Mother Isis


The other day a short piece popped into my head that just had to be written. The strange part is that it was in the first person and I normally write in the third person. As I looked at the piece I realized that it would fit incredibly well as a prologue to something I am currently working on. What do you think about a prologue in the first person with the rest of the book being in third person? As always, Happy Reading!

The sand finally settled and I saw the giant silhouette it front of me. It is the most beautiful and lifelike statue I have ever seen. Even in these murky depths I can see her kohl lined eyes glisten with life imploring me to break the eternal curse that was placed on her. If I close my eyes I can still feel her hands gently patting my unruly hair. She is my mother.

I haven’t had the pleasure of sitting at her side since she hid in the mortal world from Mars when the Philopater fell from grace. That was more than a millennia ago. Being part goddess makes me an immortal, someone who always hides from the world. There are a lot of us in this modern world. We all have tragic stories. Even my mother, the Goddess Isis. She was the mother to us all and the invading Romans sealed her great love in this underwater statue that I have for since the curse was applied.

I’m surprised I was able to get the close to her. The immortal children of Mars have blocked my path to my mother for almost eleven hundred years. That was when Mars found her and laid the Roman curse on her. They trapped my great mother Isis in this living withholding her love from the world. Roughly a hundred years ago a mystic roamed the dust bowl and he granted me an audience. The man told me where I could find earth’s salvation. I suppose this means that some mortals do have worth. Perhaps they can save their own civilization.

As I stare at my mother’s beautiful face I smile slightly as I make a solemn vow – I will break this curse and bring her love back to the world. For now though, I must protect her in this form.

I tug on the chain at my waist signaling the crew in the boat above to lower the cedar crate. I will take her home and surround her with the flowers she so loved when she freely roamed the earth. There is an obsidian throne and crown of lapis lazuli waiting for her pleasure. They were all I could save.

My grandchildren will search the earth for the cure to this curse. I vow that my blood will find the alchemists of today. From the ranks of the alchemist my blood will cull the most talented. Whether it be male or female, Master or Kleopatra they will break this curse or we will all suffer. This much is written in the stone at my mother’s feet.


Bye, Bye Writers Block


After a recent health issue that landed me in the hospital  for ten days (five of which were in ICU) I have found in difficult. A writing prompt was given to me this morning that broke the block. This was awesome. Now I do warn you all that it might be a tad bit depressing for some readers, but as always Happy reading. Warning I have never written anything like the following before.

The astringent smell of sterile antiseptic filled my nose as realization dawned on my face and I listed to myself, “We weren’t the same after he died. Life wasn’t.” I had been talking to this underweight waif for the last hour and it just hit me. From the oily, stringy hair to the dead brown eyes, and coke bottle glasses. The woman before me was literally a younger version of myself.

How this came to be I don’t know and the science behind it would probably give me a migraine, so I won’t bother to think on that. What matters is that I at least try to help the younger me – someone has to. It is a task I know won’t be easy, I remember well the stubborn hopelessness I felt at this age. I can tell by the barest glimmer of anger that the young me knows who I am as well.

“Most people aren’t the same after the loss of a loved one. Children and parents are often inseparable in their youth,” I told my younger self.

“Really? I’m giving myself psycho-babble?”

“It’s the career that helped to heal us. Quick, sudden, agonizing death followed by long, torturous, slow ones combined with a slow self-esteem really played with our head up until we were in our early twenties. That’s when we learned self-preservation. Turned out to be a skill we were good in.

“Once we learned we were important, we put the skill to good use.

“I must say though, having myself as a patient is a surprise.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t look at the name of the doctor on my chart when they admitted me.”

Did I really have that much of an attitude when I was in my early twenties? All I can truly remember is being exhausted and wanting all of the pain to end. Yet as this strange and familiar woman sits before me, I see more spunk and will to live than I have in trouble teenagers.

That’s when I have an idea. I sit in the chair next to the bed and I look at myself. I remember being that waif. Skeletal and done with the world. It’s time for some hope – in a way only I know how to deliver.

“I won’t sugar coat it. Your life isn’t going to be easy, but in the future you will meet two people that will make this crapshoot called life worth it. Don’t worry neither of them is a kid. First one will be your husband.

“Second one will come a little later after a case of food poisoning leaves you comatose for four days. Do you remember Sue from the truck stop?” I watch as this young me nods. “You meet another woman about that night. Her name’s Carla. Trust me when I say that you want to hear what she has to say. It’ll help with the first loss. That information will help you with the rest of the cemetery that is the family.”

I let the silence stretch in the room until I can see the barest glimpse of hope, “Do you promise?”

“I do. You should also know that we’ve never broken our word once given. For Christ’s sake, you’re twenty five, it’s not gonna be much longer before it’s easier,” I swear to the young me with all the passion that a harsh life has given to a renewed soul.

This time though I see hope shine a little brighter in once dead eyes, hope that I know is desperately needed or I may not see my future.

Mission accomplished.



Alright folks,

I know I haven’t written in a while but I had a major health scare and was hospitalized. Anyway I thought I would tell you that just before I went under I managed to get my seventh book published. Yay for me!! You can find Reincarnated Fate here

Here is the cover in case you don’t remember what it looks like. Remember this is published in what I call the Easy Read Format. My husband is dyslexic and it is easier for him to read in this format.

As Always, Happy Reading!!

Reincarnated Cover

This is the chosen cover for Reincarnated Fate.