tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15416344548331411952024-03-12T17:21:56.392-07:00Strange RosesFiction - Sci-Fi and mild horrorTexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-68479569219924010452016-02-06T20:08:00.002-08:002016-02-06T20:08:26.983-08:00Something in the WoodsI just returned home after viewing a new movie titled Something in the Woods. This is what is considered an indie movie ... that is it was made by an independent movie maker. Hollywood has forgotten how to make movies without using vulgarity, nudity, and just plain smut. Fortunately indie film makers are stepping up and providing good movies the way they used to make them ... with no smut.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Something in the Woods is made by a group of film makers who you would have to call 'novice'. Although the names on the screen aren't going to attract hordes of screaming fans these actors are stepping up to give Duvall and Spacek a run for their money. Angela Harger did a spectacular job as Mary Hartman. When she feared that the creature would get into her home, where she was trying to protecting her children, she showed strong expressions of terror that you would expect from a seasoned actress. Child star, Kayden Grisham, played a touching scene with the creature as they 'talked' with one another through his bedroom window. And Lee Kelly provided a well played narration as his character encouraged his father to tell the story of a families ordeal with the creature that drove them from their home. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I strongly recommend this as a good choice of a family thriller. Well done and congratulations to the cast and crew of a fine indie movie.</div>
TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-62754064158274222862014-03-08T07:23:00.001-08:002014-03-08T07:23:47.805-08:00This world is but a canvas to our imagination.<br />
- Henry David Thoreau -TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-20053602374416354012014-03-01T20:52:00.000-08:002014-03-01T20:52:31.428-08:00FREE Kindle Children's BookPlease accept this FREE children's book from me to you. Share on your FaceBook wall and on Twitter cause it will only be FREE for five days. Help me give away 100 FREE Kindle books. There are five sweet little children's stories that I wrote for my own great grand-children. It's only 25 pages but I really think your kids will love them.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IOVU4CQ">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IOVU4CQ</a> TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-65864577591863948012014-03-01T03:00:00.001-08:002014-03-01T03:00:40.562-08:00Thought for the Day"It is impossible to discourage the real writers - they don't give a damn what you say, they're going to write." <br /> ~ Sinclair LewisTexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-16929245735335462932014-02-28T18:41:00.001-08:002014-02-28T18:46:46.790-08:00Here's a sample from my Collected Short Stories<br />
<h1 style="margin: 0.67em 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001B5PD80</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc379107093"></a></h1>
<h1 style="margin: 0.67em 0in;">
</h1>
<h1 style="margin: 0.67em 0in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Toc377024968"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Toc379107093;">A Rose by Any Other Name</span></a></h1>
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Jill Parks and her husband Ray were moving into their first home together. It
was one of those sweet little houses with a white picket fence that every stereotyped
girl dreams of. They parked on the street so that the moving van could back
into the drive to unload. As they got out of their car, they noticed an elderly
woman watching from her screened porch across the street.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“She probably cut her husband up in little pieces years ago and buried him in
her garden,” Ray teased.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“I think she looks sweet.” Jill snapped at him. She loved old people and Ray
knew it. All her life she had always sought out the old people in the
neighborhood to befriend. “I can’t wait to go meet her.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“You’ll have to wait.” Ray said as he guided her up the walk to their home,
where boxes were being unloaded. “You’re not leaving me stuck with the
unpacking.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Oh geez, Ray.” Jill rolled her eyes at him. She had no intentions of allowing
Ray to decide where things were to go. “Men don’t know a thing about organizing
a home. I wouldn’t dream of leaving it to you.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Thanks. I wouldn’t dream of doing it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“You’re welcome.” She groaned as she waited at the front door to be carried
across the threshold of their first real home together.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“What’s up?” Ray asked and nudged her forward. “Why don’t you go in?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“This <i>is</i> our first home together.” Jill tried to explain as she
emphasized the word “is”.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“So?” Ray curtly remarked and he walked around her to go into the house.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“How gallant,” Jill fumed as she followed him in.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
A few days later Jill decided she needed to take a break from organizing and
decorating her new home. Ray was off to his new job in the city, so Jill set
out across the street to meet her neighbor.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
The house was a large two and a half story with a full basement. It had
probably been built in the late 1800’s or early 1900’s. There were two large
yards, front and back, as well as ample space on the sides. It took up a half
block. The back yard was surrounded by a tall masonry wall that was carved with
floral designs in a two foot strip along the top. There were flowers everywhere
and Jill couldn’t help but admire their beauty and fragrance. The roses were
especially breathtaking. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Jill opened the screen door to the porch and went up to the large entrance. She
rang the old fashioned bell and waited for a reply, watching through the
windows on the door.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Soon her neighbor came into the entry from a curved door to the right of a
beautiful staircase. As the older woman glided towards the front entrance, Jill
noticed how tall and stately she stood. She was slender with perfect posture.
Her skin was smooth and unblemished and her hair was a beautiful silvery white,
with natural waves pulled up into a gentle bun in the back. Her smile presented
the face of an angel and Jill was instantly entranced by this beautiful lady.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Hello dear,” the lady greeted her. “I thought you might drop by today. Please,
come in.” She stepped back to allow Jill to
enter.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Oh your house is beautiful,” Jill said as she admired the carved detail of the
beautiful staircase and a large crystal chandelier that was centered above the
entry. “I’m Jill Parks. My husband, Ray, and I just moved in across the
street.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Yes, I know dear. I’ve been watching you since that first day, just waiting
for this visit. I have tea and cakes ready.” She led Jill into her sitting
room. “My name is Agatha Wallace. I’ve lived in this house all my life and I’m
ninety years old.” She smiled widely. “Isn’t that an awfully long time to live
in the same house?” Without giving Jill a chance to respond she continued. “It
used to be me and my sister, Clara, but she’s been gone for more than fifty
years now. Do you use lemon or honey? I have both you know. And fresh cream if
you like.” </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Ah, excuse me?” Jill said, confused.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“For your tea, dear. Do you use lemon or honey or fresh cream?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Oh, gee, I don’t know. I’ve never drank hot tea before.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Well, this should be a real treat then. Please sit.” She motioned for Jill to
be seated at an antique settee that faced a delicately carved mantle
surrounding the large fireplace.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“How beautiful,” Jill exclaimed.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Thank you dear.” Agatha sat down
next to Jill. “You can call me Aggie. That’s what my sister called me. You
remind me so much of her. Would you like Tea Cakes? I’ve just taken them from
the oven.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Tea Cakes?” Jill had never heard of
them and was rather confused by Aggies’s ability to switch subjects so quickly.
She took a Tea Cake from the plate held in front of her and giggled. “It looks
like a fat cookie.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Basically, yes,” Aggie agreed with
a twinkle in her eye.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jill surveyed the beautiful, old
fashioned sitting room as she sipped her tea and sampled the cakes. On the
mantle there were a number of antique ‘nick-knacks’ that caught her eye. Most
of all, she admired a collection of life-sized porcelain hands. Her favorite
was cupped to hold a delicate ruby rose. “Oh, do you mind?” Jill pointed to the
hand as she stood and walked to the fireplace.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Go ahead dear.” Aggie beamed with
pride over her treasures.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“It looks so real.” Jill turned the
hand over and over to view its fine detail.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Well, of course it does,” Aggie
said as she came to stand beside Jill. “It is real. That was Clara’s hand.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Clara?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Yes, you remember, dear. Clara was my sister.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Jill carefully replaced it onto the mantle. “I’ve never seen anything so
beautiful. And that rose is so – oh, I don’t know; it’s just that you would
never see a real rose that perfect.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Of course you would.” Aggie just smiled. “Would you like to see my perfect
Clara roses?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Oh yes.” Jill said, as she followed Aggie to the greenhouse just past the back
porch. The greenhouse was reserved for only the most perfect, the most
exquisite roses Jill had ever seen. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered, as if
speaking in a normal tone might disturb the roses in some way.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Oh, these aren’t the Clara’s.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
They continued through the greenhouse until they were almost at the very back.
There, protected in its own small glass room, as if to shield it from all the
other roses, grew the most perfect ruby roses imaginable. These were the Clara
roses.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Aggie opened the door for Jill to enter. She stood behind Jill as she allowed
her to bask in the beauty of the roses. Jill stooped down to get really close
and to enjoy their fragrance. “Aggie,” she asked, “why did you name these roses
Clara?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“I told you dear.” Aggie leaned over with a pair of garden shears to clip a
rose for Jill. “Clara was my sister. She was so pretty and delicate, just like
these roses. In fact, this was her rose. She developed this one, not me. I’ve
only tended it all these years.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Aggie stared down at Jill, who still knelt beside the beautiful bush. “You know
dear, you look very much like Clara. You have those same delicate features. She
was always the pretty one. Then she thought she would leave me. Can you
imagine?”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“What?” With eyes wide open, Jill caught her breath.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“Well, I simply couldn’t allow her to leave me. I did it right here. She was
kneeling down by the bush, just as you are now. Then I simply cut her up and
burned the pieces. Her ashes made such a wonderful fertilizer for her roses.
All except for her hand, of course. I just had to keep that. I am so proud of
the porcelain job I did with that, although I must say that I’ve done well with
all the hands in my collection over the years. It’s actually one of these roses
Clara is holding.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
Jill felt chills as she listened.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0.05pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
“It’s been such a long time since I’ve had any of that wonderful fertilizer. Clara
will be so happy.”</span></div>
TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-81815853524288830792014-02-28T10:52:00.000-08:002014-02-28T10:52:00.004-08:00New BookI have put together a Collection of Children's Stories. It's just a small volume of five stories. I have set it up to offer it FREE for Kindle for a while. This is the link: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IOVU4CQ">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IOVU4CQ</a>. Hope you get it ok and enjoy reading the stories to your children. Just say it's from one great-grand mother to your children.TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-86483864352197283252014-02-28T10:48:00.001-08:002014-02-28T10:48:09.791-08:00Something To Think About: Why Do You Write?
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">When I was a kid,
growing up in a small Texas town, I found that when I wrote my “stories” I
would have a large audience on the playground any day after lunch. All I had to
do was to bring my most recent chapter to read. I guess I really liked the
feeling of importance. More than that, I really liked the feeling I got while I
was putting my thoughts on paper. This phenomenon continued through junior high
school and high school. I would write and share; but I never saved anything.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Growing</span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">How I wish I
still had those early stories to read now. What a difference I would see; what
growth I would identify. Those early stories, I remember, were along the lines
of the Nancy Drew mysteries. I think I saw myself as a great mystery writer. By
the time I was in high school, I think I had graduated into some of the
stranger stories similar to what I write now. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After I became an adult I only remember writing a few
more things. I wrote one story based on a recurring nightmare I had as a child.
This, I wrote at the suggestion of a counselor. Through the writing of this
story and a charcoal drawing I did that illustrated it, I was able to write my
way through the pains of my childhood. Later, after the earliest Star Wars
movie and the first Star Trek movie came out I wrote a sci-fi for my kids.
Again I had an audience to listen as each chapter emerged. I found it to be a
way to draw my kids and me closer together. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Life
Got In The Way</span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">After that I put
my writing aside for a very long time. Life got in the way as it always seems
to do. I told myself that I didn’t have time to write. That, however, would
have been the perfect time to write. When your kids are growing up there are
always so many funny things and so many sweet things that they do. Now I have
to rely on a faulty memory to get them down on paper; and there are a few
things that I feel are worth doing just that. I only hope that I can remember
the details well enough to turn them into stories before I can no longer
remember at all. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now, here I am, retired and needing something to fill my
time. I went the FaceBook virtual farming route for a while. There is just so
much virtual farming a person can do. It’s not like you’re going to take your
virtual veggies and make a virtual salad, so you can invite your virtual
friends to a virtual feast after virtual church. After a while it gets
virtually boring.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Looking
Back</span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">So why do I
write now? Because I’m a virtual nut case? Okay; maybe I’m just a little
obsessive and somewhat creative. Writing is something that I have been storing
up inside of me for a number of years. I stored it so long that the silos of my
heart and my mind were about to burst open and spill all the grain it had
stored up onto a virtual field; I like to think of it as field of Texas
bluebonnets. These silos are splitting at the seams now and the stories are
steadily seeping out. It’s all that I can do to scoop them up and pour them out
onto my laptop.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Why
Do You Write?</span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Go on, ask
yourself this question. What makes you put things on paper? It might be a hard
question to answer but it is an important one. We should all, at some point,
take a look at ourselves to find out what really motivates us to write in order
to better understand our writing. Is it something that you have always done?
Why? If you were told that you could never write another thing what would you
do? I think that I would have to go on writing anyway, no matter what the
consequences. </span></div>
TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-65903487256914278552014-02-26T14:21:00.002-08:002014-02-26T14:25:06.194-08:00End of February UpdatesHey y'all, M J here. Just wanted to let you know what I'm up to lately. <br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
AGELESS: Enemy Mine is almost finished. I will probably release it in March or April wit a special. I will offer Volume 1, The Vampire's Journals free for probably about a week and Enemy Mine for a discounted price. Be sure to look for it. I will post a notice here when it is released and on Face Book.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I have two author pages. On Face Book just type M J Henry in at the top of the page where the search box is. My Amazon author page is at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/M-J-Henry/e/B00HI3KZ5M">http://www.amazon.com/M-J-Henry/e/B00HI3KZ5M</a>. The Amazon author page has a listing of all my books.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
Currently Amazon has the following books listed for me: my first novel, The Vampire's Journals, my novella, The Trees Have Eyes, my Collected Short Stories, and 3 children's books. This will change by next week as I have combined all the short stories into one volume and added two other stories. I did this so that I could publish in paper back for all my sweet little great-grand daughters. I hope that y'all will enjoy these with your children and grand children as well. <br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
If you will scroll down in my blogs, you will be able to read the Forward and Book 1 of Enemy Mine. I hope you enjoy it and buy the book when it is released.<br />
<br /><br />
It isn't written in stone yet, but I hope to begin a Restaurant Review in the Gatesville Messenger, our small town newspaper. Even though this is a small town, I think folks would enjoy having a restaurant review. Anyway, we'll see.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
In the meantime, HAPPY READING.TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-33637678015081314092014-01-23T14:02:00.002-08:002014-01-23T14:02:59.777-08:00Hi y'all. I currently have three titles up on Amazon. <br />
<br /><br />
* The first is my vampire novel, number 1 of the AGELESS series, "The Vampire's Journals. Here is the cover summary for that novel:<br />
<br /><br />
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">In the year 1876, seventeen year old, Jason O’Dell,
finds himself hiding in a hollowed out tree, waiting for the angel of death to
take him. Instead, a monster of indescribable horrors reaches in to steal him
away. For the next one hundred and thirty-five years, Jason remains seventeen,
as the Baron feeds on him. It isn’t until the Baron’s death that Jason comes
into his own, realizing that he, himself, is a vampire.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Finding himself aged to fifty years in only two
months, Jason leaves his home in Colorado, picking up a hitch hiker, named Josh
Nelson. Together the two of them begin their travels, where they will learn to
be a family in the Baron’s castle in Germany. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Throughout the story Jason and Josh are met with
love and excitement and sometimes other vampires. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">M J Henry is a retired social worker in Central
Texas, where she cares for her two teenage grandsons. She has written numerous
short stories and articles with publications both on-line and in print. Ageless
is only the first in a series of novels about Jason and Josh and the family
they love.</span></span></div>
<br /><br />
You can purchase this first novel at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H5CDQ8O">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H5CDQ8O</a><br />
<br /><br />
<br /><br />
*The second of my titles is my novella, "The Trees Have Eyes". This is the story of the remnants of two Indian tribes that joined together as children to form a new tribe that built their homes in the protection of the trees. You can read this novella at: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H9YIJ1M">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H9YIJ1M</a>.<br />
<br /><br />
<br /><br />
*The third is a collection of my short stories. These stories lie mostly along the lines of tales you would expect to see on Twilight Zone or Outer Limits. Read my short stories at: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HB7YJIY">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HB7YJIY</a>. <br />
<br /><br />
Happy reading everyone.<br />
<br /><br />
M J<br />
TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-68972590552265509002014-01-23T13:50:00.003-08:002014-01-23T13:50:44.196-08:00Green River by Elizabeth Loraine<br /><br />
<div class="mbs _5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">
Green River is on sale. Please share! Only .99 for a limited time!<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Green-Shifter-Chronicle-Elizabeth-Loraine-ebook/dp/B00E3SYS9O/ref=sr_1_12?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1390356638&sr=1-12&keywords=elizabeth+loraine" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Green-Shifter-Chronicle-Elizabeth-Loraine-ebook/dp/B00E3SYS9O/ref=sr_1_12?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1390356638&sr=1-12&keywords=elizabeth+loraine</a></div>
<div class="_5ys3" data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div class="_5pao mvm _5pb0 _5wg_" data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
<div id="u_jsonp_27_19">
<a aria-label="Green River (a Shifter Chronicle)" class="_5pb3 _5dec" data-ft="{"tn":"H"}" href="http://www.amazon.com/Green-Shifter-Chronicle-Elizabeth-Loraine-ebook/dp/B00E3SYS9O/ref=sr_1_12?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1390356638&sr=1-12&keywords=elizabeth+loraine" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><div class="_5pao _5qeh">
</div>
</a></div>
</div>
</div>
TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-17289637840690860082014-01-09T06:24:00.003-08:002014-01-09T06:24:44.603-08:00KatrinaRean Elizabeth Lorraine's book (first of a new series) Katrina.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Katrina-Beginning-Royal-Blood-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B004K1EVY6/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1388539239&sr=1-2&keywords=elizabeth+loraine%27s">http://www.amazon.com/Katrina-Beginning-Royal-Blood-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B004K1EVY6/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1388539239&sr=1-2&keywords=elizabeth+loraine%27s</a>TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-81659393542821684442014-01-09T06:18:00.001-08:002014-01-09T06:18:06.229-08:00Read My Novella - The Trees Have Eyes<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H9YIJ1M">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H9YIJ1M</a> TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-69323904331746328322014-01-09T06:11:00.001-08:002014-01-09T06:11:07.907-08:00Read my first novel. AGELESS: The Vampire's Journals on Amazon for Kindle.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H5CDQ8O">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H5CDQ8O</a> TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-75281783962201042482014-01-09T06:09:00.000-08:002014-02-26T14:26:54.729-08:00AGELESS: Enemy Mine (Forward & Sample chapter)<br />
<h1 style="margin: 24pt 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></h1>
<h1 style="margin: 24pt 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #365f91; font-family: Cambria; font-size: large;">Foreword</span></h1>
<h1 style="margin: 24pt 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
would say that it has been five long years since first coming to Germany but
the years haven’t seemed long at all. It appears that the old adage ‘time
flies’ is more than true. Since we arrived here our family has grown and we
have made lasting friends and allies.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
stand here in one of my castle’s towers, looking out at the Inn River. On the
other side of this is Austria. The Inn River Valley is lush and green in the
spring and summer and in the winter it is iced with drifts of snow perfect for
taking the children on an afternoon of sledding and snowball fights. Not far
from here (about seventy-five miles or one hundred and twenty kilometers) is
the lovely city of Passau where the Inn and the Ilz rivers both flow into the Danube.
Passau, known as The City of Three Rivers, is one that I have come to love
visiting. Sitting in both Germany and Austria, it is to me the most beautiful
of all cities. The ivory walls of its buildings and the delicate foliage of all
colors, all bowing to the most beautiful of rivers, the Danube, steals my
breath away. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Josh
doesn’t agree with me about this lovely city. Although he enjoys Passau’s beer
garden, he finds it to be a bit boring there and will always prefer Munich. I
suppose this is because it was his first love here in Germany. I think Josh, as
well as the other adult members of our family, are enamored with the excitement
of the much larger city and all the many activities available there. I will, of
course, continue to conduct my business in Munich and visit there often, but I
am a man of more hushed desires and taste, so I savor my visits to Passau to
engage in some quieter past-times, such as listening to the noon time organ
concerts at Saint Stephan’s Cathedral or simply watching and painting the river
ships along the Danube. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">As
I stand here, contemplating my life in Germany, I think of my family and how it
has grown, both through new births and discoveries of brothers in the
Veldaksarten vampire bloodline. When word got out that there was a new baron of
the Veldaksarten line … and word did get out<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>… we began to see the Baron’s seed, and theirs, returning to his castle
by at least two to three a week. Those who came, pledging their allegiance to
me, had been living aimless lives without leadership or purpose. Before long I
found that I had no room to house them all and asked my brother, Kord, to begin
taking these orphans into his castle. Very soon after that I found it necessary
to erect barracks at both castles to house them all. I have found it to be well
worth our efforts, as we have both built ourselves fine military style militias
to protect not only our castles but the villages that surround us as well.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Now
the population of vampires at my castle outnumbers that of humans by five to one.
This is partly because many of the human staff already here requested to either
be allowed to help feed or to turn completely. Those who choose not to become
vampires know that they remain completely safe and protected under my rule. At
my brother’s castle the population is entirely vampire. This even includes the
tutors for Kord’s five children and the children of his staff.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
began by saying that I have made many lasting friends and allies but it must be
told that many of these had to be won and some will remain enemies forever.
Among my friends and enemies there are those who prefer to save their
allegiance to be offered according to the situation at hand. Sometimes when one
sees that there is an enemy more lethal than another, it becomes necessary to form
provisional alliances. Thus, the old war adage holds true; “The enemy of my
enemy is my friend”. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
feel that a note about the differences in the vampires in this novel may be
warranted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Veldaksarten vampire
bloodline is quite different from all others. Our father was an alien from
another planet; therefore we are not bound by any vampire rules made by those
here on Earth. We do share some characteristics with the other vampires, but
not all. We are super fast and super strong and we can fly. I don’t think other
vampires all fly, but then I’ve not met vampires from every bloodline yet; and
it seems that the Veldaksarten vampires are much faster and stronger than all
others. It may be that we are not really stronger but are just better trained.
I, like the Baron, insist that all under my rule train a minimum of two hours
every day. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Although
most people believe that vampires cannot withstand sunlight, just as the Baron
could not, for us daylight is not a problem. I don’t know why that is so unless
it is our human genes at work. So far all the vampires we have encountered are
day walkers, just as we are but I’ve heard of some lines that must remain
inside until after the sun has set. They will blister, burn, and even ignite
and burst into flames if caught in the sunlight.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Most
of the other vampires we have encountered are sustained fully by blood.
Although blood is important to our survival, we do not live by blood alone. We
also require well balanced meals to maintain proper health just as any other human.
The need for blood is important enough for us to require a working plan to
obtain enough blood for all of those in our castles. Fortunately the people in
the villages around us value our presence enough that they have taken it on
themselves to collect blood for our use. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">As
most humans believe, other vampires are made by being killed by a vampire. That
vampire feeds on the person and then feeds that person from his own veins in
order for the turn to be completed. With the Veldaksarten vampires, the master
feeds off his blood hoar for as long as he chooses. That person, although
becoming a partial vampire as soon as his master first feeds from him, does not
become a full vampire unless he feeds from another human. Once he has done so
he is unable to continue feeding his master. This is why Chloe never chose to
become a full vampire. She feels that it is her right to be the one to feed me
and I would never deny her that. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">For
most Earth bloodlines once the person becomes a vampire he never again ages. They
are unable to bear children and most feel it is wrong to turn a child. The
Veldaksarten line is quite different here. As long as the master feeds on a
person, that person does not age. As soon as the feedings stop, that person
will begin to age, just as I did. They will continue aging rapidly until they
reach the age they should be or they are able to feed. Anja was ancient when we
came to Germany. Although she had aged for lack of feeding, she continued to
live; but her body was so frail and brittle that she was unable to withstand
even the slightest touch. To stop the aging process the person must either have
a vampire feed from him on a regular basis or he must begin feeding from
humans, in which case he becomes a full vampire and requires human blood to completely
sustain himself. Our line is also able to regress in age by our feeding habits.
Amazing, don’t you think? And, we do bear children. Our children are born
vampires and age naturally until their later teens; therefore we must be
diligent and responsible in the rearing of them and teach them to control their
natural desires. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">All
other vampires I have encountered (not in the Veldaksarten bloodline) are
killed in the process of becoming vampires. Veldaksarten vampires are not dead.
At no time has anyone killed to create a vampire in my bloodline. When we kill,
that person stays dead. Because we are alive we are also limited in some
things; just as a human would be. We cannot submerge under water without proper
breathing apparatus, as Josh learned when we were preparing to dive for the
Baron’s ship, and I have the strangest feeling that if we were buried alive and
dug up a hundred years from now, you would find a very decayed corpse in the
coffin. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It
is said that there are only a few ways to kill a vampire. One way is to stab
the vampire in the heart with a wooden stake. Ouch. Of course that would kill
those of my lineage; wouldn’t it yours? Chopping a vampire’s head off is
another method of killing them. Ouch again. And yes, that would do it for us. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Please
understand that all vampires, here on Earth, including the Veldaksarten
lineage, were human first. If as a human the vampire was kind and good and
ethical, then as a vampire he should still be kind and good and ethical. If he
were religious he should still be religious. Becoming a vampire does not change
who one is inside. Such changes may come about due to circumstances, but I
hardly see how one would change from good to evil so easily. If that happens
there is likely more to it than meets the eye. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
</h1>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><h1 style="margin: 24pt 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #365f91; font-family: Cambria; font-size: large;">Book 1</span></div>
</span></h1>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">
<h1 style="margin: 24pt 0in 0pt;">
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Over
the past five years, our family has grown considerably. Chloe gave birth to our
beautiful daughter, Katherine in March of 2014. Two months later Josh and Ilsa
brought forth the dashing, blond haired, blue eyed, Jordan Nelson.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Josh
very quickly informed me, “Just don’t be getting any ideas old man. My son is
as off limits as I am … more so. Got it?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Now
Josh,” I told him. “I would never touch your child in that way. Not as long as
you remain so tempting.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Oh,
I must remember to tell you that Katharine’s last name isn’t Baron, nor is
mine. It seems that my sweet brother, Kord, could not accept my last name being
Baron.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Baron,”
Kord insisted, “was not our father’s name. It was his title. His name was
Veldaksarten. You name should be the same; just as mine is.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Veldaksarten
it is then,” I said to him and I had the name on all my papers changed to
reflect that.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Two
years after the birth of Josh’s child, Kord and Gretchen gave birth to two
children. Twin sons, Joshua Ryan and Jason O’Dell, now three years old,
terrorize the halls of both castles. Of course they are constantly aided by not
only their own brothers, Oskar and Garon, but five year old Jordan, as well. We
have chosen to call the twins Ryan and Dell.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Because
Kord and Gretchen now have plenty of staff to assist them and they have both
proven themselves to be well in control of their affairs, Ilsa has come home so
that she and her son can be with Josh all the time. They have taken an
apartment in the west wing of the castle. Anja’s apartment in the east wing was
remodeled for when Kord and his family come to spend time with us. Kord often
says that he thinks his mother still lives there with them, watching over them
and keeping them safe from intruders. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">There
is one other family addition that I am compelled to tell you about. This
happened about a year ago. Kord, Josh and I decided to take our ladies out to
dinner in Munich one Saturday evening and to stay at our private suite, plus
one, in the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten Kempinski Munchen so that they could spend
the weekend shopping. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">We
have found an excellent restaurant in Munich where we are able to relax in
total and private comfort. The staff here accepts the explanation that Kord has
a birth defect that has caused his talons and fangs. They have provided us with
a privately concealed booth where we may escape prying eyes and they make the
time spent with them well worthwhile.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">This
particular evening we had made reservations at our special restaurant for a
quiet dinner. We had taken one of the largest limos in our garage and Ulrich
and Timothy came along to drive and share the weekend with us. After parking in
the hotel garage, we had decided to walk to the restaurant. It was a beautiful
evening and the air was fresh and crisp. We were having a wonderful time when
Josh noticed an American Indian boy on the other side of the street. He
appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen years old and seemed quite agitated or
frightened. When Josh pointed him out to me, we stopped to watch him. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hey
Jason,” Josh said to me. “You know who that kid looks like?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes,
Josh,” I responded. “I know exactly who he looks like.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
boy saw us watching him about the same time a group of young men came around
the corner. They pointed at him and yelled, “There he is!” This sort of young
men and women had become common in Munich over the past several years. It
seemed to start when Chloe and I came to the hotel to interview a group of
‘vampires’ I had flown from the states to help guard my castle. We quickly
recognized that these were not vampires at all; only faux vampires … wannabes.
It became necessary to dispatch these, but we failed to warn them to say
nothing about our existence. Now it seemed that the city was full of them and
they were constantly making problems for both locals and tourists. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Now
the boy ran toward the only protection he saw available. I held out my arms and
he ran he ran to me. I quickly spun him around for my group to close in around
him. The imitation vampires who were pursuing him stopped in front of me.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Give
him up, old man,” the supposed leader of the group said to me. “If you don’t
give him up you’re going to get hurt.” He hissed and growled, assuming that his
aggression and long fangs would frighten me as they had the boy.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Of
course, Chloe reached out and grabbed the young man’s face, yanking his fangs
from his mouth and slinging them to the ground. His friends who had been
standing close behind him stepped back in startled amazement.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Now,
young man,” I growled, facing him and bearing my fangs. “What makes you think
that I would ever be frightened of you in the least?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
jumped back in fear as he was met, not only with my vampire snarl, but with
those of the other men in my group. Gretchen and Ilsa continued shielding the
boy, who clung to my back, as they attempted to keep him from seeing all that
was transpiring. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s
you!” The young man said with his friends standing in awe behind him. “You’re
the reason we’re all here!” He held out his arms in an expression of triumph.
“Wait till I spread the news that I’ve found you!”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It
was my turn to grab him by the face now; only my hand was much fiercer that
Chloe’s. “If you plan to tell anyone a thing, let it be this,” I growled. By
now a police officer had come on the scene and was simply standing by watching
our exchange. “My people and I are about to start cleaning this city up. Warn
your fellow faux vampires that by the end of this coming week, if we find even
one of your kind left in Munich, we will dispatch you ourselves. The good
people of this city should not be harassed with the likes of you.” I shoved him
back into his friends. “Now be off and let me never see you again. Warn the
others. Their lives depend on it.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
faux vampires ran as we stood watching. The officer stepped up and offered his
hand. “It will be nice to be through with all of them,” he said.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
do apologize, sir,” I said, taking his hand. “I should have done something to
dispatch them sooner.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">We
turned to continue on our way, taking the boy along with us. I took his pack
from his back and handed it to Josh. “Would you be so good and run this back to
the hotel, Josh?” I asked him. “We’ll wait up here at the sweet shop. The girls
can go ahead and get their purchases done while we’re there.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Josh
ran the pack to the hotel while we went into the shop. The boy seemed nervous
and he kept staring at me. I placed my hands on either side of this face and
examined him. His eyes were the darkest of black, his jet black hair hung to
the middle of his back. There was a feather braided into a section of hair on
one side. I recognized its markings from my studies of American Indian history.
It was Chickasaw. The boy only stood about five foot four or five; I know that
at that age I had been at least five seven or eight. Perhaps my height came
from my Irish ancestry. Still, if I didn’t know better, I would say that this
boy was the very same as the boy in the portrait hanging above the fireplace in
my study; the one that I painted so very long ago; the one of the Baron and
myself.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“What’s
your name, boy,” I asked, smiling at him.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Minko,”
he said.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Were
you by any chance named for KatoMinko of the Chickasaw nation? He lived around
1860 or so.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes,”
Minko smiled. “He was my great … not sure how many greats, grandfather,” he
said with a laugh.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
laughed as well and smiled wider at him. “I suppose, then,” I said to him. “I
am your uncle. Truthfully it would be your great grand uncle; and I’m not sure
how many greats that is either; four or five, I guess.” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Really,”
he said. “How?” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I’ll
explain it all to you later,” I promised him. I think he just couldn’t argue
the fact that I was indeed his uncle. Even he could see that he looked just
like me.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">About
this time, Josh returned and the girls were almost finished with their
shopping. In only a few minutes more we were on our way to the restaurant where
we had a delicious dinner.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
restaurant staff was waiting for us and had our booth ready. I had Chloe slide
in with Minko between her and I. Josh slid in next with Ilsa next to him. The
rest of our party slid in on the other side of the table with Kord directly
across from Minko. When Kord removed the hood of his cloak I thought Minko
might climb over me to get away, but I held him firmly in place until I could
calm him down a bit.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Take
it easy, boy,” I said. “He won’t bite. We got him trained now.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well,”
Kord teased. “I do still bite sometimes. But, only dumb Indian boys who try to
climb over people to get away from me.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko,
recognizing Kord’s attempt to joke with him, settled down and took a deep breath.
“I wasn’t trying to get away,” he said. “I just forgot I didn’t have my bow
with me. I was going to get it ‘cause I thought you were one of them wild Texas
boars that I hunt sometimes.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“You
think I look like a wild boar?” Kord asked.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Those
fangs do resemble the tusks of a wild boar,” I said and winked at my brother.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah,”
Minko agreed. “I got a lot of them tusks at home. We make necklaces out of them
and sell them to tourists that come through the reservation.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“You
live on a reservation in Texas?” Kord asked. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“No,”
Minko answered. “I live on the Chickasaw reservation in southern Oklahoma. I
got family all over Texas though. One of my uncles has a place down in Coryell
County and we go there to shoot hogs every year. I’d offer to take you
sometime, but I don’t think that would be such a good idea. They take one look
at them hog tusks of yours and you’d be sure to get shot.” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Ah,”
Kord said. “Perhaps I can take you hunting around my castle sometime. I’m sure
my people would love to hunt a little Chickasaw boy. You would probably be
quite tasty.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko
sank deep into his seat and almost melted into my arms. “I’m good right here,”
Minko said. “I might just hang with my uncle for a bit.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes,”
Kord said. “Hopefully he will be able to restrain himself around you. Actually,
when he has a hunger his fangs are longer than mine.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko
looked up into my face and I smiled enough for him to see my fangs. He again
tried to get free from the booth where he was literally pinned in but I held
him firmly and laughed. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“That
will be quite enough, gentlemen,” Chloe said. “You are scaring him to death.”
She then looked at Minko and stroked his face. “Dear child, you do know that
they are just joking with you, don’t you?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yes
ma’am,” he said. “But you got to admit that it’s a little scary sitting with a
couple of vampires.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“A
couple?” I said. “Did you really say that?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Yeah,”
Minko answered. “How many of you are vampires?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“We
are all vampires, at one stage or another,” Chloe informed him. “But you don’t
need to worry. No one is interested in hurting you. We just don’t do that.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Thank
you ma’am,” he said; his hand was shaking as he took a drink from his soda.
“It’s good to know.” </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">When
our food arrived we all enjoyed a wonderful meal. The girls had their favorite
veal dish and the men enjoyed plates full of mettbrotchen, with lots of
sauerkraut on the side and good German beer. Because I didn’t believe Minko
would enjoy the mettbrotchen I ordered him a dish that the management had added
to their menu especially for Josh and me. I ordered him a Texas burger with
seasoned fries. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Although
Minko was quite pleased with his burger, he was curious about my sandwich.
“What is that?” He asked. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Mettbrotchen,”
I replied. “It’s a raw meat sandwich. Very popular in Germany.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Seriously?”
He asked. “How can you eat raw meat?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I
thought you understood,” I said and I leaned in very close to his face. “We’re
all vampires. For us raw meat is delicious.” I allowed my fangs to show fully
and my eyes to blacken completely. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko
leaned away from me and as close to Chloe as he felt acceptable. “Aunt Chloe,”
he said. “He’s scaring me.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Chloe
slapped me on the arm and I exaggerated pain. “Behave yourself!” She snapped at
me.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko
laughed. “Behave yourself,” he said. “It’s easy to see who the boss is around
here.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s
true,” I said. “She lets me pretend to be in charge until she gets really
pissed at me.” I leaned close to his ear and whispered. “Then all hell breaks
loose.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko
stayed the night with us at the hotel and we talked for most of the evening. He
told us about his tribe and that his parents had both died in a car crash
several years ago. He had lived with his grandfather after their death until he
graduated. After graduation he decided he wanted to see the world. He had
already seen most of the U.S. on vacations with his parents, so he went to the Gulf
coast and got on a ship from Galveston to Europe. When he got off the ship in
Spain he began working his way across each country and backpacking as he
traveled. Things had gone smoothly until he arrived in Munich and became a
target for the faux vampires.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Wait,”
Ilsa stopped his dialog to question him. “Did you say graduated high school?
You must be so smart to have graduated at such a young age.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko
smiled at her and said, “No ma’am. I’ll be twenty this Christmas.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Even
though he appeared nervous about his decision, Minko decided to return to the
castle with us at the close of the weekend, saying that he would stay only a
few days. A few days turned into a few weeks, then months and eventually a
year. We still have no reason to believe that he will be leaving any time soon.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko
and Oscar really hit it off well. Even though Oskar is only thirteen he looks
older than Minko, so I believe they claim Oscar is a bit older. I really don’t
want to know exactly where they go that they need him to be older, but I have
no intentions of discussing this with my brother. When it comes to those kids,
I have learned to be afraid of him. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Since
Minko has a drivers license the two of them often go out together to have fun.
I think they always tell Kord that they are going hunting, but I’ve personally
dragged them out of some places that made me wonder what it was they were
hunting. They often laugh about using Minko’s license as ID for both of them.
People around our castles see that Minko is of legal age and don’t even ask to
see Oskar’s. I know; it’s scary and I’m a terrible uncle to keep it to myself. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Minko
also gets along well with Garon. He often let’s Garon go along with he and
Oskar when they are really doing what they say they are doing. I do believe
Minko when he says he won’t take Garon places he shouldn’t be. I think I
believe him because Garon is still at an age where he will snitch … especially
on his brother. As far as the younger children go … well, Minko doesn’t like
them much.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“They
bite,” he told me one day.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Bite?”
I asked with a nervous laugh. “I hope you mean that in a figurative way.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“No
uncle. They really bite. They are vampires and hell, little kids bite anyway. I
just don’t want them to bite me.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
assured me that he has been able to avoid their attempts at biting him so far
and I have scolded them and forbidden them to bite anyone. Now every time the
kids are around humans I always watch closely for fear someone will be bitten.</span></div>
</h1>
</span><br />
<h1 style="margin: 24pt 0in 0pt;">
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span></h1>
TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-67833957408055090052014-01-04T06:18:00.003-08:002014-01-04T06:18:25.739-08:00AGELESS: The Vampire's Journals by M J Henry at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H5CDQ8O">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H5CDQ8O</a>TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-11593397125256754562013-12-21T07:15:00.001-08:002014-01-09T06:02:43.965-08:00AGELESS becomes a series<br />
I've had a number of sales of my novel, Ageless: The Vampire's Journals. Now I am well into writing the sequel to that novel, Ageless: Enemy Mine. Be sure to be watching for this continuing story of Jason and his family as they forge alliances with the vampires of Europe. I hope you will enjoy my stories. Have fun and keep reading.TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-2797244357401420532013-12-13T15:30:00.002-08:002013-12-13T15:30:29.899-08:00New Publications<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have published on Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing. I currently have four titles:</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ageless: The Vampire's Journals </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dark Tales of Terror: Grandma Crow's Selected Short Stories -- Volume 1</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tales from the Dead Cat: Grandma Crow's Selected Short Stories -- Volume 2</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Trees Have Eyes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Look for these on Amazon at $2.99 each.</span>TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-80038634093713690982011-07-20T09:33:00.000-07:002011-07-20T14:12:17.944-07:00STAR CHASERS by MJ HenryHere are the first 2 chapters of my sci-fi novel, <strong>STAR CHASERS. </strong>I would love to know how you like it. Do the first 2 chapters make you want to read more?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">I.</div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">Strangers Meet</div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p><o:p> </o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Ah Dom sat hunched under the tree. It was dead; he felt as if he were dead, as well. It was cold and night fall was upon him. He had no clothes – nothing to warm him. His head had been shaved and he could feel the markings that had been branded into his flesh. They were feathered slashes that began at the top of his head and ran all the way down his right arm. He couldn’t understand why they would brand him this way and shave off his lengths of jet black hair. His hair had been a symbol of his status in the empire. He felt he was going to be sick. He heard a howling in the distance. He didn’t recognize the long, low lament. It was new to him.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">*</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The blue tick coon dog pulled taunt on his chain as he sniffed the air. He wailed loudly, over and over, until his master emerged from the small cabin. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What’s wrong, Cassidy?” The young man looked off into the direction the dog was straining towards. “You smell a coon, boy? You want to hunt?” Bow in hand, he released his dog and followed as the animal howled through the woods.</div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">*</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ah Dom heard the wailing sounds coming closer. He tried to conceal himself in some underbrush near the dead tree. He wanted to move further into the forest and out of this clearing he was in, but the howling was too close. Soon, the blue tick hound came crashing through the woods into the clearing. Without hesitation Cassidy leapt into the underbrush where Ah Dom crouched.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Cassidy nuzzled Ah Dom as if he understood the young man’s misery. Ah Dom sighed in relief, as he hugged the dog for warmth. Then, the man came, seeking his dog. “Cassidy,” he called. Where are you boy?” Ah Dom sank back into the brush in hope of not being seen, but the dog barked, and his master came to see what had been trapped. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What is it boy?” The man peered into the underbrush. His eyes met Ah Dom’s. He stared in awe of the stranger. Ah Dom’s aquamarine eyes were unlike any the young man had ever seen; they were so large and searching. The markings that covered Ah Dom’s head and limbs reminded him of the tats of some gang members he had known in prison; but, Ah Dom didn’t look like he belonged to any gang. He was small, not much more than a boy and his skin was so pale; almost albino. He heard sirens and realized that on the road circling his mountain, police were hunting for someone; maybe this someone. He removed his field jacket and helped Ah Dom up, placing the jacket around him. </div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">*</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Matt Brady noisily searched his cabin for his younger brother’s clothes. Jim had been<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>slender, like the stranger; maybe a little larger, but these clothes would do for now. He had packed Jim’s clothes in a box and placed it in the closet after he got out of prison. He remembered how Jim had been so happy when Matt agreed to move to their granddad’s mountain after he came home from Iraq. Then, like an idiot, Matt got into trouble and ended up in prison. Jim had been left there in the cabin alone. Matt never knew what exactly happened, but his little brother was dead and he hadn’t been there to do anything to stop it.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">He could hear a police car getting closer to his cabin. He hoped that they wouldn’t question the other young man’s appearance. Maybe the clothes would hide his looks enough to keep from drawing attention. He worried about the tats and the pale skin. He had tats and hoped they would think that this stranger simply had tats like his. Maybe they weren’t even looking for any one with tats. Still, he had more to worry about than just the tats. He had Ah Dom sit at the table, in the shadows, where he would be out of direct view of the door. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">A car pulled up outside. Matt removed his outer shirt, so that his tats would show around his wife beater under shirt. Maybe, he thought, if the cops were distracted by his appearance, they wouldn’t even notice his visitor. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">There came a knock at the door and Matt opened it. It was just one cop. He was a sloppy fat goober that Matt had seen in town before. This guy had some kind of power fantasy and was always trying to flaunt his authority. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Hey there, Officer Downs; what can I do for you today?” Matt said leaning against the door frame, hoping to block the view to the interior of the cabin.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Did you hear a crash earlier?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I heard something, but my dog was making so damn much noise I couldn’t much tell what it was.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Did you see anything?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Like what?’</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Sir, have you seen anything out of the ordinary tonight?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Naw, just a fat cop on my land.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Officer Downs appeared either angry or exasperated as he walked back to his car with Matt looking on. “Look,” he said turning back to Matt. “If you see or hear anything strange, call the local dispatcher. Is that okay? Will you do that?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh, sure; you bet.” Matt watched as the cop car pulled away. He turned back and looked at Ah Dom. “Yep, I’ll call them all right. I’ll just stick my head out this door and yell. Not my fault if they don’t hear me. Got no phones up here.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Matt sat down at the table, opposite Ah Dom. “You are one strange looking son-of-a-bitch. Where did you come from?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Ah Dom sat silently; glad to be in the warmth of the cabin. Matt stood and went to the fireplace where a pot hung over the logs. He took a bowl and spooned some hot chili into it. Returning to the table he placed the bowl in front of Ah Dom, and stretched his muscular arm out to snatch a loaf of bread off a nearby counter.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“You may as well get some food in you. I bet you’re hungry.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Ah Dom gratefully took bread and began dipping it into the hot mixture. He was ravenous. He wasn’t sure when he had last eaten. He remembered the cruiser; and then; nothing. He wasn’t even sure where he was. This humanoid helping him looked strange. His hair was long, not as long as Ah Dom’s had been before he was marooned on this planet, only about shoulder length; and this one’s hair was thick and wooly, like the Crevats on Hadat. Like the Crevats, his face was wooly as well, but rather than a wooly body, this man was branded all over like the slaves of Tanof. He wondered what sort of man this was. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“So, my friend what do I call you? I’m Matt. This here is my coon dog, Cassidy. You can call him Butch if you like.” Matt laughed at his own joke, expecting Ah Dom to get it. Ah Dom remained silent.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ah Dom wondered what language it was this creature spoke. He thought that he was familiar with the languages of all the slave planets in the galaxy. But this was new. Perhaps this wasn’t a slave planet at all. The other who had come earlier had no slave markings. He could be one of the masters. Ah Dom was confused. He had dedicated his life to bringing freedom to all slaves, of all planets, but this one was new to him. He had no idea what planet he had been stranded on. Was he even still in the Kadar galaxy?</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Are you going to tell me your name? Or do I have to name you?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ah Dom looked at Matt with puzzlement. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay then. I’m Matt. You got it? Matt.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Matt.” </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Good. And this is Cassidy.” The big dog laid his head on Ah Dom’s lap. “Cassidy,” Matt repeated.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Cassidy.” Ah Dom scratched Cassidy’s large head and tested his ability to communicate with this noble animal. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You and your master can help me, if you will.<o:p></o:p></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Cassidy perked his head up and whimpered. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We’ll help you. <o:p></o:p></i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Matt, didn’t recognize the exchange that took place between the two. He was just glad to see the stranger making an attempt to communicate.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Cassidy,” Ah Dom repeated.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Oh, you’re good. So -- now what about you?” Matt pointed at Ah Dam.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Ah Dom,” he said, pointing to himself. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well okay then, Adam. Good to meet you.” Matt held his hand out.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ah Dom, now Adam, looked strangely at Matt’s hand. He wondered what Matt was handing him, but he saw nothing. Cassidy whimpered again and Adam understood. This was a form of greeting. He took Matt’s hand in friendship.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Adam had made strange new friends, on a strange new planet, and he had been given a new name. Matt provided Adam with a place to lie down for the night. He called it a bunk. It mattered not to Adam. It was warm and comfortable. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">He didn’t know, or understand, why he had been removed from the cruiser bound for Kazar. He knew he had made enemies. There were many who wanted him dead because of his politics. Slavery was a very profitable business in the Kazarian Empire, but if Adam had his way, and he would upon the inauguration, it would be abolished throughout the Kadar galaxy. He knew that stranding him on some distant planet would be one way of silencing him, but he swore it wouldn’t work. He didn’t know, however, why he had been marked as a slave or why his long, jet black hair, the symbol of his Kazarian royalty, had been shaved. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As he lay down his head, he vowed to search out those who had stranded him and renew his rightful place in the empire. He was certain that his brother, Cy Dom, would be searching for him. After all, he was to be crowned as emperor soon. His brother wouldn’t allow the empire to be left without its emperor. But, for now ... he must rest. </span>He pondered these things as sleep over took him, in the home of his new friends, Matt and Cassidy.<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">II.</div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">New Day</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Adam awoke to a mixture of aromas. His stomach rumbled entreating him to search for the source of the savory essence. He rose from his bed, looking across the one room cabin. Cassidy sat expectantly awaiting breakfast. He whimpered at Adam. Matt stood by a fire, filling plates with food that promised to satisfy the palate.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Mornin’ Adam,” Matt said. “Come on and sit down. I’m a pretty good cook, if I do say so myself.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Cassidy whimpered again and Adam laughed.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What?” Matt was confused. “Oh well, come on and sit down.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Adam wasn’t certain what Matt had said, but he understood when Cassidy told him he was being invited to eat. He went to the table to enjoy the meal Matt had prepared.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“I got to go to town today,” Matt said. “I guess you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, though. I think you’ll be okay here with Cassidy. You two seem to have something going that I’m not being let in on anyway.” </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Adam was enjoying the food that Matt had given him. He had eaten foods similar to this on his home world of Kazar. Some of the more primitive villages served animal flesh. He didn’t remember it tasting quite this good though. Even so, the meal made him think of home. It seemed like it had been forever since he had seen home. Now he wasn’t certain if he would ever see it again.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Matt had finished his meal and grabbed the keys to his truck. “Look,” he said, “if you get hungry while I’m gone, there’s food here in the fridge.” He opened the refrigerator to show Adam the food. “Now, you stay here with Cassidy. I’ll be back soon. Okay?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Adam stared strangely at Matt. Cassidy looked at him and whimpered and Adam appeared more relaxed. Matt looked at the two and shook his head.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Just say okay,” Matt coaxed. “Okay, come on, okay.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Cassidy whimpered again. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Adam smiled and said, “Okay.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re learning,” Matt said. “I’m not sure who’s teaching you, but you’re learning. Oh well, I’ll be back soon.” </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He went out to the old ’65 Ford Ranger that sat in front of the cabin. This had been his granddad’s truck. Matt remembered when he and Jim were boys, coming up to the cabin to spend summers with Granddad. They had a lot of fun in that old truck. The black paint was so faded now that it looked as though it had none and before Granddad died, he had knocked quite a few dents into the old truck. Matt spent lots of time working on it to keep it running, but sometimes parts would be hard to find and he would have to rely on a little ingenuity and bailing wire. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Adam could hear the truck for several minutes after it disappeared down the heavily wooded drive. He closed the door and went back to his bunk where he lay down to sleep some more with Cassidy curled up beside him. The fresh mountain scents of pine and recent rain made sleeping a pleasure. </div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">*</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Junction was just a little town that never really grew out of the 50’s. A lot of the old shops on Main Street were closed and had been for years. When Matt arrived in town he noticed that there was much more activity than normal. Unlike most days, the streets seemed full. People were milling about, gathering in groups to talk and reading together from the local paper, a four page weekly that never seemed to have much to say. Military vehicles were parked up and down the street. State police were gathered at the local P.D. It was not a site he often saw in this sleepy little town.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Few people paid any attention to the rattling of the old truck as Matt pulled into an empty parking space in front of the store. A soldier was walking by as Matt got out of the truck. “Say there, can you tell me what’s going on?” Matt asked.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where you been? The solider said. “It’s all over the news. Grab a paper.” And he walked on.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Grabbing a paper wasn’t so easy. Normally he wouldn’t bother with this little rag, but now he checked all the boxes in hopes of learning a little about what was going on and maybe who Adam was. The boxes were sold out, so he went into the store to get his supplies. “You got any papers?” he asked when he went up to pay.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sorry,” the clerk said. “I don’t think you can get one anywhere. I never saw our paper sell out before and you should see how thick it is. I think it’s about twelve pages. It’s just freaky.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty weird, huh. Well, can you at least tell me what’s going on around here?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re kidding, you haven’t heard?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I live up on the mountain. No phones, no TV, not even a radio.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What about in that beat up old truck you drove in to town?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the clerk asked.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah, it’s got a radio,” Matt said. “Don’t work, but it’s got one.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh man,” the clerk said with a laugh, “you’re in a world of hurt.” Matt laughed with him and the clerk went on to give him the news. “Well, we had a space ship crash right up there on the mountain. You from up near the east ridge?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yep; I own the whole mountain.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well, you had to have heard something then,” the clerk said.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“There was all kinds of stuff going on up there last night. Officer Downs came up to my cabin and asked if I’d seen anything out of the ordinary. He never said that any space ship crashed though.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sounds like Downs,” the clerk said. “He doesn’t seem to think anyone needs to know anything. Look, I got my copy of the paper under the counter. Here, you take it. I read it already.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thanks,” Matt said as he gathered his supplies and he headed back to the truck.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>With his supplies in the bed of the truck, Matt sat for a few minutes to look at the paper before heading home. There were photos of a gleaming silver space ship, marked with a strange dragon-like creature across the hull. The story talked about the crash and two reptilian aliens that were found, dead, beside the ship. According to the article the ship and the aliens had been taken to the local Air Force base to be studied. It said that a resident near the crash site reported seeing someone, who appeared human, stumbling away from the wreckage.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The two dead aliens were officially reported to have been killed by a fairly large caliber hunting rifle. The eye witness stated that he has shot them because they were chasing the person he saw fleeing the ship. The reptilian bodies of the aliens had been found next to the ship, which showed no damage that they could tell, but they couldn’t get inside. The ship was one solid mass of metal with no apparent openings for doors or windows. There was no word about the human that was seen stumbling away. They hadn’t given up the search, but weren’t certain that there had been anyone. The local resident who said he saw someone had been drinking so he wasn’t considered a reliable source.</div><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">*</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Matt walked in the cabin with the supplies he bought in town. Adam and Cassidy had gotten up when they heard the rattling and clanking of truck. Adam sat at the table and Matt laid the paper in front of him. He studied the photos of the ship and of the two aliens. Even though the aliens were not human, it didn’t seem to surprise Adam. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Matt was sitting in a chair near the fire when Adam got up and walked over to him. Adam reached out to touch Matt’s head. “Whoa there,” Matt said. “What do you think you’re doing?” Adam reached for Matt again and placed his hands on either side of Matt’s head. He held tightly and closed his eyes. “What is this; some kind of Vulcan mind meld, or something?” Matt’s dark brown eyes grew large as he waited to see why Adam was doing this.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Soon Adam let go and opened his eyes. “Vulcan mind meld?” Adam said. “No, my friend. I just needed to learn your language. I’m sorry you feel I have brought trouble to you.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hey, I never said that,” Matt said.</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Adam pulled a chair over and sat down near Matt. “No,” he said, “but you were thinking it. Your newspaper says that they believe I am dangerous. Do you believe that?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You just sucked my brains and you don’t know what I believe?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Adam smiled. “Sucked your brains? You certainly have a way with words. I tried not to invade your thoughts too much. I only needed to communicate with you; to learn your language. Do you know where the Air Force base is that they took the ship to?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I know where the base is, but it’s a big place. I got no way of knowing where that ship is.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“If you can just take me there and leave me,” Adam said, “I can find the ship.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How will you find it?” Matt was skeptical. </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I have my ways.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay, so when you find it what will you do?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Go home.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What are you, a moron or something?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Moron? Not even close, my friend.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah, well, I haven’t decided if I’m your friend, but if I am, I’m sure not going to let you go to that base and get yourself killed, or dissected – no, they’d kill you <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">AND</b> dissect you.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You people are barbaric, aren’t you?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yep,” Matt said, grinning. “Now, what’s the plan?”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The plan is to go to the Air Force base, find the ship, and leave.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Not much of a plan.”</div>TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-70007440609228859272011-07-15T15:07:00.000-07:002013-09-30T07:16:00.584-07:00I AM PUBLISHED !!!!<br />
<br />
I have recently published 2 non-fiction articles. One is an article about Emily Dickinson and the other is a personal essay titled Road Picnic. To read my articles go to:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.fuelyourwriting.com/the-writing-spaces-the-reclusive-emily-dickinson/">http://www.fuelyourwriting.com/the-writing-spaces-the-reclusive-emily-dickinson/</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youandmemagazine.com/">http://www.youandmemagazine.com</a> <br />
<br />
I hope you will check these out.<br />
<br />
MJ<br />
<br />
9/30/13 As of this date I have a story in Good Old Days Magazine (12/2012) and my story Road Picnic has been published in an anthology titled Heartscapes, True Stories of Remembered Love, published by Spruce Mountain Press of Plainfield, Vermont. I'm still working to get some of the stories I have shared here published.<br />
<br />
MJTexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-6277861671547661162011-06-08T21:22:00.000-07:002013-09-30T07:25:39.756-07:00What's Been Happing with Strange RosesI've been working hard at working hard. I set some goals, namely to write a minimum of 5 pages a day and to read a minimum of 5 pages a day. Most days I exceed this by a bit and every once in a while I don't get much of anything done. When I get an idea I usually write until I have it finished. If I haven't missed anything it looks like I have written 6 flash fictions, 5 non-fictions, 5 children's stories, 17 short stories and am working on 1 sci-fi novel. <br />
<br />
One of the children's stories I wrote is at a friends who is an artist. She is working on the illustrations to go with it and together we will try to get it published. I have sent over a half dozen stories off either to publishers or to contests. So far I have had one rejection on a children's story I wrote with Highlights Magazine in mind. I wrote it from my Chihuahua's point of view. I thought it was rather clever. I did have one of my little flash fiction stories win a little contest in fanstory.com. That was my first win. Yeah!<br />
<br />
I plan to just keep writing. Even if I never get published, I love the process of writing. It is truly exhilarating. If I can learn enough about it, I might try self-publishing and e-books. From what I've read on the web-sites of such people as Amanda Hocking and others, it really seems like the way to go. She has recently made quite a bit selling e-books. I bought one of hers at a whopping 99 cents. It was extremely good. It was written for young adults (YA), so I guess that makes me a young adult. It could happen ... I'm only 61. Turn it around and I'm a mere child. The ladies in my water aerobics class think I'm a mere child. Of course most of them are in their 80's. <br />
<br />
I'll try to keep everyone posted. I go into FB at least once a week to post my current status and now I've started tweeting. Love you all and God bless.<br />
<br />
Here's a bit of an update. 9/30/2013 Wow! Time has really passed. I've had a lull in my writing and it was good to go in and re-read the goals that I set. I haven't met these goals much lately but I can always start over again. I know that God has given me a gift to write. I wonder about some of the strange things I write. Anyway, God made me uniquely who I am. I've written a new story, extra strange one for me and with some sex and language I don't normally use. I have it posted for one week only. Enjoy.TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0Gatesville, TX, USA31.4351645 -97.74391100000002631.381569 -97.793982000000028 31.48876 -97.693840000000023tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-71392697957953621692011-05-04T14:50:00.000-07:002011-05-04T14:50:02.205-07:00Sorry I haven't been posting any stories here in a while. I learned that if you post a story on a blog, like this, it is considered "published", and most magazines will not accept anything that has been previously published. For this reason I will post nothing here that I plan to send to a magazine. If I write it with intentions of publishing in a book, only, then I will post it here. <br />
<br />
I have one that I plan to put in a book called Tales from the Blue Dog Cafe. It will be a collection of weird stories told at a cafe in West Texas. We'll see how well I do with that. Anyway -- here is The Store. I hope you enjoy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">The Store</div><div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">By: MJ Henry</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I sat having some lunch and going through my notes, and older gentleman came and sat down at my table. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You seem pretty interested in all the strange stories people have to tell around here.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s what I write.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Would you like to hear one about our old grocery store and what happened to one woman there?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sure.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“OK … Well, back in the late 50’s, there was a six year old, blond haired, blue eyed girl named Betsy, who had quite a fright in our old store. They say she was picture of sweetness. Everyone loved her and remarked about what a pretty little thing she was. She was her mother’s only child and went everywhere her mother went. When Betsy’s mother decided to go to the store to purchase some groceries for the evening’s meal, Betsy was right there.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">They lived in a small town with only one store. The store was an old frame, two story building. The upstairs was where the store owners and Mother Agnes lived. The store itself was comprised of four aisles and one checkout counter. Off to one corner in the front of the store were the magazine and candy racks. This was always the first place Betsy would visit, while her mother would visit with Mrs. Smith, the owner’s wife.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Betsy sat looking at the most recent issue of McCall Magazine, searching for the Betsy McCall paper doll. She loved that she had the same name as Betsy McCall. Usually, if there was a new issue, her mother would purchase it. Then Betsy could have the paper doll and her mother could enjoy the articles and recipes contained within.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>‘Betsy?’ Her mother called after she and Mrs. Smith were finished visiting. ‘Do they have a new issue yet?’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Not yet, mommy.’ Betsy put the magazine back in the rack and went to her mother’s side. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">As they were shopping, this particular day, Betsy was self-absorbed and lost track of which way her mother turned. To her the store with its four aisles was enormous. She became frantic when she didn’t see her mother and ran to the next aisle. She turned the wrong direction, however, and went down an aisle where she saw an old woman standing with her back to Betsy.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The old woman turned and Betsy could see that she was eating some raw meat, blood dripping down her chin. ‘Hello, Betsy,’ the old woman said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Thirty years later, Betsy was still a picture of sweetness, with her blond hair and blue eyes. She was still a pretty woman, even in her late thirties – yet, she was so full of fear. It seemed she was never quite able to get over that fateful day when she met Mother Agnes -- face to face.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Now, as she visited her home town, and old friends, she decided it was time to face her fears at the old grocery store. She had been in therapy for years, but could never bring herself to re-enter that store. The store was long since deserted and stood in ruin. The windows were gone. The doors were gone. The people were gone.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Betsy stepped through the threshold, into what once was a grocery store. It had been a number of years since the town began to die. The Smith’s out retired and moved out of their upstairs apartment. They now lived in a small house on Front Street. Everything in the old store was covered with dust; the shelves were all empty. In the corner where Betsy once poured through McCall’s, she saw a stack of old magazines on the floor. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hmm, they’re McCall’s.” She looked at the pages of paper dolls littering the floor. ‘How funny.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Betsy turned her attention to the aisle where she once met “Mother Agnes”. Agnes was Mrs. Smith’s mother. She had lived with them for years – every since she lost Mrs. Smith’s father in an accident. They always tried to keep her upstairs, away from people, but with just the two of them it wasn’t always possible to watch her.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Seems OK,’ Betsy told herself as she continued down the aisle. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">There was nothing but dust and cobwebs on the shelves – once in a while she would see a stray can of some ancient food stuff. Suddenly she heard a slight rustling behind her. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Probably a rat -- or something.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">She ignored the sound at first, but it continued. Then it began to sound like a slurp, or a smack – like someone or something noisily eating their food. She turned to see what was making the sounds. There she stood, with her back to Betsy. Betsy gasped.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Mother Agnes turned to reveal a piece of meat that had been ripped from the carcass of some animal. She hungrily devoured the meat with blood dripping down her chin. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">‘Hello,’ the old woman said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">They say that poor Betsy has been in the state mental hospital every since. You want to know something really funny about all this?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“What would that be?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“Well, they ended up sending Mother Agnes to the same hospital.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The gentleman stood and walked away, chuckling to himself. I couldn’t help but muse over how odd this place and these people all were.</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-16419879635139352332011-04-10T20:22:00.001-07:002011-04-10T20:22:20.924-07:00<div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #990033; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 20pt;">Sabbath Day Devotion</span></b></div><div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">April 9, 2011<span style="color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I’m sure some of you have already read the following inspirational message. Over the years, I have read it at least four times – and each time it moved me to tears. I shared this devotion in March of 2009. By request, I am sharing it again today.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #000099; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 14pt;">Don’t Leave It On The Desk –</span></b></div><br />
There was a certain Professor of Religion named Dr. Christianson, a studious man who taught at a small college in the western United States. Dr. Christianson taught the required survey course in Christianity at this particular institution. Every student was required to take this course their freshman year, regardless of his or her major.<br />
<br />
<div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Although Dr. Christianson tried hard to communicate the essence of the gospel in his class, he found that most of his students looked upon the course as nothing but required drudgery.. Despite his best efforts, most students refused to take Christianity seriously.<br />
<br />
This year, Dr. Christianson had a special student named Steve. Steve was only a freshman, but was studying with the intent of going onto seminary for the ministry. Steve was popular, he was well liked, and he was an imposing physical specimen. He was now the starting center on the school football team and was the best student in the professor's class.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
One day, Dr. Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him.. “How many push-ups can you do?”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Steve said, “I do about 200 every night.”<br />
<br />
“200? That's pretty good, Steve,” Dr. Christianson said. “Do you think you could do 300?”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Steve replied, “I don't know... I've never done 300 at a time.”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Do you think you could?” again asked Dr. Christianson.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Well, I can try,” said Steve.<br />
<br />
“Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I have a class project in mind and I need you to do about 300 push-ups in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it,” said the professor.<br />
<br />
Steve said, “Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it.”<br />
<br />
Dr. Christianson said, “Good! I need you to do this on Friday. Let me explain what I have in mind.”<br />
<br />
Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, the professor pulled out a big box of donuts. These weren't the normal kinds of donuts. They were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited it was Friday, the last class of the day and they were going to get an early start on the weekend with a party in Dr. Christianson's class.<br />
<br />
Dr. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, “Cynthia, do you want to have one of these donuts?”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Cynthia said, “Yes.”<br />
<br />
Dr.. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a donut?”<br />
<br />
“Sure!” Steve jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Dr. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.<br />
<br />
Dr. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, “Joe, do you want a donut?”<br />
<br />
Joe said, “Yes.” </span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Dr. Christianson asked, “Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?”<br />
<br />
Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut. And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten push-ups for every person before they got their donut.<br />
<br />
Walking down the second aisle, Dr. Christianson came to Scott. Scott was on the basketball team and in as good condition as Steve. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. The professor asked, “Scott do you want a donut?”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Scott's reply was, “Well, can I do my own push-ups?”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Dr. Christianson said, “No, Steve has to do them.”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Then Scott said, “Well, I don't want one then.”<br />
<br />
Dr.. Christianson shrugged and then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">With perfect obedience Steve started to do ten push-ups.<br />
<br />
Scott said, “HEY! I said I didn't want one!”<br />
<br />
Dr. Christianson said, “Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks and these are my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it.” And he put a donut on Scott's desk.<br />
<br />
By this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Dr. Christianson started down the third row. Now the students were beginning to get a little angry. Dr. Christianson asked Jenny, “Jenny, do you want a donut?”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Sternly, Jenny said, “No.”<br />
<br />
Then Dr. Christianson asked Steve, “Steve, would you do ten more push-ups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?”<br />
<br />
Steve did ten. Jenny got a donut.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
By now, a growing sense of uneasiness filled the room. The students were beginning to say, “No!” and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks.<br />
<br />
Steve had to really put forth a lot of extra effort to get these push-ups done for each donut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.<br />
<br />
Dr. Christianson asked Robert, who was the most vocal unbeliever in the class, to watch Steve do each push up to make sure he did the full ten push-ups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. He sent Robert over to where Steve was so Robert could count the set and watch Steve closely.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Dr. Christianson started down the fourth row. During his class, however, some students from other classes had wandered in and sat down on the steps along the radiators that ran down the sides of the room. When the professor realized this, he did a quick count and saw that now there were 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.<br />
<br />
Dr. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.<br />
<br />
Steve asked Dr. Christianson, “Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?”<br />
<br />
Dr. Christianson thought for a moment, “Well, they're your push-ups. You can do them any way that you want.” And Dr. Christianson went on.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A few moments later, Jason, a recent transfer student, came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled in one voice, “NO! Don't come in! Stay out!”<br />
<br />
Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, “No, let him come.”<br />
<br />
Dr. Christianson said, “You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten push-ups for him?”<br />
<br />
Steve said, “Yes, let him come in. Give him a donut.”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Dr. Christianson said, “Okay, Steve, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a donut?”<br />
<br />
Jason, new to the room, hardly knew what was going on. “Yes,” he said, “give me a donut.”<br />
<br />
“Steve, will you do ten push-ups so that Jason can have a donut?”<br />
<br />
Steve did ten push-ups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down. Dr Christianson finished the fourth row, and then started on those visitors seated by the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each push-up in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. By this time sweat was profusely dropping off of his face, there was no sound except his heavy breathing. There was not a dry eye in the room.<br />
<br />
The very last two students in the room were two young women, both cheerleaders and very popular. Dr. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, “Linda, do you want a doughnut?”<br />
<br />
Linda said, very sadly, “No, thank you.”<br />
<br />
Professor Christianson quietly asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn't want?”<br />
<br />
Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow push-ups for Linda.<br />
<br />
Then Dr. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan and said, “'Susan, do you want a donut?”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Susan, with tears flowing down her face, began to cry. “Dr. Christianson, can I help him?”<br />
<br />
Dr Christianson, with tears of his own, said, “No, Steve has to do it alone. I have given him this task and he is in charge of seeing that everyone has an opportunity for a donut whether they want it or not. When I decided to have a party this last day of class, I looked at my grade book. Steve here is the only student with a perfect grade. Everyone else has failed a test, skipped class or offered me inferior work. Steve told me that in football practice, when a player messes up he must do push-ups. I told Steve that none of you could come to my party unless he paid the price by doing your push-ups. He and I made a deal for your sakes.”<br />
<br />
“Steve, would you do ten push-ups so Susan can have a donut?”<br />
<br />
As Steve very slowly finished his last push-up, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 push-ups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Dr. Christianson turned to the room and said, “And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, on the cross, said to the Father, 'Into thy hands I commend my spirit.’ With the understanding that Jesus had done everything that was required of him, he yielded up his life. And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten.”<br />
<br />
Two students helped Steve up off the floor and to a seat, physically exhausted, but wearing a thin smile. “Well done, good and faithful servant,” said the professor, adding, “Not all sermons are preached in words.”</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Turning to his class, the professor said, “My wish is that you might understand and fully comprehend all the riches of grace and mercy that have been given to you through the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. God spared not his only begotten son, but gave him up for us all, for the whole Church, now and forever. Whether or not we choose to accept God’s gift to us, the price has been paid.”<br />
<br />
Wouldn't you be foolish and ungrateful to leave it lying on the desk?</span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #990033; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 14pt;">For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only</span></i></div><div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #990033; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 14pt;">Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have</span></i></div><div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #990033; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 14pt;">eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world</span></i></div><div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #990033; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 14pt;">to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.</span></i></div><div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "serif";">John 3:16-17</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div>TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-9714207345411694482011-04-02T10:49:00.000-07:002013-09-30T07:32:35.721-07:00Did You Hear The Sunrise?The following isn't one of my strange stories. I was going through some stuff from back in college and found a couple of copies of the Balorian. That was the college literary magazine that I worked on, as an editor. Among the things that I had published in the Baylorian, was this poem. I read it ... and I still like it. So, here it is ... I hope you like it too.<br />
<br />
<br />
By: MJ Henry<br />
<br />
Did you hear the sunrise this morning?<br />
Such a lovely sound.<br />
One must truly listen,<br />
To hear the sun expound.<br />
<br />
Were you quiet and reverent,<br />
As the day it did unfold?<br />
Did you pay close attention<br />
To the story that was told?<br />
<br />
Come, sit on the hillside<br />
Early in the morn.<br />
Wait and listen as the sun comes up.<br />
One can hear the growing corn.<br />
<br />
The spider sitting on the rock,<br />
Waits and listens too.<br />
He listens to the morning songs<br />
And drinks the morning dew.<br />
<br />
The humming bird stops his flight<br />
To wait so very still,<br />
As the sun begins to peek<br />
From over yonder hill.<br />
<br />
The morning sun reaches out<br />
With all his shining rays,<br />
Gently nudging all who sleep<br />
To rejoice in this day of days.<br />
<br />
One can hear the joyous sound<br />
In this special sunrise,<br />
For the news that shall unfold<br />
Of this day and what it shall comprise.<br />
<br />
As you look upon all things,<br />
Listen close to the sunrise song.<br />
Take joy in the song that it sings<br />
Of the One to whom we belong.<br />
<br />
And if you listen very well<br />
I'm sure that you shall see,<br />
In the brightness of His light,<br />
The One who died for me.<br />
<br />
Did you hear the sunrise this morning?<br />
Did you hear every sound?<br />
Just listen to the songs of nature,<br />
To hear what God expounds.TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-68933155547724033502011-04-02T09:36:00.000-07:002011-04-02T09:36:30.363-07:00WOW! I have been really busy. I have been writing so much lately that my hands are beginning to cramp up on me way too much. I now wear my braces day and night. They do help. I take them off when I go to the pool. The water is so good for all my achey body parts. The hot tub is the best. <br />
<br />
Well, it's time to get to work now. These stories won't write themselves.<br />
<br />
MJ<br />
<br />
P.S. BTW, I was thinking about posting one that needs a lot of work to see if anyone would like to give some suggestions. I haven't made up my mind about that yet. We'll see.TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1541634454833141195.post-48164491215169471262011-04-02T09:31:00.001-07:002011-04-02T09:31:45.793-07:00I am currently working on new materials. I will post again as soon as possible.TexasRosehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08267761639582926244noreply@blogger.com0