I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
Author B. Johny shares the transformative journey he undertook during his 8-week trip across India in the book “The Candid Odyssey: Exploring India and the Philosophy of LIfe”.
The Synopsis
The Candid Odyssey is a captivating travel memoir and philosophical journey into self-discovery. Join the author on a transformative eight-week solo trip across India, where he explores diverse landscapes and vibrant cultures while delving into life’s deeper questions about happiness, purpose, and meaning. This unique blend of travel, philosophy, and self-help offers readers a special invitation to journey through both the outer world and the inner self.
Over the course of this adventure, the author traverses more than 50 cities and locations, capturing the essence of India through its tranquil landscapes, historic sites, bustling urban centers, majestic mountains, and more. Memorable and unexpected experiences—including chance encounters at festivals, challenging situations, and being stranded in deserts and foggy hills—add depth and richness to the narrative. With a conversational tone that fosters a personal connection, each chapter is filled with engaging, relatable, and authentic reflections on life.
Whether you’re a travel enthusiast, a philosophy lover, or someone seeking personal growth, The Candid Odyssey encourages you to reflect on your own perspectives and experiences. This memoir is more than a travel record; it’s an authentic journey of self-discovery that inspires readers to explore their own paths and pursue a life of meaning.
The Review
Immediately, I found myself enthralled with this book. The author did an excellent job of finding the perfect balance between the travel narrative and the journey’s more personal, philosophical, and insightful aspects. The honesty and depth of detail the author conveyed in such a short read were terrific to see come to life.
The author’s narrative choice was the biggest thing that set the book apart from other travel or philosophy books. Thanks to a journal-writing style, the author allowed the reader to experience the journey as he did. The approach to each location was unique, too, for the author could hone in on the spiritual and philosophical side of things rather than the surface touristy stuff that so many others see every day.
The Verdict
Heartfelt, insightful, and meaningful author B. Johny’s “The Candid Odyssey” is a must-read travel-meets-philosophy book. The author’s trials, from a night spent in a train compartment to the near assault he faced and more, as well as the profound lessons on happiness found in accidental moments and the value of authenticity in life as a whole, made this a compelling read. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
About the Author
. B. Johny, born Bibin Johny in Vaikom, Kerala, India, is a writer, philosopher, traveler, musician, and technologist whose diverse experiences shape his work. His debut book, The Candid Odyssey: Exploring India and the Philosophy of Life, is a reflection of his philosophical insights and travel experiences. Johny holds a Bachelor’s in Computer Science, Master’s in Philosophy, and works as a Senior Product Manager. Through his writing and music, Johny encourages others to lead a better life for a better world. Discover more at bjohny. com.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
Author Leonid Pekarovsky’s short stories are brought to the English language and showcases the struggles of life through the lens of Judaism, Israeilism, and European views in the collection “See you In Eden.”
The Synopsis
One of Israel’s most distinctive literary voices is showcased in this collection of short stories that are alternately profound, insightful, entertaining, and surprising. Leonid Pekarovsky’s short stories will make you weep, laugh, and shake your head in amazement.
“See You in Eden” is the first English collection of literary short stories penned by one of Israel’s premier masters of the format. With the unique perspective of an immigrant, Leonid Pekarovsky views the surreal, beautiful, and often touching constant struggle of life in modern Israel. Drawing from his own experiences and struggles, Pekarovsky blends the cultural traditions of Europe, Judaism, and Israelism to create a rich tapestry of illuminating and always surprising short stories.
Leonid Pekarovsky broke into the Israeli literary sphere when his short story “Broom,” which describes his spiritual struggles and ultimate elevation while cleaning the streets of Tel Aviv, was accepted for publication in one of the country’s premier literary supplements. Since then, he has regularly published his tales, released several Hebrew collections, and achieved international success with his short stories appearing in various magazines in Russian and English.
“See You in Eden” makes this important Jewish literary voice available to English-language readers for the first time. Pekarovsky skillfully blends the fantastic and the realistic, the diasporic experience with the Sabra experience, and the constant struggle to find the sublime and the artistic even when faced with life’s most dire circumstances, cynicism, and cold necessities.
The Review
It’s such a moving and profound read. The author has found the perfect voice and captured the culture and heart of life in Israel. The honesty and the balance of surrealism with the truthful reality that many face in modern Israeli culture will resonate with many readers who have experienced this firsthand and give others a unique insight into this world. The Jewish culture and the author’s life as a Ukrainian immigrant were also distinct and engaging aspects of these stories.
One story in particular, The Umbrella, really hit a special note for me as a reader. The story speaks of themes of identity, purpose, and the work that we do to fund our passions. The idea of someone or something losing purpose when not being used or utilized and the idea that something can find purpose once again made this a memorable story.
The Verdict
Thoughtful, memorable, and engaging author Leonid Pekarovsky’s “See You In Eden” is a must-read literary fiction and collection of short stories. The artful, almost poetic way the author examines life through these stories and the diversity that the author exudes through this work will stay with readers long after the book ends. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
About the Author
Born in Kiev, Ukraine, Leonid Pekarovsky is a writer, journalist and art critic.
Pekarovsky served in the Red Army before studying art theory and history at the Fine Arts Institute in Kiev. He worked for the Ukrainian Ministry of Culture for many years, where he organized art exhibitions both in the USSR and worldwide.
His essays on art theory and history have been published in professional journals.
After he immigrated to Israel in 1991, he worked as a gardener and a printer and, in 1995, became a security guard until he recently retired to focus on his writing.
His stories and novellas have been printed in the Russian press as well as in the Haaretz Culture and Literature Supplement. His first book, Broom and Other Stories, was published in 2012. His second book, A Parabola of Success, was published in 2015.
His third short story collection, Ten Agorot, published in 2018, was shortlisted for the prestigious Israeli Sapir Prize.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
In ” Early Adopter, ” author Drew Harrison has gathered a collection of short stories that mix sci-fi and thriller to mirror the human situation.
The Synopsis
The Price of Tomorrow, Paid Today
“Early Adopter” is a collection of short stories from the edge of human progress. Eight stories hold dark mirrors to our own world… experience thought-provoking sci-fi, technologic tragedy, and pulse-pounding thrillers.
To Run Again: Dr. Laura Brandie is ready to change the world.
She’s the lead researcher behind the KSE, a revolutionary cure for paralysis and neurodegenerative conditions. And now, by good fortune, she’s found the perfect candidate for her first human trial: a man who suffers from locked-in syndrome.
Brett Harmon’s paralysis is total: he can’t move his arms, legs, torso, neck, or face. To the outside world, he’s little more than a statue that breathes… but Dr. Brandie’s KSE might be the miracle that allows Brett to run again.
Homonoia: The world faces an unprecedented alignment of catastrophes and failing systems, far too intricate and interconnected for any human to solve. Frank Burman joins with seven other volunteers for Project Homonoia–a radical, last-ditch effort to postpone the apocalypse. Separate minds link to form one multidisciplinary consciousness, the world’s first human superorganism… a hive mind. But with the world’s health rapidly failing, can Project Homonoia work out its kinks in time to make a difference?
Early Adopter: A loner enters into a relationship with a new type of partner: an AI agent, programmed to be the “perfect companion.”
Sure, it’s all self-deception and a game of pretend, as she’s not actually real… but where simulated consciousness is concerned, maybe the lines between real and real enough can get blurry.
And many more!
The Review
The thoughtfulness and heart that the author writes within this narrative were compelling to me as a reader. The imagery and rich descriptive nature of the stories in this collection allowed the reader to picture these scenes playing out across the page. The tension that mounts as the stories progress and the wealth of character development that builds throughout the tales in this collection will keep readers invested in the book.
I got the privilege to review the audiobook version of this book, and the heartfelt delivery of these stories from the narrators was so engaging. The story that I immediately felt drawn to was To Run Again; as someone who personally deals with mobility issues and autoimmune disorders, the idea of technology being possibly an answer to ending those types of problems is an instant draw, and while the stories found within definitely twist and turns the technology as the plot develops, the thoughtful development of the stories made these tales stand out.
The Verdict
Author Drew Harrison’s “Early Adopter” is a must-read tech thriller that is tense, entertaining, and cinematic in delivery. The story’s twists and turns, the powerful message of technology, and how humanity is reflected in the narratives will stay with readers (and listeners) long after the collection. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
About the Author
I’m a 29-year-old teacher living in Florida who graduated with a degree in broadcast and electronic journalism. Storytelling has always been my passion, but years ago I made the decision to pivot from telling stories about the real world—the domain of newspaper reporters—and instead moved into the realm of the imaginative and fantastical through private creative writings. I eventually mustered the courage to post flash-fiction online through my reddit account, and the reaction was far warmer than I’d have ever imagined. In the years since that moment, I’ve managed to rack up literal millions of upvotes, and my short-form dramatic/comedic writings in post comments have launched my profile to the top 100 in comment karma of all 430 million active site users. The mass feedback and constant encouragement cemented my passion for creative writing—one can only read “you should be a professional writer!” so many times before the belief proves contagious. Now, with my first two novel manuscripts completed, I’m eager to share my stories with the wider world that inspired me… publication can’t come soon enough!
Sheryl R. Hayes has a new MMF paranormal book coming out (bi, poly), Jordan Abbey book 3, and we have the cover reveal: Chaos Kin.
In the town of Rancho Robles, can one werewolf protect the Children of the Wolf and the Bat? Chaos Wolf Jordan Abbey has made friends among the Black Oak Pack even though she refuses to join it. The same can’t be said of the vampires, but her life has taken a turn for the better.
That is until Enya Blevins, sister to the werewolf who turned Jordan, arrives in Rancho Robles. She wants to know who killed her baby brother and is less than impressed by the Chaos Wolf. Enya wants revenge, starting with Jordan and ending with the vampires infesting the area.
Jordan is prepared to flee, but a technicality makes her an Alpha Werewolf. Now she must stand her ground to protect her nascent Pack and those she loves.
The past has come back to bite her. Does she have the fangs to bite back?
About the Series:
In the Northern California town of Rancho Robles where the Children of the Wolf and the Bat share an uneasy coexistence. One werewolf woman threatens to upset that balance.
Sheryl R. Hayes can be found untangling plot threads or the yarn her three cats have been playing with. She is equally likely to be shooing one of them off the keyboard as she is working on her novels and short stories. In addition to writing, she is a cosplayer focusing on knit and crochet costumes.
Let’s talk about ghosts, demons and hauntings. When I started working on Golden Hills Haunting, I decided I wanted to approach the novel from a place of knowledge and understanding. Before I put pen to paper I reached out to the Bay Area Ghost Hunters and to the Diocese of San Jose hoping someone would sit down and talk about the paranormal. I wasn’t disappointed. I had the pleasure of meeting with Loyd Auerbach, Dir. of the Office of Paranormal Investigation, President of Forever Family Foundation and I also landed two different interviews with both a local Catholic Priest and a retired Catholic Exorcist. Following those interviews, I also got in contact with several local community members who shared their personal stories with me. To say I got an education on the subject was an understatement.
As I explored the topic, I learned about the three different types of ghosts and ghost hauntings. Further, I discovered how different researches explore the supernatural. With Mr. Auerbach, he is a firm believer that there are no such thing as evil intent, but there are evil acts. This was a contrast to what the Catholic Priest and the Catholic Exorcist told me (since they believe in demons and demonic possession). However, there was common ground for both groups. Hauntings can be addressed and people and places can be cleansed, which I was relieved to learn, since a lot of what they shared with me was frightening. Even though both groups approached the paranormal differently (one scientific and one spiritually) I was surprised to learn how much they had in common, especially when it came to how they investigated cases. Both teams do extensive interviews and require as much information (proof) as the parties can provide (witnesses, photos, videos, medical reports, first-hand accounts, etc.). Also, each group wants to help people and both teams take their work seriously, and neither the Priest and Exorcist nor Mr. Auerbach will turn people away who are in need of assistance. Whether they can help afflicted is a different story. Also, and this was very important to learn, neither group charges a fee to help people.
If you are ever in a situation where you need this kind of help, you should never be charged for services.
When it comes to the different types of hauntings, I found there are three different types (there is a fourth type that I will get into later). The three main types are; Apparitions (they can be interactive and self-aware), Hauntings (imprints of a past event, like a movie or song playing on repeat), and Poltergeist (this is a living agent with psychokinesis abilities). The fourth type are your demons/evil spirits, and these are not to be messed with. There are things that I discovered about demons and possession that were quite upsetting and I’m still uncomfortable discussing (not because I’m worried about anything bad happening to me but because I learned how sick and twisted people are and what they will do to conjure such beings). With anything demonic or evil, I learned that these creatures have to be invited and even if they are removed, they can easily be invited back, and return. That’s why demons are difficult to get rid of and can take months, if not years, to remove, this is why people suffering from demonic attacks need to keep up with what the priest or exorcist instruct.
Two other items I found interesting about demons is, one, they have territories that they cover, which I thought was strange. The second thing I learned was demons are litigious, which plays into why they can be such a challenge to remove.
Going back to my opening question, do you believe in ghosts? For me, the answer is yes. Especially after talking with the people I spoke with. What we read in books and watch on TV, the internet and in movies is entertainment and should be taken with a grain of salt. When it comes to the real paranormal, there is so much more to ghosts and demons than the regular person will ever understand.
With respect to my novel Golden Hills Haunting, this book is a work of fiction, based on actual accounts from my various sources (some named some not). However, overall, this is a story about family, love, and community. Originally, I wanted to tell a fun ghost story similar to the 1982 movie Poltergeist. In the end, the novel grew into something more, shining a light on a subject that is shrouded in mystery. What ended up published is a story that is based on as much fact and realism as I could include. I wanted to craft a story that addresses the misconceptions and takes on the subject matter in an open and honest manner, while still being fun and, at times, sexy and naughty. I hope readers will enjoy the story and appreciate all the work that went into creating the novel and the characters that inhabit the book.
M.D. Neu has a new gay horror book out: Golden Hills Haunting.
After their daughter was bullied at school, Kyle and Alejandro decided to make a fresh start and move into a beautiful new cul-de-sac development. As they take up residence, the family enjoys seeing the community come to life. But when lights flicker, shadows lurk, and small objects disappear, they begin to doubt their sanity.
When Alejandro and many of their neighbors are struck down by a strange sickness that defies explanation, the family starts to question their recent life change. Feeling trapped they speak with their new neighbors, learning they aren’t alone in the haunted neighborhood.
Who do you turn to when the authorities can’t offer any assistance or protection? How do you fight against a sinister force that is older than time? Can Kyle, Alejandro and the rest of the occupants of Golden Hills Court survive or will this nightmarish ordeal destroy them?
When I decided to sit down and write our story, I wasn’t sure where to open, and I’m still not. Since things didn’t begin all bad, they kicked off slowly. Which makes finding the starting point difficult. I guess when we questioned what was happening in our neighborhood was the day Alejandro came home not feeling well. We’d been in our house for about four months, everything had been unpacked, and our new place felt like a home. Even Chloe, our daughter, had managed to make friends in the neighborhood. We’d had family and friends over and even managed to pull off a big party: our housewarming, which thinking back now should have been our first warning given what happened that day. I digress. Alejandro rarely came home from the office sick, but on that day, I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so ill.
We were lucky, of course. He was unwell, but he wasn’t as bad as some of our neighbors. By the time we got Alejandro settled in bed to rest, three different ambulances had shown up on our cul-de-sac dealing with numerous medical emergencies at various houses. By that evening, almost every home in our circle had been visited by emergency services. The media didn’t catch wind of the story for a few more days, not until the EPA showed up. Hell, everyone arrived, PG&E, San Jose Water, representatives from the housing development, the County, basically every government organization you might throw a rock at. The weeks that followed were only the beginning of our nightmare.
This new house had been our dream, one we had been working toward for years and we needed the change desperately. Our home was the second finished on our street and we were the second family to move in. Yes, we were going to be living around construction for a couple more weeks, but for this house, the daily construction would be worth it, especially at the price we paid. In this valley, these homes were an outright steal. Chloe, in theory, would be at school during the day or off with friends or at therapy. Alejandro and I both worked so we wouldn’t be around during the day when a majority of the construction commenced. Well, except for me. I still worked from home three days a week, but I could manage the noise; I had my music. The only real problem: the traffic as people were moving in and construction teams came and went. We imagined we’d be able to deal with the building and the neighborhood, but we were wrong.
The cause of the mystery illnesses. What a joke. It wasn’t a gas leak or anything in the water or the dirt. We were all looking for the wrong things. At the time, no one ever contemplated we were under attack from the supernatural or paranormal or whatever you want to call a bunch of pissed off spirits and a horde of Demons thrown in for good measure.
But is that when everything commenced?
I don’t think so.
We should have known something was off when we went to the sales center, about three months prior to our moving in. Let me start from before we moved in and go from there. Knowing how things began will help paint a full picture.
Our new neighborhood, our new home, was an infill neighborhood, one of those small groupings of houses that are built on a subdivided parcel of land. They do that a lot in San Jose, with housing being an issue. It’s funny, there wasn’t even a model home to look at. There was a portable sales office with floor plans and finishes to pick from. How we got the house didn’t matter to us; getting the house was what mattered. Chloe needed the change, especially with all she had been dealing with. So, when I found out they were building this infill community, I told Alejandro and we understood we would have to move promptly. After seeing the information, the next day we called out from work and drove to Evergreen to check the location.
The area had everything we were looking for. Chloe could walk to the school, Chaboya Middle School, and she would have to make new friends, but we understood she’d manage. Chloe was social despite the trouble she had when we first got her. There were parks and a creek, plus several trails for hiking and biking. Down Fowler Road at Ruby Avenue a quaint Evergreen Village had been established with shops, restaurants, and larger stores. We couldn’t have asked for a better neighborhood.
If we only knew.
Author Bio
M.D. Neu is an international award-winning inclusive queer Fiction Writer with a love for writing and travel. Living in the heart of Silicon Valley (San Jose, California) and growing up around technology, he’s always been fascinated with what could be. Specifically drawn to Science Fiction and Paranormal television and novels, M.D. Neu was inspired by the great Gene Roddenberry, George Lucas, Stephen King, Alice Walker, Alfred Hitchcock, Harvey Fierstein, Anne Rice, and Kim Stanley Robinson. An odd combination, but one that has influenced his writing.
Growing up in an accepting family as a gay man he always wondered why there were never stories reflecting who he was. Constantly surrounded by characters that only reflected heterosexual society, M.D. Neu decided he wanted to change that. So, he took to writing, wanting to tell good stories that reflected our diverse world.
When M.D. Neu isn’t writing, he works for a non-profit and travels with his biggest supporter and his harshest critic, Eric his husband of twenty plus years.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A toxic family dynamic threatens to burst in an explosive way in author George Veck’s “Ogwen Blues”.
The Synopsis
Fifty-year-old football referee Colin Tudur has endured a pitiful, people-pleasing existence up in the mountains of north Wales. But his time has come! Now finally chasing his dream, he quits his steady job and commits to full-time training, itching for promotion to the Welsh Premier League and the chance to ref on S4C. But such selfishness far from serves his parasitic, coercive wife Clare and stepson Dale, who have long grown dependent on his salary.
Now thwarted in his pursuit of freedom by North Wales’ second-home owner induced housing shortage, twenty-year-old Dale’s forced to wallow in the family’s toxic, co-dependent bubble. Someone’s bound to break…
Hard hitting and fiercely raw, Ogwen Blues charts their plight to thrive in an area starved of adequate opportunities.
The Review
A genuinely compelling and thought-provoking read, author George Veck once again captures the raw, visceral, and emotional tidal wave that often overpowers everyday people in harsh living environments. The culture and social aspects of life in Northern Wales are skewed by the toxicity of this family dynamic and the chilling nature of the drug trade and life lived immersed fully into the world of drugs. The author creatively weaves the tension and heavy atmosphere into the narrative, allowing the painful memories and layers of the family’s toxic history to manifest and bloom naturally on the page.
The heart of this narrative is in the character development and powerful themes the author explores. The narrative allows the reader to look behind the curtain of life in Northern Wales and glimpse the dysfunction within this family unit. The raw, nearly overwhelming nature of human cruelty and the viciousness of drug use skillfully bring this story to new heights and allow the reader to explore the complex depths of human relationships and the cruel nature of life itself.
The Verdict
Memorable, honest, and gritty, author George Veck’s “Ogwen Blues’ is a must-read suspense thriller. The seamless blend of action, drama, and suspense will keep readers invested in the developing story, and the emotional rollercoaster that these characters find themselves on will make the chilling events of the narrative stay with readers long after that final page. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
About the Author
Born in Hastings but raised in North Wales, George mostly writes gritty crime fiction set in Wales.
His inspiration partly derives from political greed, and the plights of those who suffer as a result; whether that’s from mental health issues our criminally underfunded health system won’t treat, housing shortages, domestic abuse, or living in crippling poverty without hope.
As of 2024 George has published six books. Dark domestic thriller Belabour is his latest.
Hello everyone! I am so honored to be able to share a special post today. I was recently contacted by an incredible author named Kathy Martone, whom I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing and reviewing here on my site in recent months. She asked me to share a couple of her original short stories, along with one of her essays, and I thought this would be a fun new idea to share to you guys. Please enjoy these incredible stories and this essay, and if you enjoy them be sure to follow me on my website and follow Kathy as well. Enjoy everyone!
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MOANA DESPEARA
DAY 1
Her name was Moana. Moana Despeara. Outta nowhere she showed up and ruined my life. Just knocked at my door polly please as if she knew me.
“Gimme a minute,” I said. “Be right there!” Looked in the mirror first; made sure my hair looked okay.
Opened the door slowly. Peered out into the blindin’ sunlight. “Can I help ya, young lady?” Why I coulda been starin’ at a mirror, dat girl lookin’ so much like my own self, scat bit younger though. ‘Bout my height and weight, shoulder length curly hair – I be danged, with the same type barrette too – only her hair was bright yellow and mine mousy brown.
Lookin’ like a stray cat, her head down and eyes at half mast, she peeked up at me through straggly hair and asked, “Kin I come in?”
“S-s-sure,” I said surprisin’ myself. “Have a seat in the livin’ room.” Shuffled as fast as I could to folla her. Didn’t want her to think I was a pushover or nothin’. Eased my achin’ bones down onto the chair and stared at her with eyes full o’ questions.
“Uh-h-h, um, well, uh, I don’t rightly know how to say this,” she stumbled. “But I’m in need of a place to stay.” She stared right at me with her big green eyes, just like mine.
Met those big eyes straight on, didn’t want her to know how nervous I were. Why would a stranger knock on my door and ask fer a bed? Very odd. “Well okay,” I heard my voice speak out loud. “But you’ll have to pay; I ain’t got no handouts for no down and out youngster lookin’ fer a place to land. And I’ll need some information, if ya please.”
Sittin’ there watchin’ her fill out my list, I felt no jitters a’tall, a bit surprisin’ with me just axin’ this lost and fersaken’ girl into my home. Money’ll come in handy though, I thought to myself. Seemed polite enough; fingernails were clean; clothes a bit wrinkled but otherwise tidy; hair could’ve used some work.
“Thank you ma’am,” she said as she cleared her throat. “Can’t tell ya how much I ‘preciate this. Life’s been a bit of a struggle fer me, ya know? Havin’ a room of my own should make all the diff’rence.” Raisin’ herself up offa my chair, she yawned and stretched her back. “May I?” she asked, her eyes fillin’ with tears.
“Oh yes, of course. Of course. Lemme show you.” Stood up as quickly as I could and showed her the way into the extra bedroom. “All yours,” I continued as I slipped her check, quiet-like, into my brassiere. “Bathroom’s on your left. Help yourself to the closet and dresser drawers.”
“No need,” she replied. “I don’t come with nothin.”
“Only one other thing. Don’t never touch that chest in the corner, ya hear?”
“Sure ’nuff,” she mumbled.
Not waitin’ round to hear more, I made my way back into the livin’ room and grabbed her application. Heard her door shut behind me. Big sigh of relief. No time to waste on other people’s problems. Or so I thought.
DAY 6
Ever’ night since she arrived, its the same thing what happens over and over like some old movie replayin’ itself on the wheel o’ one of them old fancy movie projectors. Moan groan weep. Moan groan weep. Bedsprings creakin’ like a buncha tree frogs. All to the up and down of my own simmerin’ pot of unrest. Don’t that woman never sleep?
Right round 5:00AM ever’ mornin’ things go quiet. Real quiet. Like graveyard quiet. Don’t never see her durin’ the day. But then I never see her a’tall. Gotta wonder where she goes, what she’s doin’, who she’s talkin’ to. Always locks her door, though. Not that I’d snoop; I’m ever mindful o’ my rights n’ wrongs.
DAY 15
Middle o’ the frickin’ night. Sittin’ here starin’ at that dang door. Can’t get no rest no more. That suzy cutesy what paid for my bed ain’t got no worries ’bout who she bothers. Got so many black circles ‘neath my eyes, why you’d think I was some kinda monster from one o’ them ghost tales my dear old marm used to read to me. The kind that scared my little ticker so bad, couldna’ sleep back then neither.
DAY16
Tossin’ and turnin’ in my bed, sleep still playin’ hard to get. Don’t know how many more nights like this I kin handle. Guess there ain’t no way to ‘scape these demons what haunt my private spaces. But where do these downheartenin’ feelin’s come from? Just makes no dang sense! Used to be, I was so chatty happy. Ever’one always said so. Where did all those bubblin’ up with joy experiences go to? This just ain’t like me a’tall. Just cry, cry, cry. All the durn time. Stupid stupid tears wettin’ my pillow night after godawful night.
DAY 18
When did it become so dang hard just to git outta bed? Coffee sounds good; legs movin’, left right left right left right. Kitchen light on, eyes half shut, coffeepot on. Amazin’ how the aroma of gurglin’ caffeine can be so calmin’. One o’ the few body pleasin’ happenin’s done left to me, surely. Mebbe this missy who shares my house done brought down a curse on me. Wonder when was the last time I had some fun? Just seems as so I don’t have none no more. Just always feelin’ low and fraught with worry.
Ah, what’s this? Moana’s key? Wonder what that sassy frassy’s up to? Come to think on it, she ain’t paid her rent this week. Why surely she wouldna’ checked out without so much as a bye and bye, without collectin’ her deposit. Guess I’ll think on that later; coffee won’t stay hot forever.
DAY 19
Surely feels good to get some rest fer a change. Ain’t heard one peep from that girl fer two days now. Guess she’s surely gone after all. Should I or shouldn’t I? Why, this house b’longs to me. I have ever’ right to open that door! Makes me a might nervous though – what if she be lyin’ inside deader ‘n dead? Oh, best leave things be! Standin’ here with both my eyeballs glued to her door ain’t doin’ me no good no way.
DAY 20
Ain’t lately heard nothin’ more from that room. Why’s my hand shakin’ so? Such foolishness ain’t suitable for one such as me. You’d think I stole m’self into this here house or somethin’. Deep breath. Ever so slow – why, glory be, the door’s open!
Raise m’sef up on my toe tips and ease inside, quieter’n a mouse. Room’s dark, curtains drawn against the risin’ sun. Flip the light. Eyes wide open in surprise. Why those be my clothes on that there bed! Whip my gaze ‘cross the room. Chest wide open with my belongin’s scattered ever’where! What the blazin’ devil, I begin to curse.
Grabbin’ the lavender underlies and matchin’ brassiere from the tangled bedclothes, I march into the bathroom and flip that light switch. Lookin’ at my reflection in the mirror, all the color drains from that face peerin’ back at me. That face! It’s Moana Despeara. Moana Despeara who’s been inhabitin’ my house, my clothes, my soul.
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THE AWAKENING
The dream began like all dreams – shrouded in magic and mystery.
My black haired sister and I walk hand in hand as we head for the dark woods. The deep silence of the forest quickly descends and we are swallowed by the vast network of trees. Entering a large open glade lit by the pearlescent glow of the full moon, we lie down on a moss covered stone and fall asleep, entering the dreamscape as one. In the dream we stand in a large meadow in the middle of a forest. The full moon casts her alabaster net strewn with stars across the firmament, her luminous halo transforming the scene into a mythical landscape of unparalleled beauty. Soon we are confronted by a massive wild boar with ivory tusks who charges at us and carries off my beloved sister. Overtaken with fear, I awaken from the dream to find that my sister is gone.
I rouse myself from the dream, confused and disoriented. Who is this dark sister of mine and what happened to her? Her tortured cries as the beast carried her away linger in my head. Glancing at the clock on the table beside my bed, I see that it is only five minutes past midnight, the witching hour. Dare I return to the land of sleep? Can I save this mysterious sibling of the murky moon? And how does one go about such heroic efforts with wild beings who inhabit the shadow realms?
My heart beats a staccato rhythm against my chest wall as I contemplate this scenario. Fearful of facing the moon beast again, I decide to get out of bed and read for a bit. I pad my way into the pitch black confines of my kitchen looking for a glass of wine to calm my nerves. Not wanting to blast myself back into full consciousness with overhead incandescent light, I grope my way along the granite counters until I find the bottle of red wine where I left it earlier. Somehow just holding onto the dark vessel gives me a small measure of comfort, as I slowly begin to orient myself back into non-dreaming reality.
I hold the cool glass of ruby liquid close to my heart as I tiptoe out of the kitchen and into my living room, where I search the bookshelves for something to occupy my thoughts. The fact that I stand here bathed in moonlight – that same crown of light that highlighted the inexplicable kidnapping I just witnessed – does not escape me. Blindly I let my fingers play along the spines of the books before choosing a thin volume of unknown title.
Both hands now fully occupied, I take a seat on my red velvet Victorian couch and sigh deeply. Setting the wine glass and book on the coffee table, I lean back against the plush red and purple pillows and gaze up at the ceiling while trying to whisk away the cobwebs of dream memory in favor of some concrete facts – like I’m here, now, safe, now, in my home, now, no wild-eyed monsters here.
Some moments later, feeling a little less anxious, I take a long sip of the Italian wine savoring its warm slow journey down the pipe of my esophagus and into my solar plexus. Exhaling fully, I let my eyes wander over to the chosen volume still lying on the table. I lean forward to position the glass of wine next to the book as my consciousness wavers between realism and mysticism. Placing my right hand on the green cover, I close my eyes and bring the text onto my lap. The trepidation of facing yet some new additional horror makes me nervous about opening the novel. But I am fully awake, I remind myself, fully awake and safe at home.
Determined to conquer the demons who occupy my mind, I grasp the hardbound copy with both hands and open my eyes to read the title. Werewolves of London screams silently back at me, my eyes wide with fear and shock. Quickly I drop the bewitched volume back onto the table and gulp down the remaining wine as I careen violently between nightmare and sleep, magical beings and concrete facts, bewitchery and reality.
Leaving the book and the now empty glass of wine on the antique wooden table, I race back into the bedroom and dive under the bedclothes seeking safety and comfort. How much time passes, I do not know. But I eventually find myself dreaming once again.
I am asleep on the moss covered stone in the moonlit garden. The sound of some savage creature barreling through the underbrush awakens me. Holding my breath and casting my eyes about for a place to hide, I spot the white tusked wild pig with beady, red-rimmed black eyes. He stands at least 6 feet tall and his breath fogs the air about him with the smell of rotting flesh. Motionless, he remains standing at the edge of the forest, simply staring at me.
The entire jungle goes silent as the censorship of death and rebirth takes charge. No more chattering cicadas, no more rustling branches, no more hooting owls. Just the stillness of graveyards and timeless journeys into space. Spinning out of control as my thoughts try to grasp the scene unfolding before me, I am stunned to see my dark haired sister seated upon the back of the beast, smiling at me. She wears a mask of exquisite beauty, black and red sequined feathers glittering in the moonlight as they frame her own ebony eyes. The scene fades as I lose consciousness.
Later I awaken to find a bag made of animal skin and filled with masks. As I spill the contents onto my green carpeted bed of stone, a group of women gather in a circle, dancing before me, their black and red feathered veils shimmering in the pale light of the moon.
I awaken in my bed, the morning sun peeking around the window frames and brightening up my room. Lying on top of my bedspread sits a black and red feathered mask dotted with sequins and crystals.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I stare at the image looking back at me. Who is she, I often ask myself. This older woman with graying hair, wrinkles around her eyes, parchment paper-thin skin, old age spots. And yet, she looks oddly familiar, this unedited version of myself. I decide I don’t like her and try to banish her from my life. But she is persistent and returns every time I look in the mirror. Make-up, youthful clothing, and hair dye both seem to move her to the corners of my eyes where I don’t have to look at her square on. This has worked for several years but now she has invaded my inner space, talking to me from inside my head. There is no escape, it seems. I feel trapped. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Destiny is in control.
As I begrudgingly accept her presence – this uninvited and unwanted caricature of myself – I am pleasantly surprised to discover how much I enjoy her company. Often witty and humorous, serious and introspective, she lays out the contradictory puzzle pieces of the map of my life, her ongoing narrative providing depth and wisdom to the flat contours of my memory. She speaks to me of a life lived and another life to come. She reminds me that there is much more to this human existence than I ever considered, inviting me into a dance of understanding and wisdom, a song of pain and beauty, all intertwined around a central axis of soul fiber – the true source of human nourishment, she explains.
And so, I sit myself down in front of this reflection and ask her permission to speak. Silently nodding, her upturned mouth and twinkling eyes signaling her assent, we begin crafting our relationship – a relationship that will survive beyond eternity. My teacher, my Self. The unfolding of the chrysalis of enlightenment, nourished in the womb of silent introspection.
We begin our wordless dialogue, this Other and Myself. Telepathically, I complain about her intrusion into my life. “I don’t like being invisible,” I begin. “I want to be seen and recognized, understood and valued. When I walk into a room, no one pays any attention, whereas when I was young and beautiful, heads always turned whenever I entered a room. I miss the power of physical attraction,” I finish with a sigh.
Almost hidden behind folds of skin that inhabit her orbits, her eyes widen with mirth and undeniable interest as she moves closer to me. “Why, my dear,” she clucks thoughtfully. “You’re describing the state of emptiness and humility that accompanies spiritual evolution. Why would you bemoan such gems of transcendence? This is what we’re all after in this life journey, is it not? Our time is better spent exploring the invisible realms not complaining about them!”
Gulping down feelings of shame and embarrassment at not having understood this obvious truth, I bow my head and try to gather my thoughts. Memories of my childhood begin to flood my mind/body system – a tsunami of images, thoughts and emotions swirling and crashing along the fault lines of old scars and threatening to reopen ancient wounds. My eyes begin to well with tears. “Why is my life still so difficult?” I almost yell at her. “I thought life was supposed to get easier! My childhood was hell but this is not much better. My body talks to me constantly – which is really annoying – and demands so much of my attention. As you know, I have always been anxious but now there is so much more to worry about – like having enough health insurance to pay for all the necessary maintenance for this bag of bones. And what will happen to me if I should fall and break a piece of this fragile skeleton? I feel so fucking vulnerable and everything is harder than it used to be. Wasn’t I supposed to be feeling stronger as I age? No one prepared me for this and I’m not happy about it, let me tell you!”
The old woman in the mirror stares at me, unblinking. Soon a tear slowly cascades down the hills and valleys of her wrinkled and sagging face. Now I’m really ashamed of myself. I didn’t mean to upset her. But I keep quiet, holding my breath and hoping for more pearls of wisdom. Standing shakily on spindly legs and grasping her walking cane with her gnarled fist, she turns and inches away from the glass, disappearing from my view. Where could she have gone, I wonder. Soon, the sound of distant music makes its way to my ears – the soft strains of a flute and a violin floating gently in the air and wrapping itself around me like a cocoon of remembrance. But remembrance of what? Surrendering to the magic of the calming melody, I close my eyes only to jerk them open again as I shield my eyes from the bright white light that floods me. Out of the luminous glow comes a voice – the now familiar inflection of my elder self. “Do you remember now, my Sweet One?” her words ring in my ear. “Do you remember who you really are? For, without the crucible of pain and suffering, without the burning away of all things mortal, you would never recall that, at your core, you are a Being of Light. Everything else is irrelevant. This envelope of skin and bones is simply a distraction and inhibits us from the knowledge of our true essence. Yes, life is painful for everyone. And I grieve with you the intensity of such suffering but remember, there is always a reason. You’re being called to remember that you are more than flesh and bone, you are much more than you ever thought you were. And bless the fires that have purified you!” As the music fades away, so does the light. The reflection of my wise elder stares back at me, a beatific smile radiating from her holy face.
“But why does it have to be so hard?” I blurt out without thinking. Slapping my hands over my mouth, I hope she has not heard my careless utterance.
“It really doesn’t have to be,” she whispers, her words like thin sheets of parchment paper blowing in the wind. “Remembering is often the key to release. Remembering the trajectory of your past with its joys and its pain, its suffering and its delights, will help you to navigate more easily the path of your present and that of your future. But you must season your remembrance with the sweetness of compassion and self-love. Sprinkle liberally with that awareness that only comes from years of experience.”
Covering my face with my hands, I pull my focus inward, searching and seeking, always looking for the elusive answers to the meaning of my life. Peeking through my splayed fingers, I’m amused to see the Crone, hands covering her own face, eyes forward, staring back at me. I chuckle; she echoes. Pulling her hands down from her face, she looks at me questioningly. “I just…..I just really hate it….I don’t understand why I’m still struggling with the same issues that plagued me when I was younger. Wasn’t I supposed to evolve? I mean, I’ve spent most of my life seeking consciousness and self-understanding. I immersed myself in the practice of Tibetan Buddhism and made a 6 week pilgrimage to Tibet. I’m still in therapy and meditate regularly. But I seem to be standing in the exact same spot with the exact same challenges. What gives?”
“Spiritual and psychological transformation take time, often many life times,” she replies. “It’s a process, not a product. From where I stand, it seems to me that the only thing missing from your profound journey is empathy for yourself. Humans never thrive unless they are seen for who they truly are – Light Beings repeatedly caught in the struggle to emerge from the restrictive human experience. You would do well to enlarge your perspective and excise the judgment. And now, I’m getting tired. Shall we take just one more question before I retire?”
Breathing deeply to collect my thoughts and prepare the query I have purposely left for last, I gaze lovingly into the eyes of my new spiritual friend. “So, what about death?” I ask.
“What about it?” she shoots back with a thin smile creasing her thin lips.
“Well, uh, I was just thinking,” I begin haltingly. “My mortality is always lurking around the edges, reminding me that my time is short. And – I have so many things I still want to do with my life. I’m curious about death and yet, also afraid of being in pain, afraid of being afraid. I‘m just not ready….” My voice trails off.
“So, with all those past life memories you’ve excavated – soul journeys, if you will – you don’t trust that death is a welcome doorway into another dimension, another life experience? A chance to further the work you have only just begun in this life? Death is not an ending, just another beginning – and one that you’ve experienced before. You survived death in the past and you’ll survive it yet again. Remember. Its always about perspective – seeing the future from the perspective of your own ancient and eternal past. Does that help?” she asks as her form begins to dissolve, like particles of sugar in a glass of water. Left behind is the reflection of a woman just a bit younger, still with wrinkles and graying hair but a more acceptable and not so decrepit version of myself. I breathe a sigh of relief – not that old yet. And definitely not dead – yet.
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About the Author
Dr. Kathy Martone is currently an author and artist living in a small Victorian town in the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas. She and her husband also manage two small BnB’s in their charming turn of the century village.
Before retiring in 2015, Dr. Martone was a Jungian psychologist in private practice specializing in dream work, women’s spirituality and shamanic journeys. Prior to this, she was the director of a small mental health clinic and then she served as company psychologist for Southwestern Bell Telephone. She taught classes at Colorado Free University, The Jungian Ministries International, Naropa University, and Iliff School of Theology. For the past 35 years she has studied with Richmond K. Greene, past chair of the New York Jungian Institute.
The magical world of dreams has fascinated and intrigued Kathy for as long as she can remember. Inspired by a dream in 2005, she began making velvet tapestries imprinted with the image of one of her own dream figures and embellished with ribbons, rhinestones, feathers, glass beads, Swarovski crystals, antique jewelry and semi-precious stones. As a Jungian psychologist and shamanic practitioner, energy and depth of meaning are very important to her. So frequently she will accent the tapestries with symbolic objects, such as old pieces of jewelry, the lining from a purse that belonged to her grandmother, or a piece of ribbon she wore as a little girl. Layering these materials into a meaningful image evokes for her the multi-layered realms of dreams, myth and metaphor. Like the magical nets of ancient shamans, these colorful tapestries ensnare the features of her dream spirits as they stare back at her from their watery dimensions. Her work has been displayed in galleries in Denver, Colorado as well as in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.
In 2006 Dr. Martone self published her first book titled, Sacred Wounds: A Love Story. The book chronicles the author’s relentless quest for self understanding and provides a blueprint for other seekers who are looking for spiritual enlightenment while grappling with painful life experiences. Written in easy to understand language, the book explains how various spiritual and psychological practices were brought together in an alchemical blend to produce a potion of timeless healing. Weaving its way through such healing practices as psychotherapy, shamanism, Buddhism, Jungian thought and dream work, the reader is given a clear map for psychological and spiritual change.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
The line between revenge and justice blurs as several people get intertwined with a plot involving Big Pharma and the lack of ethics involved in the industry in author Hank Phillippi Ryan’s “The First To Lie”.
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The Synopsis
What happens when an undercover reporter gets in too deep? And when a practiced liar has to face off with her own truth—how does she choose her true reality?
Who will be the first to lie?
Bestselling and award-winning author and investigative reporter Hank Phillippi Ryan delivers another twisty, thrilling suspense novel that will leave you breathless.
The Review
What a truly thought-provoking and engaging thriller! The cat and mouse storyline from these multiple points of view really keep the reader guessing as to who is the cat and who is the mouse in this web of lies and deceit. The multiple viewpoints each help to unravel the larger conspiracy and mystery surrounding this major Pharma company and how their actions led to a domino effect like no other.
The many paths the plot takes readers on are gripping in their own right, but the moment these paths finally start to converge readers will be shocked and amazed when identities are revealed and truths are laid bare. The author does a great job of developing an intricate plot that challenges the reader to think and uncover little clues as the story progresses to see who the true “villain” of this tale is, and whether or not true justice exists in this world.
The Verdict
A brilliant thriller that fans of the genre will not be able to put down, author Hank Phillippi Ryan’s “The First to Lie” is a masterful deep-dive into the suspenseful world of lies and conspiracies. An evenly paced narrative and characters that readers will both love and love to hate, the complex morality of each character and the twist and turns of the story will keep readers invested entirely. Be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Hank Phillippi Ryan is the USA Today bestselling author of eleven award winning novels of suspense. National reviews have called her a “master at crafting suspenseful mysteries” and “a superb and gifted storyteller.” Her newest thriller, THE FIRST TO LIE, received a starred review from Publishers Weekly, calling it “Stellar.”
Her earlier psychological thriller, THE MURDER LIST, received a *starred review from Library Journal–which called it: Masterly plotted, riveting and a must read. It’s now an Agatha, Anthony, Macavity and Mary Higgins Clark Award nominee, a number one legal thriller on Amazon, and a USA Today Bestseller.
Her first psychological standalone, TRUST ME (now in paperback) , is an Agatha Award nominee, and was named BEST of 2018 by the New York Post, Real Simple Magazine, BookBub, Crime Reads, and PopSugar. Mary Kubica says: “Dazzling!” and Lisa Gardner says “Mesmerizing!”
The Booklist *starred review says “…it’s a knockout. First-rate psychological suspense.”
Her thriller SAY NO MORE, is a Library Journal BEST OF 2016. And this just in: it’s a nominee for the AGATHA AWARD and the MARY HIGGINS CLARK AWARD! And now, breaking news, it is also a DAPHNE AWARD nominee! Associated Press calls it “stellar” and Publishers Weekly calls it “thrilling” “unflinching” and “gratifying.”
Her 2015 book, WHAT YOU SEE, is a Library Journal BEST of 2015, an ANTHONY and AGATHA Award nominee, and a Top Pick!, dubbed “exceptional suspense.” It received a starred review from Library Journal which says: “Readers will find themselves racing to the finish!”
Her 2014 book, TRUTH BE TOLD, won the AGATHA Award for best mystery, and is a Library Journal Best of 2014. It received starred reviews from Booklist and Library Journal, which says, “Drop everything and binge read!”
THE WRONG GIRL won the Agatha Award and the Daphne Award, and is a seven-week Boston Globe bestseller and Anthony Award nominee.
THE OTHER WOMAN won the coveted Mary Higgins Clark Award, and was listed as a Best Book of 2012 by the Kansas City Star, the Sacramento Bee, Suspense Magazine, and The Boston Globe, won the prestigious Mary Higgins Clark Award, and was the only novel nominated for the Agatha, Anthony, Macavity, Shamus and Daphne awards for Best Novel of 2012.
Her first four mysteries, beginning with the Agatha Award-winning PRIME TIME, feature Charlotte McNally, a Boston television reporter. FACE TIME was a BookSense Notable Book, and AIR TIME and DRIVE TIME were both Anthony and Agatha Award nominees for best novel of 2009 and 2010. They are now available in all new editions.
Hank is also an award-winning investigative reporter at Boston’s WHDH-TV. In addition to 37 EMMYs and 14 Edward R. Murrow awards, Hank’s won dozens of other honors for her ground-breaking journalism.
Her work has resulted in new laws, people sent to prison, homes removed from foreclosure, and millions of dollars in refunds and restitution for victims and consumers. She’s been a radio reporter, a legislative aide in the United States Senate and an editorial assistant at Rolling Stone Magazine, working with Hunter S. Thompson, Richard Avedon and Richard Goodwin.
Hank is a founding teacher at Mystery Writers of America University and served as president of national Sisters in Crime. She blogs at Jungle Red Writers and Career Authors.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A truly unique memoir tells the story of a young writer who struggled with addiction and mental health, and found a way to overcome it all through love in author Israfel Sivad’s “Disorder”.
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The Synopsis
Disorder is the story of Michael Adams, the man behind the pen name, Israfel Sivad. At 37-years-old, Michael wasn’t sure any longer if he was hipstered out or truly beat. He was a recovering drug addict and alcoholic. He’d been in psych wards, and he’d spent almost a decade writing his second novel. But then, he found himself inspired in a whole new way. He believed he might be falling in love…
Disorder traces Michael’s experiences from a period of homelessness at the age of 32 through his battles with alcoholism and psychosis back to his birth in Southern California. Simultaneously, it weaves a tale of the relationship Michael is trying to build with his girlfriend, Pam.
In this story, the author develops a groundbreaking, nonlinear style that captures both the disjointed madness of psychosis and the natural rhythms of memory. He reveals the reality behind what many of us believe we would never be able to live through: drug addiction, alcoholism and psychotic breaks… and his ability to overcome those demons to discover love, even when it seemed he was already too damaged to let that emotion take hold.
The Review
The author does a fantastic job of conveying a powerfully painful and harsh period of time in their lives, using a non-linear style storytelling device to convey the author’s life. From memories of childhood having lost a grandfather and best friend to dark times living in and out of psych wards and the streets of Richmond, the author doesn’t hold back on the physical and mental toll his life took when he was addicted to drugs and alcohol, and the psychosis that he endured as well.
The imagery really conveys the struggle the author had in his life to the reader, while the story between himself and Pam is the beginning of a path to redemption that anyone who is struggling in life can hang onto and see for themselves that the trials and tribulations in their life aren’t forever. While the writing style can change sometimes throughout the narrative of the author’s life, it adds to the allure and interest of the non-linear storytelling, making this a fascinating read.
The Verdict
Powerful, emotional, and a brilliant read, author Israfel Sivad’s “Disorder” is a truly one of a kind memoir both stylistically and intellectually, giving voice to the struggles of those with mental health struggles and addiction in a way that few have ever really captured before. Grab your copy on September 8th, 2020, and see for yourselves how this amazing author came to be.
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About the Author
Israfel Sivad is the founder of Ursprung Collective, which has been referred to as “fantastic brain food” on ReverbNation. His first novel, “Crossroads Blues”, has been compared to the work of Fyodor Dostoevsky (Palmetto Review). His second novel, “The Adversary’s Good News”, was a finalist for the 2016 Chanticleer Paranormal Book Award. His stories and poems have appeared in the Santa Fe Literary Review, The Stray Branch and Badlands Literary Journal.
