Time to talk anthology...

Big news, my wife and collaborator Helen just got hired on by the county so she will be working in the same building as me and sharing the long commute.  With her being hired, we are now looking towards possibly moving again and are already doing some packing here and there. Plus she is still taking a couple of intense college courses. This leaves both of us less time to write, especially in her case.

However, the anthology was 95% finished with only 2 stories incomplete. We've decided to drop those from the release and go ahead and publish the anthology with 23 stories, six of which are brand new. We're sticking to the 12th Night of Christmas release date.

In the meantime we're looking for Beta-Readers for feedback and to spot any problems with the collection. Unlike our previous novels which weighed in at 100K words, this volume is about 60,000 words in length. If you are interested in being a Beta-Reader please let us know in the comments section below.

A Halloween Tale From Our Upcoming Anthology

*Helen and I agreed that this particular snippet from "The Vampyre Blogs - One Day At A Time" was just perfect for this time of year.  While it does not cover the entire story, this particular section seemed just right for the holiday season.  And as with many of the tales you'll find in this collection, we start laying down the foundation for other stories down the road.  We do things like this because we want the Para-Earth Series to be open-ended.  There is no specific ending in mind, however there will eventually be closure for some of the characters, but not for a long time to come.  We're generating new ideas all the time for existing characters as well as ones you've yet to meet.  So rest assured no one is going anyplace just yet.  However, there are also untold stories form earlier years like this one.  So sit back and enjoy an adventure from Lisa and Marisa's childhood...  

HALLOWEEN FRIGHT (2007)

by Helen Krummenacker

Two giggling girls, nine years old, were getting to trick or treat on their own for the first time after solemnly swearing to their parents that they would stick together with the buddy system, not go into any houses, and stick to familiar streets. And Marissa and Lisa really meant  it, too, when they gave their word.

But once they’d gotten their sacks more than a quarter full, they were starting to feel like the main part of town was a little bit boring, even with decorations. Marissa’s mummy bandages were meeting with confused remarks by neighbors who were more familiar with hospital dramas than ancient Egypt, nor did Lisa’s top hat and cape read as Mr. Hyde as much as “Abe Lincoln, maybe?”, killing some of the fun of dressing up. Toddlers and their parents,  surrounding them on the streets,not only slowed them down with small talk, but stifled any real delightful shiver of uncertainty.

“I know a place,” said Lisa, “where there’s probably no one home, but it would be fun to explore.”

“What do you mean?” asked her best friend.

“Well, I know the owner, but he doesn’t live there. The place has been empty for years,” she told Marissa, savoring the word ‘years’, drawing it out for emphasis. “I don’t mean go in, but there’s woods and a little cemetery--”

 “I am NOT going to a cemetery on Halloween night! The place sounds creepy.”

“That’s what makes it fun!”

Marissa grinned quickly, thinking of all the spooky old films she loved. “Yeah.” She thought about it. “How about we get our bikes and go there, but we stay in sight of the road when we’re there and don’t stay too long.”

Lisa nodded. “Sounds smart. But it’s really not going to be too scary. I mean, sometimes things that seem scary at first turn out not to be.” She couldn’t really explain her Uncle Nathan, but it didn’t seem like anything associated with him could turn out bad. After all, he was a vampire… and the sweetest grown-up she knew.

Marissa was enjoying the chill of the air on her face. “It’s beautiful out here.” The moon was overhead, the trees rustled mysteriously, and the scent of pine, cedar, and birch tinged the breeze. “I thought there were a bunch of old mines on this side of town, though. It’s pretty hilly out here.”

“Yeah, I think there were some old ones.” Lisa tried to remember what Nathan had told her. “They used to have a small one on the estate we’re going to, that just took out coal to sell in town in the old days. People used it in their stoves. It closed for a while, but then it was opened during World War II by government order, for industry.”

“How do you know this stuff?”

“I told you, I know the owner. He’s a family friend, basically. And he’s the last of his family, so sometimes he gets, what’s the word… nostalgic.”

They saved their breath to pedal their way up a long uphill stretch. At the top, Lisa stopped to let Marissa catch up. She pointed, “See, you can see the house past the field. I guess they kept this area cleared.”

“Someone’s got sheep grazing there,” noted Marissa. “Sheep aren’t very scary.”

“Does that mean you want to see the cemetery?”

“No! … Maybe.” They nudged each other, shoulder to shoulder, before taking off down the hill towards the big old house that stood under the moonlight, darker patches where the pale paint had flaked off, vines growing onto the expansive porch, trees beyond with branches scant of leaves, many already lost to the aging fall.  

It began to feel quite spooky again as they drew closer to see more detail. Faded velvet curtains could be seen through dirty windows. The wind in the trees made suggestive rustling sounds. The creak of their own pedaling could be footsteps on an old, loose floorboard from the rooms above. The girls got off their bikes as they reached a grass-overgrown gravel path leading around the house and began to walk the path, pushing the bicycles by the handlebars, trying not to let the gravel crunch too much under their feet.

It’s not that I’m scared, Lisa told herself. It’s just that it doesn’t seem right to be noisy here. Like being in a library or a museum. It was a matter of respect.

Something cold and clammy touched the back of her neck and she squealed before she could think.

“What is it?!” Marissa whispered, worried.

“A drop of cold water. It fell off of the eaves.”

Indeed, the cool night air was producing condensation and the trees and overhangs slowly, almost silently, loosed accumulated moisture without sparing any thought for the nerves of passers by. “We’re being ridiculous,” Marissa said a little louder. “Thinking drops are a clammy finger or that the gravel is tiny bones crunching under our feet. It’s just an old farm no one lives in anymore.  We drive past places like this all the time.”

“Not just like this,” Lisa said defensively. “There was a terrible tragedy here.” She wondered briefly about Marissa’s mention of the gravel sounding like crunching bones.  Someone was getting carried away by their imagination, and that someone was not her. “During the Civil War, you know West Virginia and Virginia were on different sides. And the Virginians were very angry about it. There was this point during the war when a mob crossed the border and they killed a lot of people here.”

“I did not want to know that.”

Lisa realized the fun was starting to go out of this for Marissa. “It’s okay. It happened so long ago. And… it’s not like ghosts are real.” There, she’d said it. It might not be a very Halloween thing to say, but she didn’t want her friend to be seriously frightened.

They stood there beside the empty old house in silence for a moment, looking at each other, wondering what they really believed about any of these things. They were not that far from home, really. There wouldn’t be anything wrong with being here for a picnic on a bright, sunny day. Maybe they were only really afraid because they were breaking the rules. Maybe they only got goosebumps because the night was a little damp and the breeze was making them cold.

Or maybe they weren’t quite sure that things didn’t go bump in the night. The breeze, which had joined them in stillness, rose up again, and a small, thin voice was carried with it. “Where is everyone?” It was a girl’s voice, sounding a little younger than they were, or perhaps she just sounded even younger because it was high with a plaintive note.

“Where is everyone?” The voice said again, with a slightly different inflection. Lisa and Marissa opened their mouths and screamed in unison. They climbed back onto their bicycles and got back onto the road. They had pedaled at least a tenth of a mile before they realized they had headed the wrong direction, still travelling away from the town. Now, beyond the house, the trees were the scraggly remains of old orchards, interspersed with volunteer trees grown wild from seeds left by birds or squirrels. Lisa signaled for Marissa to stop. 

“Are you okay?” they asked each other at the same time, then laughed a little, still nervous but feeling reassured by friendship. 

*And while the girls are catching their breath, we will leave them.  To find out what happened next I'm afraid we'll have to keep you waiting a couple of more months.  We know the holidays are coming and everyone will be busy with family, parties, etc. and so will we.  But rest assured we have more complete stories to share with you here, so please keep checking in and from both of us may you all have a very HAPPY HALLOWEEN.*   

Another Glimpse Into Our Upcoming Anthology...

*Update from Allan: Last week, while awaiting the arrival of a replacement laptop for me, our desktop computer gave up the ghost. This left us with just Helen's laptop which she needs for college accounting courses. So our release date for "The Vampyre Blogs - One Day At A Time" has been pushed back until "Twelfth Night" or January 5th, 2018. We chose this because with the holidays coming we will have a harder time getting things done like beta-reader testing, edits, artwork finished, cover art, and formatting the book. Furthermore, December is notoriously a bad time for independent authors to get much visibility due to the big publishing companies dominating advertising for the Christmas rush.

In the meantime, here is another sneak peek into the anthology. This installment is one that I feel really shows off Helen's skills in setting, mood, and storytelling. We hope you enjoy what you see and we'll keep you posted on when pre-orders will be available. Happy reading everyone...

THE EYES UNDER THE SOFA

BY

HELEN KRUMMENACKER

Tim was bored. It was another long summer day in a summer that was made ever longer by their move to a house in the country. He didn’t know any kids in the area, and even if he did, it wouldn’t make any difference because it was too far to walk anywhere if he didn’t tell his folks where he was going first. That was unfair. It was unfair, too, that they had moved in the first place. He couldn’t believe his folks actually thought he’d like it out here, where there was nothing for miles but rocks and trees, and stupid hick people, and dirt and snakes.

Nothing happened out here. At least, nothing exciting. Back home (home was still the city, this was just the new house) there were games in the street, and rollerblading on the sidewalks. If you bladed fast and were quiet, you could go right past the old folks carrying home their groceries, and scream at the last minute so they’d get scared and drop them. And sometimes one of the older kids would get in a fight and get cool bandages. And you could hear fire engines and police sirens and ambulances.

Out here all you ever heard was the wind in the trees. It didn’t even sound the same as wind did back home, gusty and thudding. It was like being at the ocean, all the noise dying into a murmur. He could hear himself breathe. He could probably hear Killer breathe.

Killer was Tim’s cat. Killer was all black, so when he was in a dark place, all you ever saw were two shining eyes. He usually did hide in dark places, too, under furniture, so that he could reach out from underneath to attack passing ankles. There was a dangerous sort of energy in that cat, the strength, the obsession, the ruthlessness of an army compacted down into a twelve pound package-- at least when he wasn’t curled up in a lap or taking a nap.

If Tim could find Killer, they could play. Killer got bored out here, too. No more cockroaches to kill and carry around in his mouth. Not that he shouldn’t be able to find enough other disgusting little things to play with out here. But he hadn’t been himself since they moved a month ago. He was shying at corners, sniffing and bristling as he looked at empty spaces.

Tim laughed. “Killer, are you afraid of the bogeyman? Didn’t you know mom and dad moved us out here ‘cause it’s safer?” Sure it was safer. Mom hadn’t liked it when he’d told her about the neat pistol Bobby had brought to school last May. But here the guys probably all had hunting rifles. “Killer, where are you?”

Scuffling came from the family room. That was where all the comfortable furniture was, the stuff that had come with them from the city. The stuff in the living room was all ‘country’, which his mom liked and he would like to make kindling of. That was an idea, Tim told himself. We got a fireplace now.

Tim went in search of the scuffling noise. Maybe Killer had found a rat. He could take it and put it where his mom would find it and maybe she’d be so grossed out they could move back home. Not likely.

He could hear the noise more clearly. It was coming from under the big, fluffy sofa, and it was kind of a growl, repeated once in awhile, and a lot of scuffling and scratching. Yeah, Tim thought, Killer’s found a rat.

Dropping to his knees, he bent down and twisted his head so he could look under the sofa. It was tricky, because the furniture was so low. He had to almost lie against the hardwood floor to do it. But under the couch were two big yellow eyes.

“Killer,” Tim called, hesitating a moment. The eyes didn’t look real friendly. Of course, they wouldn’t-- not if Killer was really going after something...

1st Sneak Peek Into Our Upcoming Anthology..

    The long wait to replace my now deceased laptop has unfortunately been extended due to circumstances beyond my control like, car registration, car repairs, books for my wife's college classes, etc.  Luckily I am on vacation this week, or rather a 'stay-cation' and am working hard to get our upcoming anthology edited and ready for beta-reading.  We hope to have this process completed by the end of this month.

     In the meantime, with our time and resources being a little limited, we decided to offer the first sneak peek into the anthology itself.  We hope this peek will intrigue and delight you all, since it will be the first of several leading up to the day of the book's release.

So without further ado, here is a snippet from the first of the twenty plus tales that will appear in the collection we call:  "The Vampyre Blogs - One Day At a Time":

FROM THE DESK OF CAPTAIN BRIAN WESTON OF THE UNION ARMY – June 30th, 1863 

“A Letter To My Wife”

     My Beloved Madeleine,

     I know you have been troubled by how distracted I seemed last we were together. I know I told you it was simply the weight of being responsible for not one but two companies of men. But with our division on the eve of what may possibly be the biggest battle we’ve faced to date, I feel it only right to explain myself in case I fail to return, especially with the approach of our firstborn mere months away. I want our baby to know that my thoughts were never far from home, nor was there a mistress or dalliance that had captured my heart. There has only been you and no other. 

     Actually, it is an old friend, whose unexpected return one cold night in January, who has occupied so much of my mind. Of course, you will correctly surmise that I am referring to young Nathaniel Stewart. After believing him lost at Mary’s Heights, his sudden reappearance weeks later raised more than a few eyebrows and murmurings among the men. But then it became clear he had come back to us not as a deserter, but as a hero. 

     Why did I not mention that last fact to you earlier? I have been under orders from the President himself to be remain silent on the matter, but with the war so unpredictable, and having recently just escaped death thanks to young Nathan, I feel it only right that you know everything. 

      As I already indicated, it began early this year, January 2nd. Night had fallen and my men had already turned in for the night when a carriage arrived. It had been stopped at the gate and then sent right through, which is highly irregular. Even Colonel ----, had not been notified of the late arrival, nor was he summoned to the meeting that followed. Instead our late night visitors came straight to my quarters.

     Being a soldier, I am accustomed to being awoken at odd times, but upon seeing who my visitors were, I was so taken aback, I almost forgot to snap to attention. Discovering the President himself in your office wishing to speak to you, is not a position a mere captain is used to finding himself in. Even more shocking was finding a member of my company, and long time friend whom I believed had perished at Marye’s Heights, standing next to such our Commander in Chief.

     “Nathan?” I breathed, before finally remembering my place and greeted the President smartly. 

    

    “At ease, Captain,” my superior instructed. “This meeting is of course not a social call, but a matter of great delicacy. It will help decide the fate of this young man.” 

     My legs nearly failed me. Seeing Nathan alive after nearly a month’s unexplained absence, I had feared that I would have to brand him a coward and order a firing squad come morning. 

     You know of course from long habit that in spite of the almost decade difference in our ages, I look upon Nathan as a younger brother. Perhaps, it was losing my own sibling, that I sought to fill the gap in my life created by his passing and Nathan was a good fit. Plus it was because of me he was able to join our company, in spite of his young age and sometimes questionable health.  So you can understand how the very thought of having to order his execution for desertion clutched my heart with an icy vengeance...