Turning by Dawn Kirby

Game Plan

Thomas eyed the girl Lanie had brought over carefully. Pretty, slender, blond. He should have known she’d pick a friend with all the qualities she hated. Had Lanie looked a little harder she would have seen this young lady may not have been the best candidate. Her mind was strong. Not so strong that he couldn’t get in, but it would take a lot more time than he’d originally planned.

Reprogramming the human was a fairly simple procedure. In fact it was his specialty. But even Thomas had to admit Lanie’s friend would be a challenge. With this girl he’d have to make a physical as well as a mental connection to Nicholas. Mere pictures wouldn’t work here. To do that he needed to catch his friend off guard. If his plan was to be successful, Nicholas couldn’t remember seeing her at all. At least not in his presence.

At that moment a plan hit him. He spied Lanie’s phone on the patio table and smiled. A simple text from a simple girl would do the trick quite nicely. Nicholas already knew how scatterbrained Lanie could be at times. Her not remembering one teensy text message out of who knows how many she sent out a night would be no surprise.

As soon as he picked through her brain for the pass code, he found “Nicky’s” number. The message he sent was short and sweet…“Some 1 u shld meet! C U soon!”

He tossed the phone back on the table and stepped back into the house. The girls were so busy enjoying the hot tub they hadn’t even noticed he’d been there. Lanie would be surprised to see Nicholas, sure. Most likely confused when he asked about the text. Though he was sure she’d play it off nicely. She always did. Irregardless, the bait girl would have him on her mind when the time came for Thomas to beat her to a bloody pulp.

A cold laugh rang through the house when he thought of the image he could conjure up. Oh yes, she would get the beating of her life. Even though it would be him doing it, the only man she would see would be Nicholas. Ah, he could see her reaction now. The fear he’ll instill in her will be more than enough to convince Alana.

Once he decided to reveal himself to Alana this girl would be such an important part of her life there would be no way she would ever let him in. Not when she sees how much her new friend fears him. Nicholas would object to her claims, but against the word, the horrific memory he’d place inside her mind, he’d fail miserably.

Thomas rounded the corner and descended down into the cool basement thoroughly pleased with himself. Two days ago he’d had little more than a vague idea about how to win Alana’s favor. Now he held not only one trump card, but two.

“Stupid, stupid man,” he chuckled as he flipped the light on. He made his way to the canopy bed at the back of the room. A nasty smile plastered on his face. “It’s truly a shame this thing has turned out to be so simple. Really Nicholas, I would have expected so much more from you.”

Pulling the sheer curtain back, he sat down on the bed to check his new protégé’s progress. One night was unfortunately not enough. He’d need at least two more before the transformation was complete. If Thomas was stern he could acclimate the man to the change quickly and Plan B could proceed. “Plan B” meaning Plan Ben.

Another laugh filled the air. This one as chilling as the room itself. The news was already reporting the miraculous escape of a very dangerous, very disturbed criminal. Police were combing the nearby towns for him. Staking out Alana’s house. Scouring his relatives homes and businesses looking for him. Little did they know he’d been the fortunate victim of a half ass assassination attempt.

“Stupid man,” he repeated. “You let your anger control the kill. How many times have I told you to focus on the heart? The brain? You left him too soon, dear friend.” He sighed deeply, closing his eyes, remembering the magnificent feeling of giving his life to another. “How fortunate for me.”

He looked down at the lifeless man, curious to see what kind of vampire a man like him would make. A nasty one for sure. A heartless one? Definitely. Poor Alana. She’ll have many, many sleepless nights ahead of her. And if all goes well Thomas will be the one she turns to for comfort. Once he has his fun, and oh yes it will be fun, he’ll release the dog lying before him now and she’ll sleep forever. Of course he’ll make Ben wait to kill her until he knows Nicholas has been completely and utterly destroyed. This whole plan would be a waste otherwise.

Nicholas would no doubt take the blame for Ben being turned. After all, he’d been the one to put the pieces in place. He’ll probably even confess as much to her in her dreams. Thomas planned to make sure that would be the only way he’d be able to get to her. But by then it would be too late. She’ll feel nothing but contempt for him thanks to the future “victim” currently sitting in his hot tub. Dear, sweet, sincere Nicholas will be turned into a monster by one brilliantly placed memory. Albeit a false one…

Writing Wrongs by Julie Morrigan

I'm really happy to welcome Julie Morrigan to My Friends Call Me Kate.  She's been kind enough to take some time out of her schedule to discuss with us some Writing Wrongs.  Excellent advice!

When Sabrina asked me if I would like to write a guest blog post, I jumped at the chance. Then I had to decide what on earth to write about. Since I’m a writer, I decided to write about writing, partly because wherever I look lately it seems that someone’s dictating what it is that writers should and shouldn’t do. Some of these people have experience and credibility and what they say makes sense, others … well, let’s draw a veil over the others. But why — other than in relation to spelling and grammar — do we need rules in the first place?

For me, rules are like directions: they keep me on track. Having said that, if from time to time I want to take a shortcut through the woods or even ramble along the scenic coastal route, I will. Half the fun of rules is bending them to suit your desires. So, for good or ill, I want to share with you some of the directions I follow when I’m writing.

1. Keep things clean. Use ‘said’ more often than any other word when writing dialogue. Use exclamation marks sparingly, if at all. Keep adverbs to a bare minimum. Don’t repeat yourself. Don’t pad the word count with pretty words, phrases or scenes that don’t move the story forward.

2. Write what you enjoy reading. If you aren’t having fun with your writing, how do you expect anyone else to? And if there isn’t some sort of payoff for the effort, why are they going to read it in the first place? If you want to read something that isn’t currently available — kangaroo cops, vampires in space — the chances are other people will be interested in that stuff, too. (Although it might be a good idea to steer clear of stories about milk-fed kitten gimps or zombie nuns on acid, just ‘cos … you know … your mum wouldn’t understand.)

While we’re on the subject of writing what you want to read, let’s have a go at the seemingly ubiquitous advice to ‘write what you know’. And, once and for all, shoot it dead. Imagine if Philip K Dick or HP Lovecraft or, for that matter, Raymond Chandler had written about only what they knew? The world would be a poorer place for them not having allowed their imagination free rein. Of course what we write is coloured by our personal experiences, likes and dislikes, but that doesn’t mean that our writing can’t transcend those experiences. ‘What if …?’ questions are a great way to get things moving. For my money, it’s far better to write what you can imagine. And you can incorporate what you know on that bigger, broader canvas by using your knowledge and experience of people, conflict, jealousy, love, hatred …

3. Get to the end, no matter what. Some days, the words will sulk onto the page like goths into a sports bar, other days they’ll pour forth like laughing pixies at a fairy wedding. However they’re moving, get ‘em all out and be done with your tale. Type ‘The End’. When you’ve finished, let it mature: especially with longer pieces, let them sit awhile before you go back and edit them. Stephen King recommends six weeks minimum. I have done this and it truly works — you get some distance, you can look at stuff with perspective, and that first read through of something that has both a freshness and a familiarity (it’s your words written in your style, after all) is an absolute blast, even if you also end up with a ‘fix it’ list a mile long.

4: The most important thing is to end up with the best story you can possibly write, whether it’s a flash piece or a seven book series. Write it, edit it, have someone else edit it, polish it, proofread it … and then, when it is all spick and span, dressed in a fresh pinafore, hair beribboned, eager little face all shiny and clean (or more likely, when it’s wearing smudged eyeliner, scarlet lipstick, six inch heels and ripped fishnets) only then let it out into the world. The world will love you for it. Your story will rock.

As I mentioned at the start, these are my directions, they help me to get to where I want to go. There are admittedly times when I slip up a little, but as a general set of directions they serve me well. You may find that some or all of these help you — or they may hinder you. You’ll no doubt, if you haven’t already, develop your own set of directions to help you get to where you want to go.

In the interests of being helpful to everyone, I’d like to give the last word on the subject to Allan Guthrie, who with his tipsheet Hunting Down The Pleonasm http://ebookbrowse.com/hunting-down-the-pleonasm-doc-d36389041 created something truly useful. He even gives us permission to ignore what he says. That’s my kind of rulebook.

Thanks, Sabrina, for letting me camp out on your blog. It’s been great fun (for me, at least!)

Julie Morrigan lives by the seaside in the north east of England. You can find her blogging at http://gonebadonlinestories.blogspot.com/.

Gone Bad by Julie Morrigan

A few years ago my husband's work took him to Jackson Hole, Wyoming to help with the building of the Four Season's Resort.  He lived in Jackson Hole for two years, coming home on the weekends when he could and on occasion I would make the drive his way. During one particular visit I presented him with a landscaping plan to complete the back and front yard (we were in a newer home and the work still needed to be done in the back and I decided to add some different landscaping to the front while we were at it).  I can name a thousand things that bug me about my yard, but the one thing that I'm always reminded of when people make comments about it is the alleged affair that came with it.

I had hired a friend of a friend who owned a landscaping company to do the work for us.  They worked during the day while I was at work and would leave shortly after I arrived home. They started the work in September right around the time the days were getting shorter and  the nights were arriving earlier. (Okay that sentence totally wasn't necessary, but I'm leaving it 'cause it totally sounds like me).

Anyway... the day before a big shipment of rocks were going to be delivered I came home from work to find none of the landscapers there. In fact, it was pretty obvious no one had been there at all that day. I thought it strange since I never received any calls about a problem, and I even started worrying when it was clear the rest of the watering system pipes weren't going to be completed before the next days rock delivery.

I was just getting ready to call my friend when the doorbell rang. It was Brad. You could tell by looking at him that there was a problem, but before I could even ask him what was wrong he started to tell me.

"My sister-in-law committed suicide today. I've been with the family and at the hospital making arrangements with them and trying to take care of my wife who is, as you can imagine, devastated. We had no idea anything was wrong with her, Sabrina. We're all in shock. I was wondering if you'd mind if I worked late into the night to complete the pipes. I brought a couple of outdoor lights, and I'm thinking that if you open all of the blinds and turn on the interior lighting I'll have enough light to complete the job tonight. I'll be back in a couple of days to move the rocks and get the boulders set."

Obviously I didn't care if he worked late. I even offered to help. And even if I had known my neighbors would be watching the clock and reporting back to my spouse... I still would have had him work late.  It wasn't until the phone rang early the next morning that I was informed of my misdeed.  Those of you that know me probably can imagine how well that went over.

And now you're probably wondering how this leads into my review of Gone Bad by Julie Morrigan, aren't you?  Well let me tell you. Gone Bad is a collection of 18 tales of crime ranging from little child killers, rapists, murderers, people making bad assumptions, and other people being cruel just because they can be.  The interesting thing about all of the stories is that they are told in such a way that you can actually imagine them happening to you, eh... scratch that part. What I'm trying to say is that the stories are written with an incredible sense of realism. The descriptions. The conversations. You literally see the scenes unfold before you, and the endings for some of the stories come fast and they hit hard. 

The story Watching was the most powerful for me because I've been a victim of people watching me from the sidelines and making assumptions about my activities.  Watching is a story about a father who has never really cared for his son-in-law. In fact, his dislike for him is so strong he hires people to follow him around and snap photos.  True, his son-in-law has a standing appointment every Tuesday and Thursday inside a house with a female, but that doesn't mean anything inappropriate is going on, does it? Does it?  I guess you'll have to read the story and find out.

I also enjoyed Searching, the story about a search for a missing girl. Short and shocking is the only way I can describe this one.  From the beginning of the story you think you know the truth, but can't possibly believe it to be the truth when the story is over.  I had such a sense of disbelief when I finished this story that I actually read it over again.  I read it again tonight before writing this review and I'm still in awe.

Devlin, Me and Cherry B is a story that will put the brakes on any idea you might be having about starting an affair with... well, with any one. Really. Just when you start to think there is going to be a happy ending, everything gets knocked off balance and your left screaming at your Kindle begging Ange to get out before it's too late. "Walk away from the eye-candy with the blue and chocolate brown eyes, Ange. Walk. Away."  Yeah, this story... made me scared.

Gone Bad by Julie Morrigan is an amazing collection of short stories that you should definitely add to your Kindle.

Gone Bad is available on the Kindle and Smashwords for $0.99.

Julie Morrigan lives by the seaside in the north east of England. You can find her blogging at http://gonebadonlinestories.blogspot.com/

Click x 3

I picked up three great things for my Kindle this week. 

Collateral Damage: A Do Some Damage Collection by Dave White, Russel McLean, Steve Weddle, Joelle Charbonneau, Scott Parker, Jay Stringer, Sandra Rutton, and John McFetridge  $0.99

Nothing but goodness abounds in this collection, and the first story... it totally ROCKS!  Okay... ALL the stories rock in this collection, but the main character in the first story is named Sabrina. Excellent story, Joelle! You done good. =)

To Speak for the Dead: The Jake Lassiter series by Paul Levine  $2.99

All I know about this book is that it was recommended by someone on Twitter and after reading some of the reviews I thought it would be a great series to follow from the beginning.  According to reviews, Jack Lassiter is a former pro-football player turned trial lawyer. I hear he has an attitude... I'm thinking he might be cute, too.

Speedloader by Jonathan Woods, Richard Thomas, Nick Korpon, W.D. County, Matthew Funk and Nigel Bird.   $0.99

"From the trenches of WWI to the abandoned rowhomes of Baltimore; From a rural charnel house to the Texas-Mexican border these six stories explore the dark heart of crime fiction today... Speedloader is six stories slammed home and ready to kill."

Turning by Dawn Kirby

Sweet Revenge

Ben stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. Flashes of his life over the past three years raced through his head. Infatuation, love, lies and finally revenge. All of it had been Alana’s fault. All she had to do was understand.

The “cheating” as she referred to it had been a simple one night stand. He couldn’t help it if he’d gotten a little drunk while she was away. Who knew some hot chick was gonna come up to him at the bar and bang him in the bathroom? Certainly not him. But who was he to say no? Last time he checked it was okay to be lonely.

Furious he kicked the wall. The pain shooting through his naked foot reminded him of exactly where his anger had led.

“Damn you, Alana,” he whispered, sitting up to rub his toes. “You put me here.”

“No, you put you here,” a cool voice said. Ben strained his eyes to see the speaker with no luck. A cold chill ran up his spine. Had he fallen asleep and missed them tossing this guy in with him? “We are alone, yes?”

“Who are you?” he asked desperately. Ben hadn’t had a roommate in months. Though he did miss the company, he wasn’t real sure he wanted to be anywhere near this haunting voice. “How did you get in here?”

“How I got here is not important,” the man said. Ben jumped realizing the voice was now standing right in front of him. “The reason I’m here however is.”

“An-n-nd what would that be?” he asked reaching for the shank he kept stuffed inside his thin pillow.

“You’ve committed a horrible crime.”

“That wasn’t my fault.” One second the weapon was in his hand and the next it was gone.

“Not your fault?” Nicholas let invisibility fall to the wayside. He wanted to look this bastard in the eye. Ben jumped back, slamming his head against the wall behind him. “Coward.”

“Dude, you try watching some guy just pop in here sometime. See how you react.” He rubbed his head trying to ease the pain. “You’re lucky I didn’t crack it open. I’d had your head for that.”

“Doubtful,” Nicholas said flatly. He turned the shank over on his hand and looked curiously at Ben. “You expected to defend yourself with this?”

“I did,” Ben said trying to steel his nerves.

“You would have failed.” No longer interested, he tossed it back to Ben. He knew the idiot would try to use it, but turned his back on him anyway.

“Would I?” Ben launched himself off the bed and plunged the knife deep into Nicholas’ side. “Looks like I did just fine. Now what?”

Nicholas turned around to face him and yanked the knife from his side. A slight trickle of blood oozed from the wound. A calm smile appeared as he watched the color drain from Ben’s face. This was going to be fun.

“Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Nicholas,” he said, bowing his curtly. “I am a friend of Alana’s. That makes you my enemy.”

“Whoa, bud.” A sudden need to be as far away from this guy as possible overtook him. He slipped past Nicholas and into a corner. “I love that woman. I only did what I did because she makes me crazy. Seeing her with that guy-”

“Her friend,” Nicholas reminded him. “That young man was her friend. Nothing more.”

“Whatever dude,” Ben said looking around the room for an escape. “She never shoulda been with him. I warned her.”

“Benjamin, I cannot begin to tell you how much I loathe being called a dude,” Nicholas sighed. “I gave you my name for a reason. Please use it.”

“Do you see where you are?” Ben snorted. “This is my house. I’ll call you whatever I want to.”

In less than a second he closed the distance between them. He simply couldn’t stomach the attitude anymore. Ben’s eyes grew to the size of saucers when he saw the pristine white glint of fangs peek out from underneath Nicholas’ upper lip. Shock gave way to paralyzing fear. Nicholas seized his opportunity and sank his teeth deep into Ben’s shoulder.

Nicholas projected the memory of his hands on Alana’s body, exploring her, touching her into his victim’s mind. Ben’s anger, even in this state, boiled over. Nicholas fed off it. His hunger grew tenfold. Ben’s blood pumped harder; faster as he devoured every drop. Only when the flow slowed did he break his hold.

“Alana belongs to me,” Nicholas told him. Blood trickled down his chin. Ben’s pulse slowed to a crawl. “You’ve terrorized her. You’ve hurt her. For that I send you straight to hell.”

Drawn From Reality by Rachel Hubbell

A couple of weeks before I was married my father called to tell me that he had been in contact with a daughter that none of his children had ever met. Long story short... he was married to a woman before my mother. They had a child. They divorced. He never saw her again. The only picture we had of her was from when she was two.

Her name was Becky.

Becky kind of floated into our lives with no warning. She attended my wedding with our father; it was awkward with it being our first meeting and all. She eventually packed her things from Pennsylvania and moved to the Oregon Coast. She bought a house and had my father move in... and she created a family unit out of a family that never really existed.

We all grew to love Becky. She was wonderful, really. Always giving. Always wanting us to grow closer as a family; to forget the past and start new.

In all honesty, it was the greatest three years of my life.

Becky was diagnosed with colon cancer and died three years after she had become a true part of the family. It was heart breaking. For a family that was still struggling from the loss of a wife and mother several, several years before, Becky's death became a reminder, for some, of all the bad in the world. 

I think Becky knew that we'd become discouraged. I think she knew that she was the only thing that was making us function as a family. And I think she knew deep down that she couldn't keep us united as a family after she died, but could at least give us a part of her to keep with us as a reminder of how good things used to be...

She created books for us that held her poetry, personal thoughts, journal entries and pictures that she would doodle.  I love my copies and I still find myself reading through the pages and remembering the few activities that we did spend together as a family. It's a nice reminder to have and it also helps with those days when I'm looking for a little extra something to get me through the day.

Drawn From Reality by Rachel Hubbell is a collection of poems and personal thoughts born out of personal struggle and perseverance.  Extremely moving, this collection is full of one woman's love and excitement for the opportunity to just live life.  Rachel Hubbell has battled breast cancer twice, and now struggles with life as a woman living with Lupus Nephritis.

With many uplifting thoughts and poems to choose from, FOREVER, was the one that touched me the most.

today is different enveloped inside of assurance,

of days gone by

repetition is eventful

repetition is known

tomorrow is the same

enclosed inside of regret for future days to come

repetition is eventful

repetition is known

looking through the eyes of the unborn

knowing not what the future will hold

if any at all

repetition is inevitable

repetition is the end...

ever moving forward,

uncertainty all around

unable to stop...

venturing ever forward

the future, past and present

the unknown synonymous with each other...

repetition

a term

which never

ends, never

ends

never

I'm touched by Rachel's collection of poetry because I know what it's like to struggle and endure and persevere and succeed. I'm touched by Rachel because of her excitement to live life and to share goodness with others.

And I'm touched by her simplicity. She shared this is about the "why" behind her writing...

I started writing at age 5 about the abuse I suffered at the hands of a family member and as a release it just flourished. When I had cancer twice and abusive marriages I poured it out into my poems in hopes that it would inspire and help others through any difficult times in their lives. It has been very cathartic for me and I write every day, I even carry a pad with me and recorder to document that inspiration in life.

Drawn by Reality is a wonderful collection of inspiring poems and thoughts and even come with pages available to encourage the reader to write their own. I think knowing some of the reasons behind why Rachel writes makes the collection that much more valuable to the reader. You can read more about Rachel Hubbell on her website at http://rachelhubbell.com/. 

I GOT A NEEDLE. DO YOU GOT A NEEDLE?

I was playing with my purchase order and trying to figure out how lulu.com comes up with their shipping costs when my hubby interrupted me so I could talk with the Comcast girl that came knockin' on our door. Instead of just walking away I decided to just finish through the last remaining steps... checked the shipping box I was willing to pay for... entered the discount code... placed the order.  Nothing unusual, really. 

Then I went upstairs to chat with Ms. Comcast.  While she was on the phone talking to her people, my husband gets a phone call from some company wanting to do an unscheduled phone interview to discuss a job application and leaves the room. 

I'm stuck. No place to go. No where to hide. Just me and Ms. Comcast and two dogs fighting over their rawhide bones. 

Thirty minutes later and I'm sitting at the table listening to the sounds of Ms. Comcast chatting away with her network of people on her cell phone and my husband on his cell phone in the master bedroom tripping over every word because he's not prepared for a phone interview with some super secret spy plane company at seven in the evening with no warning.

And what am I doing?  I'm at the kitchen table trying to remember if I had changed the number of copies of NEEDLE I was going to order when I decided to play around with their shipping costs.

That's when I get an email to my phone.

Lulu.com is sending me a copy of my purchase order and...

The discount code worked.

The shipping didn't cost as much as I thought it would.

I have 9 copies of NEEDLE coming to me, which means...

ALL OF YOU ARE WINNERS!

Send your addresses to sabrinaogden@gmail.com.  I went with the slowest shipping date possible for the cheapest rate... (thank goodness). As soon as these puppies land in my hot little hands, they'll be shipped back out to you. 

But... shhhhhhhhh! This little screw up is our little secret, k?

You got to love Ms. Comcast tonight!