Robbie Cheadle’s ‘The Behemoth’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology

I asked fellow Midnight Roost anthology contributors to share some things about themselves prior to publication and those generous enough to do so will be appearing here for the next week or so.

Each entry gives a taste of their contribution, a little about them, how to contact them, how their story came about, and definitely a link to Midnight Roost (which you should purchase because it would make each and every one of us happy.
you do want to make us happy, don’t you?
i mean, considering what we wrote, you want us to know you’re a good person, right?).

Let’s start with a Hallowe’en-themed introduction to the anthology as a whole:

Robbie’s contribution is The Behemoth. Here’s the opening:

May 1488
The sun breached the horizon, spilling brilliant light across both sky and ocean. The water, an expanse of silver satin encrusted with clusters of glittering diamonds, paid homage, gracefully rising and dropping into curtseys.
The light unveiled the dark grey behemoth, seated on the shore. It illuminated her edges, turning them into a froth of lighter grey lace. Shards of brilliance splashed across her sombre mourning dress. The aging face of the immobile matriarch disappeared into thick, golden edged clouds, leaving a headless hulk.

How the story came about:
The Cape of Good Hope was also known as the Cape of Storms because of the treacherous winter storms that resulted in a total of 26 shipwrecks at Cape Point alone.
Legend has it that when Bartholomew Dias rounded this Cape of Storms and saw Table Mountain, he thought he was seeing a gigantic titan of the deep with it’s head veiled in white clouds. He imagined that the tides that foamed around the foot of the great mountain were the titan’s roar. The moment of Dias’ first sighting of this titan was described in the poem, Lusiadas, by Portuguese poet, Camoes. Camoes called the monster Titan Adamastor and depicted him as condemned to dwell imprisoned forever in the ‘furtherest confines of the south’ – the Cape of Storms. According to the poem, this sentence was passed by Jupiter when the Titans were vanquished following a war between these deities that lasted ten years. Adamastor and his brothers were imprisoned in various huge mountains around the world. Adamastor was filled with bitterness at his imprisonment and at losing the love of the queen of the sea, Thetis, and he swore eternal vengeance on all who should approach him and disturb his solitude. He shouted his rage and warnings of doom at Dias when he rounded the Cape.
In 1500, Dias returned to the Cape of Storms on his way to Sofala. As his fleet rounded the Cape it encountered a violent storm. Four of the ships, including the one captained by Dias, disappeared and Adamastor’s warning was fulfilled. From this unfortunate maritime disaster, the legend of the Flying Dutchman came into being.The Flying Dutchman is a legendary ghost ship which is said to have never been able to make port and is doomed to sail the oceans forever.
(and i have to tell you, folks, The Behemoth is one fine read!)
Continue reading “Robbie Cheadle’s ‘The Behemoth’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology”

DL Mullan (aka Undawnted)’s ‘Mangled’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology

I asked fellow Midnight Roost anthology contributors to share some things about themselves prior to publication and those generous enough to do so will be appearing here for the next week or so.

Each entry gives a taste of their contribution, a little about them, how to contact them, how their story came about, and definitely a link to Midnight Roost (which you should purchase because it would make each and every one of us happy.
you do want to make us happy, don’t you?
i mean, considering what we wrote, you want us to know you’re a good person, right?).

Let’s start with a Hallowe’en-themed introduction to the anthology as a whole:

DL’s contribution is Mangled. Here’s the opening:

Lub-dub.
Over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, I heard indistinct clatter in the background. At first, the sounds seemed muffled and distant. With each syllable, my surroundings resounded with a concussive force against my eardrums.
Even though the pressure stung, the picture in my mind’s eye became cohesive. I heard people walking and talking down tiled halls. Words like doctor, nurse, surgery, and triage floated through the air.
From my gurney, I perceived the frantic pace of the hospital. Wind rushed by me as bodies breezed in and out of the room. The air streamed past me felt as cool as the night time temperature.
It was night. I remembered something, but I could not bring forth other memories. Incoherence threw challenges at my cognition. Images splashed in my mind’s eye, but the slideshow was out of context and chronology. My twentieth birthday party appeared. Then a picture of my graduation from boot camp took its place. Darkness of a moonless night, where millions of stars shown in their galaxies above, filled me with apprehension. The wave of the United States flag displayed the red, white, and blue in the wind.
Next, I heard an explosion. I saw an array of colored lights as my synapses overloaded and the world around me turned black.

Continue reading “DL Mullan (aka Undawnted)’s ‘Mangled’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology”

The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery) – Chapter 27

No, not completely brand new. Pieces from previous chapters rearranged and edited for story flow and continuity.

I’ve learned to live with such things. Hope you can, too.

Enjoy.

The Alibi – Chapter 27

 
Rexall Shaul stood quietly at the top of thirty flights of stairs. He made it through antoher day without suspicion. As before, he was the last one to leave the offices.

But he hadn’t left the building yet.

And Thorne was a nasty bitch when fucked with. She didn’t like being out of the loop. Any loop.

Her he could handle. Her and five or six of her people? Not so much.

He received word the NXS had gone active but he didn’t know where. Somewhere along the Atlantic shelf, he suspected but couldn’t be sure.

He hadn’t seen any more ghosts since close to a month ago.

He hadn’t heard any Beatles, either. That cleaning crew quit a few days later.

Connection?

He handed it off for others to handle.

He’d discretely pumped Thorne about any new tech SkyHook had in the works. Nothing. And he knew her tells. She was good, he was better.

He missed the Beatles music and smiled. That cleaning crew really had a thing for the Yellow Submarine album.

Check his watch, relax, breathe.

Two-forty-five seconds later he walked around his Exige, the pilot inspecting his craft before takeoff.

Satisfied, he stopped at the driver’s door, pulled out his phone, tapped a number.

The Exige rumbled to life and the driver’s door opened. Patches of the Exige’s antireflective coating glowed as if several flashlights shone all it, all in close proximity. Shaul turned around.

Nobody.

More tech? Something popped and he looked up.

A crack started in the concrete wall behind the Exige. Shaul watched it crawl like a crazy ant down to the corner of the garage. His jaw ached. He clutched his ears. Tinnitus like coming up too quickly from a dive, or climbing too high without oxygen.

An explosion shook SkyHook HQ’s building down to its foundations, and pieces of Rexall Shaul embedded themselves in the concrete walls at the front of his car.


Previous entries in The Alibi (A John Chance Mystery)

Christa Planko’s ‘The Easterville Glass Ghost’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology

I asked fellow Midnight Roost anthology contributors to share some things about themselves prior to publication and those generous enough to do so will be appearing here for the next week or so.

Each entry gives a taste of their contribution, a little about them, how to contact them, how their story came about, and definitely a link to Midnight Roost (which you should purchase because it would make each and every one of us happy.
you do want to make us happy, don’t you?
i mean, considering what we wrote, you want us to know you’re a good person, right?).

Let’s start with a Hallowe’en-themed introduction to the anthology as a whole:

Christa’s contribution is The Easterville Glass Ghost. Here’s the opening:

As Taryn approached the glassworks ruins, an eerie feeling overcame her. She clutched her goose-fleshed arms. Dilapidated walls rose above the rubble, a testament to the existence of the factory that once stood. Its brick-faced front featured large, arched entryways.
Despite the “No Trespassing” sign, she stepped over the rope. She climbed onto a pile of fallen bricks to take in the view. People usually roamed the park grounds. But not on this chilly spring day. It allowed her to get close and personal with the ruins she found so haunting.”

How the story came about:
History often serves as a window to the past. Social and political times, livelihoods, ways of living may change, but the human soul remains constant. Accounts of past lives enable the re-imagining of experiences and associated emotions we can relate to today. Such stories provide transparency, like a glass window into yesteryear. They build a bridge that connects past and present, reminding us of how brief and fragile our lives are—but also how remarkable acts, such as heroism, can live.
The story of the “Easterville Glass Ghost” is a historical fiction account of a 19th-century hero who met his untimely death at a glass factory. It examines how the spirit of human kindness transcends time and dimension, inspiring others across centuries.
Continue reading “Christa Planko’s ‘The Easterville Glass Ghost’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology”

Denise Aparo’s ‘The Pines’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology

I asked fellow Midnight Roost anthology contributors to share some things about themselves prior to publication and those generous enough to do so will be appearing here for the next week or so.

Each entry gives a taste of their contribution, a little about them, how to contact them, how their story came about, and definitely a link to Midnight Roost (which you should purchase because it would make each and every one of us happy.
you do want to make us happy, don’t you?
i mean, considering what we wrote, you want us to know you’re a good person, right?).

Let’s start with a Hallowe’en-themed introduction to the anthology as a whole:

Denise’s contribution is The Pines. Here’s the opening:

The ping of the brass counter bell resonated through the rustic tavern lobby.
“May I help you?” As the tavernkeeper appeared from behind the mahogany counter, he gave the guest a cheerful smile as he twisted a stark white cloth inside a barrel-shaped stein.
“I have a reservation for a single room under Douglas. Orna Douglas.” She held out a credit card.
Setting the pint glass on the inner counter, he flipped the pages of a large register. He frowned, “Em, sorry, Ms. Douglas. There was no confirmation for the booking. I procured it yesterday. Unfortunately, no rooms due to the storm.”

How the story came about:
The inspiration for her short story “The Pines” came from a weekend visit to the cozy New Hampshire town of North Conway. While staying at a local inn with her husband and another couple, they each experienced unexplained events, like seeing shadows move against the wall and having a feeling of being tapped on the shoulder when standing alone. The more they discussed their eerie feelings, the more the power of suggestion took over!
The visit to the inn, combined with recently learning about her family heritage, and hearing about the miscarriage of a very spiritual friend, prompted the structure of her story.
Continue reading “Denise Aparo’s ‘The Pines’ in WordCrafter Press’ Midnight Roost Anthology”