at Lulu Press, BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com, or at Rosanne’s website: Author Rosanne Catalano / The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine Ordering Info for “Mirrored Images”: Mirrored Images by Rosanne Catalano Publisher: Jane W. (Lulu Press) Publication Date: January 2007; Revised 2013 ISBN-10: 978-1-304-66346-7 ISBN-13: 978-1-257-40573-2 Price: [Print-edition] $13.20; [Nook-edition] $6.00; [Kindleedition] $5.00; 165 pages, and can be purchased at Lulu 125 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

Press, Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com or at Welcome to Author Rosanne Catalano's Official Site AND the 2nd Home of The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine

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

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

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

HOW SOME ARE SUPPORTING THE CAT’S MEOW FOR WRITERS & READERS MAGAZINE: In

each

magazine

issue,

and

within

author

Rosanne

Catalano-Umland’s website, there are links to various 127 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

businesses and literary magazines such as Amazon.com, First Writer.com, Filbert Publishing, Angie’s DIARY (#1 Online Magazine for Professional and Aspiring Writers), How-To Corp, and many others that are also on the Helpful Sites For You page of the author’s literary magazine website. When purchasing products through these links, it helps support The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers and keep your subscription free! Thank you for your support throughout the years.

The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine is dedicated to: Rachel Renée Carmine (“Carman”) Catalano Anna (“Ann”) Inzinna-Pollicino-Catalano Harold (“Clint”) Welch Pauline Mullé-Infranco Joseph Infranco Direct URL: www.thecatsmeowforwritersreaders.com Copyright Kayla):

©

2004-2015

Founder, Publisher

Rosanne &

Catalano-Umland

Author.

ISSN

#:

(RC

2237-65.

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

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced 128 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015

into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,

mechanical,

photocopying,

recording,

or

otherwise),

without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this magazine. The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine accepts no liability expressed or implied, for any advertisement, editorial or products contained within.

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

The Cat's Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine®™ Is an independently-owned and operated literary magazine supported by readers like you, and by grants and corporate sponsorships from various organizations and companies; some of which are listed on the "Helpful Sites for You" page of Rosanne Catalano’s website.

129 | The Cat’s Meow for Writers & Readers Magazine April-June 2015