"When I think of 'Silence' this is what I remember: a grown woman hiding out in closet-sized Study Room with a book about Fallen Angels and not being able to put it down." — Miss Remmers
Release Date: October 2011 Publisher: Simon and Schuster Challenges: 100+ Challenge
"The noise between Patch and Nora is gone. They've overcome the secrets riddled in Patch's dark past... bridged two irreconcilable worlds... faced heart-wrenching tests of betrayal, loyalty and trust... and all for a love that will transcend the boundary between heaven and earth. Armed with nothing but their absolute faith in one another, Patch and Nora enter a desperate fight to stop a villain who holds the power to shatter everything they've worked for—and their love—forever."
I read "Hush Hush " two summers ago and "Crescendo " less than a month ago. Between "Hush Hush" and "Crescendo " I lost my enthusiasm for this series. After reading "Hush Hush " I was just amazed and astounded — wanting more! Do to all the other books that needed reading, I didn't get to "Crescendo " until recently. As I opened "Crescendo " for the first time I wasn't really sure how I felt about it. I didn't remember the characters. I didn't remember the plot. I didn't remember Fitzpatrick's created reality. In retrospect, I think that's why I didn't really care for "Crescendo " — I was spending most of my time trying to figure out what was going on.
"Silence," on the other hand, reminded me what I love about this series. While I wasn't as lost as Nora, I loved rediscovering this reality along with her. As her memory returned in fragments and flashes — so did mine! "Silence" is exactly what I needed to rekindle my love of Nora, Patch, and even Scott!
This book was a complete page turner. While at school during my plan period and lunch I kept sneaking away to find a quiet place to read. I felt like I was back (actually attending) at high school again! I found a little study room that was nice, but it's between two classrooms and I was so nervous about being caught! I may (or may not) have even hid out in the staff bathroom during passing time between classes waiting for the other teachers to clear out. Finally, my nerves were spent and I couldn't take feeling like a rebel anymore so I settled for the school library (which isn't nearly as relaxing or quiet). I can't explain it, but I felt as if I were breaking the rules or doing something I shouldn't be when all I was doing was reading! It was the most peculiar thing! It's not as if I didn't get my work done but I didn't want to be chastised either.
Anyway, when I think of "Silence" that is what I will think of: a grown woman hiding out in closet-sized Study Room with a book about Fallen Angels. Like the other novels, "Silence" is fast paced and a book that, right when I had it all figured out, the plot twisted. It was fantastic! I ended up reading it in two days and cannot wait for the fourth installment (I hope my memory holds).
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Rachel applied the last stroke of mascara and turned the power off on the stereo. The music that pumped from the speakers stopped and silence fell around her. This was the first time in her life she’d lived on her own without roommates and getting used to the solidarity was taking longer than she expected.
A loud bang sounded behind her and she jumped. Darkness filled the hallway behind her and she stared into the shadows. Chills ran down her spine as the hairs rose on the back of her neck, and she crept forward.
“Hello?” she asked, but naturally there was no answer. Her bare feet pressed into the carpet as she stepped closer to the edge of the hall. The silence was a weight bearing down around her and she jumped as something moved in the shadows. A dark blur slid from one room across to the other, and she shivered. Rachel swore the chill wasn’t just in her bones, the room was colder now.
As she came to the opening of the hallway she reached for the light switch but hesitated. The thought of dipping her hands into the shadows for even a moment had her on edge. Images of a rotting hand with sores and callouses pulling her into the darkness flashed through her mind and she pulled her hand back.
Cool air tingled along her neck like someone was blowing against her skin and Rachel flinched, quickly flicking the light switch up and turning around, but there was nothing there. She rubbed the side of her neck and found her skin cool to the touch. She shivered again and stared down the now well-lit hall.
This wasn’t the first time she’d had a strange feeling about this place, but the rent was cheap and cheap was what she could afford. Not having roommates was a little harder on her bank account. “This is ridiculous. Get yourself together,” Rachel said, storming down the hall and flicking on the lights to each room. With the exception of the bathroom and her bedroom, all the other rooms were empty. No furniture and definitely no corpses that roamed in the shadows.
She turned the lights off and went back to the kitchen, slipping on her high heeled shoes. A loud horn honked from the street outside and her pulse leapt again. A checkered yellow cab idled on the street, waiting to take her to the party.
Tucking a loose strand of hair that dangled around her face behind her ear, she adjusted her outfit in the mirror. After a quick once-over of her ensemble she gave a silent nod of approval. She took a few items out of her purse and transferred them into a small clutch, taking only what she needed for the night and snapped it shut. Smoky, her poised black cat leapt onto the table, rubbing against her arm and pawing at the clutch. A single white tuft of hair formed a triangular patch on her chest and she meowed in protest.
“I’ll be home soon, baby,” Rachel whispered, scratching Smoky just under her chin. The purring response was immediate.
The horn sounded again and Rachel sighed. “I’m coming!” she yelled, as though the driver could hear her scream from inside. “You be good.” She smiled and gave Smoky a long, smooth stroke along her back before moving towards the door.
As she walked past the mirror she’d just spent hours in front of something moved in the reflection. She took a few more steps and then stopped, debating whether or not to take a second look.
After getting herself worked up in the hallway she refused to be pushed around by her own imagination and she gave into her curiosity. Stepping back in front of the mirror she found a long couch and a single painting of the ocean looking back at her.
“I told you,” she said, looking herself in the eye.
She tore her gaze away as Smoky meowed again. The cat sat perfectly poised on the table, studying her face with vibrant green eyes. The horn honked again and Smokey released another meow. “I’ll be home later,” she said, trying not to sound annoyed and turned back towards the mirror.
The couch and painting were gone, blocked by a mass of decrepit faces and bodies that filled her living room. Solid white eyes stared back at her, while flaps of skin dangled from their faces. Green rot and blood-stains filled in the gashes along their skin, and they stood silent, staring into the mirror. Rachel screamed and ran into the kitchen. Her heels clacked twice along the tile before she slipped.
One shoe folded out sideways beneath her and her leg twisted hard and fast to the side. She lost her balance and pain split across her ankle. She fell to the ground and hit the kitchen table with her hands, pushing it a few inches in the opposite direction.
Adrenaline pulsed through her veins and her heart palpitated like it was going to be torn from her chest. A gut-wrenching pang twisted in her stomach and she turned onto her back, skittering backwards across the floor. But to her surprise, nobody was after her. In fact, her living room was empty.
Heavy pants slipped through her freshly painted red lips and her eyes panned the room. She could hear a pounding in her ears as her heartbeat raced. Smoky stood between her and the living room and hissed at the air. Goosebumps trickled down Rachel’s shoulders and she trembled.
She took a few deep breaths before recomposing herself. She slipped her shoe back on and climbed to her feet. Her ankle hurt, but not enough to cancel a night of fun with the girls. She’d been waiting far too long for this, plus, it was her favorite night of the year: Halloween. Nothing was keeping her down. Not tonight.
She cautiously approached the mirror and the goosebumps prickled up and down her arm with each step. She looked into the living room, then took another step forward and peeked into the mirror. A sign of relief filled her as the painting and couch were back in the reflection or a near-empty room.
She let out a deep breath. “What’s gotten into me?” She asked, looking down at Smoky. “I need this night out more than I thought.” She grabbed her clutch and disappeared out the door towards an impatient and aggravated cab driver.
After hours of dancing, drinking, and laughing with friends, Rachel returned home feeling renewed, exhausted, and more than a little off balance. She fiddled with her keys and stumbled into the doorway, kicking her shoes across the floor. Smoky meowed, awaiting her arrival on the kitchen table.
“Hey kitty,” she said, the words somewhat slurred from her mouth. She threw her clutch and keys on the table and ran her fingers through the cat’s fur. Opening the fridge she grabbed a cold bottle of water and flicked off the kitchen light. “I may have had one drink too many,” she said, pausing to stare blankly at the cat. After a moment she snapped out of her daze and smiled. “Bed time, Smoky, let’s go.”
Drinking half the water bottle in her first gulp, she screwed the cap on and placed it on the bedside table. She tore her clothes off piece by piece and left them strewn about the room. While pulling back the purple and red duvet on her bed, a strand of crispy hair fell from its place on her head and danced along her shoulder.
“Dammit. I can’t go to sleep with all this crap in my hair.” Rachel sighed and ran her hands through the sticky hair-sprayed locks.
The bathroom was already full of steam as she dropped her underwear to the floor and stepped into the shower. Hot water nipped at her skin while her body adjusted to the temperature, and all the warm feelings of her evening began to wash away. She tilted her head back and water splashed over her face and hair, breaking down the product she’d invested hours of time putting into it.
As the buzz of alcohol began to run down the drain, images of what she’d seen in the mirror flashed through her mind. Both of her eyelids shot open and tension crept into her shoulders. Hard streams of water beat against her skin as the fear returned and she felt something slide over her shoulders.
She paused, standing still in the water, telling herself it was all in her head. She tried to picture something else, remembering the tray of shots they’d had at the club. When that didn’t work she pictured the young kid who still appeared to be in his ‘awkward’ phase hitting on her. One cheesy pick-up line after another echoed through her head, but even that memory was overrun with anxiety when she realized the feeling wasn’t leaving.
The water seemed to tighten its hold, squeezing her skin. That gut-wrenching pain filled her stomach again and her breath caught in her throat. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. This isn’t happening, she thought to herself. It can’t be. She slowly lifted her eyes and glanced down at her shoulder, but there was nothing there. The water continued to splash against her skin, and although she couldn’t see it, she could still feel something squeezing against her skin.
The feeling vanished as Rachel turned in the shower, and her fear faded. She was looking at a tile wall littered with drops of water that looked back at her — there was nothing in there with her. “I’m having serious issues tonight?” She shivered and let the water rush over her face, but even in the heat of the shower, the chill didn’t leave her bones. It ran down her arm and along the sides of her body, only to find its way back up to her neck.
She stayed in the water until after the hot had turned cold. She let the stream snap her back to reality and sober her up. When she finally summoned the courage to move, she leaned forward and turned off the water.
Pulling back the shower curtain in a rush, she stepped onto the fuzzy bathmat and turned on the ceiling fan. The steam drifted upwards and as the room cleared, she saw what looked like hand prints in the foggy mirror.
She tried to ignore them. It was nothing. She didn’t know what she’d seen earlier. Maybe it was just the hype from Halloween. She was excited, she’d had a few pre-party beverages and now, after more drinks than she could count, she was over-tired and intoxicated.
Living on her own had her imagination running wild and tonight, she was letting it play tricks on her. She’d lived here for four months and every once in a while she got these strange feelings. So far, she’d just chalked it up to the adjustment. No roommates, no boyfriend, just her and Smoky; the way she wanted it to be. It was a big change and all of this was just part of it. As she got used to being alone, it would fade. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
As she crawled into bed, the duvet felt cool against her skin. Rachel squirmed against the silky white sheets and let them wrap themselves around her.
“Come on, Smoky,” she called, but the cat didn’t come. Strange, she thought. Smoky is always waiting in bed for me. She waited a few moments and called out again, but still, nothing. “Suit yourself.”
Rachel turned in the bed, spreading out along the cool sheets and stirring as she tried to find the perfect position. She tried her left side, then her right, and finally her back, but she couldn’t get comfortable. It was like there was something bulging from her mattress that refused to allow her comfort.
Using her shoulders and feet, she lifted her body up and dropped it against the bed. Over and over again her body hit the mattress until she was certain she’d broken in her spot and found a way to get comfortable.
She pulled the blankets up to her chin, glanced at the clock, and closed her eyes. It was after three in the morning and the house was silent. She fought to keep her eyes closed, hoping she could bask in the quiet and fall asleep, but when the bed creaked, the stillness of the room became overwhelming. She waited to hear the footsteps of Smoky crunching across the duvet, but they never came.
The creak came again and the muscles in Rachel’s shoulders tensed. Deep breaths in and out were all that kept her from jumping out of bed. This is all in my head. I’m getting myself all worked up, and thinking about it is only amplifying everything. She flipped onto her back and repeated those thoughts again and again.
The bed squeaked and this time she felt something putting pressure on the far end of the mattress — more pressure than a cat could manage.
That’s it. I can’t do this. She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t comply with the demand. Cold air brushed her feet as the blanket lifted slightly and her pulse became thick in her throat. She wanted to pull her feet back but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move at all.
Chills shuddered across her shoulders as something trickled across her ankle. With the panic that lunged in her chest came the pain of twisting it in the kitchen all over again. She gasped and tried to scream, but all that came out was air.
The blankets moved again and more cool air washed over her legs. She could feel the weight of something… someone, moving up the bed beneath the covers. The blankets shifted and moved and she felt fingers sliding up the outside of her ankle.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
The fingertips walked higher, moving along both sides of her legs.
This is just a dream. No, it’s a nightmare.
The fingers’ pressure increased as they scaled her body, digging into her flesh. Her heart flung from one side of her chest to the other, ready to burst at any moment. Sweat had gathered on her brow and she realized she was moving, but it wasn’t in the way she wanted. Her body trembled and shook violently as beads of salty sweat ran down her face.
On three, I’m going to wake up.
She winced in pain as the fingers turned into full-on grabs.
One.
Fingers nipped at her hips and tore themselves up her torso.
Two.
The duvet moved again and the cool air touched her skin as another set of hands joined the first. Three! She shouted in her head, but nothing happened.
The second set of hands squeezed against her calves and Rachel cried out silently, her voice ensnared in her throat.
Stop. Please stop.
The mattress shifted as something climbed higher up the bed.
Smoky! She screamed the name in her head. Smoky where are you?
The first set of hands pulled at her breasts and moved higher over her chest. She could feel the invisible intruder’s fingers reaching for her throat. Tears streamed down her face as her body convulsed. She was sobbing uncontrollably but there was still no sound escaping her lips. Cold, unseen fingers wrapped around her throat. She screamed silently for Smoky again. Please come. Please help me…
The hand began to squeeze and the air was slowly stolen from Rachel. A loud hiss came from the door way and the hand around her throat pulled away. The cold fingers slid down her body and across her stomach before they vanished. Another hiss came, this time it was louder, and the mattress moved as something heavy moved across it.
Smokey jumped onto the bed and the duvet crunched beneath her paws. It was too dark to see, but Rachel could feel a strange energy coming off the feline. She was so close and the cat gave off an aura of protection. The mattress shifted and something retreated as Smoky stalked across the bed until eventually, Rachel felt whatever it was slip off the edge.
“Oh god, thank you, Smoky!” she said, and the words managed to spill from her lips. She tore her body up from the mattress and covered her face, crying so hard it hurt.
Smoky meowed and crawled up the blankets, nuzzling her head against Rachel’s chest. “Thank you, baby, thank you,” she whispered, pulling Smoky close. Her limbs were still shaking and her heart hammered inside her chest, but as the cat began to purr, it pushed calmness inside her.
Rachel didn’t move from her bed for the rest of the night. She sat perfectly still, gripping Smoky against her body. She watched as the red digits on the clock changed every so often until sunshine crept through her blinds, breaking away the cold energy of the room. Only then did she have the nerve to pull the blankets back and move.
When she finally managed to coax herself out of bed, she found red scratches, swollen skin, and finger-shaped bruises that covered her from her neck to her feet. A chill had instilled itself inside her bones and no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake it.
She called her friends later that day and tried to explain what had happened, but naturally, nobody believed her. They claimed she must have had too much to drink, or perhaps it was a nightmare. One of them even asked if she’d taken any drugs that night. Rachel wasn’t surprised by their reactions, but she knew it was none of those things. It was something in this house and if it wasn’t for Smoky, well, she didn’t like to think what might have happened if Smoky hadn’t been there. One thing was for certain, whether her friends believed her or not, she wasn’t staying here. The next day was the first of November and the perfect time to find a new place to live.
Shift by M.R. Merrick Published: February 1st, 2012 Reading Level: Young Adult Series: The Protector, #2 Devastated by a terrible loss, Chase is trying to balance the life he’s been left with, a family he’s still getting to know, and power he never thought he’d have. He doesn’t understand why the Goddess has named him the Protector and granted him two gifts: the Mark, a tattoo that now covers his back, and the ring. But between getting interrogated by the Circle and psychic attacks from Riley, the Mark is the least of his concern. There’s a demon inside Rayna that’s fighting to be released, and it’s not her inner witch. It’s something else—a monster threatening to tear her apart.
As Chase struggles to control his magic, his enemies are closing in. Everyone has staked a claim on his ring, and destroying it may be his only chance to stop Riley. But Chase must decide if stopping him is worth risking the lives of everyone he cares about, or if protecting the ring will be enough to save his world.
Prize:
1 winner will receive a n ebo ok of Exiled (book #1).
Rules:
You must be at least 13 to enter.
Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
Contest is International and ends November 16th.
Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
The form must be filled out to enter.
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Amazon | Barnes & Noble Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here. Don't forget to check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post for today!
I’ve been scared many times – that breathless, stomach dropping sensation that comes with illness, being broke, doing poorly on a test or at a job; worry that my child might be in trouble of one sort or another – the normal stuff, really. But the spookiest true event I’ve ever experienced happened for about two weeks straight not long after my mother passed away from a sudden heart attack. Her death was totally unexpected; we’d spoken in the morning and by the afternoon she was gone. It would be a long time before I came to terms with it. We’d had a routine, my mom and I. Every afternoon around five o’clock, either she’d call me or I’d call her. Usually I was home by then – trying to figure out dinner or supervising my son’s homework or whatever it is one does after a day of teaching and parenting and life. We’d talk for five minutes or ten or sometimes longer. I don’t remember what we said to each other; I doubt it was anything special. But it was a given. Somewhere between five and six in the evening, we connected. If the phone rang then, I knew without looking at caller id that it would be her. Maybe when someone dies so abruptly, things are different. I don’t claim to know or understand. But the week after the funeral, around five thirty, my land line rang. When I picked it up, no one was there. It wasn’t a dial tone or a wrong number. It was just dead air until I hung up. It didn’t happen again that night. But the next evening, the phone rang. Same thing – just silence. I pressed the receiver to my ear and said hello. But no one answered. Every evening for the next two weeks – and I swear this is true – my phone rang. Every evening there was silence. Eventually, it stopped. I’ve chosen to believe that maybe she just wasn’t quite ready to go. Because what other explanation is there? Two weeks of phone malfunction? Two weeks of merry pranksters? Or my mother – reaching out to say hello, a few last times before she finally slipped away. Joy Preble
Dreaming Anastasia by Joy Preble Publisher: Sourcebooks Reading Level: Young Adult Paperback: 310 pages Series: Dreaming Anastasia, book #1 What really happened to Anastasia Romanov? Anastasia Romanov thought she would never feel more alone than when the gunfire started and her family began to fall around her. Surely the bullets would come for her next. But they didn't. Instead, two gnarled old hands reached for her. When she wakes up she discovers that she is in the ancient hut of the witch Baba Yaga, and that some things are worse than being dead. In modern-day Chicago, Anne doesn't know much about Russian history. She is more concerned about getting into a good college—until the dreams start. She is somewhere else. She is someone else. And she is sharing a small room with a very old woman. The vivid dreams startle her, but not until a handsome stranger offers to explain them does she realize her life is going to change forever. She is the only one who can save Anastasia. But, Anastasia is having her own dreams…
Prize:
1 winner will receive a signed copy of Dreaming Anastasia and stickers and bookmarks.
Rules:
You must be at least 13 to enter.
Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
Contest is US ONLY and ends October 27th.
Once contacted the winner will have 48 hours to respond with their mailing address.
The form must be filled out to enter.
Haunted, book #2 in the Dreaming Anastasia series will be released January 1st, 2011.
- Thanks so much Joy for the story and the book and swag donation! Find out more about Joy Preble Joy Preble / Blog / Twitter
Purchase Dreaming Anastasia Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository
Book Trailer
* Check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post.
*Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here.
This year we have 23 authors that I'll be featuring over 7 days and each day you'll have a chance to enter to win! There's also a scavenger hunt going on, so be sure to check out The Crossroads Tour Post to see what questions will be asked, what blog you'll be able to find the answer on and enter to win! Today I am featuring Dorothy Dreyer, Sarah Bromley, and Ty Drago. Be sure to check out the rafflecopter giveaway, too!
1. Tell us what makes Zadie such a great character. What are a few things we need to know about her personality?
Zadie is no ordinary girl, as one might be able to gather from the book blurb. She has powers, though she doesn’t quite know how to control them. But I don’t think it’s her powers that make her so great; I think it’s the love she has of her family. She would go to any lengths to protect them, to save them, and to keep them alive. She has a big heart she just has to learn to trust it.
2. Share with us your favorite line from My Sister’s Reaper.
The leather cover was smooth under my fingertips, worn with age, but the photograph tucked along its binding grated against my heart like sandpaper.
1. A Murder of Magpies will be coming out next year. What can you tell us about the book?
I wrote the book in 2008 after a hiatus during which my first two children were born. Vayda and Ward were both so strong in my head, and I knew there was no putting off their story. I am firm believer that the things our parents do can trickle down and, in some cases, taint us. Curse us. Vayda and her twin, Jonah, experience a lot of that, and Ward does as well. Vayda and Jonah come from a background of murder and scandal and have been in hiding in Black Orchard for two years. Ward is the first person either of them has grown to trust, and they know it can go terribly wrong in a heartbeat. They fight against expectations placed on them, but as they do so, they all uncover secrets about their families, truths they weren’t prepared to face.
2. Can you share an excerpt from the story?
I can! My publisher, Month9Books, LLC, has been gracious in letting me give you the first sneak peek at the book with the entire first chapter of A MURDER OF MAGPIES! __________________
Chapter One
Vayda
I always swore Jonah would blow our cover, and today looked ideal for a catastrophe.
We’d seen disasters, somehow crawled out of the rubble and lived. They didn’t just happen, all explosive and bombastic at once so that we had no doubt everything had changed. No, a real disaster began with a slip-up, a spark of fire that rose in the air and snuffed out. But when the ash landed, it was still hot enough to burn, and from that ember, everything we knew went up in flames.
It had happened before. I had reason to fear it would happen again.
My fingers drummed on the time-scarred armrest on a chair in Monsignor Judd’s office. Someone etched a cross into the wood five, ten, maybe twenty years ago. In an ornate stained glass window, there was no comfort in the saint’s face, only my guilt for not knowing the saint’s name. Outside the office, Monsignor stood with his fingers steepled while the heating vent blew the draping of his cassock. His ear turned to the young nun whispering with him over the manila folder of Jonah’s permanent record. Curls snaked out from her nun’s habit, and her eyes slid to watch me. Dull, dark. Nearly dead.
My hands grew warmer. I forced my breathing to slow. Calm down, Vayda girl. Nothing to get too worked up over yet.
Not easy when I was literally a magnet for emotion.
Slouching low in his chair, Jonah fidgeted with a hole in his blue trousers. A bruise purpled his cheekbone. His heat, a mix of emotion and energy, radiated with an intensity that further prickled my hands until they were scorching. I needed to cool down, put everything on ice to stabilize both myself and Jonah. I exhaled in hopes for a cold breath. I wasn’t built to absorb my twin’s fury.
You outdid yourself this time. I pointed the thought to his mind like a laser. Do you honestly think fighting with Marty Pifkin is worth all this trouble?
He avoided eye contact, naturally. That didn’t mean he didn’t hear me. And he answered soon enough, silent to all but me. Dad’s already gonna read me the riot act. Don’t give me any grief, especially since I was defending you.
Defending me from Marty Pifkin of all people. Let it go. What’s done is done. I didn’t know whether to give my brother a good wallop upside the head like our mom would have or pray we’d skate on by. Keep at it, Jonah, and people will notice what you can do. Deliberately throwing a desk without using your hands isn’t exactly wisdom for the ages.
Why don’t you keep that in mind the next time you lose it and break all the light bulbs in the science lab? He swiped a rogue strand of long, dark hair from his face. You lack subtlety and finesse, Sis.
Subtlety. Finesse. Words sixteen-year-old boys knew oh-so-much about. I choked on a laugh and lowered my eyes to the natty, blue Chucks I paired with the Catholic school-issued plaid, wool skirt and tights. Even when I wasn’t in school, I wore long skirts most days. I could move my legs and didn’t feel so caged in.
Brushing away the glass dust on my skirt, I overlooked the blood drying on my hands and clasped them together. They were less dangerous that way.
The door to the office lobby opened. The new nun’s floor-length dress gave her the look of a black dandelion seed gliding into Monsignor’s office. He followed then finally my father walked in last, the scent of wood dust clinging to his clothes. Most parents visiting St. Anthony of Padua High School rolled in wearing suits or golf attire, and then there was Dad with his New Glarus brewery shirt and vanish-splattered jeans—evidence he’d been working on restorations when called to the school.
Even if the fight between my brother and Marty hadn’t already strained my mental barriers, I would’ve noticed the disappointment coming off Dad. He had so many of what he termed cardinal rules for Jonah and me, and right then, one whispered in my conscience: There’s a devil on every man’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. Only he decides if he’ll throw salt at the devil or feed him his soul.
“What happened, Magpie?” Dad asked, a Georgia-born drawl buttering his voice, as he checked out the cuts on my hand.
“Broken glass,” I answered.
“You ought to be more mindful, don’t you think?”
His question had everything and nothing to do with breaking glass.
Monsignor cleared his throat. “Sorry to have you back in my office so soon, Mr. Silver.”
“Twice in one week is overkill.” Dad stood behind Jonah and me, a hand on each of our shoulders.
“I’ve spoken with our new staff psychologist, Sister Polly Tremblay.” Monsignor introduced the new nun. “She was hired this year after Dr. Fernandez took a position in Madison. Sister is a licensed practitioner, educator, and bride of Christ.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Is she now? That’s all very impressive, Sister. Do you go by Sister Polly or Sister Tremblay?”
The nun blinked twice, no emotion registering on her face. “Sister Tremblay. Polly is from my past life.”
Monsignor grabbed the manila folder from the nun’s hands and hurried through his words. His hurrying, seemingly to get us out of his office and be done with us, made blots of sweat rise along my widow’s peak. “Sister Tremblay has acquainted herself with Jonah’s file and feels he may benefit from some sessions with her. Mr. Silver, your family came to Wisconsin two years ago, but of the people I’ve spoken with, no one really knows you.”
“I see you’re a widower running an antiques business,” Sister Tremblay added.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Dad snapped.
“The adjustment period after moving, especially when grieving and moving, can be prolonged. In that regard, two years isn’t very long at all,” Sister Tremblay answered. “Teenagers tend to cope by acting out. And if you’re as busy as I suspect—”
“I’ve got time for my kids,” Dad argued. “Always.”
The heating vent blasted more hot air into the office. My brother beside me, silent, burned with frustration, and my shoulders tightened. I crackled my knuckles, all too aware of how the lights dimmed as I did so.
Monsignor let out a sigh. “Sister Tremblay is only suggesting that talking to someone away from family could be good for Jonah.”
There was no outside the family. There never was. Hard to make friends and get past the New Kid stigma when we were either cooped up at home or at Dad’s shop under his watchful eye. No wonder our classmates thought we were weird—we were.
The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened, and I shifted in my chair for a better view into the lobby where another boy waited to talk with Monsignor. His hair curling near his jaw was the color of liquid cinnamon dashed with espresso, and a wire umbilical cord tethered an iPod to his ears as he held an icepack to his bottom lip.
Jonah’s sort of friend, Ward.
He averted his eyes from mine.
My hands grew hot again, and the overhead lights flickered, this time drawing everyone’s eyes to the ceiling. Dad’s grip pumped my shoulder.
Jonah stretched his legs. “I’m not seeing no damn shrink. Marty Pifkin’s got everyone wrapped around his finger.”
“Here we go again,” I muttered. “Jonah, stop it.”
“That guy is a creeper, and—”
I looked to Dad for sympathy. “Marty asked to compare answers on our homework and Jonah lost it.”
“—he was bothering Vayda,” my brother talked over me. “Guys like that shouldn’t be talking to her. He’s gaje. I didn’t throw the first punch, didn’t ask for Ward’s help. I barely know the kid.”
Monsignor waited until Jonah and I both quieted down. “What’s gaje?”
Jonah gave Dad a pleading look, but Dad confessed, “It means outsider, though it seems we’re the outsiders here.”
Monsignor gave a satisfied nod. “Marty claims Jonah threw a desk. That’s not behavior that will go unpunished.”
“And the physics’ lab? Every light was broken.” Sister Tremblay crossed her arms.
I sank into my chair and hid behind my hair. Those dull eyes couldn’t be avoided. I wanted out of the office. Now.
The flickering of the overhead lights grew faster. I shuddered, not cold but burning up. The poster of a kitten clinging to a clothesline cheering “Hang in there!” obviously didn’t know how fragile my grip was when so many emotion flooded a room. Usually, I could keep it together with mental barriers to deflect the constant flow of others’ feelings, but so much tension …
“You’re seriously suggesting a couple of kids broke every light bulb just like that?” Dad’s voice rose. He gestured to the palsied lights above our heads. “Y’all would be better off hiring an electrician before the school burns down.”
The room skewed left, and my vision blurred and head dizzied. Too hot, cluttered. My hands—I shut my eyes.
Energy. Rising. Must release!
Crack! A fracture drove down the length of the fluorescent light above the desk. Sister Tremblay yelped and snatched Jonah’s folder to her chest.
“Hell of a power surge.” Jonah’s black eyes searched for a way into my mind. I flung up a barrier to keep him out. Not gonna let him in, not this time. He was worried, but nothing was wrong. Except that I felt like I could spew red, white, and blue.
“Vayda, go get some fresh air,” Dad ordered. “You look flushed.”
Monsignor dismissed me, and with the expected curtsey before hoisting my backpack onto my shoulder, I cracked my knuckles one last time to diffuse the energy swelling in my hands. I stepped out of the office, out of the glow of the stained glass window, and paced near the chairs where Ward waited. Jonah started this whole mess. Marty had done nothing to me. This time. Marty never listened until Jonah made him last spring. Ever since then, Jonah had his eyes and his anger on Marty. Anything Jonah felt, I felt ten times worse. When he was happy, he was very happy, but when he was angry, he was furious.
Mom had been the same way.
“I promise you won’t go belly-up if you hold still.” Ward’s voice was deep, raw honey. His head rested against his chair, eyes shut, yet I knew he’d been watching me.
His left eye opened a crack, and I gave him a weak smile. My ears liked his voice.
Ward had been at our school only since Monday, and already he’d been cast into the same social boneyard where Jonah and I had roamed since we transferred in after Christmas break nearly two years ago. We’d tried blending with the nameless, faceless uniforms, but it wasn’t so simple. The other students never warmed to us, or we to them. We weren’t from here. We didn’t look or act like them. We were among the Avoided. But, as of yesterday, we had a shadow. A gaje shadow.
“How’s your hand?” Ward asked.
I eyed my brother and father talking to Monsignor. That Jonah hadn’t chased off Ward was a tacit tolerance of him. “A few cuts. I’ll live.” I twisted my black hair, which was long enough to skim my hips. “You hardly needed to play the white knight. Marty’s not much of a dragon, more like a salamander.”
“Maybe I like fighting salamanders.”
Chipped gray polish colored his fingernails. Artsy in an I-don’t-give-a-damn-I’ll-wear-it-if-it’s-clean way. If Monsignor noticed, that’d earn him a detention or two.
“Listen, gajo.” He didn’t deserve to be shoved to the outskirts all because of my cavalier brother. He needed to back off. While he still could. “Marty won’t bother you if you don’t bother him. Tangling with him will never be forgotten.”
His mouth twitched, neither a grin nor a frown. “I don’t scare easily.”
He slipped on his headphones and closed his eyes once more. Must be nice to be so untouched, unfazed. Must be peaceful.
“Hey,” I called. He lifted one side of his headphones. “What are you listening to?”
“Music.”
Smart ass.
Thud!
Ward’s eyes popped open and landed on the overturned chair in Monsignor’s office. A chair no one had been sitting in. Dad’s muffled voice came fast as he pulled Jonah by the arm. From the dark expression on his face, we were in for a major talking to.
“We need to leave. Now,” Dad said as he steered Jonah out of the office.
There would be no explanation to Ward of why we were leaving so fast. Dad whisked my brother and me out of Monsignor’s office, past the sanctuary where our footfalls echoed on wood floors polished by nuns until glistening. The school was a dour extension of a century-old Catholic parish. The walls in the language arts’ wing were painted rich blue, the Virgin’s color. Hung between classrooms were carvings from the Stations of the Cross, thick with dust except for the Christ’s eyes, which followed us and knew my family’s secrets and sins.
Outside was better. Riding in the car, the windows were lowered to allow in the fire-musk smell of mid-October leaves, but there was something else, an odor of buried things deep in the black earth. Dad steered into a parking lot by a grocery store. With the silence in the car, I couldn’t push back the memory of the last time we pulled over like this. Instead of a parking lot, it’d been off a highway in a forest in northern Georgia and, with the haze of morning fog guarding the Chevy we’d escaped in, Dad had vowed we were going straight to Wisconsin. There, we would start over.
Find someplace new. Claim different names.
Dad pushed his fingers through his black hair streaked with silver and set his green eyes, the same shade as mine, on my reflection in the rearview mirror. “This stops now. Your mama might’ve called what y’all do Mind Games.” The last two words were spoken slowly. “But I won’t play.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jonah and I answered.
“Mind Games, if you must work them, are private. Working them in public is how your mama found trouble.” He twisted his wedding band. “We can’t risk a repeat of Georgia.”
I jerked my head to look out the window. Black Orchard, Wisconsin. Such a pretty town despite its eerie name. Easter egg colored Victorian homes lined the streets, and people spoke with northern accents that sounded friendly no matter what was said. But pretty towns and nice people could turn on you.
Last time that happened, we escaped with nothing but our lives.
If it happened again, would we even have that?
1. What can you tell us about the third book in The Undertakers series?
SECRET OF THE CORPSE EATER raises the Undertakers’ adventures to a whole new level. The Corpses have launched a daring new scheme down in Washington D.C.: they’ve somehow replaced a sitting U.S. senator with one of their own, a trick that’s supposed to be impossible. But when Will and Sharyn go undercover as Senate Pages to foil the plot, they get even more than they bargained for. Because something haunts the hallowed halls of the U.S. Capitol Building. Something big and strong and impossibly fast. Something that seems to have a taste for Corpses!
But can the enemy of your enemy truly be your friend?
2. Can you tell us one word you’d use to describe Will and each of his friends?
I’ll try!
Will Ritter: Reckless Helene Boettcher: Courageous Dave “The Burgermeister” Burger: Loyal Tom Jefferson: Noble Sharyn Jefferson: Fearless
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According to local lore, an old butcher once lived in the woods off Holland Road in Western New York, near the railroad tracks. He liked his privacy, and to frighten would-be tormentors, he cut off the heads of pigs and put them around his property on stakes — that's how he earned his nickname. Well, one night, a few boys decided to ignore the warning and give old Pigman a scare. Instead, the butcher caught them, decapitated them, and put their heads on stakes, jammed into the ground near the old covered bridge.
And Pigman was never seen again… at least, not while he was alive.
Don don don don… don!
Fast forward 60 years. I was 19 years old, and I just got my license. My first car was a 1985 Celica GT 5-speed with 130,000 miles on it, a rusted bumper, and a hole in the gas tank that prevented you from filing it more than 1/4 up. Not bad for $500, right? It took me a while to master the art of stick shift, but I didn't let a little bucking and stalling stop me from escaping my parents' house any chance I got. And rusty or not, that car could MOVE.
One summer night, my friends and I decided to investigate the notorious legend of Pigman for ourselves. We didn't have any high-tech ghost-hunting gear or infa-red goggles, but we did have that 1985 Celica GT, a full (well, as full as it could be with that hole) tank of gas, and the kind of courage you usually find in a group of bored suburban teens with lots of free time and some major Superman complexes.
The rules of Pigman Road, as it was then called, went something like this: You drive down Pigman Road, stop your car under the covered bridge, and turn off the engine. Then, in the pitch black night, you're supposed to call out the name"Pigman" three times, and try to start your car. If your car doesn't start, you die. It's that simple. Party time, right?!
(What can I say? We didn't have the Internet back then. We had to make our own fun.)
We all piled into a couple of cars and headed out toward the tracks. My best friend, her boyfriend, her brother, and I were in the Celica with me behind the wheel. Everyone else was ahead of us in the other cars. We all drove onto the middle of the dark bridge. Killed the engines and removed the keys. Sat in silence for a few minutes to amp up the dramatic tension. And then, the chanting began.
"Pigman," we called in one voice."Pigman. PIGMAN!"
The other two cars started up and took off. From behind the wheel of that old Celica, my whole body shook as I jammed the key back into the ignition. Pushed in the clutch. Turned the key, praying it would start, praying we'd survive this ridiculous rite. The car started, and the four of us let out a collective nervous giggle as we started to roll. And then, poof. The car bucked and stalled. I tried to start it again, but it wouldn't turn over.
"Go! Get the hell out of here!" My friend screamed in my ear. My hands were slippery and shaky. My legs didn't work. I couldn't get the car to start — I just couldn't do it. Four young people in the prime of our lives were all going to die at the hands of some age-old legendary psycho butcher ghost, and it was all my fault. Seconds-that-felt-like-hours later, my friend's boyfriend crawled over to the front seat and shoved me out of the way. He pushed in the clutch, started up the engine, and squealed out of there as fast as we could possibly go in the ol' rustbucket, which, as it turns out, was over 110 miles per hour (kids, do NOT try this at home). None of us could speak. We kept waiting for a train to hit us, the car to skid and careen down the embankment, or a half-man half-pig monster to appear in the back seat with a big meat cleaver, sharpened for the kill.
Minutes passed, the tires rolling down the old dark road, finally slowing to a safer speed. Certain we were out of immediate danger, we pulled over and met up with the rest of our friends at the other, non-Pigman end the railroad tracks. We tried to laugh with them at our own expense, but it's hard to laugh when you're not even sure your heart's still beating. Eventually, encouraged by the friendly taunts and the safety-in-numbers thing, we relaxed. It looked like we might just survive the night after all. Pigman? What a silly little game for silly little kids! Eat me, Pigman! Ha. Ha. Ha.
Ha!
That's when we saw the flashlights bouncing out of the woods. Faster. There were footsteps. Shouts.
"Don't move," a deep voice ordered. A tall man approached the tracks, bright white flashlight blinding us to his appearance."IDs. All of you. Get 'em out."
Another man joined him, bathing us in light. It was one of the few times in our short, trouble-making careers that we were thrilled to be harassed by cops. We tried to explain what the hell we were doing out on the railroad tracks on Pigman Road in the middle of the night, alternately screaming and laughing. We tried to tell them about the legendary butcher and the stalled car and how we almost died, just moments before. It didn't look like they were buying it. But we weren't drinking or anything, and fortunately they hadn't clocked us speeding out of there, so the cops just returned our IDs and shooed us away. I figured they were used to that sort of things — chasing away stupid kids who come to test the Pigman legend for themselves.
Later, I learned that Pigman Road was not only the supposed property of the murderous butcher, but the actual site of a heinous train wreck in the 1860s in which 50 people were burned alive in a flaming train car. Apparently, police monitor the area constantly, many claiming that supernatural activity is rampant under the old bridge. Some think it's the ghosts of the people who died in the train accident. Others — perhaps the officers that tracked us down — believe that the legend of Pigman is real.
Pigman or train passenger ghosts, we survived the night. And the one after that and the one after that. We went back to college, back to work. On to marriages and kids and jobs and real life. And soon the legend of Pigman faded into our collective memories of the best of times, the worst of times, the creepiest of times.
As for the old Celica GT? Well, Pigman's curse or not, that car finally did die a painful death a year later when my friend tried to race it up the side of a mountain to impress a girl.
And now I drive an automatic, just in case.: -)
Fixing Delilah by Sarah Ockler Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (December 1st, 2010) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 320 pages Things in Delilah Hannaford's life have a tendency to fall apart.
She used to be a good student, but she can't seem to keep it together anymore. Her"boyfriend" isn't much of a boyfriend. And her mother refuses to discuss the fight that divided their family eight years ago. Falling apart, it seems, is a Hannaford tradition.
Over a summer of new friendships, unexpected romance, and moments that test the complex bonds between mothers and daughters, Delilah must face her family's painful past. Can even her most shattered relationships be pieced together again?
Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (June 1st, 2009) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 290 pages "Don't worry, Anna. I'll tell her, okay? Just let me think about the best way to do it." "Okay." "Promise me? Promise you won't say anything?" "Don't worry." I laughed."It's our secret, right?"
According to her best friend Frankie, twenty days in Zanzibar Bay is the perfect opportunity to have a summer fling, and if they meet one boy every day, there's a pretty good chance Anna will find her first summer romance. Anna lightheartedly agrees to the game, but there's something she hasn't told Frankie---she's already had that kind of romance, and it was with Frankie's older brother, Matt, just before his tragic death one year ago.
Beautifully written and emotionally honest, this is a debut novel that explores what it truly means to love someone and what it means to grieve, and ultimately, how to make the most of every single moment this world has to offer.
Prize:
1 winner will receive a signed copy of Fixing Delilah OR Twenty Boy Summer. Winner picks!
Rules:
You must be at least 13 to enter.
Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
Contest is US ONLY and ends November 13th.
Once contacted the winner will have 48 hours to respond with their mailing address.
The form must be filled out to enter.
- Thanks so much Sarah for the book donation and story! Find Sarah Ockler Sarah Ockler / Twitter / Blog / Goodreads
Pre-Order Fixing Delilah Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository
Purchase Twenty Boy Summer Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository
* Check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post.
*Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here.
This woman <---- is outstanding… but also cruel.; ) She caused me to have a huge reading slump because nothing I've read since reading her books Beyond and Two Suns have compared. *sigh*.
If you are looking for a book totally different, you have to check out this series. I read them in just a few days and now I can't wait till book 3 comes out!
Maureen was kind enough to stop by and tell us a little about the series and you can read an excerpt from Beyond.
1. BEYOND shows readers such a complex"world". How did you first get inspired to write this story?
When I was a little girl I watched all the 'space' shows, and I had a crush on every hero. I dreamed that one of them would come take me from my back yard, away on a wild adventure in space, and that we would fall madly in love. When this never actually occurred and I learned that I was stuck on Earth for the rest of my life, the 'dream' started to turn into a story.
2. What's the hardest part of working on a book where different planets have various elements (like time changes, atmospheres, creatures)? Your imagination is your greatest asset or your greatest foe. The concept of"time" was tricky. I was more than willing to do the actual research and fly into space to see exactly how long five years would take, but NASA shut their space program down and Richard Branson said his Virgin Galactic plane was sold out for two years. So, I was left with my imagination.: ) One of my favorite creatures is the Sumpum. It has big squashy paws that sound like wet sponges slapping against a car when it walks. It was hard not to laugh at myself as I was writing this book. I'd say,"Come on, Maureen, seriously?" But it was so much fun.
3. For those who haven't read the book yet, can you share some characteristics about Aimee and Zak?
Aimee played the clarinet in marching band. She liked photography, vanilla-scented candles, and she had a copy of Engineering for Dummies on her desk. Maybe on Earth--in high school--those characteristics might have labeled her as a geek, or a loner. But when she is accidentally taken from this planet on board a spaceship that is bound for faraway galaxies, she is starting with a clean slate. No one knows her. Heck, vanilla-scented candles and engineering students might be considered awesome in a foreign world. Not that Aimee really cares what they think. In this new world, there is so much for her to learn, and that is what truly motivates her… a thirst for knowledge.
Zak, (sigh). Zak is a loner for a completely different reason. He is aboard the guardian ship, Horus, but he is not one of them. He was also picked up from another planet. He is a warrior, possessing amazing piloting skills in his craft, the terra angel. Combine his hero and orphan status and you get a man that people feel awkward to approach. Yes, they idolize him, but in doing so, they never actually get to know him.
Oh, and he's hot too.: )
4. This book isn't just about Aimee and Zak. There are so many outstanding characters. I know it's hard to pick, but who do you really love writing about the most?
Without a doubt, it would have to be JOH. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish he actually existed, because I sure could use him around the house. JOH is brilliant, and yet remarkably like an eager puppy. He sees life from a very literal perspective. For example, when Aimee says,"JOH, thank God I found you." He responds,"I know of 9022 gods. Which one should I thank?"
5. Can you share a teaser with us?
This is a scene where Aimee has stowed away on Zak's ship…
"Gayat!" Aimee didn't know what the word was, but it had to be one doozy of a curse from Zak’s native tongue. "Who is back there?" The English translation kicked in. She hesitated and then cleared her throat."It's Aimee." There was another muttered curse, followed by a smack against one of the boards. The craft jumped under each of Zak's jerky motions. Aimee knew he was mad, but she refused to cower. She just wanted to go home. A deeply drawn breath sounded and then he managed a composed voice."What are you doing on my ship?" Yeah, he was not happy. The notion nearly made her smile. "I didn't intend to stay on it," she defended."But I climbed in, and then the hatch closed, and then next thing I knew you were on board, and before I even had a chance to say, Zak, I'm here, whooosh, we were off into the cosmos. And then I thought—I thought that maybe I could convince you to fly this thing to Earth." A heavy silence loomed from the front seat. Aimee opened her mouth to add more, but snapped it shut when she heard him say,"Stop." "Stop what?" "Stop talking." She opened her mouth again, but snapped it shut as Zak swiped his hand on the side panel and she tumbled onto her side. "Dammit, you could give me some warning before you do that," she admonished. "If you were an approved passenger you would be secured in place, and I would not have to give you any warning." She hated it when people were right. "I have to concentrate," Zak continued."We're in the approach to Bordran and it is a tricky one. In this atmosphere, I'm unable to rely on the TA's automatic landing references. I have to do this manually—and I need quiet." Aimee held her tongue… for a second."Am I going to go flying through the windshield when you land this thing?" "Possibly," he grated. She thought she detected a grin in his response. It aggravated her because it was at her expense. She climbed up onto her knees and spread her hands out, laying her palms flat on each side of the craft for leverage. No longer concerned about being detected, she could now inch her chin up and look out the panoramic window. She gasped, startled to find that the green planet which had appeared so minuscule on the Horus, now dominated the right side of the craft and seemed only miles away. "It looks peaceful enough." Oh my God, she was about to land on a foreign planet! "What you are seeing is a thick cloud of gas. The planet is far beneath that ring, and the voyage through that vapor is not an easy one. So yes, you could quite possibly end up going through the windshield. Fortunately, the windshield is made of a composite strong enough to withstand tremendous air pressure, as well significant fluctuations in temperature." He hesitated while maneuvering the craft, and then added,"And catapulting young women." "Is there anything I can do?" she cried, oblivious to his sarcasm. "In front of you there should be a symbol that looks like a—" "A circle with a line through it?" "Yes. That one. Run your finger along the line, and back up a bit." "Run my finger along the line and then back up?" she asked."Or back up and reach forward and run my finger along the line?" The sigh was unmistakable from the front seat. "Either. If something hits you, then move."
Beyond by Maureen A. Miller Published: October 2012 Paperback: 302 pages Series: Beyond series, #1 Summary: It is the day after Aimee Patterson’s high school graduation. College beckons, as does her dream of becoming an engineer. On an early evening walk, her cocker spaniel charges into the woods on the other side of the pond. Aimee trails after him, and in the stillness of that forest the unthinkable happens. She becomes paralyzed and watches in horror as her hands vanish before her eyes.
Waking to the sound of voices, Aimee realizes that she has been kidnapped. Little does she know how far away from home she is, though. In an attempt to flee her captors, she launches from their confines only to freeze at the view outside the window. The sky is black and filled with stars, and in the distance is a familiar blue globe. The planet Earth.
A group of humans forced to flee their planet after an epidemic destroyed their civilization now travel the galaxies in search of an antidote. Retrieving samples of plant life from every solar system, on this occasion Aimee was accidentally seized instead.
Aimee must learn to avoid the advances of an awkward young scientist who seems intent on dissecting her, as her own fascination turns to the exotic young warrior, Zak. Having fallen in love with Zak, she is now torn with the decision to return to Earth or live beyond the stars.
Tapping at the Castle Grave By: Adele Griffin Jeffrey MacDonald is currently in prison serving three consecutive life terms for the murders he committed in 1970 of his wife, Colette, and their two young daughters while they were sleeping in their home at 544 Castle Drive, Ft. Bragg, an Army base in North Carolina. But in 1975, when my family moved in around the corner from the MacDonald house, it was still officially an open case. You didn’t have to read the headlines, though, to know that the MacDonald house was different. For one thing, it was a crime scene under investigation. Which meant that nothing in the house had been touched since the night of the murders. In hushed voices, neighborhood Moms would pass along details “… plates and cups still on the table … smashed a hole in the wall … a tiny handprint … ” And on a street alive with blooming gardens, jetting sprinklers, and Tupperware parties, 544 Castle was the one residence where the blinds stayed down, the lights stayed off, and weeds sprang from gaps in the walkway. While nobody “officially” talked about it, rumors daisy-chained from older kids to younger kids. Eavesdropping on my teenaged babysitter was how I learned that the mother plus both girls had been beaten and stabbed—though the dad had escaped, and the killers (at the time, the theory was that it had been a Charles Manson-style crime) were still “out here.” We called it “The Murder House,” and a major truth-or-dare win was to trespass the property and collect proof—a toadstool, maybe, or a bunch of tiny white starflowers that grew wild at the MacDonald’s front stoop. At age five, I was too young to fully understand the tragedy of the murders. I just wanted to see a ghost—and I couldn’t imagine anything sadder than sister ghosts. While some of the older kids quaked, I hoped to catch the sound of sobbing, or an unearthly whisper-whisper. And then, after an afternoon Southern thunderstorm that turned the air muggy and fragrant, I decided to pay a visit all by myself. This was the year I liked to wear my tap shoes, for the satisfying click-clack-click they made on the macadam. I clickity-clacked down Shaw Street and then shortcut the large open field to Castle. The grass was slippery, I slid and skated, and as the house came into view, my eyes searched for something: a wraith, a face at the window before—yank! twist!—my breath popped from my lungs as I suddenly tripped and fell flat on the wet grass. The front tap of my shoe had caught in a rain gutter, and now my shoe (plus foot) was wedged between its iron bars. Confusion gripped me; the more I struggled to free myself, the sharper the pain. Nobody was nearby, and the gargle of guttered rainwater all at once sounded more eerie than any romanticized ghostly wailing. I cried for my mother, for anybody, and in a new, blinding panic it crossed my mind that maybe the house wasn’t finished, maybe it needed to swallow up another girl, and its stillness and its silence actually had been its secret waiting for me. And now I could scream myself hoarse, but I was no match for its will. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to a couple of minutes, I found my solution, to unbuckle the shoe strap and extract first foot, then shoe, from the grate. And then I ran back to 207 Shaw Street as fast as my shaking legs could take me. My ankle was fine—not even a sprain, but my trauma didn’t mend as quickly. I never returned to the MacDonald house, and my stomach wrenched anytime I heard new gossip about it. In those few moments, I’d come closer to understanding its tragedy than any neighborhood dare could galvanize. I’d heard the sound of ghosts in my own unheard cry for help. Even to this day, I associate 544 Castle Drive with a memory that is perhaps more appropriate to the horrific events that transpired there—the raw, helpless terror of entrapment, with nobody to rescue me, or even to hear me scream.
Adele Griffin is the author of a number of books for young readers, most recently The Julian Game (www.thejuliangame.com), a novel about cyber-bullying.
The Julian Game by Adele Griffin Publisher: Putnam Juvenile (August 26th, 2010) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 208 pages All new girl Raye Archer wants is a way into the in crowd, so when ice-queen Ella Parker picks her to get back at her ex, the gorgeous Julian Kilgarry, Raye is more than game. Even if it means creating a fake Facebook identity so she can learn enough about Julian to sabotage him. It's a fun and dangerous thrill at first, but Raye hadn't counted on falling for Julian herself and igniting Ella's rage. As Raye works to reconcile the temptress Elizabeth with her real-life self, Ella serves up her own revenge, creating an online smear campaign of nasty rumors and trashy photographs. Suddenly notorious, Raye has to find a way out of the web of deceit that she's helped to build, and back to the relationships that matter. Adele Griffin's riveting novel explores the issues of generation Facebook: the desire to be someone else, real versus online friends, and the pitfalls and fallouts of posting your personal life online for all the world to judge.
Prize:
1 winner will receive a signed copy of The Julian Game and a Picture the Dead t-shirt.
Rules:
You must be at least 13 to enter.
Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
Contest is US ONLY and ends November 5th.
Once contacted the winner will have 48 hours to respond with their mailing address.
The form must be filled out to enter.
- Thanks so much Adele for the amazing story and book and shirt donation!
Find Adele Griffin Adele Griffin / Twitter / Goodreads / The Julian Game
Purchase The Julian Game Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository
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"England, 1916." Independent-minded Bess Crawford's upbringing is far different from that of the usual upper-middle-class British gentlewoman. Growing up in India, she learned the importance of responsibility, honor, and duty from her officer father. At the outbreak of World War I, she followed in his footsteps and volunteered for the nursing corps, serving from the battlefields of France to the doomed hospital ship "Britannic." On one voyage, Bess grows fond of the young, gravely wounded Lieutenant Arthur Graham. Something rests heavily on his conscience, and to give him a little peace as he dies, she promises to deliver a message to his brother. It is some months before she can carry out this duty, and when she's next in England, she herself is recovering from a wound. When Bess arrives at the Graham house in Kent, Jonathan Graham listens to his brother's last wishes with surprising indifference. Neither his mother nor his brother Timothy seems to think it has any significance. Unsettled by this, Bess is about to take her leave when sudden tragedy envelops her. She quickly discovers that fulfilling this duty to the dead has thrust her into a maelstrom of intrigue and murder that will endanger her own life and test her courage as not even war has."
"A Duty to the Dead" is an absolutely phenomenal book. I finished it in a week, which many would think is no small task, but really, for a college senior — that's saying something.
The plot is riveting and exciting — incomparable to anything I've ever read. Characterization and plot were flawless in this first Bess Crawford Mystery. I immediately felt for and related to Bess Crawford after the first chapter. I was drawn into the story on the first page. I just had to find out what Arthur Graham's message meant. The message is so entirely simple and seemingly uncomplicated — but it amasses to a deeply rooted conspiracy surrounded by lies.
This past week I have been charged in creating an entire year's curriculum map and a lesson plan (two separate classes) — I chose to do eleventh grade American Literature for the map and because I'm lazy and I don't like reinventing the wheel, for the lesson plan I did "The Examination of Sarah Good." I then, for another class, was assigned to create a webquest (more to come on that later) and I chose to continue my lesson on Sarah Good and the Salem Witchcraft Trials. Because I spent so much of my week reading about the Trials, I couldn't help but compare this book and its message to that of the Salem Witchcraft Trials. So much pain and hurt as a result of foolish little children. I don't want to say too much — and I don't think I have — but I had better stop here.
While the ending came quick, I wouldn't have had it any other way — it just worked. This book is absolutely wonderful. I feel so very lucky to have received this book from Goodreads as a First Reads Winner. I will definitely be looking for more of Bess Crawford.
Because I so much enjoyed this book I will not be offering it up for giveaway. I will definitely be taking this book to my classroom next year. I may have to purchase another copy so that when my students inevitatably read it to pieces, I'm not left without. Anyone could enjoy this novel — adults and advanced young adult readers. There's no sex, no massive swearing, and enough blood to keep high school boys interested — a perfect book for a young teacher looking for books to give her students (especially males!).
Favorite Quotes:
"Truth is a very illusive thing." "I'm not sure that truth exists. Perhaps we only think it does. But in reality it's only what you believe" (202).
"You were ever taking pity on the halt and the lame and the lost" (259).
"That was what hurt the most. That I would have been drawn into the conspiracy of silence, unwittingly and therefore unwillingly" (326).
Title: Insurgent Author: Veronica Roth Publisher: HarperTeen Add to Goodreads One choice can transform you--or it can destroy you. But every choice has consequences, and as unrest surges in the factions all around her, Tris Prior must continue trying to save those she loves--and herself--while grappling with haunting questions of grief and forgiveness, identity and loyalty, politics and love.
Tris's initiation day should have been marked by celebration and victory with her chosen faction; instead, the day ended with unspeakable horrors. War now looms as conflict between the factions and their ideologies grows. And in times of war, sides must be chosen, secrets will emerge, and choices will become even more irrevocable--and even more powerful. Transformed by her own decisions but also by haunting grief and guilt, radical new discoveries, and shifting relationships, Tris must fully embrace her Divergence, even if she does not know what she may lose by doing so.
"New York Times" bestselling author Veronica Roth's much-anticipated second book of the dystopian"Divergent" series is another intoxicating thrill ride of a story, rich with hallmark twists, heartbreaks, romance, and powerful insights about human nature.
Title: Dreamless Author: Josephine Angelini Publisher: HarperTeen Add to Goodreads Can true love be forgotten?
As the only scion who can descend into the Underworld, Helen Hamilton has been given a nearly impossible task. By night she wanders through Hades, trying to stop the endless cycle of revenge that has cursed her family. By day she struggles to overcome the fatigue that is rapidly eroding her sanity. Without Lucas by her side, Helen is not sure she has the strength to go on.
Just as Helen is pushed to her breaking point, a mysterious new Scion comes to her rescue. Funny and brave, Orion shields her from the dangers of the Underworld. But time is running out--a ruthless foe plots against them, and the Furies' cry for blood is growing louder.
As the ancient Greek world collides with the mortal one, Helen's sheltered life on Nantucket descends into chaos. But the hardest task of all will be forgetting Lucas Delos.
Josephine Angelini's compelling saga becomes ever more intricate and spellbinding as an unforgettable love triangle emerges and the eternal cycle of revenge intensifies. Eagerly awaited, this sequel to the internationally bestselling Starcrossed delivers a gritty, action-packed love story that exceeds all expectations.
Title: Under the Never Sky Author: Veronica Rossi Publisher: HarperCollins Add to Goodreads Since she'd been on the outside, she'd survived an Aether storm, she'd had a knife held to her throat, and she'd seen men murdered. This was worse.
Exiled from her home, the enclosed city of Reverie, Aria knows her chances of surviving in the outer wasteland — known as The Death Shop — are slim. If the cannibals don't get her, the violent, electrified energy storms will. She's been taught that the very air she breathes can kill her. Then Aria meets an Outsider named Perry. He's wild — a savage — and her only hope of staying alive.
A hunter for his tribe in a merciless landscape, Perry views Aria as sheltered and fragile — everything he would expect from a Dweller. But he needs Aria's help too; she alone holds the key to his redemption. Opposites in nearly every way, Aria and Perry must accept each other to survive. Their unlikely alliance forges a bond that will determine the fate of all who live under the never sky.
Title: Easy Author: Tammara Webber Add to Goodreads A girl who believes trust can be misplaced, promises are made to be broken, and loyalty is an illusion. A boy who believes truth is relative, lies can mask unbearable pain, and guilt is eternal. Will what they find in each other validate their conclusions, or disprove them all?
When Jacqueline follows her longtime boyfriend to the college of his choice, the last thing she expects is a breakup two months into sophomore year. After two weeks in shock, she wakes up to her new reality: she's single, attending a state university instead of a music conservatory, ignored by her former circle of friends, and failing a class for the first time in her life.
Leaving a party alone, Jacqueline is assaulted by her ex's frat brother. Rescued by a stranger who seems to be in the right place at the right time, she wants nothing more than to forget the attack and that night--but her savior, Lucas, sits on the back row of her econ class, sketching in a notebook and staring at her. Her friends nominate him to be the perfect rebound.
When her attacker turns stalker, Jacqueline has a choice: crumple in defeat or learn to fight back. Lucas remains protective, but he's hiding secrets of his own. Suddenly appearances are everything, and knowing who to trust is anything but easy.
Title: The Coincidence of Callie & Kayden Author: Jessica Sorensen Add to Goodreads There are those who don’t get luck handed to them on a shiny platter, who end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, who don’t get saved.
Luck was not on Callie’s side the day of her twelfth birthday when everything was stolen from her. After it’s all over, she locks up her feelings and vows never to tell anyone what happened. Six years later her painful past consumes her life and most days it’s a struggle just to breathe.
For as long as Kayden can remember, suffering in silence was the only way to survive life. As long as he did what he was told, everything was okay. One night, after making a terrible mistake, it seems like his life might be over. Luck was on his side, though, when Callie coincidentally is in the right place at the right time and saves him.
Now he can’t stop thinking about the girl he saw at school, but never really knew. When he ends up at the same college as Callie, he does everything he can to try to get to know her. But Callie is reserved and closed off. The more he tries to be part of her life, the more he realizes Callie might need to be saved.
Title: Sweet Evil Author: Wendy Higgins Publisher: HarperTeen Add to Goodreads Embrace the Forbidden
What if there were teens whose lives literally depended on being bad influences?
This is the reality for sons and daughters of fallen angels.
Tenderhearted Southern girl Anna Whitt was born with the sixth sense to see and feel emotions of other people. She's aware of a struggle within herself, an inexplicable pull toward danger, but Anna, the ultimate good girl, has always had the advantage of her angel side to balance the darkness within. It isn't until she turns sixteen and meets the alluring Kaidan Rowe that she discovers her terrifying heritage and her willpower is put to the test. He's the boy your daddy warned you about. If only someone had warned Anna.
Forced to face her destiny, will Anna embrace her halo or her horns?
Title: Pushing the Limits Author: Katie McGarry Publisher: Harlequin Teen Add to Goodreads No one knows what happened the night Echo Emerson went from popular girl with jock boyfriend to gossiped-about outsider with"freaky" scars on her arms. Even Echo can't remember the whole truth of that horrible night. All she knows is that she wants everything to go back to normal.But when Noah Hutchins, the smoking-hot, girl-using loner in the black leather jacket, explodes into her life with his tough attitude and surprising understanding, Echo's world shifts in ways she could never have imagined. They should have nothing in common. And with the secrets they both keep, being together is pretty much impossible.
Yet the crazy attraction between them refuses to go away. And Echo has to ask herself just how far they can push the limits and what she'll risk for the one guy who might teach her how to love again.
Title: Stealing Parker Author: Miranda Kenneally Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire Add to Goodreads Red-hot author Miranda Kenneally hits one out of the park in this return to Catching Jordan's Hundred Oaks High.
Parker Shelton pretty much has the perfect life. She’s on her way to becoming valedictorian at Hundred Oaks High, she’s made the all-star softball team, and she has plenty of friends. Then her mother’s scandal rocks their small town and suddenly no one will talk to her.
Now Parker wants a new life.
So she quits softball. Drops twenty pounds. And she figures why kiss one guy when she can kiss three? Or four. Why limit herself to high school boys when the majorly cute new baseball coach seems especially flirty?
But how far is too far before she loses herself completely?
Title: Everneath Author: Brodi Ashton Publisher: HarperCollins Add to Goodreads Last spring, Nikki Beckett vanished, sucked into an underworld known as the Everneath. Now she's returned--to her old life, her family, her boyfriend--before she's banished back to the underworld.. this time forever. She has six months before the Everneath comes to claim her, six months for good-byes she can't find the words for, six months to find redemption, if it exists.
Nikki longs to spend these precious months forgetting the Everneath and trying to reconnect with her boyfriend, Jack, the person most devastated by her disappearance--and the one person she loves more than anything. But there's just one problem: Cole, the smoldering immortal who enticed her to the Everneath in the first place, has followed Nikki home. Cole wants to take over the throne in the underworld and is convinced Nikki is the key to making it happen. And he'll do whatever it takes to bring her back, this time as his queen.
As Nikki's time on the Surface draws to a close and her relationships begin slipping from her grasp, she is forced to make the hardest decision of her life: find a way to cheat fate and remain on the Surface with Jack or return to the Everneath and become Cole's queen.
Everneath is a captivating story of love, loss, and immortality from debut author Brodi Ashton.
Title: The Edge of Never Author: J.A. Redmerski Add to Goodreads Twenty-year-old Camryn Bennett had always been one to think out-of-the-box, who knew she wanted something more in life than following the same repetitive patterns and growing old with the same repetitive life story. And she thought that her life was going in the right direction until everything fell apart.
Determined not to dwell on the negative and push forward, Camryn is set to move in with her best friend and plans to start a new job. But after an unexpected night at the hottest club in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina, she makes the ultimate decision to leave the only life she’s ever known, far behind.
With a purse, a cell phone and a small bag with a few necessities, Camryn, with absolutely no direction or purpose boards a Greyhound bus alone and sets out to find herself. What she finds is a guy named Andrew Parrish, someone not so very different from her and who harbors his own dark secrets. But Camryn swore never to let down her walls again. And she vowed never to fall in love.
But with Andrew, Camryn finds herself doing a lot of things she never thought she’d do. He shows her what it’s really like to live out-of-the-box and to give in to her deepest, darkest desires. On their sporadic road-trip he becomes the center of her exciting and daring new life, pulling love and lust and emotion out of her in ways she never imagined possible. But will Andrew’s dark secret push them inseparably together, or tear them completely apart? Don't forget to share YOUR list on the Linky Below! Today's Top 10 of 2012 Giveaway is being hosted by — Jaime from Two Chicks on Books! Note: This is the SAME Linky on all Co-Hosts Blogs.
The Rules for Disappearing by Ashley Elston Published: Disney-Hyperion (May 14th, 2013) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 320 pages Series: The Rules for Disappearing, #1 Rating: 4 of 5 stars Summary: She’s been six different people in six different places: Madeline in Ohio, Isabelle in Missouri, Olivia in Kentucky.. But now that she’s been transplanted to rural Louisiana, she has decided that this fake identity will be her last.
Witness Protection has taken nearly everything from her. But for now, they’ve given her a new name, Megan Rose Jones, and a horrible hair color. For the past eight months, Meg has begged her father to answer one question: What on earth did he do – or see – that landed them in this god-awful mess? Meg has just about had it with all the Suits’ rules — and her dad’s silence. If he won’t help, it’s time she got some answers for herself.
But Meg isn’t counting on Ethan Landry, an adorable Louisiana farm boy who’s too smart for his own good. He knows Meg is hiding something big. And it just might get both of them killed. As they embark on a perilous journey to free her family once and for all, Meg discovers that there’s only one rule that really matters — survival.
Review:
I loved that The Rules for Disappearing was something that I had never seen in a story. A family is forced to give up their identities and move around constantly due to some secret thing her dad did or knows.
In this story we meet Meg, who has just moved into a new town with her family and must, again, get used to being a new person. It seems that they have to end up moving a lot so it's getting harder to keep the facts straight about their"lives". And she worries about her little sister's ability to do this over and over.
Meg tries to distance herself from all people because she knows that in the end, she will have to leave them just like every other time. But she never expected to meet someone like Ethan, a popular guy who seems to not fully believe her back story. He keeps pointing out these inconsistancies and it makes Meg nervous that he will find out her secret.
I really found myself enjoying each character we meet in this story. They were very well developed and fun to get to know.
Although there is romance in this story, there's also a ton of mystery surrounding what happened. I was a bit surprised to find out what led to their family being in the Witness Protection Program. I was really glad to see that this series is continuing. A blurb hasn't been released yet but I'll be waiting to see what happens next!
Hey everyone. We wanted to do a wrap-up post to thank everyone for all your hard work. You have blogged, vlogged, facebooked, and tweeted about our team, changed your avatars to Dauntless buttons, added the buttons to your pages, shared your fears and accomplishments, and truly showed your Dauntless pride! We cannot thank you enough for your effort. You all went above and beyond to help us out and it was so incredible to have so much support. We will post the Street Team winners on the 1st. Now, it's time to share more answers to the question"Why do you want to join the Dauntless faction" Dauntless are the brave, they don't let anything define them! They are free and determined. I want to join the Dauntless faction because I am free and determined and this is where i belong! - Book Sisterhood
I wish to join the Dauntless faction because it feels like I would belong there. <3 - Carina's Books
In Diveregent, I related most towards the dauntless faction I try to as determined as possible, sometimes it can even be a bad thing. I am impulsive like the dauntless of the book. - Danasquare
I want to be Dauntless because I believe courage and bravery are the most important qualities a person can have! It's not always easy to be courageous; in fact, it's one of the hardest things for a person to do. I admire bravery more than anything else in the world. Also, I really like ziplines! - Freeverse
I have become fearless in the face of being a single parent. I have faced a parents worse fear in seeing my son be treated as the"second-best" to his fathers DOG. To seeing him take all his daily medications without so much as one complaint. (What a trooper). I am lucky enough to know he is smart and more intuitive then I ever was at his age. I have been able to stand up to his father and say,"Hey! That's not how you treat your kid! Get your act in gear and man up." I've faced him in court and maintained my dignity and in the face of loss and also in keeping calm when I have also been victorious. I am a mother and I stand up for what I believe is right, even in front of many. - Picked by Poison
To be brave and face all fears is what everyone should strive for! Who better than to FIGHT for what is right than the DAUNTLESS?! - Booksforme2
Because I value bravery and courage. Plus Dauntless is just awesome! What other reason should there be? - Sam C.
I want to join team dauntless because I want to be brave. I might not be all the way but I want to be free and dauntless will push me to be how I want to be. - Janenifer Lee
I'd rather be brave and do something than sit in an Ivory Tower like the Erudite. I would rather fight than be passive and always give myself to others like Abnegation. I would rather be able to lie when I need to as opposed to Candor, and I would like the option of defending myself as opposed to doing nothing with Amity. - Birth of a New Witch
I want to join DAUNTLESS because I enjoy the rush and excitement of taking risks and facing my fears. - Doodle's Book Blog
I want to join the Dauntless because I want to do things that I never thought I could do and be a part of something strong. - Em and Em's Reviews
I want to join Dauntless because they believe in freedom from fear, and I'm sick of being afraid. I hate being scared or cowardly, it makes me feel weak and useless, and helpless. I also want to join Dauntless because I believe in shouting for those who can only whisper, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another. I believe in action, and I believe in ordinary acts of bravery. I want to be brave. I want to face my fears and laugh and conquer them. I'm sick of sitting idly by and watching while others act, while others are brave. I want to join then. I WILL join them. Even the thought of Dauntless makes me brave. Dauntless has quite literally changed my life. Since choosing Dauntless, I have become more confident, bolder, less afraid. I know where I belong, and, sure Erudite has a pull for me, but I do not belong with them. I belong among the bold and brave. I belong in a place where I am free from the fear that has tied me down for years. I believe in realizing the extent to which fear rules us, and denying it the chance to change my decisions and control my life. I believe that no other virtue is more important than bravery. - Shout for Those Who Can Only Whisper
Besides the fact that Tris and Four are members, the Dauntless are brave and determined, which is what I am. I have had to be brave and strong to deal with my medical problems, so clearly Dauntless is where I belong. - Shooting Stars Mag
I love the idea of Dauntless, this team seems to encompass many values found in the others teams, but makes those values"their own." - Live to Read
I admire people who are brave and willing to do what must be done to accomplish great things. I want to be more brave and courageous in my actions. - Hope Love Happy Endings
Divergent and Dauntless has saved me from going crazy, and this fandom tooootally needs to be bigger than it is because it was such a deserving book. - Divergent for Life
Something exciting is always happening. It is challenging. You fight for your place. Its YOU who gets to decide. That's why i want to join Dauntless. - Nic
Because I abide by the Team Motto. - Reviewing Shelf
Because its the best team ever!: ) - Monica
We stand up and face our fears. We never back down, no matter what. A person can be truthful or smart or charitable, but it takes real courage and determination to face the worst of the days. And that's what Dauntless is about. - Raven Fic
Dauntless is by far the best faction! I've always had a thirst for adventure and to be carefree and strong so Dauntless is the best faction for that! =] - Booktastic Reviews
I am Dauntless! Nothing will stop me from standing up for what I believe in! - Words from the Tampa Bookworm
Why? Hmm… well, I'll start out with this. At first, I thought I was Erudite because I like reading about things, but then, I analized myself, and I can't say I like the fact that's all they ever do. I like adventure and risk, even if I still can't do some of them because I'm underage. (Which sucks). Anyway, what I'm saying is, that I value bravery a bit more than knowledge, both are important, but I feel that anyone can have knowledge, no matter what it is. Dauntless is a faction that promotes bravery, which is something not everyone has. I feel that with Dauntless, I can more so face my fears and kick butt while doing so. Plus, I can't be selfless, I'm not a fan of total peace, and I can't only tell the truth.: ) There you have it. - Reading in Paradise
Because I am Dauntless! =) - Orchid
Because I'm fearless, strong, determined! I have the strenght to be in this faction! #TEAMDAUNTLESS TILL DEATH! - Trayche
I am fearless! I also love Divergent! - Diana
Because it is the best faction!! I am brave and fearless. Team Dauntless is where I belong. Faction Before Blood!! - Book Loving Mom
Because I AM DAUNTLESS - F.
I want to join Dauntless because I believe everything I do in my life makes.me not only strong but brave too. - Dee
It suits me well or at least better than anywhere else - Taylor
Because of my obsession of divergent (soon to be insurgent also!), tris, four/tobias, and most of all because i am totally DAUNTLESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - Janena
I want to be a part if the Dauntless faction because I want to be with othets who share my respect for bravery and fearlesness and are both of those qualities: ). - Halee
This faction is the most powerful in the sense that they're fit in their minds and bodies. They're poweful in multiple aspects, while other factions are solely based on one. I want this faction to make me well-rounded and able to defend the people of my faction and those inside the city. - Maela
“We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.” Need I say more? - Thoughts of the Chronically Indecisive
I'm fearless, and LOVE to take risks! - Just a Girl Geek
Cuz we all need to let go and face our fears, no matter how large or small - Heather
Because being on the street team is the next best thing to actually being in the Dauntless faction! Not to mention being as close as possible to Four… - Christa
Because Dauntless is in my blood. -Kayla
Because I was raised not to be afraid. To be strong and fearless. If I lived in Tris and Four's world I would absolutely be Dauntless! Go team Dauntless!!! - Book Addictions by Christina
Bravery is something to value. I LOVE Four which is just one fabulous reason to join! - Nocturne Romance Reads
Cauz I can stop a blackwidow spider with one stomp. - The Optimistic Pessimist
I want to join the DAUNTLESS faction because I believe courage and standing up for the things you believe in is most important. You have to not be afraid to change the world for the BETTER and save it from the worse. I do not believe violence is DAUNTLESS but rather being able to change the world without it. I am strong. I am courageous. I AM DAUNTLESS. - Sophie
Tattoos - Colleen
Because I wish that I could be so brave IRL, lol. Also, there's FOUR. My heart has always been drawn to Dauntless. FACTION BEFORE BLOOD! - Book Breather
Life is too short to let fear overcome your chance to be brave and truly live. - Cupcake Girly
Because I AM Dauntless =] - The Consumption of Books
Dauntless has always seemed like the most exciting faction to me. To be honest, I've never really been very into the other factions. I always wanted to learn more about Dauntless and was kind of sad when I never really did.: ( Plus, I work part-time in an independent bookstore (Next Chapter Bookshop) so I would love to give people even more reasons to buy Divergent. - Zoey's Uncreatively Titled Blog
Because they fight their fears. They have courage. - My Life is a Fairy Tale
Because I am not afraid to take risks, to enjoy life, and to face the world and stand up to what I believe in. How more dauntless can one get?; ) - Maji Bookshelf
They say the Dauntless are brave and bold.They say the Dauntless are not afraid of heights and have few fears. Well, I want to show them that, though I may have fears, they won't be a problem when the time comes for me to be the bravest person on earth. - Melissa
Because I believe that everyone needs a little bravery in their everyday life. There's a quote by Winston Churchill:"You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life." Standing up for your beliefs is something that takes guts to do, and guts are exactly what Dauntless has to offer. - Brave New Shelf
I choose Dauntless because I believe that selflessness, knowledge, peace and kindness are worthless if you don't have the courage to stand up for your convictions and for others when it comes to the test. - Songs and Stories
Above all else bravery is the quality that I value most in myself. I also want to see that quality strengthened even further. That is why I want to join the Dauntless faction! - The Hapa Chick
It's SO obvious that this the best faction of them all. Tris was in that faction too so it has to be DAUNTLESS: ) - Mina
The Dauntless are fearless. They love to challenge themselves, and have a streak of adventure. But at the same time they are loyal, fierce and strong, and that is what makes you Dauntless! - The Girl in a Cafe
I love that the Dauntless are so fearless and brave. I also love that Dauntless is somewhat intertwined with Abnegation. The Dauntless seem to have lots of fun and seem to care a lot about one another. - Reviews from the Hammock
I want to join because in Divergent the Dauntless are strong and unforgiving. Also, they jump on trains! Don't you tell me that's not cool. - Tara
Because i believe in bravery and the freedom to choose my own destiny. - Fatoch
Everything worth having is worth fighting for. You can hope you don't have to fight, but you have an obligation to be ready. - Claire G.
Because I like to think of myself as brave. - Srvaid
Because Dauntless is fearless, their badassery is just soo.inpiring. And the fact it can kill you is just… WOW. Dauntless also is far from perfect, but out imperfections let us rise. - Kandee
I want to join the Dauntless faction because I love what Dauntless stands for. Like the manifesto says I believe in facing my fears, and in ordinary acts of bravery. I believe that if people were brave enough to speak their minds, the world would be a scarier, but better place. Out of all my friends, I was always the one who seeked adrenaline, the one who was not afraid, the one that was always the first person to go on the tallest and scariest roller coaster. Ever since Veronica Roth came out with the Dauntless manifesto, I stood by it. - Nancy
I would love too join the Dauntless faction because being dauntless is about being fearless, brave and courages. I believe I am all of those and would support the faction at all costs. - Ashleigh
I was born Dauntless. Trust me. (Or ask my Dad--I'm 1/2 of him). - Nicole
My reason for joining undaunted is: i wanted to be surrounded with like minded people. i believe in justice. i believe in courage. i believe there is no point in limiting life. no point in silence. - Travis
I want to be brave, courageous, determined, and strong. Thought at first people might not think I am that but deep down inside, I am brave, courageous, determined, and strong! - FireStarBooks
I am a brave, courageous person and will fight for what I believe is right. - Vicky's Volume's
Because I love taking new risks, and because it's the closest place to Four. (; - Christa
Bravery is only as good as the fears one stands up to. I don't want to be fearless. I want to be brave. - Eldabee
Because recently my life has been full of challenges and I've had to take crucial and important decisions with no fears. Specially if I have to protect my family. That's how I noticed I can be Dauntless. Well, there's also the test, of course xD It confirmed I'm Dauntless all the way! - Librarian Mouse
To be brave is to be strong, loyal, and face your fears. This is a constant struggle for those who face it head on and what i try and do everyday. Being dauntless means being able to protect not just yourself but all those you love and to be able to help those you don't know. This is what i strive to do. - K.D. G.
Being Dauntless, in my opinion, means something beyond just having courage and no fear. You can be courageous, but now what? What you do with that courage is what really matters. That courage should be used to correct the unbalanced, unfair, corrupt world we live in. Tris inspired me to be Dauntless. I FELT it when she came to that revelation. I decided to stand up for the little guys. In my life, I've displayed Dauntless qualities. Recently, the Board of Education and High School administrators in my town have committed an injustice. Currently, I, along with my senior class, are fighting against that injustice. I am living a Dauntless life. I already am Dauntless. - Amy B.
Why do I want to join Dauntless?? Here's why: 1) Tris and Four!!!!!!!!! 2) In a hypothetical, unrealistic situation where they are cut off from all their sources and forced to live on their own, the Dauntless will survive. 3) They're cool and badass. 4) If you were to throw this faction into the Hunger Games, it'd be one heck of a show. They'd definitely be the ones to beat. 5) They're cool. 6 This is probably the only faction where training involves a paintball fight. 7) Probably the most fun to join. And they're all physically fit. 8) You can get tattoos and battlescars and stuff. 9) Even the name"Dauntless" sounds awesome. 10) They're cool. - Anna V.
There is nothing more important than bravery. It leads us to stand up for what is right when no one else will. It allows us to be ourselves and defend ourselves. To be Dauntless means to be free. Plus, they clearly have the most fun. - Not So Epic A.M.Y.- A
I wanted to join dauntless to remind me that to truely live you must be brave. You must let go of your fears to make way for experiences. You must find the strength and the courage to build yourself up again when you are knocked down. And you must grasp every opportunity as it comes to you or risk never getting the chance to again. - Mischievous Pixie
I need to face my fears! - Amy's Book Den
I've always wanted to be brave. - Farin
I've always felt like I fit in with the Dauntless! I've been slowly overcoming some of my fears and I want to continue to be brave and overcome the rest of them! And not to mention, The DAUNTLESS ROCK!: ) - Hope, Faith, and Books
Dauntless are brave and not afraid to fight for what is right. They live on the edge and experience life to the fullest. - Lai
I love adventure. I love risk. Sitting in one place isn't me, I want action. - Anastasia
Because I believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives on person to stand up for another. - The Maniacal Bookworm
I admire the bravery in this faction. Not only that, though I firmly believe in fighting for what you believe in, no matter what the cost may be. - Geraldine
I want to stand up for other people, I want to be braver. Only the Dauntless faction can give me that! - Isabella C.
I have vowed to be in the Dauntless faction because this is the faction I belong in! I like to believe I'm a thrill seeker but I know I'm not — I want to be and I want to be able to face my fears. Having that courage will allow me to take risks and maybe one day be as brave as Tris and Four. They risk their very lives for what's important to them; be it friends, family, or love, and I want to be in a faction that promotes that type of bravery. I am ready to be Dauntless!! P.S. So when is knife practice? - The Bookworm is Here!
I want to join Dauntless because they are brave and exciting. - Page Turner
They are brave people. Willing to do what needs to be done. They can do big things and understand whats important. Plus they are super cool! - R. Mae
Well hells bells! Why wouldn't I? Slight addiction to tattoos? Check. Willingly jumps out of perfectly good airplanes? Check. Been known to have a problem with 'following the rules?' Check. Busts out in mama bear mode when someone I care about is being brought down? Check. Dauntless is to push the boundaries of WHO you are and WHAT you are willing to do to get what you want/need. Dauntless is to lead, not to follow. Dauntless is to DO when others say it can't be DONE. Dauntless is — ME. - Panic Written
Who wouldn't want to be Dauntless!!!!!!!!!!! Like its the best faction out there!: ) - Yasmine
I want to join cause I have very few fears, I love archery and things that gt my pulse going. I find life boring without things that scare me so im always bored. I am good with knives and a bow, I am decent with guns. This also seems fun - Nitro
The Dauntless faction represents not only fearlessness, but bravery and selflessness. All of these things are important to me as I continue to grow in my life and in the book worlds created by many wonderful writers. The least I can do to represent how important Divergent has been in my life is to join TEAM DAUNTLESS! - Miranda B.
I believe that Justice must be served in any way possible, and bravery is one of the most important traits, for how would anything ever have been done without someone being brave, taking a risk? Everyone is weak, but we can be strong if we believe, are brave, and take those chances. - Rachel M.
It's where I belong! - Ciji
I am in Dauntless because i will be brave and strong no matter what comes my way. - Kendra
Because cowards can not be tolerated. because there needs to be justice, and i will fight till the end to see that justice is served. because i will fight for my brothers and sisters just as they will fight for me. because you don't always know where you stand until you know that you wont run away, and this is where i make my stand this is where i make my choice to stand shoulder to shoulder with my Dauntless brothers and sisters and prove there is nothing to fear, except fear itself. - Mohawk
Why I want to join: 1. Because I believe that justice is more important than peace 2. Because I want to be free from fear 3. Because I believe in ordinary acts of bravery 4. And in Tris's words,"It was just because of the food.": ) - The Journey of a Young Writer
I personally love Dauntless. The strong, the brave, and the AMAZING all join together in one fabulous faction. I love to think that I'm all of the above. And the other factions? Well, they're going down. DAUNTLESS ALL THE WAY! - My Adventures in Wonderland
I am brave like the Dauntless. I am the kind of person who takes things head on and not care what happens. - Cole R.
Thanks again for helping #TEAMDAUNTLESS for #DivergentNation!
"'Crescendo' was a decent sophomore novel and if you didn't really "connect" with the exposition or rising action, that climax will definitely bring you back for more!" — Miss Remmers
Release Date: October 2010 Publisher: Simon & Schuster Challenges: Audiobook Challenge, Off the Shelf, 100+ Reading Challenge
"Nora should have know her life was far from perfect. Despite starting a relationship with her guardian angel, Patch (who, title aside, can be described anything but angelic), and surviving an attempt on her life, things are not looking up. Patch is starting to pull away and Nora can't figure out if it's for her best interest or if his interest has shifted to her arch-enemy Marcie Millar. Not to mention that Nora is haunted by images of her father and she becomes obsessed with finding out what really happened to him that night he left for Portland and never came home. The farther Nora delves into the mystery of her father's death, the more she comes to question if her Nephilim blood line has something to do with it as well as why she seems to be in danger more than the average girl. Since Patch isn't answering her questions and seems to be standing in her way, she has to start finding the answers on her own. Relying too heavily on the fact that she has a guardian angel puts Nora at risk again and again. But can she really count on Patch or is he hiding secrets darker than she can even imagine?"
Because it had been over a year since I read, it took me a few chapters to rediscover the plot and characters. I'm not sure if it's due to the time difference or the place I'm in currently, but this book just didn't hit me the same way "Hush, Hush" did. It's not that I disliked the book, it's just that I wasn't in a hurry to finish. Maybe I'm having a case of the Audio Blues — does this happen to anyone else?
Anyway, Vi, the best friend, annoyed me during the audio because I felt like the narrator was out of voices. But the actual character really impressed me — what an awesome friend! If I had to pick any recent book BFF for my real life friend I think it would be her. What she would do for Nora was absolutely endless and the girl definitely has spunk.
Patch was a bit more predictable and right from the get-go I was like, "Oh no," in regards to Nora's actions and reactions in love. I mean, this girl just needs to stop, let the hormones relax, think, and then act. There was a bit of a surprise at the end, and despite the predictability throughout the novel there were the moments (especially towards the end) where I was like "WHAAAAT!?" That alone was enough to get me excited for "Silence."
All in all, "Crescendo" was a decent sophomore novel and if you didn't really "connect" with the exposition or rising action, that climax will definitely bring you back for more! -Visit Becca around the web here: Website | Blog | Goodreads | Twitter -BUY THE BOOK: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes and Noble | Nook
Jenny stood frozen in the hallway just outside Teddy's room, body tense, feet rooted to the floor. The sound she'd heard from downstairs was louder now, and what she'd thought were the bumps and thuds of her little brother playing in his room after bedtime now appeared less innocent. As she gazed at him from the doorway, Teddy lay curled up in his Avengers comforter, eyes closed, chest heaving slow and steady as he slept. Alone.
But Janeny could still hear the footsteps.
Footsteps. Yes, that's exactly what they were. Heavy, plodding footsteps pacing back and forth across the floor of her kid brother's room, slightly uneven with a hiccup between every other step as if the person making them walked with a limp.
Person? Janeny swallowed, her throat parched and raspy. No"person" made these footsteps, unless Janeny had developed a sudden case of cataracts. Her eyes took in the entire length of Teddy's room, illuminated by the dullish blue glow of his night light, and nothing moved. Not even a flutter from the curtains, yet she could clearly make out the steady canter of the limping footsteps. She could actually trace them from left to right across the room, pausing for a split second at the closet door, then retreating to the other side of the room, pausing again at the edge of Teddy's bed. Rinse, repeat. Janeny couldn't pull her eyes away, her brain desperate to see something moving in the near darkness, unable to grasp what might be happening in her house.
Then, as suddenly as they began, the footsteps stopped.
Silence descended upon the house. Janeny continued to stand in the bedroom doorway, sweat beading on her upper li, despite the cold. Janeny realized she was shivering; all the warmth had been sucked out of the house.
That's when she felt it. A bony hand gripping her shoulder.
Jenny swung around and—
Meg dropped her pen on the bed as her cell phone purred from the nightstand. Once, twice, three times in rapid succession. She sighed and closed her writing journal, then reached across a stack of pillows and picked up her phone. Three texts, all from Minnie, and as she held the phone in her hand, debating whether or not she actually wanted to read Minnie's drunk texts from her boyfriend Gunner's Halloween party, the phone vibrated again. More messages.
Meg sighed. Typical.
She swiped her finger across the screen, and Minnie's texts began to scroll.
MINNIE: OMG, I can't believe you're not here. What were you thinking?
MINNIE: And don't give me that bullshit about being sick. What am I, stupid?
MINNIE: The whole football team's here. And half the cheerleading squad. This is the party of the century you're missing!
Meg laughed to herself. There was no place on the planet she'd less rather be than at Gunner's party.
Because if Gunner was there, his best friend T.J. would be, too.
And Meg couldn't handle that.
It was bad enough that Minnie was dating Gunner as a means to get closer to T.J., worse that Meg had been forced to listen to her best friend go on and on and on ad nauseum about T.J. during the last few months. It wasn't that Meg didn't like him. Nope it was much worse than that. Meg was in love with T.J., too.
She'd been hiding it from Minnie for so long it had become her baseline. Minnie would rhapsodize that someday T.J. would realize she was the perfect girl for him, and Meg would just nod and smile, all the while indulging in her own fantasies about T.J., his gorgeous dimpled smile, how his lips would feel pressed against her own…
In private, she could handle it. She could put on her game face when it was just the two of them hanging out. But at party after Minnie had downed a few beers? No way. Meg discovered first hand that spring just how painful it could be to watch Minnie throw herself at the boy Meg was in love with.
So Meg's coping mechanism? Fake the stomach flu, stay home, and write a new short story.
Buzz, buzz, buzz. Great. Minnie was in rare, needy form tonight.
MINNIE: I seriously have the best costume here. Sexy Alice in Wonderland FTW!
MINNIE: T.J.'s here. Of course. OMG, he's doing like a Johnny Depp pirate thing that is SO FUCKING SEXY.
MINNIE: I'll send you a photo of us, okay? Let me find him.
Sexy pirate thing? Meg dropped her phone on the bed. It buzzed almost immediately with new texts. Part of Meg desperately wanted to see the photo, a mash up of her love for Johnny Depp and her love for T.J. Fletcher. Then again, did she really want to see Minnie in her sexy Alice dress which barely covered her ass, thigh highs and pushed up cleavage, draped seductively over T.J.'s arm? She wasn't sure she could handle that. Again. Buzz. Buzz.
Dammit.
MINNIE: Huh. Can't find him. I swear T.J. was here a minute ago.
MINNIE: OMG, if he took off with that slut Brenda Raines I'm going to kick both of their asses.
T.J.: Are you home?
Meg froze.
T.J. was texting her? On Halloween? While he was at the"party of the century?"
A warmth spread across her chest, all stupid and silly and delicious in the way only a text from T.J. Fletcher could make her feel. With a trembling hand, she picked up her phone and typed,"Yeah."
The doorbell rang almost immediately. Meg caught her breath. Could it be T.J.?
Meg's dad stuck his head out of his bedroom door just as she stepped into the hallway."Trick or treaters?" he said, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose."At this hour?"
"I'll get it, Dad," Meg said, hoping her voice didn't sound too anxious.
He shrugged, and ducked back into his room. Thank God. If it was T.J. at the door, the last thing she needed was her dad hovering around her.
Meg reached the door and realized her heart was thundering in her chest. She needed to calm down. It's not T.J., she said to herself. Just a late trick or treater, like Dad said.
But as Meg switched on the porch light, she caught sight of a hat through the beveled glass windows in the front door.
A tri-corner night.
Like a pirate.
Ten by Gretchen McNeil Publisher: Balzer + Bray (September 18th, 2012) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardback: 294 pages SHHHH! Don't spread the word! Three-day weekend. House party. White Rock House on Henry Island. You do NOT want to miss it.
It was supposed to be the weekend of their lives—an exclusive house party on Henry Island. Best friends Meg and Minnie each have their reasons for being there (which involve T.J., the school’s most eligible bachelor) and look forward to three glorious days of boys, booze and fun-filled luxury.
But what they expect is definitely not what they get, and what starts out as fun turns dark and twisted after the discovery of a DVD with a sinister message: Vengeance is mine.
Suddenly people are dying, and with a storm raging, the teens are cut off from the outside world. No electricity, no phones, no internet, and a ferry that isn’t scheduled to return for two days. As the deaths become more violent and the teens turn on each other, can Meg find the killer before more people die? Or is the killer closer to her than she could ever imagine?
Prize:
1 winner will receive a signed copy of Possess.
Rules:
You must be at least 13 to enter.
Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
Contest is US Only and ends November 18th.
Once contacted, the winner will have 48 hours to respond.
The form must be filled out to enter.
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Amazon | Barnes & Noble Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here. Don't forget to check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post for today!
Please read:The post you are about to read is 100 % **Role Play All the characters represented here ( @The_Omega_ ) with the exception of Lisa and myself are **Role Players from a group on twitter. They have agreed to role play with us to help celebrate not only our Halloween Event, but also to help share our love for the Black Dagger Brotherhood series by author J.R. Ward, as these Role Players are also huge fans of J.R. Ward's works. PLEASE BE AWARE THAT NO ONE with this site/blog, Lisa's site/blog nor the role-playing group — which you can find with the list of twitter accounts provided — is in any way, shape or form connected to or affiliated with J.R. Ward. No one present or represented here is J.R. Ward, nor is the role playing intended for any purpose other than the personal enjoyment of the Role Players involved.
The following story contains some strong language and mature themes.The Favor by @The_Omega_ What is that spiteful b**** up to now?” I reached over to one of my pets, a strange mixed breed, part dragon, part cockatrice, all malevolence and anger. There are a total of six in existence. I bred them especially for aggression and protection, not that I really needed protecting or anything. But they come in handy when I need to intimidate my lessers. Or others. As I ran my arm over his bumpy scales, I thought back to the day the Scribe Virgin came to ask me a favor. It seems one of her precious warriors needed to be taught a lesson. He was a strong bastard and she had nothing with which she could impress upon him the lessons she felt he was in sore need of learning. I knew it was a sharp blow to her pride to have to come to me for anything. She had always been favored, in everything, and was loathe to have to ask me for help of any kind. In this it was no different. She entered my domain with a gust behind her, carrying that cursed scent from her Fade with her. “ Could I possibly borrow one of your dragons? I wish to curse one of my warriors, to teach him how to control himself and as I can think of nothing more out of control than your creatures, one of them would work nicely to punish him,” she asked without a hint of humility. She was asking me a favor and didn’t even have the decency to bow before me. I just looked at her, not saying a word. I could tell she was becoming impatient as she began to explain very quickly. “Rhage is impulsive and quick tempered. He’s also very strong and could take out many of your army before they even realize he’s there. It would be in your best interest for this warrior to be tamed.” I was hesitant to trust anything she said. I’m probably the only one who knows her truly. When our Father made us, it was assumed that she got the light while I got the darkness. We are supposedly two halves of a whole — she the positive and I the negative. Quite inaccurate. Our Father was mostly darkness and while it’s true all I got was that, it is also true that my dear sibling, while getting mostly goodness, also got a hefty dose of evil to go with it. She had a wicked mean streak that even her favorite monsters couldn’t escape. I would have said no out of hand, but I thought this would be an excellent way to dispatch of the Brotherhood immediately. I decided I would allow her to take the meanest, most out of control dragon I had, fully expecting that it would eat every vampire in the Brotherhood and make the rest of my job easy. There was no way, I thought, the Brother could possibly wrangle this monster.
“ You may have my favorite pet, but I have some conditions that must be met,” I said to her after a very long silence. “This isn’t something I do without great trepidation, knowing how horrid you are.” She waved her hand, as if to dismiss my concerns about her motives. She was always so dismissive of me and it drove me insane. “ No, sister mine, I will not be brushed off,” I growled in an ominous tone only I can pull off. “If you won’t agree to my demands, you shall not be allowed the use of my pet.” As I began to outline my requirements, a small smile played on her face. No one could tell me that the Scribe Virgin wasn’t sadistic. She was in absolute agreement that she borrow the most aggressive dragon, the one who would take the most work to control. She was happy to curse her warrior for 200 years, which I demanded to ensure the beast would have ample time to do its job. The only stipulation she balked at was my presence at the insertion. She didn’t want me there and I couldn’t understand why. “ I can’t be seen with you,” she said, aghast at the thought. “You can’t come to my sanctuary. You can’t be anywhere near me in any place where people might see us.” I put aside the insult. She had long since ceased to hurt my feelings with her obvious disgust at my very existence. “ Sorry, no deal. If I can’t be there to witness my pet, my baby, being implanted in that disgusting brute of yours, then you can’t have him,” I said as I turned away, fully prepared to send her away empty handed. I knew that would get her. One thing my darling sister couldn’t stand was being denied a chance to hurt another soul, even if was one that she had created. She liked to hide in her white world, where everything looked pristine and pure. However, anyone who looked closely at her behaviors, the things she did, the things she required before being willing to grant any favor, they would have seen the cruelty in her acts. “ I will agree to whatever you ask, brother,” she practically spat the word at me. “As you have asked a price for this, you must make sure the monster you give me will be the most difficult trial a warrior could possibly have to endure. If you don’t, I will find a way to make up the difference, and that will be most unpleasant for you. Of that you can be sure. Oh, and I shall have to hide you with a mhis. I wasn’t being facetious when I said I couldn’t be seen with you.” So the deal was struck. Within the blink of an eye, we were in front of the warrior, who had his head bent awaiting his punishment. I noticed the dead owl lying by the tree and I knew this vampire was in for more pain and suffering than he could possibly survive. My sister loved her birds and there was no way she was going to let this pass without extracting her pound of flesh. The Brother was larger than a typical vampire, but he was nowhere near big enough to contain my beast without a great struggle, and getting him into the vampire wasn’t going to be anything short of torturous. He was shaking a bit, perhaps in fear. Or maybe it was remorse, as he did seem to genuinely feel bad for whatever act had ended in the death of the owl. If he was smart, he would have been terrified. Whatever he felt, he kept his head bowed in shame and awaited his punishment with bravery. My sister, in her flowing black robe, was standing in front of the male. She reached down and grabbed him by his long, blond hair, yanking his head back until it looked like it was going to wrench from his neck. Looking into his face, she roared at him, “You have taken one of my most precious possessions.” The male just gaped at her, his eyes wide with surprise at her indignation. Tears were rolling down his face now as he stammered out a weak apology. His whole body was wracked with sobs. He blubbered about how he didn’t mean to do harm, how he hadn’t thought of the repercussions of giving his weapon to someone untrained. The words were coming out of his mouth so fast I had to struggle to understand what he was saying. I guess the male wasn’t stupid after all. He was petrified. From out of her robe, the Scribe Virgin pulled a large dagger. It was bone handled and looked like something with which a human would disembowel large game. Still looking directly into the vampire’s eyes, she took the knife and stabbed him in the throat. It made a sound of a stone dropping into wet cement, a slurping noise that would have caused a mortal to vomit. The male’s eyes did the impossible. They became even wider than they had been, taking up so much of his face that it appeared eyes were all he had. Pulling slowly, she dragged the blade down through his neck, his chest. The sickening sound of his sternum cracking was loud enough to startle the birds still left in the trees in this very twisted sanctuary. The strength she wielded to break through his rib bones one by one was impressive. My sister was watching the line of damage as she created it, her gaze not wavering from her bloody task for a moment. She didn’t stop until she had cut him all the way to his pubic bone. As intestines and entrails spilled out of the gaping hole my sister had gouged in this pathetic creature, she looked as if she was in ecstasy. Her head was tilted to the sky, the look on her face one of rapture. My sister had lost her mind in that moment. I was sure of it. The male looked as if he was screaming, though no sound was coming out. His eyes were wide but not seeing. His face was contorted in pain that most would be unable to live through, draining of color as the blood poured from the wound in his torso. There was so much blood, running in rivers down the hill, into the fountain, turning the water a deep hue of red that was terribly out of place in this sea of white. The vampire’s essence was leaving quickly as my sister was lost in her own private rampage. She actually seemed unaware of the harm she had done. As the warrior seemed to finally grasp the severity of the situation he was in, he resigned himself to the fate that would be conferred upon him. Any fight he may have had inside his large body left, just as the vital fluid was doing. Snapping out of whatever twisted reverie she was lost in, the Scribe Virgin captured my dragon by his barbed tail and set about the onerous task of forcing a very round peg into a very square and much smaller hole. Inch by inch, she pushed and shoved that 12 foot dragon into the opening she had created when she eviscerated the vampire. The sound of bones crunching was almost more than I could bear. Almost. The warrior’s face was a study in tortured agony. Sweat was pouring from his brow. His mouth was agape in a silent wail. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and still my sister continued her almost methodical invasion of the body she had laid open. When the dragon was finally well seated, crammed really, in the small space, she held her hand out, a light emanating from it, and she sealed the wound she had earlier created. She unceremoniously dropped her warrior, using that dangerous hand to clean up the mess she had made. The vampire curled into a ball then very violently splayed his body out, knowing that whatever was inside was too large for his shell to hold. Finally he found his voice and the silent screams became deafening shrieks and had my sister not covered her heinous act with a mhis that not only hid me from sight, but this entire gruesome scene, all of her innocent Chosen would have fled her presence in absolute terror. But the Scribe Virgin was nothing if not smart. She wasn’t going to let anyone see her madness. With another wave of her hand, she wiped the memory of what she had done from her creature’s mind and made sure the dragon was well ensconced inside his body, making them one. It was almost as if the male came awake, he startled and awareness returned to him. “ You will carry with you a curse, for two hundred years, to remind you of what you have done here. No more will you be able to think only of yourself, acting impulsively as only a young child should be wont to do,” she whispered into his face, so close to him it made even me shudder. “And you will be reminded every time you get even slightly out of control, because you will be visited by a beast so savage even those you love won’t be safe.” I left her garden impressed, and a little hopeful that perhaps she and I had come to some sort of understanding. Perhaps we would be able to work together in the future, not always be at odds. She had, after all, just brutally attacked the warrior race she claimed to love so much. Of course that isn’t what happened. Instead of being able to break free of its warrior prison and devour the Brotherhood, my sister enchanted the beast, protecting her vermin, and instead my dragon chose to eat my lessers. In the 99 or so years he’d been inside of that Brother, he hadn’t eaten a single one of the noxious rodents he should have preferred. That certainly should be a hint as to how slimy those freaks are, when even a dragon won’t eat one. My sister, the malicious Scribe Virgin, irritates me to no end. My life's mission has been to eradicate the disgusting species she created and she is seriously screwing that up. Everything she did is in direct opposition to me. Every single thing. And it is beginning to piss me off. She really is a spiteful b****.
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Reference:
**Role Play
–verb (used with object) 1. to assume the attitudes, actions, and discourse of (another), esp. in a make-believe situation in an effort to understand a differing point of view or social interaction: Management trainees were given a chance to role-play labor negotiators. 2. to experiment with or experience (a situation or viewpoint) by playing a role: trainees role-playing management positions. –verb (used without object) 3. to engage in role-playing.
Thank you so much to @The_Omega_ and all the other characters from the Black Dagger Brotherhood Twitter Role Play group for all the time and effort they have been putting in to help us celebrate not only Halloween and our event, but also our love for all that is the Brotherhood and J.R. Ward. * Check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post with Sara Bennett Wealer and a giveaway for a signed copy of Rival.
*Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here.
A Familiar Darkness By: J.W. Crawford It was dark, but no darker than a normal night. A perfect night for a walk. The noises in town were distracting from the peaceful quiet, so we decided to head out past the train tracks, where we would be surrounded by nothing but the evening quiet. No traffic, no groups of late night merrymakers, just the moon, the crickets, and the soft sounds of our own feet through the grass beside the road. As we neared the highway, the warning light blinked ominously, illuminating a herd of grazing elk in short bursts no more than twenty feet ahead of us. Being that close to the large animals was unnerving enough in the daytime, let alone at night, so we figured it would be a good idea to take another route. Turning back, we made our way back towards town. Just before we reached the train tracks, we found ourselves standing at the foot of a rough warden’s road that led through the trees. We weren’t satisfied with the walk, so we decided that it would be fun to extend it. As we entered the road, I felt the first tiny prickle of uncertainty float over me like a light breath in the wind. I hardly noticed it, thinking it to be little more than a light chill from the crisp night air. The chill got worse as we continued down the road. My friend noticed a sudden change in my composure; her hand clamped on my arm as we walked, growing tighter as my own body started to tense up. That strange feeling was quickly growing, and there was something else about it… something familiar. I could feel a presence behind me, a strangely familiar one. Part of me wanted to turn around, but something told me that wouldn’t be a good idea. The further we walked, the stronger that feeling grew. I could feel the tension in my friend growing as my own body trembled slightly, fighting the urge to just bolt the rest of the way down the road and never look back. As we approached a building just to the side of the warden’s road, the feeling became it’s most dangerous. I could feel ever hair standing up on my neck as we approached the building; the soft whisper of the wind seemed to carry a hint of sinister intention, despite the fact that I had no doubts anymore about the familiarity of the presence behind me. Whatever it was… whoever it was… it was close. I could almost feel it inches away from my skin, just waiting for me to turn; almost daring me. Fighting the urge, we continued past the building, not looking back until we were clear from the road and nearly back in town. The silence between us was deafening as we walked, unable to put the strange feeling into words. After a quick, dry goodnight, we went our separate ways. The next day plagued me with curiosity. Whatever had happened, it had somehow been connected to that building we had walked to. Deciding I needed to know, I made my way back to the road, protected by the bright, happy sunshine of mid-afternoon. The building turned out to be a storage warehouse, likely used for old RCMP equipment. Staring up at its giant white walls, I waited for that feeling to come over me again, but it was gone; my hair stayed flat, my nerves untouched, as though it had all been a dream. For a few minutes, I couldn’t understand what had happened. The building did seem familiar, but I couldn’t place where I had seen it before. It came to me in one slithery rush. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up, my mouth dry, my heart starting to pound. I knew where I had seen that building before. It had been years ago, 1995—my graduating year—while a gang of my classmates had been flushed out of a creek party by the RCMP. We had all meandered down that road, talking happily about past amusements and summer promises. A fun night, and one I remember well, though not for the good times and high spirits. It was the last place I had spoken to a classmate before he had been killed in a violent car crash at the end of that summer. As we walked past that building, I had been beside him, chatting away. He was a popular young man with the world ahead of him, and a short time later, all of that had been taken away in a crash that ultimately left two people dead. To this day, I have no doubt that the familiar presence behind me was my friend, the boy who had died long before his time should have come. A haunted spirit angry at the life he had lost, and the lonely eternity ahead.
Dreamshaper by J.W. Crawford Publisher: Black Rose Writing (October 1st, 2009) Reading Level: Young Adult Paperback: 238 pages Orson Bailey is used to trouble finding him. He has spent his young life ridiculed and bullied by his peers and tormented by his baby sister. Unfortunately, things are about to get a whole lot worse. At night, strange happenings have begun to creep into Orson's mind: vivid dreams and nightmares so realistic and frightening that they start to affect his already sour relationship with both his classmates and family. His entire world is thrown into upheaval when his darkest wish is granted and his sister disappears, stolen into the world of dreams. Through the darkness, Orson unexpectedly develops a bond with a few of his classmates. Together, they must find a way to survive a world filled with magical creatures of pure and dark origins, a world of dreams where anything can happen and where Orson must discover his destiny as the one true Dreamshaper in order to save his sister.
Prize:
1 winner will receive a copy of Dreamshaper.
Rules:
You must be at least 13 to enter.
Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
Contest is US ONLY and ends October 31st.
Once contacted the winner will have 48 hours to respond with their mailing address.
The form must be filled out to enter.
Find J.W. Crawford J.W. Crawford / Facebook
Purchase Dreamshaper Amazon / The Book Depository
* Check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post.
*Reminder: If you are interested in the COMMENT CONTEST, remember to include your email address with your comment for an extra entry! Please read full entry rules here.
Hosted by Sheila — Thank you! Last week was probably my most productive in a long time! I finished "Crossed" by Ally Condie, "Silence" by Becca Fitzpatrick, and "Replication: The Jason Experiment" by Jill Williamson! I'm feeling on fire!:) This week I'd like to finished "Cinder" by Marissa Meyer and "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern.
"Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of New Beijing. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows that Earth’s fate hinges on one girl... .
Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg. She’s a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister’s illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai’s, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world’s future."
"The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night.
But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway—a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them, this is a game in which only one can be left standing, and the circus is but the stage for a remarkable battle of imagination and will. Despite themselves, however, Celia and Marco tumble headfirst into love—a deep, magical love that makes the lights flicker and the room grow warm whenever they so much as brush hands.
True love or not, the game must play out, and the fates of everyone involved, from the cast of extraordinary circus per formers to the patrons, hang in the balance, suspended as precariously as the daring acrobats overhead. "
For the second week in a row, I'd like to welcome this week's Guest Reviewer Kath.
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From Amazon.com...
"First published in 1992 and even more relevant now, Daniel Pennac's quirky ode to reading has sold more than a million copies in his native France. Drawing on his experiences as a child, a parent, and an inner-city teacher in Paris, the author reflects on the power of story and reminds us of our right to read anything, anywhere, anytime, so long as we are enjoying ourselves. In a new translation with a foreword and illustrations by Quentin Blake, here is a guide to reading unlike any other: fresh, sympathetic, and never didactic, it is a work of literature in its own right." Cast your mind back. You're seven years old and you've just got your very own library card. Surrounded by silence and the smell of words and promised adventures, you run giddily towards the children's section. You run your hand over the shelves of books, some smooth, some bumpy, all tagged with some weird and unfathomable code. Before you know it, you've picked up something that has caught your attention and you've settled into the bright red beanbag for the long haul. You forget where you are, consumed by the voices and exploits of Asterix or the Famous Five and you can't believe it's time to go already when, an hour later, your Mum comes round the corner to find you.
Every week you come back and you always leave with a pile of books, one of which you're usually half way through by the time you get home. The need to read consumes you: you sneak off to the toilet to get in a few pages, you read late at night with a torch under the bedcovers. You are, in fact, a veritable addict, looking feverishly along the shelves to find your next hit. Then, somewhere along the line, something happens. Reading loses some of the joy it once held — it becomes, unthinkably, a chore. A task that has to be completed by next Monday, with an 800 word essay to boot. High school literature studies have come home to roost. English class is now peering over your shoulder, pointing out that you shouldn't be reading that book, you should read this one, the required text. You know, the one sitting ominously on your desk, unreadable and daunting. This is where the education system, according to Daniel Pennac, fails our kids. I recently read his amazing book The Rights of the Reader (translated by Sarah Adams) as part of a bookring through Bookcrossing and was very pleasantly surprised. I was expecting something completely different — a fun and lighthearted look at reading as a hobby — but was met with an entertaining and brilliantly written manifesto on the importance of teaching our future generations to love reading and not make it a "should" — a word sure to kill any desire to do something. Pennac points out that as kids, we loved to hear stories and would beg our parents again and again to read us our favorite books. It is in this tradition of oral storytelling, he argues, that reading is based. It's our desire to hear new stories and follow new heroes on new adventures that drives us from one finished book to the next new one. But as soon as interfere with our child's relationship with books and we disturb the private "alchemist's voice" in their minds, we start to suck their joy out of their reading experience. This, claims Pennac, is a crime of epic proportions. A relationship with books is one of the most consistent and satisfying ones that most people will have in their lives, after all. The solution? Simple, claims Pennac. Take it back to the basics — oral storytelling. Read to those who have become disenchanted by the hard slog of required textbooks and compulsory reading. Re-introduce that spark. Draw them back in. Before you know it, they'll have rediscovered that "alchemist's voice" and they'll be off in their own private world of books again. This book was a really fascinating read for me as I recognized that I had suffered a period of book fatigue until pretty recently. As a kid, I was the one hiding under the sheets with a book and a torch. I read an insane amount of books from all sorts of genres, right up until the age of 15 — that's when it started for me. Required reading to be completed within a ridiculously short period of time, essays to write and not to mention maths homework and geography study... Luckily, I've rediscovered that old spark and have come back to the ranks of the voracious reader — one "right" at a time. If there's anyone out there that has lost their spark, or knows someone who is struggling with reading — I highly recommend this book. It'll surely help you bring them back from the brink of a world without books.
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Big thanks to Kath for this wonderful review. Please stop by, share some book love, and read the original review.
The authors of The Recipe Club have written a Thanksgiving article that, thanks to Caitlin from FSB Associates, I am able to post for your Thanksgiving holiday taste buds. I hope you are all gearing up for a wonder Thanksgiving Holiday!
Tales of Thanksgiving Food and Friendship By Andrea Israel and Nancy Garfinkel, Authors of The Recipe Club: A Tale of Food and Friendship
For some people, Thanksgiving evokes warm feelings triggered by memories of a close-knit family gathering, where relatives share traditions and a home-cooked meal.
For others... it's the beginning of a holiday season stuffed with lunatic relatives, family dysfunction, bitter recriminations, and heartburn.
We heard a wide range of Thanksgiving Tales this year while traveling around the country for our Recipe Clubs. Inspired by the plot and structure of our book, Recipe Clubs are storytelling and friendship circles in which women gather to share true-life food-related stories along with recipes. Recipe Clubs are not about cooking; they're about creating community and fostering friendship... they're about laughing and crying... they're about honoring our own lives and the lives of others. They show us how the simplest, sweetest, or funniest tales about food can turn into deep revelations about our lives.
Just about everybody has at least one quintessential Thanksgiving food memory that perfectly captures the complicated feelings surrounding the holiday. Here are some of our favorites:
GIVING THANKS One Recipe Club friend recalls the first time she ever cooked a Thanksgiving meal on her own. Her mother, who traditionally did the meal, was recovering from surgery. Her father was working. And her sister was flying in just in time for the meal, but not early enough to help cook.
So our friend rose to the challenge, proclaiming that she would do the entire meal, on her own. No problem — until reality set in. She woke at dawn, shopped, chopped, and soon realized her oven was half the size it needed to be. By the time the turkey wanted basting the chestnut stuffing required baking — and the brussel sprouts were definitely not cleaning themselves!
But things really went south when it came time prepare her grandmother's famous pumpkin pie. This was the pie recipe that had been handed down through generations. If it didn't come out perfectly, our friend knew she'd feel like a failure.
Of course, nothing went right. The pie crust was too wet, then too dry. There was too much nutmeg, not enough ginger. With every crimp of the dough her head swam with the imagined voice of her southern grandmother: "A woman is judged not just by who she is, but by what she can bring to the table."
When the pie came out of the oven, the crust was too brown, and there was a giant crack running down the middle of the filling. Our friend fought back tears, took a deep breath, and set the pie out to cool, knowing more clearly than ever that neither it — nor she — was, or would ever be, perfect.
But when it came time for everyone to gather at the table, something shifted. Her parents and sister praised her hard work and loved the meal. And our friend realized she had somehow been carried on the wings of the generations of women who had cooked before her, without complaining, to serve a Thanksgiving meal to their family. She felt truly thankful for all the work that her mother, grandmother, aunts — indeed all the women she'd known through her life — had accomplished each holiday. Triumphant, connected, and happy, she understood that food cooked with love is its own kind of perfection.
FINALIZING THE DIVORCE One Recipe Club friend recalled her first Thanksgiving after her divorce.
Since carving the bird had always been her ex-husband's job, she delighted in finding a new, turkey-free recipe. She settled on an apricot-glazed ham, and went to work cooking a glaze of brown sugar, cloves, and apricot nectar (an ingredient that gave her extra pleasure knowing her ex-husband detested it.)
When her grown children came for dinner, they were childishly upset not to have their usual 12-pound bird. But it was delicious, and in the end each one complimented the chef. On her way out, the youngest daughter told her mother, "maybe we all need to learn how to gracefully accept change."
For this new divorcee, serving ham became a way of asserting her independence, showing her children there was life after marriage, and teaching the whole family to find new ways to be together.
IT'S ALL RELATIVE The truth is, we don't pick our relatives. So if the Thanksgiving gathering of the clan is an annual emotional challenge, you aren't alone.
In a recent Recipe Club circle of old friends and new acquaintances, we met a woman who admitted that for most of her life she dreaded Thanksgiving; all it evoked for her were memories of family fights. The contrast of what she knew Thanksgiving was "supposed" to be, versus what it was in her home, always made her feel ashamed and disappointed. And yet every November she felt compelled go home for a family Thanksgiving meal.
But one year, that changed, when her parents and brother decided to have Thanksgiving away from home. They journeyed together to Nantucket, where they ate dinner at a seaside inn. The inn served a New England clam chowder, rich with cream and warm on a cold autumn night. And they discovered that a new location, with new foods, away from the house where memories were often more fiery than the jalepeno cornbread, turned out to be just what the family needed.
Now, every year, back at home, they have a new tradition: serving New England Clam Chowder at their Thanksgiving feasts, each spoonful bringing back fond memories of a peaceful and loving family holiday.
A FAMILY OF FRIENDS Finally, a little tale of food and friendship.
A reader of our book told us that she had a choice this year. She could invite Uncle Tim and Aunt Zoe, the way she does every year, and spend the entire holiday worrying about whether or not the perpetually complaining couple were happy. She could include cousins Beth and Sean, knowing they would be competitive, putting down her choice of food, her way of cooking, her table setting. She could extend an invitation to her brother and dreaded sister-in-law, who would sit in silence the entire meal and pick at the food.
Or... she could shake things up and do something entirely different: invite only friends. True friends. People she enjoyed being with. Who made her laugh. Who spoke truthfully. Who shared her passions for good books, good wine, and good music.
She took the leap. She dumped the whiners, broke with tradition, irritated several family members — and never looked back. The moral: good food and good friends are the perfect combination. Sometimes it's a good idea to trim the guest list before you serve the bird with all its trimmings.
Author Bios for The Recipe Club: A Tale of Food and Friendship
Andrea Israel is a producer/writer for ABC's Focus Earth. She was a producer/writer on Anderson Cooper 360, Dateline, and Good Morning America (which garnered her an Emmy Award). Her story In Donald's Eyes was recently optioned for a film. Ms. Israel is the author of Taking Tea. Her writing has appeared in many publications.
Nancy Garfinkel is co-author of The Wine Lover's Guide to the Wine Country: The Best of Napa, Sonoma, and Mendocino(Chronicle Books, 2005). A creative strategist, design consultant, writer, and editor for magazine, corporate, and non-profit clients, she has won a host of graphic arts and editorial merit awards. She has written extensively about food and graphic arts.
For more information please visit www.therecipeclubbook.com
Once the school bells ring, signalling that Thanksgiving Break has finally started, I will be Thankfully Reading. While I can't devote my entire weekend to reading as my family will be here tonight and tomorrow, I do want to rejuvenate and hopefully kick over my TBR where it needs to be (doubtful).
Tonight, for instance, my family will be visiting from Northern Minnesota. As I prepare dinner and clean the house I'll be listening to "Torment" by Lauren Kate. On Thursday as we relax/cook before the feast I'll be reading "Crossed."
So between books and audios, this weekend I'd like to complete:
