New Release!!

Standard

What have I been up to you wonder?

How about this?

Over the last year I have been researching and writing a book based during the Salem Witch Trials. You all know how I am when I research. Historical accuracy was a must for my newest character, Grace, and her world – 17th century Salem Massachusetts. Just in time for Halloween, I know. Lol

The title of my latest work is Fall From Grace.

You’ve seen several rough chapters so far, but here is a full synopsis.

17th century Salem, Massachusetts is steeped in faith and the greatest sin you can be accused of is witchcraft.

During these dark times the only way to save your life is to confess. Unfortunately confessing to something she didn’t do is not in Grace Bacon’s nature. As she rots in the Suburbs of Hell, Grace is forced to endure the spite of her jailors and dehumanizing conditions. While there, Grace meets others that stand accused of the same heinous crimes.

Once she is pardoned of the accusations, Grace has to face banishment from all she knows. Can she learn to trust again while her body is weak and mind is tired – or will her faith be broken?

If you get a chance to check it out on Amazon, or any other online retailer (yes that includes kobo, barnes and noble, and mac readers) , let me know what you think.

Remember the physical book is printed in white I have dubbed the Easy Read Format for readers with dyslexia and other reading difficulties to enjoy. This also includes those with bad eyes.

What that means is that the physical book is printed in easy to read 12 point time news roman and double spaced!

As always,
Happy Reading!

Advertisements

Time For Another Rant

Standard

As most of you know, I keep my views on religion to myself. I respect your beliefs and ask the respect mine. The one thing I do ask is that you don’t shove your views down my throat and in return I will not shove my views down yours. Unfortunately, I read something that upset me and I had to respond. So I wrote another rant that I would like to share with you.

As always feel free to let me know what you think and happy reading!

Madame,

Do you realize that the religion you claim to follow is based on war, torture, lies, and identity theft? Adultery and repression are also hallmarks of said religion. As Heather McGinnis stated, check your facts.

Let us start with war, shall we? The death toll for wars fought in the name of Christianity is unimaginably high – some estimates range as high as nine million people. There were three crusades fought to reclaim Jerusalem – all were in the name of Christianity. Mind you all that power was in the hands of one mortal man.

Moving on to torture I present to you the Spanish Inquisition of 1480, instituted by Ferdinand II and Isabella I – King and Queen of Spain. Use a globe to locate Spain if you must. The Spanish Inquisition tortured people with branding, the pear, the rack, disfigurement, and water boarding. These are just a few. The number of victims is unknown.

Another time that Christianity committed an act of torture is known as the Salem Witch Trials. Nineteen men and women were hung because one man likened his struggles to that of Jesus. He thought they were against him and charges of witchcraft were levied. What those prisoners went through is considered to be crimes against humanity. If you don’t believe me, Google it.

As for lies, I’ll stick to lies by omission and there are more of those than I can list. All I have to say on that is a suggestion that you look up banned books of the bible. There are several and they are luminous, to say the least.

Identity theft is a fun one. Where do you think Christians get almost all of their holidays? The only way they could subjugate the locals of a religion was to give an acceptable meaning to their celebrations. By acceptable, I mean those that were tolerable to a Christian mindset. Halloween came from the Fall Harvest and the Christmas celebrations came from Saturnalia. All were ways to worship the old Gods for prosperity in the coming years.

For reference, the word Pagan is Roman in origin and was used to refer to the locals of a conquered region. It in no way meant ‘one who doesn’t believe in Christ’. Most of the regions conquered by the Romans were not as advanced as they were leading them to say that “Pagans were a backwards lot”.

Adultery and oppression were one and the same. The reason that women’s rights were stripped is because the church was afraid that the woman would take power away from them. The Borgia popes were notorious for having multiple affairs outside of their wives. Many times children were produced and they benefitted greatly from their father’s position. Yes, there was a time when priests were allowed to have wives as it was thought that they would relate more to their congregation.

The truth is that monotheism is a repressive culture that is designed to control the masses and incite violence. Look at how many people make vile comments and assumptions in the name of religion. If that doesn’t frighten you I don’t know what will, but far be it for me to ridicule you for your beliefs. If those are your honestly held views, then more power to you.
I would advise that the next time you choose to share them that you at least check your facts.

Fall From Grace – Chapter 7

Standard

After fixing my computer I have been on something of a roll with my writing. Between writing an honest to goodness ghost story and working on Fall From Grace, I haven’t been short of  ideas.The question I have for you all though, is will Grace stoutly stand against those that would do her harm.

Without further ado, I give you Fall From Grace – Chapter 7.

 

Cold, wet stone dug into Grace’s back as she let out a nauseous moan. Her stomach churned as the scent of stale urine and rank feces permeated her nose. Every muscle screamed in stiff agony as her senses slowly returned. She tried to raise a cold hand to her face only to find that her hands were restrained next to her head. Her butt was numb and water came halfway up her hips as she languished in the dark puddle on the ground. She squinted as she tried to look up, only to find that her head could not rise more than half an inch. On one side of her Grace felt the rough stone cutting into cold skin; and the other a warm presence.

“Careful Miss Grace. The priest didn’t like what you told them and had you locked in the pillory,” Tituba thickly whispered. The swelling Grace had last seen was gone, though she was still covered with fading bruises.

“To be punished for avowing innocence is a crime frowned upon by God,” Grace whispered hoarsely through cracked lips.

“I fear our captors have little belief in innocence; and I don’t think they have the respect for God they should,” Tituba replied.

“Where are the others?”

“Mrs. Good and Mrs. Osbourne have been taken to the interrogators over at Ingersoll’s Tavern. That was early this morning, Miss. It’s nearing supper time now, I’ve not heard a souls whisper in hours so I’m not thinking supper’s gonna be arriving anytime soon.

“More have been accused since they questioned you,” Tituba fearfully blurted out.

“Who?”

“At least half a dozen in the last four days, Miss Grace. The affliction’s spreading and they say other children are doing the accusing now.”

“None in the community would dare turn their backs to God,” Grace insisted from her bowed position. The silence of the empty cell echoed around her voice.

“That’s not the rumors that are going around Miss Grace. People are saying it’s been awfully cold of late and that God was sending the cold as a way to punish sinners; rumor has it even the pastor thinks God is punishing him,” Tituba plaintively whispered.

“Hush now Tituba. There are always those who wish to call trouble upon others. As for our current situation we can only hope that mortal man can see what God clearly knows,” Grace tiredly informed as her chin hit the board.

“What if that’s not enough,” Tituba worried.

The only answer that Tituba received were the watery breaths that escaped Grace’s now bruised and sleeping form.

 

***

 

Grace jumped awake as a sharp sting struck her foot and thunder rumbled outside. The pillory didn’t allow her to raise her head as another sting raced through her foot. The sturdy leather shoes on her feet were not enough to numb yet another sting.

A flash of lightning silhouetted the narrow legs of a man in dark breeches his white stockings gave the man a supernatural appearance in the eery light. This time the sharp snap of a whip accompanied the sting on her feet. A quick glance around told Grace she was alone in the cell.

“Ow,” Grace whimpered as another lash struck her feet.

“Who else signed the Devil’s Book,” the male voice harshly snarled.
Though she could not raise her head Grace refused to sit there in shame. She may have been forced into the pillory, but the reason behind it was no fault of hers. She squared her shoulders as best she could before answering with a bowed head, “I, nor anyone else, have signed NO book.”

The darkened figure seemed to erupt in rage as he swung the whip once more. This time the leather cut into the soles of her sturdy shoes. Grace flinched in her seat and knocked her head against the pillory as fresh pain racked her foot.
A rolling crack of thunder covered Grace’s whimpers of pain.

“Name your conspirators,” he commanded.

A tear fell down Grace’s mud caked face as she gasped for air. As she was about to respond her mud encrusted face turned as pale as the moon. With no other warning, she spewed the bile in her stomach all over her urine soaked skirt.

As the bile was dripping from her mouth Grace spat, “The only crime being committed here is the disgrace that you are showing to women.”

“You lost any protections that your sex demands when you signed the Devil’s Book,” the man coldly informed.

“I signed no such book,” Grace stubbornly insisted.

Even though it was dark in the cell Grace could tell the man was shaking in rage. “Your protestations of innocence will do you no good. The children have seen you,” the man snarled as he cracked his whip once more.

This time, the man didn’t give Grace a chance to claim innocence. He continued to snap his whip delivering lancing sting after cutting lash to the bottom of her feet. Grace’s wails of pain were drowned in the downpour of rain outside her cell.

Fall From Grace – Chapter 3

Standard

As many of you here know, I have been working on Fall From Grace. So far the word count is 13,217 – not too bad a start I think.

Fall From Grace is the story of Grace Bacon. Grace is a bakers daughter in Salem Towne, Massachussettes, 1692. Grace has been accused of Witchcraft, a crime akin to treason in the Puritan way of life. How will she survive the atrocious conditions in the Dungeon and Jail? More importantly will she hang because of these unthinkable accusations?

Without further ado, I give you the rough form of Chapter 3 in Fall From Grace.

Happy Reading!

The next morning dawned cold and damp for the unfortunate women in the cell. The floor was nothing more than ice encrusted mud and the three had huddled together for warmth throughout the frozen night. Ratty hair and near blue lips were the only features that distinguished themselves in the pale morning light. The vapor from their breath provided a hazy halo that highlighted their miserable state.

 
The hems of their dresses were caked in mud and Graces’ left cheek was dark purple and swollen. All three women sat with their backs to the stone wall while water began to seep onto the floor. They huddled on the floor shivering until the sheriff brazenly walked to the cell.

 
“On your feet, all of you,” he brusquely demanded.

 
The three women swayed and bumped into each other as they struggled to their numb feet. The rattling of metal against metal screeched in the air as their bound legs moved together. The sneering face of the sheriff looked as though he were smelling cow manure as he gazed upon the miserable women.

 
Mrs. Good sneered back at the sheriff while Mrs. Osbourne looked on him with pity, while she placed a frozen hand on Graces’ back. Grace flinched at the harsh tone. When the women steadied themselves, a door at the end of the hall opened and the women could see a huddled figure between two men.

 
The two men drug the huddled figure towards the cell where the other prisoners stood. From where they stood the women could hear the huddled figure whimpering. When the three newcomers approached the cell, even though the huddled figures face was hidden from view, Grace recognized the caramel colored skin of Tituba. The two guards stopped outside of the cell and waited for the sheriff to open the iron door.

 
Slowly the rusty hinges creaked and the door swung open. The sheriff held the door as the guards shoved Tituba into the cell with the others. One guard held Tituba up and the other knelt down to shackle her to the other prisoners. Once the guards stepped out of the cell the sheriff locked the door securely behind them.

 
Four cold, sore women now stood looking out from the bars of a cell. The breath that escaped their mouth provided a hazy cloud that obscured their features from the jailors.
As the sheriff was walking away from the near broken women he informed, “Your Investigators will be here in the next few days. Until then, in here you’ll stay. With luck your dark master will take you off our godly hands.” The malice in his voice made all four women shudder.

 
The echoing of the footsteps faded as a heavy wooden door closed leaving the women alone once more. While they were still standing Grace looked over at Tituba and exclaimed, “Tituba! What happened?”

 
Tituba raised her head revealing swollen cheeks and cracked lips. As she struggled to blink, bloody tears escaped bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry Miss Grace. Master Parris beat me until I blacked out. I’m sorry Miss Grace,” Tituba desperately sobbed as she sank to the floor.

 
That collapsing act saw Tituba pull the others down with her. “Harrumph. May as well get settled so we can find the extent of our troubles,” Mrs. Good muttered darkly.

 
“Oh hush, Mrs. Good. God knows we’re in enough trouble as it is. Your bitterness isn’t needed for our morning libations,” Mrs. Osbourne chastised.

 
“He knows we’re in trouble, maybe he can do something about it,” Mrs. Good sniped back.
“Ladies, please! We have trouble aplenty and at the moment bickering isn’t helping anyone. Tituba isn’t well, perhaps we should be concentrate on her at the moment,” Grace suggested from her place on the floor.

 
Mrs. Good grumbled under her breath while Mrs. Osbourne bowed her head at the admonishment.

 
Grace carefully reached across Mrs. Good to grab Tituba’s trembling hand. “It’ll be alright Tituba. God will see us through this,” Grace weakly assured the bruised woman.

 
“I’m sorry Miss Grace. You were the only one I could think of,” Tituba moaned pitifully.

 

“What do you mean Tituba,” Grace gently implored.

 
“Miss Betty and Miss Abigail were awfully sick, Miss Grace. The healers tried everything and so did Mr. Parris. Mistress Elizabeth prayed as hard as she could.

 
“Finally Mr. Parris sent for another priest to look at the girls. He said the girls were bewitched. You were always so kind to me at the store.

 
“I thought they would ask you if I was witch, Miss Grace. I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble,” Tituba desperately explained.

 
“Why would he think the girls are bewitched,” Grace asked quizzically.

 
“That’s what the girls said,” Tituba quietly whispered.

 
“Mr. Parris is a man of God! Surely he wouldn’t believe such nonsense,” Grace insisted.

 

“I’m sorry Miss Grace, I only thought you would be able to help. When the priest said the children were bewitched Mr. Parris became enraged. He kept insisting I bewitched them.

 

“I desperately pleaded with him that I didn’t do it. I kept saying I was innocent and the more I insisted the madder Mr. Parris became. He started beating me.

 
“I know I blacked out a couple times Miss Grace. I said anything to get him to stop! I’m sorry Miss Grace!

 
“I swear to you and God though Miss Grace, I didn’t hurt those girls,” Tituba wailed through her cracked lips.

 
“Hush now, Tituba. God will help us through this nightmare,” Grace quietly assured.

 

Memories and Betrayal

Standard

 

 

As betrayal breaks your heart, remember that each tear you shed cleanses your soul. Eventually your tears will turn from bitter betrayal to tracks of gold as you shine ever brighter from your darkest, sulfur filled hell. Those tracks of gold turn into a bridge so that you can walk over the pain to a better future. One day you’ll look back and see that you golden is surrounded by a rainbow of memories.

Daughter of Alchemy

Standard

Hi all,

I finally finished it! Daughter of Alchemy is live and ready for you to enjoy. This title (like all others) is printed with double spacing for the paper back so that people with reading disabilities can enjoy the expierence of Iseult’s world. I invite you to click on the link Daughter of Alchemy to experience the trauma and drama of Iseult’s world for yourself.

Remember to feed an author with a review. Further down this post is a little clue as to what is contained within the covers.

As always Happy Reading!

“He’s yours to do with as you please,” the cold voice invited to the snarls that began to sound.

“You won’t get away with this Bricius Aeilius! The Council will stop you,” Patrik screamed as an iron door swung open.

“The Council is mine, just as you were for all those years. And in due course the power of this world will be mine, “Bricius icily informed as he pulled the door closed with a heavy clang.

The snarling intensified as the werecats closed in on the cell. Patrik looked around the cell as the animals approached and shook his head. “I had my freedom Aeilius. You just didn’t know it. The rest of my powers are not yours for the taking.

“If anyone on the council breaks this pendant, know that iron will cage the beast for eternity.”

Patrik then clutched the amulet on his neck. When the iron bars of his cell opened to admit the snarling cats Patrik firmly shouted, “Ignis!”

Fire encased the cell and the whining of wounded and dying cats sounded throughout the memory. The memory was so vivid that the stench of burning flesh filled the projection room as the memory went dark and the room returned to its normal luminescence.

Let the Season Begin

Standard

“Dashing through the snow” We all know the words to the populat carol. Many of us have fond memories and traditions for this time of year. Jack Frost has forgotten this.

Over the years he has become a bitter being who has forgotten why he celebrates the season. For us mortals, that bitterness can have devastating effects.

Giving a young Jack Frost the chance to remember is the premise behind a new holiday classic, Spirit of Winter.

Spirit of Winter Cover_FRONT

To give you a better idea here is a bit more of an idea for you to ponder.

The entrapment of his sister’s spirit has caused Jack Frost to forget what it means to play; thus causing bitterly cold winters.

Santa Claus, Mother Nature, and Father Time conspire to show Jack the meaning of winter once more. To accomplish this they turn him, and by extension themselves, into children. Will learning to play again bring Noelle Frost back?

Will Jack remember his sister’s spirit or will winter become frigid and inhospitable for the rest of time?

Keep in mind that the paper back form of Spirit of Winter is printed in the double spaced format so that people with reading disabilities may enjoy the story as well. This includes dyslexia.

As always,

HAPPY READING!!

#StoryofJackFrost