A Glimpse at Savannah Dawn’s Unconsecrated Visions (Friday’s Free-For-all)

Every young girl has dreams. Some dream of being a supermodel or a nurse, a doctor or a fireman, a teacher, a writer or a rock star. Savannah Dawn has dreams too. But she mostly dreams of a life without nightmares.

Chapter 1

My name is Savannah Dawn and I was named for the place of my conception, whatever that means. I’ll be eleven years old come next March. I love to swim and I hate school. I guess that’s all I know to say about myself except sometimes I see things… like in a dream. Not the stuff most folks talk about. I’ve never dreamed of falling off a cliff or being naked in public and besides those things aren’t scary. As a matter of fact I think dreams like that are silly. There aren’t any cliffs around here and the only time I take my clothes off is to bathe and then I put them right back on.

The dreams used to bother me but they don’t anymore.  When I was younger I would wake up crying in the middle of the night. Mama would bring me a glass of milk and sit beside me in the dark. I’d tell her what I saw and she’d say, “they’re just nightmares honey; nothing but unconsecrated visions.” As I got older I felt like Mama didn’t want to hear about the things that troubled my slumber. A few times it seemed to rile her so I learned to stay quiet and get my own milk. When she mentioned it to the doctor I told him I didn’t see things anymore. But I did.

Most times what I dream comes to pass but every so often it doesn’t and that’s a good thing. It gets tiresome seeing all the sorrow in peoples past and the tragedy some are headed for. Too bad I never saw what lay in store for Papa; it would have saved us all a heap of sorrow.

Preacher Zeb calls them revelations and says I shouldn’t tell a soul about what I see except him. Zeb is an ex-Marine and a retired pastor. He was also my papa’s best friend. Last summer he baptized me in the Neches River with only God as our witness. We made a pinky swear to keep it secret. A pinky swear ain’t like a promise to God – it’s a promise not to tell Mama. She would have had a fit knowing I washed my sins in dirty water not to mention I nearly drowned while waiting on the Holy Spirit.

My sister got the spirit once at The First Assembly of God in downtown Trinity. She was sitting on the front pew making goo-goo eyes at Brother Tim when all of a sudden she went limp as a dish rag. The brother hollered ‘hallelujah’ and flew down from the pulpit. He smacked her on the forehead then Jodi jumped up and started shaking all over and everybody went crazy. It took me a minute to realize what was going on; it took Mama about a minute and a half. Jodi said she felt like a movie star when the whole congregation wanted to touch her. She done it so folks would think she was special, that’s what she said. I always thought she was special so I didn’t care one way or the other but it sure was funny watching her dance around with her hands in the air shouting alley baba – naba -naba daba- daba doo. She was doing a different dance after we got home and Mama whipped her for blaspheming the Holy Ghost.

I don’t like referring to the Lord’s essence as a ghost. Mama says they’re the same thing but I know she’s never seen either one or she wouldn’t say that.  I also know spirits don’t always live in a body; some of them live in drinks of alcohol….

This twisted little gem is only 99¢ at your favorite retailer.

The audio (amusingly narrated by Kelley Mack) is available at Audible, Amazon & iTunes.

HaPpY FriDaY Y’all.

Behind Door Number Four (And Where the Heck is Donald Crowley?)

I would like to think Donald Crowley would be impressed with this new cover but he (for whatever reason)  is not returning my calls.

Encase you don’t know Don, here’s a little bit about him — or rather his past.

Donald S. Crowley was a CPA by day; a bean counter; a number cruncher and a certified bore. By night he was as stimulating as the hero in his latest read with all the social skills of a brick and to make matters worse he was in love with a door. Not just any door, number four was special. Her alluring smile had caught Donald’s eye when he was just a boy and she called him by name. Despite years of therapy and medications she still called to him. Now he would risk his life to see her again and to finally know what lay behind
Door Number IIII.

Available wherever e-books are sold.

Mad Monday (Break the Rules)

You know I mentioned going to Benton Arkansas last Friday.
It was a nice break. We shopped a little, ate too much, chattered like magpies and — well, I just had to see the old sanitarium/asylum aka “nervous hospital” where Karl spent most of his life.
Thank goodness my family is as adventurous and crazy as me.
There were no observable signs that forbade us from entering, so…
We considered going in a window but oddly enough we did not have to.

The doors seemed to beckon and willingly opened without the slightest resistance and ta-da, we were in.

and we are in... (800x533)

Exploring the dilapidated history in search of answers and ghosts and what-ifs.

And possibly inheriting a demon or a deadly disease. :/

What does this story have to do with writing?
This: Every now and then you have to break the rules to spice things up.
Of course you need to know the rules before you break them and sometimes the rules are not obvious.

Write On!!

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost (Sneaky Saturday)


Yesterday’s Free-for-all was kind of a Freaky Friday, let’s call today’s Sneaky Saturday. As in sneak a peak at Chapter 14 from book 3 in the Clan Destiny series, Unjustified Favor. If you’re not already familiar with these cooky characters well… that’s a shame. animated-gifs-ghosts-17



Chapter 14

It was midnight before the van pulled up at the estate, and just as Tallulah had said, there were two huge iron letters hanging at the entrance, LE. The landscape looked much as it did when Maggie had left it in the dead of night years ago. She could see the Spanish moss blowing silently in the breeze while the ancient oaks that gave it refuge stood silent and proud.

The entire house was lit except for the master bedroom. She felt sure the suite had intentionally been left dark. In the moons glow she could see through the rails of the balcony into her old boudoir, but only lines and shadows.

She fully expected to have anxiety when she arrived but oddly enough, she did not. She could recall the beating and the humiliation with barely a rise in her heart rate. She could remember her stillborn son without an overwhelming sorrow. Linda watched her closely, snooping just at the edge of her sister’s emotions. At the first sign of stress they would head into town and get a room. But Maggie was calm, eerily calm.

“Are you okay sweetie?” Larry whispered as he took Maggie’s hand.

“I’m fine.” She smiled, pulling his hand to her face.

The children had slept for the last four hours of the trip and when Mary put the van in park it roused them.

“I’ll bet we’ve got a bunch of wet bottoms.” Maggie said as she lifted Lawren from the seat.

“Yeah, we should change the babies. The men can unload the luggage.” Linda added.

“You men heard that didn’t you? “ Levi asked as he stepped out and stretched, “Be sure and get everything, me and Boy are gonna take a walk and stretch our legs.”

“You can do that after you get all of our things unloaded.” Mary told him.

“I thought that’s why Steve and Larry came along – to do the heavy lifting.” He joked.

“I don’t mind getting it Levi; you go ahead and walk your dog.” Steve offered.

“Don’t suck up to that old fart Steve. Make him get it his self.” Larry teased, heaving bags from the rear.

“You hush! Let that boy suck up if he wants to.”

“Hey, speak of sucking–”

“Don’t say it!” Linda yelled from the doorway, “Don’t you dare say it Steven!” The three men laughed as each one threw a tote over their shoulder and grabbed a suitcase on wheels and followed the women to the front door.

“Lawdy lawd, I’m glad y’all finally made it. Hallelujah. Now get on in here and make yo selves at home.” Tallulah said hugging each one as they entered. “Mercy me look at all them babies. They is some perty babies too, ever last one of `em. And they all look like their mama’s – not that you daddy’s is ugly- you was prob’ly perty when you was a baby.” The heavy woman chuckled slapping her hands against her thick thighs.

When Maggie started with the introductions the old nursemaid politely stopped her.  “I know who everyone is.” She smiled, pointing at each individual as she called them by name. “And you all just call me Tallulah.”

“Alright, Tallulah can you show us to our quarters? These young uns’ need some dry britches.” Steve said, attempting a more southern drawl. His effort went unnoticed.

The exterior had not changed much but the interior of the historic mansion bore only a slight resemblance to the stuffy manor that Maggie recalled. The looming portraits of the Lafont’s were gone along with the heavy drapery. Linda and her mother kept a mental finger on the former debutante’s cerebral pulse as the group ascended the staircase. The flickering images became more pronounced when they reached the landing across from the master suite.

“Why do you have a padlock on the door?” Maggie asked, wrestling with the memories, the taste of soap and blood in her mouth, her head bouncing off the door facing and then the marble sink, her pulverized reflection in the mirror. Linda felt her siblings anxiety and a strong desire to react until she heard her mother’s reprimanding.

Wait! Let Maggie deal with this. Tallulah looked to the crowd, her joyful face suddenly solemn and at a loss for words. Mary nodded to her and the hostess cleared her throat and announced,

“I keeps the ghosts in there. I know walls don’t mean nothin’ and neither do that lock – but it makes me feel better and lets `em know I mean business.” 

“I knew this was a bad idea.” Levi said, holding Adam’s head to his shoulder, “You boys load the van and we’ll drive on into town. There’s three rooms waiting for us at the-”

“No!” Maggie interrupted. “I’m staying. If you’re scared you can go ahead and leave but I’m not.”

“Are you sure Magpie?” her father asked, “Bad memories are one thing but ghosts… well I don’t know much about ghosts.”

animated-gifs-ghosts-01“They ain’t gonna come outta that room. I done told `em this is my house now and they works for me.” Tallulah said, planting her hands on her hips and rocking her head.


“I don’t believe in ghosts.” Larry interjected, “There is no evidence to support that theory.”

“Well good for you Mr. Larry. Yes indeed that’s good for you `cause ignorance truly is bliss in some cases.”

“I believe in ghosts.” Steve confessed.

“Then I guess I’m the only logical person here.” Larry sighed, “Show us to our rooms Tallulah and put an end to this madness before it turns into an argument and my daughter gets diaper rash.”

Maggie grinned and when the convoy started down the wide hallway, lagging behind she whispered toward the door, “I won worm dirt! Take that!” animated-gifs-ghosts-12



1st pick CLAN DESTINY BOOK JANNA HILL (632x1024)I’ve been told parts of this book are frightening by a few that claim not to believe in the supernatural. Well, I believe and you know what? I ain’t afraid of no ghost.


Hemingway’s Beloved (A Poem & A Picture by Me & of Me)

Okay, I might have been wrong in yesterdays post. We received [well] over 13 downloads of Getting Me Back. Thanks y’all. It wouldn’t matter if we got 13 million – we are sticking to the plan. We bought the ticket – we’ll take the ride. That’s my spin on a Hunter S. Thompson quote. JANNA HEMINGWAY DRUNK & DISHEVELED (731x800)

This photo was taken in front of Hemingway’s house in Key West, Florida. Of course it is now a museum. I look like I am either drunk or crying. I think it was both. Talking to ghosts sometimes has that effect on me.

Hemingway’s Beloved

Did you shake his hand –?

the hand of a man’s man?

Did you see how his eyes searched the space around him as the world grew smaller?

Did you learn the secrets of Africa or discuss his tomes over drinks?

Of course not.

You could not for we were mere children –

our wedding day marking the twenty second anniversary of his exodus… his rise to immortality.

He won the Nobel Prize for Literature the year you were born – did you know that?

I was but two months in the womb when he placed the beloved twelve-gauge inside his mouth and obliterated the ciphering pheasants once and for all.

Did you see how he caressed her?

How her cold, soft metal against his finger was as pacifying as the perfect daiquiri… how she (his beloved) alas cured him of the demons.

In a flash she rooted them loose one by one from their hiding place – a place liquor nor currents could mole; a cavern so deep no joule or watt could grasp. Ahh, but she did.

She exorcized them, set them to flight riding on soft grey tissue laden with hemochromatosis and fragments of bone.

Christ might have offered the fiends a swine but not her or better yet not him…

A sacrifice for the Bay of Pigs?

It was all such folly — such unholy madness for a simple man and a literary saint.


*Hemingway’s Beloved was first published in the HWA (Horror Writers Association) Poetry Showcase Volume I.

So Getting Me Back (The Voices Within) will still be FREE April 18th through the 21st while we do this A Poem & A Picture by Me & of Me.

What else can I say about Ernest Hemingway that has not already been [acceptably] said?