K.L. Hallam's Blog, page 19
September 21, 2015
MG Book Cover Reveal & Giveaway
How Adorable is this!
The Case of the Washed-Up Warlock (Poison Ivy Charm School #2)by author: Patrice Lyle Publisher: Leap Books Release date: October 5, 2015
When thirteen-year-old Tulip Bonnaire’s super-cute crush, Dexter, is threatened with expulsion from Poison Ivy Charm School, she can’t help but take the case. Someone has put a spell on Garrett’s Levitation skills and all the evidence, including the testimony of a sea hag stone, points to Dex. Tulip can’t imagine Poison Ivy without him, so she’s intent on proving his innocence. But that means delving into an old secret to find out who turned Garrett into a washed-up warlock.
Goodreads Link Goodreads Giveaway
Author Bio: Patrice Lyle has never met a ghost story she didn’t like. She’s been fascinated with the paranormal since childhood. She attributes this fascination to having heard old family stories of ghostly wreaths, ESP, and money hidden in the lining of antique purses. She grew up on the Oregon Coast and has a Master’s Degree in Writing Popular Fiction. Now she lives with her husband and two cats on Florida’s Space Coast, where she’s working on her next novel under an umbrella on the beach. For more information, please visit her website at www.patricebooks.com.
Congratulations, Patrice!
September 17, 2015
EXPOSED by Judith Graves (Retribution Trilogy) Booktrailer
This is amazing you guys! My editor, Judith Graves, at Leap Books made this book trailer.
And guess what? She helped make my book trailer for The Unmoving Sky.
And it's Coming Soon!
You can watch the trailer for EXPOSED of the Retribution Trilogy here, from award-winning writer, editor extraordinaire, and did I mention her haunting singing and musical deftness. She's the bomb! You want to read this. PreOrder Retribution.
EXPOSED by Judith Graves
Part of RETRIBUTION—a high-interest trilogy that can be read in any order: BURNED, EXPOSED, UNLEASHED - from Orca Book Publishers and launching October 2015.
Raven is cunning, aggressive and whip-smart—she’s had to be to survive. She was taken in at a young age by the boss of a car-theft ring, who rescued her from a life of hell.
For too long she’s believed she owes him everything and used her uncanny urban climbing skills to train young recruits for what she believes are victimless crimes. Until Raven discovers that his compassion for the kids he wrangles into the ring is just a front, and they are all merely tools of his trade, nothing more.
When he’s responsible for the death of Raven’s young “apprentice,” she finally sees him for what he really is—and sets out to bring him down.
September 15, 2015
A Blurb for my YA Suspense, Novella, The Unmoving Sky.
photo credit: me! There is nothing darker than the woods, until you meet your worst fear.Jackson Bower has a lot on his mind lately. His younger brother hasn’t been the same since his mother’s death. His father’s drinking is out of control. Then there’s Jackson’s girlfriend and the grief that ties them together even as it threatens to drive them apart.He distances himself, hoping for a little perspective at the family lodge. But when their father gets drunk and dangerous, he and his brother escape into the woods.Night creeps in, and the rains come fast. Artie slips down a ravine. He’s wounded and the brothers seek shelter in a cave, only to find someone else already taking refuge there.A desperate man with plans to destroy their town.Jackson must get him and his wounded brother out of the cave and over the mountain to warn everyone in time. Without getting them both killed first.
THE UNMOVING SKY on Goodreads available in the Spring of 2016 from my publisher Leap/Shine Books. The book cover is on the way and we've been busy making a book trailer. With the help of friends and my beyond talented editor, Judith Graves. My dear friend, Bruce Edwards of Darktone Music, went beyond what we expected, creating a stunning soundtrack, and I can't wait to share it.
Add My YA Suspense, The Unmoving Sky to your TBR!
photo credit: me! The blurb: THE UNMOVING SKYThere is nothing darker than the woods until you meet your worst fear.Jackson Bower has a lot on his mind lately. His younger brother hasn’t been the same since his mother’s death. His father’s drinking is out of control. Then there’s Jackson’s girlfriend and the grief that ties them together even as it threatens to drive them apart.He distances himself, hoping for a little perspective at the family lodge. But when their father gets drunk and dangerous, he and his brother escape into the woods.Night creeps in, and the rains come fast. Artie slips down a ravine. He’s wounded and the brothers seek shelter in a cave, only to find someone else already taking refuge there.A desperate man with plans to destroy their town.Jackson must get him and his wounded brother out of the cave and over the mountain to warn everyone in time. Without getting them both killed first.
THE UNMOVING SKY on Goodreads available in the Spring of 2016 from my publisher Leap/Shine Books. The book cover is on the way and we've been busy making a book trailer. With the help of friends and my beyond talented editor, Judith Graves. My dear friend, Bruce Edwards of Darktone Music, went beyond what we expected, creating a stunning soundtrack, and I can't wait to share it.
August 27, 2015
Writerly field trips: StoryLines at the Guggenheim.
I live in New York City. It's great--so much to do, culturally, and otherwise. But I began to realize how much I was missing out, being so busy writing, day and into evenings on some nights.
So, I decided I had to get out! I had to visit more museums. Write my impressions. Use the narrative of the artwork and describe what it means to me.
Sounds like a plan, right? Here's my first step.
The Storylines exhibit at the Guggenheim inspired this. My favorite artist, at the exhibit was Agnieszka Kurant . . . for Phantom Library.
Phantom Library by artist, Agnieszka Kurant
I found a book by Kilgore Trout! So tickled over this.Vonnegut fans will know.
"Agnieszka Kurant's work uses material from fictional or invisible constructions of social, economic, and political systems that produce a form of value that she has termed "phantom capital". This network of historic, scientific, geographic, and aesthetic references is the foundation for collective cultural authorship in which truth and myth--both valid ways of interpreting societal conditions--are inextricable...."
" . . . Though the volumes remain largely blank inside, certain pages of select book are interleaved with black-and-white images that depict stars and planets in space, alluding to the expansive possibilities of realizing the unreal and to the insignificance of the individual amid greater forces."
You can still catch it through September 9th. Go! It might even help you write a new narrative.
More museum trips to follow. I for one, can't wait.
So, I decided I had to get out! I had to visit more museums. Write my impressions. Use the narrative of the artwork and describe what it means to me.
Sounds like a plan, right? Here's my first step.
The Storylines exhibit at the Guggenheim inspired this. My favorite artist, at the exhibit was Agnieszka Kurant . . . for Phantom Library.
Phantom Library by artist, Agnieszka Kurant 
I found a book by Kilgore Trout! So tickled over this.Vonnegut fans will know. 
"Agnieszka Kurant's work uses material from fictional or invisible constructions of social, economic, and political systems that produce a form of value that she has termed "phantom capital". This network of historic, scientific, geographic, and aesthetic references is the foundation for collective cultural authorship in which truth and myth--both valid ways of interpreting societal conditions--are inextricable...."
" . . . Though the volumes remain largely blank inside, certain pages of select book are interleaved with black-and-white images that depict stars and planets in space, alluding to the expansive possibilities of realizing the unreal and to the insignificance of the individual amid greater forces."
You can still catch it through September 9th. Go! It might even help you write a new narrative.
More museum trips to follow. I for one, can't wait.
August 10, 2015
Boys and Books.
My seventeen-year-old and his father, my most awesome partner. This photo was a long time coming. My son has struggled with dyslexia and today he's reading with interest. A Streetcar Named Desire, because acting has lured him in, reluctantly. But we are progressing forward. I still read to my sons aloud. Because we love family gathering and cuddling time. I've read to my boys since they were in utero. Habits of love. Though it was quite the uphill struggle.
This picture represents progress. Yay!
This picture represents progress. Yay!
August 5, 2015
Reaching Teen Readers.
How can authors writing MG or YA reach readers in this budding electronic age?
Out for a bike ride with my sons in NYC. Notice the electronic device .... SMH
I’ve read that for many teen girls reading is still a favorite pastime. Boys are reading, too, but many are more likely reading game manuals on how to get to the next level. That’s what my teen boys read. One son has struggled with reading all his life. Though, like many boys, he enjoyed reading non-fiction because of his immense interest in the natural world. My younger son prefers one type of genre: high fantasy and will read through a whole series if it interests him and more.
So how do we reach our readers? Most middle-grade books have gatekeepers: parents, teachers, and librarians. They do a great job. Just make sure your book is PG if you want their approval. But as our children grow, stretching their boundaries what are their eyes glued to? Snapchat? How many of you are posting 24-hour stories for the YA demographic on there?
Are you on YouTube? What are kids most interested in watching, that relates to the product you're selling? – And it won't be me playing a video game. My fourteen-year-old did this for a while (and probably still does) I couldn’t believe he was entertained enough watching someone else play a beloved video game. It’s a new world, people. An up close and personal world. Microscopic.
Know your audience. Are they the 11-14-year-old readers, 15-19 year-olds? Where do they hang out?
Is your blog devoted to readers or writers?
What talents aside from writing are under your belt? How can you share this to help create a band of followers? This is something I need to explore. Here's an example of what I planned for my first novel that never sold.
For this middle-grade about a 12-year-old healer and herbalist, I’d planned to attend crafts fairs and/or give instructions on how to make your own medicines from plants growing wild, called weeds to some. Another plan was to show kids how to use the Tarot cards (which are woven into the narrative). I’ve studied the Tarot for over 20 years. *Bonus, they’re great device to help craft a story if you’re ever stuck. Every Tarot reader reads the cards differently. Depends on how they see the cards. Another way I thought to reach readers was with a blog where the 12-year-old MC reads from her diary. (somewhat cliche there, I know) Alas, this project is on hold in a very deep drawer.
How do you find your mailing lists if your fans are under the age of 18? Some states have laws for marketing to the underage. Like this: Maine Makes Marketing To Minors “Predatory”
We could reach them with the Theater. My older, dyslexic son, is reading now that he’s a budding thespian and must memorize scripts. (Yes!)
Think about what you loved doing or creating when you were a young reader.Maybe you loved the theater, directed everyone, and used the GREASE photonovel as a script ....? Yes, I did.
What themes are in your book? Maybe sites specific to those themes, or perhaps you could Snapchat yourself doing whatever that is?In my ms #1 the MC learns to ride a dirt bike (a green witch biker, yeah!) -- BMX resources, anyone? Guess I’d have to seek out sources and fans of the BMX biking world.
Next Spring my contemporary, suspense novella The Unmoving Sky, launches with Leap Book. An ebook that will also be available in print. It has a male POV with hunting as the backdrop (not the focus). I certainly won’t be hanging around any gun shows for an audience. But something along those lines might get a tug of interest. The story takes place in the woods during a deluge. So I might find some common ground with my knowledge of healing plants in the wild. Maybe? I’ve started a Pinterest board and I intend to post a playlist with music relating to the book.
I’m just beginning this journey. Is there anything you'd like to share about how you found your teen readers? What was your experience using: Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, YouTube, Snapchat? (deep breath) Before I finish this post there could be several more social media outlets. It’s quite mind-boggling and with their endless possibilities, exciting. The media sites can be a lot of fun. Engage with readers? I cannot wait. I love to engage, online and in any line, wherever I have to wait.
As a last note: Alison Presley, online marketing manager at Chronicle Books says, “At one point, social media was seen as a ‘nice to have’ by authors. It’s not a ‘nice to have’ anymore. Fans really expect to have that direct connection to authors.”
From this Publishers Weekly article: Teenage Tweetland
Resources:Realistic Ideas to Get Teens Reading: From ScholasticTeen Space: A resource for junior high and high school students.Though the site is permanently closed, there's still a wealth of resources available for readers.
Teen writer’s workshops are great! Let’s act out the plays/skits our teens write. Nothing could be more powerful that to see others acting out your plots, ideas, and characters.
Out for a bike ride with my sons in NYC. Notice the electronic device .... SMHI’ve read that for many teen girls reading is still a favorite pastime. Boys are reading, too, but many are more likely reading game manuals on how to get to the next level. That’s what my teen boys read. One son has struggled with reading all his life. Though, like many boys, he enjoyed reading non-fiction because of his immense interest in the natural world. My younger son prefers one type of genre: high fantasy and will read through a whole series if it interests him and more.
So how do we reach our readers? Most middle-grade books have gatekeepers: parents, teachers, and librarians. They do a great job. Just make sure your book is PG if you want their approval. But as our children grow, stretching their boundaries what are their eyes glued to? Snapchat? How many of you are posting 24-hour stories for the YA demographic on there?
Are you on YouTube? What are kids most interested in watching, that relates to the product you're selling? – And it won't be me playing a video game. My fourteen-year-old did this for a while (and probably still does) I couldn’t believe he was entertained enough watching someone else play a beloved video game. It’s a new world, people. An up close and personal world. Microscopic.
Know your audience. Are they the 11-14-year-old readers, 15-19 year-olds? Where do they hang out?
Is your blog devoted to readers or writers?
What talents aside from writing are under your belt? How can you share this to help create a band of followers? This is something I need to explore. Here's an example of what I planned for my first novel that never sold.
For this middle-grade about a 12-year-old healer and herbalist, I’d planned to attend crafts fairs and/or give instructions on how to make your own medicines from plants growing wild, called weeds to some. Another plan was to show kids how to use the Tarot cards (which are woven into the narrative). I’ve studied the Tarot for over 20 years. *Bonus, they’re great device to help craft a story if you’re ever stuck. Every Tarot reader reads the cards differently. Depends on how they see the cards. Another way I thought to reach readers was with a blog where the 12-year-old MC reads from her diary. (somewhat cliche there, I know) Alas, this project is on hold in a very deep drawer.
How do you find your mailing lists if your fans are under the age of 18? Some states have laws for marketing to the underage. Like this: Maine Makes Marketing To Minors “Predatory”
We could reach them with the Theater. My older, dyslexic son, is reading now that he’s a budding thespian and must memorize scripts. (Yes!)
Think about what you loved doing or creating when you were a young reader.Maybe you loved the theater, directed everyone, and used the GREASE photonovel as a script ....? Yes, I did.
What themes are in your book? Maybe sites specific to those themes, or perhaps you could Snapchat yourself doing whatever that is?In my ms #1 the MC learns to ride a dirt bike (a green witch biker, yeah!) -- BMX resources, anyone? Guess I’d have to seek out sources and fans of the BMX biking world.
Next Spring my contemporary, suspense novella The Unmoving Sky, launches with Leap Book. An ebook that will also be available in print. It has a male POV with hunting as the backdrop (not the focus). I certainly won’t be hanging around any gun shows for an audience. But something along those lines might get a tug of interest. The story takes place in the woods during a deluge. So I might find some common ground with my knowledge of healing plants in the wild. Maybe? I’ve started a Pinterest board and I intend to post a playlist with music relating to the book.
I’m just beginning this journey. Is there anything you'd like to share about how you found your teen readers? What was your experience using: Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, YouTube, Snapchat? (deep breath) Before I finish this post there could be several more social media outlets. It’s quite mind-boggling and with their endless possibilities, exciting. The media sites can be a lot of fun. Engage with readers? I cannot wait. I love to engage, online and in any line, wherever I have to wait.
As a last note: Alison Presley, online marketing manager at Chronicle Books says, “At one point, social media was seen as a ‘nice to have’ by authors. It’s not a ‘nice to have’ anymore. Fans really expect to have that direct connection to authors.”
From this Publishers Weekly article: Teenage Tweetland
Resources:Realistic Ideas to Get Teens Reading: From ScholasticTeen Space: A resource for junior high and high school students.Though the site is permanently closed, there's still a wealth of resources available for readers.
Teen writer’s workshops are great! Let’s act out the plays/skits our teens write. Nothing could be more powerful that to see others acting out your plots, ideas, and characters.
July 23, 2015
Cover Reveal & giveaway: A HOLD ON ME by Pat Esden
I'm very excited and honored to host Pat Esden's cover reveal and book giveaway here on my blog!
This sound so good friends. Ancestral home on the coast of Maine . . . and secrets . . . atmospheric and creepy. I cannot wait to read this!
A HOLD ON ME (Dark Heart Book #1) by Pat Esden
Kensington BooksRelease date: March 2016
BLURB:
She never wanted to return. He wants nothing more than for her to leave. But the fire between them is as strong as the past that haunts them.
Annie Freemont grew up on the road, immersed in the romance of rare things, cultivating an eye for artifacts and a spirit for bargaining. It’s a freewheeling life she loves and plans to continue—until her dad is diagnosed with dementia. His illness forces them to return to Moonhill, their ancestral home on the coast of Maine—and to the family they left behind fifteen years ago, after Annie’s mother died in a suspicious accident.
Once at Moonhill, Annie is shocked when her aunt separates her from her father. The next time Annie sees him, he’s a bizarre, violent shadow of his former self. Confused, she turns to an unlikely ally for support—Chase, the dangerously seductive young groundskeeper. With his dark good looks and powerful presence, Chase has an air of mystery that Annie is irresistibly drawn to. But she also senses that behind his penetrating eyes are secrets she can’t even begin to imagine. Secrets that hold the key to the past, to Annie’s own longings—and to all of their futures. Now, to unlock them, she’ll have to face her greatest fears and embrace her legacy…
Click here to add A HOLD ON ME on Goodreads:
PRE-ORDER NOW! IndieboundAmazonB&NBooks-A-Million
PAT ESDEN would love to say she spent her childhood in intellectual pursuits. The truth is she was fonder of exploring abandoned houses and old cemeteries. When not out on her own adventures, she can be found in her northern Vermont home writing stories about brave, smart women and the men who capture their hearts. An antique-dealing florist by trade, she’s also a member of Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and the League of Vermont Writers. Her short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society’s Mythic Circle literary magazine, and George H. Scither’s anthology Cat Tales.
GIVEAWAY!
Check out the fantastic giveaway on Pat’s Facebook page. Chances to win an Alex and Ani Path Of Life Heart Charm Bangle, or Amazon gift certificates. Easy to enter! WEBSITE TWITTER: @patesdenTUMBLRPat's Blog
#NAparanormal #Gothic
This sound so good friends. Ancestral home on the coast of Maine . . . and secrets . . . atmospheric and creepy. I cannot wait to read this!
A HOLD ON ME (Dark Heart Book #1) by Pat Esden
Kensington BooksRelease date: March 2016BLURB:
She never wanted to return. He wants nothing more than for her to leave. But the fire between them is as strong as the past that haunts them.
Annie Freemont grew up on the road, immersed in the romance of rare things, cultivating an eye for artifacts and a spirit for bargaining. It’s a freewheeling life she loves and plans to continue—until her dad is diagnosed with dementia. His illness forces them to return to Moonhill, their ancestral home on the coast of Maine—and to the family they left behind fifteen years ago, after Annie’s mother died in a suspicious accident.
Once at Moonhill, Annie is shocked when her aunt separates her from her father. The next time Annie sees him, he’s a bizarre, violent shadow of his former self. Confused, she turns to an unlikely ally for support—Chase, the dangerously seductive young groundskeeper. With his dark good looks and powerful presence, Chase has an air of mystery that Annie is irresistibly drawn to. But she also senses that behind his penetrating eyes are secrets she can’t even begin to imagine. Secrets that hold the key to the past, to Annie’s own longings—and to all of their futures. Now, to unlock them, she’ll have to face her greatest fears and embrace her legacy…
Click here to add A HOLD ON ME on Goodreads:
PRE-ORDER NOW! IndieboundAmazonB&NBooks-A-Million
PAT ESDEN would love to say she spent her childhood in intellectual pursuits. The truth is she was fonder of exploring abandoned houses and old cemeteries. When not out on her own adventures, she can be found in her northern Vermont home writing stories about brave, smart women and the men who capture their hearts. An antique-dealing florist by trade, she’s also a member of Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and the League of Vermont Writers. Her short stories have appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society’s Mythic Circle literary magazine, and George H. Scither’s anthology Cat Tales.
GIVEAWAY!
Check out the fantastic giveaway on Pat’s Facebook page. Chances to win an Alex and Ani Path Of Life Heart Charm Bangle, or Amazon gift certificates. Easy to enter! WEBSITE TWITTER: @patesdenTUMBLRPat's Blog
#NAparanormal #Gothic
July 22, 2015
My Post on Reaching Readers at Summer Camp . . .
Can be found today on the blog Kidliterati
How do you find young readers? I found some amazing kids at ChessNYC.
How do you find young readers? I found some amazing kids at ChessNYC.
July 7, 2015
Ghost Stories: The Cellar...a short story.
While I'm between manuscripts or if a project is with beta readers I try and stay fluid by writing short stories.
The Cellar is the first in a collection I'm currently revising. All the tales take place in a room or "space" of some sort. And while I wait for news I hope to announce very soon, I'll entertain myself writing 1k shorts. My novel needs more head space. I have ten of these to revise: The department store, an alley, the computer, etc., trying to create something a little shifted.
The Cellar
“Momma. What’s that sound?”“Must be the skis in the cellar. . . . .again." Uneasy, Mrs. Halloman stood up from the couch, leaving her ten-year-old daughter to watch TV. Reassured her that it was nothing, once again, then moved to find out for sure.She went to the basement door. Held the handle, and waited. She turned the knob. Darkness was before her. She switched the light on and proceeded down the steps.“What is it, momma?” Kaitlin stood at the top.“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll see if the skis fell and make sure they didn’t fall on the rabbits.“Can I come?”“Just wait here, and switch the light on if it goes out.”“Okaaay.”Kaitlin’s breath was heavy behind her. The humidity had brought on her daughter’s asthma. She labored for each breath. Mrs. Halloman continued and walked the fifteen steps to the bottom.The light went out. “Kaitlin!”“Got it!”They were back on.Ever since the Halloman family moved into Essex 105, the blackouts were frequent. Not unheard of in the windy mountains of Western Pennsylvania, but on some days, even if it wasn’t windy the lights went out. And no amount of fuse flipping brought them back. On two occasions while the neighbor’s lights went out during a storm, the lights at 105 Essex would be on. And vise versa. As if 105 Essex had its own energy supply.At the bottom, Mrs. Halloman walked around the hidden corner and could hear the rabbits munching. Not sure why she kept them in the basement instead of the art shack out back. It was warmer there. The rabbits looked up at her with their usual nervous twitches, one finishing a carrot and not the least bit disturbed about anything unnatural.BANG!She jumped. “Kaitlin, are you all right?”“Yes, momma. Are Pinkie and Peppy, OK?” Looking around for the piece of furniture or athletic accessory that had fallen, and satisfied all was fine she reached into the pen and picked up Pinkie, the white rabbit with brown patches.“Can I see the bunnies?” Kaitlin called down. “Please?”“Sure, come on, just watch your step.”Kaitlin was next to her before she turned and put Pinkie back in his corral.“I’ve got, Pinkie.” She hugged, his neck stretching away from her, a leg far separated from the others.“Not too long. Your asthma’s already kicking up.”Kaitlin nodded. “And Peppy, I don’t want you to get jealous.” She replaced Pinkie in favor of Peppy.Mrs. Halloman moved away from the pen, and over to where the recent sound of falling objects came.
Not only did their new house enjoy its own light display it seemed to try its hand at redecorating. Favoring the basement for its antics. As suspected, the line-up of skis had fallen on top of the hockey equipment set aside for the season. Her husband and son were out for the evening enjoying a ballgame. With the unexpected storm coming, they could be home soon. She almost wished they were.Something caught her eye. Movement?But it was nothing, only her imagination.She lifted the skis; glad to have moved the rabbits days ago. From where she stood she couldn’t see the rabbits or Kaitlin. She finished and moved toward the tiny dark window at the farthest wall of the cellar. It was open. She shook her head. “Must have been a raccoon,” she whispered, turning the knob until the window squeaked shut. “There.”She went back to Kaitlin.I wonder if raccoons would hurt the rabbits? She made a mental note to take the bunnies out of the basement tomorrow morning.Kaitlin?Where were the rabbits?“Kaitlin, you can’t take the rabbits upstairs,” she called, walking up the steps. “Not now, please. I didn’t put Edgar away. Can you get the leash . . .” As she reached the second to the top step. SLAM.The basement door shut. “Kaitlin, the door!” She twisted and turned the knob. It was locked. “Kaitlin!”The lights in the basement flickered. “Not again,” she groaned. “Kaitlin! Open this door right now!” She knocked, knocking harder and harder.No answer.Mrs. Halloman raced down the steps and over to the back exit when she noticed the small window open. Again? Her first thought: a raccoon is in the basement. “Ridiculous, a raccoon could not swivel the window open — in ten minutes at that.” Her heart raced. She tried to swallow, but her throat closed, dry. She coughed, almost choking.She reached basement exit. Lifted the metal bar up and over and unlocked the bolt, but she could not push the door open. She banged. Who could hear her outside with only the woods for miles? And Kaitlin? Wasn’t answering her calls. Not unusual if she went to her bedroom with the rabbits. Sweat rose over her lip. The air siphoned away. There was no exit from the back door. She turned and ran up the staircase entrance.The blender was on. Or was it the juicer? “Kaitlin!” she yelled.She pounded on the door until her knuckles cracked and splintered in red. She knocked until her hand numbed. She kept knocking.
And she stopped; slid her back down the cellar door, exasperated, and listened to each and every electrical appliance grind and whirl.
The basement lights popped. Darkness folded into every crease and crevice. Grinding motors grew deafening. “Kaitlin . . . ,” she whispered. Her watch read 9:00. Her husband would be home soon. Kaitlin was playing in her bedroom with the rabbits, two flights up, and being a very bad girl. No excuse for this, even if Kaitlin wasn’t feeling well. “Kaitlin,” she whispered, knocking, a last time. Her head fell against the door. The whirling and grinding continued.Suddenly the house became silent. Halted.Mrs. Halloman looked at her watch: 9:30.Something rattled at the foot of the steps under the newspapers. She made her way toward the sound feeling along the wall. The rabbits must be here. The crackling papers became louder. “Kaitlin?”The lights went on.A willowy shadow wavered before her.She screamed and turned, running up the steps.The door flew open.
“What are you doing down there?”“Harold!” They half-embraced. “Shut the door”SLAM.“Where’s Kaitlin?”“She isn’t with you?”“In her room!” Mrs. Halloman ran up the second level. “Kaitlin?”“Hi mom.” It was Jack.“Where’s Kate?”“Dunno?”“You didn’t see her?”She raced from room to room calling her daughter’s name. Kaitlin’s room was empty. The lights off. She hadn’t been there at all. Perspiration rose, encasing her in heat. A sickening malaise gripped her throat. Confused, she couldn’t breath. Harold looked under the furniture saying, “She’s only hiding somewhere.”Mrs. Halloman passed the large bay window facing the woods and caught a glimpse of pink. She ran outside. “Kaitlin!” Ran down the deck side. Her daughter was walking into the woods and didn’t take notice of her calls. “Kaitlin!” she kept calling until she was beside her.
She put a hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”Kaitlin turned around, covered in mud and twigs. “What’s going on?” she asked her daughter. looking into her distant eyes. “He told me to set the rabbits free. . . In the woods.”She pulled her daughter close to her heart and began to cry. “Is that where they are now? In the woods?”Kaitlin nodded, hidden under her embrace.Mrs. Halloman let out a breath and looked for her husband standing on the deck. She could see the cellar’s back door. The lights were on.
And a dark silhouette stood there as if it waited. Waited for its next request to be fulfilled.
The Cellar is the first in a collection I'm currently revising. All the tales take place in a room or "space" of some sort. And while I wait for news I hope to announce very soon, I'll entertain myself writing 1k shorts. My novel needs more head space. I have ten of these to revise: The department store, an alley, the computer, etc., trying to create something a little shifted.
The Cellar
“Momma. What’s that sound?”“Must be the skis in the cellar. . . . .again." Uneasy, Mrs. Halloman stood up from the couch, leaving her ten-year-old daughter to watch TV. Reassured her that it was nothing, once again, then moved to find out for sure.She went to the basement door. Held the handle, and waited. She turned the knob. Darkness was before her. She switched the light on and proceeded down the steps.“What is it, momma?” Kaitlin stood at the top.“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll see if the skis fell and make sure they didn’t fall on the rabbits.“Can I come?”“Just wait here, and switch the light on if it goes out.”“Okaaay.”Kaitlin’s breath was heavy behind her. The humidity had brought on her daughter’s asthma. She labored for each breath. Mrs. Halloman continued and walked the fifteen steps to the bottom.The light went out. “Kaitlin!”“Got it!”They were back on.Ever since the Halloman family moved into Essex 105, the blackouts were frequent. Not unheard of in the windy mountains of Western Pennsylvania, but on some days, even if it wasn’t windy the lights went out. And no amount of fuse flipping brought them back. On two occasions while the neighbor’s lights went out during a storm, the lights at 105 Essex would be on. And vise versa. As if 105 Essex had its own energy supply.At the bottom, Mrs. Halloman walked around the hidden corner and could hear the rabbits munching. Not sure why she kept them in the basement instead of the art shack out back. It was warmer there. The rabbits looked up at her with their usual nervous twitches, one finishing a carrot and not the least bit disturbed about anything unnatural.BANG!She jumped. “Kaitlin, are you all right?”“Yes, momma. Are Pinkie and Peppy, OK?” Looking around for the piece of furniture or athletic accessory that had fallen, and satisfied all was fine she reached into the pen and picked up Pinkie, the white rabbit with brown patches.“Can I see the bunnies?” Kaitlin called down. “Please?”“Sure, come on, just watch your step.”Kaitlin was next to her before she turned and put Pinkie back in his corral.“I’ve got, Pinkie.” She hugged, his neck stretching away from her, a leg far separated from the others.“Not too long. Your asthma’s already kicking up.”Kaitlin nodded. “And Peppy, I don’t want you to get jealous.” She replaced Pinkie in favor of Peppy.Mrs. Halloman moved away from the pen, and over to where the recent sound of falling objects came.
Not only did their new house enjoy its own light display it seemed to try its hand at redecorating. Favoring the basement for its antics. As suspected, the line-up of skis had fallen on top of the hockey equipment set aside for the season. Her husband and son were out for the evening enjoying a ballgame. With the unexpected storm coming, they could be home soon. She almost wished they were.Something caught her eye. Movement?But it was nothing, only her imagination.She lifted the skis; glad to have moved the rabbits days ago. From where she stood she couldn’t see the rabbits or Kaitlin. She finished and moved toward the tiny dark window at the farthest wall of the cellar. It was open. She shook her head. “Must have been a raccoon,” she whispered, turning the knob until the window squeaked shut. “There.”She went back to Kaitlin.I wonder if raccoons would hurt the rabbits? She made a mental note to take the bunnies out of the basement tomorrow morning.Kaitlin?Where were the rabbits?“Kaitlin, you can’t take the rabbits upstairs,” she called, walking up the steps. “Not now, please. I didn’t put Edgar away. Can you get the leash . . .” As she reached the second to the top step. SLAM.The basement door shut. “Kaitlin, the door!” She twisted and turned the knob. It was locked. “Kaitlin!”The lights in the basement flickered. “Not again,” she groaned. “Kaitlin! Open this door right now!” She knocked, knocking harder and harder.No answer.Mrs. Halloman raced down the steps and over to the back exit when she noticed the small window open. Again? Her first thought: a raccoon is in the basement. “Ridiculous, a raccoon could not swivel the window open — in ten minutes at that.” Her heart raced. She tried to swallow, but her throat closed, dry. She coughed, almost choking.She reached basement exit. Lifted the metal bar up and over and unlocked the bolt, but she could not push the door open. She banged. Who could hear her outside with only the woods for miles? And Kaitlin? Wasn’t answering her calls. Not unusual if she went to her bedroom with the rabbits. Sweat rose over her lip. The air siphoned away. There was no exit from the back door. She turned and ran up the staircase entrance.The blender was on. Or was it the juicer? “Kaitlin!” she yelled.She pounded on the door until her knuckles cracked and splintered in red. She knocked until her hand numbed. She kept knocking.
And she stopped; slid her back down the cellar door, exasperated, and listened to each and every electrical appliance grind and whirl.
The basement lights popped. Darkness folded into every crease and crevice. Grinding motors grew deafening. “Kaitlin . . . ,” she whispered. Her watch read 9:00. Her husband would be home soon. Kaitlin was playing in her bedroom with the rabbits, two flights up, and being a very bad girl. No excuse for this, even if Kaitlin wasn’t feeling well. “Kaitlin,” she whispered, knocking, a last time. Her head fell against the door. The whirling and grinding continued.Suddenly the house became silent. Halted.Mrs. Halloman looked at her watch: 9:30.Something rattled at the foot of the steps under the newspapers. She made her way toward the sound feeling along the wall. The rabbits must be here. The crackling papers became louder. “Kaitlin?”The lights went on.A willowy shadow wavered before her.She screamed and turned, running up the steps.The door flew open.
“What are you doing down there?”“Harold!” They half-embraced. “Shut the door”SLAM.“Where’s Kaitlin?”“She isn’t with you?”“In her room!” Mrs. Halloman ran up the second level. “Kaitlin?”“Hi mom.” It was Jack.“Where’s Kate?”“Dunno?”“You didn’t see her?”She raced from room to room calling her daughter’s name. Kaitlin’s room was empty. The lights off. She hadn’t been there at all. Perspiration rose, encasing her in heat. A sickening malaise gripped her throat. Confused, she couldn’t breath. Harold looked under the furniture saying, “She’s only hiding somewhere.”Mrs. Halloman passed the large bay window facing the woods and caught a glimpse of pink. She ran outside. “Kaitlin!” Ran down the deck side. Her daughter was walking into the woods and didn’t take notice of her calls. “Kaitlin!” she kept calling until she was beside her.
She put a hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”Kaitlin turned around, covered in mud and twigs. “What’s going on?” she asked her daughter. looking into her distant eyes. “He told me to set the rabbits free. . . In the woods.”She pulled her daughter close to her heart and began to cry. “Is that where they are now? In the woods?”Kaitlin nodded, hidden under her embrace.Mrs. Halloman let out a breath and looked for her husband standing on the deck. She could see the cellar’s back door. The lights were on.
And a dark silhouette stood there as if it waited. Waited for its next request to be fulfilled.
