Hi, Stephen. Thanks so much for hosting me today. It’s a pleasure to be here talk about my latest release, Menagerie. It’s a mixed-genre compilation of thirteen short stories. Each tour stop features a different title and I tell how the story came about. Today’s story is Stony Creek, a contemporary fiction piece.
I grew up in a small town, and while it’s still considered small, the area is growing. What was once farmland has turned into housing developments. Many parts of Texas are the same as people flock here in droves. Last year, I read an article about an unincorporated community in the Texas Hill Country. Country music fans might recognize the name Luckenbach from a popular song by the late Waylon Jennings.
Like many parts of the state, that area is developing fast. Not surprising, a wealthy developer is looking to capitalize on the popularity of Luckenbach by building a mega-development, distillery, shopping centers, and such. With things like this happening, soon there won’t be any land, and the simple, laid-back way of life that many choose to live will be no more.
Stony Creek is the story of Brooke Hudson, a marketing specialist, who returns to her hometown upon her father’s death. She chose a life in the city, far away from the ranch where she grew up. She soon learns that a real-estate developer wants to buy not only her ranch, Stony Creek, but other pieces of property as well. He wants to build a winery, housing developments, shopping centers, and a resort.
When her boss asks her to convince the citizens of the nearby town of Stanton this development is for the best, Brooke is torn. Ranching has been a way of life for most of the area’s citizens and she hates to see her hometown destroyed by greedy developers. But not doing what her boss asks will result in her not having a job. Below is an excerpt.
Excerpt:
Brooke took the long way back to the ranch, driving through the countryside. She needed time to think. To reflect. She drove past the Three Forks, Smitty’s place, and several smaller farms. Many of them had been in the same family for generations. Most of the houses weren’t fancy, but they were home.
The people who lived in Stanton were working-class families. It was a close-knit community. It wasn’t as if they shunned outsiders, but they enjoyed living their lives like their parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents had. They didn’t care about resorts, golf courses, condominiums, and upscale shopping centers. These things would be a detriment to their way of life.
If Brooke sold the ranch, it would be the first step to that happening. She was in tears by the time she arrived home.
Blurb:
King’s. The Tower of London. Glass. What do these have in common?
Each is a famous menagerie.
While this Menagerie doesn’t focus on exotic animals, it does contain a collection of stories that explore various trials people face and how their reactions shape their worlds.
Survivors of haunted bridge. Women who wait while their husbands fight a war. Former partners reuniting to solve a cold-case murder.
These are just three of the thirteen stories in this compendium, encompassing past and present, natural and supernatural, legend and reality. The genres and timelines are varied, but there’s a little something for everyone who enjoys reading about simpler times and small-town life.
Hi, Stephen. Thanks so much for hosting me today. It’s a pleasure to be here talk about my latest release, Menagerie. It’s a mixed-genre compilation of thirteen short stories. Each tour stop features a different title and I tell how the story came about. Today’s story is Stony Creek, a contemporary fiction piece.
I grew up in a small town, and while it’s still considered small, the area is growing. What was once farmland has turned into housing developments. Many parts of Texas are the same as people flock here in droves. Last year, I read an article about an unincorporated community in the Texas Hill Country. Country music fans might recognize the name Luckenbach from a popular song by the late Waylon Jennings.
Like many parts of the state, that area is developing fast. Not surprising, a wealthy developer is looking to capitalize on the popularity of Luckenbach by building a mega-development, distillery, shopping centers, and such. With things like this happening, soon there won’t be any land, and the simple, laid-back way of life that many choose to live will be no more.
Stony Creek is the story of Brooke Hudson, a marketing specialist, who returns to her hometown upon her father’s death. She chose a life in the city, far away from the ranch where she grew up. She soon learns that a real-estate developer wants to buy not only her ranch, Stony Creek, but other pieces of property as well. He wants to build a winery, housing developments, shopping centers, and a resort.
When her boss asks her to convince the citizens of the nearby town of Stanton this development is for the best, Brooke is torn. Ranching has been a way of life for most of the area’s citizens and she hates to see her hometown destroyed by greedy developers. But not doing what her boss asks will result in her not having a job. Below is an excerpt.
Excerpt:
Brooke took the long way back to the ranch, driving through the countryside. She needed time to think. To reflect. She drove past the Three Forks, Smitty’s place, and several smaller farms. Many of them had been in the same family for generations. Most of the houses weren’t fancy, but they were home.
The people who lived in Stanton were working-class families. It was a close-knit community. It wasn’t as if they shunned outsiders, but they enjoyed living their lives like their parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents had. They didn’t care about resorts, golf courses, condominiums, and upscale shopping centers. These things would be a detriment to their way of life.
If Brooke sold the ranch, it would be the first step to that happening. She was in tears by the time she arrived home.
Blurb:
King’s. The Tower of London. Glass. What do these have in common?
Each is a famous menagerie.
While this Menagerie doesn’t focus on exotic animals, it does contain a collection of stories that explore various trials people face and how their reactions shape their worlds.
Survivors of a haunted bridge. Women who wait while their husbands fight a war. Former partners reuniting to solve a cold-case murder.
These are just three of the thirteen stories in this compendium, encompassing past and present, natural and supernatural, legend and reality. The genres and timelines are varied, but there’s a little something for everyone who enjoys reading about simpler times and small-town life.
Originally posted on When Angels Fly: Please welcome Stephen Geez to my blog. Hello, Stephen, nice to have you here this morning. Shall we have a chat? Please introduce yourself to those reading this blog post. I’m Stephen Geez, author of novels in various genres, the GeezWriter How-to series for authors, oodles of scripts for…
In this retro-futuristic era, the old look and reproduce as if in the prime of their lives. The babies delivered into this world—sickly, fighting for every second to have a slim chance of survival. To turn this existence on its heels, it requires something … or someone … Special.
When a healthy baby is discovered by Nurse Celestine, she makes it her mission to protect what she believes is a well-kept secret.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for the observant Nurse Trudy to put the pieces together to utilize for her personal gain as well as orchestrate Nurse Celestine’s ruin. Can Nurse Celestine succeed in combating the determined Nurse Trudy, or will all that is special be exposed and possibly destroyed? Find out in Reversal.
Babies.
Mere infants … fragile, feeble, sickly and flushed of color, lined the nursery of St. Agnes General Hospital NICU Department. This was nothing new, of course. They were all born that way. Those who made it past their first week of birth were among the blessed.
An almost invisible film of mauve and viridian—a sheath that covered their reality—was the translucent haze that weighed upon all things. It was as though the colors had been embedded into the fabric of the world, tinging everything—no matter what its candescence—in those pigments. The darkest of the dark, and the lightest of the light, all seemed ominous and void of vitality.
Dreary. That was the word that best described this place, these people … these babies.
The atmosphere was inauspicious. Everything seemed afflicted with lifelessness. The hospital, antiquated. Though hundreds of years in the future, the setting felt like a 1950’s time warp. The perimeter of the hospital was as inert as its own appearance—scant trees, barren bushes, leaf and debris covered streets.
The perils that distressed St. Agnes General Hospital was the lack of advanced technologies. It was as though the last ten centuries had never transpired. An entire fragment of time had evidently disappeared leaving behind a woefully dull and mechanically limited world which was forced to operate within its mediocre means.
The hallways of St. Agnes General were long, ominous, and cold. The walls were painted in a tainted light green. The doctors wore perfectly pressed white coats which covered their black business suits. Their hair, slick—brushed back into a tight, shiny do. The nurses donned white nursing uniforms with white hats which had red crosses in the center. Skirts at knee length, taupe pantyhose and white nurse shoes. They looked perfect. In complete contrast to their locality.
Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep; first in dots then in dashes. The sound carried a cadence of absolute fear which could give any person goosebumps—that river of icy-hot pimples that ran all over one’s body. Yet the screeching of the monitor’s blaring was far louder than the unhealthy baby that attempted to cry its woes. His voice was as decrepit as his leathery, bony flesh.
Nurse Juliette was an excessively feminine, soft-spoke Asian woman with the tiny frame. Blue-black hair fell to her waist, and Juliette’s spotless face was softly made up.
“Sh, sh, sh. There, there, little one. It’ll all be over soon, I promise. Mommy already knows that you’ll be going to a better place,” whispered Nurse Juliette who was sitting next to his cradle. She gently shook the child’s puny legs. Nurse Juliette’s tone was void of emotion, as though this were an everyday occurrence.
In all actuality, it was.
In complete opposition to the old-looking, ailing child was Nurse Juliette whose stature was strong, young, healthy and … well, perfect. So was the child’s mother and father who both waited for the news of his fate from their hospital room.
And, just as Nurse Juliette swayed the hardly sobbing yet profusely ailing child, the infant took in a sharp lungful and exhaled his last breath.
“Ahh, poor child,” Nurse Juliette concluded, then proceeded to get out of her seat to pick up the phone. “Nurse Celestine? Yes? Good. Please advise the Smithson family that the child has passed.”
“Certainly,” replied the voice on the opposite end. Neither one of the voices even remotely somber.
“The Curse of Dead Horse Canyon: Cheyenne Spirits”
by Marcha Fox and Pete Risingsun
“Infused with a sense of danger, the intricate plot and dramatic storyline create a breathtaking and intense story.” –Readers’ Favorite 5-Star Review
BLURB
Charlie Littlewolf knows there’s something suspicious about the accident that killed his best friend. Determined to solve the mystery, he must return to a way of life he’s shunned for decades. Will the Cheyenne grandfather spirits respond before a black ops team kills him, too?
BOOK TRAILER
EXCERPT
HIGHWAY 17
RURAL FALCON RIDGE
FASTING VIGIL DAY 1
April 20, Friday
5:55 a.m.
It was still dark when Charlie sat before the fire pit the next morning. He made an offering, then began a ceremonial fast. The last time was under Eaglefeathers’s direction, prior to leaving for college. It was difficult. He didn’t make it through the entire four days, even with his grandfather’s encouragement. He berated himself for being young, weak, and foolish.
Upon dousing the fire, he climbed into his pickup to return to the accident site. The headlights swept the road ahead, beams vanishing as they probed empty space beyond sheer drops. Their lethal potential blared through him as never before, fingers tightening their grip on the steering wheel.
When he arrived the traffic cones were gone. It looked the same as always. Vain hopes flared. Was it only a nightmare?
A cliff face loomed skyward beside the cutout as he pulled in, killed the lights, then the ignition. Darkness consumed the cab. He got out and closed the door. Its report rebounded as his rantings had two days before.
There was no moon, dawn’s light occulted by towering rock. Walking blindly bordered on insanity, yet using the truck’s emergency flashers or his flashlight felt wrong. Inability to see the dangers ahead fit why he was there.
His footsteps crunched along the pebble-strewn shoulder as he felt his way to the tailgate. Metal screeched as he pulled it open and sat down to wait for his eyes to adjust.
Stars appeared, starting with the brightest. Jupiter lingered toward the west, Mars and Saturn overhead, flanking the Milky Way. Shadows took shape where the celestial dome ended beyond distant trees. It seemed impossible that starlight alone could light the way, yet it did.
He slid from his perch, crossed the road, and resumed the same position as the day before. The leaves of the aspen to his right sang in the morning breeze.
Jupiter faded as the sky greyed with first light.
Like his anger at Maheo.
Grief, however, remained, his gut eviscerated.
His mind shifted to Bryan. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in his life. Even when life placed them on opposite sides of the globe.
As adolescents they discovered they had the same birthday and declared themselves twins. They shared youthful adventures, the pains of growing up. Teen crushes, and heartbreak. They encouraged each other through hard times, even when geographically separated. Their ability to sense each other’s distress was uncanny, this time no different.
Except this time Bryan couldn’t tell him what was wrong.
There was something he should do.
But what?
Why did the accident occur here? Spirits of all kinds occupied the area. Eaglefeathers made sure he knew its history.
Many years before the government forced their people to leave the land where they were born—land that Maheo gave to them. Rather than go to Indian Territory in Oklahoma or other remote reservations, a small band slipped away and came there.
A few years later white men lusting after silver and gold arrived. Conflicts arose that resulted in them forcing innocent people as well as a small herd of horses to perish in that canyon.
Their medicine man, Black Cloud, blessed the area with protection from further exploitation by the white man. Should any attempt to do so, he would not prosper.
Did Bryan stumble onto the curse? If so, how? He never thought of him as white, yet he was. Had he discovered something? His white brother, like himself, was driven by curiosity and clever at unearthing secrets.
His thoughts halted at the sound of a vehicle approaching on the other side of the road. The coming weekend brought increased traffic. He stood when the driver of a white SUV full of kids stopped and rolled down his window.
“Do you need help?” he asked. “Did your truck break down?”
Charlie forced a smile. If only it were that simple. “No. I’m okay. Thank you.”
The man waved, rolled up his window and drove away, expression puzzled.
He sat back down and contemplated how Bryan and his grandfather had affected his life while the sun crawled across the cloud-strewn sky. At times it felt as if they were standing beside him, that he could see them if he were to open his eyes. Any comfort it wrought, however, quickly collapsed to another onslaught of soul-crushing anguish.
His thoughts stalled at the sound of another car, this time on his side of the road. He got up when it came to a stop and the motorist, an older gentleman, rolled down the passenger side window. The man’s grey eyes were kind and sympathetic.
“Did you know them?” he asked.
Touched by the simple words of understanding, Charlie nodded, any response stuck behind the lump in his throat. The man offered him a bottle of water. It was rude to refuse a gift, so he accepted it and whispered thanks.
He no sooner got settled when another vehicle came along, this time a pickup. It didn’t slow down, much less stop. The dust it left behind invaded his parched throat and triggered a coughing fit. He eyed the water bottle.
No food, no water.
He toughed it out, grateful it was only the first day of his fast.
The sun crept westward, dropping toward the mountain tops beyond the yawning canyon. Eaglefeathers’s absence as well as Bryan’s loomed as the night.
The day felt wasted. He knew no more now than when it began.
As he prayed to close the day’s efforts, lamenting the loss of his grandfather’s guidance, an impression struck at the speed of thought.
Why did you not bring him with you?
He stiffened at the ridiculous thought. How? His grandfather had crossed over years before—
—but still lived in the world of spirits.
Of course. How could he be so dense?
His teachings lived on as well.
As he considered the source of the mysterious words, a vision appeared in his mind. The old man had given him many things over the years whenever he and his father, Frank Littlebear, traveled to the reservation to attend a ceremonial sweat, a sun dance, sacred buffalo hat, the sacred arrow, or fasting at Novavose, their name for the Sacred Mountain.
He remembered showing them to Bryan, who compared them to Boy Scout Merit Badges he received as he worked toward the rank of Eagle Scout. Charlie didn’t argue, but knew his were different. They were sacred. Blessed by his grandfather, a strong and worthy medicine man. Each item retained a measure of his essence. Others were handed down, like his medicine bundle.
All were stored in the chest he and Bryan built from local cedar. He bowed his head, ashamed he’d further ignored his teachings. Again it made sense no answers had come. He imagined the old man’s piercing look, awed when rather than scolding peace surrounded him like a blanket in the cool of night.
Return tomorrow with the sacred items. Do that which you were taught and you will receive answers.
His head bowed in humble thanks. Venus winked as a beacon on a far mountain top, waxing crescent moon trailing in her wake.
MEET THE AUTHORS
Marcha Fox
Marcha Fox earned a bachelor’s degree in physics from Utah State University in 1987, which facilitated a 20+ year career at NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. Her interests expand far beyond the world of aerospace and hard science, however. The esoteric realm of metaphysics and all things weird and wonderful hold her interest as well.
Marcha Fox
When her attempt to debunk astrology backfired, she pursued knowledge in that field. She graduated from the International Academy of Astrology’s professional development program in 2012 and is the sole proprietor of ValkyrieAstrology.com. Much of the popular website’s content can be found in “Whobeda’s Guide to Basic Astrology.”
Her previous fiction work includes her epic Star Trails Tetralogy series, which has been highly acclaimed for its family-oriented plot as well as its palatable and STEM-friendly science content described in detail on http://www.StarTrailsSaga.com.
Born in Peekskill, New York, she has lived in California, Utah, and Texas in the course of raising her family of six children, now grown. Besides writing, she pampers her two cats, maintains an active astrology practice of international clients, and tries to keep up with her home, yard, friends, and family.
Pete Risingsun is an enrolled member of the Northern Cheyenne Tribe who has served as a spirit helper to medicine men in ceremonial sweat lodges. He’s a proud fifth generation descendant of Chief Iron Shirt, who was a lodge keeper and powerful medicine man.
Pete Risingsun
Born in 1950, he was raised on a small ranch east of Busby, Montana. He attended Montana State University, then worked for Exxon in Billings, Montana for a year before returning home to the reservation as adult education director for the Northern Cheyenne tribe where he also raised black angus cattle and bred championship Quarter horses. He has served as a Tribal Council member and was the first Northern Cheyenne elected to serve as a Rosebud County Commissioner.
He’s the proud father of one daughter and grandfather to two. Pete is currently retired, but in addition to co-writing The Curse of Dead Horse Canyon: Cheyenne Spirits” he makes and sellssweet grass braids, a sacred plant used in various ceremonies.
Welcome to Steven Neil, my guest blogger on tour today!
Book
The Merest Loss by Steven Neil ISBN: 1788039718
Blurb
‘A story of love and political intrigue, set against the backdrop of the English hunting shires and the streets of Victorian London and post-revolutionary Paris.
When Harriet Howard becomes Louis Napoleon’s mistress and financial backer and appears at his side in Paris in 1848, it is as if she has emerged from nowhere. How did the English daughter of a Norfolk boot-maker meet the future Emperor? Who is the mysterious Nicholas Sly and what is his hold over Harriet? Can Harriet meet her obligations and return to her former life and the man she left behind? What is her involvement with British Government secret services? Can Harriet’s friend, jockey Tom Olliver, help her son Martin solve his own mystery: the identity of his father?’
Genres
Historical Fiction and Victorian Historical Romance
Bio
Steven has a BSc in Economics from the London School of Economics, a BA in English Literature and Creative Writing from the Open University and an MA in Creative Writing from Oxford Brookes University. He has been a bookmaker’s clerk, bloodstock agent, racehorse breeder and management consultant amongst other professions in his varied career. He is married and lives in rural Northamptonshire, England. The Merest Loss is his debut novel.
Q & A SIX
Getting to know Steven Neil, the author of THE MEREST LOSS.
A story of love and political intrigue, set against the backdrop of the English hunting shires and the streets of Victorian London and post-revolutionary Paris.
Writing Community
What has been your experience of the writing community?
There are a number of writing communities I can identify. There is an active group of authors in my county community (Northamptonshire, UK) who all support each other. My local independent booksellers, Old Hall Bookshop, Brackley, The Booksmith, Weedon Bec, Kenilworth Books and Delapre Abbey shop have all been very supportive, as have the National Stud and the National Horseracing Museum shops in Newmarket.
Who has helped you in the writing community?
Probably too many to mention, but I’ll try: Judith Allnatt, Sue Bentley, Suzanna Burke, D.I. Finn, D.E. Howard, Joy York, Norway Ellesea, Amie O’Brien, DK Marley, Helen Hollick, Reading is our Passion, Chill with a Book and many more.
Are you a member of any writing organisations and how have they helped?
Independent Author Network (IAN) was helpful in getting me started. I am a member of the Historical Novelist Society but I can’t say I have gained anything from being a member. The Rave Reviews Book Club (RRBC) has supported me from the outset and Nonnie Jules and the team do a great job in promoting independent authors. Using #WritingCommunity on Twitter has been a positive experience.
What use have you made of social media?
I use Twitter all the time. I’ve grown 2500 followers of like-minded people and I enjoy the interaction.
What has been your experience of social media?
I find Twitter relatively friendly and people are generally supportive. I was a member of Facebook for a short time but I found it aggressive, confrontational and unpleasant. I am no longer a member.
What are the best aspects of the writing community?
When it works well, the writing community is fantastic. People willingly ‘pay it forward’ without any expectation of reciprocity. I have experienced this on many occasions.
What are the worst aspects of the writing community?
People who follow you on social media and then bombard you with ‘buy my book’ tweets and DMs. Some advice: it doesn’t work!
What are your plans for the future?
I’m continuing to grow my Twitter network and I’m extending the range of independent booksellers who stock The Merest Loss.
Do you have a website and if so, how has it helped?
I don’t have a formal website but I do have an Independent Author Network author page. I think the important thing is that anyone who wants to find you can access a page with buy links. IAN does that at low cost without the need for regular maintenance.
What advice would you give new authors?
A cliché I know, but the more you put in the more you will get back.
To follow along with the rest of the tour, please visit the author’s tour page on the 4WillsPublishing site. If you’d like to book your own blog tour and have your book promoted in similar grand fashion, please click HERE.
The Blurb: The CHOICE, the unexpected heroes is the sequel to The CONTRACT. Published June, 2019, it picks up where the first book ends, at Begert Air Force Base in northern California.
General Taylor, the base commander invites Admiral Parker to the base to help him determine who is behind the murders of two civilians. It becomes evident that their deaths are part of a bigger plan involving world domination, and the general has an urgent need to thwart that plan. The General and Admiral become engrossed in a mystery which implicates key D.C. officials. They create a highly confidential team to study the evidence and pursue leads. This team eventually uncovers a traitorous cabal that has as its goal – world domination. The cabal has a membership that includes highly positioned government officials, and as such, they are unsure who can be trusted and who cannot.
I purchased The Choice by Gwen M. Plano (Fresh Ink Group) after seeing its video trailer, and I read it without having read the first installment in the trilogy, of which this is the second. That is risky with any trilogy, but The Choice felt like a standalone story to me, albeit set amid a longer story arc, so I think it still makes a good entry-point. If you only start trilogies at part one, look for The Contract co-authored by John W. Howell and Gwen M. Plano.
The Choice leads with a mystery arising from the ending of the first book. An Air Force base’s commander is working on that with a civilian when members of the President’s Cabinet become targets for assassination. Like with all good thrillers, the closer the closer our heroes get to the truth, the more complications arise, especially when people involved in the investigation become targets.
Gwen Plano straddles suspense, mystery, and at times thriller in this character-centered supernatural tale. The characters felt real to me, with quick bursts of detail rather than bogging down on everybody’s back-story. Commander Taylor reminded me of my all-brass uncle, so the military aspect felt authentic. Donna Parker does a good job making us care about her and the commander. Of course, some romance might blossom, not without complications; and the machinations surrounding a TV expose hit on one of my favorite topics: media manipulation. Author Plano has a comfortable narrative voice, urgent or emotional when needed. I rather liked the ending as a stand-alone, too, and I look forward to reading the third installment. I recommend The Choice as what they call “beach reading,” except this one is good year round.
Growing up in Southern California, Gwen Plano loved learning. She earned four degrees and taught and served in universities and colleges across the country and in Japan. Now retired, she is focused on writing. Gwen’s first book, Letting Go into Perfect Love, is a memoir. Her second book, The Contract, is a thriller co-authored by John W. Howell. Gwen lives in the Midwest with her husband, and when she is not writing, she is traveling, usually to see one of her four children and many grandchildren.
It’s difficult for any writer to produce sustained suspense in a short story, but D.L. Finn accomplishes that and more quite well in Red Eyes in the Darkness. The story is narrated first-person by a woman who appears to be stalked by their former brother-in-law, the man she believes killed her sister. Worse, evidence apparently planted by him has made her and her husband suspects. Their family and friends have turned against them, and the local sheriff humors her concerns with a mien of suspicion.
The suspense begins with her waking and believing the man she refers to as It is in the house, having cut their power. We hear his voice and see other clues, but have no idea of his intentions, which appear to be to taunt more than pounce. More than leaving us waiting and listening, though, author Finn punctuates the scenes with gunshots, blood, and even more mysteries. Then her husband has a dream offering more mystery. Even when our couple flees the area, the suspense follows them and brings them back.
The book has a satisfying denouement, and it hints at a greater story with supernatural characters living among us. I always enjoy reading work by D.L. Finn. In the era of so much bad writing, it is refreshing to breeze through narrative presented clearly and even punctuated correctly. Her characters are real enough to come alive, and her description conjures imagery without bogging down the plot. My favorites are one-liners like, “My heart was trying to escape my chest while my breath struggled to enter it.” Unlike the narrator’s struggles, my praise comes easily. I highly recommend this as a great stand-alone story of mystery and suspense, but also as entrée to the fantastic worlds of author D.L. Finn.
D.L. Finn is an independent California local who encourages everyone to embrace their inner child. She was born and raised in the foggy Bay Area, but in 1990 relocated with her husband, kids, dogs, and cats to the Sierra foothills in Nevada City, CA. She immersed herself in reading all types of books, but especially loved romance, horror, and fantasy. She always treasured creating her own reality on paper. Finally, being surrounded by towering pines, oaks, and cedars, her creativity was nurtured until it bloomed. Her creations vary from children’s books, young adult fantasy, and adult paranormal romance to an autobiography with poetry. She continues on her adventures with an open invitation for her readers to join her.
Mind-Shaft is a collection of five paranormal short stories along with one that is more of a novella. I thoroughly enjoyed every tale, all of which reminded me of my old favorite of the TV anthologies, Rod Serling’s Night Gallery. Each has twists and surprises, always dipping into the supernatural with a dose of horror and themes such as retribution and rightful assumption.
“Sisterly Love” sets the tone with a creepy look at sibling rivalry exploding into a potentially lethal and gruesome plot. “Halloween Homecoming” is more of a traditional monster tale, except we cannot always tell who are the monsters. “A Place So Cold” surprised me a bit, starting out more like a police procedural with a psychic aiding the FBI’s search for missing children, some already found too late. Soon it turns into an urgent thriller, racing toward what everybody desperately hopes will be a last-second rescue, but which we have no right to expect. “Spin” offers a curious hypnotism theme, with a woman seeking psychiatric help to escape devastating nightmares. I loved the rather ironic ending, both a twist and a surprise, along with a denouement that would be almost comical if not so otherwise tragic.
“The Director’s Cut” is the longer piece, as well as my favorite, mainly because it offers a chance to see how Ms. Burke develops a more complex tale. She succeeds wonderfully, crafting a classically styled mystery about birthmarks and destiny, spanning the worlds of Hollywood elite and old-country mythos. The eponymous piece, “Mind-Shaft” is a rousing finale of murderous intent, ambition, and karma.
Burke knows her way around the fun-but-chilling genre of paranormal campfire yarns. She creates characters both unique and instantly recognizable, their dialogue real, their behaviors authentic. She artfully sets up future plot points without telegraphing her intent, and because we never know which direction she’ll take us, each is a fast-paced romp through the dark side.
I especially enjoyed her spare-but-poignant descriptions, the way she paints each scene so we experience it with all our senses. “The waterfall… gushed out and sprayed rainbows in the sunlight, bending trees at its edges with its force. The rocks gleamed with moss the color of emeralds, and wildflowers clung valiantly in a profusion of gold and blue untouched nearby.”
He description impresses most when she finds simple ways to say who we are, how we feel, what we know: “…they curled together in perfect symmetry and slept the deep sleep that children know, the sleep that comes before the innocence is torn away.” I could go on, but better to go on to another book by S. Burke, this being my first. If you’re old enough to remember Rod Serling’s show, as well as that other little anthology of his, The Twilight Zone, you’ll appreciate the high praise of my comparison. Whether you know that name or not, remember the name of S. Burke. She paints narratives every bit as entertaining as the best of what hung in Serling’s gallery.
–Review by Stephen Geez
S. “Sooz” Burke lives in Bathurst, New South Wales, Australia—far west of her previous home in Sydney. Always wanting to write, she didn’t begin her journey as an author until her early fifties. She publishes as Stacey Danson, Suzanne Burke, and S. Burke. Find her on Twitter @Pursoot, Facebook as “Welcome to the World of Suzanne Burke,” and at her blog, Sooz Burke Author.
Guest Blog Post by Author D.L. Finn! Comment below and win! Woohoo!
The Button Idea.
The “idea” for this book was a question from my husband.
“Do you still have that F*** off and Die button?”
“Yes, I do.”
He laughed when I handed it to him.
It had been tucked away in my closet for years (without the asterisks). It’s a reminder of the “old” me. The one who might have pushed some boundaries. The one with an attitude.
I found this button in Berkeley in the late ’70s or early ’80s. It made me laugh, so I bought it. No, I didn’t wear it on my purse like Lynn in “The Button,” but the message might have been my mindset for a while. Lynn was more forward with her button, but then she had more to deal with than I had.
Now, I have a big collection of buttons in my laundry room. They tell the history of my life and the life around me. I still add to them when I find just the right button with a saying that makes me laugh, a “hey that’s right,” or a memory. I may have lost a few buttons over the years before I realized I was collecting them.
The day when I was asked if I still had this button, I found myself joking: “I should write a book based on it.”
We might have laughed, but the idea stuck. That rebellious side of me woke up and created Lynn. She was far more rebellious than the book showed–she wanted me to tone it down a bit.
Then other ideas started to form. I wanted a character who grew up in an abusive household which Lynn took on. I had some knowledge to bring to the story, too. Then the angel, Zelina, insisted on being with Lynn back in 1976 when she was in a coma. With Zelina came another evildwel and an angel-in-training, Thomas. Zelina made “The Button” a kind of prequel to “This Second Chance” but with a different tone.
“The Button” is not as much of a love story as it is a survival story although there is love, too. After my input Lynn completely took over the story. I’m not sure I would have made some of the decisions she did.
I must point out this is fictional–besides the button. Even the things that did happen didn’t happen the way they did in “The Button.”
So yes, I wrote a book based on a question about a button. And after much reflection, there are no asterisks in my book.
The Button Tour Giveaway: Comment and you can win!
The Button Blog Tour Prizes:
2- “The Button” Kindle Format
$5 Amazon Gift Card
1-“The Button” Signed Paperback and Book Marker
D.L. Finn is an independent California local, who encourages everyone to embrace their inner child. She was born and raised in the foggy Bay Area, but in 1990 relocated with her husband, kids, dogs and cats to the Sierra foothills in Nevada City, CA. She immersed herself in reading all types of books, but especially loved romance, horror and fantasy. She always treasured creating her own reality on paper. Finally, being surrounded by towering pines, oaks and cedars, her creativity was cradled until it bloomed. Her creations vary from children’s books, young adult fantasy, adult paranormal romance to an autobiography with poetry. She continues on her adventure with an open invitation to her readers to join her.
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