“I’m Sorry, Jack.”

“What about my sister?” Jack asked the man.  The stranger’s plain face exuded compassion when he replied, “I’m sorry, Jack.  I’m not here to save your sister, just you.”

Jack felt like he was dreaming.  A new life?  Maybe he could come back for his sister in time.  He could ask the Guardian to save her, too.

“I’ll go,” he said.

From the Prologue, The Red Cloak, Days of the Guardian Vol. 2

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Book Festivals- From An Author’s POV

It’s hard being an author in public. Dang hard. You have to talk without cue cards. Smile through the pain, the hunger, and the awkwardness. Make jokes, possibly. And the worst part–you’re supposed to sell books!

But it’s worth it.

Here’s a blog post from one of my most trusted beta-readers and fellow Sci-fi YA author, Ethan A. Cooper (What Happened On My Space Vacation– my review is here), about his first experience at a book festival–the preparations, the excitement, and the lessons learned. He was lucky enough to have some awesome companionship, his 10-year-old daughter, Lily, author of The Journey.

Enjoy– Necrotic Times: First time in the author booth

Bee- Boo!

I’ve been experimenting with Flash Fiction, using prompts from some writing friends. I want to share the outcome of one of these experiments on the blog. It is children’s science fiction. Let me know what you think!


Bee-Boo

Nathan slammed the door behind him and raced up the attic steps. Sunlight streamed through the only window, warming the spot where a worn blue beanbag chair waited for him. He pulled his DS from the back pocket of his oversized jeans and plopped down on the deflated, lumpy chair. His 9-year-old body fit perfectly.

Zip! Zam! Whoosh! Rat-a-tat-tat!

Fiercely and adeptly, he pressed the X and Y buttons as he invaded the Nebula region, letting reality dissolve. Images of bold starfighter jets blasting an entire arsenal of rogue ships replaced the less desirable images floating through his brain. Like the one of his dad sighing at the window as mom drove away in the U-Haul, just watching her go, just letting her leave them forever.

It’s not your fault, Nathan. Divorce happens between grown-ups.

Nathan blasted all the other fighters out of his way and won the first level easily. He waited for the next level to begin. The theme music, an invigorating repetitive rift, echoed through the empty attic.

Beep! Boop! Ba-da-da-ba!

The sounds hadn’t come from his handheld game. They echoed from somewhere else in the attic.

Again, he heard in the distance— Ba-da-da-ba-beep!

Nathan paused the game and rose from his cushiony spot by the window.

He walked down the right isle of the attic and turned the corner to examine the rest of the long, bare wood storage space—when he heard it again.

Ba-da-da-ba-beep!

Standing near a dark corner, Nathan spied an oval, scraped-up metal container, the same size as the old toy box in his bedroom. Nathan had never noticed the object in the attic before. Of course, he just came here to play his games. There wasn’t much left to look at, anyway.

Nathan tugged hard on the latch and pried the lid open. It was hard, but he did it. He wasn’t like his dad. He wasn’t a quitter.

The lone window’s light didn’t reach this section of the attic. Nathan peered into the shadows inside. The sounds started again, accompanied by blinking yellow and green lights, bright and quick, like camera flashes. Nathan’s vision went wonky for a minute. He shut his eyes tight. When the residual flashes faded, he opened his eyes.

Inside the metal vessel, a fuzzy creature looked up at Nathan with huge, yellow round eyes. Covered in dark brown fur, Nathan’s first instinct was to pet it. He leaned closer.

Boop!

The creature cowered. It trembled so hard that it shook the metal chest too.

“It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

Its saucer eyes blinked.

“My name is Nathan. Who are you?” The creature’s stubby body stopped shaking.

“Ba-da . . . bee-boo.”

“Uhhh…your name is . . . Bee-Boo?”

The furry ball stayed quiet for what seemed like an eternity before replying ecstatically, “Bee-boo!”

“Can I pick you up, Bee-Boo? I promise I won’t squeeze you too hard. I know how to do it. I have a pet hamster, Mario. You’d like him. He was a present from—nevermind.”

The creature rolled slowly toward Nathan. It didn’t have any arms or legs. Or a mouth. Nathan thought that was weird. How did it make noises?

Nathan cupped his hands together and scooped Bee-Boo up. The ball of fur purred like a cat.

“Bee-Boo, where did you come from?”

“Ba-da-boo-dee-boop.”

“Sorry, I don’t understand. Is that close? Is it in Philadelphia?”

“Doo.”

Nathan took that as a no.

“Is it in the United States?”

“Doo.”

“Is it in North America?”

He knew all the continents, so he checked each one. Bee-boo’s answers were consistent.

“Doo.”

“Is it on earth?”

“Doo.”

Nathan’s heart skipped a beat.

“Are you from far, far away, Bee-Boo?”

“Ba!”

How did you get here?”

“Da-da-ba-bee. Da-da-ba-bam!”

Nathan’s mind filled with a vivid picture of a black sky streaked with stars through an oval window and a frightened Bee-Boo trembling under a metal box. Getting Nathan’s attention, Bee-Boo circled the metal container, as if giving Nathan a tour. In the shadows, Nathan discovered small pieces of furniture.

Nathan realized, “This is your room!”

“Ba!”

“How did your room get in my attic?”

Suddenly, Bee-boo quivered. The metal box vanished from sight for a split second and then reappeared. Nathan gasped. Putting the pieces together, he exclaimed,

“You escaped a crash!”

Bee-boo rocked back and forth on Nathan’s palms.

“Ba.”

“You’re all alone, huh?”

Though Nathan hadn’t told a soul about how he cried himself to sleep every night since Mom left, Nathan felt like Bee-Boo knew, and that he understood. Maybe Bee-Boo cried every night too.

“Can we be friends, Bee-Boo?”

“Ba!”

 

 

 


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Broken From The Start – Jon Foreman

Life is a gift like fresh cut roses
Cut from the branch and brought inside
It’s a slow contradiction, it’s beauty in a vase
When our cords are cut that’s when we start to die

Lately death and life get so confusing
I can’t tell the difference here tonight
But lately every breath feels like I’m kissing death
And when time is dead I cease to be alive

If you hide yourself deep inside, deep inside
In time you’ve got nothing left to hide, there’s nothing left inside
Tonight honey I’m gonna break your heart
Mine was broken from the start, broken from the start

Choice is the only thing we’re given
For one to live another dies
One road says hello, the other says goodbye
And the rose that you don’t choose begin to die

If you hide yourself deep inside, deep inside
In time you’ve got nothing left to hide, it dries up inside
Tonight honey I’m gonna break your heart
Mine was broken from the start, broken from the start
Broken from the start, broken from the start

They won’t pay a cent to hear you laughing
They might pay a little to hear you cry
If you do it long enough they might even pay attention
But they still won’t pay respect until you die, die

If you hide yourself deep inside, deep inside
In time you’ve got nothing left to hide, it’s all dead inside
Tonight honey I’m gonna break your heart
Mine was broken from the start, broken from the start

by: Jon Foreman

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Sincerest Flattery

“O for that night,
when I in him, might live invisible and dim!”

In Days of the Guardian, the character, “The Captain,” has a vast love for poetry and literature, combined with a large memory. He quotes from his faves all the time, as if the words possessed a mind of their own.

Speaking of quotes, it has been said (credit goes to a Charles Caleb Colton) that ‘imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.’ I wholeheartedly agree. Authors have their own favorites and are strongly influenced by other authors. What better way to spread the joy than to sprinkle a novel with their sage wisdom (always giving them the credit, of course…) One of my favorite authors, Madeleine L’Engle, introduced me to Henry Vaughan (quoted above) in her novel, Ring of Endless Light.

Take note of the quotes in The Red String. From Henry Vaughan and C.S. Lewis, to Shakespeare and the Bible, there is much literary wisdom to glean from. If you are strictly a fiction reader, maybe this will give you a sneak peek of literature you never knew about before. Who knows, maybe you are a lover of poetry like The Captain. You just never knew it before!

Literature influences included in The Red String

Henry Vaughan

C.S. Lewis

Shakespeare

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Walt Whitman

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Matthew 6:9-13

Anne Lamott

Telling Stories

Author D. Marie Prokop- YA Sci/Fi and Children's Fiction

“Telling Stories”

There is fiction in the space between
The lines on your page of memories
Write it down but it doesn’t mean
You’re not just telling stories
There is fiction in the space between
You and meThere is fiction in the space between
You and reality
You will do and say anything
To make your everyday life
Seem less mundane
There is fiction in the space between
You and meThere’s a science fiction in the space between
You and me
A fabrication of a grand scheme
Where I am the scary monster
I eat the city and as I leave the scene
In my spaceship I am laughing
In your remembrance of your bad dream
There’s no one but you standingLeave the pity and the blame
For the ones who do not speak
You write the words to get respect and compassion
And for posterity
You write the words…

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Houston Peeps- Come to the Fair!

I will be appearing at Copperfield’s Books’ 2nd Anniversary Party and Local Author Fair on Saturday, April 9th from 12-5pm. in Spring, TX. There will be a free writing seminar for all you aspiring writers as well at 2pm. Come out to meet local authors, eat some free food, and enjoy this lovely spring weather!

Copperfield'sBookFairPic_n

Please support local artists wherever you live!

 

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Just Tell Me Your Name

Author D. Marie Prokop- YA Sci/Fi and Children's Fiction

“I’m Sara, by the way,” the young prisoner across from her said, throwing Noelle an effervescent, innocent smile.

Noelle didn’t answer. She stood to leave.

Hey, I’m not going to knife you in the back and steal your clothes. These digs are stylin’ and all, but they’re the same as yours,” she said jokingly. “Just tell me your name.”

      “Noelle. Noelle Reid,” she said.

From Chapter 2, The Prisoners, The Red Knot (Available now on Amazon!)

TheRedKnotCOVERkindle

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