Author Guest Blog at Author Delilah Devlin's Blog

I did a guest blog at Author Delilah Devlin's blog, about how secondary characters can become much more.  https://bit.ly/2uFXKGT

Supernatural Friday: Gothic Done Southern Style: Guest Blogger D. Alexander Ward

Today, I have as guest blogger D. Alexander Ward, whose latest book is Beneath Ash and Bone. He is blogging about Gothic done Southern style for Supernatural Friday. Welcome him and enjoy his post.

When someone uses the term “Gothic,” we all know what they’re talking about, right?

It conjures up a great many things that we have seen, watched, or read. Everything from the arches and gargoyles perched on the ledges of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris to the barren and windswept moors of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and the ubiquitous, Mary Shelley-esque manor house or castle, with candlelit windows, set against a sky cracked by lightning.

Born out of the Romanticism, these notions and images that represent the Gothic are very true to their European origins.

But like any American Southerner will tell you, “We don’t care how y’all do it _________.”

Now, usually we fill in that blank with the words “up North” but in this case I’m going to say “across the pond.”

The Gothic, as reimagined by Southern writers, has a long and complex history that I won’t attempt to address here. I don’t want to get into the whys and the wherefores of it, but let’s see if we can at least identify it and some of the places it has shown up. And, finally, I’ll share a little bit about how I infused my latest novel, Beneath Ash and Bone with it.

It’s impossible to address the Southern Gothic without talking about Flannery O’Connor. Her fiction—and some of the best Southern Gothic fiction, if you ask me—also often includes some of the finest examples of transgressive fiction, where we are concerned not with the “betters” of society and their lives but with the people that exist on the edges of polite society and who feel encumbered or restrained by its tenets. Early Cormac McCarthy novels, such as Outer Dark and Child of God are fine and classical examples of the Southern Gothic.

Quite simply, where the Gothic tradition as exported from Europe tended to shine a light on the lives and troubles of upper or upper-middle-class folks, the Southern Gothic often veers off to the side and focuses, instead, on those the European tradition would have only cast as bit characters. The help, the indigent, the poor, the damaged. The grotesque.

Flannery O’Conor once famously said (and it’s probably my favorite quote from her):

“Whenever I’m asked why Southern writers particularly have a penchant for writing about freaks, I say it is because we are still able to recognize one.”

So, yeah. We like the freaks. And we find something important there in the lives of those regular folks who walk around every day, not with their affairs in order, but their lives and their psyches messy and broken. It resonates with us because, deep down, we feel that we all have known that level of brokenness at one time or another. Maybe we even know it still.

But sometimes the freaks don’t take center stage.

Sometimes, in keeping with the origins, the Southern Gothic does concern itself with the plantation owner and his family or the politician—the upper-crust folks that were and are in power. Granted, it’s usually only to bring them down a peg by exposing their misdeeds, their family drama, or their most savage and basest tendencies. In my view, it’s done as a means to say to the powerful that they are human, too, and they are not immune from the scars and the demons that the rest of us poor souls must bear.

This is what I’ve always loved about the Gothic done Southern style. It’s a great equalizer. Fiction for the people by the people, you might even say! Because, quite frankly, stories where the powerful or the wealthy or the well-heeled are glorified and held aloft as something to which we should aspire, are dreadfully boring.

If you’re looking to dip your toes into Southern Gothic fiction for the first time, I recommend anything by Flannery O’Connor, although my personal favorite is Wiseblood. Along with that, I would recommend A Feast of Snakes by Harry Crews to get a look at just how weird and brutal it can really get. Pinckney Benedict is another writer, alive and working today, that stands tall as a purveyor of the Southern Gothic. And, lastly, an unequalled example that tends more toward the horrific would be the late Tom Piccirilli’s novel, A Choir of Ill Children.

In my own recent novel, Beneath Ash and Bone, I blended—as I often seem to—different elements and aesthetics of the Southern Gothic with the old European Gothic. I wanted a typical Gothic ghost story as might be written by someone like Susan Hill… but with a bit of Southern flavor. (Some great contemporary examples of this sort of thing that come to mind are Rhodi Hawk’s A Twisted Ladder and the film The Skeleton Key).

So, setting it in Virginia in 1860, before the unrest of the Civil War, at an influential local family’s estate, was my way of calling back to those great works by Edgar Allan Poe, Henry James, Bram Stoker, and the Bronte sisters. But I didn’t want to get bogged down in the often flowery prose of those earlier times, so I kept the writing more in my own style, which is contemporary and (sometimes) poetic, but always with an edge. I also wanted to employ a very distinctive aspect of Southern Gothic fiction, which is a sense of place. Not only to employ it but to give it more teeth than is customary. I wanted Evermore and the winter blizzard that had cut it off from contact with others to permeate every moment and to come across almost as antagonistic characters themselves.

You’ll have to be the judge about whether or not I succeeded in my efforts. In the end, I hope I crafted a riveting and entertaining tale with both the Gothic and the Southern Gothic as my inspiration.

As I wrap up here, I’d like to thank the generous Pamela K. Kinney for the opportunity to take over her blog for a day! Since you’re likely a reader of her blog, you already know what a fabulous author and a wealth of knowledge Pamela is on not only the subjects of writing and publishing and conventions but on paranormal phenomena and legends of local ghost stories and haunted houses (the kind of place I imagine my fictional Evermore has become in modern times). Keep doing what you do, Pamela!

D. Alexander Ward

www.dalexward.com

https://www.facebook.com/dalexward

https://twitter.com/DAlexWard

Beneath Ash & Bone Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/ashandbone/

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Beneath Ash and Bone Blurb:

Selburn, Virginia: A quiet backwater town nestled among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the days before the Civil War, Sam Lock keeps the peace as the town sheriff, like his father before him.

That peace is shattered during a raging winter storm when a boy goes missing at Evermore, the sprawling estate of Horace Crownhill and his family. Racing against time and the elements, Sam must mount a desperate search for the child—but what he finds in the snow, and the dark halls of Evermore, are madness ... and murder.

As Sam searches for truth in a house poisoned by mysteries and haunted by ghosts, he hopes to weather the storm, but the harrowing secrets he uncovers may prove too terrible to bear. Will he escape with his sanity intact or will the dark presence rumored to hold sway over Evermore claim him as another sacrifice?

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Excerpt from Beneath Ash and Bone:

Later, when he woke for a moment in the dim light of that fading candle, he made a vain attempt to crawl out of the dreams that enshrouded him like a grave. Before that could be accomplished, though, a familiar hand lighted on his shoulder and the sound of his father’s voice filled the room as the man stood by his bedside.  The moment was so familiar that Sam knew it must be a dream.

“Wake up and stand fast, boyo,” his father uttered in his thick brogue. “They’re comin’ around the back way and ye’d better have more than yer knob in yer hand when they arrive.”

“Da?” Sam groaned, bleary in the near darkness.

It had to be a dream for there was no other reason his father would be there, uttering those words again; words which echoed as small tortures in Sam’s mind. Words that were a bitter reminder of how Sam had failed him one hot summer night long ago and how the old man had paid for it with his life.

Still, when he sat up in the guest house bed, he saw the old man’s form lingering at the threshold of the small bedroom and he rose to follow him.

“Somethin’ goin’ on,” his father said, turning the corner, “and ye’d better see to it.”

As Sam put his first step forward on the achingly cold floor, he was suddenly aware that this was no dream. Something cold and wet mushed between his bare toes and he looked down to see what it was.

Snow.

Messy, irregular heaps of the stuff led away from his bed, out the door and around the corner. In the quiet of the guest house, he heard a rhythmic, wooden thumping.

He checked his side expecting to find an empty holster but felt the grip of his pistol there, drew it, and crept through the house to follow the path that his father had taken. His wits now about him, it wasn’t that he thought his Da was actually present in the room. It was just that his dream of the dead man and the moment of his waking had intersected with something very real.

Someone had left these tracks of snow on the floor and it wasn’t him.

Sam turned the corner from the bedroom and looked into the shadowed confines of the sitting room. He saw more lumps of snow staggered along the floor and the door to the guest house ajar, banging open and shut with the wind of the storm.

Then something else. The crunch of deep snow and a pressing against the house.

He froze, waiting, scanning the room.

As his gaze fell upon the wide window that looked out onto the wood, he saw a pale and deathly face looking in. The face of his father, returned to taunt his son. He recoiled and brandished his pistol.

“But I have it this time, Da! See?”

Then the face was gone and something in its movement uprooted the sheriff from his frozen fear. Indeed, it had been a spectral face that he had glimpsed in the window, but it hadn’t been his father’s. And it had moved away quickly, not with the slip of a spirit but the clumsy gait of a man.

Sam ran to the door and kicked it open, looking out onto the white landscape of the grounds. Something wild was tramping through the snow in the direction of the manor house, pale and gangly looking, its thin white hair flying behind it.

“Stop there, you,” he hollered out and gave chase, but before he could get far, the figure had disappeared into the shadows, incorporeal as the night itself.

The sheriff stood there, his heart pumping. On the far side of the main house, he saw an orange glow pulsating in the darkness. He barely sniffed the air before he smelled it; burning.

Something beyond the house was burning.

Author Bio:

D.Alexander Ward is an author and editor of horror and dark fiction. As a volunteer and Affiliate member of the Horror Writers Association he is an involved participant in the independent horror community.

In addition to Beneath Ash and Bone, he is the author of Blood Savages: A Blackguards Novel (Book 1), A Feast of Buzzards, and After the Fire & Other Tales.

As an editor, he co-edited the Lovecraftian horror anthologies, Shadows Over Main Street, Volumes 1 and 2 from Cutting Block Books and also, GUTTED: Beautiful Horror Stories from Crystal Lake Publishing.

Along with his family and the haints in the woods, he lives near the farm where he grew up in what used to be rural Virginia, where his love for the people, passions and folklore of the South was nurtured. There, he spends his nights penning tales of the dark, strange and fantastic.

He is active on social media and you can find out more on his website: www.dalexward.com

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Supernatural Friday: Horror Writer’s Paranormal Experience--Guest Blogger Bryan Nowak

Welcome horror author Bryan Nowak. He is my guest blogger for Supernatural Friday. He writes horror fiction, but today’s post is all about his own, real paranormal experience.

I write horror fiction, so it’s rare for me to recount a story like this. Today, I share with you a story I’ve never actually shared with anyone. At least, not in this format. I like monsters and serial killers who lurk in the shadows, which I alone control. People who know me understand that I’ve had some real paranormal experiences too.

I can’t remember specifically where I was when I first accepted the paranormal as real. But I can recount an event, or a series of events, in my life which communally served as a defining experience. It brought the spirit world into sharp focus, as real to me as the proverbial nose on my face.

I was in high school, and had just moved from my birth state of Illinois to Minnesota. We settled into a rental house on a road just outside of our little town. It was once part of a farm, but the only remnants of a farm were the horse corral and a small barn. The house was large, old, and full of character. The house had an older part and a newer section where the living room and kitchen were. The original house had an addition built for a new kitchen and living room, which jutted out conspicuously at the end of the property. It was one of those houses that, looking at it from the outside, you might reach the conclusion that if it didn’t have a ghost, it probably should.

From the moment I stepped inside, I felt an energy I’d never felt before. It spoke to me, not in a threatening way, but in a way which sought understanding. I can’t remember anything in my life having such a profound hold on me. The newer part of the house was nice enough, but it was the old part, particularly the end of the hallway, where I really felt a pull. I began a journey towards understanding my own God-given gift to feel and interpret various energies in my surroundings, both good and bad.

That hallway grabbed me, as if someone was standing down there, beckoning me to come down. It was dark, mysterious, and wonderfully old. Those first few weeks were reasonably quiet, but it didn’t take long for me to start waking to the sounds of people talking in the basement. It’s worth mentioning that the basement wasn’t actually finished, and no one ever went down there. I could never make out what they were saying, but it was two distinct female voices. I assumed it was my mother talking to someone, and I was hearing them through the heating ducts, so. I thought little of it, that is, until the night both my parents were out of town, and I was home alone. Then I knew something was genuinely not right.

Being a Highly Sensitive Person and experiencing the paranormal is actually pretty useful. Although I could hear the voices, I knew, based on my own feelings, that I had nothing to fear from these particular energies. Perhaps, most profoundly, it encouraged me to seek out more. I started reading about the paranormal. The school library provided some interesting materials, but the selections were limited. Back then, kids exhibiting these behaviors would be considered weird, almost insane, so I kept these feelings to myself. But my reading pointed me to the inescapable conclusion that we had a haunted house.

I started to experiment with my senses. Where did I feel the spirits were coming from? When did I feel them most strongly? What moods did I sense?

I realized that whatever I was feeling preferred to occupy a small section of the basement, as well as the stairs which led to the side of the house. I tried not to go down there too often because I felt like they were afraid of us. It seems odd to think in terms of ghosts being scared of the living, but it is, like the living, the fear of the unknown. We were a big unknown to them.

It was about this time that my mother accused me or my brother of turning the thermostat up in the house to eighty degrees. While physically possible, I had no idea what the thermostat looked like, or even where it was. It was only after it happened and with both my brother and I away from home that they came to the same conclusion I did, accepting the possibility that our rental house was haunted.

I always imagine the spirits must have decided they were tired of living in the basement, because they seemed to be branching out. Sometimes at night, or when we were in the newer part of the house, we would hear footsteps on the back stairs. No one had access to these stairs unless they were inside the house, and that door was always kept locked. Basically, by virtue of the house's layout, we could rule out anyone else making these noises.

There were other things that took place. The windows would open by themselves, and the interior doors would be found wide open when we knew they’d been closed. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle famously wrote, through Sherlock Holmes, “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” There was no denying it, we had ghosts.

Some people are afraid of what they don’t understand; this is basic human nature. But others can be thrilled and excited to study what they don’t comprehend. We chose to look at our resident specters not as evil, or a nuisance, but as people. We acknowledged them, even spoke to them when we felt they were near. At one point my mother rather pointedly told them to stop messing with the thermostat or they’d have to get jobs to pay the heating bill. Oddly enough, shortly after that little outburst, they left the thermostat alone. It seemed we’d brokered a peace deal with the dead which lasted until we moved.

I wanted to believe the spirits were real, but I was very skeptical. A small portion of me was reluctant to accept the overwhelming evidence. That was, until the night I had the opportunity to meet one of them. I’d just turned off the television and had nestled down in the bed to sleep. In the hallway I heard a pair of feet making their way toward my room. Rather than being unsettled by this, I remember having a feeling of peace. A kind of comfort, like being in the presence of an old friend or a loved one. I knew I had nothing to fear. It’s only possible to really explain it to another sensitive, but I could feel its intentions.

At the door, which was slightly open, I saw the shadowy figure of someone standing there. In my memory, I remember the door moving slightly, but that could be the product of my imagination, so many years later. I said to the shadow, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

The shadow lingered for a moment and then continued its walk down the hallway, the sounds of its footsteps disappearing as soon as it left the carpeted floor.  To this day, I have no idea what made me say what I said. I’m not sure I’ll ever know what made me say it. But it was my first real face-to-face encounter with the paranormal, and it left an impression on me.

I have used my sensitivity several times in my life. Once, while in the Army, I stayed in a haunted barracks building. I asked the staff if anyone had ever reported a haunting. They apologized immediately and said, “We’re so sorry, Sergeant, do you want a different room?”

“No, I’m good. I just wondered that’s all,” I replied. Why would I give up the chance to do a little impromptu paranormal investigation? They confirmed they'd had numerous reports from that building, but they begged me not to say anything because they were asked not to advertise it.

I’ve also used my senses at a friend’s house whose living room was occupied by a malevolent spirit who inhabited one corner of the room. He was an angry man, who apparently liked to hit people. But he never hurt anyone, or at least, not that I was aware of.

Eventually we moved from our house. I miss it, till this day. I did speak with an elderly neighbor who actually told me the names of the two spinster women who lived in, and loved, the house we rented. While we have no proof, I feel like it was them who were actually watching over us, and me as the child in the house.

Shortly after we moved out, while I was working at a local bakery, a woman came into the store. I knew everyone in town, so when someone new moved in, I could tell. She was the only person in the store at that moment, so we spent some time talking. She and her family had just rented and moved into a house. It didn’t take me long to find out they’d moved into our old haunted house. She looked at me kind of funny and said, “Hey, this is going to sound crazy, but my kids are saying they hear people talking in the basement.”

I laughed and said, “Oh, you met the spinster women.” I told her everything I knew and that I felt they had nothing to fear. I shared my belief that the two women loved the house, and wanted to spend the rest of eternity in it. Who were we, the living, to argue? “Just treat them like regular members of the family, and you’ll all get along swimmingly,” was my advice. I truly believe, sometimes even the dead want something very basic, for someone to just acknowledge they’re there.

Bryan Nowak

Member, Horror Writer's Association 

https://www.facebook.com/Bryanthewriter  

https://bryanthewriter.wordpress.com/ 

No Name's Book Blurb:

The soul of a rapist and murderer is resurrected thirty years after it was killed by the psychically gifted brother of one of his victims. The creature, calling itself ‘No Name’, wakes to resume its murdering ways. While its first instinct is find and kill the one who was responsible for its death, it becomes distracted by the sudden appearance of a teenage girl named Allie. She becomes its next obsession.

The psychically gifted boy, Dale, now an adult, is suddenly troubled by nightmares where the murderer turns out to be himself. Investigating the cause of his bad dreams he finds he can see through the creature’s eyes, feel its feelings, thoughts, and ideas. Dale knows what’s in its heart. Not wanting to be responsible for the loss of innocent lives, he vows to find the girl and save her life.

Allie escapes the beast with the help of her father and her uncle, Red. Her father, mortally wounded, encourages the two to run for their lives while he uses his last bit of life to buy them some needed time. Allie and Red escape the beast and almost run out of time when Dale suddenly finds them and convinces them to join him while they figure out a way to either defeat the creature or die in the process.

About Bryan Nowak:

Bryan Nowak (1973-Present) was born in the South suburb of Chicago. As a child he delighted in sneaking out of his room at night and watching horror movies and science fiction television shows. He also liked to read ghost stories to fill his time at school, and at home. He moved, with his mother and step-father, to a small suburb of Minneapolis, where he attended high school. In Minnesota he also attended Minnesota State University, Mankato. In 1996 he was married to his wife, Tanya, and they have three children.

His first book, No Name, is set in Virginia and centers around a paranormal link between a young boy and a creature he helped create. The story is a classic chase story in that the main protagonists (Dale, Allie, and Red) have to stay one step ahead of the beast or risk being killed by it. So far it has received very positive feedback.

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Supernatural Friday: The Cultural Dinosaur: Guest Blogger Joseph Erhardt

Welcome author Joseph Erhardt as my guest blogger for today’s Supernatural Friday. His collection of short stories was just released and is now available, and he is here to blog about dinosaurs.

Pamela K. Kinney’s Supernatural Friday column is, well, for the supernatural. But before we go there, I’d like to take just a few lines to talk about monsters that are, or at least were, Real.

          Dinosaurs.

Most of us remember our first exposure to dinosaurs. For many, dinosaurs arrived in our lives via the television or the movie theater. Whether Jurassic Park or The Valley of Gwangi—or even any of the Godzilla movies—these ancient behemoths brought forth a feeling of excitement, of awe. In a way, the dinosaurs were frightening without being that frightening.

For others, the first dinosaurs appeared in books off the school library’s shelves. I recall the first book about these creatures that I read, and how it began with the illustration of a dimetrodon, a synapsid that looked like a large lizard with a vertebral fin (probably for heat-exchange), but which was actually in the line that eventually led to mammals. Only later in this volume did it show brontosaurus (no apatosaurus at that time) and stegosaurus and tyrannosaurus rex.

For me, my first exposure to dinosaurs occurred in a bowl of cereal. Yup. Mom poured out a bowl of flakes, added milk, and set the bowl in front of me. Three spoonfuls later, I spotted a green leg among the flakes and said, “Mom! Mom! There’s an animal in my food!”

That’ll get your attention all right.

For the next several weeks, I ate only cereals that included, as premiums, small plastic models of various dinosauria.

So what is it about dinosaurs that makes them, well, likeable?

The dinos that walked on four legs and ate plants probably reminded us of elephants or rhinoceroses stretched out to sizes that made them even more stupendous and impressive. Because they didn’t eat meat, they were cuddly and good big friends to have, especially for a child so dependent on adults that having friends like brontosaurus or stegosaurus diminished that feeling of helplessness, of not being able to fend for yourself.

But the dinos that walked and ran on two legs—those fascinated because we, too, are bipedal. Our sense of awe here may be sparked by an innate, automatic anthropomorphication—these dinosaurs were, in a way, like us.

Today dinosaurs are still popular, especially as movie monsters, because they have a basis in fact, viz., they were the products of eons of natural selection. The ways they looked, acted and ate were that way because of evolutionary pressures. They were not artificial, ungainly monsters made up in some artist’s or writer’s fever dream. This gives dinosaurs a verisimilitude that other monsters simply do not have. These guys were our monsters. They existed, they lived on this planet, and they ruled it for millions of years longer than the arrogant genus Homo is likely to survive.

Heck, it took a whole asteroid and the subsequent volcanism of the Deccan Traps to knock these guys over. They deserve our respect. And awe.

--- 

Of course, one dinosaur did survive. And this scaly old curmudgeon has recently collected his tales of speculative fiction into a compendium known as The Dinosaur Chronicles. The foreword explains just how he survived, and who is responsible. The stories run the gamut from straight SF to fantasy to speculative mystery. About half have been published in paying print markets; most of the rest were just too long for the markets of their day. Included in the book are the following tales:

The Blue Smoke Test -- An over-the-top tale of a scientist who creates a time machine and precipitates the Ultimate Disaster.

The Men with the Power -- An aging, retired diplomat crashes a diplomatic soiree and uses his special talent against a dark-side version of himself.

Two Steps Forward -- A soldier with PTSD has his tormenting memories erased, which works. For a while.

Punkin' Vipers -- A Halloween tale of a man with car trouble and a field of corrupted orange orbs.

Evensong -- Of what use is a planet with a 20,000-year lifespan? And why would it be a locus for murder?

Open Frame -- Karma meets reincarnation in a bowling alley.

Eliza's Quick-Drying Polar White -- Crickets and an alternate dimension provide irony and amusement.

Who Mourns for Spring? -- An AA meeting ends with everyone really needing that drink.

Sheep in Wolf's Clothing -- A man infiltrates the annual meeting of the undead. Events do not unfold as expected.

Letter of the Law -- Sometimes being literal is being cruel.

The Practical Meek -- A man of the street exacts a painful vengeance for the death of this friend.

Edges of Memory -- A killer kills, and then forgets--utterly--that his victims ever existed. A nurse investigates and discovers a shocking secret.

Crawl Ice -- A couple is stranded in their Colorado cottage by an antagonized creature that they can't see, and it's getting bolder and smarter as the hours go by.

The Great Aribo -- Two boys at a county fair find the world's greatest juggler, who has a secret both wonderful and double-edged.

Excerpt from “Crawl Ice,” (Copyright 2015 Joseph M. Erhardt)

Evan Fisher lugged the suitcase down the walk, across a spray of ice and snow, and heaved it onto the opened tailgate of his neighbor’s pickup truck.

“That’s the last of it,” Fisher said, stuffing his gloved hands into his jacket pockets.

“Thanks, Evan,” Hank Stricker said, shoving the suitcase crosswise. He latched up the tailgate and added, “I just wish you’d get out of here along with the rest of us.”

Fisher looked back and watched as Hank’s wife locked the front door of their house. “Don’t see a need, Hank. I’ve got wood for the fireplace and enough gasoline to run the generator—when I need it—for two weeks. Power should be back by then.”

“There could be aftershocks,” Hank said. “Slides. If Mountain Electric can’t get their trucks to the lines—”

Fisher put his hand on his neighbor’s shoulder. “Hank, you worry too much.”

Snow crunched as Hank’s wife came alongside.

“Hank’s a worrier, all right,” she said, winking at her husband. “It keeps him out of trouble.”

Hank blushed but added, “So how’s Samantha feel about this?”

Fisher hesitated. “She’s not crazy about staying.” Then he grinned. “But I told her it would be romantic—just the two of us, all alone in town. Almost like pioneers.”

Hank’s wife laughed. “Evan, a weekend in a nice motel is romantic. Two weeks in a cold, dark valley in Colorado is a nightmare.”

—

Fisher watched Hank’s truck crawl up the winding north road. From time to time, the early-afternoon sun flashed across the tailgate, giving it one last lick before the truck finally disappeared into a cleft.

Fisher turned and trudged slowly up the block, to the rancher he shared with his wife. He wondered if the coming isolation would be a good thing or a bad thing for his marriage. Samantha had complained about being ignored, being neglected. For at least the next week, he figured, there would be no one else to “nore” or “glect.”

She should appreciate that.

As Fisher turned from the street into his walkway, he staggered as a sudden loss of traction threw him aside.

He righted himself and looked down.

A six-foot area of his front walk had iced over.

Ice in the middle of a Colorado November was no surprise. But he’d cleared the walk just that morning, and it had not gotten warm enough for any melt.

For a moment he contemplated the idea that Sam had poured water on the walk to spite him or—and his gut twinged at the thought—to deliberately injure him.

Sam might’ve changed her mind about staying, Fisher thought, but she’s not crazy.

Fisher walked to his door and let himself in.

The front door opened into the living room.

Sam’s voice carried out from the kitchen. “Evan?”

“Yes.”

“You sonofabitch!”

Fisher rushed into the kitchen. His wife sat in jacket and panties, her bare right leg elevated on the kitchen table. A bloody bandage and a bag of ice lay across her knee.

Sam spat out the words: “You said you cleared the walk!”

“I did!”

“My ass! There’s a patch of ice—”

“I know! I nearly fell on it myself!”

Sam’s voice dropped to a menace, and she bared her teeth.

“Do you really mean to get rid of me?”

“Dammit, Sam, it’s winter out there! You’ve got to watch for the hazards, always!”

“You said you cleared the walk!”

“And I did—this morning. I don’t know how the ice happened. It couldn’t have happened. It never got above freezing today!” Fisher took off his gloves and reached for her knee. “Does it hurt? A lot?”

Sam sliced her fingernails across the back of his hand. “Do. Not. Touch. Me!”

Joseph Erhardt’s Bio:

          Joseph Erhardt is a published short story author and professional editor/writing instructor. His short fiction has appeared in Keen SF!, Maelstrom Speculative Fiction, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine and Talebones, among others. He’s currently working on two novels and, along with Linda Lyons-Bailey, helped edit Robert E. Bailey’s final novel, Deja Noir, which is currently being marketed to the publishers. His editing services are described here: Joseph Erhardt’s GSC Editing. 

 You can buy The Cultural Dinosaur on Amazon KINDLE.

Supernatural Friday: A Light at the End-Guest Blogger Sonnet O’Dell

Welcome my guest blogger for today’s Supernatural Friday, Sonnet O’Dell, as she blogs about near death experiences. I also want to apologized for not having Part 2 of Risen Dead for Supernatural Friday last week, but Marscon had me hopping all week and this Friday, I had promised to Sonnet. I will have Part 2 next Friday. Now enjoy Sonnet’s post and do leave her a comment.

There have been many accounts of near death phenomena. People claiming to have seen a white light at the end of a tunnel, deceased loved ones telling them to go back or seeing their body from the perspective of floating above it. No one can dispute these accounts because of course there is no way to prove that isn’t exactly what happened. These accounts are as fascinating as they are frightening.

No one knows what happens. Is there something after this? An afterlife. The afterlife has been a major theme in most religions. In Egyptian mythology, the heart of the dead was weighed against a feather to determine whether or not their heart was heavy with regrets. In Greek mythology you have the souls of the dead ferried to the underworld by Charon, taken past the three headed Cerberus to be judged by Hades as to whether you would go to the Elysium fields or to Tartarus. Christian mythology though appears to be the vaguest on what will happen when you pass on. There are clear concepts of Heaven and Hell, seen often as grand frescos in churches, but no understanding of proceedings. Do you have to wait in line to be judged? Or do the dead float around about us but we just cannot see them.

This has been explored in various works of fiction. The film Beetlejuice depicts the afterlife as a civil service waiting room where the dead are assigned the living to haunt. The TV series Ghost Whisper dealt with the unfinished business of the dead and crossing them over through a golden light. The Lovely Bones depicts the dead as living in small personalized heavens looking down on the world watching life. Any way you look at it, theories are abound. Imagine if you could cross that boundary and return to tell everyone what it is really like – of course if you believe in reincarnation perhaps some of us already have.

Sonnet O'Dell

http://www.sonnetodell.com
http://sonnetodelldustypages.blogspot.com
@SonnetODell

The Morning AfterLife Blurb:

If remembering could bring about the end of everything, would you still try?

Karrin wakes up on the side of the road with selective memory loss; she knows her name and age but nothing more about herself. She walks the highway back to a town to find all but a few people have disappeared and that there are strange but beautiful beings hunting them down. It seems to her that some great apocalyptic event happened but she just doesn't remember it.

Karrin however is in more danger than she realizes as someone in her new group of friends is more deadly to her than those hunting them down. When she finds one of them, a young man roughly her own age named Gabe injured, she goes against all she's been told and helps him. Gabe in return wants to help her, help her to remember. Karrin's memories, however, could put her in even more danger and bring an end to everything she now holds dear.

The Morning AfterLife Excerpt:

A sound came from ahead of her, it echoed in the absence of her own footsteps as she had sat to rest for a while. Slowly she opened her eyes again, letting them flutter slowly as the light glanced off of the metal bus sign, till her eyes had adjusted to it once more. She looked across to the other corner and from around it came a man dressed in a white suit. She wasn’t sure at first that it was the same one she had seen until she saw that he was carrying a black umbrella. Had he followed her all the way into town? If that were true, how had he gotten ahead of her or even know she would come that way?

About Sonnet O’Dell:

Sonnet was born at the John Radcliffe in Oxford, England, and spent the first six years of her life living in the town of Abingdon close to both her grandparents and most of the rest of her family.

She moved after that to Cornwall for three years and then to Devon for another three before moving to where she has lived for the last fourteen or so years. Sonnet now lives in Worcester, Worcestershire, famous for Lea & Perrin’s Sauce and as the site for the last battle of the Civil War.

Sonnet has had a passion for the written word from a very young age and enjoys nothing more than to read a good book. The worlds created by words.

The Morning AfterLife  BUY Links:

Eternal Press - http://www.eternalpress.biz/book.php?isbn=9781615725687

Amazon - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Morning-Afterlife-Sonnet-ODell/dp/1615725695/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1421695057&sr=8-2&keywords=The+Morning+Afterlife

Barnes & Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-morning-afterlife-sonnet-odell/1107747934?ean=9781615725694

Guest Blogging at ColonialGhosts.com Today

I did a blog post for ColonialGhosts.com. You can read about why you should stay where the ghosts stay while visiting Williamsburg.  http://colonialghosts.com/stay-ghosts-stay-visiting-williamsburg-historic-triangle-area/

This blog is for a ghost tour company in Williamsburg, so check out the other posts not mine and their website and about the tour they do, too.

Read My Weregoats Deserve Equal Rights Too! (Strangely Funny II Anthology Book Tour) + giveaway at I Smell Sheep Today

My guest blog is up at I Smell Sheep! Leave a comment to be entered to win a $10 gift cert from Amazon. http://www.ismellsheep.com/2014/08/weregoats-deserve-equal-rights-too.html

 

I'm Guest Blogger at I Smell Sheep Reviews Friday, August 29th-Giveaway

I will be guest blogger for I Smell Sheep Reviews Friday, August 29th. Due to the release of my latest short story, "Weregoat" in the anthology, Strangely Funny II. I will be blogging about why weregoats should get equal rights like the rest of the shapeshifter world.  Leave a comment sometime during the day at the blog and be entered to win a $10 Amazon gift cert. The contest goes until midnight tomorrow. http://www.ismellsheep.com/

 

Supernatural Friday: Canadian author tackles thorny issue of UFOs & Alien Abduction

Please welcome my author guest, Martha Jette, as she blogs about tackling thorny issues of UFOs and alien abduction.

Who in their right mind would attempt to tackle the much-maligned issue of UFOs and aliens? The answer to that is that I had already written on just about every aspect of the paranormal, except that one because I knew that I would be viewed as somewhat of a flake. As well, as former magazine and newspaper editor, I just could not see myself entering into this murky field of study.

However, after researching this topic for several years, I realized that countless people including former military personnel, former NASA employees, airline pilots, former U.S. president and senators, various world leaders and even some renowned scientists had begun to come forward to tell what they knew about UFOs and aliens. There were also UFO sightings that occurred on almost a daily basis around the world. Were these people all crazy?

With many world governments releasing their secret files, and admitting that UFOs and aliens did indeed exist, it also became clear that the U.S. government had exerted strong-arm policies to deny this phenomenon at every turn. As long as this government refuses to give the public full disclosure, abductees will continue to be maligned and will not received the long overdue help that they deserve. This in itself compelled me to tell their stories in hopes of educating those who still believe that this phenomenon does not exist.

The evidence seemed overwhelming that UFOs and aliens were a part of our reality and have been at various intervals in human history evidenced by not only religious beliefs but also countless artifacts uncovered by archaeologists. Even so, I remained somewhat skeptical.

However, when I learned of a former Finnish doctor and military man whose life had been turned upside down due to the alien presence in his life, it peaked my interest. His story is a heartbreaking tale of alien intervention and abduction that pushed him to the edge of his sanity. Being a doctor, Usko Ahonhen was a rational man whose world revolved heavily around science and facts. When the aliens first entered his life and subjected him to mental, emotional and physical abuse, he could not rationalize these experiences in any way that made sense to him.

I then put the word out on the Internet that I was interested in hearing from other people who were affected by the alien presence and my inbox was flooded with emails from many other abductees, who either wanted or needed to share their experiences. As well, a select few were reluctant to have their stories made public out of fear that family members, friends, co-workers and others would subject them to ridicule.

And that is one of the issues that particularly bothered me. Not only were abductees already victimized by aliens but also by the public at large – a double whammy that no person would wish to suffer. However, the majority of people I interviewed were brave enough to risk the adverse reactions in favor of educating others about the stark reality of UFOs and aliens.

One thing that struck me while conducting my research was that the abductees I got to know were ordinary people living ordinary lives despite what was happening to them. These folks had wives/husbands, children and full-time jobs. Had I not known about the alien influence in their lives, I would have assumed they were perfectly normal and the fact of the matter is that in every other aspect of their lives, they truly are sensible and sane individuals.

I also learned that abductees displayed similar physical symptoms including everything from small scooped out areas, cuts, bruises and/or needle marks on the skin that fluoresce under UV light, nosebleeds, rashes, burns, and nasal, ear or eye pain, to sudden onset of medical problems, painful genitals in men and loss of a fetus in women to mention only a few. They also displayed similar irrational fears including the need to check and recheck that all doors and windows are locked at night, insomnia and fear of doctors’ examinations, fear of being watched and much more.

Another thing I learned is that in some cases, abductees undergo regression therapy in hopes of further understanding what happened to them. While some people were too afraid to learn the details of their abductions, the majority of those who did, as well as those who maintained total recall of their abductions subsequently suffered post-traumatic stress disorder.

One of the most astounding aspects uncovered is that in virtually every case, abductees also experienced a wide variety of paranormal events, which included everything from seeing ghosts and/or poltergeist activity to predictive dreams, speaking in tongues or other strange languages, psychic abilities, healing abilities or communing with nature.

Terror In The Night I: Alien Abduction Exposed! ! http://www.amazon.com/Terror-In-The-Night-Abduction-ebook/dp/B00GUR8MMK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1385488982&sr=8-1&keywords=Martha+Jette provides a long list of symptoms, including those exhibited by children because most people were first abducted when they were very young. The book also includes information on various alien species as reported by abductees and what each of them seems to want from us.

Along with the stories of 19 abductees, there are lots of photos of UFOs that they have taken over the years, many of which are truly astounding. Details are also provided on the mental and emotional impact of alien abduction as well as information on the various support systems available to help victims cope with their experiences.

Terror In The Night 1: Alien Abduction Exposed is currently available as an ebook on Amazon.com. However it should be noted that a more comprehensive version with larger photos and additional information will be available within the next couple of weeks as both an ebook and physical copy. Those wishing the updated version should look for the new cover through Create Space and its affiliates.

There are also plans in the works for a sequel entitled Terror in the Night II: End Game, which will go much deeper into government cover-ups, secret document, the alien agenda, conspiracies theories and more. Much of the groundwork has already been done and it is hoped that book two will be available in 2015.

Since writing Terror In The Night I, I also wrote two others about specific abductees and what they experienced. They are Phenomenal Paul: An Incredible True Tale of Insect-like Creatures & UFO Sightings http://www.amazon.com/Phenomenal-Paul-Incredible-Insect-like-Creatures-ebook/dp/B00FZ0785U/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1385486700&sr=8-3&keywords=Martha+Jette and The Borg Files – A Case of UFOs & Alien Abduction

http://www.amazon.com/The-Borg-Files-Alien-Abduction-ebook/dp/B00H8XU26O/ref=sr_1_9?ie=UTF8&qid=1386844835&sr=8-9&keywords=Martha+Jette

http://totallyscared.webs.com  

Previous books:

1. Playing With The Devil

http://www.amazon.com/Playing-With-Devil-Martha-Jette-ebook/dp/B00IBKYQ06/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1391966062&sr=8-1&keywords=Martha+Jette a novel based on a true story of child abuse.

2. Glimpses: True Stories of the Paranormal

3. Glimpses 2: (it could happen to you!)

4. Blood Vengeance: (Cold Case #4-183) (fiction)

5. The Man With The Magic Spectacles (teen fiction)

6. Talking To My Angel (children) http://www.talkingtomyangel.blogspot.com

7. Totally Scared: The Complete Book on Haunted Houses http://www.totallyscared.webs.com

Other Links:

Examiner column on the Paranormal http://www.examiner.com/x-35811-Hamilton-Paranormal-Examiner

Author Web Site: http://www.angelfire.com/planet/pwtd

MJ Book Reviews http://www.mjbookreviews.blogspot.com

Aging With Creativity http://www.agingwithcreativity.blogspot.com

Google Plus: https://plus.google.com/105846981608373220977/about?gpinv=AMIXal-RDCdf-4R-dlniQsjPwhG3ueJA9ZnYtd1pjlB-Eo1AgngWAMBnMqYTkfQXV8XWsweGmsbgjlB9y7JJSWYA5YtkD81XRiMN_yWpaDVrKL5K9BB5cPk&cfem=1

Ryze Business Networking http://www.ryze.com/go/teeka1234

Twitter http://www.twitter.com/teeka1234

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/martha.jette

Angel Editing Services: marthajette@yahoo.com

Senior Editor for Bangari Content Gallery http://bangaricontentgallery.com