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A Life Beyond the MirrorCatching Butterflies
Thank you so much! I will take a look at those events- thank you for letting me know Beatrice
I looked on the events page and couldn't find the event you mentioned. Sorry I'm new to Goodreads! Could you add the link in here please?
Ok. Let me see if I can find it. Hold on.
Hi Nicole. I think the event is over. It is listed in past events. I'm sure you can still post comments on it. Else we can get our administrator GB to extend it further.https://www.goodreads.com/event/list_...
Hope this helps.
Hi, everyone!!Here is one of my favorite excerpts from my first novella, entitled Sky Fighters and Houndy Crunchers:
I started walking back down these stairs and realized they were made of marble. I then stopped when I heard three male voices. I listened carefully.
“So the Fire Battle Leader is dead?” said one voice.
“Oh, he’s dead all right.” said a second voice.
“One down...Four to go...” said the third voice.
“Oh no...” I said aloud.
I started to head for the door leading to the hallway, but then three guys in their mid-thirties grabbed me.
“Let me go now!” I demanded.
“Not a chance, busybody!” said Slade.
Slade had blonde hair and wore a black pinstriped suit with a matching fedora hat.
“Who are you guys!?” I once again demanded.
“We’re the Black Snake Mafia.” said Steve.
Steve had black hair and also wore a black pinstripe suit, though he didn’t have a fedora.
“What are you going to do with me?”
“That depends on what our boss decides.” said Shawn.
Shawn had brown hair and also wore a black suit with no fedora. Interestingly enough, though, they each had a picture of a black snake with red eyes stitched onto the upper left arm of their suits.
“And which one of you guys is the boss?” I asked.
“That would be me.” Slade answered. “Now shut up!”
Slade quickly decked me in the gut.
“Ouch!” I groaned.
“You know too much...Therefore, you’re coming with us!” Slade demanded.
The three suited men dragged me back up to the roof. When we got there, it was raining and thunder and lightning flashed across the sky. The three men took a firm rope
and tied me to a large antenna near the back of the roof.
“You will not get away with this!” I protested.
“Of course we will!” Steve proclaimed. “The rain will wash away our fingerprints and the lightning will destroy the ropes binding you. And once the lightning strikes this metal antenna...You will be killed instantly!”
“Basically, it will look like you either killed yourself or died by being careless.” Shawn commented.
The three men all laughed and exited the rooftop. I struggled against the ropes, but could not break free. Jagged lightning flashed across the sky.
“Oh man! I really don’t want to die tonight!” I cried out, suddenly feeling terrified.
Suddenly, I heard the cry of an unknown animal. It was very close by. And before I could get a look of what it might be, the ropes suddenly broke. I stepped forward, but as soon as I did, the animal grabbed me from behind, cutting my arm in the process.
“Yeouch!” I cried out.
Apparently, this animal could fly, because it
carried me across the sky and away from the city. I don’t know how far it carried me, or for how long it carried me, but just when I thought it might eat me, it dropped me off on the top of a rocky and grassy hill. It was not until this point that I saw exactly what kind of animal had picked me up. It was a huge white griffin, which seemed to glow brightly in the night. I watched it in shock, as it gracefully flew away from me with its huge white wings and seemed to vanish in the rain on its way towards the forest. I just stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do.
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Please drop me a message if you would like a free feature on our Goodreadssite in May 2021.
Hurray!!Here is a link to my book: Sky Fighters and Houndy Crunchers. I hope this works!
I will also be dropping you a line shortly...Cheers!
From Ross.
P.S. In due time, can I have my other books be read and reviewed, in addition to my first one? I can post excerpts for them too.
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KIndly review. Excerpt from my book God is greatGod is Great: Science Spirituality Love‘Madhav, there are many things happening within us and
around us, which we are not aware of. All these may influence
the way we think, the way we interact and our relation with
others and ultimately with the Universe.’
Here was a lady, the lady I love, a medico, trying to convince
me, a scientist, through scientific terms, that it may be possible
to read minds, though subconsciously and guess what, she
partly succeeded in it, at least in laying a seed of suspicion in
my mind.
‘Come here,’ she took my hand and pulled me to the centre
of the terrace.
‘Just stand here.’ She said. I stood and watched her, as she
gently walked ahead, raised her head and started looking into
the depths of the sky, breathing slowly, with a smile on her
face. It made my heart skip a beat or two. She then opened up
her arms, as if to embrace the Universe, looking at the
countless celestial structures in the sky and admiring them. It
appeared as if she was trying to navigate across the depths of
the Universe, standing on top of the roof of a small structure on
our planet Earth. I could see the glow on her face, as a wave of
cool breeze touched her cheeks. She closed her eyes and
stood in silence. I felt as though some unknown form of energy
and power was emanating from that stance. She gradually
opened her eyes, turned towards me and said,
‘I love standing like this with open arms towards the sky. I
feel as if I am a child of the Universe and this Universe belongs
to me. I feel as if Universe is embracing me with open arms. I
feel as if the Cosmos is talking to me. I feel as if I am talking to
my God.’
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Joish wrote: "KIndly review. Excerpt from my book God is greatGod is Great: Science Spirituality Love‘Madhav, there are many things happening within us and
around us, which we are not aware of...."
I will be very happy if featured on the group. thanks
Following Grasshopper's reply to Ross, here's a short excerpt from my other book. It's a psychological thriller with plenty of action, dark humour and a terrifying twist in the tale.
Mistaken Identity: The Curious Case of Jack and John
Here, the hero attempts to save his fiancee from a house fire...
Smoke was starting to seep underneath the bedroom door but it wasn’t as hot as he’d feared. That quickly changed as he pushed the door open and arrived on the landing. He heard the crackle of fire downstairs and took an involuntary step backwards as the heat hit him. Smoke was everywhere.
Where was Jess?
He crouched down in an attempt to see under the haze and scanned the landing. Suddenly, he spotted her.
She was dressed in her bathrobe and seemingly unconscious on the floor.
John crawled along the carpet towards her, but quickly recoiled in horror as the wooden landing-rail collapsed, barring his way. He coughed uncontrollably as he hurriedly removed it. The smoke was disorientating him and the red-hot wood burned his hands.
He had to get her out.
With monumental endeavour, he managed to pick her up and stagger back into the bedroom. As he approached the window, his arms felt like they were about to give way. He rested her against the sill and prepared himself for one last effort.
How was he going to get her outside? He was in a blind panic and could barely think straight.
With impeccable timing, the bespectacled man suddenly appeared at the window.
John had never been so glad to see anybody in all of his life.
The man leant into the room. ‘Quickly, pass her through.’
Somehow, between the pair of them, they got her onto the garage roof.
John, trembling and delirious, attempted to follow. He caught his foot on the ledge and stumbled forwards onto the garage roof. Just in time, he regained his balance and avoided falling to the ground.
Another neighbour joined them. Somebody had brought a ladder.
The next thing John knew, he was sat on the front lawn of the house opposite. He heard sirens. They were getting louder.
Somebody put an arm around his shoulders.
He had to see Jess. ‘Is she okay?’ he spluttered, but before anybody could answer he had passed out.
If you'd like to read the rest of this story, please get in touch with me via goodreads. I'll send you a free copy in exchange for a review.
Mistaken Identity: The Curious Case of Jack and John
Here, the hero attempts to save his fiancee from a house fire...
Smoke was starting to seep underneath the bedroom door but it wasn’t as hot as he’d feared. That quickly changed as he pushed the door open and arrived on the landing. He heard the crackle of fire downstairs and took an involuntary step backwards as the heat hit him. Smoke was everywhere.
Where was Jess?
He crouched down in an attempt to see under the haze and scanned the landing. Suddenly, he spotted her.
She was dressed in her bathrobe and seemingly unconscious on the floor.
John crawled along the carpet towards her, but quickly recoiled in horror as the wooden landing-rail collapsed, barring his way. He coughed uncontrollably as he hurriedly removed it. The smoke was disorientating him and the red-hot wood burned his hands.
He had to get her out.
With monumental endeavour, he managed to pick her up and stagger back into the bedroom. As he approached the window, his arms felt like they were about to give way. He rested her against the sill and prepared himself for one last effort.
How was he going to get her outside? He was in a blind panic and could barely think straight.
With impeccable timing, the bespectacled man suddenly appeared at the window.
John had never been so glad to see anybody in all of his life.
The man leant into the room. ‘Quickly, pass her through.’
Somehow, between the pair of them, they got her onto the garage roof.
John, trembling and delirious, attempted to follow. He caught his foot on the ledge and stumbled forwards onto the garage roof. Just in time, he regained his balance and avoided falling to the ground.
Another neighbour joined them. Somebody had brought a ladder.
The next thing John knew, he was sat on the front lawn of the house opposite. He heard sirens. They were getting louder.
Somebody put an arm around his shoulders.
He had to see Jess. ‘Is she okay?’ he spluttered, but before anybody could answer he had passed out.
If you'd like to read the rest of this story, please get in touch with me via goodreads. I'll send you a free copy in exchange for a review.
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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5...Quote from book
Cro Cr� Chronicles trilogy 1
"Plucking some courage, she came closer to the form as it continued to pulse and groan. The
change seemed to reach its peak as the creature let out an unearthly, bone chilling roar, which shook the
whole building. Stepping back and heart pounding Nora was shaking in fear. Looking for a weapon she
saw a bit of sharp glass. She picked it up. The distorted form got up slowly getting taller by the minute,
moaning as its form continued to stretch as if stiff. The room itself was big but this thing almost
reached the top. That was when she got to see the back of the creatures head. Horns curling around its
head, snowy white hair slicked back. He looked like a real demon. Seeing her chance she lunged at the
unknown creature with all her little might only to be caught by its inky black skeletal palm who took
the blow like it didn’t affect him whatsoever.
“Wha-…How?!” Was all she managed to cry before she fell on her ass backing away with great
haste to avoid the towering figure. Anxiety reaching its peak. She huddled into a small ball shaking
hysterically with the odd whimper waiting for the inevitable doom.
Hesitantly she looked up only to see the creature kneeling in front of her and before she knew it, ..."
Check it out in amazon stores.
If you want a free .pdf to review , ping me
Kind regards
Moira Dineen (Author of Cro crú Chronicle)
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Sometimes one's story is enough to make us realize that we are not alone in this journey called moving on... L'Alpha et L'Omega de Ma Vie Volume 2 is on promotion from October 31 - November 2, 2020 =)
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Voilà! It seems that I was desperate to meet my one true love and to have a family with him. However, I was not that desperate to be caught by an old flame and get burned all over again.
I wanted the real thing or nothing at all. How can I expect it was the real thing when he kept me under his spell all these years? If it was the real thing, then he should have let me walked away back in 2005. Solve his personal issues. Come back to me in 2009 with a fresh start and we live happily ever after. Is it that really complicated to think? Of course! When it comes to love, everyone becomes unreasonable.
On the contrary, being human makes us think. The only way we can think logically is when we are already out from the loop. The cycle has to end first.
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Hi all, hope you are doing well!a short excerpt from my historical fiction novel set in the 17th century China A-Ma Alchemy of Love
"Playing the Glass Bead Game with Pythagoras
“She is a witch!”
Whispers disturbed the building silence netting frames of ghastly images on the streets of Macao.
“What do you mean a witch?” that is Ama! “They have arrested Ama!”
This little commotion of confused words, unsettled thoughts and scattered feelings was happening on the streets of Macao in China, sometime in the mid-17th century, during the Age that is known as the one of Reason.
Two shadows, deeply moved and connected in an invisible hug, rushed through the night talking, merging their forms with the moonlight and shadows of the buildings and trees.
“Just after the death of her father that retched soul, Fra Thomas, couldn’t settle down, he was the one to arrest Ama.” stuttered the ghostly figure.
“Arrest! That is absurd!” The second man shook his head with the most sincere and spontaneous gesture of anger. “Her father is the founder of our Church and University! Their friends are influential, they would not let this happen. When did it happen?” His voice like a bird shot through the wing could not rise.
A family of bats hung upside down observed the scene. They formed a shape of a butterfly carved in rare white jade, the mother whispered silently to her lover:”let us sleep, it is that time of the day...” Trusting her fate to her new just found friend, balancing in mid-air, she opened her eyes and instinctively moved closer to the fire to hear this story, for a story-teller of the bats she was, so she was curious.
Illuminated, in the starlight, their faces narrated an excitement for the tale that is about to begin.
Together harmoniously all the bodies gathered the wood for fire, lit it and let it glows through the night of dancing sadness under the stars, a dance choreographed by the moonlight a thousand of years ago. A shimmering halo like golden desert sand reflected past, present and future, an oracle of thoughts burnt in the fire that very moment.
“Last night! If it happened to her, it can happen to any one of us! Does Ruben know?”
“Ruben? Ruben is nowhere to be found, lost, gone...”
“What do you mean gone? Maybe the same people killed him?”
“To call infinity a number,” the bat contemplated “does not make it one.”
A restless crowd they were before they were fed and entertained by spirits, later surrounded only by birds, after their fears were lessened, it takes no reading of the stars to see that the men were friends with Ama. Free from death for one immortal moment they sealed off their destiny in the totality of Now."
All the Best! :)
Nataša Pantović
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An excerpt from my debut novel, Once Upon a Lane:'Mrs. Tilly shooed the nice young lady and her doting father away when she noticed the expectant mother was growing physically weary of standing in one place for as long as she had, wishing her well on her walk and inviting her back whenever she pleased. Elated to have found a new friend, especially one who could converse with her directly, Mrs. Tilly wiped away a stray tear and turned back to the rose bush she was planting. She was not yet ready to unpot the new crop of lilacs this year, so the rose bush was the last of her planned tasks for the front yard that day. After she had settled the bush in the prepared hole and watered it the appropriate amount, Mrs. Tilly made a cursory circuit of her front yard, inspecting her beloved plants for any signs of disease or insect infestation, as well as keeping a diligent eye out for encroaching weeds.
Smiling in satisfaction at the condition and appearance of her front yard, Mrs. Tilly refilled her watering bucket in her kitchen before entering her back yard. Of all of the back yards on the lane, it was one of the smallest, yet even here she had managed to cram more variety of flora than anyone but Paxton Green and perhaps Stewart before the elderly sculptor had let his go wild. Humming soundlessly to herself as she tended to her rhododendrons and her hydrangeas, she was incapable of appreciating how gratingly out of tune she would have been had she been emitting any sound at all. Not possessing the faculty of hearing anything, she found joy instead in the vibrations in her throat, and so the tune was chaotic and painful to the ear of any dog unfortunate enough to listen. The bees that hovered and darted around her busy hands as they worked amongst the branches and stems of the bushes paid her and her cacophonous supersonic intonations no mind. The hummingbirds that swarmed around her head, like expectant children waiting impatiently for their mother's attention, seemed as deaf as the little lady to the impossible sound, perhaps even drawn to it instinctively after so many years spent in the care of Mrs. Tilly.
As the hours wore away above her and the afternoon heat was broken by the shadow of her own house, Mrs. Tilly fed the insatiable birds that dwelt year round in her back yard. Once they were happily at work emptying the dozen feeders hanging from her trees, Mrs. Tilly took a break from her gardening to sit in the lone chair standing in her yard. It was one of the most uncomfortable chairs ever built by man, outside of those designed to keep students awake in classrooms, and it looked at any moment as if it were going to collapse. Originally cast in iron, the passage of time and the persistence of the rains had altered the chair in such a way that it seemed to have been cast entirely of rust. Every week, Mrs. Tilly would have to change out the cloth cover she kept on it, not wanting the rust to stain her clothes when she sat on it. Having placed a fresh new cover on the chair only yesterday, Mrs. Tilly simply settled onto the chair today, sighing and catching her breath from her bustling activities.
Folding her hands in her lap, Mrs. Tilly opened her mouth and silence tumbled forth as she poured out all of her thoughts and dreams, all of her worries and cares, all of the things she had done from the day before until now. She talked without making a sound, sitting upon the uncomfortable chair alone in her back yard, and Mr. Tilly answered without a sound, laying as he ever had, still and unmoving in the grave in front of the chair. It was a conversation the couple had every day, the words coming in a torrent as Mrs. Tilly confided in the one and only love she had ever had in life, and her one true confidant listened as he always had, with undivided attention. There was no holding back, as there had never been a need to hold back from the man she had loved, still loved, and in one tremendous rush of words only she could hear and emotions only he would have understood, Mrs. Tilly let go of all of her anxieties of the day. When at last all of the words had been mouthed and all of the tears had flowed, once more she was at peace with the world. Once more, she was content. She stood up from the least comfortable chair in the world, her husband's favorite piece of furniture in life, and entered her kitchen for a drink of water.
After her refreshment, she bustled about the house, tending to the variety of chores that are never done, only maintained, when she passed by the front door and noticed her. Young Tina was standing outside her screen door, holding up her puppy Bailey, and waving to Mrs. Tilly with one of his paws. Young Tina had missed Mrs. Tilly on her previous rounds through the neighborhood, and wanted to make certain that the kind old woman had a chance to properly appreciate her prized pet, just like everybody else. She had been waiting patiently at the front door for a few minutes, knowing Mrs. Tilly would not hear her knocking, and not daring to simply let herself in. Mrs. Tilly whistled a friendly noise in greeting. It was a noise that had befriended strangers and wild animals alike, a noise she had employed throughout her lifetime without ever once hearing it herself.
Letting the little girl, and her little dog Bailey too, inside, Mrs. Tilly fawned over the dog appropriately for a few minutes before conducting them into her kitchen, where she served the little girl cocoa and biscuits and the puppy a bowl of milk.'
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Grasshopper wrote: "That is an amazing piece of well-written prose. One could wish it were written by oneself. The vivid descriptions and rich analogy are simply asking to be plagiarised. May you achieve all the succe..."Thank you! Sent :-)
I was standing in the bed of a short story in itself, a 1993 model Ford Ranger, robin’s egg blue with a stripe of silver down the side; my father had refused to buy the ‘67 Chevey Camaro from the previous owners of the house. I was armed. Armed with a real stiff-rope lasso and a little practice. I had the lasso out because we were after our escaped donkey, Shrek. I wasn’t especially talented with a lasso or really even qualified to operate it. Still, my padrino, my Mexican godfather, had given it to me along with a few lessons.That man was a story. He had come across the Rio Grande after growing up on a ranch, taught himself English, and built a construction company. He would let you pick a foot, then start running. When you were about thirty or forty yards away, he would lasso that foot out from under you. The man was a master. He had taught me the basics and given me a few exercises to practice. Now I was trying to apply some of them.
The Escapee
That summer afternoon, the our story was precarious; we were desperate because the donkey had come loose. The donkey we had only gotten to keep the horse company. My father had misnamed the donkey Shrek. He somehow thought that the sidekick donkey named Donkey, in the movie Shrek, was named Shrek. We still don’t understand his logic. Anyhow, Shrek had made it through our shoddily constructed fence (two wires that intermittently pulsed a low electric current) and he wasn’t going back.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08NTWQXV5
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Hello all!Here's an excerpt from my debut collection of poetry Black Love: Modern poetry that heals the body and soul of depression through feminine energy
she is the only flower on earth that grows unwanted.―Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
JUST US and a bit of everything :)(:
"HER" rupi kaur.
everyone wants to survive and thrive
that's why we seek pleasure of happiness
in a treasure of gold.
and i don't mind
what society thinks about me
all the time
cause confidence without clarity
is a disaster in life.
"HIM" jericho brown.
now look at your skin
brown
and radiant
with a touch of the sweetness of a stretch
that has always swelled the blues in me.
Black love is not only a reflective collection of poetry but also, a life Walkman ― as poetickofi has carefully sandwiched it with thrilling paintings and photography by some of the most talented African American artists in the world.
It is split into seven chapters, each of which gives you an opportunity to crawl, walk, run and eventually fly your way out of loneliness, loss, depression, trauma, heartbreak, abuse and slavery while reminding you about how unique and amazing you’re.
“There is always something that you can do”, and from seeing so many women and men who don't believe they can fully overcome their pain--or even know where to begin — find out How to Overcome Your Emotional Wounds in order to Achieve Personal Growth in this life-changing little but yet invaluable book of poems and paintings amidst the fight for mental health and the fight against racism.
emancipate yourself from mental slavery; none but ourselves can free our minds.
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Do message me if you would like to be featured in Dec2021 for free on our Goodreads page.
Grasshopper wrote: "What a delightful excerpt. We welcome poets with open arms in our group. Do post more work in our Poetry folder for a chance to appear in our Goodreads Poetry Book 2020.Do message me if you would ..."
Awww thank you so much! Sent :)
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Behind the FanI love this idea! Let's get some life flowing in one of my favorite projects; Behind the Fan. Here is a peek just for you!
“Finally the box of money we have been searching for!”
“God I hope it is full of hundred dollar bills, we will pay someone to clear the rest of this clutter out of the house!” Kim grinned brightly, finally having found a measure of levity in the situation.
Mary smiled at her sister; she knew Kim said this more for her benefit than for any other reason. Opening the lid, she tossed it to the floor; Mary cocked her head; it was just a box of photos. Slowly the images registered in her mind. It was a box of 8X10 glossies of women, to be specific, of half-naked women. Mary concluded; they had unearthed their grandfather’s pornography!
“Christ!”
“What is it?” Kim came around the bed then gasped as Mary fanned the photos before her.
“Oh my God…is that what I think it is?”
There were photos, black and white, and color, photos large and small. The box contained pictures showing off beautiful women behind large fans, gossamer veils and other costumes that barely concealed their nudity. There were images of leggy women bending before the camera showing off their seamed hose as well as their ass. In others, they paraded proudly on a catwalk, with pasties over their nipples and a glittering triangle that covered their sex. Tall women, petite, blondes, brunettes, and redheads: all boldly showed off their cleavage and hinting at the extent of their nakedness.
“Why would he keep this under their bed where they slept?”
Kim’s tone belied the feeling of betrayal she felt. She knew firsthand how hurtful adultery, or whatever this was; felt. She stared at the evidence that their Grandfather had patronized various strip clubs. The two women flipped through the pictures as morbid curiosity took hold. All the photos were signed; ‘To Nicky with love, Nicky you make me smile, Nicky…Nicky…Nicky.’ They glanced at each other in disgust. The final photo was face down; the two women hesitated then looked at each other. They turn their attention back to the unrevealed image.
“Why look at it, just more pictures of his...”
Kim couldn’t finish the sentence. She questioned why she even cared, what would one more picture of some hussy prove to her. Slowly she reached and turned it upright; she then held it in an outstretched hand for their inspection.
The black and white image had been custom hand tinted. The woman in the photo was stunning. Her dark brown hair brushed into soft waves; glittering earrings caught the low light of the flash. She looked confidently into the camera, her gaze engaged the viewer while her red lips curved into a smile. She stood proudly with her shoulders squared and back erect. She was sexy and commanding; it was no wonder decades before someone paid to have the photo colorized. She extended one long leg for full view; enticingly encased in silky hose leading to the black straps of her garter belt. The photo was a full body shot; the viewer was to believe she was essentially nude behind two immense Ostridge feather fans. The woman dripped sexuality. Her crystal bright blue eyes were what caught your attention; they were mesmerizing. They stood out in the aged photo and seduced you.
The women exclaimed in unison, “Oh God, its Grandma!”
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Grasshopper wrote: "Thanks for sharing that very unusual piece of writing. I'm sure most people would dread the situation, but it's tastefully done. Well done Caroline!"Thank you! I met a woman who suffered from dementia, but her undying love for her husband was an inspiration. I wanted to honor her with this tale.
Hello everyone. After some consideration, I chose a fragment of my newly-published dystopian novella, Through My Eyes: Humanity's Unwitting Downfall."Ryan limped towards the Machine with slow, heavy steps. He looked down at his hands, his own hands. There was something wrong. They were skinny, bluish and strange. They were too small and didn’t feel right. He tried to move his fingers, and they bent in a way that wasn’t how he’d intended them to move. His eyes wandered towards the Machine, aimlessly. He knew what to do. The soft steps of the android behind him reached his ears more muffled than he expected.
His eyelids fluttered. He leant against the contraption and raised his shaking hands, fitting his head in the tangle of wires and brain-stimulators. He put his head down in the usual spot, his arms and legs held by the straps that had tightened around them. He heard the sequence initiating, and some of the pain disappeared at the prospect.
The room was empty and dark, the dim blue light of the monitors the only thing that illuminated the Machine and that reflected against the metallic parts of the androids. The robots left the room, their programmes synching with the Machine to oversee the linking. Ryan had one person he always linked to. He had been sceptical of the Machine in the beginning. He believed there would be no one person in the world he would like to observe. One of the few lingering emotions he experienced was the incredulity that such a person existed.
As the sequence reached its conclusion, Ryan began to feel things that were not coming from his body. They belonged to someone else, someone who felt no pain in his back and whose hands were more like those he remembered. Before losing all awareness of being himself, he let out a long breath and the smallest of smirks played out on his lips. Better, he thought, this finally feels real."
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I just launched my first anthology by my own Barrio Blues Press, Unity, Volume 1: A Magical Realism Anthology. All proceed for Doctors without Borders. Here's a clip from the first story, "Paradox" by Carmen Baca:"She’d occupied the same house for many years, rising with stiffening joints and creaking bones more rigid and noisier every time she had to leave its safety to fulfill her duty. The dark and quiet stillness of the dwelling suited her, and she moved out of doors only when she was called for by those whom she awaited. Her task wasn’t a difficult one. It only involved finding the one who beckoned her and seeing to the person’s needs in one of two ways.
The morning she heard her name called, she tested the joints in her feet first, moving each toe and feeling the relief when each gave a small but audible crack. She lifted each leg from the knee down while still seated on her stool and gave a faint smile with each little pop of her joints. Next, she flexed her fingers, her wrists, her elbows, and her shoulders before sighing with satisfaction that this day her body would cooperate, and she could accomplish her chore. Moving her head back and forth and up and down, the Lady finally rose slowly until she was assured of her balance and began stepping forward out of the little fenced enclosure which kept her safe from any who might wish to abduct her, or worse—to do her harm."
You can read more here: https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin...
Unity, Volume 1: A Magical Realism Anthology
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Would you like a free free feature on our Goodreads site in March 2022? Message me with your book details please.
Sounds great! Will do. The fee is what? $5?-Jesu Grasshopper wrote: "Very intriguing build up Maria. I'm curious to know where the story leads.
Would you like a free free feature on our Goodreads site in March 2022? Message me with your book details please."
Mod
Awesome! I will definitely message you. Thank you.
Jesú
Grasshopper wrote: "it's free on Goodreads 'Meet the Author' feature. It is only chargeable on our other platforms. Refer to the group announcements for more details."
Don't laugh Grasshopper, I only know how to post in the Discussions. But, I will give it a go.Jesu
I couldn't find the right place for the requirements; what details do you need? Jesú
Unity, Volume 1: A Magical Realism Anthology
Grasshopper wrote: "it's free on Goodreads 'Meet the Author' feature. It is only chargeable on our other platforms. Refer to the group announcements for more details."
Mod
LOST HELIX By Award Winning Short Story Writer SCOTT COON
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"Black Mountain had done that. A faceless entity, imaginary but powerful—it was no one and everyone. It had ripped through his life quickly and thoroughly. The company forced DJ to run without any thought of direction other than away. And there was no going back."
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Order Your Copy Now!
https://www.amazon.com/Lost-Helix-Sco...
Lost Helix
By Scott Coon
Excerpt
After the system kids finished their celebration, DJ waited while Paul changed. Then they headed to DJ’s empty apartment for an unsupervised night of violent video games. As the elevator whooshed them toward residential level nine, Paul made an announcement. “I’ve decided not to wait. I have the money, and I don’t need their worthless diploma in the mining arts. After the championship, I’m bouncing out of this human habit trail.”
For the first time in their lives, Paul’s pipedream felt real. He could feel it already.
Alone.
He tightened his jaw. “Have you even figured out how you’re going to get off the station? They bring our food in by drones, and the shuttles are locked down. Did you come up with something else?”
Paul grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. Unlike school, I’ve been studying for this. There are more ways off this station than you think. It’s more a matter of choice at this point. I’ll be sending you a holo from New Greene.”
New Greene. DJ couldn’t imagine a place like New Greene, where you could go outside without a pressure suit and walk around under a sky. It would be strange. It would also be strange to be here without Paul. Paul was right. His dad was right. DJ needed to figure something out before Black Mountain figured it out for him. He didn’t want to be a miner, but he didn’t want to be a farmer, either. But how could he become anything else?
He didn't know.
DJ managed a meager smile. “I hope I get that message, but I don’t want to see your body floating outside my window.”
Paul snorted. “You’ll never see my body floating outside your window. I’d aim my body at the corporate center and try to smash in an executive’s window, all big and flashy the way I like it. You should come with me.”
DJ jerked his head back. “What? Smashing through a window?”
Paul smacked DJ’s shoulder. “No, jack-knob, to New Greene! What do you have keeping you here? Not like you have any plans or a girlfriend or money or friends, besides me, really, or…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Even if we don’t die getting there, you can’t tell me what I’d do for a living. Even if I had the money for a lander, I don’t want to be a farmer. I mean, the ride in would be fun but…” He pictured Paul falling out of the sky in one of those landers, riding his ugly metal box down onto unspoiled prairie, unfolding it into a homestead, and plowing the surrounding plains into farmland. What DJ didn’t see was himself.
Before Paul could answer, the elevator doors opened and there stood Brian Hochstein. As his gaze met DJ’s, Hochstein’s mouth dropped open.
DJ furrowed his brow. “What are you doing here? Is my dad home, too?”
Hochstein’s looked away. “I…My mission was canceled. Derik…Your dad…He…”
DJ looked past Hochstein to where Mrs. Schumer stood in the hallway in her flowered Mumu. Behind Mrs. Schumer, her current crop of babysitting jobs peered out from behind her. DJ’s own apartment door stood wide open. What the hell was going on? He pushed past Hochstein and stomped down the hallway. Paul and Hochstein followed.
Inside, DJ found Agent Coreman overseeing two technicians as they hunched over holographic screens projected from interface nubs plugged into the apartment’s walls. The techs copied everything in the apartment’s computers to stacks of data chips for later analysis.
Coreman didn’t turn to see who stood behind him before saying, “I told you to go home, Brian.”
DJ dropped a heavy foot, ringing the metal floor like a bell. “What the hell is going on?”
Coreman turned. A momentary expression of surprise appeared but vanished behind his well-practiced public relations mask. “DJ, it’s good to see you, son. I wish it weren’t under these circumstances.”
Hochstein put his hand on DJ’s shoulder. “Your dad went on his job. He hasn’t checked in, and we can’t find his transponder signal. We don’t know where he is.”
DJ’s heart plummeted to his stomach.
“I’m sorry we have to be here,” Coreman said, but his words were a distant echo to DJ’s ears. “Because of the sensitive nature of the systems that Agent Fletcher worked on, we have to audit the apartment’s files. It’s standard procedure.”
DJ fought to keep his knees from buckling.
Hochstein squeezed DJ’s shoulder. “Your dad is quite resourceful. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up tomorrow, limping his shuttle into one of our stations.”
DJ glared at the agents. “Are you even looking for him?”
No one answered.
Paul shoved his way in from the hallway, with his fists quivering at his sides. “You jack-knobs! You just want your precious company files. You’re not even looking for Mr. Fletcher, are you? Is the Return-On-Investment not big enough to bother to save his life?”
One of the techs informed Coreman that they were done. Hearing that, Paul ordered, “Everyone get out of DJ’s apartment now.”
On his way out, one of the techs bumped DJ’s Rigozy off its stand, but Paul caught it before it hit the floor. Paul glowered at the tech until he exited the apartment. Finally, the agents and techs had retreated with their data, leaving them alone in the empty apartment.
Tears streaked down DJ’s face. “I can’t believe them. Mr. Hochstein is Dad’s best… He was supposed to be my dad’s best friend. But no one is even looking for him. No one!”
Shoulders squared, Paul planted himself in front of DJ. “No. Someone is looking for him.”
DJ’s brows twisted. “Who?”
“We are.”
DJ wiped his face, giving himself a moment to grasp Paul’s suggestion. “And how are we supposed to do that?”
“Where was he going?”
“I never know where he’s going.” DJ sighed. “It changes half the time anyway.”
Paul snapped his fingers and said, “What about the shuttle logs? I bet you could get into them.”
DJ shrugged. “I could get into the shuttle logs, but not from here.” He sat on the couch and brought up the computer interface on his HV.
“What are you doing?”
“They care more about their files than my dad,” DJ snarled, “so I’m finding out what they cared so much about…”
He wrote and ran an audit program that would list the apartment’s files by size and date. As it ran, he started writing another, a more analytical program, but the first program completed before he could, filling the air with an esoteric matrix. DJ stopped typing. “I think I already found something.”
“What?”
“Look.” DJ enlarged a grid of colored blocks tagged with dates, sizes, and other details.
Paul cocked his head. “And I’m looking at…?”
“This block here.” DJ zoomed in. “This was a big, old file. You can tell by…uh…never mind. It’s complicated. But whatever that file was, it was here at least five days ago or it would’ve been purged in the clean.”
Paul shrugged. “I barely passed keyboarding, so whatever you say, buddy.”
DJ leaned back on the couch and stared off into his own thoughts. “Someone deleted a big file that was at least twelve years old. And it was hidden inside a maze of folders.”
Paul dropped beside DJ on the couch. “You think it was them?”
DJ rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. It could have been them or my dad.”
“Can you get the file back?”
“No. Those jerks deleted the whole restore folder. There had to have been something in there or they wouldn’t have done it.” DJ drove his fingers through his hair. Was this file anything at all? Or was it nothing?
It didn’t feel like nothing.
Paul sat up. “Okay, what’s next? How do we find your dad?”
If DJ wanted to find his dad, he needed to start from the beginning of his dad’s last assignment. “Do you know anything about the shuttle bay modules?”
Paul answered with his silly grin.
Lost Helix
By Scott Coon
Lost Helix is the key…
Stuck on an asteroid mining facility, DJ dreams of writing music. His dad is a corporate hacker and his best friend Paul intends to escape to become a settler in a planet-wide land rush, but neither interests DJ.
When his dad goes missing, DJ finds a file containing evidence of a secret war of industrial sabotage, a file encrypted by his dad using DJ's song Lost Helix. Caught in a crossfire of lies, DJ must find his father and the mother he never knew.
When the mining company sends Agent Coreman after DJ and his guitar, DJ and Paul escape the facility and make a run for civilization. Will DJ discover the truth before Coreman catches him?
Release date – June 2, 2020
$17.95, 6x9 trade paperback, 268 pages
Print ISBN 9781939844682 / EBook ISBN 9781939844699
Science Fiction – Action & Adventure(FIC028010) / Crime & Mystery(FIC028140) / YA Science Fiction(YAF056000)
Scott Coon has enjoyed success as a science fiction short story writer, winning accolades and publishing over a dozen works in various magazines. Formally a U.S. Army Intelligence Analyst and currently a software developer, Scott brings his technical experience into his work, along with a sense of spectacle.
Scott's first published story, “Firewall,” appeared in Nth Degree Magazine in 2006. His short "Enduring Winter" was a finalist in the Writers of the Future Awards, won Second Place in the New England SciFi Writers Assn Contest 2016, and was published in Bewildering Stories, Issue 849, March 2020.
Scott hosts Writers of Sherman Oaks Critique Group meetings and National Novel Writing Month write-in events. See his website for links to his published short stories and his papers on the art and business of writing. www.ScottCoonSciFi.com
http://www.ScottCoonSciFi.com
http://www.LostHelix.com
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Mod
Catherine wrote: "This is a great platform. Thanks Grasshopper (Daisy)Here is an excerpt from my latest book The Tryptych III. Hope to get some amazing reviews here. Thanks in advance! :)
The Try..."
Hi Catherine,
A great storyline...I have started following you and have added your book to my 'Want to read' list. I hope to find the time to read it someday. I am currently working on self-publishing my travelogue - 'Red Earth Diaries' .
All the best,
Jason
Hi Grasshopper,Thanks for the opportunity. My debut travelogue 'Red Earth Diaries: A Migrant Couple's Backpacking Adventures in Australia' is due to be released on 07 June 2021.
Chapter 14 - Shipwrecked
The story is founded on four primary pillars: it's a migrant’s journal, a travelogue, an inspirational tale, and a story of a newlywed couple's on-the-road adventures. Here is a short excerpt:
Work those pumps, men … for God’s sake keep at it if you want to see the light of day!’ I could just imagine the boatswain shouting orders as the ship started listing to one side.
It was riding up higher on the coral reef on the receding tide, and the cold dark waters were seeping into the holds, the water levels rising by the minute. It was 11 p.m. on 10 June 1770. The fate of HM Endeavour, the success of the entire voyage – and potentially the discovery of Australia itself – now lay in the expert hands of Captain James Cook and his crew.
Being a seafarer, I related to their distress, but my navigational skills pale in comparison with those pioneers and explorers from that bygone era.
Still, I pictured the abject terror that would have seized them as the ship’s hull grated against the sharp edges of the coral reef. I imagined the first few moments of utter disbelief and inaction of the senior officers. Twenty miles from land and knowing that the depths reduced from twenty fathoms to zero in no time at all, Cook would have been acutely aware that this was no gentle sandy spit he’d run aground on.
I could feel the pressure mounting on the captain, as if I were on the bridge with him. Cook knew that trying to float the ship might prove disastrous, with there being every possibility the jagged coral would slice through the hull with any further movement. But he also dreaded the possibility of becoming stranded in the middle of nowhere. With a stoic disposition, he and his men decided to do whatever they could to get the Endeavour afloat.
Over the next thirteen hours the crew worked relentlessly to keep the ship afloat, guns and provisions were thrown overboard, anchors were run out, and capstans heaved in a bid to pry the ship free. The bilge pumps were operated non-stop.
Finally, at around 10.30 a.m., with the crew exhausted from the efforts through the night, there was a glimmer of hope as the onrush of the returning tide lapped over the edge of the coral and began rocking the ship back and forth. Inch by laborious inch, the windlass and capstan heaved the vessel forward, and the Endeavour finally broke free and entered deeper waters.
Once out of immediate harm’s way, one of the midshipmen, Mr. Monkhouse, experimented with the use of a ‘fothering’ technique, sliding a large piece of canvas filled with loose clumps of oakum, wool and sheep dung across the ship’s bottom, the suction effectively carrying the ‘filth’ into the cavity and plugging the leak.
With resurgent hope, Cook managed to sail the boat into a narrow channel at the mouth of a river, landing it at a secluded spot on the mangrove-infested swamp banks. He would later name this waterway the Endeavour River in honour of his barque.
Please do add it to your 'Want to Read Section'. I would gladly provide ARCs to anyone who would be inclined to read the book and provide a review.
The link for the title on Good Reads is - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5...
Thanks,
Jason Rebello
www.evolvingwordsmith.com
Mod
Grasshopper wrote: "Thanks for sharing the excerpt Jason. Message me with your book details if you would like a free feature on our site in May 2022"Hi Grasshopper,
Yes, I would like to avail of the free feature in May 2021. Thanks for the opportunity. What additional details would you require for the feature? The book link on GR is here - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5...
Thanks,
Jason
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Thanks, G.R. - very kind of you and much appreciated.
I've included other metaphors in the book too, as well as turning a few commonly held beliefs on their heads to get the reader thinking outside of their comfort zone and questioning their own pre-conceived ideas about life.
The novel is built around (what I hope is) a very readable thriller and is particularly aimed at people interested in politics.
One of the main protagonists is a modern history teacher and I've tried to use scenes from his lessons to complement the thriller element of the story and give a fuller picture of what might happen over the course of the next 30 years. As a writer, this is a risk but I think it works.
The story is by no means all doom and gloom, and some of it is told slightly tongue and cheek.
Just to emphasise to the group, I know there's a lot of books out there, but if any of you do want to read 'Thirty Years from Now', you only need to ask. I'd be delighted to send you a free copy. Positive and negative feedback accepted with equal grace.