TNB NEWSLETTER, VOLUME 7:We Speak Through Our Writing

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In This Issue—. . . . . . . What is Your Story?—Bethanie . . . . . . . Who are Your Characters?—Bethanie. . . . . . . Let’s Take on the World—Bethanie. . . . . . . Featured Author—T. A. Barron. . . . . . . Poetic Journeys—Rebecca . . . . . . . Poetry—Bethanie. . . . . . . Serial Novels—Michelle Cornwell-Jordan Rebecca Graf Bethanie Armstrong. . . . . . . Blog Hops. . . . . . . Upcoming Blog Hops

What is Your Story?

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Have you ever wondered, just wondered, if someone were to write your life’s story what would they choose to write about? We each have a story, maybe hundreds of stories in our own lives. When we write, whether it is fiction or nonfiction, we are telling our own story. If nothing else we are using experiences we either lived or wished we could live. The characters may be made up or based off someone we knew, but we are still telling our story. How?

Well, think about it. Did someone throw a computer at you and say “Here are my memoirs, notes and everything about my life, write a story about it.” No, everything is coming from your own mind, so it is your own story. The characters are ones you know, because you either created them in your own mind or created them based on people you have known at one time or another. The world is yours because you are the one that thought of it and brought it to life. Character names, character places, they all came from your mind. That is how it is always your story.

You know each place and its good things and bad things. You know whether the character is going to be good or evil or maybe both and they have to decide which they want to be. It is always exciting to enter your own world. As you write, it’s like life. You know it begins and ends, the happenings in the middle, though, can sometimes be surprising. Happy Writing!!!

~Bethanie

Who are Your Characters?

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When I write, I have the most fun creating my characters. I think my favorite character to write is the “bad guy”. There is just something satisfying about creating a character that you loathe and then when others read it they hate that character as much as you do. The “good guys” are the easiest to create for me.

I am a hopeless romantic. I love emotion and creating it. Making my readers cry at the sad parts, scream at the frustrating parts, feel the stinging emotions of broken hearts, and get butterflies in their stomach as the two star-crossed lovers finally have each other, admittedly is the hardest part of writing. To get just the right emotions flowing across the page to where the reader feels as if they are living it themselves takes much deep searching.

We have to ask ourselves how we would feel in that situation, put ourselves there, and live it over and over until we get the right reaction from ourselves. Once we get that very heart-rending emotion written down it often takes a moment for us to come back to reality and reset our minds to “this is a story”.

I have often found myself having to step away and regroup. When it causes that in the writer, I know it will cause that in the reader. If a book reaches me emotionally, good or bad, hate or love, wanting to jump in and strangle the guy that is such an idiot, then I know I have a good book in my hand. Happy Reading and Writing!!

~Bethanie

Let’s Take on the World

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I don’t actually mean we are going to take on the world, although depending on how amazing your story will be, it just might. However, the world I am talking about is the one you create. This is the place where your characters will live. The neat part about this is the imagination has no boundaries. Anything can happen in books. Your world might be the everyday world in which you set your story. It could be a parallel universe, which is very much

like ours, but amazing things can happen there. There are so many possibilities.

Take the paranormal. It is my favorite genre. I have written books where the main characters have the power to read the mind and communicate that way. I have written books that take a twist on fairytales, but with the children of known fairytale characters being the lead character. They have amazing magic powers and it is so much fun to come up with the names of these powers.

Ever wonder what actually happened to Aurora and Phillip in Sleeping Beauty? Did you know they had a daughter and a son? Well they do in my book, called Of Dawn and Darkness. I am having the most fun writing this book. There are so many twists in it. I even get twisted in the happenings of the story.

I have also written other lands unknown to those that live here. There is a magic curtain that keeps those places hidden, because if there wasn’t there is no telling what might happen. Happy Reading and Writing!!

~Bethanie

Featured Author—T. A. Barron

How excited was I when Mr. T. A. Barron agreed to an online interview with me??? I think I screamed when I received the email. I absolutely love his books. There is the Merlin Saga, Heartlight Series, and his new book, just released in October, Atlantis Rising. I also received from him an autographed copy of Atlantis Rising. I have never been so excited in my life. He is an amazing author and the worlds he creates are unbelievable. However, when I read his books, I am there taking a journey with Merlin and listening to his words of wisdom. So here it is. Enjoy the interview.

Dear Mr. Barron,

 

Thank you so much for agreeing to a few interview questions. You have no idea how excited I was to see the email you sent me. I thank you from the bottom of my heart that you are taking the time to answer these questions for me. Once I publish this interview I will send you the link.

 

Thank you,

Elizabeth Armstrong

 

QUESTIONS:

1)  What made you decide to write, or has it always been a part of who you are?

I have done many things—built a mountain cabin, studied at Oxford, run a growing business, started a family—but I have always written.

As a kid, I would sit outside under a big old apple tree and write poems, stories, and zany jokes. When I was in fifth grade, I liked to tell stories so much that I started my own little magazine, called The Idiot's Odyssey. (My most popular article was an imaginary exposé of what teachers really did when nobody was looking!) Even when I was president of a business, I often found myself getting up at 4 a.m. to write, composing during meetings, or scribbling in the back of a taxi.

Finally I had to make a choice, to do what I love best, because life is too short not to follow your passions. So here I am, still telling stories. But now I get to do it as my job. I feel very fortunate. Writing is the hardest, and most joyous, labor I know. And here is the bonus: It's also a great way to be fully alive, to soak in life in all its sensuous detail, wonder, mystery, and surprise.

 

2)  With all of your many national and international tours and book signings, how do you find the time to write?

Essentially, I write all the time, even when I'm traveling, going for a hike with my kids, sleeping, whatever. The creative process isn't limited to the hours I spend in my writing chair in the attic of our house—though that is still my favorite place to work. I love to sit up there with a steaming hot mug of cinnamon tea.

Writing is the hardest work I've ever done—as well as the most joyous work I've ever done. Which is why all the hard labor is worthwhile.

 

3)  What was your big break and how long did it take?

Some of my friends from my years at Oxford will remember when I wrote my first, utterly wacky novel – and gleefully accosted people on Longwall Street to read them the latest passage. That book, which I thought was my great American novel, I sent off to more than 30 publishers. Even before I’d finished the mailing, I could already imagine a life writing books in some wilderness cabin in Colorado. I guess you could say the book got a

terrific response: By the end of the year, I had received a grand total of 32 rejection letters. None of them were what you would call warm and cuddly.

It took me another 7 or 8 years, and the start of a business career, to work up the moxie to try again. That was the crucial moment, and I almost didn’t go for it. Right then, I had dinner with a good friend and wonderful writer, Madeleine L’Engle (author of A Wrinkle in Time). During the meal, I told her about my dilemma and called myself “a would-be author”. She looked me right in the eye and declared, “No, Tom. You already are an author. Just not a published one.” That was the nudge—more accurately, the kick in the pants—I needed. I finished the new book, even in the busy days of taking our company public, and sent it off. It was accepted by the first publisher. That was 20 years and 24 books ago. To this day, I am grateful to Madeleine for seeing into the heart of my hopes, and giving me the kick I needed.

 

4)  What is the draw of writing for younger readers?

I write stories I’d like to read myself!  So they really are for readers of any age … so long as they are young at heart.

 

5)  What advice would you give to those trying to break into the market?

The advice that I can offer is this:

1. Remember that you *are* a writer, even if you are not yet published. You have things to say—important things—and you deserve to find a voice of your own.

2. Writing is a craft, something one learns by doing. So there is no substitute for constant practice. (And that, unfortunately, requires constant discipline.) The bad news is, no matter how good you get at the craft of writing, there are always things you can learn to do better. And the good news is—exactly the same. That is why writing is a wonderful way to grow as a human being…even if it is also full of struggle and anguish at times.

3. Be honest. Deep soul-searching leads to more compelling writing.

4. Write through your passions. That energy will flow into your writing, breathe life into your words.

5. Now for some practical advice: Get yourself a literary agent. It's just too difficult to get published without one. How do you find one who is right for you? There are professional writers' organizations, such as the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators and the Mystery Writers' Guild, that could be helpful. Or you could track down whoever was the literary

agent for a published book you admire by contacting the editorial division of the publishing house. You may still wonder why you need an agent. Thanks to the increased availability of self-publishing, and also the ability to reach new readers through the internet, there are more alternatives than ever. But for the time being, at least, there is nothing that beats having a major publisher adopt your work and distribute it to book stores' shelves across the planet. And to accomplish that, a literary agent can be extremely helpful.

6. Finally: Don't give up. Remember that rejection is, unfortunately, part of the process. But if you persist, the chances are good that you will eventually succeed. Never forget that you have something valuable to say, and it's worth sharing!

Poetic JourneysBy Rebecca Graf

Delight and Wisdom in a Poem

In looking for delight and wisdom in a poem, I chose Emma Lazarus’ “The New Colossus” and Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”. Lazarus’ poem is one of patriotic pride as she describes the Statue of Liberty as a “might woman” and the “Mother of Exiles.” The delight comes from the words of peace as she “glows world-wide welcome” and we are able to go to has tired and poor.” The poem is a refreshing feeling of peace. The wisdom to be received from this poem is more a lesson of sacrifice. The nation sacrifices its individualism by welcoming others that are not wealthy or possess great resources. The nation will take anyone who is in need of a home and peace. Frost’s poem is one of delightful hope. It shows that any road is one full of revelation and delight. Yet there is one that will hold more hope and more delight if it is one that has been less taken. The wisdom can be found in being the one able to take that “one less traveled by” and knowing that by doing so you took your future and helped direct it down the path you wanted. Though one cannot dictate their future, by choosing a path that is unique one can help direct where the future lies. Adventure and discovery can be found where few have traveled. Delight is found by reading a poem and feeling good when done. Lazarus gave me a sense of pride. Frost gave me encouragement. Wisdom can be found by finding something to apply to one’s own life to make them better. Lazarus gave me a lesson on hospitality. Frost gave me a lesson on adventure and courage.

Works Cited:

Emma Lazarus, “The New Colossus”, The Academy of American Poets. Web. 27 December 2012.

Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken”, The Academy of American Poets. Web. 27 December 2012.

Poetry

THE HEART OF ONE

The heart of one has been shatteredThe heart of two on the mend

The heart of one has been called good,But the heart feels like it is condemned.

No actions were taken, no physical wrong.But the heart of one feels like a bird without song.

The silence forgiving and needed.The memories there and still strong.

The mission of his one angel was completed,But the heart of one angel lives on.

Then a voice known to all gave comfort,Because He heard the angel's heart cry.

My angel I knew this would be difficult,But I chose you because you are so strong.You completed your mission with brilliance,

But I knew you would all along.

I am not sorry I tested your limits,I am not sorry I tested your faith,

I knew you would not disappoint me,Because your love for others is so great.

Forgiveness my angel is granted,You asked and I have renewed.

The difference you hold is like diamonds,More valuable than silver and gold.

You think with your heart,Not many do.

Be prepared my dear angel,Special missions I have for just you.

You ask me why, I will answer.Each one of my angels has talents,

I have made them that wayJust like I have made you.

Your talent you have finally discovered.Your heart is endless, therefore your love too.

You only make more when it is needed,And the only angel that holds that talent is you.

© 2011 Bethanie Armstrong

Serial NovelsThe following novels are authors, Michelle Cornwell-Jordan’s, Rebecca Graf’s, and Bethanie Armstrong’s works in progress. They have given TNB Newsletter permission to use them. They are lightly edited so there will be mistakes. These are for your enjoyment purposes only, no critiquing or reviews are necessary. Happy Reading!

LEGEND OF THE ECLIPSE (New Adult) ©

SERIAL NOVEL

Michelle Cornwell-Jordan

Volume 1 –ALPHA

Part 3 Sanity is overrated

“Everyone thinks she’s crazier than the Hatter.” Reba bounced beside me as

we made our way through the winding paths of the campus; we had just left

the dining hall, and were on our way to visit one of the other Sanctuary

students. I was shocked to see how massive the campus proved to be. I

knew the school was gorgeous and Gothic, I could see that when I arrived at

the gates of the mountaintop school.

The layout was like any other Human school probably; within the main

building were all of the administrative offices and the majority of the

classrooms; with just a few resident students. But the rest of the campus

buildings had the castle vibe; each building sat situated at various parts of

the campus on what looked to be acres and acres that make up the

Sanctuary compound. Surrounding the campus was of the mountain forest.

The bigwigs who ran the Sanctuary, I was told when given the report on the

school; had the desire for the supernatural community to learn to blend in to

the human world; or at least learn to work with humans in a professional

sense. So etiquette and customs were taught regarding the mortal world.

The staff encouraged students to take as many classes during the day as

possible to become used to a more Human schedule. Well, as many of the

student population was encouraged as possible, there were some of the

paranormals that needed the cover of night for physical reasons. But the

school’s Science and Research facility worked tirelessly to produce products

that would allow these students to move into the daytime. I wasn’t so sure

that was a good idea actually. It would freak me out to see Vampires and

other creatures of the night moving around during the day. But if my

suspicions were correct, the nasties that crossed over from the portal rift…

would be worse than any of the rah rah students that walked this campus.

“Okay, here we are” Reba pointed at a residence house that was identical to

the others throughout the campus. It had the same aged stone as the main

castle with smaller turrets; with that strange, creepy air that I find

fascinating.

“Come on… she left the door unlock, she’s expecting us.” She said as she led

the way up the small path.

We walked up the small steps leading to the front door; once there, Reba

tried the door, it squeaked open. She glanced over her should with a huge

Cheshire cat grin.

“Come on this way”. She said. I followed Reba into the building and down a

small hallway. I heard various levels of music thumping behind the closed

doors that were lined up like soldiers down the semi dark hallway.

“What? No one believes in modern electricity, what’s with the gaslights?” I

glimpsed the pretty ornate fixtures with small bulbs that lined the hallway. A

golden glow barely warmed the shadowed corners.

The residence hall was designed with two levels; the room Reba finally

stopped outside of, was the very last room on the right of the first level hall.

She gave three quick knocks and we waited.

A few minutes later the door cracked opened, and one small brown iris with

golden specks peered through the opening at us. Then I heard a gasp and

the door swung opened fully. A pretty fae like creature stood in front of us

with wide eyes and a huge smile.

“Reba! I am so glad to see you, I had no idea you were even here.” The

smaller girl gave Reba a huge hug and then stood to the side as we walked

into the room.

Closing the door, she directed us to sit, pointing to several bean bags that

were scattered around the two twin beds that sat in the room. There were

two desks, and two closets…basically two sets of everything.

“My roommate is out somewhere becoming acclimated to college life…I

really think she doesn’t want to stay cooped up with the crazy girl…hi I’m

Dominique…”

She reached out her hand to shake mine. Dominique was shorter and smaller

than both Reba and me. She reminded me of a doll, her miniature features

perfect. Her honey brown skin smooth and was accentuated by her spiral

auburn curls and gray eyes that sparkled. She was dressed in jeans and a t-

shirt that said. Wolves do it better.

“Angel” I said shaking her hand, and then finding a bean bag to plop into. I

pointed at her shirt and said. “Do what?”

She laughed a light musical sound. “Everything!” Then she threw her arms

out wide falling into the middle of her bed. Reba snorted and sat in a bean

bag opposite of me.

Reba “Weird” she snorted.

I smiled slightly. “I thought you were perky?” I raised an eyebrow and

glanced at Reba, who chuckled slightly.

“Dominique lived not too far from me, her parents, her older sister Jade and

two brothers lived on a farm some miles down from me. We went to school

for years with each other. But when I got here and I didn’t see you listed with

the other freshman, I figured your parents changed your mind in letting you

come?” Reba tilted her head and studied the other girl; this was the stillest I

had ever seen my new friend.

I wanted to get on with asking the questions of Dominique to see whether

her experiences matched mine, I needed to find out what type of baddie we

were dealing with? Plus too much socialization grated on my nerves after

awhile.

“Reba says that a couple nights ago, something attacked you?” I tried to

slightly prod the conversation in the way I needed it to quickly go. I felt my

pulse race, and Kii began to awaken. The Kii is more in tune with me

naturally. I was born with ThunderKin blood, but after being overtaken with

the Ancient Beast Utenka, it brought darkness into my essence. So my Kii

could either be a positive or destructive agent. When I am in Kii form

because I am so new with my powers, it proved difficult to maintain

conscious control in that state. My Bennu was still a complete mystery to me,

but I knew it was all light. But both my animal forms were restless around

other supernaturals; especially when there were other predators.

“Dominique, do you mind my asking what your talent is?”

My Kii had become increasingly agitated; I felt as if my nerves were raw, and

were vibrating; I knew a predator was definitely nearby.

“No problem, I’m a Lycanthrope” She said sat up and raked her hands

through her luscious curls.

So that explained a little of why I was reacted the way I did; but with the help

of Rafael, and those back at Ame; not too long after my Kii had awaken, I

was taught how to must make nice with others. But Rafael and my mentor

both agreed my Kii appeared abnormally aggressive even in rest mode.

I had learned how to curb a little of the desire to stick my claws into others;

except when threatened. So I knew there was more getting my Kii hackles up

that this little Were Cub. I knew I needed to get out of there as quickly as

possible.

“So what happened?” The smile on the pretty perky face, dimmed slightly.

“I had been here only a couple days. I felt somewhat lost. Everyone had been

here for weeks, so classes had started and friendships were being forged… I

just felt a little lonely…”Dominique’s words drifted off.

Reba’s face fell and she leaned forward. “I wish I had known you were here,

we could have definitely hung out.”

Dominique smiled brightly once again. “I know Reba…I asked around for you,

but no one knew your name or if they did, they were not sure where I

could’ve you. It was crazy those first weeks. I must have sounded terrible

when calling home… I had members of my family wanting to return and be

with me. But I had to do this on my own.”

I could relate to Dominique’s story, hadn’t I also felt the stinging loneliness of

being away from all I loved, Jordan, Mr. M. the girls and Rafael? But I also

understood that driving need to stand without the security blanket of family

and friends. But yes, the loneliness could be crushing.

“Anyway, this was before they had assigned me a roommate. I remember

one night; I had decided to go to bed early. I had just finished my nightly run

through the woods, and my blood was singing and I just felt so alive! But

once I entered the room, it seemed as if all of that seeped from my body,

and thoughts of being so far from my family started playing in my head. And

these images of how I wasn’t a great a Lycan…that I was nothing…kept

coming in my head. Just thoughts of how my family watched out for me…but

they weren’t here…that I would fail…t-that kept coming in my mind….”

Dominique scooted back further on her bed, and leaned her head against the

pillows, as she tucked her feet underneath herself.

She continued. “So after all of that, I just decided to take a shower and go to

bed. When I was taking a shower, I heard this noise. It was a scratching.

Then it turned into loud thumping and banging. I was so scared, I shifted and

through my wolves’ eyes, I saw this…shadow. It looked like a Human, but

there was no light coming from it….eyes were red and mouth gaping as if

screaming in horror. I tried to attack it but it was not corporeal.”

She paused, and reached over to her side table to pick up what looked to be

water. She took a sip, then sat the glass back down and picked up where she

had left off.

“So I kept trying to attack, this thing…I guess I made all sorts of racket…but

no one came…it was like no one heard. It was right, I was all alone.”

She shrugged.

“Then what happened? Was that all?” I asked unnerved at how similar the

events that happened for both of us.

“Nothing else…there in the bathroom; it left, as far as I could tell. I shifted

back and then came back in here and got into bed. I had been asleep… or in

and out of sleep for about an hour. Then I suddenly woke up…it felt as if

something was sitting on my chest, choking me!”

Her voice cracked with emotion. Dominique appeared close to tears. “I-I

couldn’t get it off, it was too strong. It just kept pushing me further into my

pillow, then I felt as if a hand had been placed over my face and I couldn’t

breathe, and whatever happened to me, I could not shift…I was powerless…”

Tears, fat and wet trailed down her face. She grabbed some tissue out of a

box that sat on the bedside table. In between wiping her face, she finished

her story. “Then it just stopped, disappeared. I remembered gasping for air,

frantic and possibly out of my mind. Supernatural or no, we all can be

killed… I just remembered running screaming from my room! The dorm

mother found me and brought me back in here and remained with me, I told

her everything that happened. I-I wasn’t sure she believed me. The next day

my classes were scaled back and my parents were here. I was told that I

would need to be in counseling once a week; or I would have to return home.

In that short amount of time I went from unknown to the supernatural freak

afraid of ghosts!” She snorted. “Not even the Were Rats show me any

respect…”

Ouch, I knew that Were Rats were considered bottom feeders, the lowest of

the Kin society. Liars, thieves willing to sell out anyone for a quick buck… I

personally never looked down on any species but, the ones I’d met certainly

did not seem to have any admirable qualities. So if that was how she was

being treated, then my question was how was she still so perky?

“Well, for someone that is having such a life that…sucks right now you really

have a great attitude.” I said.

Finished with wiping her face, she balled the tissue and tossed it in the

nearest wastebasket that was situated between her side table and the bed.

“I have to, I noticed that…thing comes back whenever I’m sad, so I have to

walk around being annoyingly happy, to keep the monsters at bay. “

Reba sat up a little more. “How does that thing defeat another supernatural,

I mean…I can see a human, or maybe a prey species like me, but a

predator?”

Dominique appeared not to take offense. “I don’t know it just felt as if that

thing was inside me and it knew all my secrets, all my fears and then used it

against me…I-It was me, it was like I was fighting against me at one point. It

had all my strengths, knew everything I knew.”

“Plus…” I interjected. “Any evil that came through the rift, it is super

concentrated. Most of us here only use a portion of our true power; this thing

would be high octane!”

Dominique looked at me with her gray eyes watering. “Meaning what? We’re

all soft? Weak?”

That’s exactly what I mean.

The words surfaced unbidden in my brain. I did not actually believe that or at

least a very small smart believed it. But that thread of darkness that resided

in me. It looked upon this situation in disdain.

You are weak; crying mewling kittens…trying to live as Humans! Ha!

I am Human.

No more little warrior…no more…you are closer to the darkness that you are

willing to admit.

I tried to mute the sound of the oily specter that inserted itself in my brain at

times. “No, we’re not weak. We are Humane. The evil that is striving to find a

foothold in this world is not bothered by those restrictions. Life for

Supernaturals or Human means nothing. These entities will destroy whatever

gets in its way! They also have no survival qualms holding them back.”

“Kamikaze Demons?” Reba shivered.

“Not all Demons are this risk taking… but yeah, a lot of them from the pit,

which the cloak is opened to now.” I smiled slightly. “But don’t worry; we will

get to the bottom of this. You are protected.”

Just at the moment, Dominique’s bedroom door slammed opened and a

slightly older version of Dominique stalked in. “You’re right! She is protected.

By me!”

At that point my Kii roared to life.

© 2013 Michelle Cornwell-Jordan—Used by permission

LeighChapter 6

By Rebecca GrafAfter my fourth wine cooler last night, sleep was not hard to find in my empty bed.  Mark didn't help matters any by not coming home until late.  Several of the other nurses commented on my jumpiness 

the next day.  I attributed it to the weekly dinner with the in-laws.  In truth, the more thoughts about that dinner danced through my head, the more my insides twisted.  Twice I found myself throwing up in the bathroom. I was not sure I could make it through the rest of the day, much less that night.

Friday was one nerve-racking day.  At any point throughout the day, I expected to run into George.  Maybe I would run into him in the hallway, maybe it would be in a patient's room, maybe at the nurse's station.  How to handle seeing him again was beyond me.

When lunchtime rolled around my nerves tightened up and went into fright mode.  This might be a good time to get shopping done. The small mall nearby would be perfect to shop at.  Since I would be gone during lunch, this also meant I would avoid seeing George in the cafeteria.  It was the perfect excuse for me, and I really did need a few things.  Truthfully, what I needed could easily wait until after work, but why wait?  Like my grandmother used to say, there is no time like the present to get a job done!

I picked up my purse and told the women at the nurse’s station that I was going to shop for some table settings for that night’s dinner.  They all knew how desperate I was for an approval from Abigail and weren’t surprised when that desire was voiced.

“Fat chance of that happening,” Betty commented with a knowing smile. I paused and with deep sadness agreed.  Just thinking of the fact that it would never happen was enough to drag me further into depression.

“I know, but one can dream, can’t they?”  Slowly I turned toward the elevators, fighting back tears.

What a life.  I was in a job that left me emotionally and physically drained.  My husband barely knew of my existence anymore, my only friend made a pass at me, and my old friends had deserted me.  My in-laws saw me as a failed disgrace for their son.  My mother couldn’t find anything good in what I did. Maybe if I just stepped out in front of a speeding car, the world would be a happier place.

The walk to the mall two blocks away did absolutely nothing to cheer me up.  I tried to throw myself into the shopping, allow it to take my mind off of everything and cheer me up, but it took all of my energy to force myself into the stores.   The thought of buying anything was depressing.  Why bother to buy something that no one else except me would enjoy?

I managed to find some new napkins that would match my nicer tablecloth.   After those were purchased, I looked over at the travel agency across the way.  Just as a coin is drawn to a magnet, my feet headed straight to the entrance.  Without even giving it a second thought, I opened the door and walked inside.  Brochures were spread out in the display cases.  Pictures of Greece, Italy, and South America filled my eyes and awakened my desire to travel.  I had always wanted to travel, but we never had the money or the time.  Now we were not really a couple anymore.

It was like someone else was controlling my actions. What would I do with a trip? Mark's busy schedule would never allow for a trip, and there was no one else who would even consider going with me.  I just needed to get out of the shop.  As I turned to make my escape, a voice sounded from the other side of the room.

“May I help you?” an older lady that looked like somebody's grandma asked me.  Barely five feet tall with gray hair pulled into a bun, she was dressed in a smart suit with a modest string of pearls gracing her body.  Her face was full of peace and laughter.  The lines around her eyes crinkled up with the smile she bestowed upon me.  I don't know why, but something in her drew me.  I wanted to know more about this woman.

“I…. I was just shopping at another store and caught a glimpse of your display window.  Those pictures, they are beautiful.”  I nervously tried to explain my presence and at the same time find a way out.

The woman laughed.  “I just got through with those this morning.  When my pictures were delivered, I couldn’t wait to display them.  They never do the places justice though.  I am always so disappointed afterward when I compare them to what I saw with my own eyes.”

“You took those pictures?”

“Sure did. I love to travel and document what I see, maybe even discover something new.”

A sign escaped me. “I always wanted to travel the world. Being a nurse and mother does not seem to allow for that.”

“You might be surprised what the world has to offer.”  The woman walked forward and extended her hand. “My name is Gretel.  Why don’t you sit down for a spell? I was just about to make some tea. Would you like some?”

I shook the offered hand and found myself settling down in the chair. “Yes, I would. Thank you. I’m Leigh.”

“Nice to meet you, Leigh.” Gretel placed a delicate tea cup in front of me and took the seat on the other side of the elegant coffee table.  “Where would you go if you could travel?”

Slowly, I sipped my tea and contemplated the question.  The enticing flavors of vanilla and cinnamon, along with some other wonderful flavor, were delicious.  The exotic Mediterranean came to mind.  “Honestly?  Everywhere!  I have always wanted to see the world and experience it, but I have to settle for experiencing it through books and TV documentaries.  Maybe that is why a part of me wants to go back to school.”  I felt foolish letting that slip.  It was just a pipe dream of mine, and here I was letting a stranger in on it.  What was I thinking at the moment?  It seemed that too much of my focus was on the tea.

Gretel’s face beamed.  “That is great that you would want to do that!  Would your studies further your nursing career?” Gretel made a motion toward her nursing outfit.

I shook my head. “No. what I really want to do is teach. I have no idea what I would teach, or even where.  I just want to teach and expand minds.  Well, I do lean a little toward literature, but I’m a learner 

at heart I guess.”  Leigh laughed with a sense of irony. “Just another dream I have.”  Why was my mouth running off like this?  I really needed to shut up!

“Why just a dream?  Dreams can be good when they help direct us to fulfillment of our reality.”  Gretel was confused.  She lowered her tea cup and focused on me.

“It's just not feasible. I have a job and I need to just be satisfied with that.”

I jumped as Gretel replied, “Nonsense!  Who says that we should be satisfied with life?  When we become satisfied, we find ourselves six-feet under and pushing daisies.  I'm not seventy-five and still traveling the world because I was satisfied. No way would I allow that to happen!”

“You are seventy-five?”  I was amazed.  Gretel did not look older than her sixties. Her skin had some wrinkles, but her face seemed so young, so healthy.  Her figure was not hunched over or twisted.

Gretel laughed. “That is what everyone says.”

“I hope I can be like that when I am sixty.”

“Why hope?”  Gretel got serious and looked me right in the eye.  “Make it happen.  You have some degree of control over your own life.  Use it.  Don't let life run roughshod over you.  Show the world you have a heart that is beating.”

“That’s easy for you. My husband, children, parents, and everyone else pretty much have control. It is easier to just go along.”

Gretel reached forward and winked.  “Never let anyone, especially a man, have that much control over your life.  They need to remember that it was a woman who brought them into the world and a woman can just as easily take them out.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  Such images danced in my mind with that last statement.

“Have you considered getting your education while you traveled?” Gretel continued.

I shook my head again.  Was that even possible?

“There is a program that I've been trying to work out with a friend of mine who is on the board of one of the Ivy League schools.  I think that traveling the world is a great way to get one’s education while studying books and other ‘traditional’ methods of learning.  I've about got him ready to finalize the program, but the school is hesitant to put too much money into twenty students or so to do this if they're not sure it will work.”  Gretel pulled back and looked at me as though reading my heart.  She seemed to know everything I was feeling.  “The board would be more likely to agree to one student.”

Gretel calmly poured me more tea before saying any more.  “You could be that one student.” Gretel said it as calmly as if she was stating how sunny it was outside.

“How could I do that?” I laughed. “It requires more than I can give.”

“Nonsense!  It is a test program and all expenses would be paid.”  Gretel leaned forward.  “Think about going to Rome and studying ancient Roman history as you sat in the Coliseum.  Walk the streets of Paris and see what the great artists saw. This is an opportunity that others would kill for.”

I felt my heart racing.  It was like an angel had appeared and offered me all my life's dreams.  This couldn't be for real.  No one ever had their dreams handed to them for nothing!  Something had to be up.  There had to be a catch.  Life didn’t go this way.

Gretel must have been reading my mind.  “There is no catch, dear.  This has been a dream of mine that I have been working on for decades.  All of my travels have been used as a foundation for this.  I have my many degrees, I've done the traveling, and now I would like to give others a chance to do both at the same time.”

I sat in silence, not knowing what to say.  I wanted so badly to say yes and leave right then.  I also wanted to crawl under a rock and hide from the backlash that would ensue.  Was I never to achieve my own happiness?

Gretel patted my hand.  “How foolish of me! You need some time to think.  Not everyone makes decisions as quickly as I do.  Take the weekend and think about it. I’ll talk with my friend at the school and see if he is agreeable to this.”

I promised to think about it and after a few minutes of small talk, made my way back to the hospital.  The rest of the day was spent in a daze.  So many things were racing through my mind that I completely forgot about George.  With it all came depression at the knowledge that it was not to be.  Dreams are just dreams.  Reality is a different story.  I tried to push it all out of my mind as the preparations for the dreaded Friday night dinner were still ahead of me.

© 2013 Rebecca Graf—Used by permission

Chapter 7I ended up staying in bed the whole week and felt well enough to start

school the next. I was still tired though. Tucker took me under his wing too. He showed me where everything was. He introduced me to his friends, telling them that we had just moved from Kansas to come live with his family. I assumed he introduced Sierra as the same, because when she came to sit at lunch with us one of Tucker’s friends said, “And you’re the other one; are you two sisters?”

We both answered, “Yes.”

Some guy, named Brig, made a comment about us that made me and Sierra laugh and blush at the same time. Brig just assumed we were cousins of Tucker’s, but it was like that was what was supposed to happen. Tucker didn’t correct him. I didn’t understand why. I would try to remember to ask later. “Wow, Tucker, can I move in with you too. How did you end up with such cute cousins?”

Tucker proudly said, “Just luck of the draw, I suppose.” We blushed even more.

I really liked my new school. Sierra seemed to also. It was like our lives back in Kansas were non-existent. I still wondered though, how Mom was doing. I wondered if Dad even cared that we were all gone. He probably didn’t, but I didn’t dwell on that because I really was enjoying Nebraska and being with the Masters, even if I did come in the middle of the school year.

It was March, and Mama Ruth was about to turn over the camp applications to us—me, Sierra, Tucker and Jace—so we could start reading the essays and deciding who would get to come this summer. By the end of March, we had around one hundred applications to go through. We made three stacks: the no’s, the maybe’s, and the definitely’s. If there were thirty applications in the definite

stack, then the “no” stack would be turned down and the “maybe” stack would be filed in case some of the “definite” stack decided to cancel. They had to tell us in writing by May 1 whether they wished to come or not, acceptance letters were sent out on the tenth of April. That was my job. Jace had to print out the apology letters, but left some with an inkling of hope that someone else would cancel.

Once the acceptance letters were printed, we addressed them and mailed them along with the necessary forms. There were only three of the other letters that needed to be mailed. Still they would be disappointed and I felt bad about that. The no’s were ones who didn’t even bother to write an essay. Although they were given an option to do it or not, Mama Ruth explained that those are the ones that don’t really care and would not be good as team members since the camp is a team effort. “Most that really want to come will put forth the extra effort because they know it will increase their chances. That is the kind of campers we want, ones that will work to meet a goal.”

My shoulders slumped. “What about the three we had to say no to? I feel bad for them.”

“Just wait and see what happens. You will be surprised.”

I really was surprised, because two weeks later after everyone had time to get their letters. three declined. I was so excited. I ran to Mama Ruth.

“Mama Ruth, three campers declined. What do we do with these?”

“We file them as possibilities for next year and personally call the three that were declined because of numbers.”

I sounded like a child, but was so excited. The three that we had to decline were going to be able to come after all. “Please, can I call them?”

“Sure, honey. Go ahead.” Her smile made me feel there was something she knew about me that she wasn’t telling me. “I knew you would like it here, Cami. I am glad you came.” But there was something more to the look she gave me. I let it go because I was way too excited to think about it at that time.

I turned around. “What is the name of the camp, Mama Ruth?”

She laughed. “It is called The Masters’ Camp, and you are one of the girls’ counselors. If there are any boys in that stack, give those to Tucker or Jace. They are the boys’ counselors. It is their job to call them.”

The name of the camp had a warmth to it; I liked it. There was one boy in the stack. I called the two girls first. When I told them the news they were thrilled. There was almost desperation there. They reminded me very much of me, desperate to be away from my Dad.

Mama Ruth came to me. “Did you call?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“They need to come, don’t they?”

“Yes, Ma’am. They seemed really desperate, almost like me.”

Mama Ruth looked at me with her sincerest eyes. “That is why you are here, Cami. You were brought here for a reason.”

I nodded and smiled, but was tired of the riddles that seemed to be all anyone would say to me.

“You will understand when the time is right. Jace is waiting for the other application; he is in the horse stables. There is something for you there. Happy birthday.”

I had completely forgotten it was my birthday. We never celebrated anything like that back home. It just became another day. I didn’t know how Mama Ruth knew. I guessed Holden told her. I made my way down to the stables with the other application. Jace was standing there with his horse. It looked a little different colored, more of a honey color. I gasped as he walked toward me guiding her. It wasn’t his horse, Jasper, it was . . .

“Happy birthday, Cami. This is Shimmer. She is yours.”

I looked at him about as shocked as I could be, but not because of the horse, at least not all because of the horse, but because this was the same horse that was in my dream. She had the same name and the same coloring and everything about her was the same. I was a little overwhelmed needless to say.

He brought the horse to me. I hugged her and she immediately nuzzled my cheek.

“Jace, she is so beautiful. When did she get here? How did she get here?”

“Well, that was part my fault. I saw how Jasper took to you when you came here the first day and realized that was the kind of horse you needed.”

“The kind of horse I needed? Did I really need a horse? There are ten others in the stables.”

“Yes, but they already have owners. This is your horse, plain and simple. Mom and Dad wanted you to have one, so did Holden and Eli, and yes, even me. We all went in together to get her, so she’s from all of us.”

Shimmer nuzzled me again, and I hugged her as she blew in my hair. “Your family has done so much for me and my family, Jace; I don’t think I can ever repay you or them for the kindness.”

“We don’t expect repayment. According to Mom, you were a God-send. You and your family really have been God-sends—in more ways than one.”

Jace touched my face and kissed me on the forehead, still holding onto Shimmer’s reins. He pulled away quickly when he heard Papa Bo coming down the path to the stables.

Papa Bo walked in, smiling at me. “Happy Birthday, Cami, what do you think of her?” Jace held out the reins to me.

“I think she is the most beautiful horse I have ever seen.” I took the reins from Jace. “How can I ever thank you?”

“Just by saying thank you, and don’t forget Holden and Eli. I had to do some mighty strong bargaining with them, but we all wanted you to have her. Honey, I am glad you came to this farm, you and your brothers and sister. You all seem to like it here, and you darling bring a life to it all your own.”

I blushed. “We love it here, and thank you again for everything.”

“You are very welcome, Cami. Happy Birthday”

“Thank you, Papa Bo.”

He smiled at me and then looked to Jace. I had to remind myself why I was there. “Oh . . . Jace here is the other camper’s application. Mama Ruth said you needed to call him and let him know he can come.”

His sly smile stretched across his face. The wheels were turning in his mind. “Oh okay, I’ll call him from the stable phone.” I turned to walk back up to the house when what I really wanted to do was ride Shimmer. Jace stopped me from going.

“Cami, wait. Why don’t you go riding with me?” He looked at Papa Bo semi-pleading with him. Papa Bo gave him a stern look.

“I’ll give you until after lunch, but I expect you back out in the fields then. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. I will be.”

“Okay, be careful.” I wondered why Papa Bo seemed so vehement. He almost glared at Jace as he went back out in the fields.

“Cami, hang on. I’ll go get Jasper and get them saddled up. I know I took you around this place the day you came, but it is nothing compared to seeing it on horseback.”

Jace strapped the saddle on Shimmer and watched me as I mounted Shimmer. He looked almost disappointed as he shoulders slumped and he cocked his head to the side. “Did I do something wrong?”

Several shades of red came up in Jace’s face, as he looked down shaking his head, chuckling with an undertone of embarrassment. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was hoping you needed my help to get on your horse, but you didn’t.”

I laughed shyly. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“That’s okay, follow me.”

Jace mounted Jasper, and I followed him. As we rode, I caught up next to him. The horses walked side by side. Shimmer fit me perfectly. Not too wide for my legs, my arms could hug her neck perfectly. Her head was just the right size for me to lay mine up against. She seemed to like it when I did. It was like she had always been mine.

We rode down past the horse pasture and out to the camp. Jace was right. Walking around the place was nothing to seeing it on horseback. Being atop a horse allowed me to see many parts of the farm at once. The wind whistled past my ears almost melodic. The flowers danced as we swished by them, and I couldn't wait for the fruit to be ripe on the fruit trees. I could just reach up and pick it right off the branch. I could feel the freedom in Shimmer’s gait. I let go of her reigns, putting my arms out as though I could fly. The experience, magical.

We stopped at the lake and dismounted. The horses must have been thirsty as they walked into the lake and drank the water. The afternoon sun reflected so many colors on the lake. It was perfect.

“Pull you up some rocks, and we will let the horses rest for a minute.”

His words triggered my memory to the night before I fell ill. I reacted like someone had shot at me. It scared him. I remembered the dream I had about me being given a mission as an angel and the dream where I knew he had been taken away from something or someone, then the name Lily popped into my head.

He stared at me. Uncertainty shadowed his face. “Cami, what is it?”

It was like the question just took over my mind, and I blurted it out without thinking. “Why were you taken away?”

“What?”

The look on his face was somewhere between shock and amazement.

“Jace, why were you taken away?”

“Cami, what are you talking about?”

“Jace, I know you were taken away from something or someone. You broke some kind of rules.”

He was trying his best to pretend he didn’t know what I was talking about, picking up a single blade of grass at a time and tying it in several knots. I was angry. “Fine, I’ll just go ask Mama Ruth, if you won’t tell me.”

He grabbed my hand. “No.”

“What are you? Where am I? What place did me and my sister and brothers come to?”

“I will tell you as much as I am allowed. The rest you have to figure out for yourself.”

“We’re not really on a farm, are we?”

“Yes, you are. This is actually a farm that grows corn and soybeans and wheat. We really work hard in the fields. We tend the horses every day. We run a summer camp. This is a regular farm and ranch, the only difference is we have a summer camp.”

“Jace, what are you?”

“Mom and Dad’s twenty-year-old son.”

“Why did my brothers and sister and I end up here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why won’t you answer my questions?”

“I am answering your questions. Just might not be the way you want.”

“Why can’t you tell me anything?”

“I cannot sway your decision one way or the other.”

I sat down watching his every move hoping to get some kind of clue as to what he was talking about. “What decision am I going to have to make?”

“Whether to stay or whether to leave.”

“My final decision will have a huge impact on my life won’t it?”

Our conversation suddenly became something akin to a tennis match. I asked, he answered, never looking at me once. His eyes stared out over the lake.

“Yes, it will.” He pulled a piece of grass from the shore and started tying it in knots.

“What did you decide?” I already knew the answer to this, but I was hoping for something more. However I got the same monotonous tone in his answer.

“To stay.”

I tried to get something out of him to no avail. “What did you have to give up?”

“Not as much as you think.” His answers were driving me to point of insanity. I was so frustrated with him.

I sort of growled out my final response, knowing I would have to drop this conversation, because he either couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me what I wanted. “You’re not going to give me a direct answer are you?”

“No.”

I tried one last attempt. “Why not?” Jace never answered.

The glimmer in his eyes reminded me of tears, but it wasn’t. The truth was there. He pulled me up off the ground. There was something different to his touch as he brushed my face so gently, making all my frustration melt away. His lips parted, but closed once again as if he were about to say something. He did, but his eyes told me that was not what he started to say. He gave me a cryptic answer, instead. “Because you have to figure things out for yourself, just like everyone else has had too that has ever come here like you did.”

“Jace, why did those campers that we had to turn down at first get to come?”

“It happens that way every year. They needed this place more than the others.”

“This place is different, isn’t it?”

“You’ll have to figure that out by yourself too. Come on. I have to get back to the fields.”

“But your Dad gave you until after lunch.”

“I know, but from the conversation we just had it is time for me to get back out to the fields. I have told you more than I probably should have. I am sure you have a lot of questions that I can’t answer; besides . . . I’ll see you at lunch.”

We mounted our horses, but Jace didn’t get ahead of me. He stayed in a steady gait with me and Shimmer this time, right next me. There was so much he didn’t tell me, but told me. He didn’t deny being taken away, so I knew he had been. Whatever it was it had to do with a girl named Lily. I wasn’t sure, but I believed it happened a few years ago, like longer than a normal few years. It’s kind of hard to explain.

I wondered about my dream, being given an angel’s mission. I always thought that angels were people that had lived outstanding lives on earth, better than the average person, but passed on, and became angels when they reached heaven. If that was the case and that dream had any truth to it, then I was either dead or dying, but then so was the rest of my family. That thought gave me chills. My mind wondered a million different scenarios. Could angels be everyday people? Could they be those among us, put in our path at just the right moment, to turn our lives around? Maybe my idea about angels was all wrong.

© 2013 Bethanie Armstrong—Used by permission

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Creepy Crawly Blog Hop – January 20

      

Creepy Crawly Blog Hop January 20-31, 2014 There are so many great books out there that involve creepy crawly creatures. These can be fun. They can also be scarey.  Join a blog hop to help feature and promote books that involve a creepy crawlies.Blog Hop Rules:

Post Button on site after you sign up for the blog hop. Publish your post for the hop on January 20th.

Use the attached media kit as the foundation/template of your post

Choose one (1) to feature that has a prophecy in it that plays a part in the plot of the story as well as a suggested book in the media kit.

You can include your own giveaway in addition to the one on the media kit, but it has to be related to books.

Promote the blog hop.

And there’s more!!! For every blog that participates and gets their posts up on time, they are eligible for winning their own prize! What is it? We’ll let you know the closer we get to January.Are you ready to sign up? It’s never too early. Use the Linky List below and sign up for your site to be part of the blog hop. The more we have, the more fun we can all have with books. Creepy Crawly Blog Hop – pdfCreepy Crawly Blog Hop – Word 

This is a Blog Hop!

You are next... Click here to enterThis list will close in 3 days, 22 hrs, 32 min (1/19/2014 11:59 PM North America - Central Standard Time)

What is a blog hop?Get the code here...

Linky Tools  |  Linky Blog 2013

http://www.thenewsinbooks.com/an-affair-to-remember-blog-hop-february-2-12/

http://www.thenewsinbooks.com/wonderful-wedding-blog-hop-february-14-28/

http://www.thenewsinbooks.com/in-the-past-blog-hop-march-2-12/

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