Katharina Gerlach's Blog, page 6

New Release plusStorytime Bloghop April (free fiction)

I’ve done it, I’ve published the first short story collection of the six I’ve planned for this year. This one is all about portals. If you like the idea of stepping into another world through a door or something similar, you might like this little collection.

Below the information about the release, you’ll also find a free flash fiction story about a pretty confused old lady that I wrote for the Storytime Bloghop. I hope you’ll like it. But the release first:

 

Doors are useful. Close them to keep people out. Open them to let someone in. Or step through … into another world.

His music condemns a young musician to death on a pyre.

Katlani’s plans of revenge crumble around her when her goddess interferes.

To save her father, a young woman must face the danger of doors that take her anywhere.

A disabled phoenix must rekindle his flames or die forever.

To save herself and those she loves from death for being different, a young woman must find the City of Many Worlds.

A bereaved tyrant faces loneliness if he doesn’t atone for his actions.

In these six portal stories, Katharina shows people at a crossroads. Their actions lead them to a literal or fictional door where they’re faced with an impossible choice.

available on Amazon (eBook and print) and other retailers (eBook only)

 

But now to the free flash story I promised you. We hold the Storytime Bloghop quarterly, and all stories are free. I hope you’ll like mine, and as always, remember to visit the other participants (list below the story).

Family Reunion

The day faded and night fell. With the moon absent, it was so dark in the house, Jane couldn’t see where she was. All she had was a sense of space and age. Dust motes hung in the air, she could smell them more than see them.

The whole world seemed like that, slightly off. When she tried to look out of one of the windows, the curtains wouldn’t budge until she used all her strength. And when she went to the kitchen to fry some eggs, the sink under the window contained different dishes every time. As if someone put them there when she didn’t look.

Was there a ghost in the house? She remembered her gran—ages ago when Jane was still young—telling her stories in hushed tones about the young, handsome laird who’d been killed in this house and who’d come back to haunt it.

Jane shook her head. There were no ghosts. And if she was wrong and and the laird did exist, she would have noticed him by now, wouldn’t she? After all, she’d lived here for sixty five years; ever since her marriage.

She made her way to the living room by touch. One of those big, modern TVs hung at the wall. She didn’t remember buying it, but since it was there, she might as well use it. The living room smelled of stale beer, and she wrinkled her nose. Was someone trying to annoy her? But who?

She had no lodgers, even though Katie had often suggested she’d get some. Maybe her daughter was right. After all, the house was rather big for a single person.

But she didn’t feel ready to give up the life she’d known for so many years. The memory of Todd’s death still brought tears to her eyes. The clingy wetness tasted of salt and reminded her of the many times they’d taken their daughter to the sea. Those were the days … She sighed and there was a good portion of longing in the sound.

If only her day-night-rhythm would improve. The pills she was using didn’t seem to help. She still fell asleep at sunrise and lost most of the day to weird dreams before waking at nightfall. If she could reverse that, she wouldn’t depend on Katie so much.

Poor child. She walked to the fireplace and looked at Katie’s graduation photo. How the child had grown. Jane frowned. She really had to talk to the cleaning lady. She didn’t pay her for cobwebs and layers of dust.

The old-fashioned grandfather clock from the hall chimed melodically. Jane loved the clock. It had been a wedding present from her parents. She counted the beats automatically.

Nine, ten, eleven … twelve. Midday! A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Todd would come home any minute now. She had to prepare his lunch.

With a spring in her step, she hurried into the kitchen—was it winter already? It was so dark—grabbed a pan, a bottle of oil, and eggs, set everything on the table, and turned on the gas.

Someone gasped audibly.

“See, I told you.” Even though the person was whispering, Jane knew the voice.

She put her arms akimbo. “Katie Joanna Lou Hawkins. Come out wherever you’re hiding. That is not polite, and it might scare your father to death. You know how bad his heart has been lately.”

Katie stood up on the other side of the kitchen table, barely illuminated by what little light from the streetlamp in front of the house the curtains admitted. A slender youth that looked just like Todd when he was still young clung to her arm, and a dark haired young woman was half hiding behind her.

Jane frowned. There were streaks of gray in her daughter’s brown curls. But … but … she’d only graduated from university a few weeks ago, hadn’t she? And who were those teenagers?

“Mom?” Katie’s eyes were bigger than Jane had ever seen them.

Her poor baby. Still as afraid as a rabbit. “Oh, hon. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She smiled reassuringly and opened her arms wide for a hug.

“But you’re…” Katie and the teenagers took a step back. All three grew very pale when Jane followed. Their gazes clung to Jane’s midriff. Jane looked down, and paled too. She was standing right in the middle of the kitchen table. How did she do that?

But she knew.

Everything came crashing back. The short, sharp pain in her chest, Katie’s and her grandchildren’s crying, the overbearing scent of white lilies, and the fact that she’d been standing beside her body, watching the mourners carry it away after the wake.

Heavy boots clonked on the stone floor of the small rear hallway. Katie and the teenagers grew even paler and moved out of the way of the door. It swung open with vigor Jane knew only too well.

“Darling!” Todd opened his arms wide. He was so strong, his shoulders so wide, and the scent of tobacco and leather so intense, she nearly cried for joy. And his voice … his voice still made happy little shivers dance down her spine. “I’ve been looking for you ever since you died.”

“I think, I was a little lost,” Jane said and threw herself into his arms. Gone were the years, the gaps in her memory, and the pounds she’d gained throughout life. She felt young again.

She never heard the grandfather clock strike one.

 

If you liked the story or would comment with anything else that’s on your mind, feel free to do so. I’ll answer as soon as I can. Meanwhile read the stories of the other participants:

Better Off Alone by VS Stark

A Day In The Life by James Husum

Nothing To Show by Elizabeth McCleary

Super Grammy (Radioactive Breakfast Cereal) by Vanessa Wells

Bone Killer by Juneta Key

One More Time by Karen Lynn

Trail Of Carnage by Jemma Weir

A Phoenix In Hell by Sabrina Rosen

Friends Of The Deep by G. Craddock

Collateral Damage by Nic Steven

A Ghost’s Life by Barbara Lund

A Startling Revelation by Bill Bush

A Hiding Place by Gina Fabio

 

Themed Month March:Selfpublisher Power

I swapped the order of themes around. This topic was meant for June, but I moved it up front because it’s connected to a few announcements I have to make. The next two themes from the initial post have been moved one month back. In July we’ll be back on schedule.

As you might have gleamed from my blog, I haven’t been very active the last year. That was mostly due to health related stuff. What irked me the most was that I could barely write. So I’ve decided to change something about that situation.

I actually made a publishing schedule (yes, unorganized me!) with one book a month for at least one year (print and eBook, mostly in English. The German versions will follow whenever I get the translations done). The reason is that I signed up for a yearly challenge that “forces” me to publish one book per month for a whole year. Since I signed up on March 19th, you’ll get the first book before April 19th. The stories all exist already, so I’m free to write new novels and novellas as well as translate the stories into German that I haven’t had the time for yet.

Next month, I’ll be publishing the book that’s closest to my heart (it also fits next month’s theme: a book of my heart), a first reader book with many pictures. It’s already out in German but I’ve not taken the time to do the English version yet. So that one’s up next.

Then I’m planning to reissue my two historical novels with bigger and better appendices, bundle my fairy tale retellings into box-sets of 4 novellas each, and publish six short story collections. Except for one, they’ll contain mostly new fiction. The order in which these books appear isn’t completely fixed yet. I’ll let you know in advance each month when I report about the newest publication.

And finally, on April 29th, it’s time for the quarterly Storytime Bloghop again. This year, I’ve written a whole new story. Come by and let me know how you like it. Until then, buy my books (I hardly ever say that, don’t I? But the readers I’ve talked to said they’re good. So they might help you get through this social distancing time). *grin*

Information about my current WIP:

The first volume of my new series “The Paladins” only grows slowly. Since my grandson is at home for the whole day now, my writing time is less than half of what it was (from 5:30am to 7:15 or 7:30am instead of 8:00 to 12am). But it#s so much fun to have the two main characters interact since the healer is a slightly naive do-gooder and less than pleased with Death.

Themed Month March:My Book Boy-/Girlfriend

Strangely enough, the bookfriends I had were all from other people’s books. Among my favorites were Anne of Green Gables, Atreju from the “Neverending Story”, and Death from the graphic novels “Sandman” by Neil Gaiman. These days it’s “Boris and Olga” from a so named Steampunk-series by German author Selma J. Spieweg. There were many more since I’ve read thousands of books (two thousand of those are in my personal library), and most of them are still dear to my heart today.

The interesting fact about this is that aspects of them bleed into my own stories. That is not a conscious process and it’s not a copyright infringement if you’re worrying about that. What happens is that some aspects of the dear friends I used to have in books merge with aspects of people I know in real life (strangers, friends, and family) to become something new, someone new, someone who might one day become the bookfriend of another reader.

And that is the true power of stories, and something I find really, really cool!

#faktastischermaerz #faktastisches2020 #faktastischdurchdasjahr #wirsindfaktastisch

Information about my current WIP:

The first novel in the new series I’m planning to write under my new pseudonym is thoroughly planned and the first few scenes are written. In the fist volume of “The Paladins” a dedicated healer, determined to eradicate death, falls for the Paladin of Death.

 

Bloghop

Yes, it’s that time of the year again, the next bloghop is due. This time we’ve got a new (and much nicer, don’t you think?) logo, made by Juneta Key one of the bloghop’s regular authors. For the longest time I didn’t know what to write about until a few days back, I realized that not everybody wakes quite the same way as I do. Naturally, the names of the kids are all made up (to protect their privacy), and I also used a time when they were a lot smaller, but essentially, this is how I get up every morning. I hope you enjoy the story.

A Writer’s Morning

I pull the cover over my head, but it’s suffocating me and it doesn’t shut out the five thirty alarm anyway. I wish I could stay in bed.

“Now, if you take me to the Gruesome Waste, I could be truly heroic. Let me explain,” the main character of my current project says.

Not now, I think. Grumbling, I climb out of bed and use the bathroom. My blood pressure is under the roof already without even listening to the kids’ banter downstairs. How can anyone be so lively this early in the morning? I can’t even muster the necessary strength to remind them to be quiet. I shuffle to the kitchen, prepare coffee for the husband, set the table for those energetic enough to eat, and spread four double slices of bread with butter and anything that’s fresh form the fridge. So far, my packed lunch hasn’t killed anyone – yet.

“Woojee, woojee.” My youngest hugs me. He smells of chocolate and leaves brown stripes on my nighty. “I’m an ambulance.”

“Ambulance,” says my love interest. “Now that’s an idea!”

Not yet! I groan, trying not to be heard by Joey.

“I’m not hungry. Elly made me a toast.” Joey one hugs me again and races off, wailing worse than before. Did I miss a day? Is it a weekend? I gaze at the calendar – no, it’s Wednesday. I’m not wrong. Thanks for that.

“You need to get dressed for school,” The words fall like stones from my mouth. Joey speeds out of the room toward the bath, overtaking Elly on the way. “Me first!”

“Oh, I wish we could have bathrooms,” the antagonist says. “Couldn’t that be my motivation? Bathrooms for all?”

“Not yet!” The tiredness slowly gives way to annoyance.

“How about something to drink?” My husband’s soft voice sounds angelic, calming me instantly. He fills a glass with coffee and milk and puts it beside my plate. A writer’s life juice. I drain it while I stuff lunch boxes into schoolbags and my husband’s briefcase. On the way out, he plants a kiss on my nose that was aimed at my mouth. I stand beside the door like a blade of grass swaying gently. Elly passes me with Joey at her hand. She smiles.

“Will you pick me up in time for swimming?”

“Swimming!” My main character positively beams. “How about me having to find a way through the Gruesome Waste and the only option I seem to have is swimming?”

“Not now.”

“Mom?” Elly’s eyebrows rise.

“Sorry, hon. Of course I’ll be there in time.” I smile back and wave until my tow favorite non-adults vanish around a bent in the road just a few paces from the bus stop. Then, I wait until the bus rounds the corner and wave again. When the dust cloud settles, I turn to get dressed.

“Any ideas welcome,” I say to the characters of my WIP. They remain silent.

Jacko, our dog gets up and stretches. When he was younger, he used to get up with me, excitedly jumping around hoping for a long walk. These days he knows me better.

“Well, what was that about the Gruesome Waste?”

Silence. I look at Jacko. His tail starts wagging when I put on my shoes.

“Well, old boy. Another day, another chance, right?” I breathe the air outside. The freshness of the spring morning will get me going. It always does. And usually, it makes the voices in my head come back.

As I jog into the morning, the voices slowly return, filled with nightly discoveries and fresh ideas that need to be evaluated. All the characters clamor for attention. The dog is happy, and so am I. Soon, I’ll be able to write again. Who said that being an early riser was easy?

______________________________-

I hope you liked this story. If you did, check out my books. Also, have a look at these wonderful stories by my fellow writers:

Unverified, by Erica Damon

Tito’s to the Max, by Chris Makowski

The Boon, by Juneta Key

Sanctuary, by Elizabeth McCleary

Till Death Us, by Fanni Sütő

The Cloud, by Karen Lynn

Data Corruption, by Barbara Lund

Wish Granted, by Kami Bataya

The Witch of Wall Street, by J. Q. Rose

Grim Reapers on a Field Trip, byJ Lenni Dorner

Unwelcome Vistors, by Bill Bush

I’m sorry

Since my grandson arrived, I am lacking time. My household looks like a bomb exploded(with mountains of laundry, but at least the dishes are clean … three cheers for the dishwasher), my stories grow at a snail’s pace, and my Blog and Facebook page are neglected. Then, my middle daughter (my grandson’s mother) had to go into hospital for 2 weeks and soon, my eldest will have to go there for an operation … that means it won’t get better any time soon. I hope you don’t mind. I am working on the next publication, a middle grade monster story. If nothing unexpected happens, I’ll get it done in time for Halloween.

Storytime Bloghop: Surprise

It is already time again for the quarterly Blog Hop. My, how time flies! My grandson has started to crawl, still on his belly, and two teeth are already out. Slowly my days are finding a new rhythm, so I’m writing again. I hope you’ll enjoy this snippet which is based very, very loosely on my experience of becoming a grandmother rather unexpectedly. As usual, you’ll find the links to the other participants below my story.

Surprise

“Well, you could come in today but only the male doctor will be there,” the gynecologist’s receptionist said. I knew that wouldn’t do. My daughter would never see a man – not when it was her first visit to a gynecologist. I told the receptionist, just as I had told her about the low but persistent abdominal pain Shelly was experiencing. It wasn’t urgent but it definitely needed someone looking at it.

“Well Dr. Paulsen won’t be in before tomorrow. I’ve got a free slot at 9am.”

I smiled and sent a sliver of pleasurable magic through the phone for the woman. “That’s splendid. We’ll be there on time.”

***

The next morning, my daughter – a little grumpy from getting up this early – and I climbed the two floors to the gynecologist. After the usual paperwork, the receptionist left us in a room with a desk and the gynecological chair. Her smile was meant to be reassuring. “The doctor will be with you in a few minutes.”

Shelly looked at me with a frown. “I won’t sit on that one.” She nodded to the chair.

Before I could answer, the doctor came in. She was a petite woman with brown hair, a white lab coat and tired eyes. “Welcome.” She shook our hands and smiled at my daughter. “It looks as if it’s coming soon. Who’s your regular gynecologist?”

My jaw dropped and for the first time in a long, long while I didn’t know what to say. My daughter’s face must have mirrored my surprise because the doctor said, “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

There was no answer to that, but my daughter was too shocked to make a fuss when the doctor examined her. I didn’t even need my magic to soothe her.

“Dear me.” Dr. Paulsen’s eyes widened. “It’s coming right now!” She nearly fled the room to call an ambulance.

While we waited, Shelly’s contractions intensified. She moaned with pain, and my heart hurt in sympathy. At least I now knew her sudden gain in weight hadn’t been due to obsessive eating or cancer or any of the other diseases I had feared. Still, I suffered with her every time the contractions hit. She squeezed my hand as if she meant to crush every single bone to pulp, and it took all my strength not to use a calming spell on her. According to my own mother that would interfere with the baby’s own magic should it have some.

The ambulance took its time and even my spell couldn’t make it faster. All I could do was prevent the gynecologist from panicking. Waves of soothing magic flowed through the rooms, arduously avoiding Shelly. But once the ambulance arrived, everything went fast. Shelly was carried downstairs on a stretcher, and I followed with knees too shaky to manage the stairs without clinging to the handrail. The ambulance headed to the nearby motorway with flashing lights and siren, while my daughter screamed in pain, still clinging to my hand. I tried to make myself as small as possible to not obstruct the doctor and his helpers. The baby arrived soundlessly three minutes before we reached the hospital.

“That doesn’t look good.” The doctor’s face was grim as he cut the cord. My heart seemed to stop beating. I barely dared to look at the rather bluish looking limp body in his hands. “Oxygen. And a tenth of a unit …”

I ignored the doctor’s gobbledygook and concentrated on my daughter. I closed my hands around her wide eyed face. Finally I could help. My magic tugged at her worry, smoothing it out and adding a little hope here and there. “Keep breathing. There’s nothing we can do but hope.” We closed our eyes and ignored the clattering of instruments and the babbling of the paramedic. If we lost the baby, I’d probably never be able to create a bubble of hope again. So we clung to our own little bubble. It was all I could do to keep it up. Shelly’s heart beat the same fearful-hopeful rhythm as mine.

The ambulance screeched to a stop.

“We’ve got her!” The relief in the doctor’s voice was palatable. Very gently he placed the wrapped baby into Shelly’s arms. A content, pink face with the bluest eyes anyone had ever seen stared at us, and a wave of happiness hit me. The baby was magical, and breathing, and moving her tiny fingers, already weaving her spell on us. As I hobbled after the stretcher that was wheeled to a lift, my smile couldn’t have been wider. I whispered to my daughter, “I guess it’s time to think about a name for her.”

___________________________________________

The other stories:

In A Picture by Erica Damon

The Past Tastes Better by Karen Lynn

Revealing Space by Barbara Lund

The Rose Tender by Raven O’Fiernan

The Last Sleeping Beauty by Tamara Ruth

Freeman by Elizabeth McCleary

Hell’s Play by Juneta Key

The Token by Eli Winfield

To The Moon And Beyond, by Fanni Sütő

Storytime Bloghop: The Day I was Clever

It’s time again for the quarterly Storytime Bloghop. This time I did something a little different. Easter, my brothers (I’ve got three) and I were fooling around with a new gadget one of them had gotten. We took some really crazy pictures. So I included one of those at the end of the story. Since it is the punchline, you might want to not look at it until you read the story first.

What I learned from Leipzig Bookfair 2017

First and most important, do not try to walk through the halls on Saturday (that is a lesson learned during several bookfairs in Leipzig that I visited). On Saturday, everybody and their family will come, so the corridors are stuffed. If you can, Thursday or Sunday are actually the best days to visit.

Leipzig Bookfair is something special. With the addition of the Maga-Comic-Con (with the Cosplayers) and the used-books-fair, it’s also pretty full. However, it’s the best place to actually meet readers. That’s why I come back with the Qindies (Quality Indies) every year for as long as we manage to fund a booth. This year was more successful than any of the years before, and I expect next year to be even better.

Also “Leipzig liest” (Leipzig is reading), the author reading platform of the fair, is a great way to find new readers and fans. Most venues are an absolute pleasure to work with. A car seller decorated his showroom with graves, a hanging skeleton and spooky atmosphere furniture to make our reading an event his customers (and we) are likely to remember.

If you want to go to a German bookfair, Leipzig is the place to go. True, Frankfurt is much bigger but it’s also a lot less personal. I’ll be posting some impressions of the fair in the next days.

And a final thing if you are visiting a bookfair as a vendor (author): Make sure every promo material item does exactly what is is supposed to do. I glitched when I created giveaway cards for an eBook and only discovered after the bookfair that the link I included on the card wasn’t activated. It made me look like an idiot (which I probably am from time to time

Storytime Bloghop — New Stork Inc.

“Don’t you miss work?” I asked Melinda.

“I like living here with you alone.” My daughter set aside another darned sock. “Not to forget that the inquisition will never find us here.”

I smiled at her to show her how much I love her, but in secret I longed for something more important to do than making a living. I sighed and went back to my spinning. The regular rhythm and Melinda’s breathing relaxed me and the internal unrest subsided until the peace of our evening routine was disturbed, when something heavy thunked against the window of our little cottage. Since it was dark outside we couldn’t exactly see what it was. My fingers stopped turning the spindle, and we both held our breath, fearing the same. But there was no screaming, no pitchforks, and most of all no fire. Slightly relieved but still wary, I called. “Who’s there?”

“Sh-sh-l ivri” The voice sounded muffled, as if it held something in its mouth and was trying to talk around it. Melinda looked at me, and I looked at Melinda.

“I know someone who talks that way,” I whispered. “But this is a different voice.”

Whoever was outside the window bumped against the delicate pane that kept out the winds. If it broke, winter would send its icy fingers into our home, so I got to the door and opened. But not without stopping at the hearth and picking up the biggest knife we owned. I dropped it the minute the door swung open and revealed a roughly human sized dragon with red scales and a bundle of cloth hanging from its maw. When he saw Melinda standing behind me, he took the bundle out of his mouth and moved his jaw from side to side to loosen the muscles.

“I don’t understand why the boss insists on carrying it in my mouth,” he said and handed the bundle to her. “Special delivery for you. New Stork Inc. sends their congratulations. You’ll find a welcome bonus packed right in.”

With shaking fingers Melinda opened the bundle.

“It’s a boy,” the dragon said needlessly. “Plus a few nappies.”

Melissa’s face mirrored the shock that kept me rooted to the spot. I had to clear my throat several times before I managed to speak. “Why’s Stork sending us a baby? We never ordered one.”

“New policy.” The dragon smiled, displaying more teeth that I was currently happy with. I swallowed, and he smiled some more. “We’ve got a few remnants that need old-style distribution. Your daughter was one of the candidates the boss chose.”

“Remnants? Come in and explain.” I stepped aside. I’d been one of Stork’s helpers for as long as I remembered, learning the midwife’s trade from my mother and passing on my knowledge to Melinda. However, since the inquisition started burning midwifes as witches, we’d gone into hiding. So far successful.

The dragon curled up in front of the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the fire. He puffed a few happy smoke curls before he got to the point. “Stork lost a lot of his delivery crew when the inquisition decided stork deliveries were not real and anyone believing in it was superstitious and needed to be punished. People actually started shooting storks then, I guess because they’re hungry.” He stared into the flames for a while, and I took up my spindle again. He sighed contently. “Well, as I said, Stork lost a lot of his crew that way, so he decided to go direct with a delivery system designed to work without stork transportation. I helped him set up the system. It took quite a lot of magic to get it working properly, believe me.”

“Direct?” My mind whirred. “Stork-free delivery?”

“Well, the seeds get harvested when they’re still in single cell state, and a magical tube shoots them directly into the mother’s belly. It’s a marvel. It really is.” He preened his claws and looked smug. “And I was a major part in developing that system if I may point that out.”

How could Stork send babies straight to the mothers? Into their bellies if I hadn’t misheard. My eyes widened when I realized what that meant. “If he sends the parcel into the mother, it must come back out at some point, right?”

“Yup, and that’s why he’s inviting you to an advanced training in what he calls ‘birth’. That’s short for ‘binary inter-rump transfer holistics’, the name of the new technique. The participants of this course will have to spread the word.”

Suddenly I saw my life stretching out in front of me – always traveling, helping women through ‘birth’ and teaching Stork’s new deliver method throughout the country as best I could while evading inquisition. Ever so often I’d visit Melinda who had to stay behind to take care of her son. Suddenly, Life was exciting again.

Here are the links to the other participants of the Bloghop:

Pocket Heart by Juneta Key

Oh Baby! by J. Q. Rose

Reflected by Elizabeth McCleary

Veronica by Jessica Kruppa

Last Stop by Erica Damon

Jesse and Tyler by Bill Bush

The Poisoner of Time by Karen Lynn

curveball

Naturally we didn’t throw him, that’d be a bad idea.