Category: My Books

Total 15 Posts

Excerpt: Angels Among US

 

“Baxter, slow down this instant!” Kay pulled back on the leash as the yellow Lab led a mad pace toward the moonlit lake. Darkened trees circled the silver-hued waters. Bramble spikes nicked at Kay’s shins as she ran to maintain command of the Labrador retriever. 

With a sudden jolt, Baxter stopped, sniffed the ground around a row of hedges and emitted a mournful bark. “What’s wrong, boy?” Kay put her hand down to the ground and touched a sticky substance. She looked at it under the streetlight. “Blood?” 

“Who the hell are you?” a voice bellowed from the bushes. 

Kay felt the nape of hair on her neck bristle. She leaned down and grabbed the dog’s collar. “Let’s get out of here, Bax.” 

“What’s the hurry?” said a man as he stepped from out of the bushes. Slight of build with rough-hewn features and a shock of slick, black hair, the man moved toward her. “The party’s only begun!” 

Baxter growled and pulled on the leash yanking it from Kay’s slippery hold. In two seconds, the man lay sprawled on the ground with a ninety-pound dog on his chest. 

“Get him off o’ me! I’ll leave ya alone.” 

“Come here, Baxter,” Kay called the dog. He obeyed, but stood between her and the stranger. 

Blood glistened across the ridge of the man’s nose. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” the stranger said as he rubbed the blood with the back of his sleeve, “got this for grabbing this.” He held up a handbag. “It ain’t worth it anymore.” 

“Good for her,” Kay said, “Teach you to stop robbing women and scaring them to death.” She stepped further away. 

“Right. So you ain’t scared of this?” A silver flash cut the air as the man wielded a large knife toward Kay’s face. 

“Now throw down your jewelry… the gold watch and that thing on your neck.” 

Kay felt her turquoise-studded watch, pulled it from her wrist, and threw it down. “Here.” 

“And that too.” 

“No!” Kay touched the cross, an heirloom from her grandmother. 

“I guess I’ll have to take it.” 

Kay backed away and tumbled over a tree branch. 

Almost instantly the knife glinted dangerously above her. “Is it worth your life, lady?” 

As she choked on the rank smell of tobacco and stale wine, a gray mist descended on them, its intensity covering them and the stranger. The flutter of wind chimes tingled her ears. Kay sat up. Bewilderment replaced fear. Out of the mist came a man in a white suit surrounded by an aura of violet and gold. His soft features reddened with an intense fury as he turned from her to the thief. Anger lit the emerald of his eyes. Words bellowed like the force of a cyclone from his lips and the thief crunched down in fear and confusion. “Leave her be! Leave her and never come back!” 

The thief scrambled up and took off running as Kay’s astonishment faded. 

Baxter hid behind her knees as this interloper closed the gap between them. A smile crinkled the edges of his thin lips, and his palms flew up. “Peace. Be not afraid, Kay.” 

She stood immobile then backed away. “Who… who the devil are you?”

Hurt creased his brow and his glow dimmed a moment then resumed its bright appearance.

“Do not be ungrateful, Kay.”

“I’m getting out of here,” she said. “First the thief, now you! This must be a bizarre nightmare, one manifested like a Salvador Dali painting.” She turned to run, but a firm and gentle hand held her in place.“No, please listen to me, Kay.”

“Who are you?”

“Suffice it to say I have known you for a long time. And I know your gift did not protect you tonight.” He stared a moment at her neckline. “But this did.”

Kay fingered the cross as she stared up at her strange rescuer.

“A gift too, I see,” he continued.

“Gift?”

“Why is it you mortals forget what’s precious within, the precious gift God gave you? It is there, Kay. Yet you neglect it.”

“First a thief, now a lunatic! I should have listened to my brother and stayed out of the woods at night. What do you want?”

“I’m not here for material rewards.”

She stared hard at him. “You’re not getting that either, bud.”

He shook with laughter. “Oh, Kay, is that what you think? Here, come away, the danger’s not over. Hold my hand, let the dog go. He will follow.”

For some unknown reason, Kay allowed the being to take her hand. His touch felt like a feather yet carried strength beyond hers. She looked down at Baxter. “Follow me, boy,” she called, and then Kay’s feet lifted from the ground. “Oh, no!”

“Hold on, Kay!”

As they rose above the earth, Kay cringed. “Don’t worry, I won’t let go.”

Over the treetops and past the empty playground toward the opening to the park they flew while Baxter, a dot below, chased them through and out of the park. “Please,” Kay begged when they reached the outskirts, “please put me down!” In an instant her feet touched a soft patch of grass. “Whoa!” Her voice echoed the word several times until dizziness and her panting subsided. “Are you an alien?”

“No. Don’t go in the park so late.” He handed her a silver whistle on a black nylon cord. “Here, if you need me again.”

“A whistle? I can whistle for you?” She examined the tiny instrument with its indecipherable scrawl on one side. “Your name?” She looked up and the mist reappeared around the stranger and he vanished before her eyes. Only the dog stood beside her. Baxter nuzzled her hand, and she hooked the leash back on his collar. “Come on, boy, we won’t tell anyone about this.”

 

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Rediscovering the Inner Artist

My much more recent watercolor based on a photo.

I believe that children are born creative, but something happens as we get older. Sometimes we can rediscover the inner artist, writer, or musician if we allow ourselves to.

Pottery attempts at age 7.

As a child, I loved to draw, color, and create with my hands. My earliest memory is going to the Greenwich House Pottery School in Greenwich Village, New York, and I still have the little jar which much to my dismay, invariably became an ashtray for the adult smokers to use. I also made a paperweight shaped like a bird’s nest. I enjoyed doodling in the borders of my notebooks when I daydreamed in class, which often happened in Algebra classes. I took an elective art class in high school and had one of my ink drawings in a show. However, I lost touch with my artistic muse after high school as I pursued a liberal arts degree and went on to work in the business world and then in education where I taught language arts for over two decades.

It wasn’t until years later, that I found my artist muse again. Oddly enough, it came in the form of an adult school class at the local high school. My mentor Pat, a professional artist, told the class how to draw on the right side of the brain. I fell in love with art all over again after reading the book and taking Pat’s classes.  I took the drawing class, both beginner’s and intermediate, the pastel drawing class, and the watercolor classes. Then due to budget cuts, the adult classes were cancelled.

Fortunately for me, I continued searching for ways to do art. For instance, I took up stained glass, making window decorations, boxes, and other home decorative. It proved interesting but painful and sometimes dangerous as you handled harsh chemicals and hot soldering tools. In my writing the book Angels Among Us, my main character Kay Lassiter is a stained glass artist. I drew, literally and figuratively, upon my experiences. There is kind of a parallel between the characters I write about and my own life, but it’s not autobiographical by any means.

I also studied portraiture, although I needed more work in that area. I enjoy drawing, mainly still life and objects. Then I took an online watercolor class during the pandemic which led to an in-person watercolor class, from the same instructor, Karen who inspired me to keep pursuing my arts.

At the moment, I am taking a collage class at the art museum. It’s fun and different, and I get to experiment with all sorts of materials as I create something which appears unified or thematic. When I think about collage, I picture a hodgepodge of unrelated things glued or nailed together. How does that relate to story telling? I’m not completely sure, but I think that perhaps it has to do with the multitude of ideas that head my way, sometimes at once, sometimes at various times, but out there in the cosmos. Eventually, finding their way into some kinds of a story. Like life sometimes, there are so many events at various times on our journey, and they somehow fit into the puzzle which we can only make sense of later, while standing back and observing it all. As I am rediscovering my inner artist, I am rediscovering myself, and that’s an interesting journey.

Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards.

Winter Writing

Wintertime brought chilly weather, sleet, and snow to the Northeast. Huddling under a plaid throw blanket, sipping hot cider or cocoa, and reading made it less bleak. I listen to my favorite classical music station, WQXR, Sirius radio, or my collection of classic rock and pop songs from my CD library.

I’ve returned to my passion of writing and republished my two young adult novels featuring a ghost hunter at the Jersey Shore in A Kiss Out of Time and its sequel A Dance Out of Time, and a case of past lives returning to solve the crime of smuggling in Mexico in my adult paranormal Sacred Fires.

As the saying goes, there’s no time like the present to get things done. Being fully-retired helps too. After many years in education, I’m fortunate that I can now write more or less full-time. In the works are two more novels and a memoir. That should keep me busy into Spring!