Just 3 more days until you can get your own copy of the latest installment of our
Para-Earth Series...
The stories contained within these pages will make you laugh, gasp, giggle and possibly shed a tear or two. But most of all they will leave you anxiously waiting for more stories which we promise are on the way.
Remember you can pre-order your Kindle copy for just $3.99 at the following link:
In the meantime here's one final peek into the first of what we hope will be many paranormal/science fiction anthologies...
"Wolfgang In Sheep's Clothing"
June 2014
By Helen Krummenacker
For someone who travels so much, I always seem to have
trouble getting ready for departure. It’s helpful these days, having my granddaughter
on hand to look after the farm, my pets, and the complex organizing of my
correspondence. She came to Germany to get a medical degree and is happy to
stay with me and help out. There is little enough work-- while we do still
produce some crops to send to the local markets, apple and walnut trees require
little attention most of the year, and there are people we can hire for that.
Mostly, she spends several hours in town working on studies and research, and
enjoys the property as a chance to get away.
Still, there are always many details for me to take care of.
For instance, my pets take extra attention. They are not the kind of thing you
can easily take to the vet. No one has seen a living trilobite, except for in
my aquarium, and many of the others have no near relatives that have existed on
this Earth. Depending on one’s definition of near. Fluffy, for instance, has
many birdlike traits. His usual prey is squirrel, but herons and hawks like
them, too, and he largely eats nuts, especially acorns, to get his protein. He
also keeps snails and caterpillars from messing up the family garden and rats
out of the buildings. Birdlike was a good description for him. One difference
in events between two parallel Earths could lead to such wonderful paths in
evolution.
The indoor animals were all doing well and the controls for
their temperature, humidity, and other such comforts were working fine. Fluffy
had noticed me packing and was shadowing me now, wanting plenty of attention
before I went away. We played a bit of fetch as I worked and he ran in circles
around me out to the barn.
“Wolfgang!” I called out. The pygmy woodland camel was not
inside, even though it looked to be a wet day. I assumed he’d decided to forage
in the orchard, so I went out that way. Ruefully, I discovered a fence post had
been knocked over and had on it some of the brown wool Wolfgang grew.
I quickly ordered Fluffy back. I didn’t need him to get out,
too, and start harassing the neighbor’s cat. As bright as a peacock, as large
as a turkey, and not exactly a bird, he would be difficult to explain to anyone
who got a good look at him.
For that matter, Wolfgang was not easy to explain, but might
pass for a rare breed. The question was, where would he be? Following his
tracks would help, but only in the softest areas. His feet were wide and kept
him from sinking easily. While he was naturally a creature of the forest, he
had been raised by me from when he was only about two months old, and I did not
believe he would wander far on purpose. However, herd animals seek their kind
and, failing that, will seek a good facsimile. Fluffy, for instance, usually
spent most of his time among the crows, who were happy to hang around the
liminal area between forest and farm to keep their distant, brilliant cousin
company.
As for Wolfgang, his closest relatives would be camels or
llamas, and neither one was likely to be abundant in the area. On the other
hand, llamas did sometimes show up for one reason only. They were terrifically
fond of sheep, and guarded them against predators better than a dog.
He wouldn’t, would he? Of course he would. One thing you
could trust any pet to do, no matter what their species, was to gravitate to
exactly the activity that would be sure to cause chaos. At least it was autumn,
and no chance of a shearing taking place. With a sigh, I headed out to
Snyder’s, the nearest farm with sheep.
