A.F. Stewart's Blog, page 68

Book Spotlight: Legacy by Michelle E. Lowe

Today I have a book spotlight for you on the fantasy novel, Legacy by Michelle E. Lowe. Enjoy.


Legacy (Volume One) by Michelle E. Lowe

Indigo Peachtree has spent most of his life making toys for children. This kindly old toy-maker, however, has carried with him a secret he wishes to remain unknown. Yet as with most secrets they tend to come up to the surface over time. Tarquin Norwich, a ruthless lord, has come to learn about a journal containing everything Indigo desperately wants to protect. When the toy-maker goes underground, Tarquin seeks help from a witch, Mother of Craft, to go about finding other ways to obtain what he desires.
Mother of Craft tells him that in order to find Indigo, and his journal, he will need two outlaw brothers.
He sends his children, Archie and Clover Norwich, across the English Channel to snare the infamous outlaw, Pierce Landcross who knows the whereabouts of the journal.
Tarquin and his eldest son, Ivor, capture Pierce’s estranged brother, Joaquin Landcross, to find the missing toy-maker.
As Pierce is being pulled back to England, his dire situation flips completely around when he’s saved by a crew of Apache privateers known as the legendary Sea Warriors.
Instead of fleeing with his seabound mates, Pierce decides to return to England, taking Archie and Clover with him, to try and save his old friend, Indigo. Going back means Pierce will encounter old dangers as well as face a part of his past he would much rather leave behind.


Legacy is available at:
Amazon:  http://amzn.to/1XfZTwNiBooks: http://apple.co/1OP37ojKobo: http://bit.ly/1Gnk4VrBarnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1LGYdbZ


Here's a short excerpt from the book:

Pierce Landcross awakened in his hotel room after a day’s sleep. He had arrived just the evening before, tired and hungry. After eating at the downstairs restaurant and pub, he’d gone to his room and fallen asleep the moment he fell onto the mattress. He had stayed in the same position upon his belly until his body fully restored its restfulness. With a groan and deep yawn, Pierce rose out of bed, stretched, and went over to the washbasin. After cleaning his face and the rest of the sleep away, he looked at himself in the mirror. The room glowed with the afternoon light, giving him a clear view of the scar.
It was his daily reminder of betrayal and heartbreak. Every detail of that horrible night played out in significant fragments; the punch that brought him down, the knife, the look on the cutter’s face, the abandonment. Every time he touched the scar, he could almost feel the dull, yet jagged blade tearing across his skin.




Author Bio:
Michelle E. Lowe is the author of The Warning, Atlantic Pyramid, Cherished Thief, the action adventure/fantasy novel with the elements of steampunk, titled Legacy. Children’s books, Poe’s Haunted House Tour, and the three part adventure children’s series, The Hex Hunt. She is also a mother, wife, and painter. Her works in progress are the continuations for Legacy. Currently, she lives in Lake Forest, California.

You can find out more about Michelle and her books at her website: www.michellelowe.net 

A Fireside Chat with Gabriel Lennox

Today I have another Fireside Chat (with the debut of its new logo). Richard Dale will be interviewing the immortal, Gabriel Lennox, the main character from The Gabriel Lennox series by Monique Desir.  Enjoy...




A Fireside Chat with Gabriel Lennox
“Welcome everyone, to another Fireside Chat. I’m Richard Dale, your host. Today, our guest is the immortal being, Gabriel Lennox.” Richard nods to the man sitting opposite to him. “Welcome Mr. Lennox. Would you care to begin by telling our audience a bit about yourself.”
Gabriel reaches out his hand and gives Richard’s a firm shake. “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Dale. There’s really not much to say about my past. Sixteenth century British parents bore my twin sister and me. All dead though. There were witch hunts in those days, notorious for their cruelty. I’m the last of my mortal bloodline. I’ve lived for almost 500 years.” Gabriel silently stares at the untouched glass of wine in front of him.  “I’d rather keep the remainder of my rather maudlin background to myself and share the much more pleasant present. There’s nothing like the present, eh?”Gabriel laughs and smiles. “I’m currently the owner of a Host Club service in Florida, which caters not only to the Tampa Bay area’s ladies of the night, but to wealthy women of all shapes and sizes. I encountered these fascinating establishments while visiting Japan and just had to open one here. After all, what better way to explain a mansion full of abnormally young, beautiful, and age-defying men away to the rest of the world? I also self-publish books about the 17th century swashbuckling opera singer and bloodsucker – I added that juicy little tidbit—, Frenchwoman, Julie d'Aubigny, under the droll penname I.M. Alucard. Both the business and writing work wonders in paying the bills. After all, I have blood-children to provide for and clothe. And yet, most importantly, both keep me entertained year after year.”
“An interesting array of activities and obligations” Richard nods again, his expression rather passive. “If I might inquire, you are one of the Chosen, vampires if you will, though I know you are not fond of that term. And yet, you have rejected their way of life. Why?”
Gabriel leans back in his chair and narrows his eyes. “Because I simply find any addiction deplorable. And most importantly, the vampires’,” he enunciates the word with enough poison to kill an adder, “flavor of immortality leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Are the vampires of legend truly immortal? Of course not. When one really analyzes their nature, it’s quite pathetic really. Hide away all day, stalk the dark, drink blood, seduce this person or that. Try to rule the world or their insignificant and small region of said small world. Rinse and repeat. How do these goals set vampires a part from any ordinary human being? I want more than blood, lust, conquest, and darkness. I want to be my own god with no shortcomings – especially the ultimate shortcoming – death. I need to conquer that and then be able to do as I please without any inhibitions.” He shrugs his shoulders, frowning. He“A very determined attitude. What would you consider your greatest character flaw?” Richard smiles, adding, “And what would be your most virtuous trait?”
Gabriel grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “What if they’re one in the same?” He waves his hand in the air, as if dismissing his own question. “I’ve been called obstinate and I will claim the insult and accept it as a compliment. Stubbornness has safeguarded my life. However, since you didn’t say that the trait and character flaw could be one in the same, my most virtuous trait is loyalty. My friends and those who I have sworn to protect can depend on me.”
“Fascinating. As a member of the paranormal set, how do you view your fellow supernatural beings?”
Gabriel’s jawline stiffens and his voice deepens with resolve. “With caution. Creatures of darkness, such as demons, fallen angels and the like are on my personal hit list. My ultimate passion in life is to hunt and destroy demon-kind. There’s no love lost between us. I learned that my maker deceived me into binding a pact with such monsters and I will not rest until every last one is sent to the abyss. She even went so far as to enthrall humanity to these beasts.” He pauses, clenching and unclenching his hand, a faraway look in his emerald-green eyes, as if waiting for an inner, fuming tide to ebb away. The lines in his young and handsome face relax. “I have encountered elves and find them to be both equally charming and obnoxious. I suppose it’s a cultural thing. I look forward to encountering other supernatural beings and seeing where they fit in the paranormal puzzle.”
“I don’t disagree with your assessment of demons, elves I have yet to encounter.” Richard grins, and continues, “What would you consider to be the best quality of human nature?”
“I suppose, resilience. You know, the courage to carry on even when defeat appears to be the only possible outcome. I suppose such overly optimistic thinking can also be rather foolish, but” he breaks off, chuckling, “it’s rather endearing, eh?”
“Quite. What is the strangest occurrence that happened to you in your long life?”
“The strangest occurrence I’ve experienced was a repetitive dream I had of a beautiful woman. She appeared every now and then as I slept to pass the time. But then, one evening I encountered her. She was weeping and resembled a spectre. I ached to touch this vision, but was interrupted. That first time I had glimpsed her was in 1888. And now, just a little while ago – no more than a week – I believe I saw her sitting in a coffee shop parking lot. Our eyes met and she slipped into her car and drove away. I wonder what this means.” He brushes the tips of his fingers across his lips, looking deep in thought.
Richard pauses for a moment to let his guest compose himself, and then asks, “What is your best memory?”
“Hmmm. That’s another excellent question. Slaying my first fallen angel, which is also my worst memory. You see, in order to conquer him, I had to absorb his essence. Little did I know what that entailed. And as you might realize it didn’t end well. You see, we’ve been somewhat er, uh . . . fused – for lack of a better word.” Gabriel crosses his leg over his knee and sighs. He taps the side of his head with his index finger. “He usually talks, spouting on and on about what I don’t know. And on occasion, he gives me advice on how to defeat others like him. But as of late, he’s been very quiet . . . too quiet.” He sighs again and fixes Mr. Dale with an intense stare. “If you know of anyone who can exorcise a demon, please send him or her my way.” He crosses his arms against his chest, trembling as if someone had walked over his grave. He forces out a laugh. “I suppose there is a bright side to this: I won’t grow bored devising a plan on ridding myself of him.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you on exorcism. I tend to shy away from anything dealing with demons. I did recently interview a priest, but I don’t think he practices that discipline.” Richard clears his throat. “On a different subject, what do you do for relaxation? Are you fond of reading, listening to music, or other leisure activities?
I enjoy gardening and enjoying the beauty of my labor. And there is of course reading and writing. A long time ago I amused myself with the notion of dating. But after several awkward first dates, I’ve come to the conclusion that modern women and I don’t have much in common.”
“One last question. What is your idea of perfect happiness?”
The shadow of a smirk plays on Gabriel’s mouth. “I have never entertained such idyllic thinking. In an imperfect world, how could one grasp such a state? And for the sake of argument, once one has obtained perfect happiness, how would one maintain it? That is a riddle I would love to unlock.”
“Well thank you Mr. Lennox, for agreeing to this interview. It has been enlightening.”
~*~
You can find the first book in the Gabriel Lennox series on Amazon
Forbidden (The Gabriel Lennox Series Book 1)

You can find about more on Gabriel Lennox and his author, Monique Desir at these sites:
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Drabble Wednesday: Abandoned

Today on Drabble Wednesday, I showcase the horror in the things we leave behind…




Secrets Behind the Shutters
Flapping in the wind of the oncoming storm, the shutters of the abandoned house rattled and thumped. Bang! Bang! The loud and violent cracks shattered the interminable silence that surrounded it, and something inside the house shuddered. This thing shifted, a black void coiling around itself.The walls of the house imprisoned it, existence bound by rotting wood and broken glass, and its own fear. It swallowed the interior within impenetrable darkness, no light passed beyond the windows; not in, nor out. It lived only as a consequence, birthed by hate and blood, doomed to haunt this spot for eternity.
~*~


   Leftovers
The rusted old truck, a relic even before the Fall, waited on the broken asphalt as the night closed in around it. A light dusting of snow gathered over its metal frame, as the first flakes of winter tumbled from the sky.Its owner parked in a hurry, motor still running, rushed to pack up and leave before the calamitous world and its horrors caught up with him. The old faithful truck waited through the night and the next day, waited until its motor sputtered and its gas tank bled dry. And there it remained.No one was coming back.

~*~



Dolly Dear
The doll sat on a trunk in the attic, her porcelain face cracked, moth holes and stains marring the fabric of her dress and its lace yellowed with age. No one played with her anymore. She was forgotten. What she witnessed was forgotten.Yet, she remembered.Her memories burned with images, the horror her unblinking glass eyes saw that day.  Her beloved child killed. Slashed and savaged, cast off blood soaking into the doll’s dress.  Those memories made her tremble.That’s why she liked the attic, so quiet and peaceful. Here the doll could remember good times, not the horror…


© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 

Beyond the Wail: A Fireside Chat with Father Mahoney

Today I present another Fireside Chat for the paranormal anthology, Beyond the Wail. In this character interview our intrepid Richard Dale sits down to chat with Father Mahoney, from the story The Poltergeist and Aunt Betty by Ginger C. Mann.

And don't forget to keep scrolling down past the interview for a giveaway, book trailer, and a listing for the book's wonderful blog tour.

And now I give you...

A Fireside Chat with Father Mahoney

“Welcome everyone, to another Fireside Chat. I’m Richard Dale, your host. Today, our guest is Father Mahoney, of the St. Philip’s Catholic Church in Lake Charles, Louisiana.” Richard nods to the man sitting opposite to him. “Welcome Father. Why don’t you begin by telling our audience a bit about yourself.”
“Thank you, Richard, and thank you for having me here. A ‘bit about myself?’ I am a son of Irish immigrants from Chicago, and now I'm the newest priest at St. Philip’s Catholic Church in Lake Charles, Louisiana. It's a beautiful parish, and the church is over 100 years old. This is my fourth year to serve there.”
“As you said, you are now firmly established in your faith, but you essentially rejected the Church for some time in your younger days. Care to elaborate on the reasons for your crisis of faith?”
Father Mahoney pauses. “There was a time that I rejected the church, yes. It is difficult to remember it, but I will tell you a brief account. As a child, I was badly bullied by a minister. I was raised a strong Catholic, and my family was active. Of course, as a son in a  an active church family, I soon became an altar boy. It started out well for me, but as time passed, I discovered that the priest who advised me was not a gentle man. In fact, I now recognize that children frightened him. For any tiny mistake I made, he was careful to berate me publicly. He used other tactics, too – no, no details, but many things that kept me in fear of him. He was good at control, and he terrified me so completely that he gave me nightmares. I was too frightened of him to ask for help, so this went on for some time. One morning, after I served Mass especially poorly, he grew so angry that he began to hit  me. I was lucky that my mother was standing there to witness that, or it could have gotten much worse. She pulled me away immediately, and took action with church authorities. However, like so many abusers, this priest was not disciplined. I stopped serving on the altar, but the next week, another child was up there in the same position. That burned in my gut until it wore me down. I could not let it go, and neither could my family. We left the church over it. After awhile, I could not stand the sight of any church. My mother returned to a different one after a few years, but I was sure I would never go back.”
“Yet you did, but not before pursuing other interests, such as ghost hunting.” Richard pauses slightly. “Your first substantial paranormal encounter was at Auschwitz. How profound an experience was that, and are there any ongoing consequences?”
Father Mahoney closes his eyes, as if struggling with himself. He looks down, then gathers his strength and faces the host. “This is less of a reaction and more of a story, Richard, if we have the time?”
Richard nods. “We do.”
“First, your audience needs to know that I considered myself an Atheist before I studied the paranormal. In fact, I rejected all spirituality. God’s representative hurt me, and for me that made God a monster. So, I wrapped all spirituality in the same package with that monstrous God, and threw it out. I chose psychology as my course of study, but then I discovered parapsychology. I liked that subject  a lot, mainly because it tended to view paranormal activity as a mental condition, and nothing else.“I was fond of ghost hunter groups back then. I found them so easy to ridicule: plenty of gadgetry, lots of heartbeat monitors and ultra sensitive cameras, and  for what? Time-lapsed, blurry melodrama. Oh, and folklore. They were great at folklore. Tell a story, find a blur in a picture frame. Tell the story again, and sell the blur.”
“Not an uncommon reaction to these types of groups.” Richard murmurs sympathetically.
“Apologies, Richard, I am being unkind. It's an echo of who I was back then, and I hope I am not the same now. I often cringe at how callous I used to be. Well, there was a group of ghost hunters who tolerated me, even though I was a young Ph. D. student who “knew it all,” and talked to them like they were idiots. However, they were thick-skinned and refused to take it personally. They dismissed my ideas about as thoroughly as I dismissed theirs, and then we would go out for beers afterward. I enjoyed giving the “logical rebuttal” speech in the middle of their films – the kind  that set their entire premise on its ear. They enjoyed pipping me  the rest of the time, and so we called it even.“So I was happy when they approached me with a “special project”. They wanted to film a sequence on location at Auschwitz. (Don't even ask me how they worked that out with the bean counters  at the University.) Before I knew it, we were there on site, hunting for disembodied spirits and fog wisps. They set up their thousands of wires and their beep-boop machines and started crawling the place dressed in jumpsuits and night vision goggles. Comical. Then, it happened.“I didn't follow the troop, I just sat there in the middle of the courtyard. Looked to be the same one where prisoners were brought for mass meetings by the Nazi keepers. As an abused child, my heart breaks for the oppressed. I found myself remembering the victims of the slaughter, thinking on them solemnly. I told myself I might have said a prayer, back when I believed in anything. Instead, I grabbed my sketchbook. I had pasted a  list of Auschwitz victims inside the front cover. I studied it for a minute, thinking about how their lives ended. Then, on a whim, I began to mention them out loud.  Right there in the middle of the courtyard, I spoke about about ten names at random.“I paused and looked up from my book for a moment. A  skinny man stood there, staring me down. I thought for a moment that he was with us, but then I noticed that he was almost naked. His face and form faded back and forth, as if he were made out of mist. His eyes sagged like pits. Before I could react, another man came forward. Both of them stared at me in the same way, as if they were trying to make up their minds about something. The first one spoke. He said, “Do you see us?” All I could do was nod.“Then, I noticed something else, Richard: looking around that courtyard, I saw no fewer than ten wispy forms  wandering the grounds. I watched them walk right through the ghost hunters, who ignored them. On a hunch, I began to speak again, reading the same ten names from that list in my book. One by one, they wandered in my direction. When I passed their names, they wandered off again. Most of them sat down, hugging their legs. Some of them stood up on occasion, and they would begin to flail as if they were taking a beating. I was looking at suffering people, but never once did I see any of their oppressors. Furthermore, my colleagues continued to turn a blind eye, and so did their equipment. Not so much as a “blip” registered  on the paranormal tracking devices. Looked like another folklore-telling, smudge-selling outing for them. I was the only witness to this scene, or so I believed.“The place was dark and dank, and the people looked to be in hell. I witnessed them there, still in their torture chamber, as if their souls languished here after their bodies left them behind. I wept openly, casting about for something to do, some way to help. I focused, not with my eyes, but with my heart. I concentrated on my connection with them. As I did so, their forms grew clearer.  I sat there beside them, watching their agony and weeping tears of grief.“It was then that I looked up. Above the scene, misty like the spirits around me, I saw a radiant light in the sky. Something felt . . .  alive in it. To look at it filled me with joy. I turned to the man next to me and tapped him on the shoulder. I pointed up, trying to ask him what it was. He stared at the ground and hugged his knees. I tried again, he shook his head and wailed. I sat and cried with him. It was all I could do.“I moved on to the woman next to him. I sat by her and said, “I see you.” She was startled – so startled that she looked straight at me. One of her eyes was missing, and the other was streaming,  either with tears or disease. I reached out my hand, and she took it. Felt like a downy feather, her touch. I said, “There is something up there. A beautiful light. What is it?”“It was then that I witnessed my first miracle, Richard. She raised her face and looked straight into the sky. As she looked, the eye that had been missing reformed itself in her skull. Her flesh filled out and hair grew on her head. She was suddenly young and beautiful. She stared back at me, two crisp blue eyes wide with surprise. “I don't hurt anymore,” that is what her face said. She turned away, and I saw her take the hand of the man next to her. He tossed her off initially, but she shook him until he looked up angrily, with war on his face. Then, he caught sight of her, all new and restored like she was. He said, “Schlomit?” Then, he looked past her and froze in place. As the light in the sky bathed his eyes, his body straightened into a handsome young man. He gazed at Schlomit, who I assumed was his wife, and they embraced each other.“The two of them walked away after that, hand in hand. They were headed toward the light that healed them, but I honestly can't say where they went. For my part, I gazed for a moment on that spectral light. Nothing logical about this, but for the first time since my own abuse, I thought I might be worthy of love.“Now, we scientists like to have cross-validators in these little field experiments, so imagine my surprise when I caught the tour guide staring straight at me. This was no university educated “paranormal specialist.” It was a minimum wage adult, babysitting a few college kids on a ghost safari. He didn't speak, he just pointed to each and every spirit who remained on the grounds, and then up to the sky. He saw exactly what I saw. We locked eyes. Knowing that my German was as rusty as his English, I chose not to speak out loud; but eyeing each other, we made a gentlemen’s pact nonetheless. One by one, we approached every spirit and encouraged them to look up; look away from their private hell. Some of them listened. Some of them did not.“We had to leave, and I could not give my debunking speech on the ghost video. I took all kinds of snark for it, but I didn't care. Instead, I buckled down, focused on trying to help the victims I could still see. In the end, I could not force any decision on them. I could just show them and watch the healing, or respect their decision to suffer. If they suffered, I would sit next to them, hold them, and cry. That changed a man's mind once. Just one man, but it was enough to make me keep trying. I stayed in that same courtyard until my colleagues dragged me out.”Father Mahoney pauses, visibly upset. “Someday, Richard, I will go back. I will sit with those souls for an eternity in that squalid place, if there is a chance of saving even one more of them from hell.”
There is a moment of silence before Richard speaks. “Well. A profound experience indeed. I’m not quite certain what to ask as my next question—wait, I believe it’s time for some refreshment.” They are interrupted by the arrival of a gentleman carrying a tray with shot glasses and a decanter. “I see Jenkins has brought the whiskey. Wonderful. I believe it’s just the thing we need.” Richard smiles as Jenkins sets the tray down and waits. “Care for a nip? It’s an excellent Irish whiskey. Jameson I believe.”
“Jameson is a fine whiskey, thank you Richard. I'm still an Irishman to the core. I do love a nip from time to time.”
Jenkins pours two glasses of liquor, serves both men, and then retreats. Richard Dale takes a sip of whiskey and asks, “As someone with a gift for interacting with the otherworldly, what most fascinates you regarding the paranormal and ghosts in particular?”
“I think the most fascinating, and also confusing, aspect of spirits is the fact that they are well aware of what they are. It's cliché to imagine them wandering the earth believing they are still alive – as if they ignored their death somehow. However, I find that rarely happens. Death is a major event, and the dead are even more aware of it than the living. Now that I am attuned to them, I see them frequently. Most of them pass on to wherever they are going. But some stay. It is rare, but they have their reasons. Those reasons are as individual as they are.”
“On a different subject, do you have any hobbies outside the Church?”
He smiles. “I love a good game of chess. I was once a tournament champ all across the Midwest. Care for a match, Richard?” He turns his head. “Or perhaps you, Jenkins?”
Jenkins blinks, and replies. “I shall have to decline, sir. I don’t play. But thank you.”
Richard smirks somewhat. “Yes, I believe Jenkins is a bridge man. I’d be happy to take you up on your offer of a game, after the interview. And speaking of such, what is your idea of perfect happiness?”
“I have seen and felt perfect happiness. It is in that Presence that I saw for the first time in Germany, and still see today. I dream of spending every moment in that eternal Light.”
“And admirable sentiment, Father.” Richard finishes his whiskey and sets down the glass. “What is your fondest memory?”
“Ah, this is where I can tell you about Her.“After some time in Auschwitz, I began to remember my own mornings of hell, when I was beaten down by my tormentor. They paled in comparison to what the wailing spirits of Auschwitz had seen, but somehow my stay there made my monster rear its ugly head again, and so my nightmares returned. I found myself crouched in a ball, an eleven-year-old boy sniveling, waiting for a troubled priest to beat me up again. I would not uncurl for anything or anyone, because he was as real to me as you are Richard: standing above me, holding a stick. My instinct was  to protect myself.“I felt a touch on my shoulder. Downy, like the touch of Schlomit. The wind blew my hair, and I smelled roses. The touches persisted, they would not leave me alone. I finally peeked out through my fingers, the way kids do sometimes. A woman looked back at me. I never saw her face clearly – its form kept shifting; but I saw she was a spirit. She was made of light, though, not the misty, grey, filmy stuff I saw in the other ones. She pointed with her hand, inviting me to stand and look at something. I was too frightened, so I hid my face again.“She did not leave me. Instead, I was surrounded by the fragrance of roses, and little downy feathers seemed to fall all over my skin. I peeked through my fingers again. Her face was still there, out of focus, but . . . I could tell she was weeping. She surrounded me with herself, light and fragrance and feathers. Wind through my hair, and soft melodies in my ears. I struggled between self-defense and enchantment, determined to keep safe, but wishing I could look at her longer. Finally, I dropped my hands. Fingers made of light lifted my chin, feathers in the breeze caressed my face and urged it up, up, up. Without knowing what I was doing, I looked straight into the sky and gazed on that radiant light. She held me there while I took it all in. The love, Richard, it was indescribable. Nothing hurt me anymore, not even my most secret fears. I fell for Her that day, and She has been with me ever since, an adorable Presence by my side.“You see, priesthood is a logical vocation for a man like me. There is not a woman alive who could take Her place.”
“Quite amazing. As to your vocation, what is the most rewarding aspect of being a priest?”
“It continues to reward me when I see the healing of a broken soul. One does not have to be a ghost to suffer, Richard. I lost my love of the Catholic Church because someone's bad actions defaced God. I strive every day to right that wrong, and represent God with kindness. Sometimes, one of the sufferers listens, “looks up,” and sees the love that waits for them. Those are good days, Richard. Very good days.”
“One last question. Have you ever met anyone else with your particular gift for seeing ghosts?”
“A relevant question! The answer will surprise you. I find that almost everyone has this “gift”. It's just a question of focus. Some minds are especially attuned to the unseen. I find that these are people whose minds are not burdened by expectations of “real” and “normal”. I notice that many children and animals see exactly what I see.“Other minds are sensitive as well: people who are diagnosed “mentally ill” sometimes are seeing spirits that walk the earth. Where it gets dicey is when they can see actual spirits, but then hallucinate others. I find that I can sometimes guide these types, and help them to tell the real from the imagined, and do some good. Spirits usually want to be seen by someone, and they often gather around aWell thank you Father Mahoney, for agreeing to this interview. It was a distinct pleasure. Now for that game of chess…







What is it about fear and the unknown that pulls so passionately at the human heart? Perhaps we are drawn not to the darkness itself, but to the resolution, the overcoming of what we most deeply dread. After all, the more terrible the struggle, the greater the victory when it comes at last. Presented in this anthology are twelve remarkable stories of the darkness that overshadows us, and the resolution that may be found beyond them. They are stories of fear and oppression, but ultimately stories of hope, stories that will take you BEYOND THE WAIL.
Beyond the Wail is available at Amazon









Book Release Blog Tour
Featured Author: Danielle E. Shipley Saturday, October 10, 2015Are you Afraid of the Dark?
John's WritingFeatured Author: Alex McGilvery Sunday, October 11, 2015Ash Krafton: Emotion Between the Lines
Scott E. Tarbet, Author
Writer's Law of Motion Featured Author: T.N. PAYNE Monday, October 12, 2015Author Sarah Hunter Hyatt
Notes from Author Ginger C. Mann Featured Author: Ginger C. Mann
Tuesday, October 13, 2015L.K. McIntosh
J S Brown
Fairies & Pirates Featured Author: L.K. McIntosh Wednesday, October 14, 2015Rampant Games
Scotty Watty Doodle All The Day
Terra Luft — View From the Crystal Ball Featured Author: Jay Barnson Thursday, October 15, 2015A Storyteller's Journey
Creativity from Chaos
Christine HaggertyFeatured Author: A. F. Stewart Friday, October 16, 2015Tales by Julie
Perpetual Chaos of a Wandering Mind
Alas, EarwaxFeatured Author: Amanda Banker Saturday, October 17, 2015Sebastian Bendix
Alex Campbell
Semi Short chicFeatured Author: Julie Barnson Sunday, October 18, 2015The Ink Caster
The Road to Nowhere
InvicticideFeatured Author: Sebastian Bendix Monday, October 19, 2015The J. Aurel Guay Archive
:DandiFluff...
OriginiquEquanimityFeatured Author: Tirzah Duncan Tuesday, October 20, 2015Alex McGilvery's World
A.M.Harte
In The SpotlightFeatured Author: F.M. Longo Wednesday, October 21, 2015Ever On Word
The Cult of Me
Cobblestone Scribe

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Beyond the Wail: Fireside Chat with Elizabeth Young

Today I present a Fireside Chat. Our intrepid Richard Dale interviews Elizabeth Young, one of the characters of the story Date Due by Danielle E. Shipley. Date Due is included in the paranormal anthology, Beyond the Wail.  Be sure to scroll down past the interview for a giveaway, book trailer, and a listing for the book's wonderful blog tour.




Fireside Chat with Elizabeth Young
“Welcome everyone, to another Fireside Chat. I’m Richard Dale, your host. Today, our guest is writer, Elizabeth Young.” Richard nods to the woman sitting opposite to him. “Welcome Ms. Young. It is a great pleasure to have an author of your immense talent here today. I’m quite the fan. I’ve read most of your stories and essays, and look forward to reading your first book.” He smiles broadly, positively gushing. “Why don’t you begin by telling our audience a bit about yourself.”
“Well.” Elizabeth’s brows rise, gentle black arches in a round brown face. “Isn’t that interesting. Here I’ve thought myself to be relatively unknown, only for your interview invitation to arrive scarcely an hour ahead of an e-mail from a publisher expressing interest in my work. I can only suppose an imminent change in fortune. Ahead of that, there’s little enough to tell about me. Or perhaps it’s only that the price an author pays for the crafting of fiction is the famine of words left to speak of themselves. Still, I have managed to scrape together a professional bio.”She leans back in her seat, her low voice gone huskier as she speaks as if weaving a tale. “ ‘Elizabeth Young has not always considered herself a writer. But from as early as she knew that words come together to make stories, she has loved them both. She finds herself drawn to fictional worlds where the ordinary and extraordinary live in subtle harmony – paranormal, contemporary fantasy, anything with an underlying magic that makes her blood sing. A current resident of the American Southwest, in the hours between grading the papers of her community college World Literature class, she fills her own pages with dreams.’ ”
“You are too modest. You have many fans, myself among them.” He smiles. “But I’m sure you want to get on with the interview, not hear me prattle.” His expression changes slightly, becoming more serious. “The life of a teacher must be fulfilling. As must be the life of a writer. Tell me, what would you most like your readers to gain from your work?”
“Oh, nothing so grand.” Her full, red lips pull into a slight smile. “I only wish to grant them the temporary divorce of body from soul. These forms are so limiting, are they not? Restricting us to little more than what we can see, taste, touch, and so forth. A good story will take you out of yourself. Allow your spirit into others’ minds and hearts. Your world expands, immeasurable. You live a thousand lives. That is no small magic, and I’ve found I have the knack.”
“A great knack, I assure you. Who are your personal inspirations and influences in the world of literature?”
“Most anything with atmosphere, something providing a sense of place so present, you can almost feel its nearness brushing up against your skin. I’ve found it often enough in prose, though poetry does a fine job of it, too; I love a thoughtful haiku – the whole of a hymn in the space of a breath. Hmm, naming names… Francis Hodgson Burnett’s secret garden. L.M. Montgomery’s tales of Prince Edward Island, and Tolkien’s of Middle Earth. The folklore of Russia, Ireland, China… And Poe,” she reflects. “I have long felt drawn to Poe.”
“Fascinating. I too, enjoy reading Poe. Such an interesting author, with a intriguing life. And speaking of intriguing, what is the oddest thing that has ever happened to you?”
Elizabeth pauses to consider, her eyes on the ceiling, nostrils softly flaring outward with every measured exhalation. A finger idly strokes a dark twist of hair fallen over her shoulder. “Aged five or so,” she recalls. “Visiting with my father’s parents – both of them writers, too, as it happens. I was going through the books on their shelves, looking for words I was just beginning to learn how to recognize. But they wouldn’t stay still on the page. The letters shimmered and danced, seeming to drift out of alignment, toward my hands. I was at once alarmed and bespelled.“My father blamed ocular problems, my mother blamed dyslexia. They allowed my grandmother to school me through much of my adolescence; she had experienced the same phenomenon, growing up, and so knew how to help me through until the printed word stayed where I wished it to. I’m very grateful to her being there, to keep the experience from scaring me off of reading. I think of her every time I come up for air from a story that’s held me enchanted, or whenever I see a word seeming to shimmer out of the corner of my eye. I owe her the greatest part of me.”
He leans forward, an eyebrow raised. However, as Richard is about to reply, they are interrupted by the arrival of a gentleman carrying a tea tray. He leans back with a smile. “Oh, I believe it’s time for our tea break. Thank you Jenkins.” Richard nods as Jenkins sets the tray down and waits. “Care for a cup? It’s an excellent Earl Grey. We also have lemon cake.”
“Yes to the good Earl, if you please.” Elizabeth sits up at attention. “I can never refuse a cup a tea.”
Jenkins pours two cups, serves both tea and cake, and then retreats.  Richard Dale takes a sip from his cup, and asks, “As one who has brushed the paranormal, I must broach the subject with you. What are your views on things beyond our reality, such as magic, or ghosts?”
Elizabeth’s eyes regard him mildly over the rim of her cup, kissed with lipstick. “I’m none too certain they are so very far beyond. An author of fiction encounters many things, having opened their mind to possibilities so often dismissed as unreal. For better and worse, there’s a good deal more magic beneath the surface of things than the average person suspects, I think.”
He sighs. “I have to agree with you there. Strange things abound, closer than one cares to know.” He clears his throat, and changes the subject. “On a slightly less esoteric subject, what is your idea of perfect happiness?”
A faint crease appears between her brows. “It strikes me as unattainable. Everything comes at a cost of one kind or another, so you’ll always come up shy of perfection.” Her lips twitch into a smile. “That’s just something you resign yourself to after a fruitless quest to write ‘the perfect book’. Still, I believe perfect contentmentis possible. It all comes down to whether you determine that what you’ve gained is worth the price you’ve paid.”
“And in that vein, do you have any hobbies to aid your contentment?”
“Outside of reading? I enjoy traveling, particularly to places a bit off the beaten track. Walks in the woods are ever inspiring to me. A ramble through the sequoia giants of Yosemite in early winter…” Her gaze drifts faraway, voice turned wistful. “The trees’ breath mists same as ours, in the cold. Tumbles from the trunks like smoke. They look like dragons.”
“What a charming image.” Richard sets his teacup down. “What is your most prized possession? Why do you value it so much?”
“My own person. It may not be much to look at, as bodies go, but it is essential. It… anchors me. Provides a point of contact here, in this world, so my spirit can wander through worlds of imagination without the worry of drifting out of reach. For all my fondness of travel, I do like returning home again.”
“Yes, no place like home as they say. One last question. What would you consider to be the best quality of human nature?”
“Its courage,” she says, without hesitation. “It takes such bravery to be human. So much to fear. So much to dare.”
“Well thank you Ms. Young, for agreeing to this interview. It has been a rare delight.”
“The pleasure’s been mine, Mr. Dale.” She extends a hand for a farewell shake. “Perhaps the next time we meet, I’ll have that first novel written.”Richard shakes her hand warmly. “I look forward to reading it, Ms. Young, and another meeting.”




~*~Beyond the Wail


What is it about fear and the unknown that pulls so passionately at the human heart? Perhaps we are drawn not to the darkness itself, but to the resolution, the overcoming of what we most deeply dread. After all, the more terrible the struggle, the greater the victory when it comes at last. Presented in this anthology are twelve remarkable stories of the darkness that overshadows us, and the resolution that may be found beyond them. They are stories of fear and oppression, but ultimately stories of hope, stories that will take you BEYOND THE WAIL.
Beyond the Wail is available at Amazon





If you'd like to check out the book further, hop aboard the Beyond the Wail Blog Tour!
Book Release Blog Tour
Featured Author: Danielle E. Shipley Saturday, October 10, 2015Are you Afraid of the Dark?
John's WritingFeatured Author: Alex McGilvery Sunday, October 11, 2015Ash Krafton: Emotion Between the Lines
Scott E. Tarbet, Author
Writer's Law of Motion Featured Author: T.N. PAYNE Monday, October 12, 2015Author Sarah Hunter Hyatt
Notes from Author Ginger C. Mann Featured Author: Ginger C. Mann Tuesday, October 13, 2015L.K. McIntosh
J S Brown
Fairies and Pirates Featured Author: L.K. McIntosh Wednesday, October 14, 2015Rampant Games
Scotty Watty Doodle All The Day
Terra Luft — View From the Crystal Ball Featured Author: Jay Barnson Thursday, October 15, 2015A Storyteller's Journey
Creativity from Chaos
Christine HaggertyFeatured Author: A. F. Stewart Friday, October 16, 2015Tales by Julie
Perpetual Chaos of a Wandering Mind
Alas, EarwaxFeatured Author: Amanda Banker Saturday, October 17, 2015Sebastian Bendix
Alex Campbell
Semi Short chicFeatured Author: Julie Barnson Sunday, October 18, 2015The Ink Caster
The Road to NowhereFeatured Author: Sebastian Bendix Monday, October 19, 2015The J. Aurel Guay Archive
:DandiFluff...
OriginiquEquanimityFeatured Author: Tirzah Duncan Tuesday, October 20, 2015Alex McGilvery's World
A.M.Harte
In The SpotlightFeatured Author: F.M. Longo Wednesday, October 21, 2015Ever On Word
The Cult of Me
Cobblestone Scribe

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Interview With Author Greta Cribbs

Another great interview today, with Greta Cribbs, author of  the paranormal mystery, Amelia's Children. Enjoy!


An Interview With Greta Cribbs



Why don’t you begin by sharing a little about yourself?
I am currently a stay-at-home mom, which is great because it gives me time to pursue my many interests, one of which happens to be writing.  I also obsessively study Spanish and take dance lessons.  I have a degree in music education which I still use, despite the fact that I am not currently employed, by teaching a small but dedicated group of piano students.  In addition to these things, I am a certified instructor of Yoga and Pilates.


Could you tell us a bit about your latest book?
The title of my new book is Amelia's Children.  It is a paranormal mystery told from the point of view of Sarah, a young woman who has just returned to her hometown after a failed attempt at an acting career.  She is immediately attracted to David, a handsome stranger who has just come into town on "personal business".  As she attempts to discover what that business is, she learns that there is more to David's story than meets the eye, and she eventually begins to suspect that it is all tied to Amelia Davis, a local woman who was murdered thirty years ago, but whose killer has never been caught.

How long have you been writing, and how many books have you published to date?
I started writing poetry when I was nine years old.  I completed a novel, a ghost story, when I was twelve, but never published it.  Throughout my teens and early twenties I was too busy pursuing my career in music to do any serious writing.  I still wrote poems, and I started working on a book here and there, but never had time to finish anything.  Amelia's Children is my first published work.

Why did you write this book? What was your inspiration?
Okay, I have to say that I hate having people inside my head, so I find this question a little embarrassing, but hey…publishing a book is about putting myself out there for all to see right?  So here goes.  Three things were going on when I started Amelia's Children.  First of all, I had just gone through a job loss, so I threw all of the frustration I was feeling after that experience into my narrator, Sarah.  Her dissatisfaction with life and her feeling of not fitting in anywhere is exactly where I was in my own life when I was writing the book.Second, I had just finished watching Twin Peaks, and was feeling more than a little frustrated with how all of that ended.  I mean really, weren't all Twin Peaks fans frustrated when that show came to a close?  This was the inspiration for a lot of the setting of my story.  Interestingly, though, in the beginning I tried to avoid the whole "murder in a small town" thing.  Of course I already had the small town setting, but I beyond that all I knew was that the story was going to center around David and an evil villain.  At first I had no idea what unspeakable crime the villain had committed.  Determined that it would not be a murder, I ran through multiple scenarios in my head.  It soon became apparent, however, that none of those scenarios were going to work.  I needed an event that was powerful enough to bring together all of the minor characters who were crucial in moving the story along.  An unsolved murder in a small town turned out to be the only thing I found sufficient.Third, I am a huge fan of Supernatural, but just like with Twin Peaks, I was frustrated with the direction some of the storylines had taken over the years.  I am one of the loyal seasons one and two fans, and I miss the creepy atmosphere the show used to have.  I also loved Sam Winchester's character in the early seasons.  It was the idea of everything being somehow about him, and not in a good way, that first hooked me on the show.  A large part of David's character is drawn from that.

What did you enjoy most about writing your book?
My favorite part about writing this book was the characters.  There was an interesting evolution of this, though.  I started out being head-over-heels in love with David.  My feelings about him are why I chose a female narrator.  I needed the audience to see him the way I saw him.  But the more I wrote, the more I started to fall in love with Sarah's brother Will.  I originally intended for him to be a relatively minor character, but as the story unfolded he started to come alive for me.  He's actually at the center of what, in my opinion, is the most touching scene in the whole book--a scene I didn't even think of until I was about half-way through writing it.

What did you hope to accomplish by publishing your book?
I hope to find a connection with readers who like their fiction a little on the mysterious and creepy side.  I also hope that they will love my characters the way that I love them.  And who knows, maybe someone will see something in my book that I didn't see.

When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?
When I was twelve and writing that first book, being a writer was the only thing I wanted.  I already had the interest in music at that point, but I was not dreaming of that as a career.  Then high school came along and my interests changed.  The desire to write remained with me, it was just pushed down and tucked out of sight.  When I lost my job I needed a new creative outlet, so I sat down at the computer and wrote a book.
  How do you research your books?
Because I set my book in a town very much like the one where I grew up, and based the narrator's character primarily on myself, I didn't have to do too much research for this book.  When I started writing the details of the murder, though, I wanted that to be as accurate as possible, so I visited several medical websites and read up on various ways a murder victim could die.  Creepy, I know, but it was just research for a book.  We have to get our information
What’s your next project? Any upcoming book secrets you care to reveal?
I've just started working on my next project.  It's also a paranormal book, but it is not a mystery.  It's more of a family drama that centers on a young man who was born with a very unusual psychic ability.  Yeah, I know, it's more of that Sam Winchester vibe.  What can I say?  A fan is a fan.


Author Bio:
Greta Cribbs has worn many hats over the years, from mom to schoolteacher to choir director.  She constantly seeks out opportunities to indulge her many interests, but writing is the passion that has been with her the longest.  She wrote her first poem at the age of nine and has been crafting stories ever since.  Amelia's Children is her first published work.  You can follow @GretaCribbs on Twitter for the latest information about her writing and other projects she is working on.
Amelia's Children is available at Amazon

Drabble Wednesday: Lost Worlds

Today we wander, past the known and into the strange lands of forgotten worlds…



The Canals of Venice
The gentle sway of the water lapped at the canals of Venice, as it did every day. The gondolas rode the waterways, and the tourists strained their necks to see the city’s beauty. But not one, tourist or resident, looked below the water, deep within the submerged depths.Probably best for their sanity, their gaze turned elsewhere.For underneath those tranquil looking waters lurked a world mislaid. A world of blackened hearts and broken promises, of righteous fury and rank betrayal. A world of Venice’s past sins and the not quite dead.A world always on the edge of awakening…
~*~



Underground
Overgrown, it sits, a hole in a hill.  It gapes like an earthen maw, this opening to some subterranean lair.  Stone stairs climb to it, beckoning travellers—come, explore. So serene, and yet foreboding, its lure has tempted many of the curious and the foolish to venture inside.Into its dark and dank interior, meandering down, down, ever down. So enjoyable until the realization sets in. There is no path back. Only wandering downward. Wandering forever, desperate, alone, never to see the light of day again.I know. I’ve been trying to get home for a thousand years. Perhaps more.
~*~



The Angel’s Arch
Pale, silent creatures flanked the marble archway, a pair of winged angels; stern-faced, heads slightly bowed, strong wings curled ever so slightly. They both stood guard, awaiting those who dared to approach. And many souls did approach. Some sought solace, some sought hope, all sought to pass through the archway. All were turned away.Save her.The dark-haired, black-eyed woman the angels awaited. The Queen returned. They bowed on knee as she passed through the shimmering archway. The world beyond greeted her in a chorus of hope. She greeted them with fire and war, and an army of bloodthirsty angels…


© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 

Interview With Author Michael G. Munz

It's back to our regularly scheduled programming today, and I'm starting things out with a wonderful interview with Michael G. Munz, author of Zeus is Dead, A Shadow in the Flames, A Memory in the Black, and the upcoming book, A Dragon at the Gate. Enjoy...


Interview with Michael G. Munz


Why don’t you begin by telling us a little about yourself?
I’m a speculative fiction writer and proud geek from the tiny little town of Seattle, Washington. When I’m not writing, I can be found reading, gaming (primarily on a PC at the moment), and occasionally venturing out into the natural sunlight to bike or interact with my fellow human beings and the occasional llama. I’m also excited to say that I recently won a Bronze Medal for fantasy in the 2015 Readers’ Favorite Book Awards!

Of all the books you've written, do you have a favourite?
I’ve completed a total of four books, three of which are published, and of those four my favorite would have to be my comedic fantasy Zeus Is Dead: A Monstrously Inconvenient Adventure . It was a blast to write, and an amazing challenge to try to plumb the comedic potential of Greek gods returning to our world while at the same time crafting an adventure story that holds together throughout the comedy.

You write in several genres. Do you have a favourite? And if so, why?
I write in sci-fi and fantasy, and my favorite at this point is fantasy. Both have massive potential for imagination, but fantasy seems to fit me more. There are generally fewer constraints, and with fantasy I don’t run the risk of a real-world technological advance making a story concept passé the way I might with science fiction. That’s not to say that I can’t still have fun writing science fiction, of course.

Who is your intended readership?
Geeks! And I use that term with pride. Being a sci-fi/fantasy writer, I’m a consumer of a lot of geek culture myself, and I think my own writing reflects that. It’s especially the case with Zeus Is Dead, as I lampooned, revered, referenced, and generally embraced a lot of geek culture in the narrative itself. Note that it is intended for adult geeks, or at least an audience mature enough to enjoy Douglas Adams’s works.

Why did you write Zeus Is Dead? What was your inspiration?
I’ve been fascinated with Greek and Roman mythology since I was a little boy. One of my favorite books to read (right after Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr. Fox) was a collection of myths. That interest carried through high school and even a few college courses. By then I’d realized that the Greek pantheon itself was full to bursting with a myriad of characters, all with very human passions, vices, strengths, and weaknesses. I wanted to use them in a myth of my own, and somewhere along the way the idea struck me that a juxtaposition of mythological characters in the modern day could be mined for hilarity, and then it just developed from there.

What did you enjoy most about writing your book?
Zeus Is Dead was the first humorous book I’ve written. For the first time I was able to embrace all the little side jokes that my brain always makes when I write—things I previously had to mostly ignore due to writing a more serious work. (Sometimes I managed to work some of that humor in anyway, via a comment made by a character with a sense of humor, but most of it had to be squelched in order to maintain the proper tone.) With Zeus Is Dead, I just let it spill onto the page. Some of it was lost in the editing process—as it should be—but not having to hold back felt very liberating.

When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?
I had that particular epiphany when I was nineteen during the summer after my freshman year of college. I was staying at my parents’ place, which was on the south end of a big island here in Washington State’s Puget Sound, and about an hour and a ferry ride away from anyone I knew. As a result, I was feeling pretty isolated and depressed. (I should mention that it wasn’t some sort of Harry Potter-esque forced-to-live-in-a-closet sort of thing. My parents are great, and even if they had forced me to live in a closet, I’m sure it would have been a very comfortable one. I was just having trouble dealing with being away from everyone that I’d gotten know that year.) Reading was one of my refuges against my late-teen/early-adult angst. I vividly remember lying on my bed eating popcorn while in the middle of reading Terry Brooks’s Elfstones of Shannara for the first time. When I took a moment to reflect on how much I was enjoying it, I had this watershed moment and realized how fulfilling it would be to give others the same enjoyment via my own writing the way Brooks’s writing was giving me.I’m pretty sure it had nothing at all to do with the popcorn.

Are you working on another book?
I am! I’m doing my best to finish up the third and final book in my science fiction/cyberpunk series. Following A Shadow in the Flames (book one) and A Memory in the Black (book two), it’s tentatively titled A Dragon at the Gate . I’d hoped to have it ready for publication by this December, but it’s taking a longer than I’d planned to tie things up in a satisfactory fashion. I hope to have it completed by late winter 2016.

What’s your next project? Any upcoming book secrets you care to reveal?
After A Dragon at the Gate, I’m going back to the world of Zeus Is Dead. I don’t want to reveal too much just now, but it’s entirely possible that the title of that book will be Zeus Is Undead. Will there be zombies? It’s highly likely.

Author Bio:
An award-winning writer of speculative fiction, Michael G. Munz enjoys writing tales that combine the futuristic or fantastic with the modern world and human themes. His driving desire is to craft entertaining stories that give to others the same pleasure that other writers have given to him. Among his influences are the writings of Dan Simmons, Terry Brooks, and Douglas Adams. Michael dwells in Seattle where he continues his quest to write the most entertaining novel known to humankind and find a really fantastic clam linguini. Find out more about him at michaelgmunz.com.

Zeus Is Dead
THE GODS ARE BACK. DID YOU MYTH THEM?
You probably saw the press conference. Nine months ago, Zeus’s murder catapulted the Greek gods back into our world. Now they revel in their new temples, casinos, and media empires—well, all except Apollo. A compulsive overachiever with a bursting portfolio of godly duties, the amount of email alone that he receives from rapacious mortals turns each of his days into a living hell. Yet there may be hope, if only he can return Zeus to life! With the aid of Thalia, the muse of comedy and science fiction, Apollo will risk his very godhood to help sarcastic TV producer Tracy Wallace and a gamer-geek named Leif—two mortals who hold the key to Zeus’s resurrection. (Well, probably. Prophecies are tricky buggers.)
Soon an overflowing inbox will be the least of Apollo’s troubles. Whoever murdered Zeus will certainly kill again to prevent his return, and avoiding them would be far easier if Apollo could possibly figure out who they are. Even worse, the muse is starting to get cranky.
Discover a world where reality TV heroes slay actual monsters and the gods have their own Twitter feeds: Zeus Is Dead: A Monstrously Inconvenient Adventure!
Bronze Medalist: 2015 Readers' Favorite Book AwardsFinalist: 2015 Independent Author Network Book of the Year Awards
Zeus Is Dead is available at Amazon

October Frights Blog Hop Winners (And Some Poetry)

The wonderfully fun and creepy October Frights Blog Hop is done, and a grand time was had by all. I'd like to thank the magnificent Clarissa Johal for her stellar job as host, organizer, and writer wrangler.  I'd also like to thank my fellow authors and hoppers, for their tireless efforts, and their amazing blog posts. Their excerpts, tales and stories were entering and terrific.

And now on to the giveaway winners.
Originally I was only going to have one winner of the ebook prize pack, but I had such a good time I'm giving away two prize packs. The winners are:

Susan VossFee Roberts
Congratulations!

And now I will end this October Frights with one last creepy goodbye...

Unhallowed Darkness
Sing the shadows softly sleepWhile the daughtersgently weepBeyond the dark…Beyond the night…
Stir the murkymutely creep With lost promisescalmly keepBeyond the dark…Beyond the night…
The wind, it whisperswide and deepThe breath shall stilldeath will reapBeyond the dark…Beyond the night…

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 


If you didn't win my giveaway, don't despair.The Beyond the Wail Giveaway from Xchyler Publishing is still ongoing.
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October Frights Meets Beyond the Wail

Welcome to the October Frights Blog Hop!
And the Beyond the Wail Blog Tour!

Today, is last day of October Frights, but also the first day of the Beyond the Wail Blog Tour!
So I have a jammed pack post of a spooky spotlight, a review, an interview with one of the authors, Danielle Shipley, two giveaways, and more! Hold on to your hat as I present, the new paranormal anthology from Xchyler Publishing...


Beyond the Wail: 12 Grave Tales of Love and Loss
What is it about fear and the unknown that pulls so passionately at the human heart? Perhaps we are drawn not to the darkness itself, but to the resolution, the overcoming of what we most deeply dread. After all, the more terrible the struggle, the greater the victory when it comes at last. Presented in this anthology are twelve remarkable stories of the darkness that overshadows us, and the resolution that may be found beyond them. They are stories of fear and oppression, but ultimately stories of hope, stories that will take you BEYOND THE WAIL.


Today is the official release of the book!
There are some wonderful stories in this anthology, from a troubled Grim Reaper, mischievous poltergeists, vengeful ghosts, demons, magic, and much more paranormal fun. Here's a quick look and review.

  Beyond the Wail 12 Grave Tales of Love and Loss


OF MICE AND MONSTERS by Tirzah Duncan: Troubled by ghosts within and without, Benjamin struggles to become the man his girlfriend needs instead of the monster he is.
GO GENTLE by Julie Barnson: After the death of her boyfriend, a young musician uses her talents and a fabled violin to stop the fatal accidents at a dead man’s curve.
DEAD WATER by Amanda Banker: A stalled truck, an abandoned graveyard, and a town not found on any map take two brothers on a detour they’ll never forget. 
COLD SPOT by Jay Barnson: When a laptop is stolen from their computer security company, two high school buddies go to extremes to investigate. But, will they manage to return?
THE WEEPING LADY by A. F. Stewart: Eva Douglas must face her mother issues, past and present, when the disappearance of her sister forces a confrontation with a terrifying ghost.
THE POLTERGEIST AND AUNT BETTY by Ginger C. Mann: Aunt Betty is eccentric, but how much is ghost, how much is medication, and how much is just plain crazy?
THE ‘GRIM’ REAPER by L. K. McIntosh: When a soul reaper loses the source of their power,they must either find the witch who stole it or a new purpose for living.
SHRINE OF MIRRORS by F. M. Longo: A spy on a mission becomes a believer in the supernatural when the theft of three ancient relics threaten to bring down the empire.
DEAD MAN HOCKING by T.N. Payne: A world-weary zombie learns to beware what you wish for, and not all sure bets are worth the gamble.
ST. PETER’S FISH by Alex McGilvery: Sam is a walking disaster of biblical proportions, but how much is he willing to sacrifice to escape, and will the Powers That Be allow it?
THE DIORAMA by Sebastian Bendix: A play set turns life around for Martin Taper, but things take a turn for the worse when he neglects it and the lonely child obsessed with it.
DATE DUE by Danielle E. Shipley: A magic library’s guardian determines to protect her treasured books, whether their authors elect to do things the easy way … or the fatal one.





Review of Beyond the Wail:
Since I’m one of the authors, I’m not going to do an in depth review, but rather give you one or two thoughts on each story.
OF MICE AND MONSTERS by Tirzah Duncan: I loved this story. It is powerful, haunting, and so excellently written.
GO GENTLE by Julie Barnson: Soft and sadly sweet, like the music that swirls in the story. I enjoyed it.
DEAD WATER by Amanda Banker: A terrific story, it pulls you in and doesn’t let go. Nicely engaging and chilling.
COLD SPOT by Jay Barnson: A nicely written interdimensional adventure, with some technological twists.
THE WEEPING LADY by A. F. Stewart: What can I say about this one? I wrote it. I like it.
THE POLTERGEIST AND AUNT BETTY by Ginger C. Mann: A quirky little story, amusing, a little disjointed in spots perhaps, but a fun read.
THE ‘GRIM’ REAPER by L. K. McIntosh: An interesting twist on the grim reaper theme, and nicely written. I’m not sure how I feel about the ending, but a great story nonetheless.
SHRINE OF MIRRORS by F. M. Longo: I might be a bit biased with this one, as I’m partial to historical fiction, but the author does a skilful job with the myths, legends and history of feudal Japan.
DEAD MAN HOCKING by T.N. Payne: A good solid zombie tale, very entertaining, and some nice depth of character. I liked it very much.
ST. PETER’S FISH by Alex McGilvery: I found this one delightfully offbeat, a bit surreal and even philosophical.
THE DIORAMA by Sebastian Bendix: This is a quiet story, with a creepy edge that sort of sinks into you as a reader.
DATE DUE by Danielle E. Shipley: This author is fast becoming one of my favourites, and she certainly doesn’t disappoint with this story. She weaves her words in a wonderful spell that creates a mesmerizing fantasy story.

Beyond the Wail is available at
Amazon (Kindle)Amazon (Paperback)GoodreadsXchyler Publishing


Book Trailer



And now for our feature interviewPresenting Danielle E. Shipley,
author of Date Due
1. How did you come up with the concept of your story?
I came across an image accompanied by the phras
2. How did you come up with the title?
I wanted something equal parts library-related and ominous. “Date Due” – the little phrase seen on library book check-out cards/receipts everywhere – fit both criteria to a tee. Like a librarian’s dark day of reckoning.

3. Please provide some insight into or a secret or two about your story.
One of my inspirations was Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart”. Both Poe’s narrator and mine are anonymous – the text never once gives their names – and both insist throughout the story that they’re not insane, despite the fact that they are blatantly out of their minds. And, y’know, they’re both murderers.

4. What was the most surprising part of writing this story?
It was slightly slow going, for a short story of mine. I can normally knock out a story of this length in a day or two, but this one took me ten. My narrator would not be rushed. She wanted to give me her tale just so, and in her own sweet time.

5. What was the hardest part of writing your story, and how did you overcome it?
The hardest part was titling all of the books the narrator called out by name. Coming up with a title is hard enough for me when I’m familiar with the story in question. To name a book I’ve never read? Horror! Fortunately, once I’d gotten a first draft out of the way, with “[TITLE]” acting as a placeholder wherever necessary, a couple of my best pals were willing to toss out some random options, and I picked and tweaked my favorites from the list to insert into the blank spaces.


Danielle's just for fun nerd Q&A:

Star Wars or Star Trek?
Not into either one. Sci-fi doesn’t generally do it for me.

Hunger Games or Divergent?
I’ve yet to read any of the Divergent books, but the Hunger Games trilogy made an impression on me, for sure.

James Bond or Jack Ryan?
Which one’s closer to Galahad from “Kingsman”? Or Carmen Sandiego?

Sherlock: Robert Downey, Jr. or Benedict Cumberbatch?
Very much enjoyed what RDJ brought to the table, but I’ve got to give this one to Cumberbatch. All my love to BBC’s Sherlock!

Spock: Leonard Nimoy or Zachary Quinto?
Aaaand we’re back to the final frontier. I respectfully abstain.               

X-Men or Avengers?
Mad love for the X-Men, but come on. The Avengers have Captain America. Forgive me, mutants!

Aliens or Predators?
I’d prefer to be preyed upon by neither.

Minions or Penguins?
I’m not sure how far either one would assist my rise to evil overlordship, but I think I liked the trailer for the penguins’ movie better, so we’ll go with that.

Batman or Superman?
Batman. Because we are the night.

Harry Potter or Pirates of the Caribbean?
ARRRRGH! *hoists the colors* *releases the Kraken* *drinks up, me hearties, yo ho* …Which is to say, PotC all the way.

Beatles or Rolling Stones?
Not sure I could even name a single Rolling Stone song. Beatles by default, then?

Peter Jackson or James Cameron?
Raising my glass to he who took me to Middle Earth and back again. Thanks, Mr. Jackson!

Steven Spielberg or George Lucas?
*flips a coin* Spielberg.

Vampires or Werewolves?
I consider vampires to be the more intriguing “what if…?” of a monster.

LARP or MORPG?
I’m told that the socializing I do with my characters on a daily basis counts as a live-action roleplay, so we’ve got ourselves a no-brainer!


DANIELLE E. SHIPLEY
Danielle E. Shipley’s first novelettes told the everyday misadventures of wacky kids like herself. . . . Or so she thought. Unbeknownst to them all, half of her characters were actually closeted elves, dwarves, fairies, or some combination thereof. When it all came to light, Danielle did the sensible thing: packed up and moved to Fantasy Land, where daily rent is the low, low price of her heart, soul, blood, sweat, tears, firstborn child, sanity, and words; lots of them. She’s also been known to spend short bursts of time in the real-life Chicago area with the parents who home schooled her and the two little sisters who keep her humble.
You can find Danielle about and about the internet at these social media links:
Website  Blog  Twitter  Goodreads  Pinterest  Amazon
~*~




Ebook Giveawaya Rafflecopter giveaway
Today you get another contest! Here's the Xchyler Publishing Rafflecopter giveaway for Beyond the Wail.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

I’ll be picking the winners in my ebook giveaway tomorrow (and most likely will be posting the name here on my blog tomorrow as well). Xchyler Publishing will be picking its own winners, and they will be contacted after the end of their giveaway.

Book Release Blog Tour
Featured Author: Danielle E. Shipley Saturday, October 10, 2015 Are you Afraid of the Dark?
 John's Writing
 Spreading the Writer's WordFeatured Author: Alex McGilvery Sunday, October 11, 2015  Ash Krafton: Emotion Between the Lines
  Scott E. Tarbet, Author
  Writer's Law of Motion Featured Author: T.N. PAYNE Monday, October 12, 2015 Melissa McShane, 
 Author Sarah's Secret Stash
 Notes from Author Ginger C. Mann Featured Author: Ginger C. Mann Tuesday, October 13, 2015  L.K. McIntosh
  J S Brown
  Fairies & Pirates Featured Author: L.K. McIntosh Wednesday, October 14, 2015  Rampant Games
  Scotty Watty Doodle All The Day
  Terra Luft — View From the Crystal Ball Featured Author: Jay Barnson Thursday, October 15, 2015  A Storyteller's Journey
  Creativity from Chaos
  Christine HaggertyFeatured Author: A. F. Stewart Friday, October 16, 2015  Tales by Julie
  Perpetual Chaos of a Wandering MindFeatured Author: Amanda Banker Saturday, October 17, 2015  Sebastian Bendix
  Alex Campbell
  Semi Short chicFeatured Author: Julie Barnson Sunday, October 18, 2015  The Ink Caster
  The Road to NowhereFeatured Author: Sebastian Bendix Monday, October 19, 2015  The J. Aurel Guay Archive
  :DandiFluff...Featured Author: Tirzah Duncan Tuesday, October 20, 2015  Alex McGilvery's World
  A.M.HarteFeatured Author: F.M. Longo Wednesday, October 21, 2015  Ever On Word
  The Cult of Me

And be sure to give our October Frights bloggers list one last whirl:



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