Posts tagged ‘Author’

Shadow Stalker Episode 15 Chapter 2 Sneak Peek

Shadow Stalker Part 1 - 6

Shadow Stalker Episode 15 Chapter 2 Sneak Peek

Cali was there as soon as I entered the shadow world, as though she had been waiting for me. I held my arms out on impulse to hug her, then immediately lowered them when I remembered I wouldn’t be able to.

I’m sorry, Cali.

For what?

The way you suffered. I should have done something. I shouldn’t have left your side.

Thanks for reading this sneak peek. If you’d like to read more, become a patron for $1 a month. You’ll have access to all past and future serial episodes!

https://www.patreon.com/posts/shadow-stalker/

 

Shadow Stalker Part 1 (Episodes 1 – 6)

Shadow Stalker Part 1 - 6

http://reneescattergood.com/books/shadow-stalker-part-1-episodes-1-6/

Auren learns she is destined to enslave the people of her world, and Drevin, emperor of the Galvadi Empire is determined to end her life before it happens. Her foster father, Kado, has sworn to protect her and trains her as a shadow stalker. But her training is cut short, when their people are overrun by the Galvadi Empire. Now she has to find a way to help her people without succumbing to the prophecy.

FREE at: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VI2ZCY8?tag=ammbt-20 

and at: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/532091

Also available at: Barnes ‘N Nobles, Create Space, ibooks, Kobo, and Scribd

Don’t delay. Get your FREE copy today!

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorD.B.Mauldin/

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VI2ZCY8?tag=ammbt-20

I Love My Couch! It’s Like a Wall

I Love My Couch! It’s Like a Wall

It is about—in height—yay tall,
the cushions tan are very firm;
they will not give, you may discern.
If you sit down upon the couch
it will not stand for you to slouch,
the seats are wond’rous like a brick
so pile upon some pillows thick.
Take flight all thought of cuddling too—
this skinny couch has not much room.
The edges square are most imposing,
but they don’t make for good reposing,
and as for any power of bounce
it’s very slight—might move an ounce
(at most) and all the velvet fuzz
puts one in mind of tiny rugs
(or fancy buttoned-up fur coats
or Aunty Mabel’s strange stuffed stoat).
To sit upon it is no chore,
it’s almost softer than the floor.
It looks quite nice within the room
and matches with the curtains too!

This is my couch—it’s like a wall
but not much like a couch at all.

— Sara Barkat, co-author of The Loki Goodness Campaign

T. S. Poetry

Visit me at: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorD.B.Mauldin/

 

Sudden Smells, Sudden Songs

Sudden Smells, Sudden Songs

Where does it all come from,
the sap of strangeness inside us,

The sudden flow of feeling—I love that song
That lighter blood, that second breath,

That something where in the darkness
A knob is turned.

Who are we then? In that moment
We are not who we were a second ago:

A quick smell of rosemary changes us, that fast.
We stand up, familiar to ourselves,

Then sit down strangers. We are
Two people. Maybe more.

— Alberto Rios, from A Small Story about the Sky

T.S. Poetry

Makari’s Mission Chapter 9 Sneak Peek

Makari’s Mission Chapter 9 Sneak Peek

Makari’s Mission Chapter 9 Sneak Peek

I spent the better part of the evening setting up more surveillance cameras around the neighborhood so I could watch their house. The best thing I could do now would be to track their movements for at least a few weeks to learn their daily patterns. Then I could choose the best time to make my move. I watched from the safety of a mountain cave to the north where I set up camp for myself. For the first time in weeks, I built a fire and made myself a hot meal. At least there would be one bonus to this part of my mission. I would finally have a normal sleeping schedule for a while. There was no point staying awake all night when my target would be sleeping as well.

Over the course of the following weeks I learned that five out of the seven days of the week, Kado took the delohi-saqu to a building with other children that reminded me of the academy, except that I wasn’t allowed to leave and we didn’t socialize like these people did. Every moment of my life had been regimented. When I woke, I was taken for my morning cleansing. Since I was a shadow stalker, they felt I needed more than one session a day. My morning session was usually the lighter of the two. I would be beaten, but that wasn’t anything new for me and never usually lasted long. My father had beaten me every day of my life anyway, while reminding me I was worth nothing for having been born a shadow stalker. The guides would tell me one day I might be able to prove my worth, but I’d have to work much harder than anyone else to do so.

After my cleansing session I’d be taken for my morning meal. Most of my day was spent in the learning rooms. Each child had electrodes attached to their arms and legs and sat in a small space with a computer in front of them. We would have to answer question after question about the Way of the Galvadi, our purpose within the empire, and of course we learned about the delohi-saqu and the terror he—she would unleash on our world. When we answered a question correctly, the next question would appear on the screen. If we answered it wrong, we would receive an electrical shock that quite often knocked us off our small stools. If three questions were answered wrong in one session, that child would be severely punished while the others were forced to watch.

Visit Renee’s website (above) to read more…

Join me at: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorD.B.Mauldin/

Crisis

Crisis

The air is hot and then it’s cold.

The water wants out so open

your mouth and say, snow.

The water wants out right there

on the tongue. The flaw is always

breaking away. Watch the fire.

It wants out of the place

so it splinters like insects

out of a hole you pour light into.

Fragment, then drift or alarm.

— Beth Bachmann, from Do Not Rise

Visit me at: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorD.B.Mauldin/

Stillbirth

Stillbirth

On a platform, I heard someone call out your name:
No, Laetitia, no.
It wasn’t my train—the doors were closing,
but I rushed in, searching for your face.

But no Laetitia. No.
No one in that car could have been you,
but I rushed in, searching for your face:
no longer an infant. A woman now, blond, thirty-two.

No one in that car could have been you.
Laetitia-Marie was the name I had chosen.
No longer an infant. A woman now, blond, thirty-two:
I sometimes go months without remembering you.

Laetitia-Marie was the name I had chosen:
I was told not to look. Not to get attached—
I sometimes go months without remembering you.
Some griefs bless us that way, not asking much space.

I was told not to look. Not to get attached.
It wasn’t my train—the doors were closing.
Some griefs bless us that way, not asking much space.
On a platform, I heard someone calling your name.

— Laure-Anne Bosselaar, author of A New Hunger

T. S. Poetry

Visit me at: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorD.B.Mauldin/

%d bloggers like this: