Sins of the Past – Round up!

Sins Of The Past

Over the last few months I’ve publishing a series of interviews and extracts from the authors of the Sins of the Past anthology.

Here are the links to all the Sunday interviews in case you missed any.

Enter if you dare . . .

Contributors

Sunila Vig

Matt Lovell

Kerry E.B. Black

Laura K. Cowan

Don Miskel

N.M. Scuri

Kristin Roahrig

J. Kendall

Chasity Nicole

Joseph Lofthouse

Jen Ponce

T. D. Harvey

Andy Morris

Debbie Manber Kupfer

Michael “Mad Mike” Nagy

Misha Burnett

Cleve Sylcox

Pick up a copy of Sins of the Past today.

Sins of the Past – signed copies now available directly from me for just $15 including shipping (US orders only)

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Or pick up a copy from Amazon.

Coming soon – Sins of the Future including my story, Doris – don’t you want to meet her?

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Sins of the Past – Meet Mad Mike Nagy

MikeNagy

  1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

First and foremost I’m a single dad and I live with my son who’s 16 this year. My day job is a mechanic. I’ve been in the motor trade for 20 years. Always been a massive film fan with horror being my favourite genre. It wasn’t till about 4 years ago that I started writing. I started a horror blog called Maven’s Movie Vault of Horror where I would write horror movie reviews and did the occasional interview with directors / actors. But what I really wanted to do was write horror stories.  So contributing to Sins of the Past was the perfect stepping stone.

  1. Who are your favorite authors?

This will probably sound weird , but I’ve never been a massive reader! It wasn’t till my late teens that I actually read any horror. Bram Stoker’s Dracula was the first bit of Horror I ever read. But if I had to pick one author that wrote a book I read, a book that really stuck in my mind and I couldn’t put it down, it would have to be Richard Laymen.

  1. Tell us a bit about your story, Nature’s Revolution?

Both my parents are Hungarian.  They came to England during the Hungarian Revolution in 1957. My dad actually fought against the Russians and some of the story is inspired by what he told me, his involvement etc. Then there’s the nature side of things. I’m pagan and a big believer in mother nature, so I’m very interested in pre Christian beliefs and the mythology of my Hungarian roots. I mixed the two together and came up with my story Nature’s Revolution.

  1. If you could travel back in time to any place and period in the past where and when would you go?

This is a good question. Something that I’ve often thought about. I would have to say, somewhere along the lines of a warrior in ancient Europe. I have warlords in my “lineage” as I like to say, like Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan. If I could pick a fantasy time period, it would be exactly like Game of Thrones!

  1. What attracts you to writing horror?

For me, it’s a release. It’s a way to get all of the scary stuff that rolls around in my brain out of my head and on to paper.

  1. What are you currently reading?

I’ve just started reading a graphic novel. Only just recently got into them and picked a few up from London Film and Comic Con. It’s called Hellblazer with features a character called John Constantine. The Constantine film starring Keanu Reeves is based on the graphic novels.

  1. Are you planning to write a story for Sins of the Future? Any hints about your story?

Unfortunately no. I’m having an extremely busy year. There’s a lot going on for me personally and socially with the horror community so a lot of time has been spent out of the house doing various things.

  1. What do you like to do to relax?

I put my feet up, grab a beer and watch reruns of Friends and / or The Big Bang Theory. Other than that it’s watching horror movies, or catching up with TV shows.

  1. What are you currently working on?

I’m working on a screenplay that I originally started as a story. It’s a genre mash up. It’s a revenge horror thriller with a lot of torture port in it. Kind of like the film Saw, but with less games and more intent.

  1. How can readers connect with you?

I’m a social media whore! So I’m easy to get hold of or follow.

Twitter: @MavensHorrorUK.

Instagram: @madmikenagy.

Facebook: My personal profile  or my page –  or the Maven’s Movie Vault of Horror page

Blog – Maven’s Movie Vault of Horror

Want to read a bit of Nature’s Revolution? Of course you do …

“I count one man in each tower” whispered Tamás as we drew closer to the camp. I sent him, Miklos, Zalán and János to take out each tower. The enemy had control of spotlights, but for some reason weren’t using them. So moving quietly through the darkness, they headed to their assigned tower, jumped over the makeshift fence and climb up the towers unnoticed and slit the throats of the guards. Phase one complete.  Meanwhile Lajos, Gábor, Szilárd, Attila, András and I moved into position at the rear of the camp jumping the fence. We were all in and that was phase two. Now to take out the tanks, the hard part!

Our plan was to set fire to one of the tents at the rear of the encampment to create a distraction. This was my job. I pulled out my box of matches and moved to the northeast corner of the base. This was the furthest part away from the tanks which were right near the west and only entrance to the base. As I got closer to my destination I heard two soldiers deep in conversation. My Russian wasn’t great, but from what I could tell they were talking about football. I whispered “Come here” in Russian to get their attention. They started in my direction so I doubled around the tent to hit them from behind. I drew my handgun and knife. As they stopped to see who had called them over, both still facing away from me, while crouched down I crept no more than a few strides away. I shot the furthest one away in the back of the head and pounced on the nearest soldier. As he turned around I thrust my knife up under his jaw. Dropping my gun to cover his mouth with my other hand, I pulled the knife out and ran it along his throat, covering my face in blood. He dropped to the ground face down. Then I thrust the knife through the base of his skull and up into his brain giving it a few twists just to be sure he was dead. I checked the other body. He was dead from the shot I had fired. The bullet had entered through his neck and exited out through his forehead. I stood up and moved round to the rear of the tent and struck two matches and slowly set the tent on fire.

Staying in the cover of darkness, I ran back to the others. As one unit, under the cover of Miklos, Zalán, Tamás, and János still in the towers, we moved through the camp as quickly and quietly as we could. The fire I started caught the attention of a few soldiers and they scurried around in a blind panic trying to put it out as we headed for the tanks. We were met by a pocket of resistance, but took care of them with our silenced guns. We may have been seen as a rabble by many, but we worked extremely well together. We were no more than ten feet away from the tanks when we were spotted.

“We’re under attack!” was cried out in Russian. “Enemy, enemy!”

It was time to go loud! The first bang of a gun came from one of the towers. Tamás took out the soldier that was shouting. This of course got the attention of the whole camp! We didn’t actually know how many Soviet soldiers were left there and we didn’t stick around to find out. Szilárd, Attila and I jumped onto the tanks and dropped in two grenades each. “Run” I shouted as I jumped down. All four towers gave us cover fire as the six of us ran straight out the front gates. With an almighty BOOM the grenades went off, putting the tanks out of commission. We took cover behind a tree each and laid down cover fire for our four comrades to escape the towers. In the commotion of the gunfight the four of them doubled back to jump the east fence and headed away north of the base.

The six of us, while still under gun fire, worked our way north also to meet back up. We’d already shot at least ten men between us. But as we all regrouped we could hear the sound of jeeps revving towards our direction. Lucky for us, we had made up good ground in our escape and were headed into a deep wooded area where they couldn’t follow us with their vehicles. We were still only a couple of a hundred yards ahead of our enemy, but this gave us time to find advantage points and ready ourselves for the imminent attack.

Shots were fired randomly in our direction and we could see the bullets whizzing over our heads in the dark. We fired back using controlled burst as to not use too much ammo. We were still unsure how many they were.  Suddenly everything went quiet for a minute. One single shot was fired and the next sound came from near me. It was Attila crying out in pain. He had been shot in the stomach. I scrambled over to him and covered his mouth. “Shhh” I whispered “You’ll give away our position.” I told him “Bite down on this” as I gave him a large twig. There was nothing I could do for him. He was bleeding badly.

The enemy was getting closer and started to fire shots again. So we fired back. Again I heard a couple of my comrades screaming in pain as bullets hit. I grabbed Attila’s submachine gun and let it rip. By the time it ran out of ammo all went quiet once again. No screams this time and no gun shots. Deadly silence came across the wood for a good few minutes this time. It was as if the air had been pulled out. Then the eerie sound of a crying wind swept through the trees. This is where the real life I lived crossed with the fairy tale Lajos had often spoken about!

Want to read more? Pick up your copy of Sins of the Past today.

Sins Of The Past

Sins of the Past – a review from the Bookie Monster

Sins

Anthologies are a wonderful way to get to know authors you’ve never read. The very nature of anthologies means that you’ll find some stories that leave you shivering, some that are just fine, and a few that just aren’t for you. Sins of the Past is an anthology that focuses on the horrors of the past, and the hidden forces that didn’t make the history books.

Read the rest of the review here and enter the giveaway for a chance to win an ebook of Sins of the Past.

Or pick up your copy today from Amazon or a signed copy directly from me.

Sins of the Past – Cleve Sylcox

Cleve

  1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

I was born the youngest of thirteen children. My mother was pure Irish. Her father was a Newell and her mother a Sample. She had pure hazel eyes and temper to match. My father was from a line of tough rugged country folk who were self-reliant but bonded in tight family clusters. Ironically, my father was born on 12/13/12. I was his thirteenth child, born 2/9/58. We were not rich, but not dirt poor. My father by the time I was born worked at McDonald Douglas in St. Louis working as an assembler. We didn’t have a lot of anything, but what we did have was a lot of was books. There were all kinds and I loved reading Life and Time magazines along with the encyclopedias given to us from various families. I fell in love with Sci-Fi and Mysteries. No particular author. My bedtime was ten o’clock on school nights and I slept in a corner of the basement containing a bed, chest of drawers, and nightstand with a light. I would stay up for hours reading whatever I could find. I wrote most of my earlier stories in school, and did not publish a book until 2004. Scants (later to become Nucor) was 526 pages of Sci-Fi excitement. Since then I have written sixteen more in various genres. 

  1. Who are your favorite authors?

 I do not have a favorite author. I’ve read many from Dean Koontz, Stephen King, and many other popular authors. I read like to read in various genres.

 If I had to choose one over them all it would be M.J. Pike. She writes romantic ghost stories with an elegant twist.

 Sci-Fi I like, Saxton Andrew, T.R. Harris, Suzy Stewart Dubolt, and Michael Thomas.

Detective Mystery Noir – Russell Blake, Billy Kring, Donna Blanchard McNicol, Stephen Thomas, Kathleen Steed, Nick Russell, George Weir, and Jason Deas.

Fantasy – Robert Thomas, John Daulton, Randall Morris, C. Crag Colman, and John Salter.

Horror— Brandon Hale, Corrie Fischer Stout, Shaorn Delarosa, Kate Aaron, Chris Ward, and Andy Downs.

 And this list is the tip of the ice berg- AJ Rose, Valrie Chandler, Steven Hammond, Nick Pesci, Cameron Lowe, Ella Medler, KS Haigwood, Holli Marie Spaulding, Jay Allan, Michael Edwards, Nick Thomas, Robbie Taylor, Miranda Stork, Ben Cassidy, Beck Bee, Sam Neumann, Pinkston, Eddie Boggs, Jess Mountifield, Colleen Hoover, Dale Roberts, Karen Davison, Mike Meyer, Len Du Randt, Albert Benson, Liz Miller, James Rozoff, Molly Pendelton, Carol Cadoo, Mona Mellissa, Jacques Duvoisin, Stephen Arsenault, Suzie O’Connell, Scott Langrel, Lindsay Sabbarton, Shirley Bouget, Nancy Furner, Elizabeth Moore, Stephen Scott, Newsome, Debbie Manber Kupfer, and so many others.

 If you write it, I will read it. 

  1. Tell us a bit about your story, The Innocent?

The Innocent is about a returning Vietnam War hero who finds home not so different from the jungles of Southeast Asia. A mob awaits his return and seeks revenge for the massacre of My Lai. It is a first person narrative in the voice of the returning GI. The first draft contained a lot of cursing in an attempt to express a true representation of a battle harden soldier returning home. The language was toned down for the sake of the anthology. I enjoyed the research and learned far more than I wished too and even though this was a short piece, I hold it dear to my heart. 

  1. If you could travel back in time to any place and period in the past where and when would you go?

If I could go undetectable from those I was observing, then break out the cart-blanche and take me back to all the events with a brief rest bit to research and chronologically record each event free from government or scholarly scrutiny. If I had to choose one though, it would be, beyond a doubt, the time of Jesus, from birth until the day of ascension.  

  1. What attracts you to writing horror?

Back in the days of black and white television, vampires, werewolves, and Frankenstein ruled the night. Sometimes, I would sneak upstairs and flip on the TV to watch the late, late show on our local CBS channel. They always had something exciting like The Blob, The Thing, The Mummy, The Hand, The Fly, and of course the before mentioned staples. I was addicted to being scared and in turn wanted everyone to be scared just like me. Boo…  

  1. Tell us a little about your books. I see you like to delve into many different genres.

Yes, I like writing in various forms. I am hyperactive and have a habit of wandering from one genre to another. I get bored easily. So, I write some on Nucor and finish the saga, then write on David Winter Mysteries, then on another project. It is a constant cycle of writing and creativity. I am never bored with writing, but with the story line and switching from one to another helps me to maintain focus and my writing is always fresh and clean, rather than becoming old and stagnant. I never want to become someone who writes just for the sake of completing a series or because he feels he has to. I love writing and hope that alongside me on my deathbed there is my laptop opened to a story requiring my attention. Of course my wife and sons would there be too, I hope. 

  1. Are you planning to write a story for Sins of the Future? Any hints about your story?

No, I have three projects in the works and I have very little time to devote to any anthology. However, I will be making the cover. 

  1. What do you like to do to relax?

I watch Jeopardy, read, do yard work, cook, take long drives, fish, walk along the rivers, pet my dog, talk with my wife and make love to her. I have also been known to go up on the roof at night and just lay there looking up at the stars. I dislike television but love movies. 

  1. What are you currently working on?

I have several projects at various stages of completion.

One is the fourth book of the Nucor series called, Nucor—Season of the Androids. I am five chapters into it and I am so excited and anxious to see this saga unfold. Really is a thriller. 

 The first book of the David Winters Mystery series, Fly Paper Soup is in edit with outstanding reviews from all who have beta read it. (I’m one of those beta readers, and confirm it’s a wonderful story – DMK) The second book, Recluse is in production and it promises to be a great companion to book one.

  Then there is Cern – The God Particle. I cannot tell you how enthusiastic I am about this story. It has everything from espionage, to demon elfs, LSD, ENT, Et’s, So much coming at me so fast that sometimes I can’t pull myself away from it.

 I just launched Nucor-Invasion in Audiobook form. Soon, I will have Death in Gravely Falls on Audiobook.

At the moment that is all I have going.  

CleveBooks

 

  1. How can readers connect with you?

There are several ways.

My Blog— http://www.csylcox.com

Facebook— https://www.facebook.com/clevesylcoxauthor?ref=bookmarks

Twitter— @csylcox

Amazon— http://www.amazon.com/Cleve-Sylcox/e/B00GW8AECS

Banes and Noble— http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/cleve+sylcox/_/N-8q8/?No=0&Nrpp=40

Itunes – https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/cleve-sylcox/id509703132?mt=11

 

Or you can email me for a signed copy cssylcox@charter.net

Want to read a little of Cleve’s story, The Innocent? Sure you do!

November 1969

A plane lands at LAX on a cool November morning. GIs are returning home after fighting in Vietnam. They look forward to home cooked meals, seeing love ones, and sleeping on a soft mattress. To some though, returning home is nothing more than a continuation of a war they hate. Take Reuben Weston for instance. He served his country well from his enlistment in Nov. 1966 to his discharge in Nov. 1969. In that stretch he was wounded three times in Vietnam, rose to Platoon Sergeant, saved countless lives, and was well respected among the troops despite his rough and tough attitude. This story could very well be titled, “In the wrong place at the wrong time.” For Sergeant Weston, it is just that.

  • §§

The wind whips at my back as I debark the 707 at LAX. I wear khakis. It is the uniform of the day, my last day, because as soon as my foot touches the asphalt I will be a civilian. My name tag above my right pocket reflects the sun. Reuben Weston, it reads. A damn good name. Two of my three medals, Distinguished Service, and a Purple Heart, flop around beneath my service ribbons above my left pocket as I make my way down the ramp.

I am the first black soldier ever awarded the third medal, the prestigious medal of Blackism – made from a beer can top cut into the shape of a middle finger with a makeshift pin glued to the back. It would be the last beer I’d drink in the bush. My platoon gave it to me the last night I was with ’em, in Damn Nam. It means more to me than the other two put together. Blackism, I must’ve been pretty drunk to come up with that.

To say I’m glad to be off that rotten plane is an understatement. Civilian jets suck. I’m a GI, oval drab to the bone. Why they flew me home in one of those is beyond me. Meat job General’s idea I bet, maybe some congressmen’s idea of rewarding our fine soldiers for a job well done? Well, screw’em! I’m home now and they can have their uniform.

I earned my stripes, every last stinking one of ’em. Arrived in Nam as a, ‘right off the farm, piece of know-nothing crap.’ I was green but learned quick. No thanks to those politicians in D.C. What’s the matter with all those morons in DC?  Really, what isn’t wrong with ’em?

They sent us off to the land of the gooks, and we got our ass kicked because of bureaucratic bull. Don’t fire until fired upon, don’t cross this line and that. Stay put until we tell you to advance. Who the hell is ‘we’, anyhow?

Wasn’t like that in the jungle, no sir. We were the judge and jury of the gooks. The giants rule the land. We are the conquering heroes who drove the black pajamas across the DMZ into Laos and Cambodia. The south was clean in ‘66. Then those cameras started following us around. Hell, we tossed one camera man and his gear into the swamps. None of those gooks were ever gonna escape back north, at least not on our watch.

In ‘67 those regulations came down and tied our hands. We couldn’t fight like aggressors anymore. We couldn’t fight like we had too. They stuck us in camps deep in the jungle and on top of hills. Nothing happened for weeks at a time, nothing. We smoked pot, and screwed every whore we could, some of the guys were bangin’ each other. We called ’em Jill’s, and the name stuck.

Some of the lucky units saw some action. They pushed the gooks to the DMZ and our armors pounded them for three straight days. The Ho Chi Min trail across the DMZ was blown to bits, and then the aerial attacks bombed them everyday for weeks. I saw a tank bounce three feet off the ground two miles away from the damn trail. Three feet! It didn’t matter. At night those little bush babies were filling in the holes.

Our patrols reported large movements of men and ammo to the south along the trail. By the time we got there, they were gone. They crawled into their holes like rats or vanished into the jungle like ghosts.

Jan of ’68, the Tet Offensive…gooks were all around us and we didn’t even know it. All hell broke loose on January 30, 1968. The Tet Offensive began.

Early in the morning they attacked everywhere in South Vietnam. There was supposed to be a cease-fire ’cause of New Year or some crap. I don’t know. We got our butts handed to us. Those bastards were in the wire…in the wire! All over us. I fought till early morning, hand to hand. I had blood all over me and none of it mine.

A lot of good soldiers died that night. It didn’t stop there. In some areas their attacks were like bugs hitting a windshield, they didn’t make a dent. Other places they were fleas on a hound’s back. Saigon and Hue, those two took a long time, nearly a month, to clean out. The Cong even held the US Embassy in Saigon for eight hours.

Near the end of February, they assigned me to a bunch of greenhorn rookies. Charlie Company arrived in theater, December of ‘67, they hadn’t seen any action. Tet was popping all over the country in Jan of ’68 and this unit missed out, lucky dicks. I was assigned as a Platoon Sergeant and given orders to sweep the jungles west of a group of villages near Mai Lai.

I looked at this ragtag group of potheads and said move out. Worst bunch I had ever seen. Simple shit-like quiet maneuvers, securing gun straps and no smoking, they couldn’t do. Drunk, high, they were the walking dead and didn’t know it.

War has a way of cleaning the gunk out of the can. By mid-March, 28 of em’ were wounded because of mines or booby-traps, and five dead.

Cong never came knocking. That’s what frustrated us and made us angry. Charlie Company was sent to find gooks and Cong, and kill as many of the black pajama’s as we could. All we found were tunnels and villages that we knew, we just knew, were Cong but we couldn’t prove it, and we moved on. These villages, our intelligence said, had VC crawling all over them but we found nothing. Not even a dirty black pajama.

Then intelligence told us of a hold-up of Viet Cong in and around a tiny village of Mai Lai. We were given orders like I had never seen before. They said kill all suspected Viet Cong. Even civilians, if they ran, would be considered hostile. Our unit would follow the main assault. We swept the countryside first clearing out huts and setting them afire. Anyone we suspected of being VC, we rounded up and pushed forward. No shooting, just simple snatch and burn. As we got closer to the village, we could hear gun fire and see smoke rising. The radio was going crazy with talk of Cong all over the place. Several of our prisoners took off and we dropped them before they made it ten feet. Before I knew it, I saw soldiers from a different outfit shooting civilians and raping women. I ordered my men to stand down. I even threatened to blow their heads off if they started that. They listened alright, because they knew I wasn’t bluffing.

As we advanced through the village, we witnessed huts set on fire with civilians still inside. We saw whole families shot to hell. In a ditch we passed countless men and women dead or dying. I sent our medic to care for the wounded, but they were pushed back at gun point and told to back off. A lieutenant and sergeant fired into the ditch with .45s.

At another ditch, a helicopter landed and its gunner stared down a squad who were going to kill the men, women, and children. We helped the helicopter crew load as many wounded aboard as possible, and then we held our position protecting those still alive. A helicopter gunship forced its way between fleeing refugees and their American pursuers to end the carnage.

We heard rumors of hundreds dead and even more wounded. I don’t know how many died. The military doesn’t even know. All I know is many were killed and the rest will never forget. To top it all off, they only found two AK47s. Two. With maybe three Viet Cong identified.

As George Carlin said, ‘Military intelligence is an oxymoron.’ Military intelligence got us into it, but it cried foul and played dead when their house of cards tumbled.

Read more in Sins of the Past – pick up your copy today!

Sins Of The Past

Sins of the Past – Andy Morris

AndyMorrisBanner

Today on Paws 4 Thought we continue our Sins of the Past series with Andy Morris, author of Birthright. Tell us a little bit about yourself, Andy.

I live in a small town in the West Midlands, England called Wednesbury with my fiancé, Gemma and my two children, Harry (6) and Emily (4). I’m currently working for a joinery company manufacturing door frames and doors, which at the moment is taking up a lot of my time so finding time to write is difficult, but I do what I can when free time becomes available. I’ve always been a big horror fan, whether it be films, novels, or even comics and have often been told I have a morbid imagination, which does come in handy when writing horror.

Who are your favorite authors?

 Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Brian Keane.

Tell us a bit about your story, Birthright?

Birthright is a story about a young boy and how his haemophilia transforms him into a vampire. I set it during the Russian Revolution because of the Tsar’s young son Alexei, who did suffer from the condition and whose disappearance has been shrouded in mystery. Birthright is actually a small part of a much larger story that I have been working on for a while.

 If you could travel back in time to any place and period in the past where and when would you go?

I’d travel to ancient Greece around 2000 B.C.

 What attracts you to writing horror?

The macabre and the sinister have always fascinated me and having a slightly weird imagination, it seemed a perfect fit.

 What are you currently reading?

The Strain by Chuck Hogan and Guillermo Del Toro.

 Are you planning to write a story for Sins of the Future? Any hints about your story?

I do have plans for a story. All I can say at this time is when the world is ending and food is running out, what lengths would you go to to survive?

 What do you like to do to relax?

I like to read, watch films, and spend time with my family.

 What are you currently working on?

I’m currently working on the series of novels set in the same world as Birthright.

How about a snippet from Birthright?

It has been sixteen years since my whole family, including myself, were killed in the town of Tobolsk, Russia.

It all started in 1905 when peaceful protesters marched upon the Winter Palace, my family’s home at the time. Although my father was not in residence then, he was blamed for the shootings by the palace guards, which resulted in nearly a hundred deaths and over 300 more severely injured. This day was to be known as Bloody Sunday and was the start of my father’s decline as the ruler of my motherland. This set in motion events, which would take another thirteen years to come to a head and during that time my life would change forever.

What happened next, you will not find in any history books. Scholars will not be talking about it. For what happened to me, Alexei, son of the last tsar of Russia, heir to the throne, was unnatural. I was born with a blood disorder, a disorder known as haemophilia. To many this is a disorder where the body can’t produce the blood-clotting agents it needs in order to heal, but what you may not know is that the literal translation for this disorder is

Love of blood”.

Like all parents, mine were very protective, but more so because of my condition. The slightest bruise or cut could have been life threatening and like most young boys growing up I had my fair share of bumps. This bought all kinds of doctors to treat me, but it was one instance in 1912, when I was just ten years of age, when my condition really took its toll. We were vacationing in the town of Spala when I fell from my horse while hunting and I was in a critical condition – so much so that the last sacrament was read to me by a priest. Doctors could do nothing for me and my mother resorted to turning to a starets (a spiritual elder of the Russian Orthodox Church) to come and see what could be done. This man’s name was Grigori Yefimovich. Known to many as Rasputin…

Connect with Andy on Facebook.

To read more pick up a copy of Sins of the Past today in Kindle or paperback.

UK readers can follow this link to Amazon UK.

Sins Of The Past

Sins of the Past – T.D. Harvey

TDHarvey

Today on Paws4Thought I continue my Sins of the Past series with British author T.D. Harvey. Tell us a little bit about yourself, Tee.

My name is T. D. Harvey, but you can call me Tee. I live in Hampshire, which is on the south coast of England. I’ve been writing all my life, but in spring 2013, I decided to get serious. Since then I have had three stories published and have many more scheduled for this year. My writing is generally dark fiction, but can go in any direction. I am a discovery writer. I make no plans, nor do I plot my characters’ journeys. I simply sit at the keyboard and write. It’s a wonderful experience, but it makes editing a nightmare.

My writing time is limited. I work full time as a Business Analyst—a job I very much enjoy. However, my dream is to drop my hours and concentrate more on my writing, perhaps even write full time. I also have to make room for my chronic pain condition, Fibromyalgia, that can make me too ill to write. So, I scribble at every opportunity; in my lunch break, whilst waiting for a doctor’s appointment, when I am unable to rest at night and when my partner is out of the house and I have some peace and quiet.

Who are your favorite authors?

My favourite authors are varied.

Mark Tufo (Zombie Fallout series) is a fabulous storyteller and an inspiration for Indie writers. He has built a loyal fan base by developing a relationship with his readers. He’s someone an aspiring Indie writer can learn from. 

Tell us a bit about your Sins of the Past story?

In the Stillness and the Silence came to me whilst watching some of the World War I anniversary coverage on television in 2014. It got me thinking about how difficult life was in the trenches and how brave those men were, how much we owe to them. When the idea of an historical horror anthology was first raised, I was intrigued, but not particularly interested in submitting.

History, as my GCSE history teacher will attest, has never been my strong point. However, the WWI coverage struck such a cord with me, that I wasn’t surprised when the story made itself known. As a discovery writer, I never plot or plan a story. So when I sat at my laptop and started typing, Frank appeared. At that point, I didn’t know this was to be my ‘Sins’ submission. I just typed and waited to see what Frank’s story was.

What inspires you to write?

Life, the universe and everything. I was recently driving to work and a single word inspired me to write a story the moment I stopped the car. I keep pens and pads with me at all times because I never know what will trigger a new idea.

If you could travel to any time and place in the past where and when would you go?

I found this a difficult question. As I said, history never interested me when I was younger. The older I get, the more interested in history I become. There are many periods in history I find fascinating, but if I were to have been born then, I wouldn’t be in a good position in life. But as a visitor, I could simply observe and enjoy. So, I think I’d probably visit 1910 through to the late 1920’s Britain. I find that part of our history fascinating. There was so much change around then. The fall of the big estates and the servants that held them together, the rise of Hitler, the increased reliance on new technologies…The rate of change back then must have been exciting for the young and terrifying for the old. I think there are many similarities between the then and now. It would be fascinating to see just how much.

What do you like to do to relax?

With physical activities no longer open to me, my relaxation often comes from TV, movies and audiobooks. I also have two Tonkinese cats and three tropical fish tanks. I like to grow my own vegetables too and my partner has built a greenhouse and garden on stilts so no bending down or digging for me!

Kike  Kike and Anjali

We love kitties here at Paws4Thought. Tell us a little about your furry friends Tee.

Kike (Keekay) is my 4 year old, brown tabby Tonkinese. She is smart, cuddly and a complete mummy’s girl. We tragically lost her brother, Kai to a very rare cancer in March. She was devastated and miserable without him, as were we. Tonkinese do not cope well with being alone, so in June Ajali joined our family. Ajali is a chocolate mink Tonkinese. He is now 18 weeks old and has brought life and laughter back into our home. Kike loves him, although he can be a bit too rambunctious for her. He is smart, lively and a daddy’s boy.

Anjali and Kike Anjali

What are you currently working on?

It’s a very exciting time for me. I’m completing the editing of my first novel, Paper Dragons and Shadow Demons. This is the first in the Hidden Realm trilogy, a dark fantasy series for middle grade readers. It is not for the faint hearted. The artwork is in progress. My wonderful illustrator understands the tone required and has produced some fantastic proof of concept pieces already. I have been recording some trial readings of the novel, as I intend to publish an audio version, read by myself.

I am working on the second of the Hidden Realm trilogy as well as discussing with my illustrator a series for younger readers, based on the Hidden Realm universe.

As ever, many short stories are whizzing round my head, as well as three other novels, all dark fiction for an adult audience.

I’m also in the progress of finishing up a fun anthology project with the theme of pants, or trousers if you’re British like me. We’re in the final editing stages now, the cover art is complete and we’re nearly ready to publish. It’s a multi-genre collection of stories that stemmed from a bet between friends that we couldn’t possibly write a story all about pants. How wrong we were.

How can readers connect with you?

I have a Facebook Author’s page here: https://www.facebook.com/T.D.HarveyAuthor

I also have a blog here: http://tdharveyauthor.wordpress.com/

I love to connect with my readers, and I look forward to meeting more of them. If you wish to contact me directly, my email address is t.d.harvey.author@gmail.com

Thank you for taking your time to answer my questions Tee.

Want to read a little of Tee’s story? Sure you do …

In the stillness and the silence, Frank could imagine he was night fishing with his pals back home in England, instead of in a trench in France, fighting a war he didn’t entirely understand. In Frank’s imagination, there was no ‘Great War’ with Germany. There was only night fishing.

He stares into the Pacific, waiting for that elusive tug on the lines. At the peak of high tide, the sea stops its ebb and flow, becoming still and quiet. No fish take his bait. No men speak during these minutes of calm quiet. The temperature drops, a mist develops over the sea and the cold creeps inside his bones. Just when it seems the world has stopped forever, the eerie atmosphere is broken by the sound of water rolling once more. As the tide begins to drop away, the spell of emptiness is lifted and the fish begin biting once more. Frank pulls sharply on his rod, bedding the hook in the fish. He reels frantically as the fish ‘runs’ and the world returns to normal.

“Frank? What the bloody ‘ell are you doin’?”

“What does it look like I’m doin’?” he answered the private on patrol. “I’m fishin’, ain’t I?”

“In a trench in the middle of France? Look, I know we’re practically swimmin’ in ‘ere, but it’s not exactly the Atlantic, is it?”

“Where else am I gonna fish?”

“You ain’t gonna catch nothin’ ‘ere! And besides, you ain’t got no rod an’ line, ‘ave ya?”

“Don’t need one,” Frank said. “Just dreamin’.”

“Dreamin’? You dream when you sleep, not stood up actin’ it out.”

“I dream however I want to.”

“Well, if you wanna catch something, why not take the dog for a walk an’ see if he can catch some rats? Or you could pop on over to Jerry and catch one o’ them.” The private laughed at his own humour but Frank just shook his head. “Maybe…maybe you’re tryin’ to get invalided out? Tryin’ to say you’re nuts? That’s it, innit?”

Frank simply sighed at his friend, “’Course I ain’t, Bob.”

“You’d have to try ‘arder than that, anyway. You’d ‘ave to be really nuts for ‘em to take you outa here.”

“Get back on patrol before they catch you chattin’. And put that bloody cigarette out before you do. Idiot, gonna get yourself shot!”

“Don’t you worry,” he said. “I got the angels lookin’ after me. Me Mum sent ‘em.”

The private continued his rounds, still smoking his cigarette, its glowing end the only thing visible as he moved further away. The cloying scent of tobacco drifted past in his wake.

“Bloody idiot,” Frank muttered under his breath.

Alone once more, Frank was returned to silence. He hated the silent trenches at night. The eerie quiet of slack tide was a party compared to the trenches. His nerves were wrought with the tension, but his body and mind were exhausted. The night could be broken at any time by a single sniper shot or a full attack. In the day, the trench was filled with the bustle of constant battle, superiors shouting their orders, men running, guns firing. At night, there was often silence. Though not always.

His reverie was broken by movement to his left. Bayonet raised he searched in the darkness. He tried moving silently towards the spot where he had caught the movement, but his boots squelched in the mud and sloshed in the water. He advanced cautiously, placing his feet carefully to reduce noise and avoid losing his footing. It was a cold night but the air around him seemed to freeze, reminding him once more of slack tide. A low fog was spilling over the edge of the trench, filling it with an ethereal curtain that obscured his view.

“Shit!” he whispered when a dark figure appeared, the white mist seeming to glow around it. “Who’s there?”

The figure did not answer him but simply stood, still and silent. Frank couldn’t even tell if the figure was facing him, or away from him because it was nothing more than a silhouette. Frank felt a trickle of sweat roll down his spine and shivered from the cold. His hands, protected by gloves, were stiff and frozen; his fingers felt thick and immovable. His trench coat was warm, but not warm enough. He wasn’t sure he could fire the gun. The shape began to dissolve, dissipate like smoke. He advanced quickly now, thinking the figure was moving away. Surrounded by the fog, Frank could see nothing but wisps of white. The air was damp on his skin, he shuddered but kept going. The cloud of moist cotton began to break up; tendrils of mist clung to the bottom of the trench as the rest dispersed.

“Frank!”

Frank whirled around in surprise. The patrolling private was back.

“What the ‘ell are you doin’ leavin’ your post?”

“I saw someone,” Frank answered, “In the fog.”

Bob pushed past and shone his torch. He advanced up the trench with great caution, gun raised. When he returned he shook his head.

“Nothin’,” he said. “You sure you weren’t dreamin’ again?”

Fists clenched, Frank said, “I wasn’t dreaming.”

“Well, whoever it was, they’re gone now. Probably just someone stretchin’ their legs.”

“Then why didn’t they answer me?”

“Probably didn’t hear you. Stop spookin’ yourself! Shift’s over soon an’ we can get some sleep.”

Bob continued his lonely circuit and Frank returned to his post. He stepped up and peered cautiously over the parapet, seeing nothing but a slight mist covering the ground. No man’s land stretched beyond the defences of the trench. Barbed wire lay in a deadly patchwork, covering the ground. No planks rested atop it—a tell-tale sign, if it had been breached. Frank knew he had seen something. Someone, he quickly corrected himself. He stepped back down and into the hollow in the earth where he would spend the rest of his uneventful shift.

To read more pick up a copy of Sins of the Past today in Kindle or paperback.

UK readers can follow this link to Amazon UK.

Sins Of The Past

Sins of the Past – Meet Jen Ponce

Jen

Today on the Paws 4 Thought we welcome fantasy and horror writer, Jen Ponce. Jen is the author of several novels including Blood Curse, The Bazaar and Bug Queen. She has a story in the Dragon’s Rocketship fantasy anthology, The Scribes Journal and in Sins of the Past. Welcome Jen. Can you tell us a little bit about yourself?

My mom taught me the most important thing I’ve ever learned: to love books. For me, loving books also means writing them, so that I can share my passion with others. Books mean escape, emotion, adventure, learning, and open-minds to me.

In addition to reading and writing, I work as an advocate for victims of domestic violence and sexual assault. I am a feminist who is learning more about what that means every day. I have three amazing boys who teach me a lot about love and life and laughter, and I have a great extended family. I’m also very lucky to have great writer friends who I’ve learned so much from.

When did you start writing?

I started writing in sixth grade with my friends Kathy and Becky. Kathy and I wrote an eclectic mix of sci-fi and absurdity: My Science Teacher is an Alien was one. Becky and I wrote romances, often featuring rakish pirates and heroines who seemed an awful lot like their authors. The coolest thing is I’ve taken some of those early characters and rewritten them into current projects. Patrick, aka Patch, was my pirate character and you can find him in my vampire novel Blood Curse (along with his brothers.) Sam, the hardboiled detective I wrote with Kathy, has his own small place as a reporter in an unfinished novel of mine. Remembering those past stories helps honor who I was as a writer. (Plus it’s fun.)

Who are your favorite authors?

That’s a hard one because I read in so many genres. What one author does well in horror, another does equally well in fantasy. Stephen King is always a favorite because his stories talk to my soul. Faith Hunter is another fave because her Jane Yellowrock series is so engrossing and features a kick ass woman main character. My fellow authors in the Scriptorium are also favorites of mine because they are each brilliant in their own way.

What attracts you to horror and fantasy?

Horror and fantasy both hold terrors, but they are the manageable kind. I can control those experiences. It’s the real world that is truly scary, in that it is utterly mundane and full of insanity all at the same time. In horror, there’s meaning behind the violence—if it’s good horror. In real life, there’s often no meaning at all, or none that can be easily extrapolated. In fantasy, there’s always hope, even in the darkest stories: hope for a savior, hope for a magical solution, hope for redemption. In real life, there are no guarantees for a happy ending. There are no magical fixes. I’m drawn to horror and fantasy because it gives me a place to scream, to cry, to be scared, to be joyful, in the safety of the story.

What is your favorite of your books?

This is so hard. They each have taught me a lot about being a writer. If I pick one, will the characters from my other books rebel? If they rebel, what happens to my brain? If I die of an aneurysm, I am totally coming back to haunt you. Just saying.

With that caveat, I’m going to say my favorite book is the one I haven’t written yet. The ones I’ve written sit on spotlighted podiums in a vast display area in my head. They have been formed and shaped and are now real. I love them but now that they have “The End” written in them, they are finite. The books I haven’t yet written expand like the universe in my head. They are potential and possibility. They are what-may-be. Grabbing the ideas out of the ether, pinning them, squirming, to the page. Shaping their glistening bodies, paring off a bit of flesh here and sewing on an appendage there, that’s what I love. Once they are done, someone else can adore them or hate them as they wish.

Tell us a bit about your story in The Scribe’s Journal?

You’re So Vein is a silly little confection about a narcissist named Jack who is in a relationship with a vampire named Molly. She wants him because he’s pretty and he wants her because she thinks he’s pretty. It’s a match made in heaven, eh? At least until Molly confesses her vampirism and gives Jack a demonstration that changes him forever.

What do you like to do to relax?

I read or crochet. Sometimes I take long baths because they help me tease free story ideas and help me mend plot holes.

Tell us about your story in Sins of the Past?

The Beast of Alkali Lake centers around a woman named Honoria who married without her father’s permission. She and her husband fled West and settled in the Panhandle of Nebraska. The Beast of Alkali Lake is based on the legend of the monster that allegedly dwells in what’s now called Walgren Lake near Hay Springs, (the town I grew up in.) The story was going to be a psychological piece about a woman being driven mad by the wind—a distinct possibility in Western Nebraska, let me tell you. Then her husband opened his mouth and began talking, and I heard the reckless disdain in his voice, and the Beast raised its hoary head and wanted a piece of the action. Since I like oogy monsters, I obliged.

So what’s next? What are you currently working on?

I’m almost finished with book three of my urban fantasy series. I’m editing another urban fantasy that I plan to release in four parts, a light romance, and a steampunk sexy-adventure-time novel that’s going to be part of a mixed-author boxed set. Finally, I’m writing a series of spidery short stories full of horror and silliness and fantasy that I will publish as a collection later on this year/early next year.

How can readers connect with you?

People can find me in lots of different places. The easiest thing to do would be to visit my website at: www.JenniferPonce.com. You can find links for Facebook and Twitter there, as well as find updates about the books I’m working on or those I have available for purchase.

Want to read a little of The Beast of Alkali Lake? Sure you do!

The lake’s surface rippled, water choppy from the push of the ever-present wind. Honoria held her palms flat against her skirts as she stood near her husband and wondered, not for the first time, why she had followed him into the wilderness west of the Mississippi.

“See, Honoria, darling? There is a place for us to swim here.” Donovan looped his arm around her shoulder and smiled down at her, memories in his eyes of their illicit meetings at the lake back east. Warm summer nights and clear water. His hands on her in ways that made her blush to think on it.

“It’s not the same.”

“Nothing is the same, my sweet. That’s why it’s all so wonderful.” He nuzzled at her neck, obviously wanting her to forget the tiny dwelling made of dirt that they would be living in for the next five years and the work it would take to ready the land for planting. Wanting to forget her father’s threats to kill him.

“The smell is atrocious,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the rotting vegetal smell. “I wouldn’t put a toe in that dirty water.” Besides the smell of decay, there was something about the place that made Honoria shiver. Which was ridiculous. The lake was banded by cottonwood trees and, beyond, the rolling grasslands of the plains. Nothing sinister, nothing shadowed or hidden. Just water, sand, and trees. Still. She didn’t like being near the water and knew she would never get in it and said so.

“You might change your mind in the heat of the summer.”

A gust of wind tossed her skirts, nearly knocking her sideways and tearing her hair from under her bonnet. The bonnet itself fluttered and flapped, its pretty laces and bows already fraying from the blasted breeze. “I won’t change my mind,” she said, realizing it was the same thing she’d said when she first told Donovan she wouldn’t leave everything behind to stake a claim in the middle of nowhere and look where she was now. “I mean it,” she added, as if that would make all the difference.

“We’re free, here.” He tapped her chin with his knuckle. “Eh?”

She hated when he treated her like a child and she jerked her chin away. A brief flash of temper between his eyebrows, quickly gone.

A sharp smile. “Fine,” he said and stripped off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you there’s nothing to fear.”

Shoes next, then pants, until he stood naked as the day he was born. Her cheeks heated as she watched him stride to the water and hesitate at the edge. “You’ll catch your death.”

He tossed her a grin over his shoulder then into the water he went, gasping at the chill. “It feels like a thousand hands are grasping at my legs.”

Her stomach twisted. “Donovan, this has gone far enough.”

He didn’t listen. Of course he didn’t. When did her impetuous, beautiful husband ever listen to reason? When he was up to his waist in the murk, he dove under. Honoria’s heart leaped into her throat and stayed there, pounding, choking her as time passed and he did not surface. He was playing a trick. She knew that much. Knew he could hold his breath for a long period.

A bird called off to her right, singing to its absent mate. Honoria didn’t know how birds made nests here. Why their mud and wattle homes weren’t tossed out of the trees and dashed to the ground, broken.

It had been too long. She strode to the water, careful not to let it lap over her toes, and stared hard at the place he’d gone under. “Donovan!”

A thrash of water to her left. Then Donovan broke free, blowing water from his mouth, coughing. She stood trembling in fear and anger as he waded to shore. Lake weed clung to him, wrapped around his neck, his arms. One piece tangled about his ankle. She kept herself from going to him, wanting him to explain himself, wanting him to struggle free himself and admit his wrong to her.
He stood shivering on the bank. She asked, “What happened?”

“Tangled. Damn lake bottom is a forest of growth.” He coughed and then spit, a brown, phlegmy wad that made Honoria sick to look at. “Sorry, wife. I guess you were right. I almost did catch my death, though not in the way you meant.”

They went home, Donovan still shivering despite having his dry clothes back on his body and that night she nursed his fever that burned bright and hot through him. Later, as she wrung out cool water from the bucket she’d drawn from their well earlier that day, drawn by hand using muscles she’d never used that way before, she heard a sound that chilled her blood. She’d left him to go outside the tiny sod structure they called home and saw that the stars were gone. A low rumble of thunder hailed an early spring storm and wind tugged incessantly at her hair. To the east, in the direction of the damnable lake, rose a thick, dense fog. It steamed into the air like a living thing and from its depths, she heard a roar. Seconds later, the ground shook, knocking her off her feet to tumble against the rough sod bricks.

A louder crack of thunder and then it began to rain. The wet chased her inside, cold, afraid, and grateful for the thick walls of the soddy.

She prayed that whatever it was roaring from the lake stayed there and she vowed to make sure Donovan never visited again.

Want to read more? Pick up a copy of Sins of the Past.

Sins

Sins of the Past – Meet Chasity Nicole

chasity nicole

Today on Paws4Thought we welcome fantasy author Chasity Nicole. Chasity is not just a contributor to Sins of the Past, but also the publisher and cover designer. Tell us a little bit about yourself, Chasity.

I’ve been writing since high school, but never had the desire to publish anything. But I enjoy writing and try to write as much as I can, though time doesn’t always permit me to. I also draw, paint, read, and do a lot of graphic work. If I’m not doing one of those things I’m spending time with my little brother.

Who are your favorite authors?

I bounce around between authors, and it really depends on what genre of books I’ve been reading at the moment. Lately, it seems I’ve been reading quite a bit of manga. But my favorite authors seem to be Gena Showalter, Kathy Reichs, and Tolkien.

Tell us a bit about your story, A Ghostly Haunting?

A Ghostly Haunting is actually based on real life events in more than one way. All of the stories in Sins of the Past hold to something the happened in the past, but each author gave them a little twist. Most of my story actually happened. My family lived in a house several years back that was actually haunted. I really would wake up in the morning and walk into the kitchen and greet a slave spirit that was trapped in the house. I always called him George, and never found out if that was his real name or not. Other events that happened in the story literally happened to my family while we lived there, it was a very creepy house.

If you could travel back in time to any place and period in the past where and when would you go?

I’d want to go back to medieval times. There has always been something that has piqued my interest around this time.

Tell us a bit about your novel, Wickedly Misunderstood?

wickedly misunderstood

Wickedly Misunderstood is about eleven teens who have superhuman abilities. They are all outcasted by the people in the areas where they live. They are taken to an island where they are to learn about who and what they are. Though something more sinister is the actual reason they are brought to the island. You follow along with Ember and the group to see if Ember can put it all together before it’s too late for her and her friends.

What are you currently reading?

I’m currently reading Quarantine by Lex Thomas. It’s quite a good book.

Are you planning to write a story for Sins of the Future? Any hints about your story?

I am planning to write a story for Sins of the Future. So far my story takes place in a school on graduation day. Though it’s not a happy graduation day for a lot of the students that get caught up in something horrible. I’ll leave it at that.

What do you like to do to relax?

Relaxation isn’t a term my body knows. But I typically paint or read when I want to wind down, it usually relaxes me. But since I’m currently planning a wedding, there isn’t much time for relaxation in my life.

 What are you currently working on?

Right now I’m currently working on The Wicked Rescue Mission this is book two in my Valhaven Island Trilogy. I’m also working on a few short stories in some other anthology projects that should be releasing later this year: Forever Red, Agabe, Sins of the Future, and Carolina Horror Stories. I seem to work on short stories more than I do my own novels lately.

How can readers connect with you?

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorChasityNicole

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ChasityNicole90

WordPress: https://chasitynicole720.wordpress.com/

Website: http://chasitynicolebooks.weebly.com/

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Chasity-Nicole/e/B00IK00OPS/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1

Would you like to read a snippet of A Ghostly Haunting? Sure you do!

My life is far from ordinary, but who would expect a person that sees ghosts to have a normal life. I spend my days talking to people that do not physically exist—well they did at one time, but now they are dead. Usually these people have some form of unfinished business. They’re too scared to move on, or they simply don’t want to move on. Those who don’t want to move on, spend their entire afterlife haunting the living. They claim it is the only thing that makes them feel whole again—whatever that’s supposed to mean.

I was able to see the dead at a very young age, and it freaked my family out. Ever since I first realized that I could speak with the deceased, I have had a strong bond with both the spirit realm and the world we live in. I was the only one that understood my ability to see ghosts and communicate with them; everyone else pinned me off as nuts—until they needed my help because they were being haunted. Everyone calls the psychic chick when they need help, but, aside from that, I’m just your average seventeen-year-old nutcase that lives down the street.

Read the rest of the story in Sins of the Past.

Sins Of The Past

 

 

Sins of the Past – Sanctum by J. Kendall

SanctumBanner

There was only the sound of the wind, howling endlessly day and night, from long ago. What was once a busy town of rich miners during the Gold Rush was now a ghost town of rotting buildings, barren fields, and wind.  Oh how the wind howls in that valley as if filled with wolves hungry for prey in the darkness…

All was darkness. No light penetrated the eyes of the young boy as he lay face down on the cold stone floor.  His breath came in violent bursts from his chest; he tried vainly to rise and could not.  Panting he pushed with all his might against the floor and lifted his shoulders a few inches. All he remembered was pain, searing agony that penetrated his very existence.  He had no idea what caused the pain, only that he felt the pain in his soul and longed for an end to it.  He struggled to rise again. This time he was able to roll onto his back and sit up.  Memories of the pain still fresh, his very nerves still tingled as he sat. He closed his eyes and fought with his mind to stop the pain completely, to just brush it aside. It was no use the pain was still there, overwhelming him.  What was happening to him?

He opened his eyes again slowly, trying to maintain control and not give in to the pain. Something was different, there was light around him, a soft glow from behind him.  He could not see the source, but could see that his own body made a shadow before him.  He took strength from the change and coerced his body to do his will. He stood. He felt weak, but forced himself to stand steady.  Time passed. He had no way to measure how long. Isaac turned his body around toward the light.  His head was still looking down. Slowly, through the pain he raised his head. It seemed like eternity passed him by as his face climbed toward the sky. The light became brighter and his eyes came into focus. He realized what he was looking at, the moon…

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” the scream tore through his lips. His mouth opened wider that he thought was possible. Pain exploded, beginning in his feet and climbing his legs. More pain that he could imagine, worse than before, and then all went dark…

All was still. First he felt the softness of the blanket he was wrapped in, and then he heard soft voices in his room.

“Will he be all right?” the anxious voice of his mother asked in the darkness.

“He’ll be fine, woman. He is just starting early,” his father’s deep voice answered. It seemed to be his father, yet the words sounded strange as if formed by a different mouth.

“He won’t remember this in the morning.  We may have to send him on his next birthday instead of waiting till next year.”

“No! We can’t. I don’t want him to go.” His mother’s voice rose as she spoke.

“We have no choice and neither does he, foolish woman.  We cannot deny him the only help available.  Besides the Council will make him go if we try to keep him here.  Surely they already know what happened here tonight.  Their spies are everywhere; they know everything.”

Want to read more? Pick up a copy of Sins of the Past!

Sins

J Kendal has been creative all his life. He has expressed that creativity in many ways including writing, drawing, painting, and music. He lives In Illinois, USA, has a wife named Kelly and a red heeler named Dain Ironfoot.  He loves reading and sailing.

J Kendall has written many short stories including Where the Darkness Dwells, Whatever happened to Seth and The Chronicles of Overworld.  Two children’s works that are nearly completed are KA and the Dragon and MUB (Monster Under the Bed.)  Most of his writing is in the fantasy genre.  He has two novel length works in process right now. He has also written several comic strips including Pigmail-Leon, Snowman’s Life and Pirates of Santa Louisa.

Visit J Kendall on his website or on Facebook.

Sins of the Past – Say Hello to Kerry E.B. Black

Kerry

Today on Paws4Thought I continue our series of Sins of the Past interviews with author Kerry E.B. Black.

Tell us a little bit about yourself, Kerry. 

I live in a little town outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in a little sunshiny house stuffed with a very funny spouse, amazing kids, two dogs, a soft cat, and two fish. The house is too small for all of us, but it is ours.

I come from a line of talented storytellers. My mom remains an inspiration. She tells amazing tales.

Who are your favorite authors?  

Good heavens, there are so many! I am an eclectic reader. If I have to choose but one author, though, I adore Neil Gaiman.

Tell us a bit about your story Maleficium?

My story in the Sins of the Past came from a document, a surviving letter from Anne of Cleves’ brother, requesting of King Henry Tudor a change in her household. I quote the letter at the end of the story. It fired my imagination, and that is how the story came to be.

Did you do any research for your story?

Of course!

What inspires you to write?

Writing is a way of being. It is a necessary creative expression and a skill to be honed. I enjoy the work. What inspires my stories? All manner of things inspire my stories. Some spring from my unhealthy array of fears. Others come from personal experiences and observations. I love to share my take on the world. I hope that readers like what I see.

If you could go back to any time period and place, when and where would you go?

I’m a bit of a history nut. I would love to visit much of our past, including Tudor England. However I’m also a wimp and really appreciate our modern conveniences.

When did you first start writing?

My first stories were written for underclassmen at my elementary school. I illustrated and wrote stories, bound them on oversized pages, and presented them. I was ten I think when I started these undertakings. Writing has nearly always been a part of my life. I write short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. I’ve published creative non-fiction and journalistic pieces as well. It is my dearest desire that my stories find homes within the imaginations of my readers.

What do you like to do to relax?

Reading, of course, or spending time with my family and friends. My life is quite hectic, so sometimes stealing a few moments for a hot cup of tea is the best that can be managed. I paint or sketch sometimes, too.

What are you currently working on?

I’m currently working on short stories for an anthology called Forever Red. The one that I’ve submitted is also historic in nature.

How can readers connect with you?

I have a Twitter account (KerryBlack@BlackKerryblick), Goodreads author’s page, and WordPress Blog (http://kerrylizblack.wordpress.com/)

Time for some Tudor terror – read a little of Kerry’s story Maleficium:

Something haunted the garden path. It was difficult to identify the cause of my unease. Certainly, another of the household could be enjoying the pathways. Something about the charge of the air, though, set my hair on end beneath my clothing. My eyes strained as I sought to identify the figures approaching.

Two people, a man and a woman, in proper, courtly attire strolled, but something in their movements betrayed them. The woman walked too free of confinement, and the man stalked like one of the panthers in the tower. Their heads jerked at odd angles, and their hushed tones carried alarming messages.

“Princess pudding is mighty nice!”

“I like royal flesh the best, but I am angry enough to eat the inferiors in there. How dare that flame-haired brat not show? Without a note of explanation, too.”

“I can braid her hair into falls. Red is much in favor these days. Red falls to sell in market when the meat is gone.”

With quiet care, I pulled my feet under the bench. The sulfuric stench choked me, but I held my breath to keep from coughing. They stood within ten feet of my hiding place, conversing as they stripped a thin branch of its leaves.

Want to read more? Pick up a copy of Sins of the Past today.

Sins Of The Past