CRAZY CAT LADY by Amy Reece

 

CAT SITTER NEEDED

$50 CASH—One Night ONLY

Apply in Person

653 Silverwood Ln Apt B

 

 

Rita looked from the folded newspaper to the small adobe duplex in front of her. Well, here goes. My chances of getting murdered or sold into a sex trafficking ring are pretty good, but I need the fifty bucks. Need might be overstating it, but she wanted to go to the concert and she didn’t have the money for the tickets. Her meager paycheck from her work-study job didn’t stretch much farther than covering the bare essentials. If she wanted any fun money, she had to find other ways to acquire it. She’d done it all: research studies, selling her plasma, modeling for art studio classes. Answering a jinky ad in the college newspaper was nothing. She had left a note in her dorm room telling her slumbering roommate where she was, so at the very least maybe they’d be able to recover her body. She shook off the dark thoughts and approached the house.

A tall, thin elderly woman answered the door. “Yes? How can I help you?”

Rita held up the ad. “I’m here about the cat sitting job.”

“Oh, my dear, yes. Well, come in.” She opened the screen door and stood back to allow Rita to enter.

The living room smelled musty but looked tidy, with sagging, old-fashioned furniture covered with bright, hand-crocheted afghans and doilies. Several cats raised their heads from where they snoozed on the cushions, then lowered them disinterestedly. A tray with a flowered china teapot and matching cups was set on the coffee table.

“Have a seat and I’ll pour you a cup of nice hot tea. It’s so chilly out this evening, isn’t it?”

Rita sat and accepted the cup of steaming tea while she frowned at the woman. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Oh, no,” the woman said breezily. “I was expecting you.” She smiled as she sipped her tea. “Or someone like you. I put the ad in the paper and I knew someone would be along presently.” More cats of every color had wandered into the room. There had to be nearly fifteen cats winding their way around her feet, perching on the back of her chair, and leaping into her lap.

“Oh.” Rita nodded dumbly and fumbled with the handle of the delicate cup, spilling tea into the saucer.  “So, when exactly do you need the cat sitter?”

“Well, tonight, of course. I need to go visit my sister in Santa Fe. I’ll be back soon after breakfast tomorrow. Now, let me show you where I keep their food.” She reached forward to set her cup on the table.

“But, but,” sputtered Rita, “don’t you want to know about me? About my qualifications?”

The woman laughed lightly. “It’s only feeding a few cats, dear. It’s not rocket science. Come along.” She stood, shooing the cats from her lap, and led the way into the kitchen. “The dishes are here.” She pointed to a row of small ceramic bowls lining a dish drain. “And the food is in this cabinet. They like to eat around nine and then you can wash up.”

“Okay.” Rita nodded and counted the bowls. There were only six. “Do they take turns eating? Should I refill the bowls after the first group eats?”

“I think you’ll find one round is more than enough. Most of these are ghost cats, of course. Poor dears.”

Rita stared at her blankly. “Ghost cats?”

“Yes. They seem to be drawn to me. They just can’t move on quite yet. They’re not like dogs, you know.”

Rita didn’t know. In fact, the only thing she was sure of was that this woman was obviously insane. Ghost cats? What the hell? But fifty bucks was fifty bucks, and if she had to placate a crazy woman to get it, she was glad to. “Great. No problem.”

“Now, feel free to help yourself to anything if you get a little peckish.” She led the way back to the living room, where she picked up a small, old-fashioned train case Rita hadn’t noticed before. “Be sure to lock up after me. Have a good night and I’ll see you early tomorrow.”

Rita stood in the middle of the living room and watched her leave. “Wait! How do I—” she wrenched the door open to ask her final question, but the woman was gone. She stepped onto the porch and looked upon and down the street, noticing red taillights at the stop sign at the far end. She must have had a cab or an Uber waiting. She shrugged and closed the door, locking it as instructed. Then she turned to address the room. “Well, cats and kittens, I guess it’s just us for the rest of the night. At least she keeps this place clean. With this many of you it could really reek.” She’d eaten an early dinner at the cafeteria so she wasn’t hungry. The remote was on a side table, so she grabbed it up and found a cat-free cushion to sit on. The woman didn’t have cable, but Rita managed to find a rerun of a show she enjoyed and sat back to while away the hours until feeding time. The cats, for the most part, minded their own business and left her alone. A few finally crept close enough to sniff her, but then stalked away. She’d never been much of a cat person, so she took no offense. Feeding time went off without a hitch and the woman had been correct: the six bowls were more than enough. Cats came and nibbled, but none cleaned out their bowls. Many of the cats simply came and stared at the food without touching it. Weird. Maybe they are ghost cats.

She got hungry around midnight, but found nothing but a few stale crackers in the cabinet. She took them with her to the couch, pulled one of the crocheted afghans over her legs, and fell asleep watching an infomercial.

The key in the lock woke her the next morning. She sat, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning! I’m sorry I woke you. How did everything go last night?” The woman set her train case by the door as she walked in.

“Um, fine. Yeah, everything went great.”

“Oh, good.” She rummaged in her purse for her checkbook and a pen. “Now, I’ll let you fill in your name. Here you go.” She handed her the check.

Rita glanced down at it, noting the spindly handwriting, but satisfied that it was indeed for fifty dollars. Sweet. Easy money. She sat up and folded the afghan and laid it across the back of the sofa. “Thanks. Well, have a nice day.” She waved awkwardly as she let herself out of the apartment. I’ll just swing by the bank and cash this, then stop to buy the concert tickets on my way home.

“Can I help you?” The voice came from the house next door. “What are you doing?”

“Huh?” Rita turned as the woman marched down her front path to confront her.

“Were you in that apartment? How did you get in? That door is supposed to be locked! Oh, I’m going to kill my husband! He never checks!”

“Excuse me?”

“What were you doing in there?”

“No-nothing! I mean, I was watching that lady’s cats for her.” She realized she’d never asked the woman’s name. “She paid me. See?” She held up the check for the other woman.

The woman glanced at the check and frowned. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you better get out of here before I call the cops!”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything wrong! I answered an ad in the paper to come and watch that lady’s cats for the night. She paid me fifty dollars. See?” She showed the check to the woman again.

The woman snatched the check from her hand. “Nobody lives there! The woman with all the cats died two years ago! We’ve had a heck of a time getting renters to stay because they swear it’s haunted or some nonsense! Now, if you’re not here about renting the place then I’m going to ask you to leave. Now. Before I call the police.” She glanced down at the check, laughed briefly, and handed it back to Rita.

Rita took the check and looked at it to see what could have made the woman laugh. Her eyes widened as she saw it was not a check at all; it was nothing more than a piece of torn newsprint. It fluttered to the ground as she ran, the woman’s laughter echoing behind her.

 

Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.  WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

(Amy Reece ) RWISA Author Page

Who are Daniel and Ariel?

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Daniel and Ariel are fabled twins of Elven prophesy, the children of Soraya and Lukus, destined to bring down the terrible witches who wield the Heart and Staff to rule the world… if you hold with Elven lore.

Heart of the Staff Complete Series Box (1)

 

 

 

 

The witches certainly do. Empress Spitemorta so fears the very possibility of any Elf ever having children by a human that she has decreed that every living Elf shall be found andStone_Heart_Cover_for_Kindle slain. And indeed the twins have the lineage, with Soraya an Elven princess and Lukus the descendant of the great First Wizard. Spitemorta’s grandmother Demonica destroys the Elven Castle at Oilean Gairdin, sending the Elves fleeing into the wilderness with Soraya and Lukus and the twins for years to come.

DoomIn the midst of their exodus, Ariel forms a heart bond with Abaddon, Spitemorta’s very son. Will the Prophesy not come to pass?

 

 

 

 

Carol Marrs Phipps & Tom Phipps

It will Take Daniel and Ariel to Save the World from Spitemorta and Demonica

 

“Grandfather?” said Rose.

“Yes?”

“Do you and King Neron think war is unavoidable?”

Razzmorten sighed and looked at her with a grave face. “Without a miracle, yes indeed,” he answered.

“Thank you for being straight with me, Grandfather,” she said as she cast a worried look at Fuzz. “We’d feared it would be so, but we were hoping that, you know, with the Elves being Elves…”

“Sure. You’d hoped they’d have some magical and quick solution.”

“Yes.”

“Rose, I’m afraid that even though the solution will indeed be magical, it will not be at all quick.”

“Grandfather! It sounds as if you know how to stop this war.”

“Yes I do, Rose, but it is neither in my power nor that of the Elves.”

“Then, who can possibly do it?” she said, as Mystique traded places walking in the path with Abracadabra.

“Oh, Daniel or possibly Ariel, or perhaps both of them together…”

“But they’re babies!” she said with a gasp. “It’ll be years before they’re old enough to do such a thing. What’ll be left of the world?”

“Not much as we now know it, I fear,” he said, bearing the most haunted look she had ever seen come from his kindly and steadfastly optimistic old eyes, “not much at all.”

Ch 31, Stone Heart

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carol Marrs Phipps and Tom Phipps

 

Wham! Print Book Now Available (Read 1st chapter FREE)

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We are excited to announce that Wham! Book 1 Timewalker is now available to purchase from Amazon as a print book. Read the first chapter below Free.

Chapter 1

Someone shouted in the kitchen. Tess Greenwood sat right up in the blackness. “Dad?” she gasped.

Someone screamed.

“Mom!” cried Tess as she stumbled onto the floor in a panic of pillow and sheets, in time for her door to fling wide with blinding light and a bang that shattered things on her dresser.

“Hey!” barked the silhouette in the doorway. “No way you’re running by me!” And with that, he tramped right in, jabbing her in the throat with the end of his e- truncheon.

“Aah!” she wailed with the throb of its electric jolt as she sat down hard on the floor.

“Like that, little witch?” he hissed through the mask of his plastic helm. “Now you’re going into the kitchen on your hands and knees, real careful or I’ll hold my stick against your stinking throat ’til y’ pass out. Move!”

As Tess rolled onto her knees, she could hear her sister’s squeals of defiance as she kicked at the pair of cops who had hold of her in the kitchen.

“Nia!” shouted her mother before crying out in pain.

“You vile bastards!” roared her father.

Tess leaped through the doorway in time to see two of the police from Children and Family Assistance squirt his mouth full of thick polymer from their gob stopper gun, as he gagged, bouncing and jerking against his restraints in red-faced fury.

“I told you!” bellowed Silhouette, grabbing Tess by the arm and yanking her onto the floor.

“Tess!” cried her mother. “Stop! They’ll kill you if y’ don’t quit!”

“That’s right!” shouted Silhouette.

“Nia!” cried Tess at the sight of the police kicking her.

“Hey!” shouted Silhouette. “That little whore’s going to the capitol. And they won’t take her all beat up! But this one,” he grunted, giving Tess a furious kick, “has earned it!”

“Tess!” screamed her mother in time to be silenced with a kick in the head.

Her father sprang from the floor in spite of his restraints, slamming into Silhouette in a rage that knocked over the refrigerator behind them. Suddenly police were everywhere, beating him senseless, dragging him and his dear wife out the door into the early light of dawn.

“Mom! Dad!” screamed Tess as car doors slammed outside.

Now they had Nia by the arms. “I’ll love Drake forever!” she wailed as they forced her outside.

Tess bit the hand that grabbed her mouth and dashed outside to leap down the steps as two of the police cars lurched into the roadway with a chirp of tires.

“Bite me again, little witch!” roared Silhouette as his truncheon came down behind her ear.

***

Beyond the front steps, the sun rose well into the morning, glinting on a green bottle in the bare red dirt of the yard. Sparrows cheeped everywhere in the noise of the traffic from the roadway. Tess sat up just long enough to see that she was in her room, caught herself on her elbow to keep from toppling out of bed and lay right back down with a groan.

At the bounce of her bed springs, an elderly woman pushed back a chair and stood up in the kitchen. “Whoa there, deary-do!” she called, stumping right in to look at her this way and that. “That might be a bit quick. You got two black eyes. And the nurse said the copper only whacked y’ one good one on the back of the head. And what I want to know is, can y’ even see out of either one?”

“Kind of…”

“I’m Maud, sweetheart,” she said, giving Tess’s hand a squeeze. “Maud Baxter. How ’bout some tea? So far, the only pot I’ve found has half the spout gone…”

“It pours. We’ve been using it… Please!” she said with a scald of fear as she sat right up. “Where’s Mom and Dad? And Nia?”

Maud stopped short with wide eyes. “Why Children and Family Assistance,” she said, scarcely shaking her head. “And I’m to be in here for a few days to help y’ adjust…”

“When are they coming back?”

Maud shook her head as if she were about to cry.

“No!” shouted Tess in a great wail of despair.

Old Maud had her in her arms at once, rocking her and smoothing her hair for a good long time. At last, she gave her a pat and sat up. “I’m going to go fix that tea,” she said.

Tess lay back with shooting pains in her head, in spite of the sedatives given to her by the nurse.

Maud was back in short order, finding a chair for the tea. “I hope you’re not too old for animal crackers,” she said. “I found this nice box. And it only had one teensy little maggot and some web. All I had to do was shake it out and put the crackers back in.”

Tess drew in a deep, shuddery breath. “Where do you live, Maud?”

“Up at the north end with Mort and Bart. That’s my husband and m’ crow…”

“I don’t feel so good,” said Tess handing back her half full cup.

“I should say! You’re white as a sheet. The nurse said that you’re to be sleeping. Just lie back and I’ll be right out here in the kitchen.”

Tess lay back more quickly than she had meant to. “Your husband and who did y’ say?” she said, wincing at the whirling ceiling. “I swore you said Crow somebody…”

“My pet bird is a crow…” said Maud from the doorway.

“And Mom and Dad really, really aren’t coming back?”

Maud shook her head and was back at Tess’s bedside at once, smoothing her hair away from the tears she was squeezing from her swollen eyes. It was not long until Maud could see that she was sound asleep. She stood, propping her hands on her knees for a moment before straightening up the rest of the way and shuffled quietly into the kitchen.

Beside the toaster under the cupboards rested a polished stone ball. The moment Maud stepped in, it gave a faint flash. “Yeh?” she said, looking right at the face which was appearing in it. “I know my place well enough not to discuss her family. I’m professional. Besides, I know very well that you saw the whole thing. Now, I want to talk to Mort.” She picked up the ball and sat with it at the table. “Mort?”

Mort was already peering out of the “skinny,” as everyone called these things. “I’ve got the rest of the day, Maudy,” he said. “They don’t have me spraying until tomorrow, first thing.”

“As you might’ve overheard before I left, I’m at the south end of the far south barrack, facing the road. I’ve got to scratch around before I know what I’m fixing, but I’m starting on dinner, right now.” And with that, she parked the skinny in a storage jar lid, so that it wouldn’t roll off the table, and set about to see what might be fixed to eat. There certainly was no meat of any sort. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to look,” she was careful not to say aloud. It was rare for anyone to get his hands on meat except for the day before one of the world holidays. All of the world holidays were mandatory to observe. Disarmament Day commemorated the destruction of the last private firearm. Emancipation Day marked the outlawing of all religions. And Unity Day was the day when the World Alliance began its tyrannical rule everywhere. She found a few pounds of limp carrots in the bottom of the refrigerator which she and the nurses had managed to set upright, some black pepper and a box of very old-smelling milk powder.

While she was searching for a kettle without a hole in it, Mort was up at the north end, wheeling his bicycle out the door. He fiddled with the cuff of his breeches as the breezy whistles of the starling overhead gave way to a bubbling chatter. After a couple of tries, he was mounted. With Bart digging in his toenails and swaying ponderously on his shoulder, he gave a wild swing to the left, an immediate weave to the right, and with a rattle of fenders was underway with all the aplomb of a cyclist in his prime.

“We’re going to have carrots,” said Maud as Mort hauled his watermelon of a belly up the last step. “I just now put them on.”

“Smells like old refrigerator,” he said, backing stiffly up to a chair by the table, “but I expect it will be good…” He sat down with a sudden plump and let Bart shuffle down his arm to the back of the nearby chair to begin at once, sorting through his feathers.

“Maud?” called Tess from the bedroom. “Are you still here?”

“I’m on my way with just a cup this time, dearie-do.”

“I don’t think I can,” said Tess. “I feel like vomiting.”

“I hope y’ get over that. I’ve got carrots starting to boil.”

“I’m ‘way too sick. Is someone here?”

“Mort and Bart.”

“Well please go on and eat without me. I’ll just puke. But Maud, please stay.”

Maud gave Tess’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll be right here as long as y’ need me, sweetheart,” she said. And with that she returned to the kitchen.

“Just the girl?” said Mort, looking up.

Maud nodded.

“Well how is she?”

Maud went straight to the cupboards as if she had not heard him, unplugged the toaster and parked it directly in front of the skinny as she took a chair at the table.

“I said how is the young lady?”

“Oh she’s doing just fine. A nice long nap and she’ll be right as rain,” she said as she leant across the table with a roll of her eyes and an ear-to-ear shake of her head. “I think she’ll be ready to start her new life in no time.” She was still shaking her head as she glanced at the toaster to make sure that no one on the skinny had seen.

“And she understands what happened?” he said, ignoring the stone ball, since he had no toaster to hide behind.

“I think she’s anxious enough to get going in her new direction,” she said, closing her eyes with an even bigger shake of her head. “But I’d not know for sure, since it’s never our place to discuss such things. That’s for the councilors at Children and Family Assistance. But I think most young clients are quite ready for a change, long before it comes.”

Bart ruffled up his feathers and gave himself a thorough shake.

“Maud!” wailed Tess from the bedroom. “The wash basin! Got ‘o puke!”

“Oh my stars!” said Maud. “Where do you reckon they keep it?”

Tess thumped across her bedroom floor to the toilet in the bathroom with an explosive cough of yellow fluid.

“Oh deary-do!” said Maud as she stumped in. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t find the pan. Why you don’t have a thing in your stomach to throw up, do you…?”

“Gawf…angk…awmff…!” hooted Tess, nodding her dribbling chin over the iron stained porcelain of the toilet bowl.

Maud saw at once that there was no skinny in the bathroom and pushed the door to. “Those rotten coppers!” she said in a low voice as she daubed at Tess with a towel.

“I’ve cleaned up their work every blooming day now, for years. And I swear. I just don’t begin to know how they can do that to families.”

“I thought you worked for…” moaned Tess.

“For Children and Family Assistance? I do, but my job’s cleaning up after them.

And you didn’t hear one word I said, either. Now. If I help y’ up, can you make it back to bed, or do you need to steady y’ self a bit longer?”

“Unng…!” said Tess, leaning back over the water.

“Seems y’ do…” said Maud, looking up at the sudden pounding on the kitchen door. “Mort!” she hollered “Let me get it!”

Tess had a look of blanched terror as Maud got to her feet. “Oh deary-do,” she said, “that can’t be the coppers, unless you’ve had a skinny ball in here with us. You don’t, eh?”

Tess gave a rigid shake of her head, and Maud stumped right out past Mort and Bart. She hooked the chain and opened the kitchen door against it to peer out at two teenagers. She closed the door, undid the chain and opened it wide. “Yeh?” she said with her fists on her hips.

The young man dug the gum out of his cheek with his tongue and looked her up and down from under the tattoos of his shaved head. “You’re not Tess, lady,” he said, as his sister craned this way and that in her nose rings and Mohawk hair-do, trying to peer inside.

“Took y’ long enough to figure it out, but I’m glad y’ finally managed,” said Maud. “Now. Tess isn’t up to company, so you two are going to have to leave.” And with that, she closed the door and turned the lock.

“Hey!” shouted the pair outside as they pounded on the door. “You can’t do that! Children and Family Assistance sent us! We’re Trent and Jasmine Warren, her new roomies!”

Maud hooked the chain and turned away. She found Tess still kneeling by the toilet. “What’s wrong, dearie-do?” she said, when she saw that her nausea had been replaced by a look of dread.

“That was the Warrens?” said Tess. “They hate me.”

“Why on earth?”

“Well…they made me take my shots at school,” she said, frowning at her thumbnails. “But I’m just not at all ready for that. Trent knew about my shots and was after me all the time. Everybody always knows when a girl gets her shots. And I wouldn’t have anything to do with him, in spite of how pushy he got. And Jasmine? She calls me ‘earhole’ all the time and makes ugly faces, but I think she hates everyone at school.”

“Aw dearie-do,” said Maud with a grunt, as she strained to kneel beside her with a brush. “I hate what’s become of the schools. Y’ know, they actually taught me to read, when I was in school.”

“Mom and Dad taught me,” said Tess, stifling a sob.

“You didn’t let the school find out, did you? Something like that could very well have been what brought in the Children and Family Assistance.”

“Oh, they always told me that I had to keep my reading a secret.”

Maud nodded. “Well back to those two, I locked the door,” she said. “But if they do have orders, they’ll be back and we’ll have no choice but to let them in. Meanwhile, I can at least get a delay order in place until you’ve recovered enough to deal with them. Now if I can just get back on my feet, I’ll help y’ back to bed if you’re ready.”

Once Tess was back in bed, she closed her eyes and wondered if there was any way to flee. “But where would I ever flee to?” she thought as she drifted into a deep sleep.

She had not been asleep very long when Maud opened the kitchen door against the chain and peered out the crack at a blond young man in denim, whom she recognized at once to be Drake Evans, but knowing better than to give him away to the stone ball on the table, merely said: “Yes?”

“Maud Baxter!” he said in wide-eyed alarm. “Why are you…? Nia! She’s here, isn’t she?”

Maud closed her eyes with a quiet shake of her head.

“No!” cried Drake.

Maud immediately closed the door. She would not have him overheard, blurting out something that would bring the police. There was not another sound from outside the door. She squeezed shut her eyes for a moment, and with a totter, shuffled to the table to sit with a tired sigh across from Mort and Bart.

***

Tess awoke to the smell of bread toasting on the griddle and talking in the kitchen.

“Would you mind if I waited until she’s awake? I promise I won’t stay too long or upset her.”

“That depends on how she wakes up,” said Maud. “She’s been having quite a time with her medicine…”

“Maud!” cried Tess as she sat up. “I’ve got to puke and I’ve got the whirlies bad! Could Drake help me to the toilet?”

Drake was at her bedside at once, helping her to her feet. The moment he had her kneeling by the toilet, he let the door swing quietly to. He had long known that the bathroom had no skinny, but he waited for Tess to speak in case that they had just been forced by the authorities to add one.

“I heard one of the cops say that Nia was going to the capitol,” said Tess with an unexpected sob. “And the last thing she said was, she’ll always love you. And poor Mom and Dad! It doesn’t look like I’ll ever, ever know…” And with that, she threw back her head and wailed with despair.

Drake had her in his arms at once, tears streaming down his cheeks. He looked away, struggling to hide a sob of his own. After a time, he turned to study her. “What on earth did they do to you?” he said. “You’ve got two black eyes that I can see…”

“Oh, one of the coppers whacked me on the back of the head with his e-stick…”

“The back of your head! Not your eyes? He must’ve damned near killed you…”

“I don’t know,” she said, closing the lid and sitting on the toilet. “But they’ve got my middle all wrapped up tight. Do you suppose they broke a rib or two? That same cop was kicking me. Nobody’s said a thing.”

“Do you know where the capitol is?”

“I don’t think anyone knows,” she said, feeling of her middle. “Well, I reckon the coppers would have to know, wouldn’t they?”

“Yeh, but they aren’t people. Nobody ever talks to them, especially not the ones working for Children and Family Assistance. No one ever talks to any of those things…”

“And what I can’t figure out is why that old lady out there in the kitchen is so nice. She’s working for them. She said so.”

“I know why,” said Drake. “She and old Mort out there lost a daughter who’d be our age, had she lived. And they’ve not been able to have any more. They’re ‘way younger than they look, but they were living out in the country with all the spray for quite a while after the World Alliance took over.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Maud and Mort knew us. When Children and Family Assistance took Mom and Dad, Maud got assigned to me, so they helped me through my transition, just like they’re doing for you. And I don’t understand them taking Nia. Children and Family issued the license for us to be married in two more months and everything…” he said, coughing out a great sob in spite of himself.

He was dragging an eye down his sleeve when Maud pushed open the door. “If Tess is over being sick, it’s time we got her back to bed,” she said as she shuffled in with a towel.

When they had gotten Tess settled in bed, Maud saw Drake to the door and stepped outside with him. “I’m afraid Children and Family Assistance is only giving her a week before she has to let those Warren kids move in,” she said as she pulled the door to behind her. “And if I read her right, I can’t picture her managing with a pair like them, particularly not with the boy after her skirt.”

“That wouldn’t be Jasmine and Trent Warren, would it?” said Drake, turning about on the bottom step and looking up at her.

“It was Jasmine. I wasn’t sure about his name.”

“Oh I’ve got medicine for them,” he said. “Just a chat if you need me to.”

“Right away would be good.”

Drake gave a nod, came back up the steps, pecked her on the cheek and hurried on his way to supper, unaware that Trent and Jasmine were right above them in the spreading branches of the great burr oak by the steps.

As Tess got settled, the skinny on her dresser turned bright blue. “Tess?” it said.

“Give me a moment,” she said as she labored to sit up and throw aside her covers.

She rose and came back to bed with the glowing stone ball. It took a bit of uncomfortable shifting about, but soon she was sitting with it between her knees as its swirling colors gave way to a dour bald man in hospital garb.

“How are you Tess?” said the man.

“I’m not sure I feel like talking…” she said.

“You were well enough for time with Drake.”

“So he could help me in to puke. It’s a lot of fun, vomiting for company…”

“Tess,” said the man. “Have you any idea why it was necessary to resettle your parents?”

“I can’t imagine how anything like that could ever be necessary…”

“They’ve allowed you to become sarcastic and defiant when you should be expressing your respect and gratitude. The teachers and counselors at your school have been concerned. Your parents weren’t managing…”

“No!” she cried out in hoarse anguish, “No! No! No!”

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Cover Reveal for Wham! (Book 1 Timewalker) Print Book

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We are Happy to announce the upcoming release of Wham! (Book 1 Timewalker) print book. Watch for it on Amazon.

 

Cover Reveal for WHAM!

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We are happy to announce the release of Wham! book 1 of our new series, Timewalker. It is a dystopian fantasy time-travel novel , and we hope our readers will enjoy it as much as they have our epic fantasy books. getBook.at/8ba

Blurb:

When the World Alliance seized power from all the governments of the world, they said it was for the greater good. They said it was necessary to unite all the nations of the globe under one banner in order to bring universal peace, equality and prosperity to the world.

To most families throughout the world, the rise of the Alliance and their grandiose promises meant little. They had long grown weary of the lies of the corrupt law-makers and heads of state and were far more concerned with their day-to-day struggles to survive.

The Greenwood family was no exception, and for a time life went on much as it had before the rise of the Alliance. In time, individual cultural and racial identity were outlawed. They said it was for the greater good. They said it was necessary to create a more harmonious, homogenous world community. The Greenwood family adapted.

But then they took away freedom. They made it mandatory for all households and public buildings to have skinwelers, crystal spying balls in every room, in order to watch the people’s every move. They said it was for the greater good. They said it was necessary for public safety and civil order. And the Greenwood family adapted.

But then the state took their family farm and lands and moved them to Gollsport where they had built barracks for all the displaced citizens. They said it was for the greater good. They said the countryside had become contaminated by farm chemicals and the relocation was for their continued health and safety. Once again, the Greenwood family adapted.

But then they came in the night and took away seventeen year-old Tess Greenwood’s entire family. They said it was for the greater good. They said Tess would adapt and in time she would be far better for it.

But Tess cared not for the Alliance’s greater good. She did not adapt. She wanted her family back and vowed to do whatever she must in order to see them again. Little did she know, that to keep her vow, she would have to become a timewalker.

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Someone shouted in the kitchen. Tess Greenwood sat right up in the blackness.

“Dad?” she gasped.

Someone screamed.

“Mom!” cried Tess as she stumbled onto the floor in a panic of pillow and sheets,in time for her door to fling wide with blinding light and a bang that shattered things on her dresser.

“Hey!” barked the silhouette in the doorway. “No way you’re running by me!”

And with that, he tramped right in, jabbing her in the throat with the end of his e-truncheon.

“Aah!” she wailed with the throb of its electric jolt as she sat down hard on the floor.

“Like that, little witch?” he hissed through the mask of his plastic helm. “Now you’re going into the kitchen on your hands and knees, real careful or I’ll hold my stick against your stinking throat ’til y’ pass out. Move!”

As Tess rolled onto her knees, she could hear her sister’s squeals of defiance as she kicked at the pair of cops who had hold of her in the kitchen.

“Nia!” shouted her mother before crying out in pain.

“You vile bastards!” roared her father.

Tess leaped through the doorway in time to see two of the police from Children and Family Assistance squirt his mouth full of thick polymer from their gob stopper gun, as he gagged, bouncing and jerking against his restraints in red-faced fury.

“I told you!” bellowed Silhouette, grabbing Tess by the arm and yanking her onto the floor.

“Tess!” cried her mother. “Stop! They’ll kill you if y’ don’t quit!”

“That’s right!” shouted Silhouette.

“Nia!” cried Tess at the sight of the police kicking her.

“Hey!” shouted Silhouette. “That little whore’s going to the capitol. And they won’t take her all beat up! But this one,” he grunted, giving Tess a furious kick, “has earned it!”

“Tess!” screamed her mother in time to be silenced with a kick in the head.

Her father sprang from the floor in spite of his restraints, slamming into Silhouette in a rage that knocked over the refrigerator behind them. Suddenly police were everywhere, beating him senseless, dragging him and his dear wife out the door into the early light of dawn.

“Mom! Dad!” screamed Tess as car doors slammed outside.

Now they had Nia by the arms. “I’ll love Drake forever!” she wailed as they forced her outside.

Tess bit the hand that grabbed her mouth and dashed outside to leap down the steps as two of the police cars lurched into the roadway with a chirp of tires.

“Bite me again, little witch!” roared Silhouette as his truncheon came down behind her ear.

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Blog Tour for C.S. Boyack

Author Photo (3), C S Boyack

Will O’ the Wisp Research

Will O’ the Wisp is the newest release from C. S. Boyack. It involves a mildly handicapped girl facing a mysterious threat. The wisp has been killing off Patty Hall’s family for Book Cover (1), C S Boyackgenerations, and she’s next on the list. It is suitable for young adult readers.

All stories involve some kind of research. I set this story in 1974, because I wanted Patty to use her wits, and display a bit of patience in revealing this story. Suspense is a great story technique, and having high speed internet would have spoiled some of the fun.

1974 threw down the first research challenge. I was around in ’74, but memories fade over time, and I had to verify my details. Patty’s home town has an International Harvester dealership, there’s a Montgomery Wards catalog store too. Greyhound Busses make an appearance in the story, along with the early microwave ovens.

Some of these things are still with us, but they had a different nuance back then. A microwave oven was looked at as a modern miracle. Pay telephones were the order of the day in an era before cellular. I even researched the baseball playoffs and incorporated them into the story. Who can forget Catfish Hunter?

This is a paranormal story. I had to research the American colonies, and discovered an old system of land grants called hundreds. These were basically 100 acre grants for forming new colonies.

The Will O’ the Wisp is a very rare natural phenomenon. Modern science still doesn’t know exactly what they are, but they’ve been reported all over the world and in almost every culture. They are associated with swamps, old cemeteries, and earthquakes. I even found one, and only one, video of them appearing right before a Canadian earthquake.

It’s hard to research something so rare. Theories abound as to swamp gasses that ignite, to a plasma phase of some rare element, to tectonic plate friction. As humans drain swamps, and fill in marsh lands they are becoming even more rare worldwide.

Legends from all over the world involve ignis fatuus, Jack o’ lantern, fairy lights, and more. The legend usually involves some evil spirit leading a traveller to his or her doom.

In my mind, it was witchcraft. It ties in with colonial America, makes a great curse, and sets the stage for Patty’s adventure. Salem, Massachusetts seems like the logical place to set this tale, but that’s been done before. I learned that most of the colonies have records of witchcraft in one form or another. I set my story in Virginia.

Patty goes on quite the adventure, and I’m very happy with this book. I hope you’ll give it a chance.

You can pick up a copy on Amazon using your Kindle or a free reading app. Download it here:

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On Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9841203.C_S_Boyack

 

Author Bio:

I was born in a town called Elko, Nevada. I like to tell everyone I was born in a small town in the 1940s. I’m not quite that old, but Elko has always been a little behind the times. This gives me a unique perspective of earlier times, and other ways of getting by. Some of this bleeds through into my fiction.

I moved to Idaho right after the turn of the century, and never looked back. My writing career was born here, with access to other writers and critique groups I jumped in with both feet.

I like to write about things that have something unusual. My works are in the realm of science fiction, paranormal, and fantasy. The goal is to entertain you for a few hours. I hope you enjoy the ride.

“This tour sponsored by 4WillsPublishing.wordpress.com.”

 

Blog Tour for J.L. McFadden

Author Photo (2)

 

Deep in the desert of the Middle East, Adela flashed up to a grand door of a great palace. It was about three hours after dusk, and the wind was blowing a light sand blanketof silk, covering any and all tracks on the sandy floor of the moon-lit desert. The oversized door creaked open, revealing massive guards with swords on their hips. Adela was greeted by a beautiful, little creature, in her late teens, with dark, toned, silky skin,and dark, haunting brown eyes. The slender, athletic body was clad in robes made of the finest materials that revealed every curve without actually showing the flesh below.Another young woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and also small, athletic body took Adela by the hand. Adela could smell that both of these two were human girls, but this was not unusual for this king of the desert.

The girls guided Adela to a door, and as the door opened, the smell of sex and essence filled the air. Adela shook her head, his appetite for lust was never quenched, and he always wanted more. The room had lavish loveseats and couches all about, and plush pillows were tossed all about on the floor. At the end of the room, a man draped in gold and a lavish robe, sat upon a throne of gold, and on both sides were two women with their chests exposed for the world to see. In his left hand was a golden staff that was filled with gems.

He motioned for her to come towards him. As she approached, she bowed her head as he also returned in respect. One of his guards forcefully grabbed her by the shoulder and tried to force her to her knees, not even a hair could he budge of her.

Fahim sat silently, looking irritated, tapping his fingers and thumb on the top of the staff. Not a breath was breathed throughout the entire room, except for Adela; she was the only one that felt sure of what was to come. Fahim’s men hung their heads in fear of what was to come.

Adela knew full well that men in this area of the world did not take kindly to a woman showing power and defiance, but then again, she was now the Queen of the Night. She knew this coven was going to be the hardest to swing her way, but would most likely make the rest fall in line.

A clacking snap of his fangs to gain attention, “So the stories, they are true. Tiss you that slayed that burden on our lands.” He motioned her closer with his pointer finger.

“The story of the Guardian?”

Adela nodded a confirming yes. Fahim sat back in his throne, looking Adela up and down. He had always found her unusually attractive, but now, she was the very vampire that had taken out the man he despised more than anything on this planet. This fact made her that much more desirable to him. The question was could he finally have this conquest?

“Your personal Guardian?”

“He rather belongs to my great-grandniece.”

“So, it seems that fate has graced your family with a second Guardian.”

There was a deadly silence in the room; even a pin drop would have rung throughout the entire room. He called a servant over to him and whispered something in his ear. The servant left the room as though he was on a dire mission.

Book Cover

Author Bio: J.L McFadden was born in  Pennsylvania and spent his life bouncing around the States until beginning to travel the world. Starting out he was a well-known musician in upstate New York that had a heavy playing schedule. Later he went back to his home state to work in the Lumber mills of the mountains. In California working in sales, management and even directed a small moving company until deciding to see the world. His travels around the world have allotted him to not only join an International Aikikai Aikido Federation, but have trained with Sanseis from Belgium, Ukraine, Russia and other European countries. He accounts his journeys and meeting of new people to his broad character types in his books.

Book Blurb:  While still doubled over, picking up a book, Adela stated with a sultry voice, “One of these days, I am going to make you deliver on all of those promised ideas, running through your head when you watch me.” She had a playful sound to her voice with her smile, telling that fulfilling his dreams was not out of the question.

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Rave Reviews Spotlight Author Blog Tour for Helen Treharne

Helen_Treharne_Author_Bio_pic[1]The Moment I Felt Like a Writer

 

I always wanted to write. Always. As a very young child I wrote short stories about an orphan called Annabelle who became the charge of a wealthy family and had lots of crime fighting adventures wearing crinolines.  When I was I around nine, my primary school teacher asked all the pupils in my class what they wanted to be when they grew up. Some said nurses, others said fire-fighters. There may have been one or two doctors or policeman in there too. Bizarrely, I think one may have said accountant. When it came to me, I proudly said “Author”.

So what happened? Why did it take the best part of twenty years for me to become one? Like many people, I have very diverse interests. I loved history through my academic life, as well as English and the classics. I also happened to be very good at art. Nobody seems to encourage kids to think of writing as a profession and my experience is no different. Relatively bright academically, that’s where my focus was driven and I was happy enough. There were plenty of things I found interesting.  It wasn’t all about hitting the books though, my skill with a pencil and charcoal was picked up on, and until I was around sixteen I was pretty certain I would study Art at university.  I was incredibly frustrated with the way art was taught in school and controversially decided not to take it any further, abandoning it in favour of A Levels in English, History and Sociology and then later with a degree in Sociology (with English Literature and Philosophy in the first year).

My career trajectory looked like it might be an academic one and for a while I entertained the thought of studying the social sciences further, lecturing even. Despite it all though, nothing ever seemed to feel quite right.  Once I graduated I had a run of sales and marketing jobs, including in the construction industry, and ended up working for a specialist company. My career in recruitment lasted for more than ten years, with every day a success but leaving me feeling decidedly hollow. Good works, volunteering, working with the disadvantaged – nothing seemed to fill that gap.

Then something peculiar happened. I am a huge fan of fitness and lifestyle guru Jillian Michaels and I can attribute much of my relationship to writing to her. Why? I was driving in my car one day, listening to her podcast. She was talking about living a fulfilling life and building a career out of something you love. I immediately bought her book Unlimited, which outlines a framework for building an exceptional life.  One of the elements in working out what you should be doing with your life is thinking about what you wanted to do as a kid and find a way of doing that, or something akin to it, now.  That’s most likely to be the thing your core self wants and would make you happy – the things that you would love to do if society would stop telling you what you should do for a minute.  It might not be entirely possible of course. You may not have the talent to make it as a pop star, but perhaps you could teach music, work in a studio or open a music store!

I looked back and thought – writer, I’m writer! But what should I write about. I had a couple of failed starts. Once was a Christmas story for children set in an alternative universe (I will work that out and finish it one day… this year if things go to plan). I also tried to write a few short stories, some of which I published in Off the Bench. Then an idea came to me – a vampire book with a female lead who was on the face of it ordinary and one who wasn’t going to fall in love with vampires. I wanted to write the type of book I would have liked to have read in my early twenties. With that ‘Relative Strangers: A Modern Vampire Story’  and the Sophie Morgan vampire series was born.

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Writing Relative Strangers was very much a work of pleasure. I put no pressure on myself and when I published it as an eBook, I honestly didn’t expect anyone to buy it.  When people began downloaded and reviewing it was amazed. Yet I didn’t think of myself as a writer. I didn’t even tell friends. My husband and mother knew… that’s it!

The initial flurry of sales gave me a boost and I decided to publish in paperback using Createspace. The rise of print-on-demand services for authors is a wonderful thing. It means we can reach a broader audience. For me, it was printing in paperback that made me feel like an author. When my first bundle of printed copies arrived I carefully thumbed their pages and smelled the contents. I ran my fingers over the cover and loved the touch. It was everything that I hoped it would be.  I took three copies and stacked them on my bookshelf, sat back and admired them. Did I feel like a writer yet? Almost, but not quite. Then someone bought one. Then a friend asked for some signed copies as gifts.  EBook sales have outstripped paperback sales considerably, but there is something about looking at those hard copies on my shelf that, yes, I am a writer.

Helen Treharne is the creator of the developing “Sophie Morgan Vampire Series” as well as short stories and other prose. Helen lives with her husband, three cats, an entrenched tea addiction and an increasing collection of stringed instruments. When she’s not writing she spends her time daytime hours working in communications and volunteers for a feline welfare charity. She also runs a very successful book blog, reviewing and promoting the work of other indie authors. She also can’t stop purchasing stationery. She can be found at her blog, Facebook page and on Twitter.