Nicholas A. McGirr's Blog, page 7

February 25, 2017

The Life Tree Chapter 6

Well,

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I can't thank everyone enough for reading this far! However, to continue reading this story you can find Chapter 6 and all the remaining chapters through the links above and below.

Of course, like I've said in previous posts, this series will continue and each "tree" will be a different story. I invite you to browse through all three that are in print thus far and know that the fourth will be coming this spring.

I hope you've enjoyed the first five Chapters of The Life Tree and will continue the story.

There are giveaways happening right now for ALL of my works as well, right here on goodreads. You can find those by clicking on my name below.

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Nicholas A. McGirr
The Life Tree: A Novelette
Life of Death
The Rhythm Tree
Growing Dim
The Umbrella Tree
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Published on February 25, 2017 05:54 Tags: afterlife, chapter, death, free, narrative, sample

February 22, 2017

The Life Tree Chapter 5

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Chapter 5
I do everything I can think of to move my arms, only they are deadlocked into position. Though I can move my head around, I find that the pain of the stiffness in my ankles has now returned and I must look absolutely ridiculous with my arms straight up in the air and my legs unable to move.
I look around for the first time in this scenario as I was enthralled with a cigarette and coffee just moments literally before. It’s a ghost town, like something out of the old West and it’s all I can do but scream for help as I stand as if the sheriff has a gun to my back. This is becoming absurd. I left my cosmic cloud form to enter this daydream only to find the firm death-grip on my ankles here as well. My body begins to sweat from the strain it is going through and, well, sweat is itchy as it pours down your face.
Panic time as I look frantically around. Old wooden buildings with low flat porches and the clichéd tumbleweed goes by showing no signs of intelligent life anywhere. I wish I had a cigarette drooping from my lip now; at least I would be ready for execution. The sun is high and beats down on me hard causing the sweating to become worse. I honestly don’t know which is worse, the sweat beading down my face or the imaginary stretcher forcing me to get taller.
I shut my eyes hoping that I can enter back into the deathly cosmos of confusion. The only proof I know it works is that I can no longer see anything. The firm stiffness of my outstretched body in the Wild West scene is still there. Great, the uncomfortable feelings are now passing over with me. Why couldn’t the ocean pass back and forth with me as I enjoyed the waves crashing against my feet? This is some kind of cruel and unjust punishment.
Were there small delicate sins in my life that caused this punishment? I wish I could remember all the things I said in life, good, bad, and indifferent. Perhaps previous conversations would shed some light on this abyss of nothingness.
I find that I still cannot speak, or hear anything. At least I don’t think I can hear anything since there is nothing audible to hear in this place. At least since the voice I heard in what seems to be years ago now. If nothing else, there was desperate hope in that voice.
Back at the tree of life where my limbs are mobile. The breeze is strong causing noise to whistle through the tree, making the leaves rustle against each other bringing back memories of peace from childhood. The breeze is strong as I said and the goose bumps on my arms raise the hairs to move with the wind. Only this was no simple chill running through my body. I could feel energy being pulled from me as the wind enveloped me.
This force caused me to go cross-eyed for a moment and ended with a sensation of needing to pass out. I collapsed to the ground at the base of the tree slamming my palms into the soft earth. The wind comes again pulling energy from me and lands me completely on the ground. I wish I could express this stealing of energy, but my insides feel as though they were being pulled on and snapping back into place like a taut rubber band. A cartoon character catastrophe if I were to ever feel like one. I longed for that cup of coffee to warm these bones and the jacket from the bistro lunch table to block the winds.
I’m unable to move as my body is drained from the nature around me. I’m a brick in the dirt at this point, emotionless, weary, and dead. I cannot even pick up my head to begin the process of standing up. To my surprise, my head landed so that I may face the tree and I laid there in the grass watching the tree stand strong against the wind. Not one branch twisted or bent to appease the wind. The leaves blew off slowly sending life to other beings, but the trunk and the outstretched branches remained steadfast as the roots kept the great tree in place.
Opposites we were, the tree and I. Me, with my face to the ground while the tree stood there mocking me, egging me on to get up and face the winds, to feel the strength of the winds taking my energy and life only to take it to something else so that it may live longer, feel stronger and to become something better. The wind needed me, a dead being to bring life to something else. I felt as though the tree wanted my companionship, someone or something to pass the time with as it produced and gave life to other creatures of Mother Nature.
Back in the cosmos, my arms still stiff, but I could feel them bending on their own. My ankles still sore, only I felt more than two. I felt as if I had a thousand legs, all of them being held down to the worst degree. This is probably the result of swelling that is occurring from the pain of the stiffness. And although I am dead, this is the reasoning I come up with because it comes natural to me to think like a human.
Human, what about me exactly is human when I am in a cosmic state such as this? I feel the stiffness, a human sense, I feel my arm muscles tensing up and shaking for holding them, another human sense, yet I have no other senses such as sight, taste, or hearing unless I escape into my own mind. What exactly is happening here?

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Published on February 22, 2017 20:12 Tags: afterlife, dark-fiction, death, free, sample

February 20, 2017

The Life Tree Chapter 4

Thanks everyone for reading this far. If you haven't shared this blog yet, please feel free. I won't mind ;-).

Below you'll find Chapter 4 of The Life Tree. I hope you are enjoying so far and don't be afraid to ask me questions about this book or any of my other works.

Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Hospital. This is a no-brainer with the white tiled floors and televisions hanging from platforms on the walls. In one room, I hear a woman screaming in agony. Nurses try to shut her up as they rush around the room, claiming that screaming and cursing at them will not help her pain. I poke my head in the door and see stirrups. My initial thought was right; the screaming woman was giving birth. There are nurses all around staring at monitors and looking for items to help the poor woman in labor. There’s no husband or father in the room. I’m not sure which is more painful: the giving birth part or knowing your child is being born into a fatherless life. I’m certainly glad I never had to experience either of those situations.
The next room is calm and serene and darkened by dimmed lights. I look inside this room to see another elderly woman listening to the screaming going on in the next room. I walk in. I realize that this is the first human interaction I will have since my afterlife began.
She smiles at me and it’s obvious that this woman is dying with her deep wrinkles and sense of euphoria in her eyes. Her hair is woven of platinum strands and hangs heavy from her scalp. Her hair seems to have more life left in it than her body. I brush my fingers through her silver hair and she speaks.
“What I wouldn’t give,” she says. I lean closer to hear her and pull up the flower printed hospital chair next to her bed. She grabs my hands with her cold and thin fingers. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear she was hanging on to me as hard as she could.
I find that I can’t speak here either, not even in my own memory, so I just listen. “What I wouldn’t give,” she repeats, “To have given birth in my life.” I stammer back in my chair. I feel as though this woman just confessed her lifelong wish to me. She smiles again, closes her eyes and lets herself go. I wonder if she will experience what I am experiencing. Her hands go limp and I place them at her sides, the smile still on her lips.
In the next room come the screams of a newborn baby, wailing away as her lungs breathe in oxygen for the first time. Life and death all in the same moment. Am I not supposed to be able to see angels and reapers now that I am dead? I saw no one come by and show off the holy light to the woman that sits before me, nor did I hear an angel’s choir welcoming the baby into the world.
I wonder if the woman in front of me was passed into the newborn next door. Is reincarnation all part of the big plan? Where did that theory ever originate from anyway? I imagined the woman floating above her body and slowly passing through the wall into the next room, losing all memory of who she was and then reborn into a whole new life. How come I wasn’t reincarnated? Where is my next chance to do life over again?! Anger takes over and then I realize I must not be allowed to have physical emotions for I am rushed back into the cosmic bliss where my ankles are throbbing.
Feeling the stiff sensations in my ankles and feet, I wonder if this is one of those cruel jokes where I’m still alive and I’m undergoing some operation. I think I may have read a book like that once, where the person under the knife was being tortured slowly through an autopsy. But that would mean that society would have to pronounce them dead. I push the thought aside and try to remember how it is that I have died.
Was there a terrible accident? Was I happy in life? Why can’t I remember?
A cigarette inhaled slowly then let out in a long drawn out breath. A cup of coffee in front of me, a dark cup of coffee. Trying to remember if I even enjoyed coffee in life, I take a sip of it and the hot mix of dark coffee and sugar pour down my throat accenting my cigarette. This is wonderful! Was I a smoker in life? The cigarette in my daydream says yes, but this also feels like the first time I’ve ever had one. I inhale again enjoying the calmness it brings to my body. I’m sitting outside, the air is cool but only with a windy brush against my skin, otherwise it is comfortable. There is water running nearby like a stream or small river, I can feel it, taste it even. The sun is high and does its best to heat up the ground below. The weather though is of no concern, at least not while I have this cigarette and cup of coffee.
If I wasn’t a smoker in life, I can now see how people would become so addicted to them and quickly. For having never smoked before, at least not remembering to smoke, I do not cough with each inhaled drag; it becomes second nature to me. And before I know it, my cigarette is down to the butt and my coffee cup is empty.
I stand up to stretch after realizing my cigarette is gone and my coffee cup empty. Hands stretched to the air above me, back arched, it feels good to actually feel something. However, I cannot seem to lower my hands, my elbows locked into a position above my head. The stretched muscle starts to ache while my back is still arched.

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Published on February 20, 2017 15:24 Tags: afterlife, chapter, death, free, narrative, sample

February 19, 2017

The Life Tree Chapter 3

Chapter 3
The Life Tree

I heard a voice. Audibly. Not sure how without ears, but I definitely heard a voice. I try to reach out telepathically again, asking for help. There’s a sense of excitement, the first real emotion I’ve felt since I’ve been here for I’m not sure how long. Could be weeks or years for all I know. The voice is now silenced as my telepathic vocal chords are now strained to their own silence. I was never heard. I had never made a sound.
There are clouds rolling in. Fast and rolling, they move through a lowered sky indicating a storm coming on. There’s no weatherman that could deny the treachery this storm could bring for the sky is getting darker by the millisecond. Thunder rolls on top of the clouds pushing them and spreading them across the sky. Lightning strikes and hits a tree off in the distance. The land is no longer rolling hills but a soaked valley with pools of water creating mud with each step.
The struck tree stands strong against the lightning showing no indication of damage. If this is the tree of life I sat by earlier, I cannot tell through the thick rain that is falling. I can see, however, a figure standing just below the tree. No gender could be placed on the figure as I’m shielding my eyes from the rain. No use, the rain is too thick and now blows horizontally with the wind directly into my face.
I shudder with the wind as it blows through me. I’m back in my sanctuary. That was definitely not my happy place. What purpose could these memories serve? Are these even my memories? I have the feeling of déjà vu with each one, as if I’ve lived through these scenarios. What purpose through an afterlife could any of this bring?
Is the purpose to be comfortable with our previous life choices? To live within our own skin and memories forever? Is there to be no forgiveness for any sins? Again, without the religion here, I wonder what will truly happen if anything at all. There are no signs of religion at all; no priest to hear my sins, no God to push open the pearly gates, nor a devil to welcome me with a pitchfork. All of this seems so meaningless.
I’m sure by now you are wondering when I mention the nothingness that I feel. I recall the movie when Clarence is talking amongst the cosmic angels before he meets Jimmy Stewart. That’s how this feels. I cannot move, nor hear, nor see, nor feel anything unless it occurs in my mind’s eye. This is all so frustrating, frustrating as hell. All of these scenes battled out in my mind are the only thing I can do to keep myself from going insane. Or is it that I already have gone insane. Only time, infinite time, will tell.
I’m riding a motorcycle, which is odd because I’ve never been on a bike in all my life aside from my bicycle as a child. The wind is forcefully strong and it isn’t open road I’m riding on, it’s open desert with sand whipping past my fat Harley tires, spreading to either side of the bike, spraying my boots. The sun is hot and low, meaning dusk and a moon rise will soon occur. I wear no helmet and my hair tousles across my face with each leaned turn I make. As amazing as all this is I’ve already learned through the amount of time I’ve spent here that this fantasy won’t last either. It’s a figment and I’m unsure if it is my imagination this comes from, especially since in life, I never learned to ride.
There is a tree off in the distant desert, and fruitful as I wish it were, it is bare and dry. I race towards it on my motorcycle and it never seems to get any closer. I wring the handle hoping to gain more speed towards the tree, but it stays the distance no matter how many miles per hour I choose to travel. It’s mocking me, not allowing me to get any closer. I slam the brake, twisting the bike, making dust clouds form around me. They clear and my vision sees the tree still the same distance away, dry and untouchable.
The daydream ends and I’m back in the cosmic air where I have no senses. Only this time, I feel firmness around my ankles! This may be the most exciting thing to happen since the voice I heard and yet I’m restricted. The firmness feels like two hands wrapped around my ankles keeping them firm and stiff, never letting go.
The excitement is released when I realize that the firmness in my ankles is all I can feel. I still cannot sense the rest of my body, nor can I see or hear anything. But I did hear that voice, or at least I thought I did. It doesn’t take long before the stiffness in my ankles begins to hurt and then the rush of pain. I cannot move them at all, nor can I feel anything in my toes and feet. I move back into my mind’s thoughts. At least there is some normality there.
I need to hear something, I think to myself. I need to hear something so that I know I haven’t become a deaf mute in a cruel world filled with suffering. I hear a creaking sound in my mind. I’m in an attic and sure enough it’s made of old wooden beams where even the floorboards seem half eaten by termites. The creaking was my step on the beaten floor as I make my way slowly through the attic. Each board says hello as the sun glimmers through the circular window on the far wall. There is a warm beam of light that crosses my leg when I walk through it. It feels wonderful. It’s wonderful to feel! The attic, as any attic would be, is covered in cobwebs and I do not mind brushing them aside while I make my way through the piles of olden junk and garage sale remnants. I’m quite delighted to do so actually for two reasons: first, it means that I am actually moving, and two, I have an old soul and being around these types of things brings me joy and comfort.
Off in the corner sits a small trunk and it grabs my attention immediately. Cliché as it seems to spot an old trunk in an old attic, but until one actually finds themselves in this predicament, do they know the curiosity it brings. I step quicker towards it, my creaking footsteps now making hard knocking sounds. Again, it becomes unreachable like the tree in the desert. The more I walk, the more the trunk stays the same distance away from me. Terribly frustrating as tunnel vision sets in and I realize I cannot reach it no matter how hard I try. I turn around to sit on an old wooden chair when something bumps me in the head. It’s the head of a noose swinging from a beam above. I don’t recall seeing it when I came in, but it bumped me all the same, just making the presence known. I sit down on the wooden chair and stare up at it.
Am I sitting in the chair the poor chap used to kick away and do himself in? I didn’t care. I’ve never seen a real noose before and studied the intricate weaving of it. Fascinated, until I find myself in pain around the ankles again, this time much worse. My feet are planted still with no means of moving them. I feel the stiffness extending now into my toes and there is a cooling sensation. I’m not sure if they have gone numb with pins and needles or are awakening with blood flow. At this point, I don’t really think it matters because this afterlife is seemingly meaningless.
I push out the thoughts of my ankles and now my feet and wonder if this is what it feels like for everyone at this stage of afterlife no matter their age or gender.

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Published on February 19, 2017 06:16 Tags: afterlife, chapter, death, free, narrative, sample

February 17, 2017

If you're reading The Life Tree chapters....

Hello everyone!

If you are reading The Life Tree chapters and/or enjoying them, feel free to share this blog on any of your social media.

If you are a book reviewer, by all means, inbox me for a free copy, I will do my best to get a copy to you.

Please follow this blog to continue reading these chapters. Who knows how many I'll post and/or when I stop posting them.

You should also know that there's a giveaway happening right now for The Life Tree and EVERY other book I've written. Simply click the link below for the Life Tree's giveaway and you should have no trouble navigating your way around to find the other 4.

I won't boast about any other title here but I will say that I just released my first hardcover! Growing Dim is available through Barnes & Noble exclusively for now.

Of course, as you read through The Life Tree through this blog, feel free to give a star rating here on goodreads. It allows us writers to sell more books by using your honest opinions.

As for now, thanks for reading,

Nicholas.
The Life Tree
Nicholas A. McGirr
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Published on February 17, 2017 04:16

The Life Tree Chapter 2

Thank you for reading Chapter 1!

Here's Chapter 2....

The Life Tree
The Life Tree (Tree Collection #1) by Nicholas A. McGirr

Chapter 2
If this is death, where are my loved ones that I’ve lost during life? My grandparents, siblings, and long lost ancestors that I’ve never met? If this is an afterlife, where is the meaning to all of it? Am I to exist in this clouded state with nothing but my thoughts to recall memories from life? To relive greatest and worst moments over and over? Questions remain.
With my mind wandering into different directions, I realize that I have been taken away from my lunch at the deli and pushed into another scenario. I have no sense of time travel or physical travel, just some questions rolling around in my head and then like a slap in the face, I’m somewhere else. Although by the looks of the scene, I’m not displeased but comforted by what is clear and sharp in front of me.
I stand at open waters, crashing waves at my feet. The sand is grainy like salt and sticks to my toes. With each wave that crashes, new granules of sand find their way to my skin as the old granules are washed away. I wonder about the sea life inside the water. I wonder where the colors that are in the water are coming from. They are numerous and change often as the water body moves over itself combining reds and blues and greens. This place is euphoric and my memory does not feel the same familiarity as it did on the patio of the deli a few moments ago. No, this place is new, unfamiliar and comfortable.
Hands in my pockets, a slight breeze brushes the back of my neck and sand on my feet. I can feel all of these things inside of my memory as if they were real. The colors here are iridescent becoming more lustrous the longer I stand here. I close my eyes hoping to keep this place. Then it is gone. I am back in the nothingness.
The sensations of the sand, the colors of the water and the tickle of the breeze are all gone. I am back to my thoughts yet again. I do my best to move, but feel nothing, a struggling effort to make no effect on the environment around me.
Looking for something to feel physically and emotionally still seem to be lost and I cannot even feel the need to become frustrated for there seems to be no emotions here. I only feel the emotion inside my head when I smell the steam from tomato soup or feel grains of sand on my bare feet.
I think again about the Tree of Life. A wonderful notion that we as people are all stemmed and thrive from a tree springing life from branches reaching out to help our blood flow and providing oxygen to breathe. With thoughts of a physical thing, I’m thrust again into another scene. A cool spring breeze and a magnificent tree are in my view.
I sit on the grassy hill in front of the tree and wonder where it came from, how old it is and a curious question arises of who it is. It moves and bends slightly with the strong wind that blows at the top of this hill. The wind pushes away the strong sweet oxygen out of the tree into the life of nature around it, the grass I sit on, the crops on another rolling hill, and my lungs. I can taste it, feel it filling up my lungs with the freshest air, giving me life, an afterlife.
Reminded of my true presence, I’m taken away from the tree without exhaling. The fresh air is trapped within me, it can never leave. Or at least until I’m sitting in the audience with an exhale of relaxation as the orchestra begins.
Here is the ensemble I looked for and expected upon my arrival. Here is the chorus on center stage ready to bellow out my presence. As the orchestra pit warms up with uniformed scales, my heart pounds awaiting the music to begin. Unsure of what piece of music I am about to enjoy, my anticipation gets the best of me. My heart pounding, my ears perked and my eyes soaking in the long evening gowns and tuxedos, I’m thrown back into nothingness.
It is becoming apparent to me that my thoughts are not the only trigger for the changing of scenery. I had no thoughts of an orchestra before arriving there. Nor have I ever been to see an orchestra in real life, or have I? Full memories are leaving me, but the senses are being aroused by other forces unknown to me.
There are no known medications to describe the state I’m in for that must mean I have no real illness. I hear no gunshot in my mind to interpret that I’ve been shot. I feel no pain in bones that don’t exist that suggest a broken neck. I’m at a complete loss of what is happening. And if panic does exist, I have to recall thoughts to remember it.
I’m running. Chest filled with panic as the moonlight provides the only light behind a flickering streetlamp. The streets are cobblestone and my sneakers make little noise as I turn my running into a slow jog looking behind my shoulder to see what it is that I’m running from. There is nothing there aside from a pair of eyes at the end of a long tunneled alley. I cannot tell if they are high or low indicating an animal or a human, all I know is that they are hungry. My jog turns back into a sprint once more until I realize I’m at a dead end, backed up against a brick wall. My chest heaves with anxiety blurring my vision and causing my hands and face to go numb.
Nothing. Thrown back into this reality with no indication of the five major questions. I have no idea who I am anymore. I am in no state to tell you what has happened. My memories are serving me different time periods. The where is definitely the main mystery. The reasons why I’m here can only reveal itself over time. A voice!

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Published on February 17, 2017 03:22 Tags: afterlife, chapter, death, free, narrative, sample

February 16, 2017

The Life Tree Chapter 1

Hello Everyone,

I thought I would give a teaser chapter here on my blog for a number of reasons. The Tree Collection of novelettes that I'm currently working on will continue and here is an inside look at the first in that series.

Please like, share with your friends, follow this blog and/or leave comments below. I hope you enjoy and who knows? maybe, I'll leave the next chapter in the next couple of days. ;-) Stay tuned.

The Life Tree
The Life Tree (Tree Collection #1) by Nicholas A. McGirr
Chapter 1

No signs of the Maker. There’s no crash of cymbals as I make my entrance. No Muses or orchestrated choir and strings to announce my presence. There’s no sign of religion.
No sensations of sound or smell. No feelings of remorse, loss, happiness or fear. There’s just me inside this random nothingness. There’s no color, nor light, nor darkness. I feel my own presence but unsure if it exists. I am here, but not. This is not Heaven, Hell or any Purgatory. This is an afterlife and I cannot remember how I arrived.
There are no monster baddies such as vampires, werewolves and certainly not any zombies. So the zombie apocalypse theory is now out the window. There was no shining light to float up to, nor any pain. No hospital that I can remember. No one telling me that I would be alright. There’s none of this which makes me wonder what truly happened and where I am.
Without any signs of burning suns smashing the earth, zombies eating my flesh or a calendar running out of time, there’s a sense of knowledge that shows common sense shining through. The information gained prior to this place really has no meaning other than ruling it out of not existing.
Coma? Possibly. Death? Likely. Pre-birth? Unsure. There aren’t any pearly gates that suggest any of those things are possible. I’m not in any sticky wet womb of feeding tubes and blood vessels that detail how I’m born. I feel no uncomfortable hospital bed that could be a casket. Confusion isn’t even setting in as the deciphering of my whereabouts is floating through my mind. Quite honestly, I cannot tell whether I’m sitting, standing, or lying down. There is only that sense of being, a soul with no form like that of a smoke cloud. I cannot prove this theory either for there is no vision other than my thoughts.
No gruesome gore that shows an ugly demise, no white robe and halo that proves me an angel. None of this exists. No other being around, at least not communicative, to provide answers. No other person, rodent, or insect to give me a clue of what or where I might be. I try to call out, but again the sound only rings through my thoughts. Telepathy maybe? The ancient ones spoke only through telepathic surges learned by the aliens. Now I’m sounding absurd.
This euphoric state of mind, the sense of weightlessness, the inability to hear or make sound forces me to use the one sense I know I have: remembering.
I can hear the piercing thoughts in my head that wonder what is happening. I push forward trying to remember, but forcing memories to happen causes a flood of voices and randomness to occur inside my brain. I do my best to break through the flood and begin to make out silhouettes of my surroundings. Everything is cloudy and distorted, but I push forward, straining the thought to focus.
Finally, I’m sitting down ready to have lunch. This is not your typical deli, I get the sense that tuna on rye will not be on the menu. There are many people around sitting, talking, and eating lunch but I cannot make out their faces. They are all just a blur and the only focused items in my view are the table in front of me and the wrought iron gate that I sit next to. Nothing physical about this place is familiar but the sense of being there is all too habitual. Difficult to explain, but the forced thought of déjà vu pouncing its way through my thoughts is all too recognizable. I do remember having such sensations of being somewhere before I actually arrived quite often. This I remember.
However, the place I am in now does not bring on a déjà vu or any type of sensation. It must not be focused on now. Back to the bistro table.
Again, no tuna on rye, there is only a cheese melt on the menu, a fancy term for grilled cheese. It is made with three cheeses and served with a small cup of tomato soup. I order, yet there is no waiter. There is the disappearance of my menu and then my food arrives piping hot. Suddenly, I am cold. A shudder comes across me as I realize I’m wearing a light jacket. This could indicate the climate of my whereabouts. The steam from my soup is visible. Yet another clue that my location could be very cold and yet I am only wearing a light jacket outside. Clues to take in audibly for there are no limbs to write them down. For that matter, I wonder if I even have flesh at this point. For if I have no flesh there will be no fiery pits. And no fiery pits means no steamed heat and heated passionate deadly sins. It also means not having the rolling hills and green pastures to run through long crops of grain passing by the tree of life.
Foretold through memories I remember what dangers I was warned of if lived by ways of sinning. That by living a fruitful life with an open mind to love all people would bring me to a place of peaceful tranquility. I wonder if these are all lies. All of them. Fictitious tales told by parents and worshippers to have codes to live by, putting the Bible as stone tablets carved with lightning bolts. Yes, a life lived by stone.
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Published on February 16, 2017 06:34 Tags: chapter, death, free, life, nicholas, quotes

February 9, 2017

Giveaways happening now!

Hello everyone,

As I continue to work on the next installments for my Tree Collection and the Crossmanm McKnight series, I am giving away one copy of each right here on goodreads.

My latest release, Growing Dim is now available in hardcover on Barnes & Noble's website. I'm very excited. The sequel to this series will be available this upcoming summer. It, too, will be available in hardcover and is entitled Book Two: Book of Joel.

I can't wait to hear all your reviews on these books as I continue to grow my library. Very excited for my first hardcover, pick it up today and leave an honest review.

As Always, thanks for reading,

Nicholas McGirr
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Published on February 09, 2017 13:49 Tags: free, growingdim, hardcover, new-title, nicholas-mcgirr

February 5, 2017

McGirr, Ink

Hello fellow authors!

Just thought I would write a quick blip about my new Facebook page that I created with my wife, April McGirr. We entitled it: McGirr, Ink. (see link at the bottom of this blog post).

The page is celebrating our ability to put together solid book covers for fellow authors with April's keen eye for photography and digital print and my quick wit at writing blurbs and formatting for the press, we hope to gain a loyal customer base through this new Facebook page.

Of course, there are fees that go along with these superb abilities and services we offer, but after researching the market for cover creating, we are offering more to clients than most other small businesses that offer similar services for an even higher fee.

So, who the heck are we? And why are we so special?? Well....

I am a writer myself and have learned the do's and don'ts of self-publishing through bad formatting, ugly covers and countless proofing. I also have two degrees: BA in English and another BA in Journalism. So non-fiction versus fiction are not a problem for me. ;-)

April's wonderful eye for photography, color scheme and natural abilities for picking out great artwork to turn into covers make her and I the perfect duo. She has re-worked all of my covers (check them out here on goodreads). Her many years of retail have lead her into the grand scheme of marketing your new book (or cd) cover to sell itself.

So check out our Facebook page for some of the services we offer and leave us a message for a quick quote on your new project. We'd love to hear from you!

If you yourself can't use our services because you are 1000% satisfied with your current cover designer, by all means share our page or send other authors our way.

As always, thanks for reading and we're looking forward to hearing from you!

Nicholas & April McGirr
Growing Dim by Nicholas A. McGirr
https://www.facebook.com/mcgirrink/
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Published on February 05, 2017 18:37 Tags: book-cover, cover, cover-design, nicholas

November 28, 2016

FREEBIES!

Hello followers,

As you know, I'll be doing more and more giveaways here on goodreads to celebrate the continuance of my 'Tree Collection novelettes. I cannot wait to hear and read your reviews!

I have plenty of stories for this collection and I am working on a story that I think readers of this collection will truly enjoy. I'll dive deeper into the afterlife flow of trees and their purpose. There may even be a novella with the "word on trees" voice and his story. Details to come on that.

As for now, I'm reworking The Growing Dim Project with a simpler title: Growing Dim. New cover art and new format! That's right, it'll be released in hardcover format and will be available through your local Barnes & Noble. How exciting, I can't wait for this release!

Thanks for reading!

Nicholas.
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Published on November 28, 2016 18:34 Tags: afterlife, barnes-and-noble, death, nook