After sisters Annabelle and Maisie meet the gigglepuss outside on the
trampoline, they suddenly can’t stop giggling. Their dad has a hard
time believing they met a gigglepuss, calling it “mythical
nonsense.” But as time passes and they giggle harder and harder,
there’s no choice but to take them to the doctor, who provides an
unpleasant but effective remedy. Wonder who else in the family will
encounter that rascally gigglepuss?
When big sister Annabelle decides to go against Mom’s rules and take
little sister Maisie Grace for a ride in her pink Barbie Corvette,
she has no idea of the adventure that lies ahead! Join these
wandering sisters as they explore Miss Millie’s garden and fail to
obey the sign: Do NOT pick the Daisies! What will happen when
Maisie unknowingly plucks one daisy from the garden?
Julie Wenzlick is a retired English teacher who loves to rhyme. She began
writing poems and stories in second grade, and she loves to share her
books with elementary students in hopes of inspiring them to write
their own stories. Three of her books were inspired by her
granddaughters Annabelle and Maisie. She often gets the question from
her young audiences, “Did this REALLY happen?” Her book
“The Day Annabelle was Bitten by a Doodlebug” was chosen as
Honorable Mention in the Writer’s Digest Children’s Book category for
2017. Julie, who also writes songs to go with her books, produced her
original full-length musical comedy “Singles File,” in the
early 90s at three venues. You can find out more about her at
juliewenzlick.com
Welcome to my stop on the virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nancy Boyarsky will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Liar Liar
A Nicole Graves Mystery #3
by Nancy Boyarsky
Synopsis
Nicole Graves finds herself in the crosshairs when she reluctantly agrees to babysit a witness in a high-profile rape trial. Mary Ellen Barnes is suing her university’s star quarterback for rape when the authorities won’t act. In the court of public opinion, Mary Ellen appears to be the quintessential, pious, good girl. But her lies and mysterious comings and goings lead Nicole to suspect that she’s not what she seems.
Read an Excerpt
Later, Nicole would ponder the truth and its illusive nature. She’d realize how many lies people would tell to protect themselves from it. And, worst of all, how many she herself would tell to get at it. She’d always considered herself a truthful person. Yet she’d find herself lying to others, to her fiancé, and even to herself.
She’d wonder if there was such a thing as the actual truth. Or was truth relative, the product of incomplete or faulty memories, or the limitations of the observer? How often was the truth tainted by what an individual wanted, or needed, to believe?
On this bright day in mid-March, Nicole stepped into the United Terminal at LAX and encountered a situation she could hardly believe. It was as if she’d slipped back in time to the previous year when the media was stalking her. This morning, they were massed in a corner of baggage claim. After the initial shock of seeing them, she noticed they weren’t looking in her direction, hadn’t noticed her at all. They were waiting for someone else, someone they expected to come down the escalator from the arrival gates.
About the Author Nancy Boyarsky:
Nancy Boyarsky is the bestselling author of the award-winning Nicole Graves Mysteries.
Before turning to mysteries, Nancy coauthored Backroom Politics, a New York Times notable book, with her husband, Bill Boyarsky. She has written several textbooks on the justice system as well as articles for publications including the Los Angeles Times, Forbes, and McCall’s. She also contributed to political anthologies, including In the Running, about women’s political campaigns. In addition to her writing career, she was communications director for political affairs for ARCO.
Liar Liar is the third Nicole Graves novel, following The Swap and The Bequest, each of which can be read as a stand alone. Readers are invited to connect with Nancy through her website.
Laura Emily teaches us to appreciate and notice our inner being.
By taking the reader on a journey through her own experiences, Laura teaches us to listen to the
universe and allow ourselves to follow the path the universe is trying to take us on. She tries to
make us understand that even though we may not think the universe is on our side or that things are
not meant to happen, something has not happened yet because we, as individuals, are not yet ready
to receive this event. Once we accept the universe’s plan and allow things to happen, whether they
are good or bad, only then can we truly reach our full potential.
Laura Emily, also known as The Happiness Coach, considers it her mission in life to help uplift the
planet and encourage a shift in the consciousness that people have today. Laura currently does oneto-one coaching through her website, http://www.beagoodsoul.com, to help others achieve their
goals, fulfill their dreams and awaken their connection to the Universe.
. “I enjoyed every day and was grateful for every morning, every afternoon and every evening. I
surrounded myself with people I loved and people who made me feel great. As the months rolled on
I started visualising my life to come surrounded by great friends and a wonderful man. I did not
visualise this to bring it to me, I visualised it only because it made me feel wonderful. Looking back
I can see how aligned I was to the Universe because I spent everyday happy. I would drive to work
and say in my mind, ‘I have the most amazing husband, friends and family.’ Eventually, this image
of a handsome stranger became a familiar image in my mind. I saw a checked shirt and an
impressive physique with thick hair that I could run my hands through and a sense of humour that
always kept my cheeks rosy. Many times in my visions he would stop by for a cup of tea and ask
for ‘a real cup of tea made by a real English lady,’ as he was not English himself. Sometimes I would imagine him busy at work in his office, sometimes I would imagine him relaxed and playing
his guitar to me and sometimes we just danced in the rain in Central Park. One of my most popular
visions was him and I walking through the park, dancing, talking, laughing and sometimes he
would stop me in my tracks and sing to me. He adored me and his spirit made me fly. To me, he
was real. He was so real that anytime I felt down I would go to him in my mind. I remember a
particular time that I was feeling incredibly sad and I was crying in my car on my way home. I
relaxed myself and went within and poured my words out to myself. I spoke out all my feelings and
frustrations, but I did it as if I was with him and telling him about my day. After I had done this I
naturally visualised his response. He was so gentle with me, he was kind, he spoke to me with love
and comforted me. To be honest, I did not even realise I was doing this because it just all came so
naturally. Like I said, he was real to me and after he comforted me I felt a lot happier.
“Then, one day, after having an inspiring conversation with my older brother, I decided to book
a trip to New York City. It was a place I had been to a couple of times and have always wanted to
eventually live once I found a way of doing so. After hanging up the phone with my brother I
walked into my job that day and told my boss I would be leaving. Many people laughed at me,
some told me I was irresponsible but I was making decisions with my heart now, not my head, and
in that month my life changed once and for all.
“On August 8, 2015, two weeks before I was due to fly, a message popped through on a social
media website from a handsome gentleman in the United States. When I say handsome, I mean the
most handsome man I had ever seen with the kindest blue eyes, the biggest smile and the most
intoxicating laugh I had ever heard. After a brief chat, he wished me well and left the conversation.
I was desperate to talk more. I did not know his name or where he was from but I wanted to. I
wanted to know everything about him. It was not just how I felt about him, it was how he had made
me feel through a few words we had shared back and forth. He had so much energy it was
infectious.
“The next day he reached out to me again. I was over the moon. The more he shared his life
with me the more I realised how wonderful he was. He was kind, generous, ambitious, funny and he
loved the Universe like I did. His name was Bobby. He was a business man doing extremely well in
his field. He had toured in a band for many years previously and he still liked to play guitar and sing
now and then when he had the time. He had written many beautiful songs and sang many to me. His
voice was unique and totally perfect and I could barely listen to a song without feeling a rush of
emotions.
“When he asked me what was going on in my life I told him I was traveling to New York City
for a month. He was so excited about the idea and keen to hear about my adventures. Within a
couple of days he had asked me if he could fly over from where he was in San Diego and take me
out because he thought it would be a shame if we never got to have lunch together. I was thrilled.
We made immediate plans and within two days he had his flight and hotel booked and time off from
his hectic job.
“A week later there I was in an apartment on the Upper West Side, which was perfect and
everything I had visualised. Three days after I landed he knocked on my door. I ran down to let him
in and finally got to see those blue eyes in front of me. His trembling lips kissed me and it has been
magic ever since. He spent five days with me before he flew back home and I was grateful for every
minute. We explored the entire city on foot. We shared tasty food over storytelling and the driest
wines we could find. One of my more memorable evenings was sitting at a beautiful restaurant
enjoying Italian food and wine. After the meal was over he leaned in and asked if I wanted to walk
with him to Central Park for a dance. I was beaming from ear to ear as we walked up one block to
where the park was located. Here, we shared our first dance and as we did, it began to rain. There I
was, dancing in the rain in Central Park just as I had visualised. It only rained for about three
minutes. To me, it felt like the heavens had opened to allow me the moment I had once visualised
where he and I were dancing in the rain under a tree in Central Park. I thank God for that moment
still.
“The very next day we were walking alongside the park again and he turned to me and asked if
I liked the idea of getting married in Central Park. I was lost for words. This was something I had
always wanted but never expressed to him. It was like a moment of perfect fate had brought us
together, like he could read my thoughts, like I was stepping into my own self created future. Later
that day he walked me to a spot in the park that he said would be great for a wedding. It was a busy
area but we managed to find a spot to stand and enjoy the view. As we did this I heard some music
playing in the background but not just any music. It was a piece of classical music that I used to
play and visualise walking down the aisle to many years prior. Where was it coming from? I looked
around to see a man playing the cello and playing this exact piece of music perfectly. All I can say
is that I was absolutely stunned. Not only that, after pointing out how beautiful this music was to
Bobby he then turned to me and said, ‘I have always wanted this song played at my wedding. It
would be perfect for you to walk down the aisle to.’
“To this day he still asks for his cup of tea from a real English lady and I always say yes.
Everything about him is what I visualised and nothing has been left out. This for me was my biggest
moment of realisation that we can create exactly what we want and as long as we always go with
thoughts of love we will always receive.
“I believe that if I had not followed my instincts to leave my job and get on that plane then we
may not have met. Our instincts are our inner being guiding us and our inner being never gets it
wrong. One thing I have learned these last few years is to only make decisions out of love. Do not
make haste. Do not make decisions out of fear or revenge or anger because sadly, they will not end
well. Living in alignment will always bring you what you want.”
~~~~~
GUEST POST FROM AUTHOR LAURA EMILY
To be honest, being a writer was never in my plan but I did love reading growing up. It wasn’t until I felt I had so much to share that I just had to write it down and that was how ‘Embracing your Divinity’ was born. I had been through so many changes in such a short space of time and I knew others would have experienced things similar so I wanted to help them. I realised that so many people felt powerless within their lives and I wanted to change that. I wanted to show people what they could really do. We are all so powerful and we have so much support that we may not even realise. If there is anything about your life that you do not like you have the power to change it.
I just wanted to share my knowledge with everyone.
This story is the tree trunk to my enlightenment. Starting with my own journey, I have branched out and been blessed by receiving the time and wisdom of many good souls who wish to also share their stories with you. These souls are not just any souls, they are my friends, relatives, inspiration and masters of these teachings. Some are all four, and I have been lucky enough to meet them along my precious journey.
Some have discovered the Law of Attraction and turned their lives around, some have had the pleasure of finding happiness and enjoying alignment, some have experienced physical manifestations, some have healed themselves and others are simply living in amazement every day as to what they can achieve. I hope that you can relate to our journeys and that they give you comfort in your awakening.
As an example, here’s an excerpt from ‘Embracing your Divinity’. It’s my true story of how I manifested my boyfriend…
“I enjoyed every day and was grateful for every morning, every afternoon and every evening. I surrounded myself with people I loved and people who made me feel great. As the months rolled on I started visualising my life to come surrounded by great friends and a wonderful man. I did not visualise this to bring it to me, I visualised it only because it made me feel wonderful. Looking back I can see how aligned I was to the Universe because I spent everyday happy. I would drive to work and say in my mind, ‘I have the most amazing husband, friends and family.’ Eventually, this image of a handsome stranger became a familiar image in my mind. I saw a checked shirt and an impressive physique with thick hair that I could run my hands through and a sense of humour that always kept my cheeks rosy. Many times in my visions he would stop by for a cup of tea and ask for ‘a real cup of tea made by a real English lady,’ as he was not English himself. Sometimes I would imagine him busy at work in his office, sometimes I would imagine him relaxed and playing his guitar to me and sometimes we just danced in the rain in Central Park. One of my most popular visions was him and I walking through the park, dancing, talking, laughing and sometimes he would stop me in my tracks and sing to me. He adored me and his spirit made me fly. To me, he was real. He was so real that anytime I felt down I would go to him in my mind. I remember a particular time that I was feeling incredibly sad and I was crying in my car on my way home. I relaxed myself and went within and poured my words out to myself. I spoke out all my feelings and frustrations, but I did it as if I was with him and telling him about my day. After I had done this I naturally visualised his response. He was so gentle with me, he was kind, he spoke to me with love and comforted me. To be honest, I did not even realise I was doing this because it just all came so naturally. Like I said, he was real to me and after he comforted me I felt a lot happier.
“Then, one day, after having an inspiring conversation with my older brother, I decided to book a trip to New York City. It was a place I had been to a couple of times and have always wanted to eventually live once I found a way of doing so. After hanging up the phone with my brother I walked into my job that day and told my boss I would be leaving. Many people laughed at me, some told me I was irresponsible but I was making decisions with my heart now, not my head, and in that month my life changed once and for all.
“On August 8, 2015, two weeks before I was due to fly, a message popped through on a social media website from a handsome gentleman in the United States. When I say handsome, I mean the most handsome man I had ever seen with the kindest blue eyes, the biggest smile and the most intoxicating laugh I had ever heard. After a brief chat, he wished me well and left the conversation. I was desperate to talk more. I did not know his name or where he was from but I wanted to. I wanted to know everything about him. It was not just how I felt about him, it was how he had made me feel through a few words we had shared back and forth. He had so much energy it was infectious.
“The next day he reached out to me again. I was over the moon. The more he shared his life with me the more I realised how wonderful he was. He was kind, generous, ambitious, funny and he loved the Universe like I did. His name was Bobby. He was a business man doing extremely well in his field. He had toured in a band for many years previously and he still liked to play guitar and sing now and then when he had the time. He had written many beautiful songs and sang many to me. His voice was unique and totally perfect and I could barely listen to a song without feeling a rush of emotions.
“When he asked me what was going on in my life I told him I was traveling to New York City for a month. He was so excited about the idea and keen to hear about my adventures. Within a couple of days he had asked me if he could fly over from where he was in San Diego and take me out because he thought it would be a shame if we never got to have lunch together. I was thrilled. We made immediate plans and within two days he had his flight and hotel booked and time off from his hectic job.
“A week later there I was in an apartment on the Upper West Side, which was perfect and everything I had visualised. Three days after I landed he knocked on my door. I ran down to let him in and finally got to see those blue eyes in front of me. His trembling lips kissed me and it has been magic ever since. He spent five days with me before he flew back home and I was grateful for every minute. We explored the entire city on foot. We shared tasty food over storytelling and the driest wines we could find. One of my more memorable evenings was sitting at a beautiful restaurant enjoying Italian food and wine. After the meal was over he leaned in and asked if I wanted to walk with him to Central Park for a dance. I was beaming from ear to ear as we walked up one block to where the park was located. Here, we shared our first dance and as we did, it began to rain. There I was, dancing in the rain in Central Park just as I had visualised. It only rained for about three minutes. To me, it felt like the heavens had opened to allow me the moment I had once visualised where he and I were dancing in the rain under a tree in Central Park. I thank God for that moment still.
“The very next day we were walking alongside the park again and he turned to me and asked if I liked the idea of getting married in Central Park. I was lost for words. This was something I had always wanted but never expressed to him. It was like a moment of perfect fate had brought us together, like he could read my thoughts, like I was stepping into my own self created future. Later that day he walked me to a spot in the park that he said would be great for a wedding. It was a busy area but we managed to find a spot to stand and enjoy the view. As we did this I heard some music playing in the background but not just any music. It was a piece of classical music that I used to play and visualise walking down the aisle to many years prior. Where was it coming from? I looked around to see a man playing the cello and playing this exact piece of music perfectly. All I can say is that I was absolutely stunned. Not only that, after pointing out how beautiful this music was to Bobby he then turned to me and said, ‘I have always wanted this song played at my wedding. It would be perfect for you to walk down the aisle to.’
“To this day he still asks for his cup of tea from a real English lady and I always say yes. Everything about him is what I visualised and nothing has been left out. This for me was my biggest moment of realisation that we can create exactly what we want and as long as we always go with thoughts of love we will always receive.
“I believe that if I had not followed my instincts to leave my job and get on that plane then we may not have met. Our instincts are our inner being guiding us and our inner being never gets it wrong. One thing I have learned these last few years is to only make decisions out of love. Do not make haste. Do not make decisions out of fear or revenge or anger because sadly, they will not end well. Living in alignment will always bring you what you want.”
A Study In Shifters Majanka Verstraete
(The Adventures of Marisol Holmes, #1)
Publication date: June 26th 2018
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
Seventeen-year-old Marisol Holmes may be the great-great-great granddaughter of Sherlock Holmes, but it’s hard to live up to the family name when only one mistake can spell your downfall. After trusting the wrong guy in a case gone totally wrong, Marisol convinces the Conclave, an underground organization of detectives solving supernatural cases, to give her a last chance to prove her worth, and maybe even heal her broken heart
After all, as a half-blood jaguar shifter, Marisol is uniquely qualified to solve this murder—and every scrap of evidence points toward the culprit being a fellow jaguar shifter. But is one of her own people involved, or is this all a ploy to kick Marisol’s mother off the shifter throne?
Then Marisol discovers her best friend, Roan, is missing, and maybe the killer’s next target. The stakes just got higher than political intrigue. Just when things couldn’t get worse, Marisol’s ex-boyfriend-turned-nemesis, Mannix, starts leaving sinister clues for her. Marisol fears this case might be far more personal than she could’ve imagined.
It’s time for Marisol to prove her worth, or her people could fall into chaos while her best friend loses his life.
I had a love-hate relationship with the Conclave. Ever since I was ten years old, I’d been solving cases for them, but they questioned everything about me: my methods, my name, my talents. If I hadn’t been such an outstanding detective, they would’ve kicked me out a long time ago—as they eventually did following the Big Betrayal.
The Conclave‘s primary task was making sure humans didn’t find out about the existence of supernatural beings, in particular us shifters.
Unfortunately, the Conclave existed of a bunch of stuffy old men and women who thought they were the finest specimens who had ever walked this earth. All of them had impressive family names and more impressive records, but they had cultivated their snobbism more than their good manners. All besides Saldor, that was.
“Tell us your findings,” Balthazar snarled at me.
“Gladly.” I smiled at Saldor before I continued. One-upping Balthy was a great way to keep my mind off more serious topics, like the past. “The book is spelled. The room’s inhabitant was a grizzled old witch of considerable power. She was killed by summoning a demon. The demon killed her and vanished.” I clapped my hands. “Case solved.”
I started walking toward the exit, but Balthy grabbed my arm to stop me. “Not so fast.”
“What do you want from me now?” I asked him. “Do you want me to solve another one of your silly locked room mysteries? You know I will.”
“Yes.” His voice slithered like a snake. In fact, everything about the man reminded me of the viper he could transform into. “You might be an exceptional detective, Miss Holmes, but you’re careless, and you don’t care about the consequences of your actions. You didn’t even cry. Your own cousin, Holmes, and you couldn’t even shed a tear.”
~~~~~
Author Majanka Verstraete
Author Majanka Verstraete has written more than twenty unique works of fiction. A native of Belgium, Majanka’s novels explore the true nature of monsters: the good, the bad, and just about every species in between. Her young adult books include the acclaimed Mirrorland (YA Dark Fantasy) and Angel of Death (YA Paranormal) series of novels. At MHB, Majanka is currently developing a new YA shifter series with a fresh take on fierce female detectives called THE ADVENTURES OF MARISOL HOLMES.
When she’s not writing, Majanka is probably playing World of Warcraft or catching up with the dozens of TV series she’s addicted to.
After Monsterland has been destroyed, the entire world is thrown into chaos. Wyatt Baldwin and his friends must go beyond the boundaries of their small town to reestablish contact with the outside world. During their journey they discover a new threat released from the bowels of the defunct theme park. The danger of werewolves, vampires and zombies pale in comparison to an army of relentless mummies, Vincent Conrad’s reanimated monster and the menace of a life-sucking ooze they call The Glob. Wil Wyatt and his friends survive when they reenter the scariest place on earth?
Welcome to Monsterland, the scariest place on earth.
When world markets are decimated by a crippling plague, philanthropist, and billionaire businessman, Vincent Konrad decides to place monsters in a theme park setting to promote education and tolerance. Copper Valley is chosen as the primary site for the park in the United States.
Wyatt Baldwin, a high school senior is dying to go to the opening and when he lands special passes to the park, he and his friends are expecting the experience of a lifetime.
After all, in a theme park where real zombies, werewolves, and vampires are the main attractions, what could possibly go wrong?
~~~~~
Monsterland Reanimated Book Trailer
~~~~~
Enjoy this glimpse inside Monsterland Reanimated:
Front page of the Copper Valley Sun
President of the US, World Leaders,and Thousands Dead
Many still missing as the world reels from the impact
of the Monsterland disaster
Multitudes are still unaccounted for and presumed dead. Escaping werewolves, vampires, and zombies of Dr. Vincent Konrad’s theme parks inexplicably escaped en masse and massacred unwitting parkgoers … Massive government shutdowns as the world teeters on the brink of chaos.
Chapter 1
The Night After the Monsterland Catastrophe
A bright moon painted the desert’s surface pewter. Here and there, dark spots soiled the landscape like oil spills. Most of the bodies had been taken before the troops were ordered to leave. They carted away the corpses, bulldozing the zombies into mass graves, until radios chirped with urgent orders deploying the soldiers to the bigger threats that erupted in the main cities like a chain of angry volcanos.
Monsterland was extinguished, its carcass left for the vultures to pick, the exhibits silent as a tomb.
The dead president and his equally dead entourage were whisked away on Air Force One, along with the dark-clad special operatives that came and left like the brisk desert wind that now howled through the empty streets.
A gate screamed in the silence, slamming with a reverberating smash. The uneven gait of someone with a physical challenge filled the void. The scrape and plod of his limp echoed against the wall of mountains framing the theme park. His labored breathing huffed as he made his way down the streets.
A door creaked loudly as it was blown by the wind. He stopped, his distorted figure silhouetted in the pale moonlight, his body turning silver. He looked at the broken glass littering the pavement like diamonds, then up to the still, pre-dawn sky. He considered the sun peeking over the jagged horizon in the east, its golden light painting the dips and hollows of the hills. Soon the coming day would chase the darkness away.
Time was the enemy now. He had to move faster, or it would be too late. He picked up his pace, lurching along the winding road. A keening howl ricocheted through the streets, bouncing off the walls. It sounded like a … no, he thought, it couldn’t be. The werewolves were all dead. Destroyed by Vincent Konrad when he made their heads explode.
The old man paused, listening for it again, and was not disappointed when the animal whimpered. He gauged it to be inside the defunct vampire exhibit. He moved toward the entrance. The storefronts had been destroyed. A few body parts lay on the pavement, as if people had discarded them in a rush. He heard the scraping of paws on the street and a shiver went down his crooked spine.
He knew the werewolves were dead; he had seen it with his own eyes. A figure detached from the shadows. Igor flattened himself against the wall. He watched it move stealthily down the street, stopping when it scavenged a morsel of rotting flesh. It looked up to stare at Igor, its eyes glowing in the darkness.
A coyote? He waved a hand, dismissing it. It had to be a coyote; it was too small to be a wolf, too big to be a dog. The beast twitched its ears, then resumed its meal.
Igor knew the coyote was not a threat, and he continued his mission. His lame foot hit a can, sending a cacophony of sound like an explosion in the deserted park. The beast dropped the bone it was gnawing on, sniffing the area. Its iridescent eyes searched the streets.
It could be a baby wolf, Igor thought, keeping himself as still as possible. He felt it watching him, even from this distance. It was not a threat, yet.
Igor skittered away, hugging the walls of Monsterland, putting as much distance as he could between them. Not an easy feat, considering his distorted hips. He muttered to himself about carrion and the wind. His eyes darted nervously, scouring the hills, not exactly sure what he was looking for. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His heart pounded so loudly he was certain that the creature watching him could hear it too.
His feet stumbling to a halt, he bent over, gasping for air, cursing Vincent and those meddlesome teenagers, as well as the rest of the world.
The beast gave another mournful howl that went right through him. Igor glanced at his empty hands, berating himself for not bringing a weapon. He searched his surroundings for anything to protect himself.
Then he saw it, one of the axes they had on almost every corner. All of them had been pulled from their protective cases. One was lying in a pool of coagulating blood, the blade long gone. He picked up the broken axe handle, turning in a semicircle. He was ready for an attacker.
A new, larger outline made his heart quiver with fear. It crouched in a corner, its snout covered with blood. This one was bigger, not a coyote, a wild wolf. Wait, he thought. Weren’t the gray wolves of California all but extinct?
Igor narrowed his eyes. The beast was a light reddish brown and not the silver gray of a wolf ’s pelt. A chain hung from its neck, the pendant of a werewolf ’s head dangling, emerald eyes flashing. What was it? Was it a mutant coyote? A wolf ? Some weird hybrid, he wondered for a minute, his breath harsh in his ears. They watched each other soundlessly.
A hybrid then. He’d heard about them, a rare mixture of wolf and coyote. What did they call them? Coywolves …? or was it Woyotes? He shrugged indifferently. Perhaps someone’s pet, he decided. Igor’s mirthless laugh came out like a snort.
The coywolf stood still, its ears alert, its head cocked as if it was observing him.
Igor dropped the makeshift weapon, calling out, “Eat the rest of your meal, you dumb beast.”
The animal continued to watch him, its two front paws on the remains of a zombie’s chest.
Igor wiped his forehead, waiting, his eyes coming back to search the village, confirming it was empty, except for the carrion eaters like the coyotes and vultures. He looked up, noting the circling predators waiting for him to move on.
“Interrupted your meal,” he chuckled. Just the local scavengers looking for food. That was all; the shadows revealed nothing else. Satisfied he was alone, he moved on. He had work to do.
A paper flew past him, hitting a kiosk as the wind plastered it against its surface. It flapped like a dying bird. Igor reached over, taking the fluttering paper, peering at the map of the park, the one they gave people as they entered Monsterland. A bark of laughter escaped his mouth.
He looked up at the giant monolith that was once the Werewolf River Run, its hulking shape obscuring the horizon. “You are here,” he giggled, pointing a grimy finger on the paper’s surface. He dragged his deformed body further down the pavement. The storefronts that used to be Monsterland’s Main Street yawned vacantly, the wind whistling through the narrow alleyways. “Now, you are here,” he laughed. Shouting, he listened to the sound of his voice bouncing off the blood-splattered walls.
He made his way to the back end of the zombie village, feeling like the last man on earth. He glanced around at the desolate landscape. His home, the beautiful theme park, was little more than ruins destroyed by the army.
His nose twitched from the fetid smell of rot. The US Army had massacred the zombies. The troops came like a force of nature wiping out everything in its path, every last one of them blown away by the troops.
They were black ops, special forces, he knew from their uniforms. He wondered if things were indeed going as planned. He shrugged, knowing right now nothing mattered except for what he had to do. The irony that he was just about the most important man on earth brought more amusement to his smile.
The local police force was gone, as were the leaders of most countries in the world. He knew all was chaos outside, perhaps even war, each nation blaming the next for the loss of their leadership. Not to worry, he thought. Vincent left America in capable hands.
Dreams do come true, he snickered. Nightmares too, he finished the thought. A long line of drool pulled at his lower lip. He paused at a pothole in the road, decomposing body parts glistening, the disappearing moon turning the bits of bone and brains pearly.
Anxiety bloomed in his chest as he passed the opaque windows of Vincent’s derelict Monsterland hotel, the Copper Valley Inn. He hated that place. Abandoned construction vehicles were frozen in their spots, testimony to the hotel’s unfinished business.
Despite the pastel colors of its exterior, it sat like an ominous crypt to the part of the theme park that Vincent could never control. Told Vincent it was a money pit. Crews couldn’t work because … well, it didn’t matter anymore. The help was all dead. He thought he saw a light flicker in the window, but when he turned, he realized it was nothing more than a sputtering gas lamp that had never been disconnected.
He stood for a while, staring for more activity, and then jerked with the realization that he waited too long and wasted precious time. Surely no one expected him to go searching during the heat of battle.
Vincent said it was enough time to set up the timetable. Vincent knew everything, and Igor felt his panic ebb. It had been barely twenty-four hours since the attack. For all he knew, he could be on a fool’s errand.
He pressed his hand on his hip, his back screaming with resentment at so much movement. He was not used to any exercise. He sighed, wiping his brow with the ragged end of his costume, the lace scratching his skin. He caught the cuff, snagging the material with his teeth, tugging it free from his velvet jacket. He loathed the show and was glad he’d never have to endure the humiliation of performing again, especially with the vamps. Those condescending, blood-sucking parasites. He wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore, he thought with satisfaction. Vincent had promised he’d not have to endure them for long, living up to his part of the bargain quite nicely. They were gone, torn apart by the werewolves or transformed into a tasty dinner by the zombies. Either way, they wouldn’t be bullying him with their nasty insults. Something buzzed around him, and he swiped at it.
It felt as though he walked to the other side of the earth. Why Vincent had to pick Zombieville to make his last stand, he’d never know. The Werewolf River Run would have been much more convenient. It was getting lighter now, and he could easily make out the smoking devastation.
He searched the horizon, his eyes resting on the burnt wreckage of a golf cart, the torched skeleton listing at an odd angle.
Pulling his lame foot, he pushed himself as fast as his body could travel, his breath hitching with the effort.
The corpse was gone. He knew they would have taken that for DNA testing, proof that the enemy was vanquished. The only things left were the putrid carcasses from Monsterland, the decaying zombies, massacred vampires, and what was left of the werewolves after Vincent had exterminated them.
He climbed a small hill, his bad leg screaming with pain. Igor crowed with triumph when he saw it, the discarded lump of flesh, lying forgotten in a ditch, face down. He shivered as the desert wind stirred and eddied around him. Damn, but it was desolate here.
He hunkered down, forcing himself to skitter on the hardpacked earth. He wondered what his son, the vice president—no, he corrected himself, the new president of the United States, Mr. Nate Owens—would think of his father now, scrambling like a dung beetle in the dirt.
He cursed. The drool was back, dripping from his mouth like a sparkling spider web. Instead of rising—it was beyond him at this point—he shimmied over to the severed head, reaching forward, reverently, grabbing it by the matted hair, and grasping it to his chest.
The black eyes stared back dully, the dark depths reflecting the hunchback’s twisted smile.
Vincent Konrad’s lifeless face lay in his hands, the pale lips open in a soundless scream.
“I’m so happy I could kiss you, Vincent!” he told the decapitated head. He cradled the face of his friend. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
The moon bathed the face a pale blue. The hunchback jiggled the dead weight, cackling with delight as the one papery eyelid drooped as if it were winking.
In the distance, that coywolf howled, making Igor suck in his breath with fear. He tucked the head under his arm as he struggled back up the small hill, mumbling something about Plan B.
~~~~~
About Michael:
Michael Okon is an award-winning and best-selling author of multiple genres including paranormal, thriller, horror, action/adventure and self-help. He graduated from Long Island University with a degree in English, and then later received his MBA in business and finance. Coming from a family of writers, he has storytelling in his DNA. Michael has been writing from as far back as he can remember, his inspiration being his love for films and their impact on his life. From the time he saw The Goonies, he was hooked on the idea of entertaining people through unforgettable characters.
Michael is a lifelong movie buff, a music playlist aficionado, and a sucker for self-help books. He lives on the North Shore of Long Island with his wife and children.
I am so excited that POWER OR FIVE by Alex Lidell is available now and that I get to share the news!
If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book by Author Alex Lidell, be sure to check out all the details below.
This blitz also includes a giveaway for a $25 Amazon Gift Card, International, courtesy of Alex and Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.
Four elite fae warriors. One mortal female. A magical bond they can’t allow—or resist.
Orphaned and sold to a harsh master, Lera’s life is about mucking stalls, avoiding her master’s advances, and steering clear of the mystical forest separating the mortal and fae worlds. Only fools venture into the immortal realms, and only dark rumors come out… Until four powerful fae warriors appear at Lera’s barn.
River, Coal, Tye, and Shade have waited a decade for their new fifth to be chosen, the wounds from their quint brother’s loss still raw. But the magic has played a cruel trick, bonding the four immortal warriors to… a female. A mortal female.
Distractingly beautiful and dangerously frail, Lera can only be one thing—a mistake. Yet as the males bring Lera back to the fae lands to sever the bond, they discover that she holds more power over their souls than is safe for anyone… especially for Lera herself. Power of Five is a full-length reverse-harem fantasy novel.
Check out the Excerpt:
Shade’s neck bobs and he catches my wrist, the few inches of air between us suddenly thick. Crackling. His mouth opens slightly, the elongated canines near and sharp and glistening with danger. My chest tightens, my breath suddenly gone from my lungs.
“You . . . have long lashes,” I say, leaning closer. “Girls would kill for those.”
“I have many long things,” Shade breathes, his hand cupping the back of my head, tangling in my hair. “Patience, it seems, is not one of them.”
I open my lips to respond, only to find Shade’s mouth covering mine, his lips soft and warm enough to heat a whole palace. My own mouth yields in answer, and Shade’s kiss deepens, the hand in my hair tightening until my whole scalp tingles. Sings. Stars.
Shade pulls away slowly, his canines gently scraping my lower lip as I moan softly into him.
My heart pounds, the warmth between my legs a downright flame, and I try to catch my breath. “Did you plan that?” I demand.
Shade grins, makes a noncommittal sound, and turns back into his wolf, demonstratively making a circle on my bed before curling up with his tail over his nose. His body manages to press against my back, his rhythmic breathing soothing and steady.
“Why do you do that?” I ask when I can speak again. “Stay in your wolf form so much?”
No answer.
“Being a wolf to avoid talking to me while lounging around on my bedding is a dirty, cowardly trick.”
Shade snorts, buries his head deeper beneath his paws, and settles into a calm sleep punctuated by soft snores that turn into whimpers when I shift out of reach. Frowning, I move closer, resting my hand on the sleeping wolf’s flank. The whimpering stops, the rhythmic rise of his chest and his twitching eyelids speaking of a dream-filled slumber.
~~~~~
About Alex:
Alex Lidell is the Amazon Breakout Novel Awards finalist author of THE CADET OF TILDOR (Penguin, 2013). She is an avid horseback rider, a (bad) hockey player, and an ice-cream addict. Born in Russia, Alex learned English in elementary school, where a thoughtful librarian placed a copy of Tamora Pierce’s ALANNA in Alex’s hands. In addition to becoming the first English book Alex read for fun, ALANNA started Alex’s life long love for YA fantasy books. Alex is represented by Leigh Feldman of Leigh Feldman Literary. She lives in Washington, DC.
On the remnants of oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico and Dauphin Island, Joe is a typical Nob Platform teenager, except that her Mom left a year ago for a more social Platform, and her Dad sometimes forgets she exists. But she knows she wants a career in Communications, so her high school senior project “See-Saw” focuses on long-distance underwater connections. Drayton, Joe’s best friend, discovers lights moving on Land at the same time Joe picks up SOS signals with her See-Saw.
Though Land has been silent since technology was destroyed during the Moralist Revolution, Joe and Drayton discover that the Platform Planning Commission (PPC) seems to be ultimately responsible for the Bone Virus that precipitated the Revolution. They enlist the help of Flox, a debunked scientist, to take them to Land to investigate the remnants of human Land society—before the PPC can stop them. What they find on Land will forever change the course of their lives and the lives of all Platform Dwellers.
~~~~~
Enjoy this glimpse inside:
Are those—what are those?”
“This is tidal for her,” Drayton says and picks up a cake. “Twinkie. Still in the plastic from when great-grandfather brought them over from Land. She only breaks these out for special guests.”
I feel warm inside. I like Mrs. Coleman. “She’s so generous. And sweet.”
“Yep. She must have big plans. She’ll show you great-grandma’s wedding dress next. Maybe her preserved flowers coupled with the story of how she had the first Platform wedding. No officiant or Council. Just an ‘I do’ and done. It’s one of her favorite topics of conversation lately.”
Mom liked to tell stories, too. I wish I had paid more attention during our mother-daughter dates. Especially when she told me about how she met Dad and when I was born. What her grandmother had told her Land was like.
“It’s nice how she talks to you,” I say softly. Drayton hands me the Twinkie ceremoniously. “Thank you.”
“You do have good manners, Joe,” Drayton says and opens his Twinkie. He holds it like a glass and toasts. “To the power of preservatives.”
I open mine carefully. It smells sweet and ripe, like some of the flowering vegetable plants that Lisette grows. I put a small bite in my mouth, and I revel in the flavor. “Tastes like sunshine.”
Drayton finishes the last bite of his. “On a cloudless day. Come on, eat up. It’s almost time.”
I shake my head and take another small bite. “I want to enjoy this. Savor each bite. I don’t have these every day.”
“Neither do I. But what’s the point in drawing the pleasure out? It’s there, then it’s gone. Great while it lasts.”
“I hope that isn’t how you feel about people, Drayton.”
“Some of them.”
“Stop teasing.” I take the last bite of Twinkie and swallow it. “Delicious. Let’s go see these lights.”
~~~~~
About Author Katarina Boudreaux
Katarina Boudreaux is a writer, musician, composer, tango dancer, and teacher—a shaper of word, sound, and mind. She returned to New Orleans after circuitous journeying.
Her chapbook “Anatomy Lessons” is available from Flutter Press. Her play “Awake at 4:30” is a finalist in the 2016 Tennessee Williams Festival. Her novel “Still Tides” is a semi-finalist in the 2016 Faulkner-Wisdom competition.
“Lengard is a secret government facility for extraordinary people,” they told me.
I believed them. That was my mistake.
There isn’t anyone else in the world like me.
I’m different. I’m an anomaly. I’m a monster.
For two years, six months, fourteen days, eleven hours and sixteen minutes, Subject Six-Eight-Four — ‘Jane Doe’ — has been locked away and experimented on, without uttering a single word.
As Jane’s resolve begins to crack under the influence of her new — and unexpectedly kind — evaluator, she uncovers the truth about Lengard’s mysterious ‘program’, discovering that her own secret is at the heart of a sinister plot … and one wrong move, one wrong word, could change the world.
Check out the Prologue:
They call me “Jane Doe.”
They say it’s because I won’t tell them my real name, that they were forced to allocate me a generic ID. The name is ironic, since there’s nothing generic about me.
But they don’t know that.
They could have given me any name, but there’s a reason they chose “Jane Doe.” I hear the whispers. They think of me as little more than an unidentifiable, breathing corpse. That’s how they treat me. They prod, they poke, they badger and tweak. All of them want to coax a response from me. But their efforts are in vain.
Two years, six months, fourteen days, eleven hours and sixteen minutes. That’s how long I’ve been locked away from the world. That’s how long I’ve been pried for information, day in, day out. That’s how long I’ve been experimented on, hour after hour, week after week.
They don’t tell me much. It’s all confidential, highly classified. But they did give me the rundown when I first arrived. They prettied it up and wrapped a bow around their words, selling a dream and not the nightmare I’ve been living. They said all the right things, lulling me into a false sense of security. But it was all lies.
“Lengard is a secret government facility for extraordinary people,” they told me. “It’s for people just like you.”
I believed them. That was my mistake.
I was stupid.
Gullible.
Hopeful.
I know now that there isn’t anyone else in the world just like me.
I’m different.
I’m an anomaly.
I’m a monster.
My name is not “Jane Doe.” But that is who I’ve become. And that is who I’ll remain. It’s safest this way.
For everyone.
~~~~~
Author Lynette Noni
Lynette Noni studied journalism and academic writing at university before completing a degree in human behavior. She lives on the Sunshine Coast in Australia and can be found baking cupcakes, singing along to animated movies, or daydreaming about being swept away to a fantasy world. Some days, she can even do all three at once — and still find the time to sneak in a nap afterwards.
Title: DOMINION: FIRE AND ICE Author: D.A. Hewitt Publisher: Double Dragon eBooks Pages: 372 Genre: Science Fiction
My Review
I couldn’t resist the idea. An orbiting space resort. I’d sure buy a ticket.
Two big corporations are in a race to commercialize space. And the first space resort is about to become reality. You know they aren’t going to play nice. Oh, and did I forget to mention that there’s an asteroid headed right for Earth and the Pope needs rescuing? These new Jungi Knights are in a race against time.
This book has all the ear marks of an exciting space race. However, I had a hard time with the character’s. I just couldn’t connect with them. Especially the two main protagonists. They felt more like teenagers than grown up men and women.
I did enjoy how the rescue squad was trained in the Jungi discipline. Mind over matter and all that. I believe a quiet mind is the best for any situation and it was fun to read how they all came to accept that idea.
The authors world is vast and complex. I used my imagination from all of the science fiction movies I’ve watched and got a pretty good picture of it. I envisioned all of the complications that you’d run into on a daily basis, and do believe we will eventually colonize the moon and people will travel in space.
To really enjoy science fiction, I feel you need to suspend your disbelief and set your imagination free. Hitch a ride and enjoy the trip.
4 Stars
~~~~~
Synopsis
It’s the year 2075. Lunar mining and processing facilities have prospered near the lunar south pole, where the Moon’s largest city, Valhalla, rests on the rim of the Shackleton Crater.
Dominion Off-Earth Resources has beaten the competition into space and is ready to establish its monopoly with the opening of the orbiting space resort Dominion. But Pettit Space Industries has a secret plan to emerge as a major contender in the commercialization of space. The upstart company is training the first space rescue squad at a secluded off-grid site in Barrow, Alaska.
The rescue squad gets nearly more than it can handle when its first mission involves the Pope, who’s traveling to the Moon to establish the Lunar See. During the rescue attempt, they discover Earth is imperiled by an asteroid large enough to cause mass extinction. Using the unique skills taught during their training, skills emphasized by the great psychoanalyst Carl Jung, these Jungi Knights must elevate their game if they are to save both the Earth and the Pope—while not getting killed in the process.
The girl shook her head impatiently, the ponytail swaying back and forth. “You don’t recognize me?” she asked.
I looked closer. “I’m not up on the latest supermodel scene,” I told her, “and I haven’t seen many movies lately.”
“Supermodel? Movies? What on Earth are you talking about?”
“You seem to think I should recognize you. I assume you’re a model or an actress, someone who would be easily recognized.”
She whispered something under her breath, and having a modest ability to read lips, thought she’d said, What an idiot. “I’m Jessica Thibideau.”
I thought Julia was going to leap out of her chair and try to strangle the girl. I reached over and laid my hand on her forearm with as much reassurance as I could muster.
Julia reached over, grabbed the back of my neck, pulled my head down, leaned in, and whispered, “She runs the science departments in DOER’s space program. She’s the daughter of Benjamin Thibideau.”
“Oh,” I whispered. “Yes, of course I’ve heard of her. Never seen a picture, though. Why would she assume I’d recognize her?”
“Even in the Ural Mountains, I’ve seen news pics of the famous Jessica Thibideau. Her spaceship designs incorporate integrated shielding generators. She’s responsible for the explosion of industry in space.”
“And on the Moon,” I added. “Maybe I have seen her picture. She looks different in person.”
Jessica Thibideau began tapping her toe. “If you don’t mind, I have things to do.” She waved her arm in a wide sweeping movement. “And in case you haven’t noticed, we have a problem here.”
I began straightening myself but Julia grabbed my wrist. “Be careful,” she whispered. “Her company practically buried yours. Some say the stress is what killed your father.”
“Yeah, well, my dad worked too hard.”
I pulled away and straightened myself in my chair and folded my hands in front of me on the table. “Are you referring to the street music?”
She snorted. “Of course. What are you, some kind of joker?”
“Just trying to communicate.”
She reached up and pinched her nose, equalizing pressure. “You stole my asteroid retrieval drone.”
My reaction caught me by surprise. I jerked back as though jolted by a cattle prod such was my surprise at being accused of something so off my radar that she may very well have accused me of being an alien in disguise. “What?” I managed to eke out.
“You must’ve sanctioned it, at least. There are only two players in space—DOER and PSI. And DOER wouldn’t steal from itself.”
“Are you accusing me of something?”
“A DOER asteroid interceptor-collector drone has gone missing. Not only that, a dummy drone was left in its place to camouflage the theft. Now tell me, Mr. Pettit, how many companies have the capacity to handle what an interceptor-collector drone can deliver?”
I held up two fingers, eyebrows raised with uncertainty.
She stared as though trying to melt me with her glare. After a few moments, she made a sound that resembled harrumph and placed her hands on her hips. “Anibal Sanchez is your stooge, right?”
She throws out big tomatoes and observes your reaction.
I realized that this woman believed she possessed the skill to discern changes in blood pressure, eye dilation, and other change indicators that revealed when a person was lying.
Interesting.
“Never heard the name before,” I told her. “And now that I’ve answered your question, Miss Thibideau, I’ll tell you that you’re in no position to judge me. You don’t know me, and I doubt you have the depth of field to see clear enough for me to even want to have a conversation with you.”
“We all make judgments constantly,” she shot back. “You’re judging me right now.”
“You’re the one who barged in on us.”
She took a step to her left, then to her right. She placed her hand on her chin, opened her mouth, then finger-tapped the side of her head. She looked like a frenzied shopper who’d lost her shopping list and was trying to recall each item in the order in which they appeared.
She reached up and pinched her nose. Instead of finding it annoying, I found myself attracted to it.
Here, let me help …
Finally she stopped fidgeting and looked at me. “Mr. Pettit, allow me to apologize, please. I just got back from Valhalla, and I’ve got a bit of the jitters. I’m jumping at conclusions.”
“I hear jitters can be a common problem for space-goers,” I said. I reached over and nudged a chair away from the table. “Have a seat.”
Julia jabbed me with her elbow. I leaned over and whispered, “Let’s see how much information we can get.” Then I kissed her neck and this seemed to appease her.
Jessica Thibideau glanced back at her sedan. “All right. I am starving.” She sat and whispered a command that brought up a translucent eight-panel octagonal grid interface that encircled her.
Impressive. But where’s the projector? An implant? No—more likely embedded in clothing.
Signorina Thibideau twirled her finger and jabbed at one of the displays on the panel to her left. She glanced at me. “How’s the pizza here?”
“Out of this world,” I said, trying to suppress the corner of my mouth from rising slightly. I failed.
Jessica closed her eyes, sighed, then placed her order.
Julia leaned in and whispered, “She seems flighty to me.”
“Jitters is typically temporary.”
“Permanent jitters, in her case, if you ask me,” Julia commented.
~~~~~
About Author D.A. Hewitt
D.A. Hewitt is an award-winning author of four novels and over a hundred short stories. One novel was awarded a gold medal from the Independent Publishers Book Awards for best regional fiction. He attributes his success to hard work, honing a skill and providing an outlet for his passion for writing.
Born in Michigan, he lived for 25 years in North Carolina before returning to live in his home state. In addition to enjoying sky diving and mountain climbing, he is a proud veteran of the US Marine Corps and has earned a degree in mathematics.
Mr. Hewitt admits to a fascination with the work of Carl Jung and of the Gnostic religion. He’d always thought intertwining these topics in a science fiction novel was a stretch, but one day the storyline of Dominion came to him. He wrote the novel in a stream of consciousness. “It makes sense, tapping into the collective unconscious,” Mr. Hewitt says, “very much like Carl Jung might have predicted.”
Welcome to the tour for Child’s Play by Merry Jones February 1 – 28th.
I’m thrilled to share an excerpt from the book.
And there’s a giveaway. So don’t forget to enter!
Alsp, be sure to click on the link at the bottom of the post to follow the tour for more fun posts!
Child’s Play
by Merry Jones
Genre: Thriller, Suspense Published by: Oceanview Publishing Publication Date: January 3rd 2017 Number of Pages: 320 ISBN: 1608091910 (ISBN13: 9781608091911) Series: Elle Harrison Thriller #3 (Each can be read as a Stand Alone Novel)
Synopsis
Since her husband’s murder two years earlier, life hasn’t been easy for Elle Harrison. Now, at the start of a new school year, the second grade teacher is determined to move on. She’s selling her house and delving into new experiences―like learning trapeze.
Just before the first day of school, Elle learns that a former student, Ty Evans, has been released from juvenile detention where he served time for killing his abusive father. Within days of his release, Elle’s school principal, who’d tormented Ty as a child, is brutally murdered. So is a teacher at the school. And Ty’s former girlfriend. All the victims have links to Ty.
Ty’s younger brother, Seth, is in Elle’s class. When Seth shows up at school beaten and bruised, Elle reports the abuse, and authorities remove Seth and his older sister, Katie, from their home. Is Ty the abuser?
Ty seeks Elle out, confiding that she’s the only adult he’s ever trusted. She tries to be open-minded, even wonders if he’s been wrongly condemned. But when she’s assaulted in the night, she suspects that Ty is her attacker. Is he a serial killer? Is she his next intended victim?
Before Elle discovers the truth, she’s caught in a deadly trap that challenges her deepest convictions about guilt and innocence, childhood and family. Pushed to her limits, she’s forced to face her fears and apply new skills in a deadly fight to survive.
The parking lot was empty, except for Stan’s pickup truck. Stan was the custodian, tall, hair thinning, face pock-marked from long ago acne. He moved silently, popped out of closets and appeared in corners, prowled the halls armed with a mop or a broom. In fourteen years, I couldn’t remember a single time when he’d looked me in the eye.
Wait—fourteen years? I’d been there that long? Faces of kids I’d taught swirled through my head. The oldest of them would now be, what? Twenty-one? Oh man. Soon I’d be one of those old school marms teaching the kids of my former students, a permanent fixture of the school like the faded picture of George Washington mounted outside the principal’s office. Hell, in a few months, I’d be forty. A middle-aged childless widow who taught second grade over and over again, year after year, repeating the cycle like a hamster on its wheel. Which reminded me: I had to pick up new hamsters. Tragically, last year’s hadn’t made it through the summer.
I told myself to stop dawdling. I had a classroom to organize, cubbies to decorate. On Monday, just three days from now, twenty-three glowing faces would show up for the first day of school, and I had to be ready. I climbed out of the car, pulled a box of supplies from the trunk, started for the building. And stopped.
My heart did triple time, as if responding to danger. But there was no danger. What alarmed me, what sent my heart racing was the school itself. But why? Did it look different? Had the windows been replaced, or the doors? Nothing looked new, but something seemed altered. Off balance. The place didn’t look like an elementary school. It looked like a giant factory. A prison.
God, no. It didn’t look like any of those things. The school was the same as it had always been, just a big brick building. It seemed cold and stark simply because it was unadorned by throngs of children. Except for wifi, Logan Elementary hadn’t changed in fifty years, unless you counted several new layers of soot on the bricks.
I stood in the parking lot, observing the school, seeing it fresh. I’d never paid much attention to it before. When it was filled with students, the building itself became all but invisible, just a structure, a backdrop. But now, empty, it was unable to hide behind the children, the smells of sunshine and peanut butter sandwiches, the sounds of chatter and small shoes pounding Stanley’s waxed tiles. The building stood exposed. I watched it, felt it watching me back. Threatening.
Seriously, what was wrong with me? The school was neither watching nor threatening me. It was a benign pile of bricks and steel. I was wasting time, needed to go in and get to work. But I didn’t take a single step. Go on, I told myself. What was I afraid of? Empty halls, vacant rooms? Blank walls? For a long moment, I stood motionless, eyes fixed on the façade. The carved letters: Logan School. The heavy double doors. The dark windows. Maybe I’d wait a while before going inside. Becky would arrive soon, after she picked up her classroom aquarium.
Other teachers would show up, too. I could go in with them, blend safely into their commotion. I hefted the box, turned back to the car. But no, what was I doing? I didn’t want to wait. I’d come early so I could get work done without interruption or distraction before the others arrived. The school wasn’t daring me, nor was I sensing some impending tragedy. I was just jittery about starting a new year.
I turned around again, faced its faded brown bricks. I steeled my shoulders, took a breath and started across the parking lot. With a reverberating metallic clank, the main doors flew open. Reflexively, I stepped back, half expecting a burst of flames or gunfire. Instead, Stan emerged. For the first time in fourteen years, I was glad to see him. Stan surveyed the parking lot, hitched up his pants. Looked in my direction. He didn’t wave or nod a greeting, didn’t follow social conventions. Even so, his presence grounded me, felt familiar.
I took a breath, reminded myself that the school was just a school. That I was prone to mental wandering and embellishing. And that children would stream into my classroom in just three days, whether I was ready or not.
~~~~~
Meet Author Merry Jones
.
Merry Jones is the author of some twenty critically acclaimed books, both fiction and nonfiction. Her work has been translated into seven languages. Her previous Elle Harrison novels have been The Trouble With Charlie and Elective Procedures. Jones lives with her husband in Philadelphia.
