Santiago’s Snippet- Hospital Aftermath

luxemborgGendarme

Here’s a snippet from the chapter I just finished writing. Jacoby, my main character, was attacked the day before and his big brother, a cop, has just taken him home from the hospital.

‘His brother stepped away from where he’d been checking out all the windows and doors in the condo. He frowned at Jacoby’s light tone to his voice. “Quit acting like nothing’s wrong, Jack,” he grunted.

“There’s nothing wrong right now. I know you’re frustrated, but I’d just as soon put all this out of my mind. You want me to rest, right? So quit acting so serious. You look like Meaty-Fist McChimp, on his way to a goon convention.”

Colt glanced once more out the window, before at last he made an effort. He relaxed his shoulders and the crease between his eyebrows cleared. He chuckled. “I look like Meaty-Fist McChimp, huh? But this is nothing. You should see how I come across when I’m up against someone really obnoxious. We learn how to solid-up like this in cop school.”

“I’m terrified. No, go away, so I can hit the sheets.”

“I’ll be back later. Don’t forget to take your pain reliever before you go to sleep. Here, I’m taking two out the bottle and setting them by this glass of water. Don’t take four by accident.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Your concussion hasn’t made you that confused, I hope.”

“I guess you don’t look much like my Puerto Rican mother, now that I think of it.”

“Too tall?”

“Too hairy in all the wrong places.”

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Once a Ponce, a Time

Ponce,hillsideview

Museo_de_Arte,_Ponce,_Puerto_Rico-Exterior

So here a few images of the beautiful city of Ponce, Puerto Rico, which is where my main character in the novel I’m writing is about to go visit. It is a coastal city and it’s nearby beaches, pearl white light, and powder blue skies are breathtaking.

I think, after seeing these photos that I MUST do closer study, so that I can describe the atmosphere of Ponce with more accurate detail. Husband, can we hop on a plane and visit Puerto Rico? You wouldn’t want to get in the way of RESEARCH!

Here is a video vlog I found of a young woman’s recent trip to Ponce. It’s cute, it shows where she and her family stop to get treats.

To Sail Away to Where?

strangethecaptainsdream

Sometimes we want to sail away;

Leave troubles back to yesterday,

Off to lands we’ve never seen,

and the horizon wide and clean.

~                   ~                   ~

Tucked into our own tidy berth;

Round windows glimpse the distant earth,

And ladies wear their evening gowns,

The ship’s hooves against the sea pounds.

~                   ~                     ~

Here you’re safe in your imaginary;

Threats of storms create adventuring,

Your soul is stirred by the wind in your face,

Leave the flotsam behind without a trace.

~                  ~                    ~

Onboard you go, and so to think;

Lights of home glitter and drift into the drink,

Should’ves and half-accomplishments chatter,

Impish dreams mix childhood into adult matter.

~                     ~                      ~

Here into the vast open-wide sea;

Lifespans reach for eternity,

Surfaces shift and bob under your feet,

Until the steadiness of land is sweet.

~                         ~                           ~

Then you can come home again;

Focus on life and family and friends,

Until at last we take the last journey,

Heaven’s shore in the distance gleams.

 

Slipping Away Back and Then Now

myhomeoflongago

Time.

and presence.

Sometimes there’s these time traveler movies. I’ve seen them where the time traveler goes and inhabits his/her own body but in the past. Like they’re taking over the moment the past self lived and redoing it. They stay for a moment, change a thing or two, and then they want to get back to their present moment.

But you have to wonder. Where was the previous self when the future self came and took over? Buried under there? Asleep? REPLACED?

And, if the future self lived the scene of trauma instead, then the past self wasn’t there to learn any lessons. Therefore, how could the future self know that the past self made a mistake, feel all the emotion that drives him/her to fix things, gain perspective enough to say; ‘Gee, if I had only done THAT instead of this…’ if the past self were replaced at that critical moment?

Therefore, time.

and presence.

Drag your consciousness around when your loved ones are near, because they might one day move on. Slap the cheeks of your awareness and say, ‘wake up and give more hugs, and listen more and cherish this time, right here and now.’

I often wonder, if I’m supposed to love God with my whole heart and mind and soul, am I failing Him when I skip away and focus on other things?

But that’s why He gave us the second commandment. Love your neighbor as yourself. In Jesus’ commandments, He gives us latitude. In this life, you can love, Him, other people and even, whew, yourself.

So, love, right now.

 

Da-Dum-Ta-Da! Another Cinderella!

Here it is, everyone! Released on Amazon today! (A bit early, I might add!)

Here is the kindle version:

From that page, if you’d rather have a print version, you should be able to find it!

My daughter Meribeth helped me with the cover. I’m happy to see it in print at last!

Let us dance!

DancersPinkDress

Atlantia-Ella

AnotherCinderellaFrontandBackCover

Hey everyone! Soon I’ll be releasing my newest book! It’s a Christian take on an old fairy tale. Actually, it begins just a few weeks after Cinderella left to marry the prince. I’ve always been intrigued by her step-sisters, and I wanted to redeem one of them. Here’s the blurb on the back of the book!

Tagline: Cinderella’s stepsister meets an imp, a tinker, and her true self.

It just isn’t fair that Cinderella ends up with the prize and Atlantia is stuck with the drudgery.

Instead of a godmother, Atlantia gets an imp. Instead of a romantic coach ride to a magnificent ball, she ends up down a side street at the wrong end of town. And instead of a handsome Prince, the only man interested in her is an impertinent tinker.

Obviously, something needs to change. Atlantia just didn’t expect the transformation to begin with herself. Was it possible God wanted her to learn something, not only about escaping hardship, but also about herself?

A Dancing Girl in the Desert Poem

DancingGirl-LikeNavarti

From my book called ‘The Spinster’s Code’. This is the song the red-headed minstrel Trey wrote and sang for Navarti. (He is, in fact, in love with her and is the one who can break the code and win her heart.)

The desert wind will blow away

            The curtain of the sand

            And will reveal what villagers say

            The fairest bird in the land

                                   ~           

            Its feathers glisten duskily

            Its eyes flash fire like gems

            Its voice sends warbles huskily

            From which its sadness stems

                                   ~

            For though meant to fly

            And meant to soar

            The days go by

            With flight no more

                              ~

            For a cage holds it hard and fast

            With bars of gleaming gold

            The bird must watch as life goes past

            Until released, stolen or sold

                                      ~

            Who will come to open the door?

            Will freedom find its wings?

            Will life fulfill and feathers soar

            Of this hope the bird oft sings

                               ~

            For though meant to fly

            And meant to soar

            The days go by

            With flight no more

Another Cinderella- First Snippet

CindellaBirds

This snippet is from the book I intend to put out by September. It’s called, ‘Another Cinderella’. It’s one of the last overtly Christian stories I wrote, back before I gave up on the impossibility of getting an agent or a Christian publisher.

In this tale Cinderella’s stepsister is gradually transformed into the new slave at home, beginning a few weeks after Cinderella left to marry the prince.

Atlantia is angry and is stubbornly determined NOT to become another Cinderella.

~           ~           ~           ~           ~           ~           ~           ~           ~           ~           ~           ~

     ‘To Atlantia’s uttermost surprise the little woman took her umbrella and rapped Atlantia smartly on the head with it.

            “Well, it’s about time!” the funny woman spoke, with a voice that croaked and splintered. “Let me in! You’re lucky enough to have me, so step aside!”

            The strange woman formed her free hand and her umbrella hand into a sort of wedge and barged her way right by her, seeing as how Atlantia’s mouth was still open in shock. Then she stood in the kitchen and turned triumphantly around and stared at her.

            “Who are you?” gasped Atlantia, rubbing the top of her head. Then she got annoyed. “And what do you want?”

            “It’s you that wants me, brat, although you haven’t figured that out yet.”

            “I most certainly don’t want you, so go away,” said Atlantia.

            “Humph. Just wait until tomorrow, and see if you want me then,” said the impossible woman.

            “I will never want you,” stated Atlantia.

            “Humph,” the woman said again. She glared at Atlantia, who glared right back. Atlantia was about to send her away, but she saw the woman’s fist tighten on her umbrella weapon.

            “Who are you?” she asked the frizzy woman again.

            “My name is Zipporah.”

            “Why are you here?”

            “I’m here to help you, of course.”

            “Help me!” exclaimed Atlantia, rubbing the top of her head again. “I’d never allow myself to be helped by a person like you!”

            “Fine then. I’ll go, and you’ll soon miss me! But just remember; only a select few get sent helpers. Cinderella had a helper, if you must know. A godmother.”

            “You’re my godmother?” asked Atlantia unbelievingly.

            “You’re too much of a brat to rate a godmother,” sneered the unpleasant woman. “I’m an imp. Your imp! And I don’t come unless I feel like it!” And forming her hands into a wedge again she pushed by Atlantia once more and on out the door.’

Soul Beauty and the Best Dance

garden dance black and white

Take a dance out in the garden;

While the Ball continues inside,

A hidden moment with your secret love;

Faraway dreams off into the night.

 

There are moments that sparkle in life;

Pure happiness though you’re awake,

Behind you hours of life’s preparation;

Right now this memory you’ll take.

 

For a shining single moment;

The world could offer nothing more,

The dancing companion is your ideal;

Loss remains inside, behind the metal door.

 

But what if that moment stretched to always;

If your heart’s deepest love were true,

What if faraway a glistening castle;

Waits for dream’s arrival, and you.

 

You might call that future Heaven;

The fact we long for it is proof,

No matter how lumpy,  or scarred-up we feel;

When we’re loved by Him our soul beauty is real.

Decision Made For Next Release

MissFoley'sFountain

I’m going to put out my next book in September. It’s called The Time Mechanic. I remember sitting at the coffee shop in Snoqualmie, getting my original inspiration for the story. I was intrigued with the idea that a man was just sitting there one moment, ordinary to go through his days, and suddenly he became a… (Time Wizard, I originally called it- but I won’t write wizards. So, Time Lizard, my brain goes to, which doesn’t work AT ALL.)

Anyway, an ordinary man one minute, becoming the Time Mechanic the next.

Here’s the poem I begin the story with. (If I’ve posted this poem before I don’t remember it so it doesn’t count.)

 

‘Not the fairest, the wealthiest, or the mighty one full of hate;

One can have a humble profession yet discharge a noble fate;

Not the shining star at the table or the envious in the shade;

It’s from ordinary friends that Time Mechanics are made.’

 

‘Not skirmishes; nor pestilences, battles or politics;

These problems are for all humanity to fix;

Time Mechanics come to mend the world’s pain;

They arise from the steam; then find obscurity again.’