If you aren't following me on Twitter, please do! I post a bunch of micro stories. Here are some of my faves so far.

Ken rose from his grave looking for love. "Love!" he cried, reaching out. But the only sound he could make was "Brains!" Close enough.

Dark energy gathered around Honey as she raised the Doomstaff overhead. Soon, the valley would bow before the power of an angry bunny!

I woke up much older today. I must have time traveled in my sleep again, but no one seems to notice. How do I get back?

Conrad rose from his cryo-chamber like a vampire from his coffin. "Am I cured?" he croaked. "Not yet, my love," she said. "Sleep a while."

"Are you alive?" asked Karen as the android drew her close. "Does it matter?" he whispered and kissed her cheek. Her heart ticked faster.

Brad knew he was dumb, but now that he had a jetpack, no one would expect him to break IN to prison. "Who's the dummy now?" he shouted down.

The tentacle quickly withdrew when the light came on, but poor Diana didn't notice the ripple when she lifted up the toilet lid.

Going werewolf would leave a bad first impression. Plus, Reggie felt an overwhelming desire for human flesh. This was not a good first date.

"No, you still can't go swimming," she told her son's third head. Raising a hydra was hard work, she sighed. Then his fourth head came over.

Lincoln gasped his first breath after his long, cold sleep. When his ears stopped ringing, there was a new sound: silent dead engines.

Oh, I should be writing, should I? Well maybe YOU should pop in and see my Twitter feed. No, really, you should. My favorite thing to do there is post micro "Teeny Tiny Twitter Stories". They're fun and challenging and totally free.

Grab BOTH collections of my short stories "31 Improbable Adventures" in honor of my birthday.

November 9-13

https://goo.gl/IOPvvE  and https://goo.gl/S4UnNY 

​

The Waiting Game
 
Trapped. We were locked away in our wretched prisons, cursed to an existence of misery and waiting. From outside our cells, people passed by, unaware of our torment. They looked up at us and we back at them, and yet they perceived nothing. We wailed and cried out in our torment, but they didn’t hear us. They just shivered and hurried away.

For three and half centuries – the full length of a high priest’s power to cast – we waited. And watched. Lady Hyacinth of Gent, in particular, paid our wailing special heed. She alone seemed able to hear our cries. The Lord of Gent responded by covering our prisons over with black cloths. And so, for nearly a century, we were left in darkness.

Finally, when the time of our torment had passed and we expected the return or a new priest to entrap us once again, our veils were lifted and we saw daylight. But rather than a priest, strangers greeted our eyes. They were dressed in light, brightly colored, and surprisingly revealing clothes, two young boys – no, a young man and a woman with hair like a man – looked up at us.

“Whoa, Susan, check this out,” said the boy, gazing up at us.

Then they weren’t priests at all! No one had come to entrap us!

“Totally wicked,” she breathed, clearly amazed at the artistry that went into crafting our cells. We shrieked at them both to leave and the pair of them shivered as one in reply.

“Dude!” the young man cried. “Did you feel that?”

“For sure, this place really is haunted. How awesome is that? I got goosebumps.”

It was just as well that fresh visitors had come. The bonds of our prisons were weakening and we could sense the fibers beginning to grow soft. Soon, we would break free and would have these two young fools as new hosts. At long last, the curse would be shattered and the old spirits of the house of Gent would reclaim their castle. The land would be cast into a darkness that would last a thousand years and no priest would be able to break it! We would reign terror such as would make our former glory look like a mere practice in the black arts.

There! The surface of the world rippled like a stone being tossed into a pond. We could see the castle hall begin to warp and shimmer. We could feel the bonds loosening. Don’t leave, little ones! Wait for us! Wait!
“Darren, check this out,” the girl said, looking down. It was just as well. If she saw our faces spring to life, she’d be struck dead with fright and would be ruined as a vessel.

“It’s an inscription,” said the boy, Darren. He read aloud, “’Let the bonds of eternity and the hand God hold back the darkness of these cursed souls. Let their place forever be here in this darkest hall that they shall roam no more.’”

A collective shriek shot through the entire household of Gent. We cried out in horror as the bonds snapped tight like a noose around our necks. Impossible! It could not be! The boy wasn’t even a priest!
​
“Freaky weird,” said the girl, tugging at the boy’s arm. “Let’s get out of here. These paintings are giving me the creeps.”

I definitely love some Doctor Who 'round here. Not sure what I think of the new sonic screwdriver, but I'll give it a chance. I've got a replica of the previous one on my desk and the claws pop out, so it's cool.

Here are the new book covers which I think are kicking fanny over the originals. They say you can't judge a book by its cover, but I also believe that you never get a second chance to make a good first impression. Here is my best foot forward!

Yeah, that's happening! Get BOTH of the "31 Improbable Adventures" books on Kindle for the low, low price of FREE. Zip. Zero. Nada. No catch. No strings. Just free stories.

That's a grand total of 62 improbable adventures for the price of none! Just spread the word about your favorite author and drop a review when you've read the stories and I'll feel more than compensated for my spine-tingling prose.

BOOK 1 on Kindle
BOOK 2 on Kindle

Hurry up! The promo is going live Sunday September 6 through Thursday, September 10

Good news, everyone! The second edition of "31 Improbable Adventures" is all wrapped up and heading to Amazon. Along with the new book comes a new cover and a reworked version of the first volume's cover.

Hello, dear readers! I am super delighted to announce the final story in my new collection "31 Improbable Adventures - volume 2"

You can expect some kind of promo period (like free!) and then it will sit at .99 on Amazon. Here's the final entry in the collection, "Day of the Migrants".

Day of the Migrants

The Elders felt the change on the wind and the people made ready for the migration. Tents were broken down, belongings packed and animals tied together into small flocks. It was an event that was unspoken and unwritten (the Sha'orl have no written language) but was carried out at the appointed time nonetheless. No one knew how the Elders could sense that it was time, but understood that when the Elders packed up and walked away, it was time to follow them.

Someday, the children would lead the Sha'orl on this same journey, but for now they ran and played and got in the way, dropping as many items as they carried on their low, arched backs. Heads down and bundles stacked high on every sloped shoulder, the people trudged across the blue sands and waving red grass, leaving the valley behind and putting the mountains ahead.

Mute, no one spoke. They stopped at nightfall, having caught up to the place where the Elders made camp, and listened to the stories they played. The sun was coming up, burning the valley and laying waste to the place they had called their home. They played songs of mourning in the dawn, their flutes and drums filling the air with somber tones that brought tears to many eyes. But in the sadness of loss, new life was promised. Any who could make it through the harsh journey would find the valley renewed and wiped clean, ready to be planted once again. It was a bitter hope, but it was hope just the same. The children would grow up hard and strong. Their shoulders would grow tall, their feet would grow tough, but they would grow up knowing how to survive.

Before the sun rose too high in the sky, the migrants moved on. They found shelter from the angry sun in the cool shade of the mountains, but still they pressed onward. In the heat of the long day, the Elders grew weary and slept, left behind as markers on the path. The stories they played on their drums would be remembered. They would not be forgotten.

When the sun finally sank in the sky, the people returned to their ancestral home in the valley. The ones who still lived brought new infants into the world and planted new fields. The children had grown up on the migration and now they were tired too. They watched their village grow and played the songs that the Elders had taught them.

In their joy, they felt sadness. Soon, they knew, the sun would rise in the sky once more and they would have to lead their people away. How short their time in this happy valley was! How brief, their moment in the glow of the moon. They were mute; they couldn’t possibly tell their children how very short their time was. They weren’t sure that the young ones could even understand.

At the first glint of light in the night sky, they knew it was time to move on. The migration had begun.

Forest of Life
(Inspired by my sis)

Tommy “TJ” Jacobs was dead, that much was certain. Hit by a bus trying to cross the street while drunk. (TJ, not the bus). Funny thing was, he wasn't quite as “dead” as one might usually expect to be. He woke up, gasping for air and not able to get any in a pitch black room. He tried to yell out, but he couldn't make a sound. What the heck? Was he paralyzed? Was he in a coma? That would be just his luck. His girlfriend, Ally, would probably run off with one of those stupid New Age hippies she was always hanging around with. Shambam. Sham-law. Whatever they called it when they all got together to hum in his atrium.

What Tommy couldn't possibly know was that his suspicions were off the mark. (Mostly off the mark.) Ally was broken up when he died and gave him the best cremation his ill-gotten cash could buy. She even had a beautiful meditative service in the woods out back of Tommy's mini mansion with some of her friends. It was beautiful. They got an eco-urn from an online retailer that promised a “positive environmental footprint” and poured his ashes in with the oak seed. When the tree grew in their woods, it would be like Tommy was still there. She threw her arm around her friend Jordan and headed back to the house. He was always there for her when things were bad. Like when Tommy came home drunk and angry. He never seemed to have peace in life—only violence. Now, maybe he could find peace in a better place.

Tommy woke up. He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep, but now it felt like he was drowning. It was pouring rain and he was getting drenched. Wait a minute. Was he still in the dark place? If he was, how did he know it was raining? He tried to open his eyes and couldn’t manage it, but he could still see somehow. Freaky. He was looking down from a high place and he nearly had a heart attack. “Sweet mercy! I'm going to heaven!” he thought, but he stayed put, looking down, not moving. Wait a minute. He wasn't flying. He was up a tree or something. There were kids running around playing a game down below and he yelled for them to get help, but he couldn't make a sound. This was impossible!

“Don't bother trying to speak,” someone said close by.

He tried to turn, but couldn't move. He really was paralyzed! “Who said that? Where are you? What's going on?” he asked all at once.

“You're part of us now,” another voice said softly, almost like it was speaking right inside his head. Another told him, “You're in the forest of life. Some of us are on the other side of the world, but you can still hear us. It's beautiful, isn't it?”

“Beautiful my rear-end!” Tommy screamed. Wait a minute. Did he even have a rear-end? Holy cow, he didn't have a rear-end!

Tommy woke up again. It was storming. (How in the world did he keep falling asleep?) “Hey! You! Voice! Where are you?” he shouted, but no answer came. What was that weird voice saying before? Was he really a flipping tree now? What the heck kind of reincarnation mumbo-jumbo was this? Stupid Ally! It was probably her fault! Well, he wasn't going to have it. If that bus didn't do him in, then maybe the storm would. Anything would be better than living as a tree. He stretched his tall branches up into the storm and waited. He fell asleep.

Tommy woke up again on a crisp autumn day with his leaves falling off. “Stop going to sleep!” he screamed. He fought hard to stay awake and actually did pretty well, keeping his mind alert all season long. People came and went below him. Time passed and he almost gave up on getting hit by lightning until one day when Ally came by to see him. With her husband. And kids. That lousy, no-good, unfaithful woman had kept his house! That did it! Maybe if he could get himself killed as a tree he could come back as something more useful. Like a pit-bull.

Years went by. Storms came and went and he missed his chance. At last, his moment came. He found himself waking up again, falling to the ground and on fire. It didn't hurt at least. “See ya later, suckers!” he yelled to the voices. They had all been quiet for so many years, he thought they had all died. But as he lay on the ground awake for a month, he heard their voices again. “You will die, but you will live.” He shot back in the weird language of trees, “Not on your lives, freaks! I'll tell the devil you said hi.”

Tommy woke up. Grass grew tall over his head. What was going on here? He shouted out in his mind, but the other trees didn't answer. Then he figured it out. Acorns had fallen from his branches. He was alive again! Stupid Ally! This was all her fault! He wished he had fallen on the house. Or on Ally. The only good news was that he was dying of thirst. Literally. Even the grass was brown. They must be having a drought, so at least he'd be dead soon. Dead the right way this time. It was weird enough having a second life; he sure didn't want a third.

Tommy woke up. He was so thirsty. This was it. He'd die a sprout before he got stuck again. It was a lousy way to go, but no worse than being hit by a drunk bus. Or was it him that was drunk? He couldn't remember. “Goodbye, you weird world. So long, stupid talking trees,” he gasped.

Tommy woke up. A golden retriever was nearby and was just lowering its leg. He didn't feel thirsty anymore.