Juniper Grove Book Solutions Presents...Sweet Oblivion

Title: Sweet Oblivion

Author: Bailey Ardisone

Published: December 30th, 2012

Word Count: Approx. 107,000 words

Genre: YA Romance/Fantasy

Synopsis:

Have you ever wanted to forget? Nariella Woodlinn has. Many times. Especially when her already frustrating life gets turned upside down by a mysterious boy who randomly shows up in her small town and she can’t seem to understand anything about him, despite how much she tries.

​ Nari hates everything about her life except for her best friend Rydan, but now that they’ve been separated during their senior year of high school, she has to learn to make new friends without him. When strange unexplainable phenomenons start becoming an everyday part of her life, Nari struggles to come to grips with reality. And with love.
​
Naminé has responsibilities. Duties. It is her obligation to fulfill all that is asked of her by their King. But when a glimmer of hope is introduced to her by a prisoner she tends to and it means life or death for her and her people, she does all that she can to turn that hope into reality and finally end the vicious war that has been ensuing since she was born. Even if that means keeping it secret from her King. Even if it means carrying out the biggest betrayal against the King ever seen during her time.
​
She has hope. She will fulfill her duty. She will not let her people down.

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Excerpt:

But in that short, torturously way too short, second that I got to look at him, something odd stuck out in my mind. He was effortlessly balancing a sharpie on the tip of his left index finger, looking very bored. Too bored. Hmph. 

I refuse to succumb to the charms of a man just because they speak in an alluring accent and look completely devilish. And hot. That will be the last time I ever let myself fall prey to his cunning tricks.

… I hope.

As the novelty of surprise wore off the longer I sat listening to Mr. James go on and on about whatever, I couldn’t shake this eerie feeling that started creeping up my spine. For whatever reason, the new guy was beginning to freak me out. I had this strange alarming sensation in my gut, as if telling me he was dangerous. But all of it was nothing compared to what I felt out in the hallway after class ended.

I had slowly stood up to gather my things, hoping that everyone, and I mean everyone, would leave and I could get to my next class without speaking to anyone. Or at least one particular person.

But as soon as I walked out the door, he was there next to me, making me almost jump to the roof like a cat with my hair standing on end. He looked amused and wore a very adorable smirk. He had backed me up against the lockers, pinning me with only his aqua eyes and as he leaned down, both hands in his pockets, I stood there trapped by my own wonder at what was about to happen. But all he did was lean into the left side of my hair and took a long inhale of breath through his nose, like he was smelling me.

“Mmmm” was all he moaned, before he gracefully skipped backwards like a mountain lion and walked away, leaving me now completely and utterly freaked. What the heck was that? That had to be the creepiest thing I have ever experienced.

And hottest.

But I refuse to acknowledge that part. 

I began to dread going to anymore classes today, afraid he would be there. It all came to nothing though, because it turns out, I didn’t end up seeing him again the entire rest of the day. Thank the Lord! Something was finally going my way.

            The next day, I was too afraid to walk into Literature. I stood there at the door, hand over my heart, trying to calm my nerves down. I don’t know what it was, but something about that guy has me frightened. I asked Zaylie and Desmond about him, but none of them saw him. Zaylie doesn’t even remember seeing him in class yesterday. That right there had me reeling, expecting to see him anywhere I turned and being the only one who did. If I’m starting to see ghosts, someone please just kill me now.

About the Authors:

Bailey Ardisone is a collaboration by two sisters born and raised outside of Chicago, Illinois. They took the last names of their two grandmothers and combined them together to form their pen name. They both married the love of their lives and spend their days submerged in books, movies, music, or art and love traveling. Fantasy books and movies have been a huge part of their lives and are obsessed with Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Sweet Oblivion is the first book they have written together and is the first novel of a series.

Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Blog | Website

Giveaway Details:

There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:

·        Three (3) eBook copies of Sweet Oblivion

Giveaway is Worldwide.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

A Real Tree

Welcome to Christmas on Keira’s Corner. We will be discussing everything this month from Holiday movies to TV specials and everything in between and I will also have featured books.

A little about Ms. Jefferies

C. Michelle Jefferies practically grew up in a library. The oldest daughter of four, she spent hours devouring books with her mother. When she was ten, she realized that she wanted to write stories like the science fiction books she loved to read. In high school, she met another writer that inspired her to write a novel instead of just short stories. She finished that 189 page handwritten novel the summer of her junior year.

A mother of seven, she put her writing on the back burner while she focused on raising her young children, and volunteering as a breastfeeding counselor in her community. When her children were old enough for her to spend a few hours on the computer, without them burning the house down, she returned to writing and hasn’t stopped since. Often writing or editing with a baby in her arms or under her feet.

Married to the guy her high school boyfriend introduced her to; she claims the last 20 + years as her education and mission experience. With a love for natural mothering, and a passion for secret agents and all things Asian she writes about bad boys turned good and fantasy of the urban type. All while beating herself up three times a week in Karate class as she works toward her black belt in Tang Soo Do.

Ms. Jefferies has a story in a Christmas anthology. Her story is entitled, A Real Tree...

What does Christmas look like hundreds of years in the future and on a completely different planet?

A little bit about the anthology...

 

Sing We Now of Christmas: An Advent Anthology

Christmas carols capture the spirit of Christmas like nothing else, and Sing We Now of Christmas brings beloved carols to life like never before. Walk in the footsteps of good King Wenceslas. Experience anew the bells on Christmas Day. Witness the journey of a soldier who lost his voice as he participates in the miracle of Silent Night. Experience all this and more in these heartfelt, entertaining tales donated by a team of authors from across the country, teaming together for a good cause.* Covering twenty-five stories--one for every day through Christmas itself--this anthology is ready to become a new advent tradition for your family! *All the proceeds from sales of the anthology are donated to the National Down Syndrome Society.

What other writer’s had to say about Sing We Now of Christmas.

This book has so many great ORIGINAL STORIES. So often I look for Chirstmas stories to find the same ones. These are all new, never been read before. It will be a great family tradition to start and continue in the coming years! The fact that they are linked to Christmas carols makes it great fun!  ~ By JOWrite

There's no shortage of Christmas anthologies on the market; most of them based on memoir. Sing We Now Of Christmas takes a unique approach. Each of the 25 stories relates to a carol, with the selections meant to be opened and read like an Advent calendar; one day at a time leading to Christmas. It could be the start of a new tradition; with members of the family taking turns reading one story aloud each evening.

Michael Young, a member of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, conceived the idea. He then enlisted writers and editors across the country, who donated their stories and technical skills. All royalties from the book go to the National Down Syndrome Society.
 ~ Amazon Review

Buy it now in Print on Amazon

Oh we are not done yet... C. Michelle Jefferies was awesome enough to answer some questions about her novel Emergence and some personal questions as well. So stick around :)

Interview between Keira Kroft and C. Michelle Jefferies

 

Keira: You had a story recently come out though Walnut Springs Press entitled Emergence. What is that about?  

It’s about an atheist assassin who is called as a prophet. And what happens to him as his life deconstructs after being called.  

 

Keira: Is writing your only talent?

 

 No, I also love to sew and make some types of crafty stuff. I am SO NOT a scrapbooker.  I’m also an amateur book binder and shoe maker.

 

 Keira: Why are you a writer?  

 

Because otherwise these amazing scenes happen in my head and then go to waste. I love the art of story. I also love the way words play and sound together.  

 

Keira: How many hours a day do you dedicate to writing?  

 

I try to get at least two hours of writing and an hour of marketing in a day. I have five kids at home so my time is limited and I should use my free time more efficiently.

 

 Keira: Do you use a particular writing method?  I use two methods, for the bare bones of the story I use Larry Brooks Story Architecture (Storyfix.com). It gives me a “recipe” of sorts as to where specific things go. Then when the structure is done I use my master chapter outline to put the structure in order and then I get to free-write between those points.  

 

Keira: Please share a particular detail about one of characters, please.  

 

Antony my MC has two marks on his body. One a birthmark around his ankle that looks like a snake biting its tail and a tattoo he can’t see and doesn’t even know he has.  

 

Keira: What advice would you give to an unpublished writer?

 

 Learn to love re-writes, edits, and revision. It’s not critiquing you as a writer; it’s making your story better. The faster you learn this, the faster you will be published.  

Let’s get personal…

 

 

Keira: What is your favorite food?  

 

Definitely Chinese. I love almost everything except the spicy stuff.  There is this little place where I used to live that made the best pot stickers.  

 

Keira: What is your guilty Pleasure?  

 

Shopping for old Pyrex dishes at the local thrift store. The locals don’t have any idea what treasures they’re donating.

 

 Keira: What is your favorite Smell?  

 

Lemons. Especially Lemon bars.  

 

Keira: If you could change one your physical feature? Would you? What would it be?  

 

I’d be thinner.  

 

Keira: What is your favorite color?

 

 I’d have to say orange. Like fall leaves and pumpkins.  

 

Keira: Do you have pets?  I have a dog, seven chickens, and one finch.  

 

Keira: What are you reading?  

 

I just finished Beautiful Creatures. Amazing book.

 

 Keira: Can you share your blurb with us?

 

Of course. 

A Hitman with a Conscience.

Assassin Antony Danic has never killed an innocent man. At least the corporation he works for has never given him a reason to think otherwise until now. Reeling from a series of demanding assignments, Antony is desperate for some downtime. As he sits on a beach in Tahiti watching his wife play in the ocean, a messenger from his employer delivers a death threat. Suddenly, the hunter has become the hunted. While Antony struggles to find a way out of his till death do us part contract, he's faced with the decision of a lifetime: kill another man who may be innocent, or do what's right even if it puts his family in jeopardy.

 

Buy it now on Amazon

 

Where to find the awesome C. Michelle Jefferies

Blog

Website

Email

 

Happy Holidays :)

Hugs,

Keira Kroft
www.keirakroft66.blogspot.com
http://www.facebook.com/keirakroft
http://twitter.com/#!/KeiraKroft66

Introducing Emergence by C. Michelle Jefferies

Keira’s Corner would like to introduce C. Michelle Jefferies. This is the first of two stops that this awesome writer will be making here. Look for her December 12^th. I will be conducting an interview and we will chatting about her Christmas themed story.

A little about Ms. Jefferies

C. Michelle Jefferies practically grew up in a library. The oldest daughter of four, she spent hours devouring books with her mother. When she was ten, she realized that she wanted to write stories like the science fiction books she loved to read. In high school, she met another writer that inspired her to write a novel instead of just short stories. She finished that 189 page handwritten novel the summer of her junior year.

A mother of seven, she put her writing on the back burner while she focused on raising her young children, and volunteering as a breastfeeding counselor in her community. When her children were old enough for her to spend a few hours on the computer, without them burning the house down, she returned to writing and hasn’t stopped since. Often writing or editing with a baby in her arms or under her feet.

Married to the guy her high school boyfriend introduced her to; she claims the last 20 + years as her education and mission experience. With a love for natural mothering, and a passion for secret agents and all things Asian she writes about bad boys turned good and fantasy of the urban type. All while beating herself up three times a week in Karate class as she works toward her black belt in Tang Soo Do.

A little bit about Emergence

 

A Hitman with a Conscience.

Assassin Antony Danic has never killed an innocent man. At least the corporation he works for has never given him a reason to think otherwise until now. Reeling from a series of demanding assignments, Antony is desperate for some downtime. As he sits on a beach in Tahiti watching his wife play in the ocean, a messenger from his employer delivers a death threat. Suddenly, the hunter has become the hunted. While Antony struggles to find a way out of his till death do us part contract, he's faced with the decision of a lifetime: kill another man who may be innocent, or do what's right even if it puts his family in jeopardy.

What other writer’s had to say about Emergence

This swift read engages your emotions, from anxious, high-speed action to the tender pursuit of love and forgiveness. ~ Pendragon Inman, author of the Shinehah Saga

With a combination of expert storytelling and imaginative plotting, Emergence will keep you flipping pages as fast as you can read them.~ Tristi Pinkston, author of the Secret Sisters Mysteries

Buy it now in Print on Amazon

Note: if it says 'out of stock', new copies have been provided and you if you order now you will still be able to enjoy your awesome copy of Emergence in a very timely fashion.

Thank you for stopping by :)

Hugs,

Keira Kroft
www.keirakroft66.blogspot.com
http://www.facebook.com/keirakroft
http://twitter.com/#!/KeiraKroft66

BITTWT: Anne Rice's Armand

Welcome to Blood is Thicker Than Water Thursday.

I am a huge Anne Rice and Lestat fan. However my favorite has always been Armand. Then again Ringo was always my favorite Beatle, so maybe I just root for the underdog, none the less...I love Armand. And here is why...

The Vampire Armand (1998) is the sixth novel in Anne Rice's The Vampire Chronicles series.

With Lestat still in slumber after his adventures in Memnoch the Devil, the vampire coven is united around the "brat prince" (a nickname for Lestat given by Marius), and the vampire David Talbot takes the opportunity to request that Armand tell David his life story. Armand, who first appeared in Interview with the Vampire, agrees to tell his tale.

Born somewhere in the eastern European state of Kiev in the late 15th century, Armand (at this time called Andrei) becomes an icon painter in a monastery. He is forcefully taken out of this life of prayer and devotion by slave traders, who take him to Constantinople and then to Venice, where he is destined to work in a brothel. Soon after his arrival in Venice he is purchased by the vampire Marius de Romanus (whose life story is told in Blood and Gold), who names him Amadeo.

In Venice, Marius lives the extravagant life of a respected Renaissance painter, and mentors many boys who serve as his apprentices. Marius provides his apprentices with education, shelter, food, and he assists them in finding respectable positions once they are grown. Life in Marius' villa is a stark contrast to the poverty, hunger and disease described elsewhere in the city. Over time, Amadeo's relationship to Marius develops and they become much closer than Marius is with any of the other boys. In addition to developing a sexual relationship, Amadeo sleeps in Marius' bed, is privy to special privileges, and becomes something of a 'head boy' in the household. Still, Marius maintains strict control over Amadeo, and expects industriousness from him in all things.

When Amadeo comes of age (the book is not specific, but he is most likely 15 or 16 at this point), Marius begins Amadeo's education in sexuality and coupling. He takes Amadeo to a brothel, where Amadeo remains for several days. Amadeo later visits a male brothel for several days, and while there makes several observations about the difference in sexual activities with the different genders. There is a distinct bisexuality to Amadeo's nature, as he enjoys activity with either sex. He later has a brief affair with an Englishman called Lord Harlech. Harlech becomes obsessed with Amadeo, but his love is not returned. During this period, Amadeo also befriends Bianca Solderini, a wealthy debutante and courtesan whose primary role in life seems to be to throw nightly parties. Amadeo ultimately seduces the willing Bianca.

Marius eventually divulges his vampire nature to Amadeo, who almost immediately begins asking to be made a vampire. Marius shows Amadeo some of what it means to be immortal, and allows him to join him in the hunt on several occasions. He tells Amadeo that they must always focus on killing evildoers. They assist Bianca by murdering her kinsmen who force her to poison those they have borrowed money from.

Eventually, on a night when Marius is out of the country, Lord Harlech breaks into Marius's palazzo and attacks Amadeo, murdering two apprentices in the process. Amadeo kills Harlech, but not before the Englishman wounds him with a poisoned sword. Amadeo falls critically ill, and over several days falls into fever and delusions. Upon returning and finding Amadeo on his deathbed, Marius heals Amadeo's external wounds, cleans and grooms him, then gives him the Dark Gift, turning him into a vampire.

Marius sets out to train Amadeo, and sets up a coffin in a secret basement with his own. Marius retains high expectations of Amadeo, and forces him to continue his education in the arts. Amadeo's transition to vampire is relatively easy for him, although the Dark Gift brings about nightmares of his childhood. Marius and Amadeo return to Russia, where Amadeo visits his old school and home. He finds his elderly mother and father there, reveals that he is alive, and says farewell to them, leaving them with all the money and jewels he has with him. This is generally a happy reunion, as Amadeo is able to let go of his mortal background and his parents are able to see that their beloved son is alive (so to speak) and thriving. Though this reunion allows Amadeo to let go of his mortal background, discovering that his father is alive (Amadeo believed he was dead) and a drunkard hurts him deeply.

Shortly after returning to Venice, the vampire Santino and his coven (the "Children of Darkness") attack Marius' home, kidnap Amadeo and the apprentices, and burn the villa. Marius is burned and thought to be destroyed; his boys are taken to a bonfire that the coven has created and thrown in one by one as Amadeo watches. Santino spares Amadeo and educates him in the laws of the Coven. Amadeo later goes to Paris, changes his name to Armand, and creates his own coven under the Cimetière des Innocents, which Lestat would years later drastically impact thus resulting in the creation of the Théâtre des Vampires (featured in the earlier novel Interview with the Vampire).

Armand also shares with David his version of some of the events recounted by Louis de Pointe du Lac in Interview with the Vampire: the end of the Théâtre des Vampires and the time that Armand and Louis shared together. The book also chronicles Armand's feelings about several of the major vampire characters from the previous books. It is also revealed that Armand thinks he saw Bianca in Paris in the 18th century, and has wondered ever since if Marius made her a vampire.

In the final segment of the book, Armand explains what occurred to him after the final chapters of Memnoch the Devil. At the end of Memnoch the Devil, Armand rushes into the open daylight and appears to be destroyed in a conflagration. Armand explains to David that by some means beyond his understanding he survived, and ended up on a rooftop in a stairwell protected from further exposure to the sun. However, he is badly burned and unable to move or fully function. While in this delirious state, he makes a mental connection to two children in a nearby apartment - Sybelle and Benji. The connection is forged through Sybelle's constant piano playing.

Eventually, Armand is able to reach out to the children and lead them to him. They believe he is an angel, but are moderately unsurprised when Armand divulges his true nature to them. Armand cannot hunt, so the two agree to trick a drug dealer up to the apartment so that Armand may feed on him. The plan works, and ultimately Armand is fully healed. He becomes friends with Sybelle and Benji and ultimately falls in love with them, showing to a certain degree a lolita complex. He shares his wealth with them without limit, mirroring the relationship Marius had with him to a certain degree.

Armand brings them to see Lestat, which he has some concerns about since vampires are traditionally not safe for mortals to be around. After trying to wake Lestat from his catatonic state, Armand returns to Marius's house to discover that Marius has given Benji and Sybelle the Dark Gift. Armand is at first furious at Marius because he wanted Sybelle and Benji to have full, mortal lives. The fact that Benji is ecstatic about the prospect of eternal life, only serves to fuel his anger. Marius explains to Armand that he did it since Armand never could without the two coming to hate him for it. Marius is willing to take the burden of Sybelle and Benji's eventual anger.

Sexual themes

Like many of Rice's novels, The Vampire Armand deals with various aspects of human sexuality. Although the vampires themselves can not have intercourse, they do have a sexuality about them and practice their version of homosexuality, bisexuality and sadomasochism. Such seems to be a recurrent theme throughout Anne Rice's books, as well as pederasty, as Armand is just past puberty when Marius first takes him as a lover. Another example, is instances where Armand is visiting brothels, and gives a detailed description of the "pleasure" he obtained at the hands of "beautiful boys". The mortal human characters are also largely portrayed as bisexual, both in the medieval and modern day periods covered in the novel.

Sex is used throughout the novel as both a reward and a punishment, and to a large extent drives some of the conflict between characters. An example of a such a relationship, is that between Marius and Armand. There are also recurrent themes of BDSM within the novel, as well as disambiguous references to "sleeping beauty" awakening from her slumber, perhaps a reference to Anne Rice's earlier work, the Sleeping Beauty Trilogy.

And the best part for me, is that he was portrayed by Antonio Banderas in Interview with the Vampire.

Hugs,
Keira Kroft
www.keirakroft66.blogspot.com
http://www.facebook.com/keirakroft
http://twitter.com/#!/KeiraKroft66

Terifying Tuesday: Devil's in the Details

Terrifying Tuesday Presents... Devil’s in the Details, A Horror Anthology by J. Gunn A book of seven short scary tales to stand your hair on end, make you rethink reality, watch the people more closely who sit next to you on the bus, and just all around terrify your every sense. If you love to read about the paranormal or wickedly evil advents of people you didn't know would fall off the sane train this is the book for you.

 

About Devil in the Details

What’s more tantalizing or titillating on Halloween then bloody corpses, living nightmares, or hatchets used to cut you to pieces? Inside this anthology you will find more than ones fair share of gore, and atrophy. Don’t blame me for what enters your dreams.

 

 

Excerpt from Devil's in the Details, Horror Anthology by J. Gunn

The day has come to kill you. Everything about you must die because your very presence on earth is wrong. You have been here without a soul for far too long. This world deserves a chance to live on without you, you evil son of a bitch. I will hunt you and when I find you and yours, you all will die.

I finally found you one day at a place secluded from a lot of other people in the dark; I had searched for what felt like ages. But really it had only been days. I walked out there without shoes and my feet were muddy and bleeding. My white dress draped my small form, clinging to me with sweat from walking all the way into the remote locale that your warehouse fortress had to be.

I walked all the way out there with my hatchet in my hand and murder on my mind. It glistened shining in the moonlight. And I saw a light on in the top floor window of your evil factory.

Grass that crackled on the bottom of my feet crunched as I slowly make my way up to the entrance of your ‘palace.’ I see you sitting with your back to the window and the small pains of glass glow with the light from your lamps.

I decided the place would go up in flames easy enough because the building was very old and I would do that after I killed you. It would be harder to tell who killed you if the evidence was all charred or mostly gone. Fire was like water a renewal source, so when it all burned to the ground it would cleanse the earth of your evil as well.

My small hand griped the hatchet hard and my brown eyes burn with tears of hatred for you and what you’ve done. My tear stained face was filled with emotions of many women all at once living in my head. My light olive skin was dirty and parts of my body are bleeding. My white dress is dirty too; matted with filth of the days and hours it took me to get to you.

I hide now staring up at you from behind a tree closest to the window you sit by. You have no idea I’m here, and certainly no idea that anyone knows about you and what you are, too bad for you but someone found you out and now I’m here to kill you. I see also that you have another with you I think I will go after him first then you. You will be the most fun anyway and why not save the best for last.

 

Where you can find J. Gunn:

Writer J. Gunn's Tales of the Scary:
http://writerjgunnstalesofthescary.weebly.com/
Fanpage:
https://www.facebook.com/Writer.JGunn.is.a.Legend

 

Hugs,
Keira Kroft
www.keirakroft66.blogspot.com
http://www.facebook.com/keirakroft
http://twitter.com/#!/KeiraKroft66

 

 

BITTWT:Hssssss! Where Wall Street Vampires Get Their Fangs

Hssssss! Where Wall Street Vampires Get Their Fangs

Father Sebastiaan van Houten, who is neither a priest nor a dentist, is a professional fangsmith — and, he works year-round, not just at Halloween.

He got bit by the vampire bug at age 9 after reading Anne Rice’s vampire novels. You could say he has dentistry in his blood — both his aunt and grandfather were dentists. So, when his grandfather passed away, he tinkered with the dental tools to make himself a pair of fangs and later served as an apprentice to another dentist.

The fangs cost $99 plus tax per pair and are made of  READ MORE...

Terrifying Tuesday: Murky Depths

Keira’s Corner is proud to host a visit from brilliant author Brett Williams.

A little bit about Brett...

Brett Williams lives in Kansas, where he reads, writes, and helps millions of people get their drugs. Having grown up in a small Missouri town, much of his writing includes rural settings and small-town politics. His work has been published by Thuglit, Delirium Books, Hellfire Publishing, and most recently Gallows Press. He writes horror, crime, and anything else he feels like.

Synopsis of Murky Depths

After the Mississippi River floods, leaving the Southeast Missouri a diluvian wasteland, good Samaritan David Miller hops into his boat and trolls to neighboring towns to offer his assistance. Meandering though flooded streets and fields, David finds himself in the tiny town of Clayton. Their homes and business built atop crudely-erected stilt legs, the town has survived the flood unscathed. Intrigued by this strange town, and its unfriendly, pasty-skinned denizens, David credits their eccentricities on backwoods superstition. He couldn't be more wrong. Beneath Clayton's quaint, rustic back-country veneer lurks an ancient history steeped in a most dangerous evil. When he befriends a local couple living on the outskirts of the town, David unwittingly becomes a part of an epic struggle between good and evil—a struggle that will leave him questioning his faith...if he survives.

Peak inside, if you dare...

Despite the fact these people didn't appear the least bit concerned about getting in a boat and floating into town on a Sunday to pick up supplies, me doing the same surely caught their attention. Everyone on the boardwalk stopped to turn and gape at me. A couple came out of shops to glare. But the most off-putting aspect of it all had to be the strangeness of the people. Now I've taken my fair share of trips to other States in the Union. People from the South look distinctly different from people up North. West coast folk have tans and nice physiques. We from the Midwest are a little beefier in general. But these folks, practically neighbors to me, looked different.

The men were all bald, their skin grayish, heads round, mouths wide. I don't care much for talking bad about folks, but these folks were downright ugly. Dare I say, not right.

Here I had come offering help, yet they couldn't have been more prepared unless they'd had a flood wall surrounding the entire city.

As much as I'd have rather turned boat and left, I raised a hand in greeting and called out over the sound of my small engine, “Hello there.”

No reply sounded. Nor did I notice any lips move. Not to be detoured, I navigated my boat to a ramp leading up out of the water to the boardwalk. There I shut off the engine and docked. I lashing my boat good and tight. Stepping out onto the ramp I called out again. “Boy, we could sure use a little rain, don'tcha think?” I chuckled, stepping onto the boardwalk.

“A few more inches would be fine,” a surly man replied. I couldn't tell if he had a deadpan sense of humor, but somehow he seemed much too serious.

Buy it now...on Amazon

Feel free to contact him at info@brettwilliamsfiction.com

Or stalk him of Facebook... http://www.facebook.com/#!/brettwilliamsfiction

Hugs,
Keira Kroft

www.keirakroft66.blogspot.com
http://www.facebook.com/keirakroft
http://twitter.com/#!/KeiraKroft66

Freaky Friday: Bob Dixon

Keira is excited to introduce the awesome Bob Dixon.

His bio

Bob Dixon is a a two-time Guinness World Record holder for the world’s longest cartoon strip. He has created and written a number of comic book titles for Pocket Change Comics, including Assassinette: The Mind Stalker, Psyco Duck, Jester's Dead, The Holy Knight, Riplash, Shadow Slasher, and Warzone 3719. He has written two children books, Rooty the Tree Troll and Holiday Bunny.Bob is the author of Mouch and company :The Dream Psychic and co-author of A Tough Call In addition, Bob is a certified special education teacher who works with children who have emotional behavior disabilities.

 

Synopsis for Mouch and Company: The Dream Psychic

 

Being a teenager is tough enough, but try it when you have schizophrenia and psychic abilities that make all of your imaginary friends real... The odds are against Mouch-he's locked up in Talsom Mental Asylum; his only friends are a sock puppet and his shadow. Worst of all, he suffers from amnesia; his earliest memory is of being found alone in a mall wearing nothing but a pair of polka-dotted boxer shorts, a pair of fluffy white bunny slippers, and a hat made from a newspaper.... and covered in a generous amount of blood. When an elderly gentleman visits him and reveals that Mouch is not crazy but is actually a psychic, Mouch does what any rational person would do-he runs for the door. Once outside of Talsom, Mouch soon finds himself thrust into a battle against a sinister movement of dark psychics who threaten to destroy the entire psychic community.

Reviews

“Once I started reading, I couldn't put it down.”

“It’s a fun story, very well written, flows amazingly.”

“You were able to get in every one of the character's heads, excuse the pun, and I liked knowing what they were all thinking.”

 

Prelude

 

             People who spend too much time alone tend to shy away from society. They often talk to themselves or invent imaginary friends. People who have imaginary companions are considered unstable—insane, even—and in most cases, it is rather hard to argue with the diagnosis. Mouch, however, was the exception. He was as sane as anybody else he knew. Granted, all of his associates resided in a mental asylum, but that is almost not worth mentioning. Mouch’s sock puppet friend, Sherman, was as real as his evil shadow twin, Mav. Mouch was sane. He was the exception—at least in his world—and his world was one that few understood.
              Talsom Asylum was not the sanest place on the planet (and it really wouldn’t matter which planet you were on). It was the type of place where you locked people away and tried to forget that they had ever existed. It sat outside of town on the grounds of what had once been a shopping center, which means that from its conception it was designed for people who are mentally unstable.

 

1

  Talsom Asylum

             The therapeutic floater moved around Room 19. The therapeutic floater was a device that some therapists used with certain patients who had a history of violence. It was a yellow metal ball, roughly the size of a beach ball, with human features painted on it to make the victim—patient—more comfortable. Floaters, however, have two major flaws as well as several lesser problems. The painted faces fail to relax anyone; instead, they generally have the opposite effect, often causing anxiety and, in some cases, paranoia. Additionally, since they are made of a gold colored metal, people tend to steal them, erroneously thinking they are of some value. This problem generally solved itself, because after having a floater in one’s possession for an hour or so, the thief would usually do just about anything to get away from it—up to and including turning themselves in to the police or jumping off of a very high building, depending on whichever they came to first.

             “So, how are you feeling today, Mouch?” asked the metallic ball as it moved around the psych ward.
              “Usually with my hands,” replied the fourteen-year-old boy who was sitting in the middle of the room, looking rather annoyed, his long brown hair covering his eyes and most of his face.
             “Will you skip the sarcastic comments today, Mouch? I am not really in the mood.”
            “Okay.”
            “Are you still hearing voices?”
            “I assume you’re referring to Sherman and Mav?” asked Mouch.
             “Yes, but I thought we agreed that neither of them were real, that they were both nothing more than figments of your imagination,” sighed the therapeutic floater.
             “No,” said Mouch, almost grinning, “that is what you decided. I, on the other hand, have been trying to convince you of their reality. For quite some time, I might add.”
            “Mouch, how many times are we going to have to go over this nonsense?” The floater sounded a bit irritated. “You have been at Talsom Asylum for several years. In that time, we have done both room and body checks on a weekly basis. Nobody besides you has ever seen Sherman or Mav.”
            “Hey, what can I say? Mav is shy and pretty good at hiding.” Mouch smirked. “As for Sherman, you have met him plenty of times.”
            “Having a conversation with a sock puppet is a little different than meeting a living creature,” replied the floater. “You know it is that kind of talk that keeps you here at Talsom.”
            “And all this time I thought it was the guards and locked doors. So silly of me.”
            “Drop the sarcasm, Mouch,” the floater said, the anger noticeable in its voice.
            “Why is the truth considered either insane or sarcastic?”
            “We are not going to do this today, so you might as well quit it right now.”
            “Okay,” replied Mouch, “have it your way.”
            “May we continue now?”
            “Sure. Do you hate your mother?”
            “I just told you we are not doing this today, so stay on task and quit straying.” The floater was obviously irritated.
             “You despise your mother so much that you don’t even want to discuss her. That is truly sad,” Mouch said, his voice eerily calm and soothing.
            “You know as well as I do that we are not here to discuss me or my mother.” The floater was obviously trying to control its anger and not doing a very good job of it. “This is our time to try to solve your problems.”
            “You could always unlock the doors and set me free. I’m not sure, but I believe it would be a big step toward solving most of my problems.”
            “You would be a danger to yourself as well as to society,” the floater said sharply.
             “So says you,” replied Mouch just as sharply.
             “I don’t say that; it’s in your profile. If we set you free, you would either go around freaking out respectable members of society by talking to yourself—”
            “God forbid respectable members of society get freaked out. Guess it would be okay if it were just the non-respectable ones, huh?”
             “Or you would attack someone and blame it on your evil shadow twin,” the floater said, ignoring Mouch’s previous comment.
             “I have to admit, Mav can be rather hostile at times.”
            “Damn it, Mouch!” the floater screamed, enraged. “Sherman and Mav do not exist, and unless you can convince yourself of that, you may never get out of here!”
            “You’ve always claimed our sessions were a search for the truth.” Mouch sounded rather pleased. “That being the case, why would you want me to convince myself to believe a lie?”
            “This session is over. You’re not even making an attempt to solve your problems!”
            The floater turned and left Mouch alone in the room, or as alone as Mouch ever got. He pulled a sock puppet from his pocket and put it on his hand.
             “I think we ticked her off,” said Mouch.
             “She’ll get over it,” said Sherman. The sock puppet seemed to spring to life as he slid onto Mouch's hand.
             “I know,” sighed Mouch. “She always does.”

****

             “Case number 53075,” Dr. Ashlynn Edwards spoke into the digital recorder. “Mouch is still suffering from multiple personality disorder and possible schizophrenia. There have been no evident signs of improvement. I am still using the therapeutic floater to conduct our sessions, although I no longer feel that it is necessary for safety reasons. Today I tried a new form of therapy, the Hanover Method, which is a more forceful approach, addressing his invisible friends as imaginary. It did not go as well as I would have hoped. Our session ended early due to his uncooperative attitude and unwillingness to accept Sherman and Mav as what they really are: creations of a creative mind. At this time, I fear Mouch may never be able to cope with society, much less fit in as a productive member. However, he might be a candidate for Brookewood Academy. I will make a recommendation that he be evaluated, and I’ll let them make that decision.”

****

             Mouch was returned to his small room. He looked around it as he had done so many times since being assigned to Talsom Asylum. The bed was bolted to the floor. A bookshelf hung over the toilet and sink in the corner of the room. There were a few personal items on another small bookshelf next to the bed, but not many.
            After several minutes, Sherman spoke up. “Should we get started on the tunnel again?”
            To anyone watching Mouch from outside of the room, Mouch appeared to be talking to himself, throwing his voice as a ventriloquist does. For Mouch, however, this was just another conversation with a best friend who rarely left his side. Oh, sure, there had been times when various people had tried to separate them. They had even taken Sherman away occasionally, but somehow by the next morning, he had eluded his captors and returned to Mouch’s hand. Doctors were baffled by this, especially when they were sure that they had locked Sherman in a drawer in their office for the night. Mouch's only response when asked about Sherman's reappearance was, “Mav rescued him. The three of us are a family. We’re friends, and nobody will keep us apart.” Eventually the doctors generally decided that having a sock puppet possibly wasn’t such a bad thing and gave up trying to separate the two.
             Mouch held the spoon that he had stolen from the cafeteria in one hand and Sherman in the other. “I still don’t think we’re going to be able to tunnel through 10 feet of concrete with a metal spoon. I mean, I know the doctors all think I’m crazy, but if they catch me doing this, it’ll confirm their suspicions.”
            Sherman frowned. “But they won’t catch you. I’ll keep watch while you and Mav dig, or I can help dig if you or Mav want to keep watch.”
            Mouch looked at Sherman and then at the corner of the room. “To tell you the truth, you’re not that good at digging, and not much better at keeping watch. And Mav, all you do is play jokes on us, like trying to put the dirt back into the tunnel or trying to get us caught by the orderlies.
            “Hmmph,” came a grunt from the shadow in the corner, which, oddly enough, sounded like Mouch throwing his voice again. “I help when you ask me to. Just remember, digging isn’t my thing. I’m more of the 'knock down the door and fight our way out' kind of guy.”
            Mouch shook his head. “Mav, we're not going to fight our way out of here. Besides, both of you have already gotten me into enough trouble with that way of thinking. Sherman, you smart off to the other residents, and then they assume it’s me because we talk so much alike. And you, Mav, shove them once they say something to me and end up getting me into a fight with them. I notice you usually pick the biggest ones to fight. I’ve been meaning to ask you why you do that.”
            “Hmmph.” Another grunt came from the corner. “I always protect you, though.”
            “That you do, my friend,” Mouch said, and with that, they started working on the tunnel. Mouch thought to himself how lucky he was to have his friends, no matter how strange they might seem to the rest of the world.

****

             After working on the tunnel and not getting very far (a metal spoon just doesn’t make much of a dent in a solid rock wall), Mouch drifted off to sleep. His dreams that night were odd, but then again,  that was par for the course for Mouch. He had learned from discussing his dreams during therapy in the past that his dreams were not what most people considered normal. He'd also learned that it was often easiest to just tell people that he didn't remember his dreams. In tonight's dream, he, Sherman, and Mav were walking down the road as usual, when they came across an old teddy bear that had been abandoned by some child after it had apparently outlived its usefulness. Mouch suggested to the other two that they invite the teddy bear to join their group.

            The odd thing was that Mav didn’t object. “The little guy gives me a good feeling inside.” Needless to say, anything that gave Mav a good feeling was worth keeping around. Granted, the teddy bear wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but it is always better to say too little than to say too much.
                  “So, does the stuffed critter have a name?” Sherman asked.
             “Hmm,” thought Mouch. “He can’t talk, so I suppose it would be okay for us to name him. How about Matt?”
            “How ’bout no?” replied Sherman. “It sounds like a name you wipe your feet on.”
            “Jon?”
            “Like a toilet.” Sherman laughed.
             “You’re being difficult.”
            “Just trying to protect the kid. I mean, after all, just because you got stuck with a lame name doesn't mean he has to.”
            “How about Mickey?”
            “Isn’t that the name of a cartoon rat?”
            “Billy?”
            “Like a goat.” Sherman smirked.
                 “How about Percival?”
             Sherman hung his head. “Where are you getting these names from? They’re terrible.”
            “How about Narcissus?” Mouch grinned, showing that he was having fun with Sherman now.
             “Mouch!” Sherman yelled.
             “Nah, that one’s already taken, and it would be way too confusing to have two of us in one group.”
            Mav smiled but remained quiet.
            “I know—we’ll call him Teddy,” Mouch declared.
            “That is absolutely the dumbest thing I have ever heard,” replied Sherman.
               “I doubt that, considering what we have all been through,” said Mouch. “Besides, it may be redundant, but it’s not dumb.”
            “Are you going to at least give him a last name?”
            “Hmm… How about Ragamuffin?” Mouch asked, thinking out loud.
            “I like it,” Mav and Sherman said at the same time.
            “You know, going around with a stuffed animal means everybody is going to laugh at you,” Sherman laughed.
            “Somehow, I doubt going around with him is going to affect my reputation as a sane member of society any more than you or Mav do.”

****

             Mouch awoke the next morning, wiped the sleep out of his eyes, and noticed that the teddy bear from his dreams was at the end of the bed, right beside Sherman. Mouch smiled to himself, thinking that during therapy he would have to try to explain the mysterious appearance of the stuffed animal—either that or they would try to take Teddy from him. Mouch decided that whatever happened, he would handle it with the help of Sherman and Mav, as he always did. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and waited for his door to be unlocked for breakfast.

****

             Mouch was eating breakfast with Sherman and Mav as usual. The hall looked like any normal cafeteria; the tables were twelve feet in length, with benches attached to each side. Mouch could have made friends at Talsom, but he found that the residents were all pretty much crazy, and he never really believed that he belonged there. One resident had multiple personalities and was apparently never quite sure who he was on any given day. One day he was Jesus, and repeatedly tried to heal Mouch. Another day he thought he was Satan, and attempted to trade Mouch a cup of chocolate pudding for his soul. Mouch, oddly enough, found himself quite tempted, but he decided against it just in case the guy had been possessed and the deal was binding.

            Mouch was halfway through his bacon and eggs when an older man sat down. The man was about 6 feet tall. He had clean cut gray hair and glasses. He wore a gray suit with a black tie and a white shirt.
             “Good morning, Mouch,” said the man.
             “Good morning.” Mouch didn't bother to look up.
             “My name is Dr. Jenkins. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time.”
            “Hmm,” replied Sherman. “You’re a doctor. We’re patients against our will. If we say no, we get locked in confinement, so I'm betting we’ll give you that moment whether we want to or not.”
            “No, no, I don’t work directly for Talsom,” the man assured him. “I have no right to take privileges away from you, but I would like to talk to you about getting you out of here.”
            Mouch stopped eating. “Getting me out of here—you mean like for a day pass?”
            Dr. Jenkins leaned forward and stared at the teenager before him. “No, I’m talking about permanently. Taking you to a place where your talents will not only be appreciated but nurtured.” Mouch looked dumbfounded for a second. “But I don’t really have any special talents. I’m just a kid in a mental asylum.”
            “But you don’t really belong here, now do you?” asked Dr. Jenkins, smiling. “We both know you’re not crazy. A bit unique, I agree, but not crazy. So how would you feel about leaving here and going to my academy, where we can teach you to use your special skills and where we don’t lock you in your room at night?”
            “What is this special ability you keep talking about?” Sherman asked.
             “That’s quite simple, my boy.” Dr. Jenkins stood up. “You have psychic abilities.” Mouch stared at the man before him in disbelief.
             “You can quit laughing now. Really, I’m serious… You have psychic abilities.” Dr. Jenkins sat back down as Mouch howled with laughter. 'Why is it that every time I tell someone this, they always think it’s a joke?' thought Dr. Jenkins. 'I suppose I should find a more convincing way of informing people of their special gift. Maybe I should start off the conversation by levitating in front of them.'
            After a moment or two, Mouch composed himself enough to stop laughing. Many of the other residents were staring at him which was odd because disturbances were so frequent at Talsom that the residents tended to ignore almost everything. Mouch had learned, in fact, that no matter how weirdly he acted, if he simply did it quietly, people just seemed to look the other way.
             “Seriously, Doc,” said Mouch, “I really appreciate the laugh this morning, because I definitely can use it before my therapy session. I might even bring up the fact that I have psychic powers during the session just to wig out Dr. Edwards. She seems to get freaked out easily, especially if I tell her something like this then have Mav grab her right afterward. But if there is nothing else to talk about, I have to go.” Mouch started to collect his breakfast plate and silverware. As he reached for his glass, he found it floating through the air toward his hand.
            'Cute trick I learned when I was your age,' he heard Dr. Jenkins say in what seemed like a very loud and echoing voice, but Dr. Jenkins’s mouth was not moving. Mouch found himself a little taken aback by this. He sat back, very unsure of what was going on as the glass hovered untouched above the table in front of him. 'Don’t forget your napkin,' echoed the voice in his head again as the napkin moved to join the glass floating in the air. 'I’m talking to you through telepathy and using a small trick called telekinesis to move these objects. It is but a sample of what we will teach you to do. As I said, this is no joke.'
             Mouch reached up and took the glass and napkin out of the air as Sherman spoke up. “Maybe we should hear him out.”
           “Yeah,” said Mouch, “either that or run like hell. Okay, Doc, let’s hear what you have to say.”
            But before Dr. Jenkins could get the first word out of his mouth, Mouch jumped from the table and began to sprint toward the open doors of the cafeteria, Mav close in tow. Without warning, the doors both swung shut in front of him. He slammed into the swinging doors, which were now as solid as a wall. Mouch, Sherman, and Mav crashed to the floor. They looked around, dazed and confused. Mouch saw the other residents staring at him. Granted, some of the residents were still staring off into space, more intrigued by whatever was going on in their own world than in reality. But the majority were watching as two interns helped Mouch to his feet.
              “Calm down or we will get you something to calm you down.” Mouch knew that meant a very heavy dose of meds, in which case he would sit around all day drooling and wondering what world he was in.
            Dr. Jenkins walked over. He never opened his mouth, but Mouch heard him speak to the interns. 'Remove your hands from the child at once. He is in my care, and everything here is fine.' The interns looked at each other and immediately let Mouch go.  They went back about their duties.
           Mav moved to stand between Mouch and Dr. Jenkins, readying himself to protect Mouch if the need should arise.
            “Mav, is it?” Dr. Jenkins asked. “I’m not here to harm the three of you. Hmm, make that the four of you—I didn’t notice your friend the teddy bear there. I’m simply here to help you. Can we go finish our discussion now?”
            “You can see Mav?” Mouch asked, shocked.
             “When I look into your mind, yes,” said Dr. Jenkins calmly. “As I said, I know you’re not crazy, and you do have special gifts that I feel my academy can teach you how to use. Let’s take a walk out on the grounds so we can speak privately. If at the end of our talk you do not want to come with me, then that is your choice; but at least hear me out.”
            “Okay,” said Mouch, “but answer a question for me. Why couldn’t I get through the doors?”
            “I’m truly sorry about that,” said Dr. Jenkins, smiling, “but, truth be told, I’m getting much too old to chase potential students down anymore, so I shut them on you.”
            “Quite painfully, I might add,” observed Sherman.
            “It served the purpose for which it was intended, my little friend,” Dr. Jenkins said as he rubbed Sherman on the top of the head.
            Mav reached to grab Dr. Jenkins’s hand, but Mouch shook his head. He didn’t believe that Dr. Jenkins had intended them any harm. If he had, he could have easily done so by now.
             “Okay,” said Mouch. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”               

 

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Keira Kroft
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