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Friday, July 4, 2014

Children's Stories not for children #56, I Was An Accident

Did you know that Willodean Ferris has a sister? I had no idea! The only reason why I found this out was she introduced me to her . . .

I was in my kitchen making a cherry pie when someone knocked at my door. “Oh, now who is it? I swear, every time I start a project, someone either calls me or stops me from preparing my dinner.” This, of course, was said under my breath, because the door was right off my kitchen, and I had my window opened as well.  So, I wiped off my hands, and plastered a smile on my face.

“Hey Charlese! I hope I didn’t disturb you!”

You always do, but don’t let that stop you. I thought to myself, still smiling though!

“No, no . . . you didn’t, come on in.” I held the door open for her and someone else that looked remotely similar to Willodean.  Could she be . . . no, Willodean would have said something to me about having a sister a long time ago.

As we stood in the kitchen, it was becoming sort of awkward. No one was saying or introducing, so I just jumped in.

“Hi there, my name is Charlese and you are?” I held out my hand toward her.

“Hi, um, my name is Raylene, Raylene Ferris.” And she shook my hand. Now when you shake a person’s hand, mean it. Don’t be passive about it. Lord, Gran would moan and complain after church if someone greeted her with a dead fish. That is a hand shake where someone doesn’t grab your hand back, just holds it out there for you to squeeze. It’s the worst feeling ever! Almost if their saying I’ll go along with the action, just don’t expect me to mean it.

I had to stop for a moment. Think what she just said, Raylene Ferris.  “You . . . are you Willodean’s sister by any chance?” Please don’t let there be two of them, please God.

“Why, yes, how did you know?” Sweet, sweet, Jesus . . . she is exactly like Willodean. Proceed with caution.

“Because your last name is Ferris.” Ring a bell yet?

“Oh, sure, sure. I’m so dumb!” Then she snorted. Charming.

Now, Raylene , in what I just saw, is like her sister.  She’s dumber than a box of rocks, but I will say, she has her own fashion statement. Yes she did, and it screamed for help. She wore a pair of jeans, slightly baggie, and they were clean, neatly pressed too, but had chartreuse whales all over them. Now her top was the same color as the whales, long sleeved, and she buttoned all the buttons . . . up to her neck.  It was eighty-nine degrees outside! Now her hair was like Willodean’s, in that it was brown, but short and wispy. She also wore glasses, black ones. Big black ones, she looked like a bug in heat. What struck me was that she wore no shoes, just bare feet. It’s gonna be a long day, I can just tell.

I gave Willodean a look that said, why didn’t you tell me you had a sister? And Willodean played back the same look I gave her. Yeah, a real long day.

“Sit down here at the table, would you like something to drink, maybe have some cookies, and while we’re at it, why you never told me you had a sister?” I just blurted it out. When it comes to Willodean, you sometimes have to be that way if you want to stay sane.

“Oh, I don’t know, you never asked! I’d like some lemonade if you have some! Ray Ray would you like some too?” Ray Ray?

“Why would I ask such a question when you gave me no reason to ask it?” I took out three tall glasses and got the lemonade out of the fridge and poured.  “Here.” As I sat them down on the table a tad bit forcefully.

“You alright Charlese? You look a bit tense. Something bothering you?” She really didn’t have a clue in that pea size brain of hers.

“Sorry, I’m fine, just tired, and hot. So what brings you here?”

“I came to introduce you to my sister of course! You are silly today. I don’t think you’re fine at all. I mean, you never met my sister, so I brought her over here, and, well, it’s like you don’t even have a clue! It’s real simple, especially when you never saw her before and . . .”

I grabbed her hand just then. I couldn’t take it anymore, it was like one long run on sentence, with too much repetition, that it didn’t know when to stop, and I had to stop it!

“Fine. Thank you for the introduction. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Like what are your . . .”
“I was an accident.” Houston we have lift off!

I looked at her, then Willodean, who wasn’t shocked at all. In fact, she had a big smile on her face, as if; she just farted and was pleased with the after effect.

I had to say something; this was too rich for words to ignore. “I beg your pardon?”

“I was an accident! You know, not planned. I guess Mama and Daddy in their lust for one another wasn’t careful and, well, here I am!” Well, she was pleased as punch, so was Willodean! I on the other hand was in shock!

I wanted to be a Psychologist just then and say, “And this doesn’t upset you? You’re ok with knowing this?” So I did!

“Your parents just came out and told you, you were an accident, just like that? I mean, I’m sorry and all, but I’d be somewhat upset if I were told that I was an accident. You seem to ok with it, are you?” I couldn’t imagine the thoughts that were trailing in her tiny mind, well, I had somewhat of a clue, which wasn’t telling me much, but still.

 I didn’t wait for her reply, couldn’t wait for her reply.“Well . . . “and took a long slug of my lemonade, “. . . I guess that’s just great. Yup . . . great! Gosh, I’m tired; I think I’ll go to bed. Thanks for coming over and it was a real pleasure meeting you!” I rushed them out so fast, neither of them had a chance to say anything, not even kiss my foot.  I didn’t know what else to do!  I really didn’t! How does one continue with this topic?

They must have thought I had lost it, rushing them out like that, wanting to go to bed. I mean, shoot, it was still morning! Well now, I guess that evens us up! With that thought in mind, I sat back down at my table and finished my lemonade with a smile.

Moon Doggies Apocalypse

It was one of those hot days, the kind where you don’t want to do anything but lay around, and that’s what I did, only on a beach. I had on my white bikini with the red polka dots, which looked really good next to my tan, and I was wearing my Foster Grants.

The beach was packed full of families, lovers walking hand in hand, and of course, those that love to play volleyball.  It was a great day to be had by all, until . . .

“Well, look what the lake washed up. I was wondering what smelled so bad.” The voice was nasally, cringing on irksome. Lydia Hankshaw.

I opened my eyes and got the shock of my life. Not only did Lydia have on a swimsuit, I’d say the swimsuit had Lydia. It was bright green, with netting that covered her cleavage, not by much though. It snug in places that couldn’t be snugged, which then jutted out other body parts. It was a mess no doubt about that. She also wore one of those beach hats, with the wide brim and rainbow sunglasses. Look out Tara Banks Lydia is on the runway!

“Why, good morning yourself.” I said sweetly.

“I didn’t say that!”

“I know, but that’s the difference between you and I. I have class, you don’t.  Now, if you don’t mind, you’re blocking the sun.” I was beaming from within.  I finally told that bitch what for.

She took off with her big butt swaying in the sun.  Whoever came up with the line, “Put it where the sun don’t shine” got it all wrong, because the sun sure found itself on her behind.

After she had gone, I went back to sun bathing, while the noise of those having fun calmed my frazzled nerves.  It’s very rare for me to be here, I mean, I’m always working and when I’m not, I’m working at home. If you got time to lean, you got time to clean my Gran always told me.

An hour had gone by without a scuffle, and I was starting to get a bit warm.  Sitting up, I noticed the water was mighty inviting. So, I got up and started to walk on down when I ended up running toward the water.  The sand, from baking in the sun was so hot, my feet were burning! I ran right in, forget the inching in style, I needed cooling off in a big way!

Ah . . . the cool water bathed my sore feet, and the deeper I got the more refreshed I became. It was truly satisfying. I was now up to my waist when I sunk the rest of me under, it almost took my breath away, but boy oh boy, it was doing wonders for my soul.  I just stayed there, my head the only visible part of me, and I watched while others were playing games, swimming with their inflatables, or just doing what I was doing . . . people watching.

Just as I thought things couldn’t be better, they weren’t. A scream out of nowhere filled the air. Was someone drowning, was there a shark attack? Shark attack . . .

“Excuse me, pardon me, excuse me . . .” I wadded back to shore as fast as my little legs would carry me, but you can’t move fast while in the water. It was like trying to run in a bog, and it’s next to impossible to run in them things. I’ve tried it. Yup, Chester and me were hunting alligators with his Uncle Jimmy Nell when we caught one. It was 400 pounds and talk about your thrashing! It was twirling and twirling and they had a terrible time with it. Well, I got up to get out of their way, when I tripped over the wire.  I lost my balance and fell overboard! Man, you never saw anyone try to get back into that boat like I did. I felt like I was moving in slow motion.  The thought of that alligator coming at me was enough to give me a heart attack.  Anyway, I did make it back in and Chester, along with his Uncle, killed it and ended up getting paid a mightly big sum.

Back to the screaming─

I got back to the shore just in time to see people scrambling all over the place, screaming and yelling to beat the band. It was like a wild animal was loose or something, and everyone was trying to get away from it ─ it wasn’t an animal, but something was coming after people. It was person, I think, but nobody ever looked like this one.  He was tall, well built, ugly as sin, and smelled just as bad, if sin had an odor. His swimming trucks were not altogether there. Parts of him were hanging out and I must admit, he did have something worth smiling about. What was wrong with me? Here I am, watching a true life Zombie Apocalypse right before my very eyes, and I’m getting heated over some stinking guys junk. Where are my scruples?

As I stood, motionless, I hadn’t noticed that Zombie ‘Moon Doggie’ had spotted me, and decided to make my acquaintance.  That was my exit cue, so I took off, but again, have you ever tried to run in the sand, fast? And did you know that Zombies could run fast? All the Zombies I ever saw, walked like they had dookie in their pants, but not my Moon Doggie, his were . . . enough. I tried as best as I could, but it wasn’t enough.  Next thing I knew he had grabbed hold of my ─ bikini bottom, that’s when I stopped.  No way, no how was I gonna keep on running only to have my panties torn off of me. Seeing how his were almost off, I didn’t want to give him any ideas.

What do you say to a Zombie, other than scream? So I swatted his hand. “Get your damn hand off my swimsuit.  Bottom just didn’t sound right, again, didn’t want to give him any ideas. He just gave me that dead stare, but he drooled. Charming ain’t he? “I said; get your hand off my swimsuit, now!”  He then smiled. 
When he opened his mouth to speak, I swore a fly came out.  Now, that’s just gross.

He coughed, didn’t know they could, and said, “Annette?”

Did I hear him correctly, or did he just call me Annette? “I beg your pardon?”

“A-Annette?” And pulled me in closer.

I thought so. “Hunny, I ain’t your Funicello, my name is Charlese.” Why am I introducing myself?

“No, you Annette, come . . .”

I almost got him loose when behind him came a group of other charming fellows.  All of them beefed up to the max, not a one looked like the zombies I’ve seen on TV. These were masculine, beefy guys, hunkered up for battle and like my Moon Doggie, half dressed.

“Uh, you’ve got company.” I motioned for him to look, which he did, but then looked at me in fear. I had to ask myself this, but why would anyone be afraid of his own kind?

“Trouble!” Was all he said.

“Yeah, I know, why are you telling me that? Aren’t they your buds?” Damn, if I’m not dealing with a two year old.

“No! We fight! My girl!” Then started to drag me toward them.

Then it hit me, Blanket Beach Bingo, are these zombies reenacting the 1965 movie? I’ve got to be having a nightmare. Must have been that Fish Taco I ate last night, looked good, but tasted like it should have stayed in the ocean.

“Stop. Stop! Stop! I ain’t fighting no zombies, and I sure ain’t your girl either. God . . . or whoever may have endowed you handsomely, but that don’t mean I love you. Besides, this ain’t a movie that’s going on here, more like a nightmare if you ask me! I don’t know where you guys came from, but I’m leaving, and take your stinking hands off me!” I jerked my hand out of his so forcefully his own hand came off. I screamed.

“Sugar! Come back!”

I just kept on running all the way back to my blanket, got my stuff, and headed for my car. As the engine came to life, I noticed all the zombie guys waving at me. This is so weird! I waved back as I high-tailed it out of the parking lot.

A mile down the road, I felt better, but not completely. It was a complete nightmare; I never, ever dreamed that something like that could ever happen, on TV yes, real life, no. I needed some noise to take my mind off what had just happened. When I switched on my radio the song, These Are The Good Times, by Frankie Avalon came on . . . it was from the movie Beach Party Bingo ─ deja vou.

Friday, June 13, 2014

The Writing Has Started!

I have started writing the third and final book of my Birthright series, Kane.  It is about how Kane came to be in his short life as human.  His journey that brought him to Utica, in his need to find himself, start a new life and perhaps . . . marriage, but if any of you know, those of you who have read my first two books, knows what happens to him.
I've re-written chapter 1 three times now.  My muse has finally came back from vacation, for I have written what I am to believe something quite thrilling so far.  As in my other books, where cliff hangers were at the end of every chapter, so too are they in Kane.
I'm thinking this one won't be as long as the others, but who knows, it could be longer!  Either way, fans, I am writing the last book.  The sound of that sounds so depressing, "the last book".  I'm trying to figure out what my next book would be about, not sure yet, I do want it to be fantasy.  I had started a book many years ago, and never finished it, so maybe this would be my next adventure. It's about three girls whose birthdays fall on the same day, but long before their births a book was written, about them, about the trials their town and of others who they must save.  Each one having been born with a power, but on their 16th birthday are given a ring that enhances that power.  Sort of a modern day Lord of the Rings type story.  Takes place in Ireland.  What do you think?
I'll keep you posted!  Keep dropping by!

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Another Lesson Learned

Being an artist/author, has its downs and ups.  I've been rather busy, trying to get my last and third book written, illustrating a children's book and lastly, designing book covers for a Indie Publishing Press.

Now, I have written many things about what to look out for in the writing world, publishers, etc., but I have not written anything about the artistic aspect of the business.  It too, has its drawbacks.

I recently was taken on with a Indie Publisher, one of who I will not name only because I have yet to hear back from them, which is why I left them in the first place . . . lack of communication. I don't know much about how the publishing press itself holds itself toward the creation of the book cover.  What I mean is, how much of an input do they really have in their book covers.  As it stands, I had always worked with the authors and not the people within the publishing press. Stands to reason wouldn't you think that the author would be the one you would work for, seeing how it is their book you are creating the cover for, but this was not to be true according to this publisher.

First of all, when I applied for this Publishing Press, I was told that they would get back to me within 4 to 5 days. . . it took them two weeks before I heard anything back from them.  I figured they didn't want me and this was their way of telling me.  So, a red flag went up when I did hear from them wanting me (should have listened to my red flag).

So, I got the position, started with my first cover.  Now, cover artists get paid $50 for their work, $25 for taking on the job and $25 for when the cover is finished.  Fourteen Days, was the book I was designing for and I was becoming very frustrated with it, for I had already done this cover fourteen times, maybe more and the publisher still didn't like it, author did, but I'm not suppose to converse with them, because according to this publisher the author really doesn't know what he/she wants . . . "excuse me?"

Well, I got that cover done, but when it came time for the next one, again, the following week I was to get my next assignment.  Two weeks into waiting and I write again, so I finally get a response.  Now, with this Publisher, they send you all the information about the storyline, information from the author as to what he wants in the cover (I thought authors didn't know what they wanted?).

I read the information thoroughly, and started in, what then happened was that my cover wasn't what the Publisher was asking for, even though that's what was asked of me to do with it . . .

To end this she apologized to me for the mis-communication and if I liked the cover she had concocted up with, then it would be fine, and that she'd give me another one to assign.  She did, but what she was asking she didn't have the images for and I wasn't about to spend any more money buying my own images, when they have a database full of usable images.

Yeah, I had to buy some images, because the Publisher wasn't getting back to me when I was requesting images for the book cover.  So, I quit.

So, authors, if you go into an Indie Publishing, make sure you have most of the input as far as how you want your book cover to look like.  I think it's weird that the publisher has sole creativity in that department, makes no sense at all to me.  I really should have listened to the bells and whistles that were going off in my head when I started working for them.