On Vacation...but not really. #amediting

Happy holidays everyone! I'm enjoying it with my family. I'm also working through final edits of VOICES via my publisher and the final draft of THE ISLAND to submit to them. It's been a busy month! I'll be back on January 5th. Have a safe and happy holiday.




Here's a sneak peek at VOICES
A paranormal psychological horror
Coming from Permuted Press May 19, 2015.

**Cover art TBA

VOICES

Sometimes the ghosts from your past...are real

Moira Flynn is arrested for attacking a door-to-door solicitor with a knife. She claims a voice told her the man was intent on assaulting her. The trouble is, she was the only one that heard that voice. Moira strikes a plea bargain and is sent to a psychiatric hospital for voluntary treatment. Dr. Richard Cassano is hesitant to treat her as schizophrenic, as she does not show the standard symptoms. As their sessions progress, Moira confesses there are two voices—and they aren’t voices in her head, but the voices of ghosts. Are they imaginary? Or are they actual spirits, attached to her for reasons of their own? As Moira’s doctor uncovers more of her past, he begins to realize that her ghosts are real. And one of them is determined to drag Moira into the afterlife with him.

STRUCK - Winner of the Indie Book of the Day Award!

I got a nice surprise in my email today!

STRUCK is the Winner of the Indie Book of the Day Award

Frightening Friday-Storm Clouds Ripping Through My Eyes

Continuing with my flash fiction month. The photos this week are my own. I had the stories in my head when I took them. I watch clouds a lot, especially storm clouds. I find them mesmerizing.

Storm Clouds Ripping Through My Eyes

The movement began in the clouds. Nothing out of the ordinary. Little movements, like tendrils of smoke. It was only when you looked away that the tendrils coagulated into shapes and forms. Some were human-like and some...were more beastly. The beasts ran wild like horses. Their feet pounded the grey clouds like heartbeats. Their faces contorted into soundless screams as they reared their heads in tortured ferocity. The human-like figures ran behind them. Sky clad. Formed and unformed. A cacophony of darks and lights pressed together like clay.

And then...they fell from the sky. One by one, the shapes fell. They screamed and plummeted to earth. They swooped down upon those who had been unlucky enough to notice them.

But one held back. One. It was different than the others. It held a greater temperance. The others would fall upon whomever had noticed them. They would rip unfortunate souls to shreds and satiate their hunger without pausing to think.

But this One would wait.

A man lay dying in a field. The cloying smell of death lay over the area like a grasping hand. The field was soaked in the blood of many. The man's time had come.

It swooped down, a swirling mass of black, white and grey. Descending upon him, it triumphantly captured the man's last breath. Whether it was a breath of relief or a breath of loss didn't matter to it. It had waited. It could return to the clouds. The others would be forced to satiate their hunger. But it? It would be free, once more.

Thoughtful Thursday-Behind the Door

Continuing with my flash fiction month, the photos this week are my own. I had the stories in my head when I took them.

Behind the Door

The door knob rattled. It was a worn-out skeletal sound, like the knob had been rattled many, many times before.

She reached for it, unsure whether she should commit to seeing what lay on the other side. It would be easy to walk away and pretend she'd never seen or heard the door knob move at all. There was nobody around, after all. Nobody to call her a scaredy-cat. Nobody to make fun. She could simply...walk away.

Except she couldn't. She was too curious. The door knob continued to rattle, the seductive sound echoing in her head. It was as if something was trying to tempt and draw her in. As if it dared her to see what lay on the other side. But I've been on the other side, she thought. And there was nothing there. 

She grabbed the knob and the rattling stopped. The metal was cold in her hand. Cold and still. What now? She contemplated opening the door quickly--kind of like ripping off a band-aide. Or maybe she'd open it slowly--like the many times she'd opened cupboards in the house she'd left behind. She was never one to do things slowly. Turning the knob with finality, she yanked open the door.

The ghost was unprepared for the bright light that lay behind it.

#Paranormal Wednesday-Cottage of Butterfly Wings

Continuing with my flash fiction month... The photos this week are my own--I had the stories in my head when I took them. I took this particular photo in a cottage we stayed at in Cumbria, England. The cottage had been built in 1693 and I fell in love with it. As to the photo--I found the butterfly in a closed-up larder. Initially, I thought the butterfly was dead. My daughter poked at it and the poor thing flopped this way and that, seemingly lifeless. But for some reason (I'm actually afraid of butterflies) I felt compelled to keep checking on it. By the next day, it started to move and I opened the window and let it out. A strange miracle, I guess.

Cottage of Butterfly Wings

The butterfly lay dead on the window sill. The room had been closed up for some time. It had taken all her effort to open the door, and she was greeted with a small, empty space made of stone. A single, closed window overlooked the garden. The stone was cold under her hands and the dead butterfly lay upon it.

She had listened to the desperation in the woman's voice for the past hour. Forgotten but still present, the voice echoed throughout the cottage, sticking in the corners like residue. Flashes of the woman's life had come to her: once in the garden (it was bitterly cold that winter) once in the bedroom (her domain, choose the other room to sleep in) and the strongest one at the back door (Mary? Where are you, child? Mary!).  The strongest one bothered her the most.

The woman's ghostly presence had been persistent. It had lingered alongside of her as she moved from room to room. Do not disturb my things. This is my house, not yours. Once she reached the back door, the screaming would start again. Mary? Where are you, child? Mary!  The woman would forget her altogether, caught up in her own desperation.

The butterfly remained lifeless and she halfheartedly poked at it. She suspected the child had drowned, though there were no ponds or streams around that she knew of. The child had long, blonde hair. She liked to run and play in the sunshine. She was always laughing and getting into things. She wore a long, white dress and leather shoes. These thoughts came to her like heartbeats.

The space around her became silent. The woman wanted her to remember. Remember the child I lost.

She blew on the butterfly's wings and the insect began to stir.

Tangled Tuesday-What Gets Left Behind

Continuing with my flash fiction month, the photos this week are my own. I had the stories in my head when I took them. I went inside this abandoned building after I took the photo. It pretty much contained what my character found...with the exception of a thing or two.

What Gets Left Behind

The place was an eyesore. Abandoned, the only thing the building was good for was housing drunks and prostitutes. It stood for the past thirteen years on her father's property. Now that he was gone, she had every intention of leveling it.

She picked her way through the refuse, kicking aside the empty beer bottles, used condoms and needles. Her father always made her promise to stay away from this place. Even on his death bed. Now she could see why. Not only was it cluttered with the darker side of human nature, it smelled like something had died.

She spied a dark form huddled in the corner. Crap. Thinking it was a transient, she started to tell him to leave. Before the words could pass her lips, the form dissolved to the ground. She blinked. Must be a trick of the light. Suddenly, a form darted to the other side of the room. Her heart raced. What the hell? A cat? No cat moved like that. As a matter of fact, no animal she could think of moved like that. Quick. Fluid. Without gait.

The chain of her necklace slid along the back of her neck. Whipping around, she faced nothing. Her breath quickened. Calm down. She turned back, her gaze searching the room. A small noise like a whisper arose from the corner. Taking a quick step backwards, she caught her foot on the handle of a shovel and tripped. The darkness slid to the other corner. Hair stood on the back of her neck. Her eyes watered. That wasn't right. Nothing moved like that. Nothing from this world, her thoughts warned. Get out of here. Now.

Backing away slowly, she kept her attention fastened on the corner. She could see whatever it was, still huddled there. It was watching her. Gauging her movements. Waiting for her to drop her guard. Which I have no intention of doing, she thought. One move and I'll run so fast, you'll be eating my dust. And trust me, I can run pretty damn fast if I'm scared enough. Her stomach churned. And I'm pretty fucking scared right now.

Little did she know while backing away...that there were two of them.
And the other one was right behind her.

#MeatlessMonday-Versatile #Vegetarian Shepherd's Pie

Photo courtesy of Amber Karnes via Flickr

This recipe is versatile because the vegetables can be adjusted to what you like or what you've got "on hand." It may seem like a complicated recipe but it's actually easy: make your mashed potatoes and set aside, saute veggies of choice, mix in the gravy with the veggies, top the veggie mixture with the mashed potatoes and bake. Enjoy! 

Versatile Vegetarian Shepherd's Pie

Mashed potato layer:

1-1/2 lbs (about 6 potatoes) Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into quarters
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons heavy cream
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon milk (or more)

1/2 cup Cheddar cheese

Directions:

Place the potatoes in a pot, cover with cold water, and bring to a boil. Turn the heat to medium-low, and boil the potatoes until tender, about 25 minutes; drain.
Stir in cream, butter and salt. Mash with a potato masher, adding the milk, until smooth and fluffy. Set the potatoes aside. 

Cheddar cheese will be used as topping later.

Vegetable layer:

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 large yellow onion, chopped
1 teaspoon basil
1 clove garlic, minced, or more to taste
1 tsp ground black pepper

6 cups of chopped fresh vegetables of your choice.

Some to consider are: mushrooms, carrots, corn, celery, green beans, zucchini or squash of any kind, red peppers, green peppers, parsnips, peas, and/or spinach. 

Directions

Heat the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onions, basil, garlic, pepper and sliced vegetables of choice. Cook until vegetables are softened but not overdone. 

Vegetarian gravy:

6 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons finely chopped onions
2 tablespoons finely chopped mushrooms
2 minced garlic cloves
3 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 cup water
1/2 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp basil

Directions

1. Saute the onions, mushrooms and garlic with the butter.
3. Make a roux by gradually adding the flour. Make sure you continuously whisk to avoid lumps!
4. Still whisking, add soy sauce and water to the mixture.
5. Add salt and pepper and cook until it reaches the desired thickness.

Add to vegetable mixture

To assemble: 

Preheat oven to 400F and spray a 15x10 glass baking dish (or 3-qt casserole dish) with cooking spray.

Spread bottom layer mixture into the the baking dish and top with the mashed potatoes, smoothing them into an even layer. 

Sprinkle the potatoes with 1/2 cup shredded Cheddar cheese.

Bake in the preheated oven until the cheese is melted and slightly browned and the casserole is hot, about 20 minutes.

Free today via Musa Publishing - STRUCK by Clarissa Johal

In celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas, STRUCK is free on December 13th via Musa Publishing. Grab your copy!

The shadows hadn't been waiting.
The shadows had been invited.

After a painful breakup, Gwynneth Reese moves in with her best friend and takes a job at a retirement home. She grows especially close to one resident, who dies alone the night of a terrific storm. On the way home from paying her last respects, Gwynneth is caught in another storm and is struck by lightning. She wakes in the hospital with a vague memory of being rescued by a mysterious stranger. Following her release from the hospital, the stranger visits her at will and offers Gwynneth a gift--one that will stay the hands of death. Gwynneth is uncertain whether Julian is a savior or something more sinister... for as he shares more and more of this gift, his price becomes more and more deadly.

5-star reviews from Lovely Reads, Straight from the Library and Bex'n;Books.
4-star review from Bibliophilic Book Blog

Frightening Friday-Kentucky Fried Revenge

The photos this week are my own. I had the stories in my head when I took them. This one was a bit silly but here goes...

Kentucky Fried Revenge

He liked chickens. He liked them better fried but he didn't mind when they strutted about making chicken noises either. The sound was kind of relaxing. But what had woken him wasn't relaxing. What had woken him sounded like a fox or a coyote getting into his hen house.

One of the chickens plucked its way towards him and began pecking at his slipper.

"Knock it off." He nudged it away with his toe. "Bird! Knock it off."

The lone chicken was followed by several of its brethren. Clustering around his feet, they too, began to peck at his slippers. And it hurt. He was wearing velvet slippers his grandma had bought him. Nice slippers but they did little to ward off sharp beaks. He stepped away from the flock.

Shining his flashlight into the darkness, he couldn't see any sign of a predator. "Scared it off, did you?" He glanced at the flock of chickens, all lined in a row and facing him. It was probably a trick of his flashlight but their eyes were glowing. Frowning, he shone the light directly on them. The chickens scattered like roaches.

He followed their trails to the edges of the chicken pen. The coop fence had been damaged. Tufts of fur scattered the area.  It looked like something had been dragged through the gap, and it wasn't one of his chickens. Blood and fur clung to the wiring.

"What the hell?" The chickens huddled in the corners, shying away from his light. "What's gotten into you birds?" He shone the flashlight directly on one. It lunged at him, its beak opening in a soundless shriek. "Back off, bird!" The man kicked at it. The chicken lunged again.

One by one, the other chickens turned towards him. This time, there was no mistake, their eyes were glowing red. They came towards him as a flock, hissing.

He fell with a cry and landed flat on his back. The flock descended upon him, their beaks sharp and unforgiving.

Thoughtful Thursday-Do Angels Bite Their Nails?

The photos this week are my own. I had the stories in my head when I took them. Enjoy!

Do Angels Bite Their Nails?

The graveyard was still and silent.

"I don't know what to do." He wrung his hands fitfully. Then stop, his inner voice argued. Your time has passed.

Jumping over grave markers, she ran through the cemetery. She stayed in the shadows, dodging the dappled sunshine. Twirling in ecstasy, the young woman laughed up at the blue sky. Her attention was captured by a bouquet of white lilies. Plucking them from the gravestone's stone urn, she scattered the flowers across another marker.

Wild as she was, he couldn't deny a part of him hoped she'd never change. He chastised himself for his weakness. "Why did you do that?"

Her look of surprise was quickly replaced to one of defiance. "The other had the flowers long enough." Turning her back on him, she continued up the hill.

"Where are you going?"

"To the top of the hill."

"I can see that," he said, wringing his hands. "There's nothing up there."

"I'm up there," she replied. "Are you calling me nothing?"

He ignored her remark. "You're not supposed to be out, you know."

"They can't keep me trapped forever." She glanced back at him, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "I know how to get out."

They stood next to each other and took in the view. The hill overlooked a pastoral valley dotted with trees. The slope dipped steeply and ran into shadows below.

"I'm going to run as fast as I can," her voice echoed.

He grabbed her arm. "No you're not."

"I am." She shook him off. "And you can't stop me."

He watched her tear down the hill. Faster and faster she ran until her feet couldn't keep up with her velocity. She tripped and tumbled, a tangle of red hair and hospital gown, until she landed in a broken heap. If he could have uttered a curse and gotten away with it, he would have.

She stepped away from her body before he could reach her. The sparkle was gone from her eyes. Ghostly traces of defiance trickled away like sunlight.

"I-I tried." His sense of failure weighed heavily upon his shoulders.

"You couldn't stop me then and you can't now," she said to him, her expression serious. "We need to stop doing this."

"I can't." He watched her body dissolve into nothingness.

***

The graveyard was still and silent.

"I don't know what to do." He wrung his hands fitfully. Then stop, his inner voice argued. Your time has passed.

Jumping over grave markers, she ran through the cemetery...

#Paranormal Wednesday-Phone Box of the Dead

The photos this week are my own. I had the stories in my head when I took them. This particular story came to me complete with music. Hit play (down at the bottom) and read on...

Phone Box of the Dead

The door wouldn't budge. Desperate, she pounded on it. Peering down the empty alleyway, she was doubtful anyone would be coming by soon. It was late and the shops had been closed for hours. Outside the phone box, the night was still.

She rooted in her purse for a coin and came up empty-handed. "Figures," she murmured.  She could call 999. But this hardly ranked as an emergency, the door to the phone box was merely stuck. She pushed on it again to no avail. An icy breeze slipped through the cracks, chilling her to the core. Her breath plumed in the night air.

A distant sound of music broke the silence. Mournful, the music threaded its way down the alleyway.

Pressing against the glass, she tried to see where the music was coming from. Maybe a car or someone's iPhone?  "Hello?" she called. Thank God. I thought I'd be trapped here all night.

The movement began far at the end of the dark alleyway. Mere glimpses at first; the curl of a fingertip and the flash of pale skin. But slowly, the movement coagulated into something tangible. A form emerged from the darkness like a moth from its cocoon, followed by another, and another. Moving in slow motion, they drifted with the music in an unspoken unity.

Bare feet skimmed over puddles of rain, leaving not a trace. Vestiges of cloaks, tattered like spiderwebs, clung to what was left of their ghostly bodies. The music increased in tempo. The procession danced in joyless abandon as they continued past her, their faces contorted in sadness and despair.

"What the hell?" she murmured.

A tall, shadowed figure trailed in their wake. Gently guiding those that strayed off the path, he seemed to be herding them towards their destination.

She backed up as far as she could inside the phone box. Hoping the door remained stuck, she jammed it shut with her foot. He didn't seem to notice her, at least she didn't think he did. The others continued in their unearthly procession. The icy breeze continued to blow through the cracks of the phone box, bringing with it the smell of stone, decay and ashes.

The tall figure's stride was seemingly pensive. Shadows curled around his feet like smoke. His cloak dragged behind him with a tangible heaviness. Walking past the phone box, he kept his distance.

She was about to breathe a sigh of relief...when he suddenly turned to face her.


The Music

Tangled Tuesday-Faerie Ring

The photos this week are my own. I had the stories in my head when I took them. Enjoy!

Faerie Ring

She lay on her stomach and contemplated the mushroom. It was only one, she reasoned. There were so many of them. The faerie ring would still be a ring, regardless of what the man had warned.

Inhaling its scent again, she wondered if it was edible. She knew all the varieties that grew in the forest; which ones were poisonous and which ones weren't. These were unlike any she had come across. They smelled different. Not earthy like most mushrooms--but like wildflowers, sunshine and honey. Like magic.

It was only one...

Holding her breath, she plucked the mushroom from the ground. Dirt clung to the bottom of the stem and she brushed it off. The mushroom was flawless and beautiful, its scent like a heady perfume. "See?" she breathed. "Nothing happened. The man was making a fool of you."

The mushroom turned black and withered in her fingertips. Its scent changed from one of summer breezes...to one of death.

Tossing it aside, she sat up, her heart racing. Trepidation pricked at her insides. Grabbing a handful of pine needles, she covered the blight she'd left in the dirt. Her gaze darted around the ring. She tried to ignore the gap and couldn't. The ring was broken now. The mushrooms grew in a perfect circle until you reached the place she'd defiled. What had the man said? Break the ring and betwixt you'll be. Betwixt what? Just thinking about it gave her a headache. In fact, her head was throbbing quite painfully. She closed her eyes to ward off an onslaught of dizziness.

Falling onto her back, she looked up at what had been a blue sky mere moments ago. She was unprepared for the darkness that enshrouded her.

#MeatlessMonday-Earl Grey Tea Shortbread #dessert

Photo courtesy of t&t bild(A)welt via Flickr

Starting on Tangled Tuesday, I'll post another week of short stories-- a gift from me to you. Happy Holidays!

I'll share a shortbread recipe today. You can substitute any tea leaves but Earl Grey has that nice scent of bergamot. Make sure you grind the leaves well--a mortar and pestle works best. Enjoy!

Earl Grey Tea Shortbread

1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1/2 tsp salt
1-T Earl Grey tea leaves, ground
1 cup flour, sifted

Preheat oven to 325F

Lightly butter 8 inch round pan
Beat butter with electric mixer until light in color, about 1 minute
Gradually mix in sugar, salt and tea leaves. Mix in flour until just combined

Press dough into pan. If desired, sprinkle with sugar and make patterns with a fork before baking.

Bake 30 minutes
Cut into 12 wedges

Frightening Friday-Doll Parts, A Christmas Story

Continuing with my "photo-inspired" short story week...

Photo courtesy of Moyan_Brenn via Flickr

Doll Parts, A Christmas Story

"I think you'll like this piece." The shopkeeper led Nick into the dark recesses of the antique store. "It was from an estate sale. Took us forever to find the key for the cabinet. It was in a sealed vase. Even so, we never could get the lock to open."

He pulled a threadbare quilt aside. A worn, wooden cabinet stood. Inside the cabinet, was a plethora of dolls. Naked bodies were missing their appendages; the ripped-off arms and legs in savage disarray. Eyes stared lifelessly through the glass. Tufts of hair littered the corners. Plastic skin had been flayed from several skeletal structures. It was if the dolls had been cast aside by some masochist child. Or they had been stacked and put on display; the unfortunate trophies of a serial killer.

"My wife says it's 'objet d'art.' "  The shopkeeper gave a tired shrug.  "I think it was just someone's collection. But they'd be a good start if you're looking for toys to fix and resell."

"Not resell," Nick corrected. "To give away as gifts."

There was a small rustle from within the cabinet. The doll heads turned to face him, their lips moving in a silent plea. Let us out, Nick. Let us out.

Nick stepped back, his thoughts in disarray. The doll parts continued to twitch and shudder. Bent legs kicked at an invisible assailant. Clasping fingers were frozen in supplication.

"Did you want to try the key yourself?" The shopkeeper reached into the pocket of his over-sized sweater. "Maybe you can get it to work."

"No." His strangled reply barely escaped his lips.

Let us out, Nick. The glass on the cabinet shook, as if the dolls were seeking escape. Please!

Nick glanced at the shopkeeper, who seemed unmoved by their pleas. Maybe he doesn't see. But how can that be? He's looking right at them. 

Only you can see, Nick. The doll's child-like voices whispered desperately against the glass. Their torsos shifted, spines twisting this-way-and-that. Dismembered arms and legs rolled to the sides. Fingers scratched against the wood of the cabinet in an attempt to escape. Let us out. 

"You seem like you're a nice guy." The shopkeeper pursed his lips thoughtfully as he eyed the cabinet. "Let's say...fifty even. Clean them up, snap them back together, a little plaster to cover the damage. Good as new."

Nick turned and fled. The doll voices followed him, worming their way into his brain like beetles.

Thoughtful Thursday-Wildflowers

Continuing with flash fiction based on photo inspiration...
A peek into something bigger—most likely, they will come together as a full-length book later. Enjoy!

Photo courtesy of Neal. via Flickr

Wildflowers

It was the wishing that kept her alive.

She lay in a field of wildflowers. Plucking a petal from one, she flicked it away. “He loves me.” She plucked another, crushing its soft smoothness between her thumb and forefinger. “He loves me not.” She rolled over onto her side. Her hair, once secured around the crown of her head, was now tangled with leaves and trailed in a loose braid.

He appeared seemingly from nowhere; walking through the field and crushing wildflowers under his boots. Dressed in black from head-to-toe, his crisp, white button-up shirt stood in stark contrast. He looked as if he were off to a wedding. Or a funeral.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” Removing his top hat, he dusted it across his knee. Long, dark hair blew in the breeze.

“I’m lying here.” She didn't bother keeping the resentment from her voice. He was not the first to disturb her peace, though this one hadn't come the same way the others had.

“I can see that.” His eyes flashed annoyance. “You're in my field.”

“It isn't your field. ‘Tis mine. I've been here longer than you've crossed it.”

“Indeed?” 

She studied his clothing and demeanor; a curious mixture of old and new.

“Well, then. I apologize.” A bemused smile traced his lips. “Perhaps we may share?”

She sat up, the lace trim at the neck of her dress suddenly binding. “Perhaps.”

He settled beside her, long-legged and taking up what seemed like the last available space. “I didn't expect to see anyone else.”

“Nor did I.” She couldn't stop her gaze from travelling up to his face. It was an interesting face. Dark eyes, made to appear darker by the eyeliner he was wearing. A proud nose. Well-shaped lips. A silver ring hung from one of his earlobes. Only one. It matched the silver buttons along his black velvet coat. She gathered her long skirts closer.

“I started to turn back…” His gaze slid towards the line of trees. “But then I saw you from the woods.”

She caught the confusion on his brow. “There is but one path from here.”
It was the wishing that kept her alive.

He turned his attention to her face. “Seems a lonely path.” 

“I suppose it is…for some.”

“Will you walk it with me?” 

She worried her long braid and dropped her gaze.  “I am not ready to leave.”

"Neither was I," he replied. “I suppose we shall sit here and take in the scenery until we're both ready.”

“I suppose we shall.” The crushed petal she held between her thumb and forefinger slipped away like an afterthought. 

The wildflower-scattered graveyard once held headstones. They had crumbled to dust long ago, the dead now forgotten.

It was the wishing that kept them alive.

#Paranormal Wednesday-The Whispering Woods

I found this photo last month while looking for one of Irish Colcannon. The photo stuck in my head and is included in my week of photo-inspired flash fiction. Again, think of these as a peek into something bigger. Most likely, they will come together as a full-length book. Enjoy!

The Whispering Woods

Photo courtesy of Davi Ozolin via Flickr

The darkness was like a veil.

Slipping her feet from the bed covers, she winced as the lace from the hem of her nightgown scratched her ankles. She sat and listened. A barely audible whisper drifted from the open window. It was almost as if it was calling to her. The cottage was otherwise silent and still, the embers from the evening fire still burning in the fireplace.

She searched for her woolen cloak and found it dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Draping it over her shoulders, she fastened it. The sound started again and she froze, waiting for it to dissipate. Quickly slipping her bare feet into well-worn leather boots, she struggled to light the candle beside her bed.

The night held the impending breath of winter. A breeze slid through near-bare branches, stripping them of their leaves and stirring complaints. A full moon shone overhead, surrounded by a luminous fairy ring. Stars dotted an otherwise inky sky.

Following the now-distant sound, she made her way through the thicket of trees. Forest animals darted from her path, startled from their nocturnal activities. Her feet made shushing sounds through leaves that scattered the forest floor. She held the candle in front of her. Wax spilled onto her fingertips. The candle's flame hesitated before it went out with a puff.

An unattended fire burned in a clearing. Its flames licked up into the star-dotted sky. The burning wood crackled with delight. The fire's fevered intensity beckoned to her. She made her way towards it, if only to warm her icy hands before deciding if she should return to her cottage.

A whisper sounded from behind her. She whipped around, searching the forest with her gaze. The glow from the firelight rendered her blind.

Silence. The forest was still, almost as if it too, was holding it's breath.

She stepped from the comfort of the fire. Little by little, her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The whisper started again. Two green spots flashed, like eyes. Startled, she suddenly felt the presence behind her.

It was the last thing she remembered.

Tangled Tuesday-Something About the Trees

This week, I'll be writing flash fiction based on photo inspiration. Think of them as a peek into something bigger. Most likely, they will come together as a full-length book later.  Enjoy!

Photo courtesy of Tijs Zwinkels via Flickr

Something About the Trees

She placed her hands on the trunk. A warmth emanated from the tree. It was a welcome warmth and she took comfort in it. Shivering and lost, she had spent the past few hours wondering if she would ever find her way out of the forest. The tree smelled good too. Not like oak or the green moss that veiled its trunk, but something else she couldn't define. She lay her cheek against its rough bark.

Someone was trapped inside the tree. 

The feeling hit hard and she pulled back. Her heart sped up. "That's ridiculous," she said aloud. "How can someone be trapped inside a tree?" Tentative, she scratched at the moss with her fingernail. It came away in a chunk and left a raw spot.

Suddenly, she heard a voice. She froze. Her stomach went in knots. The forest was silent except for the sound of her own breathing. That wasn't a voice, her thoughts chattered. That was somebody else's thoughts. 

"You've been wandering for too long," she whispered. "You're starting to hallucinate." She took a step back, unsure of what to do. The desperate plea started again, assailing her brain. And it was coming from within the tree.  My God, I have to get him out. "Hello?" She hit the trunk with her fist.

A bitter wind invaded the forest. Leaves sliced down from the branches overhead. Brushing against her bare arms, they left a trail of blood. Her blood.

She stared at the wounds, confused. Blood trickled down her arms and along her fingertips. The ground was splashed with crimson.

The pleading stopped.

Backing up, she tripped and fell over the roots that undulated from the forest floor. Her breath came in gasps as she scrambled to her feet. More leaves rained down on her, slicing through her skin like knives. The trees seemed to close in on her eagerly.

She was certain of two things; the man in the tree had been there for quite some time...and he wasn't the only one.

#MeatlessMonday-Roasted Mushroom Vegetable Stock #vegetarian #vegan

Update on Tofurky. I decided to follow the instructions on the package for my first experiment with this food. There are recipes out there, including the one I posted last week, which may have made a difference. My unbiased vegetarian opinion:

-It tastes like plain seitan--which you can make at home much cheaper and better tasting.
-Kind of dry. I added some vegetarian gravy and it was "just okay,"
-Doesn't taste like turkey. I have no idea why it's called Tofurky (other than the fact it has some pretty good stuffing inside).
-There are better protein substitutes/meat alternatives out there for $8/pound.

***

Keeping it basic today. With the holidays coming, here's a good veggie stock to make and freeze in batches. Feel free to add extra vegetables of choice to this recipe. Can be used for soups, gravies and sauces.

Photo courtesy of Veganbaking.net via Flickr

Roasted Mushroom Vegetable Stock

2 onions, sliced
2 carrots, sliced
3 stalks celery, sliced
4 cloves garlic, sliced
1 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
8 oz. sliced mushrooms
1/8 cup yeast flakes

Preheat oven 450F

Coat shallow baking dish with olive oil. Add sliced onions, celery, carrots and garlic. Top with salt and pepper.

Roast uncovered in 450F oven for 15 minutes. Add mushrooms and stir and roast for 15 minutes longer.

Transfer to a large stock pot and add 3-1/2 cups cold water.

Bring to a boil and reduce heat. Simmer uncovered for 1-1/2 hours. Strain and add yeast flakes.

Yields 2-1/2 cups broth

STRUCK-1-Year Anniversary Blog Tour

STRUCK is looking for Blog Tour Hosts!

January 2015 marks the one-year anniversary for my paranormal gothic horror STRUCK.

Sapphyria's Book Reviews is hosting my blog tour.

If you're interested, please follow THIS LINK

The shadows hadn't been waiting.
The shadows had been invited.

After a painful breakup, Gwynneth Reese moves in with her best friend and takes a job at a retirement home. She grows especially close to one resident, who dies alone the night of a terrific storm. 

On the way home from paying her last respects, Gwynneth is caught in another storm and is struck by lightning. She wakes in the hospital with a vague memory of being rescued by a mysterious stranger. Following her release from the hospital, the stranger visits her at will and offers Gwynneth a gift--one that will stay the hands of death. Gwynneth is uncertain whether Julian is a savior or something more sinister... for as he shares more and more of this gift, his price becomes more and more deadly.

Reviews 

Lovely Reads "This book grabs you in right away and hold your attention...I so loved this book and didn't put it down until the very end."

Straight from the Library "The characters are well drawn and likable....The action is fast paced-- I read the book in one sitting "

Bex'n'Books "This is a spooky thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat. You won't be able to put it down because you must finish it to see what happens, even if it keeps you up late at night to do so."

Bibliophilic Book Blog "STRUCK will get beneath your skin from the very beginning. Gwen’s a likable character with a difficult past and tenuous future after meeting Julian. I liked the secondary characters, especially Fenten and Poppy. The characters were definitely all well-developed and engaging."

Frightening Friday-10 Facts About Black Friday

Black Friday. Words that strike terror into any sane person's heart. Aside from the ridiculousness of giving thanks one day and then overdosing in materialism the next, Black Friday has a reputation of being downright dangerous for shoppers.

Retailers traditionally operate at a financial loss or "in the red" from January through November. Black Friday indicates the point at which retailers begin to turn a profit, or  operate "in the black."

Here are 10 interesting facts about Black Friday.

1) It is estimated that 55% of Americans plan to skip the crowds on Black Friday and spend it at home.

2) Many Black Friday shoppers confess to shopping on very little sleep (36%), or under the influence of alcohol (12%). It that's not a good reason to stay off the roads, I don't know what is.

3) More "deals" are found online than in the stores.

4) Many products advertised as deep-discounts on Black Friday are “derivative products” — items that are similar to the standard model, but made with cheaper components and may not have the same features.

5) Some products during the last few days of the holiday shopping season sell for 10-15% less than they do on Black Friday

6) Many Black Friday doorbusters are either matched or beaten later in the season.

7) In the past several years, retailers have been caught jacking up prices before Black Friday, then lowering them with supposed "discounts" that leave the price higher than it was before.

8) Black Friday also gave birth to "Buy Nothing Day" by social activists against consumerism. It was promoted by Canadian magazine Adbusters to mark a day to examine the issue of over-consumption. When they tried to spread the trend in America, Adbusters was denied advertising time by all television networks except CNN. 

9) Up to 70% of in-store Black Friday deals are also available online for the same price or less.

10) Amazon will price match even the hottest in-store offers from retailers like Best Buy, Target, and Walmart.

Enjoy your day — however you plan to "spend" it. 

Thoughtful Thursday-#Photography and How Not to Steal

As some of you may know, I'm an amateur photographer.

I take pretty pictures like "Seraph"

Surreal photos like "Masques"
   

Creepy photos like "Body Snatcher"

...and don't forget my Victor series.

"Rules are for Chumps" is my favorite-Victor gets out of hand sometimes.





But I suck at taking pictures of food which is why I sometimes borrow public domain photos for my blog. I'll always cite the photographer in this case.

If you're using a photo in your blog or elsewhere, make sure you have permission to do so. The photographer can sue you for stealing. Photography is an art and you want to give credit where it's due. I would love to see more people on Pinterest cite the photographer when they "pin" a photo. It takes but a moment to check a link or drop the image in TinEye and figure out where it's from.

If you don't know where to get photos you can use—try these Public Domain Image sites. They're my go to's if I need a food photo or don't have time to take my own. In all cases, please cite the photographer!

Morguefile
Flickr  *Use the drop down License menu to select Creative Commons Only option.

I have a photography portfolio on deviantART if you want to check it out.
Join me on Facebook too. I post a lot of my silly photos there.

#Paranormal Wednesday-Giving

Today's post isn't paranormal in nature, at least not the way you're thinking. But technically, it is. One definition of paranormal is, "out of the realm of normal" which means this applies.

My daughter's high school requires students to volunteer 20 hours per year towards an organization or project of their choice. We've just learned this—half-way into the school year. And yes, it's because I haven't quite gotten my, "I have a child teenager in high school" sh%t together. But I'm all about philanthropy. The fact that the time commitment (which isn't much) caught me off-guard forced me to do some soul searching. Are my kids aware of community needs? (and) We volunteer from time-to-time, but do we need to make more of an effort?

Sort of, and yes.

So, we're starting a new tradition in my household. Each month, we're going to volunteer for something. We'll rotate who gets to choose what. It sounds easy but in the teen world of, "I'm too busy" it may be a bigger challenge than I anticipate.  But I want to make the effort. I want to raise my children teens to look beyond themselves—which means I lead by example. It should be an eye-opening year.

Have a great holiday weekend everyone!

Tangled Tuesday-12-year-old Guest Poet: O. Johal

I'm going to share with you a poem written by my 12-year-old daughter. She's a gifted poet. Get ready, I expect she'll be outshining me very soon.

Ice-Kissed

Of swaying branches and saffron leaves

Heed, the faintest blow of winter’s breath

Hear, the final nocturne of sun-bleached days

A hum, “Far, the warmth blows away”

The sight of frozen gossamer breath

The faintest feel of cold winter’s kisses

Cracking lips and sandpaper skin

Hanging in the air, “Far, the warmth blows away”

Presence of summer creatures, gone

A promise that waits,

“We will be back, but now we sleep”

Lorn, in the growing frore

Now, of blackened wood and bleached sky

Pin-tipped branches and powdered ground

A colorblind world, cold beauty

No songs to hear, only promises to retain

© O. Johal

  

#MeatlessMonday-Broccoli Sliders with Alfredo Sauce #vegetarian

Photo courtesy of miikkahoo via flickr

Broccoli Sliders

Ingredients

2 cups steamed broccoli
2 eggs
1/2 cup panko bread crumbs
1/2 cup feta cheese
1/4 cup pumpkin seeds
1/2 tsp salt (or to taste)
1/4 tsp pepper (or to taste)
Oil for pan frying

Directions

Combine in food processor: steamed broccoli, egg, salt, panko bread crumbs, pumpkin seeds, feta cheese and salt/pepper.
Blend just till chopped finely.
Using 1 heaping tablespoon at a time, form into balls.
Heat oil in a skillet. Drop balls of broccoli mixture into pan. Flatten with a spatula and cook until both sides are crispy.
Serve plain or on a slider bun with Alfredo sauce.

Alfredo Sauce

2 cups light cream

1 T butter
1 tsp garlic
1 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
4 large egg yolks
1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp lemon pepper

Whisk egg yolks until lightened in color. Set aside.
In a saucepan over medium heat, whisk together butter, garlic and cream, Bring to a simmer, 

Whisk in Parmesan cheese. Remove from heat. Add small amount of cheese mixture into egg yolks and combine. 

Pour egg mixture back into saucepan. Over low heat, whisk until well combined. Add salt and lemon pepper. 

Remove from heat. Alfredo sauce will thicken as it cools.

Thoughtful Thursday-Noise

I'm one of those people who needs absolute silence to write. I can't have anyone if the house either--I find their energy distracting. The other day, I was trying to pull up what a golden bell would sound like (research for The Island) and came across this.

Oddly, I ended up listening to it for the rest of my writing day. Enjoy your day!

#Paranormal Wednesday-The Ghost in My Machine

My car is possessed by a ghost. Laugh if you will, but it's true. It all started one evening while I was chit-chatting with a friend and lingering over good-byes after coffee. As many times as I unlocked the door to leave, the door would lock itself again. This happened over and over until I finally gave up. I manually unlocked the door, got in and drove away--only to have the door lock itself again. 

The other night, I was parked near the woods and got spooked by a noise. I hurried to my car and tried not to trip over my own feet in the dark. My interior lights turned on even before I pulled my key out. How thoughtful.

My CD player clock numbers have completely faded on my side of the read-out. Consequently, it's usually :13 o'clock or :26 o'clock, which can be a bit confusing. My husband tried to replace the built-in clock with a portable one--only to have it stop working within a week. My ghost evidently doesn't like to be kept on a schedule.

There are times the readout on my dash will brighten to a glare, but that tends to happen only when I'm singing. I guess the ghost doesn't like my singing. Everybody's a critic.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm not alone in my car. The feeling will be so intense, I'll have to pull over and check the back seat and trunk. It's kind of stupid but...  There have also been times when I'll feel a kick and the sensation of someone's foot running up and down the back of my seat.

None of the electrical issues are consistent or I would have them checked out at the dealership. It depends on my ghost's mood and the situation. So for now, I appease the ghost by not spending too much time on good-byes after a coffee date, not staying out after dark, not bothering with a schedule, and definitely not singing.

#MeatlessMonday-Tofurky and Mushroom Gravy #vegetarian #vegan

Photo of a Tofurky in the wild courtesy of megabeth via flickr

Yeah, we're gonna go there.
The first time I saw the words 'Tofurky.' Even I, a 20+ year vegetarian, thought, "Oh hell, no." This Thanksgiving, I asked my daughters (who aren't vegetarians) what they wanted for Thanksgiving dinner. One decided on stuffed salmon and the other wants flounder. Add some rice and vegetables, and they're good. But since I don't eat fish, that leaves me out.

Now, I could do what I always do and go with soup. I'm not very traditional. But this Thanksgiving I have a lot to be thankful for and thought I'd dabble in the traditional thing. So, I'm gonna go there. I'm going to buy a Tofurky and give it a try. I'm not fond of the flavor of meat but we'll see how it goes. Maybe my daughters will give it a try and discover a new family favorite.

Here's a Tofurky recipe I found on The Farm Sanctuary's website. We sponsor a turkey there every year. I tweaked the ingredients to suit my tastes. If you give it a go, let me know what you think. If you're a gravy fan, you can try the vegetarian mushroom gravy (which is really good on french fries, by the way!). Enjoy!


Tofurky Roast

Ingredients:

1 thawed Tofurky roast, unwrapped
1/3 cup honey
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons Chinese chili paste with garlic
8 cloves garlic, crushed
1/2 teaspoon pepper

1/2 teaspoon cumin

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

1. Whisk together honey, soy sauce, vinegar, chili paste, garlic, cumin and pepper. Pour over the Tofurky, coating all surfaces.
2. Cover Tofurky and refrigerate at least 4 hours.
3. Drain the Tofurky and place on a rack in a large, shallow roasting pan. Save the marinade!
4. Roast in preheated oven 45 minutes, basting with marinade.
5. Allow the roast to rest for 10 minutes before serving. 

Easy Vegetarian Mushroom Gravy

Ingredients

6 T butter

2 T finely chopped onions

2 T finely chopped mushrooms

2 minced garlic cloves

3 T flour

2 T soy sauce

1 cup water

1/2 tsp pepper

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp basil

Directions

1. Saute the onions, mushrooms and garlic with the butter.

3. Make a roux by gradually adding the flour. Make sure you continuously whisk to avoid lumps!

4. Still whisking, add soy sauce and water to the mixture.

5. Add salt and pepper and cook until it reaches the desired thickness.

#SelfieSunday - #hittingabrickwall #amwriting #paranormal

Playing with the camera when I should be writing. 

Frightening Friday-Adventures in Hair Color

I've always been a do-it-yourself person when it comes to hair color. Yes, yes, I know that makes hair stylists everywhere cringe. Rant away. I have two teenage girls and can't afford to spend $80 every month to get my hair done.

Usually, I'm good at a quick root retouch with a non-permanent dye. No fuss, no muss; $7 and 20 minutes. But this time, I decided to do something different. I was feeling adventurous and kind of...red. I like red. I used to have red hair when I was very little and it darkened to brown. Dark red seemed like a nice choice.

I went to the store and took no less than a half hour to choose the perfect shade of red. But when I finally settled on the one, I was happy with my choice.

< I bought this

After mixing A with B, the dye was the color of an orange Creamsicle. Gee, that wasn't alarming at all. I saturated my hair and waited in breathless anticipation-praying to the color Goddesses that the finished result wouldn't be some sick chemist's joke. The color once it was done?

Screaming red.

Kind of like this >

Which would have been fine--except it only took at the roots. About 2 inches of roots. Yay me.
I looked it up. My "oops" had a technical term--hot roots--which is exactly what it looked like.

I played around with bright hair color in the 80's when I had a mohawk. Green, pink, purple, bright red, I did them all. Cool when you're a 20-something college student, not so much now. But, it is what it is, and I take things as they come. My thoughts after I blow dried my hair? Yeah sure, I can rock this.

That afternoon, I went out shopping with my daughters. While one of them was trying on some clothes, I caught my reflection in the store mirror.

Oh, hell no.

The next day I bought a semi-permanent dye. Loreal "Healthy Look" in Dark Brown. I figured it would mellow out the red--kind of like mixing paint, you know? I held my breath for 20 minutes...and yes, it worked. It's about the color of the first photo now. Eventually, after 28 shampoos (so says the box) it will wash out.
But for now, it is what it is.

Thoughtful Thursday-Totems

Last May, I took a trip to Canada. In addition to uninterrupted hours of writing, I was able to do some sightseeing and reconnect. I grew up around First Nations totem art. I love the anthropomorphic faces and the complexity. Totem poles of the Northwest Coast are probably the most recognizable artifact of the culture.

The poles are usually carved from red cedar and complex in design. They were never used as objects of worship or to "ward" off evil spirits. They tell a story, revealed only if one knows the meaning assigned to various animals, fish, birds and designs and where they are placed on the pole.

This is storytelling at its finest; no written words where the "reader" has free reign to elaborate.

Some Animal Symbols 

(meaning varies according to tribe)

Killer Whale - Representing strength and bravery. The mythology of the killer whale states they will bring food and assistance to those in need.

Beaver - Creative, artistic and determined.

Raven - The trickster. Curious and mischievous.
Sea Turtle - Representative of Mother Earth.
Thunderbird - Manifests thunder while beating its wings and lightening by blinking it's eyes.

Eagle - Intelligent and resourceful. He rules the sky and is able to transform himself into a human.
Wolf - Very powerful with the ability to help people that are sick or in need. Represents strong family bonds.
Bear - Strength, a teacher and motherhood. It is believed that the bear taught the people how to hunt and pick berries.

Dogfish - Persistence and strength.

Moon - Protector and guardian at night.

Seal - Bright, inquisitive.

Dragonfly - Ever-changing life.

Frog - Known for bringing wealth.
Otter - A symbol of laughter, curiosity, grace, mischievousness and empathy.
Salmon - Instinct, persistence, and determination.
Owl - Symbolizes the souls of the departed.

Colors 

(meaning varies according to tribe)

White: Symbolizes the skies and the spacious heavens. Also purity, peace and death.

Red: Symbolizes blood, war or valor. Sometimes, it is used purely as it appears in nature.

Blue: Symbolizes oceans, rivers, lakes and the sky. It stands for sincerity and happiness.

Yellow: Symbolizes the sun, light and happiness.

Green: Represents the earth, the hills, trees, and mountains.

Purple: Used to represent mountains in the distance.

Black: Represents power.

Pole Types

Heraldic totems were carved with human or animal forms. They represented the clans standing, ancestry, rights and accomplishments.

House posts were located the center of longhouses to support the building. Similarly, some longhouses featured a house frontal pole, which would be located at the main entrance and often contained an opening for passage into the house.
Mortuary poles served as both a tomb and a headstone. They oftentimes contained the remains of the deceased in grave boxes at the top, Likewise, a memorial or commemorative pole was often created to honor an important deceased person. These poles carry a story of the deceased.
Legend Poles illustrate folklore or real life experiences.
Potlatch Poles commemorate a festival or event.
Shame poles were less common but served to ridicule neighboring tribes or those who have unpaid debts. Recently, they have been used as a form of protest against the loss of Aboriginal territory or for other political grievances.

#Paranormal Wednesday-The Attic

Photo courtesy of billnwmsu via Flickr

We have an attic. To most, this would be unremarkable. But to me...it's a distraction. Sometimes, I hear thumping up there when I'm alone and writing. I used to make the climb to investigate and see what it was. After doing this countless numbers of times, I stopped. There's nobody up there. Not a bird, not an animal...nothing. That I can see.

The attic was empty when we moved in, save for one writer's reference book. Ironic. Out of the three people who owned the house before us, none of them were writers. Maybe that's why it got left behind. Or maybe it was a house gift...from the Attic. I'm tempted to take my computer up there and write in the hopes the space will inspire something spooky. Or at least to show the Attic how much I appreciate it's thoughtfulness at leaving me a writer's reference book.

Why do people find attics so creepy? It's a convenient place where forgotten things are stored away. True, the space is usually dusted with cobwebs. And true, sometimes shadows lurk in the corners. That must be it. Attics are similar to basements. When I was a kid, one of the houses we lived in had a basement filled with shadows. I wasn't a fan. The fact that the house was haunted (the previous owner had passed away) made it all the more challenging. But, back to my attic...

If I thought the thumping up there was an animal or bird, I would go out of my way to make sure they could find a way out. But it's not. It's Nothing. Not in the sense that it doesn't matter, but in that I can do nothing about it. Does that make sense? Regardless, Nothing needs to keep it down up there because I'm trying to write.

Tangled Tuesday-Danse Macabre

I woke with this poem-song thingy written in my head.

It's a spooky little place in there sometimes. Even when I'm sleeping.

Dance of Death by Michael Wolgemut (1493)

Public Domain

Danse Macabre

Danse, danse! Join in the danse
Around and around it goes
Grasping hands, beating hearts
Daring you to let go.

Spinning 'round, catch a glimpse
Of One you’ve felt before
Cobweb'd breath, final farewell
Tracing along your pores.

Masques off, the Danse is done
Crossover the unknown

Slipping through stones, playing tag
With icy fingerbones.