Caroline Gerardo's Blog, page 41

Barry Crowther MISSING

Georg Baselitz







It is rare and far between I write a review, but this one you must read.






Barry Crowther's   Missing








We enter the novel, "Prison does strange things to a man."



Matt Spears is a man trying to hold it together. Things at
home with the wife are on the edge of divorce. He is barely surviving on the
business inherited from his father, the Buffalo Collections Agency, when two
cops arrive ready to pin a wrap on Spears.



The setting is Manchester England, not the dark Victorian
River Irwell but a contemporary crime riddled city of pornography and gangs. Crowther
uses the smoky backdrop as Raymond Chandler employed Los Angeles with grace and
a bit of humor.



Spears is insulated by his forensic accountant cold sidekick,
Nathan Draper, and his trusted office assistant Trudy (not drawn as either the
typical blonde bombshell or matronly aid). Spear makes a deal with the devil, the
gangster Vincent Barbour (no relation to my ex-husband). Spear must uncover
what happened to Barbour's niece Emma. The cast of strange characters pins the
book in the reader's hands until we uncover what happened to Emma.



Crowther saves us from describing the long legs of the porn
victims with mastery. I do not need to hear it and he uses the depravity to add
to the suspense. I am reminded of Expressionist paintings of Georg Baselitz
with spellbinding threats looming over Spears. Crowther nails the noir thriller
to equal Larsson's trilogy with our flawed hero in the center. I suggest
another parallel to a Scandinavian writer of the same title, Karin Alvtegen's
novel Missing. Her is not similar in plot or story, but in the fireworks. Crowther's
charged language masterfully ignites slang and rapid sentences upon the reader.
Crowther's is a gorgeous use of words.



I started this novel on a Sunday afternoon and remained
awake until complete.

Alone Into The City

 This week's IndieInk Challenge came from http://ashortaday.wordpress.com/">DailyShorts, who gave me this prompt: ["Then he turned his back the way he had come, walking out of step with the others, and headed alone into the city."]. I challenged http://fictionalgraffiti.wordpress.com/">Sheree with the prompt [The Sheriff is at your door to take away your Golden Retriever].









"Then he turned his back the way he had come, walking out of
step with the others, and headed alone into the city." Alec Nevala-Lee  The Icon Thief












 Alone After The Radiation





Daniel's kick step carries him west, on 6th
Street. His feet are bulky and elephant like. In his grey dome, he marches
without fear of ravens, coyotes and badgers. Instinct pulls him left on Bonnie
Brae up towards the smoke. A kid with a XV3 tattoo on his back scurries down
into the pavement and circles down, away from Daniel.





"Got no problem with you vato-"
The teen's stumpy hand acts as a screen between them. The sounds of his feet
rumble away. The echo makes a thick feeling in Daniel's core.





Daniel says nothing, lowering his head to avoid being
spotted by Lil Cycos lookouts on the
top of the remains of The California Hotel. Colombian 18th Street
gang did not burn the hotel to the ground. Daniel looks like a grey butternut
squash lumbering up the grade. With his columnar legs, the enemy does not
recognize Daniel as stranger, or homie.
Daniel blends with the pavement as if invisible. Daniel is nothing to them. It
is a month after the first nuclear reactor blew, and still unsafe to be
outside for long.





Daniel cannot let go the burning emotion of what occurred in
the basement an hour ago. Laura's blood saturated the beige carpet. The police will
never arrive with a black zip up bag. Dazing upward a flowering crab apple has
tossed blushing petals on the concrete. He tastes one, testing if it is Indian
Magic, but it is bitter and not edible. There on the pavement the fuchsia
tissue floats in his saliva. It reminds Daniel of his mission.





"Laura, my soul mate is gone from the earth, murdered by the
enemy." Daniel shakes his head.





Daniel's original home with Laura was two miles away from
the radiation spill and the rioting. They hiked nearly fifty miles away from
San Onofre Coast to find a safer place. Daniel felt confident they could hide
safely underground below the loft for a year if needed. Daniel had not counted
on the enemy invading the darkness while he searched for water.





The Gila Monsta gang blocked off most of Pico Union April
1st and then the Fire Department refused to enter. By April 9th, the best the
police could do was to load human bodies into the makeshift morgue, a wine
storage building in Glendale. By April 11th, ninety five percent of the
population was dead.





"Laura is gone from this earth." Daniel thought to notify her
sister, but he has no idea where she is. The only solution he could muster is to
battle with the perpetrators.





Daniel saw the two enemy ravens run from their home, one
with that extended forehead as if he abused steroids, and a scar running from
his left cheek two inches. The dark skin exposed a pink keloid. Just for fun,
the guy had a prison style jagged stitches running drawn in black and blue ink
with the words "RIP Sucker" at his shoulder. The other man Daniel knew as
Smiley, a local pusher. Smiley runs some teens out of what once was a donut
shop on Bonnie Brae. Smiley's a little guy with a beak for a nose.





The front gate of Smiley's place is metal plated nest of barbed wire. Make
shift concrete pylons, stolen off the freeway are bolted to the sidewalk to
provide cover. Plastic bottles of drain cleaner, brown hydrogen peroxide, and
muriatic acid litter the curbside, probably tossed out of the windows.





"Hey man need some chunky?" A voice shouts from a vine
covered window.





Daniel does not look up. He steps with more confidence. Then
he crosses the street towards the door. A couple kids are in the parking lot
arranging coke bottles with gasoline syphoned from cars on concrete blocks.
Daniel does not even shrug at them. They nod him towards the door assuming he's
a buyer.





"Some stupid gopher tortoise," the boys caw.





"What you think ya are Ninja Turtle?" They taunt Daniel.





In normal times, they would be running to passing cars, but
few vehicles can make it through the rubble now.





Before he knocks, the door swings wide and a black figure
speaking pigeon Spanish backs out. A sweet smell of lime or ammonia
flies with him. It is Smiley. Daniel yanks Smiley into a choke hold.





"Where' your friend with the RIP scar?"





"What 'ca mean?"





"Where is the RIP guy? You two broke into the basement my loft
on Venice Blvd."





"You 'betta put me down, there's explosives." Smiley says.





Daniel pushes Smiley forward with his knees. Smiley can
barely speak with Daniels' arm tight at his throat.





"Last time or I gouge ya."





"Second floor, right-"





Smiley sweats on Daniel's chest. The oily feather moisture
does not cool Daniel's vengeance. Daniel moves quickly. They climb the wooden
stairway as one figure. The slats no longer have a coat of paint. This keeps
the wood from creaking a warning.





"Open the door." Daniel tells him firmly.





"I can't just – they'll attack without the special knock."





"Just open it."





Daniel jerks it open after Smiley turns the knob. A coyote is
heating chemicals over a Bunson burner and the black figure reaches for a
rifle. RIP scar points the gun but Smiley's body is in front of Daniel. Daniel in
his armor, looks at him right above the eyes at his bulging forehead. He throws
Smiley towards the RIP man, knocking RIP on his back. In one splat, RIP is
impaled upon the welding acetylene torch.
The other guy spins to get away from what he is boiling and runs out the
back.





"Crazy reptile, it'll blow-" Smiley blurts.





Daniel pushes Smiley out the door. Smiley falls pulling a shunt
from the cuff of his rump. Smiley lunges forward to slash Daniel. Daniel coils
inward with a hiss sound. Then Daniel rams Smiley with violent horns. The blow is not
placed well enough as the first one to kill Smiley immediately. It only disables Smiley. Daniel scurries
down the hallway.





"Stop dat guy-" Smiley coughs.





Daniel smashes through the window glass spilling shards of
iridescence towards a roof line covering dumpsters. Daniel thuds upon the tin and
slides down the back alley. A hot ball of fire explodes behind Daniel. The
second floor explodes behind Daniel.  He walks out alone into the city.













 








Notes:


I tried something out of my norm. Instead of writing a genre story, a thriller as Alec Nevala-Lee's wonderful recent release, I used animals as the characters without revealing this to the reader upfront.  The photograph of the gopher tortoise is a pet turtle that I received from a rescue agency twenty eight years ago. His name is Soup. He was run over by a car (hit and run).




Turtles can live for a year without water. They burrow underground for at least half the year and can survive 140 degree temperatures. Their enemies are: ravens, badgers, gila monsters, coyotes and humans.

Even though they look ancient and strange they are very social and friendly. Soup sleeps with our dogs.

I was thinking that San Onofre's recent leak and how this relates to my life and time. Not certain I trust the power company to tell us how much radiation escaped... Soup will out live me.




Link to information about San Onofre's leak

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/02/13/latest-accident-at-san-onofre-nuclear-plant-worries-activists-residents.html

RETAINER SWAP

Retainer Required




What amount will secure a soul?

Forgiveness slips on the laminate.




You return to my life a Victorian buggy,

clattering, passionate and nostrils wide.




"Love does not end even in death,

only becomes-"




"Becomes what?" You ask.




I am silent, throat frozen.

I know my own truth,

 but need to do

more backbends.




I read this poster where

three Marines died just after leaving

a neighborhood bar.

Jeremiah Callahan was twenty-three.

Christopher Arzola was twenty-one.

Jason Chleborad was twenty-two.




Please send their families the money.

Certitude hearts who loved, but

never had opportunity to marry.




Heroes sing from the diaphram.

The vibration trembles my lips.




Switch places, go back in time




Swap for a different future.

Great Books to Read

Promoting authors work I invite you to please post the following information in the comments section below.



Author name: 

Book Title:

Genre:

Rating: ( G- PG13, R)



your website link:

link to where the book is sold



Description of the book

Emily Dickinson Prize Star

Submitting to the Emily Dickinson prize today.

Stuck on which poems to include,

and their format choices are so limited.

Only word or rich text.

I will not be able to add digital video.

Nothing movie- star glamorous.

Perhaps it is too old fashioned for this girl?



Do I send written word that neatly fits on cream colored stock?



Are they looking for Kyrielle Sonnets with my idiosyncratic syntax?



Blair and I found two star fish on our walk yesterday.

The recent swell stole the sand off Strands Beach

 leaving creatures who I thought gone from my life, exposed.



Reminiscent raw memories of you flooded up with the crazy star.



Looking down pulsing with light,

his spines are desguised as pebbles,

and bits of Ty Nant blue glass now sanded by the sea.

The Victorians employed blue glass to indicate poison inside.



If Emily met you

(if you venture into her garden,

could she travel to Gloucester to experience the coast?)

would she recognize your venom?





I buried him in the sand and tide to protect other hearts.






"Star poison" image and words copyright 2012 Caroline Gerardo

Blog Hop Prizes

There is a first time for everything. This is my first blog hop. I joined http://www.closeencountersofthenightk... in this hop because my novel, The Lucky Boy is a love story. The main character, Seth does some very bad things in this story in the name of love.





This hop is running through Valentines Day and I am offering some special prizes just for the asking:



1. Package of sweet pea seeds to plant in your garden or a pot. The heady smell of this perfume will knock you over.



2. 16 Valentines cards especially for your Mother (WHY you ask? Because in the novel, The Lucky Boy this 16 year old boy has a horrible dysfunctional mother. You will have enough cards to get you through the next years.



3. Free ecopy of The Lucky Boy plus these silvery cold hearts ( they open up like ornaments) and the mug with notes and a ten dollar bill.

It's not sultry but it's cash.

To win one of my three prizes tweet:" I want to read The Lucky Boy @cgbarbeau ", or" I want to own The Lucky Boy @cgbarbeau"

and you will likely win a prize.  Twenty prizes available - first come first served. Random yadda yadda legalese because this is just a silly little prize, O.K.?





























Check out everyone on the linky



http://www.cristalryder.blogspot.com/



http://www.blogger.com/goog_1060866969



http://afterdark.thereadersroundtable.com/



http://www.blogger.com/goog_1060866974



http://www.blogger.com/goog_1060866977

Valentine Sunshine

I sent you the most glorious sunflowers, wider than Van Gogh's breath.

Your soul flys gloating on wings of a dandelion seed umbrellas.

Your torso shades the world and brings the color of Greek sunlight.

You are young without joints, or debt to the IRS, or worry on your sternum.



Dance as a prickleypear, lemon thorn, and mace thistle protect your garden.

Sing from inside the protection of the hawthorne and let me hear you.

God, sing louder, please.

Where is your amplifier for fun?

We need a little Hallmark, Danny Hall,

corny and full of doe eyed characters, please.





Our homes are happy, we have been fed love and it is all good.



I'm reading another fortune made of heavely sugar.

Next one says to lay off necco candies or fear the drop.

White Not Blue

"White Not Blue"for iiChallenge 1/28/2012 written in 40 minutes



June moved to California with Albert, her husband, to chase after another job.



"This one in the aircraft plant-"



"Do we have to go?"



"This gig is better than house painting, leak detection or pest control."



June spends the ten grand from Pappa's estate to invest in the dream in California.



"It seems like a good idea at the time."



Between the morning job as a crossing guard and the night work at the nursing home, June has time to make meals for the children because Albert is gone. Albert went off on a new wanderlust.



June works at Aging Fountains home in Huntington Beach. When she applied for the position, she lied (just a little white one) marking that she had a Certified Nurse Assistant degree when in fact she had not taken any classes. June knows how to push an I.V., administer diabetes tests and check blood pressure. Skills she acquired caring for her father back in Crystal Springs. She misses the lazy evenings on the porch before Pappa died.



It is almost Christmas. California does not offer a season change; there is no blanket of snow. The lights in the lobby of the nursing home are the only sign of the season. Pine trees decorate the front of the apartment complex next to Aging Fountains. June takes it upon herself to cut stacks of the sappy needles to decorate the bare rooms at the nursing home. June parks her Chevy with the branches and the left over boxes of handmade tree ornaments from Mississippi near the service entrance of the building. The confier resin odors swell in the rear entry, blocking that of urine.



The last room in the hall is occupied by what looks to be a shriveled bobolink. In the electric hospital bed rests a lined buff body, dangling grey legs and piercing blue eyes.



They tell June, "John O'Grady in that room never speaks."



"But he sits up?"



"That bird's been in some kind of coma since 1977."



"Can a person live that long in bed?"



"It's the strangest thing. He can eat when spoon fed."



"Anyone visit Mr. O'Grady?"



"Never, just gets a monthly check from John O'Grady signed by himself on the back  for $5000."



"What does the home do with the money?"



"They sign it over and pay for his rent, and keep the rest in the slush fund."



In her calico scrubs with the garnet rhinestone pin June turns the television on in John's room to a station playing, "I'll Have a Blue Christmas," sung by Elvis Presley. June hums as she tapes the branches on John's bulletin board. She push pins some on the windowsill. Then June allocates ornaments from the box choosing the crystal angel to place in the center. Her back is to Mr. O'Grady as she looks up at the North Star to hide the tears in her eyes. June thinks of family back home.



Mr. O'Grady starts to sing, "And when that blue heartache starts hurtin'. You'll be doin' all right, with your Christmas of white, But I'll have a blue, blue Christmas."



"Mr. Presley is that really you?" June says startled.



The man with the cornflower eyes is silent. June tucks bleached covers around him kissing his forehead goodnight.





***





"I'd rather go on hearing your lies, than to go on living without you."



Elvis Presley



Prompt from



http://www.runningforautism.com/



Tell a story that Ellis is in fact not dead from Kristen Doyle



Indie Ink Writing Challenge this week, KristenDoyle challenged me with "Tell a story that Elvis is in fact not dead" and I challenged ChaosMandywith "Tell me about caring for your mother who had a stroke".







Notes:



Bobolinks are a native Mississippi lark like bird that eats insects and grains and has a long undulating flight.



The use of John O'Grady's name is fictional use and no reference to any real person.



Copyrights 2012 caroline gerardo for all short story and photographs reserved







I incorporated a bit of my own prompt to make it harder. I also used the prompt idea I gave to Chaos Mandy about caring for someone with a stroke. I haven't been a part of your group as much as I enjoy, busy finishing my next book. Please tell me what you think.

White not Blue

"White Not Blue"for iiChallenge 1/28/2012 written in 40 minutes



June Moved to California with Albert, her husband, to chase after another job.



"This one in the big aircraft plant-"



"Do we have to go?"



"This gig is better than house painting, leak detection or pest control."



June spends the ten grand from Pappa's estate to invest in the dream in California.



"It seems like a good idea at the time."



Between the morning job as a crossing guard and the night job at the nursing home, June has time to make meals for the children because Albert has left off on a new wanderlust.



June works at Aging Fountains home in Huntington Beach. When she applied for the position, she lied (just a little white one) marking that she had a Certified Nurse Assistant degree when in fact she had not taken any classes. June knows how to push an IV, administer diabetes tests and check blood pressure. Skills she acquired caring for her father back in Crystal Springs. She misses the lazy evenings on the porch before Pappa died.



It is almost Christmas. California does not offer a season change; there is no blanket of snow. The lights in the lobby of the nursing home are the only sign of the season. Pine trees decorate the front of the apartment complex next to Aging Fountains in Huntington Beach. June takes it upon herself to cut stacks of the sappy needles to decorate the bare rooms at the nursing home. June parks her Chevy with the branches and the left over boxes of handmade tree ornaments from Mississippi near the service entrance of the building.



The last room in the hall is occupied by what looks to be a shriveled bobolink. In the electric hospital bed rests a lined buff body, dangling grey legs and piercing blue eyes.



They tell June, "John O'Grady in that room never speaks."



"But he sits up?"



"That bird's been in some kind of coma since 1977."



"Can a person live that long in bed?"



"It's the strangest thing. He can eat when spoon fed."



"Anyone visit Mr. O'Grady?"



"Never, just gets a monthly check from John O'Grady to himself for $5000."



"What does the home do with the money?"



"They sign it over and pay for his rent, and keep the rest in the slush fund."



In her calico scrubs with the garnet rhinestone pin June turns the television on in John's room to a station playing, "I'll Have a Blue Christmas," sung by Elvis Presley. June hums as she tapes the branches on John's bulletin board. She push pins some on the windowsill. Then June allocates ornaments from the box choosing the crystal angel to place in the center. Her back is to Mr. O'Grady as she looks up at the North Star to hide the tears in her eyes. June thinks of family back home.



Mr. O'Grady starts to sing, "And when that blue heartache starts hurtin'. You'll be doin' all right, with your Christmas of white, But I'll have a blue, blue Christmas."



"Mr. Presley is that really you?" June says startled.



The man with the cornflower eyes is silent. June tucks bleached covers around him kissing his forehead goodnight.











"I'd rather go on hearing your lies, than to go on living without you."



Elvis Presley



Prompt from



http://www.runningforautism.com/



Tell a story that Ellis is in fact not dead from Kristen Doyle



Indie Ink Writing Challenge this week, KristenDoyle challenged me with "Tell a story that Elvis is in fact not dead" and I challenged ChaosMandywith "Tell me about caring for your mother who had a stroke".







Notes:



Bobolinks are a native Mississippi lark like bird that eats insects and grains and has a long undulating flight.



The use of John O'Grady's name is fictional use and no reference to any real person.



copyrights 2012 caroline gerardo for all short story and photographs reserved







I incorporated a bit of my own prompt to make it harder. I also used the prompt idea I gave to Chaos Mandy about caring for someone with a stroke. I haven't been a part of your group as much as I enjoy, busy finishing my next book. Please tell me what you think.

Unwanted Gift

I sent you this photograph, a painting and a poem for your birthday. With no response I offer it to other hearts to find encouragement.





A present for you, though



you are gone from my life:

Window towards the future.

A birthday offers promise

beyond the trees.

Leaves clink in the wind,

mist is upon your jacket,

smell rainfall of the past.

Sing health, happiness and prosperity.

Believe in your plan and take each day

a joyful syrup of achievement.



Poem/ flash fiction in response to Story Dam

http://storydam.com/2012/01/22/the-gift-return/