Miracle, an excerpt from Rescue Me - Animal Anthology

                  I will always remember the day I saw him. I lived in an apartment and as long as I had lived there I had seen a beautiful feral cat that roamed the grounds of the complex. I wanted to adopt her but my current four cats weren’t open to a new family member and she seemed very unhappy being held captive inside. I fed her whenever I could along with occasionally petting her when she would come near. She had lovely markings but the way her short fur and tight skin was pulled across her face she looked like a pretty version of Smigel from Lord of the Rings.

            A few months after I moved in she came to my door with a kitten in tow. I leaned down to pet her but she backed away defending her baby fiercely. I put out a dish of food and milk for them then stepped aside letting them eat in peace. They were very close for the next year. You would rarely see one without the other watching from a nearby balcony or set of stairs. I named the baby Smidge to keep like her mother. I attempted to adopt them a few more times but while Smigel came close to settling down inside twice Smidge was barely willing to come through the door so staying wasn’t an option. Either way I was in love with them so I happily fed them and sat outside on the porch to pet Smigel when she decided to let me.

            I had been living there approximately a year and a half when I noticed I hadn’t seen Smigel or Smidge around for a couple weeks. I was worried that something had happened to them. I was also holding out hope that perhaps someone without additional animals might have been able to coax them into a permanent home. Every time I would come home from the store or return from work I would look for them but they had vanished. It was odd that even though they weren’t mine I cared about them so much.

            Just as I had given up seeing them again I came home one day from work and there they were. Sitting in front of the patio of the apartment below mine Smigel sat proudly watching me as I walked by. There lying next to her in the grass was Smidge surrounded by four itty bitty kittens. They were just the most adorable little balls of fluff and fuzz. I knew they were bound to be just as skittish as Smidge had always been but I tried to approach them anyway. As I suspected they scattered immediately.

            I started to head up the stairs to my apartment when I happened to glance back where the family had been gathered. There lying in the dirt was a kitten that wasn’t moving. I hadn’t even noticed him in the beginning because he was half the size of the others. My heart broke instantly because I know that feral animals will abandon their offspring if they believe they are too weak to survive. I was looking at the lifeless body of this sad abandoned kitten feeling the tears rush down my cheeks.

            All of a sudden I saw its head turn the slightest bit. He was alive. I jumped back down the stairs and lightly touched his side with my finger. I could make out a faint heart beat and he was breathing but not well. I ran to my kitchen grabbing a paper plate so I could lift him but keep him steady. I took him into the apartment but I was presented with a problem as I looked around. I had four full grown territorial cats. They were already taking interest in the smell of this poor soul and I knew he was going to struggle regardless; I couldn’t make him face them as well.

            The bathroom seemed like the safest spot so I placed some towels in the tub and placed him on one of them hoping he would stay warm. I got a regular dish and put some milk in it hoping he might be able to go get it sometime during the night. I also knew there was a very strong chance he wouldn’t make it through the night at all. Still I knew I had to try. I stayed with him for almost an hour before I finally went to bed hoping to get some rest.

            I tossed and turned all night long. I couldn’t help but fear the worst and by the time the sun came up I was convinced I would find him gone already. I turned the handle slowly keeping the older cats at bay as I inched my way into the bathroom. As I peered over the edge of the tub I was shocked. He was still alive. He was weak, curled up on the towel but he was definitely breathing. He also felt warmer then when I had brought him in.

            I picked him up and dipped my pinky into the milk holding it near him mouth and he opened his tiny mouth and took it. He couldn’t take a second drop but he had had some nourishment. That was more than enough for me. I put him down and ran to tell my boyfriend that he had survived the night. I was bouncing giddily by the time I came back. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he confirmed that the kitten was in fact alive and agreed with me that we should name him Miracle.

            I was scheduled to work that day and so was he. The thought of leaving poor little Miracle alone was something I just couldn’t do. He had no choice but to go in so I called into work. I felt I had to stay home so that I could try to feed him some more milk and keep him company. I made myself some breakfast and fed the crazy kitties now pacing around the living room. Once he left and I was able to grab some snacks and a few bottles of water I went into the bedroom and set up everything on the bed. I set the dish of milk on my nightstand and lay back against the pillows holding Miracle.

            He seemed to be struggling again and I decided to try a trick I had learned for human babies. I took my shirt off in order to hold him on my chest close to my heart. He could feel the heat from my skin and the way my heart was beating. Just as I had hoped he started to recover again. He snuggled down against me and for a few brief minutes I could feel his weak little body vibrate from purring. I felt the tears coming back as I lightly stroked his head.

            Every hour or so I would dip my finger into the milk and attempt to feed him. Most of the time he would take it but the last time he just lowered his head.  I knew what was coming. He started to purr again but it only lasted for a moment. He turned his head to the side closing his eyes. I petted his head holding him as close as I could. There on my chest knowing at least twenty four hours of love my tiny Miracle died.

            I held him and cried for a while losing track of time. I called my boyfriend to let him know and he promised he would come straight home after work to be with me. I wrapped Miracle up before heading out into the living room. I kept the door closed but my other cats no longer were interested in Miracle, they could sense I needed comforting. I sat in my recliner and cuddled up with them telling myself I had done all I could and he had been loved before he passed away.

            That night we took is little body out to Red Rock Canyon and buried him. I wanted him to be surrounded by beauty. I said I short prayer for him and kissed his head before placing in the ground. I believe he is running free now, healthy and happy. I hope he knows how much he was loved and knows that my short time with him has touched me forever. I love you Miracle. Someday I will see you again.

Never Give Up excerpt

                  Tossing and turning in her limited mobility, Kaylie drifted through a semi- conscious world, trying to get a firm footing and understand what was happening around and to her. In this parallel plane, she was up and walking, but only through still scenes of her nightmarish night. Every glaring detail was illuminated by the spotlight of her memory. Strolling past the shot of the man climbing into the back seat with her, she felt her skin crawl again.

                  She attempted to pause, but her dream itself kept moving forward. She passed the scene of him yelling at the driver and her pressed against the door. She wanted to go back, but the magnetism of the dream propelled her on. She could feel her sleeping body aching from the tossing and her mental state shake from the image coming into view.

                  There, she could see with horrifying clarity the moment the gun had gone off; the flash from the muzzle, the shattering window, and the driver being thrown into the steering wheel. She wanted desperately to turn away, to run away. It was incredible, but she needed to escape. It compared only to the actual moment now frozen in time before her.

A Promise To Jasmine

I have been doing a lot of soul searching recently working on Sharing Strength. I wrote a letter recently to Rachel the young girl that will be moving the story along and showing everything that she has. The most difficult part is working up to her biggest moment. While she is based on me in many ways it is important to note that one of the largest things I survived in my life is abusive relationships.

I was involved with an extremely psychologically abusive boy while I was in high school. He made me believe I was nothing without him and that the only thing that made me worthwhile at all was the fact that he took time to care about me. We broke up finally after a series of fights that took the emotional torture to a new physical level.

I have scars that live on as a reminder that I survived but it was that relationship that was the original situation that led to my diagnosis of post traumatic stress disorder. Jasmine is the representative of that part of my life. She is a fighter and a survivor but she is also very protective of Rachel. She finds herself and gives her life a sort of purpose in the big sister role.

While dealing Rachel and her pain, struggling with her entire situation I have been dealing with my own concerns. What I did not consider is that it will be nearly unbearable for Jasmine. For those not familiar with writers and our character relationships, you may not know that they are simultaneously a representative of us on the paper as well as a real living breathing entity all on their own.

I am going to have to take some time with her. She is mad at me and I can feel it. She is stalling my ability to get through this terrible scene but I must press on. I know we can both handle it but I promise to give her the time she needs and won't push her any further than I have to.

Dear Rachel

Dear Rachel,

It is because of you that I have avoided the project Sharing Strength for so long. I opened my mind up to other characters in an effort to distract me from the inevitable. I know what is coming and while of course you do too, that doesn't make it any easier.

You represent such an important aspect of the story and on top of that you are a glimpse inside my own story. We are not going to be saying good bye. We are saying thank you for showing the courage to exist and share your experience with us so that we may be able to recognize you in another.

I never had the courage to discuss what happened to me or the way it tore me apart but through you I am able to come clean and let those most important into a shadowy corner of my past I have kept hidden for so long. The fear, shame and self hatred that built inside of me and nearly took my life will be washed clean through you.

I am in tears as I write this letter to you because I know what I must do. I am finally cutting the ties to a previous part of my life and even though the scars will remain the bindings holding me back will be released forever and I will finally be free. I held you in for so long and I admire you for having the strength to stand up for me.

You may only exist on the pages of my book but in many ways you are me and I am a living tribute to you and all in the group. Have faith that you will bring comfort to many and your story will live on. Rest now sweet princess, you don't have to be afraid or in pain any longer.

Reading

There are numerous authors that have shared advice about writing and one of the biggest items always included is the importance of reading. Stephen King said that if you don't have time to read then you don't have the time nor the tools to write.

I have always enjoyed reading. I of course have had my preferences in genres but I have tried to branch out and of course through the classes I took in school I was required to read books I probably wouldn't have picked up in the first place.

We read classics, poetry and anthologies. I studied texts about difficult cultures. I explored the world in my mind. As with most authors this not only was an adventure for me but inspiration to create magic with words. I wanted to take readers on an adventure of my own design weaving a tapestry of rich settings interesting dialogue and heartfelt characters.

While I was in school I read anything and everything I could get my hands on, even discovering an author that has become one of my favorites. I went through different worlds. I became numerous people and I tried my hand at sharing a few ideas of my own. However in the last part I faltered a bit.

The only ideas of other worlds and different story paths I could come up with always led back to something I had read. I had no experiences of my own to draw from causing me to quickly become discouraged. I would jot something down occasionally but generally only if assigned and I could always tell my heart wasn't in it.

As I got older I struck out. I was determined to have a life full of the interesting experiences that I would later share with the world. I travelled. I ate new things. I talked to people and learned about their lives which would always give me insight and perspective on mine. Then a few years ago I finally felt I had lived an adequate amount to begin spinning my tales once again.

I recently published my novel Never Give Up and have a flood of ideas that I swim through everyday now so it is safe to say my traveling and exploring paid off. I write at least a few days per week now and still do my best to learn about and from people and the new things I try as often as I can. There is just one problem. I have stopped reading.

I either feel like I no longer have time because it is taking up what I would be using to write or work. Or I feel it is unproductive to make my way through someone else's incredible work instead of dedicating myself to my own. I need to find a way to mesh the two worlds because as much as I love my own characters I am ready to reenter the worlds created by those that inspire me.

Annora

The voices I wrote about in a previous post still haven't stopped so I have decided to let the one yelling the loudest out for a bit. I want everyone to meet Annora. She hasn't told me her last name and to be honest after everything she has been through I am not sure she even remembers it anymore.

What I can tell you about her isn't happy. She had a typical childhood for the first twelve years of her life. Her parents divorced while her mother was pregnant and shortly after she was born her mother found the true love of her life and settled down with Annora's stepdad. Both her mother Bethany and her stepfather Richard loved her fiercely but her biological father did his best to stay in the picture.

Unfortunately he was not the devoted parent Bethany and Richard were so even though he fought for custody he was denied most of his requests. He was granted visitation rights but after she returned home with bruises and became withdrawn at the sound of his name her mom went to court to keep him away from the family. Less than a year later her mother was killed in a hit and run and while he denied any involvement suspicion fell on her stepfather.

Both adamantly stated there was no way he could have done it but the eye witness reports mentioned a vehicle identical to his and one person even got a partial matching license plate. He was arrested and she was placed with the only parent or at least parent figure she had left, her biological dad. He came prepared to show he had cleaned up his act and gained temporary custody of Annora.

She was miserable about the judgement and vowed she would find a way to help her stepfather. She moved in with her dad but kept her distance from him even when he attempted to try and be her friend. It just never felt like home to her and she would cry herself to sleep every night.

Shortly after moving in with him she was walking home from the bus stop after school when a van pled up beside her and grabbed her. She was driven away before anyone could get a clear description of the men and the plates had been removed. Her father put out a message that he would offer a reward for her safe return but there was never a ransom call and no leads ever developed.

Her stepfather was found innocent and all charges were dropped when his alibi was confirmed and he was ultimately released from jail. He filed notice immediately to get Annora back only to be told she was gone. Her father picked up and moved without any forwarding information and there was no one keeping her case from going cold. He made a public plea but no one knew a thing.

Meanwhile Annora's kidnappers had sold her to a human trafficking ring and she was being kept in a dungeon one of her owners had built under his house. She fought tooth and nail in order to survive unmanageable. She just fought harder to prove she couldn't be broken.

She was abused and used as a personal toy by some of her captors and she could hear other children come and go from her prison. She struggled to free herself and became truly scared for the first time when she overheard one of the men saying they were organizing a big sale and getting rid of some loose ends. She knew she would be on that list. She plotted her strategy to attempt and overpower the man that would come for her. She was just afraid that after everything they had put her through she may not have the strength to succeed.

There is so much more but I just wanted to give a taste of what she has told me and I am beginning to look forward to sharing more of her story with my readers.

Hearing voices

I have been feeling very scattered recently having multiple projects jockeying for position in my head. All of my characters are talking and because they all have so much to say it is more of a migraine than a conversation. They all want attention and to be able to get out and meet readers. I am just struggling to get any one set of characters to talk long enough without interruption to be able to make much progress.

I have therefore decided that even though I have done some character bios before I am going to do a brief introduction of all the ones talking to me and a blurb about their books in order to get them to calm down for awhile. Hopefully letting them each speak their piece in a sort of town hall meeting will satisfy their need for attention.

First is the novel I am editing called Breathe. This is my first romance novel and while it is not sappy and it was actually originally intended to be more of a drama Kelsey Matthews decided for me and every time I would try to add a suspenseful element she would turn it back and explain how much she  needed a relationship. She was such a loner and I had been under the impression that she liked it that way but as I got to know her I learned more and more how lonely and miserable she was. Even when I gave her someone to care about it took a very long time to see if there were any mutual feelings. As I edit this book I am continuously surprised but the things I learn about her.

The next book I should be working on is Sharing Strength. In this book there is a support group for people suffering from PTSD. Each character has their own personal issues. Again I am learning more and more about each one of them and I am both inspired by their fight and heartbroken to watch their struggles. As I write I am constantly getting to know them and I am starting to suspect that a few of them may have individual novellas about what led them to Sharing Strength in the first place. I am excited though somewhat fearful of getting to know them on an even deeper level. 

Annora is the next character screaming at me. She jumped into my mind simply from seeing the word freedom. I have asked many people what the word freedom means to them and most have come back with military stories while a few others simply described their perfect day off or favorite activities for retirement. For me seeing that word immediately created Annora, a 15 year old girl that was sold into human trafficking by someone she should have been able to trust. She is a fighter and while she lives through hell for several years before she is able to finally attempt an escape she is never completely broken. She is defiant and struggles every chance she gets. She is often sold from one "owner" to another because she is difficult to handle. She even had one or two that threatened to kill her. She will be an interesting but emotional girl to get to know.

Sabrina's Story is the follow up prequel to Never Give Up, my debut novel. Sabrina only has a bit part in Never Give Up but there have been people asking if the story is autobiographical and if Sabrina is based on a dance instructor I had in my life. The answer honestly is, yes, sort of. Kaylie is definitely based on me in many ways including the injury though I was injured in a drastically different way and Sabrina is based on a combination of my first dance instructor and my dance coach and teach from high school and there is most certainly a story for her to share as well.

Once you get past those four books there is a family that takes up residence in an eight book series. The Syn series is the story of Persephony Syntel and her daughters. Book one is all about Persephony and is the introduction of the curse and turmoils that falls upon her family. Then each of the girls Asmara, Lucasta, Beatrix, Belicia, Maryn, Samiya and Levana all have a story of how they use their powers passed down from the curse from their mother.

Last but not least I have a storyline for a twist on Jack the Ripper and I badly need to come up with the marketing and cover ideas for Rescue Me and continue promoting Never Give Up so Kaylie won't feel forgotten. Hopefully giving them all an intro will give me some peace of mind so I can concentrate on one at a time.