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Fiction – Blood & Sand

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General Fiction (cozy small town fiction)

Date Published: August, 2019

Publisher: Pen & Key Publishing

A tiny town. A broken tavern. And one woman searching for a place to
belong.

Logan Cole is used to getting her way and what she wants more than anything
is for her father to get out of jail and restore her old life in New York.
All she has to do is wait for his scandals to fade and the online rancor
against her family to subside. Low on cash and out of options, she takes a
bus north looking for anonymity and stops in the smallest town she can find:
Ramsbolt, Maine.

When she stumbles into Helen’s Tavern, she finds a place in need of a
make-over and a grandmotherly woman who could use some help. Soon, she finds
herself growing fond of the bar, Helen, and the town. She’s even found
a friend in Grey, the local plumber. The tiny town puts her at a crossroads:
keep hiding her identity to preserve her new reputation or let down her
guard and reveal her true self to the people she’s grown to love. But
the choice is ripped from her hands when tragedy strikes the bar and saving
it requires every tool at her disposal.

Can Logan find a true home among the people of Ramsbolt Maine?

The Collected Stories of Ramsbolt is a series by Jennifer M. Lane,
award-winning author Of Metal and Earth and Stick Figures from Ramsbolt.
Fresh and heart-warming, the series tells the stories of a small town
looking for belonging.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Logan Cole had never been on a bus in her life. As she stretched her legs
and stumbled onto the sidewalk at the tip of Maine, she cursed the eight
hour learning experience and swore never to do it again.

The last stop before the border was less like a terminal and more like a
dead end. No benches, no depot, no ticketing window. And no taxis. Just a
little yellow house with leaning porch surrounded by scruffy blueberry
shrubs. At least it wasn’t sweltering out.

She yanked her black Rimowa suitcase, one of the few things the FBI let her
keep, from the bottom of the bus. She gave the driver a wry smile and
thanked him for the trip. It wasn’t his fault a woman coughed and
crinkled candy wrappers the whole way, and that guy with his earbuds in
behind her never learned to sing.

“Six hundred miles better be far enough.” She mumbled to
herself as she dragged the suitcase down the sidewalk, fumbling for her
phone in her purse. It was a habit she still hadn’t broken, opening
apps to fill a void, but she’d deleted Twitter, Facebook, and the rest
of them when the threats started pouring in. Eight months, four court cases,
a thousand stories in the news, and she still hadn’t gotten used to
being without social media. Being disconnected was better than scrolling
through contempt, though.

“Battery’s almost dead. Map won’t load. Damn it.”
She walked back the way she’d come, past quaint little houses and
blueberry bushes, back to the bar she’d seen a mile or so before. It
was across from a cheap motel with moldy siding and mildewed plastic chairs.
The bar itself was windowless and brick. Definitely not the kind of place
where someone would look for one of the wealthiest people in the country. Or
someone who used to be.

She paused at an intersection and started a text to her mom, a quick note
to say she was far from the gossip and rumors, safe from tabloid headlines
squawking about a Cole Curse, and nowhere near the internet trolls who
flooded her notifications with threats, saying they knew where to find her
and what they would do to her when they did. All because of her
father.

She waited among the cigarette butts and rusted beer caps while her text
bounced its way to France.

Delivered. Three dots appeared. Her mother’s reply came slow.

Good luck. Lay low. I’ll send money if I can. Try to blend in.

Logan sent back a smiley face and a greeting for her aunt and uncle.

Letting her phone fall back in her purse, she swallowed hard and tugged hem
of her T-shirt down over her jeans. Her heart pounded so loud she
wouldn’t be able to hear traffic if there’d been any. But the
intersection was dead. The only other animate object in that town was the
little orange hand blinking on the stop light, telling her not to
walk.

The light changed and a little white man blinked, urging her to cross the
street before it was too late. By the look of the town nothing was urgent.
The only signs of life were two cars in the bar’s parking lot. They
could be abandoned for all she knew.

A countdown timer marked off the seconds. Eleven. Ten.

Left to the motel. Straight to the bar. Neither option looked all that
inviting.

For the first time since she left New York, rage, hot as the surface of the
sun, boiled within her. She was supposed to be in an air conditioned office
somewhere, running a foundation. Sipping a latte that came from cart. Logan
kicked a beer cap into the street, and it skittered into a pothole.

Five. Four.

The little man on the pedestrian signal had his whole life together. He had
purpose and goals and a job. He had an identity, and everyone knew who he
was. Logan had all of that until her father screwed up, and the government
charged him with money laundering and took it all away. All she had left
were some comfy pants shoved in a suitcase and a cell phone plan she
couldn’t afford. She squeezed the handle of her suitcase so tight her
knuckles turned white.

Two. One.

The Do Not Walk signal blinked, and she crossed the street defiant.

The sidewalk rippled. Uneven slabs of concrete were mere islands, broken by
the freeze and thaw of ice, lost in a sea of weeds and road dirt. She faced
the bar.

When she opened that door, she would find herself in a whole new world.
There would be questions. What was her name? Where did she come from? Maybe
they would recognize her right away from the newspapers, the tabloids,
Twitter. She wasn’t prepared for any of it, and she never would be.
She didn’t even know how to fill out a job application. What was she
supposed to say? I’m a Yale graduate with a degree in Art History, the
daughter of a felon, and I’ve come to scrub your bathroom?

The sun would set in a few hours, and that motel did not look hospitable.
The keys to a job and a cheap apartment were somewhere in that bar.

Taking in a shaky breath of Maine air, she held it in until her lungs
soaked it up, then let out a steady stream of all she had left.

“Get in there and prove your mother wrong. You are still a Cole and
Coles do not give up. We don’t stand on the sidewalk and talk to
ourselves, either.”

Her whole future lay ahead of her. She just had to get by until her dad set
it right. Shoulders back, head up, she opened

About the Author

A Maryland native and Pennsylvanian at heart, Jennifer M. Lane holds a
bachelor’s degree in philosophy from Barton College and a master’s in
liberal arts with a focus on museum studies from the University of Delaware,
where she wrote her thesis on the material culture of roadside memorials.
She is the author of the award-winning novel Of Metal and Earth, of Stick
Figures from Rockport, and the series of stand-alone novels from The
Collected Stories of Ramsbolt, including Blood and Sand. Visit her website
at https: //www.jennifermlanewrites.com/

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Fiction – Message from a Star

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Fiction

Date Published: 6/8/18

Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers

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Some friendships are written in the stars.

Thirty years after their high school graduation, former best friends, Joe and Chad, accidentally meet again in an Orlando hotel. But there will be nothing accidental about the chain of events which lead the middle-aged pair on the run from gangsters, drug dealers and ambitious cops.

Deciding to celebrate their unexpected reunion, Joe and Chad share laughs and nostalgic memories over ice-cold beer but soon the two, feeling low about their less than adolescent appearance, decide to visit a shop specialising in making men look ten years younger. Receiving enthusiastic reviews from their families on their ‘renovated’ looks, the two push the boundaries and continue drinking at a club.

Here begins the set-up of the harmless gents, and they fall into an ever-widening circle of disasters which ensure the men must test themselves… and their friendship.

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

This story begins way back in mid-fifties America, with the emergence of rock ’n’ roll driven by such enigmatic stars as Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Buddy Holly, and of course the king, Elvis Presley, who brought such an exciting mixture of fashion and sexual energy to his songs and stage performances. This instantly infectious music had all the young guys in America now wanting to be rock ’n’ roll stars themselves, all copying the fashion and definitely the hair styles. Yes, fifties America was now the most exciting place for young kids to be growing up in. The hard times were over, and suddenly there was money and affluence, and teenagers were now reveling in a freedom their parents had never known. In the blink of an eye the music world had been taken over by such an energetic force. Youngsters now had their own dances, their own style of dress, even their own language. Diners or beach parties were now the ‘in’ meeting places, fueled with the potent mixture of rebellious fun, and sexual freedom. The fifties teenager had arrived, and life would never be the same again.

In the county of Jacksonville, in the suburbs of New York, stood Jackson High School, a large modern and spacious building. Inside it was like all other high schools at that time, crammed full of fashion conscious students, and would-be teen idols. At Jackson High there were many wannabe rock stars, all fronting would-be rock groups, but there were two guys who really did have star quality, Chad Dablusie and Joe Randall. To start with, not only were these two young teenagers the very best of friends, they were also the two coolest guys on the campus, great looking, and with enormous Elvis style pompadour. Yup, Chad and Joe were easily the stars of their high school, and being the two most popular rock ’n’ roll singers in the High school you would always find them singing at the local dance halls, or weekend beach parties, with Chad showing off with his unique gift for reaching glass-shattering high notes.

But Joe and Chad were not only just big rock ’n’ roll stars of their school, their athletic prowess made them stars of all college track and field events, as well as baseball and basketball main team players. Making them not just popular with all the girls, but popular with all the guys as well. So every day for Joe and Chad was lived, laughed and loved to the full, in the fast lane of life. Coupled with always gaining straight ‘A’s, in exams, teachers, and even the college Principle would always look the other way rather than upset their two star pupils. Yes, this was the life. Ah yes, this was their life.

But now more than thirty years later, both aged fifty-two, those early years had long gone. Memories which had crystallized over the years were all that remained for these two middle-aged family men. But yes, as teenagers if anyone ever had the world at their feet it was Chad and Joe. But what life giveth, life will eventually taketh away. Never again would they experience the adulation they enjoyed from their college fan club. Gone forever being the local Romeos of their college and never again would they experience singing to a crowd of scantily clad beauties at the summer beach parties.

Also gone, their athletic prowess, and gone forever their incredible youthful good looks. ‘Handsome’ was now definitely not a word you would use to describe these two middle-aged men.

Chad was now pot-bellied and completely bald, while Joe, also overweight, had totally grey receding hair with matching grey moustache. Both of them were now completely out of condition. However, they were now both happily married men, both enjoying idyllic family lives.

Joe, now lived in Ontario, Canada with his wife Stacey and his children: ten year-old Ben, eleven-year-old Samantha, and seven-year-old Lucy. Chad still lived in New York with his wife June and his two daughters, Stella sixteen and fifteen-year-old Katie. Although Joe and Chad had lost contact with each other over the years, they had new friends now, and life was good.

But life can play strange tricks on you. Call it fate, or coincidence, who can say !

Call it what you like, but when a million to one chance reunion happens, it does make you wonder if it was written in the stars, that it was meant to be, that Joe and Chad would meet up for one final time in their lives. This chance reunion happened at the very plush, and very expensive, Cabana Hotel at Cocoa Beach in Florida, the holiday paradise where tourists young and old have their dreams come true, enjoying sun, sea and, of course, Disney World.

Joe, Stacey, and their three children, Ben, Samantha and Lucy, were sitting in the foyer enjoying a well-earned drink after their long journey having just flown in from Ontario for what was to be their summer vacation of a lifetime. The children had talked about nothing else for the last six months and suddenly they were here, Disney World, home to Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Snow White… the list was endless and the more names they mentioned the more excited they became.

As the Randle family sat in the reception area enjoying their drinks, unbeknown to Joe, his best friend from high school, was arriving outside with his wife June and their two children. Actually young ladies more than children, which was exactly why they had wanted to come to Florida. Sea, sun and surfing, which meant, boys, boys, boys. However, to get their dad and mom to come to Florida they said they would love to see Disney World which was a complete lie, but a lie that had worked, and as they all pulled up in their big yellow taxi, Katie and Stella jumped out, so excited, and just stood there in the hot sun looking up at the huge lettering above the giant swing doors. “‘CABANA HOTEL’. Wow,” said Katie. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

“I think it’s even better than that.”

Stella’s eyes now transfixed on two tanned and very good looking young men leaning up against the cream colored hotel wall, making their tanned and smooth skin look even better. Katie looked quickly in the direction of Stella’s stare, then on seeing them, shyly looked away with a mischievous smile, growing quickly into a giggle.

Looking back at Stella she said to her older sister out of the corner of her mouth, “Don’t keep looking at them, they’ll think we’re too interested.”

“But we are too interested,” Stella replied with eyes lighting up.

“Come on Juney, out we get. We’re here at last.” Chad bursting with excitement eased his plump, overweight body off the back seat and out of the cab, the sun instantly bouncing off Chad’s bald head and his specially chosen, outrageously colored shirt. June, had no such problem alighting from the cab, having managed over the years to keep her slim figure, was still a very attractive lady even at fifty years of age, and with her stylish black hair, looked years younger than Chad who was now graciously accepting their suitcases from the boot of the cab, via the cab driver, in return pushing a more than generous tip into the cabby’s hand.

“Thank you sir, and have a nice day,” said the cabby, having gleefully accepted his tip, now turned on his heels.

Correcting the cab driver Chad shouted to him, “I’m gonna have a nice week actually.”

“Then have a nice week, sir,” the cabby shouted back as he quickly got back in and drove off, filtering back into the busy holiday traffic in pursuit of more fares.

“Right kids.” Chad paused for a second himself to look up at the impressive gold lettering that spelt out CABANA HOTEL. “In we go, and don’t keep giggling at all the boys,” said Chad now using his suitcases like a pair of giant hands to move his girls along. “Alright, alright, don’t push Dad; we’re going in.”

But once inside they all had to stop.

“Wow!” Katie’s exclamation totally summed up everyone’s feelings in an instant, as Chad put down his suitcases and joined the rest of the family as they all stood there gazing around at the sheer beauty, elegance, and size of a hotel which would be their holiday home for the next seven days.

“It’s a palace,” was Stella’s stunned observation.

“Well I’ve got to hand it to you, honey,” June still craning her neck backwards as she gazed up at the ornate angel carvings on the ceiling, circling enormous gold chandeliers, “when it comes to choosing a nice hotel, you can certainly pick ’em.” June stood gently shaking her head in disbelief. “And I’ve never ever seen such a highly polished floor in all my life, or such enormous marble pillars, or such…”

“Hey Juney,” Chad interrupted, “nothing but the best for my family, eh? That’s what I told the lady when I booked it, and that’s what we’ve got,” he said, putting his arm around June’s shoulder. “That is what I wanted for us to have, the very best hotel, for the very best summer vacation we’ve all ever had as a family. So come on gang let’s go and get the key to our apartment, and let’s get started on enjoying our vacation right now,” he said, picking up the suitcases again and marching on towards the reception desk, situated right in the middle of the large reception area.

This slightly overbearing nerve center of the hotel was manned by three impeccably dressed men all in regulation black suits, crisp white shirts, and conservative blue and white ties. Their attire was enhanced by gold cufflinks and tie pins, carrying the hotel’s colorful red and greenshielded crest.

As Chad and his family approached the large, half-moon shaped desk to check in, Chad was in no mood after their long journey to stand about waiting in a queue for their key. So squeezing past other recently arrived families, all standing around chatting and enjoying the grandness of the hotel and obviously in no such rush, Chad maneuvered himself gently up to the light wooden paneled desk with black marbled top, and dropped his cases loudly onto the floor with a resounding bang so as to attract maximum attention and swift service.

The nearest receptionist to Chad was the reception manager, a very slim, upright, middle forties gentleman who looked over his glasses in the direction of the loud thud, the lights highlighting the grey flecks in his hair.

Now as we get older our appearance can change dramatically, but our personality will always stay the same. So Chad’s fun loving and excitable exterior positively exploded with happiness, as he and his beloved family having had at last reached the hotel’s reception desk. The euphoria following the realization that they were now, at last, starting their summer vacation was almost too exciting to handle for Chad as he proceeded to get louder and louder.

“Ah, just the man!” Chad instantly announcing to the manager’s glare. “We are the Dablusie family, this is my lovely wife June and my two lovely daughters Stella…”

“Be quiet Dad,” Stella whispered.

“… and Katie.”

“Shhh, people are looking Dad,” said Katie, smiling apologetically, like her sister, to everyone.

“Let them look. Who cares? We are on vacation, and for the next seven days, the Dablusie family are going to have fun, fun, fun.”

“He’s been a bit over-worked of late, you understand,” explained June to the man behind the reception desk who had now walked over to them, but appeared to be so miserable you wondered how he got such a job in a holiday hotel.

“Cheer up Mac, it might never happen,” said Chad, still jesting.

“Dad, just ask for the key,” Katie, with her head bowed whispered quietly.

“Okay, okay,” agreed Chad.

Now fluttering his eyelids at the receptionist as he asked, “Can you pleeeease… and I want you to do this without smiling…” said Chad to the now more miserable-then-ever desk clerk, “do a little spin-turn and give us our apartment key?” unable to resist adding a ‘whoopee’ on receiving the key.

A small distance away, sitting quietly, waiting for a hotel porter to help carry their luggage to their room, Joe, having casually observed the scene at the reception desk, quipped to his wife, “You know Stace, some people just get so easily excited. Now you take that fat guy over there at the reception desk. He’s been making more noise on his own than a busload of tourists.”

What Joe didn’t know was that he was about to be stunned by fate’s ‘stungun’.

“Porter, take Mr Dablusie’s luggage up to room 203 please.”

“Mr Dablusie,” Joe thought quietly to himself. “I know that name… nah… no way… nope, no way could that be Chad Dablusie, my best buddy from Jackson Junior High, but could it be?” Joe had to find out.

“What’s up Dad? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Joe was startled back to reality by his son’s high-pitched inquisitive voice.

“Yeah,” joined in the girls eager to get moving and start having fun. “Nah,” thought Joe yet again, “it just couldn’t be.”

“Joe, what are you muttering about?” asked Stacey, sitting up in her easy chair getting herself ready to make a move.

“Well, you see that guy over there with the colorful shirt standing by the elevator with his family? Well, I think it just might be Chad! I mean, I know it’s been thirty-odd years, but… no, no,” Joe began again mumbling to himself.

“Na, Chad was really slim, and he had a big mop of jet-black hair as well.”

“Well he wouldn’t have a big mop of jet-black wavy hair now, after all these years would he?” explained Stacey.

Then in an unrehearsed chorus, Lucy, Samantha and Ben all shouted out,

“Who’s Chad?”

“Wait a minute,” said Stacey. “When we first met and started going steady you used to talk all the time about a Chad. You and Chad did this in high school and you and Chad did that. So are you saying you think this is the Chad of all those years ago?”

“I dunno Stace. No, no it can’t be.”

“Well there’s an easy way to find out, honey. Come on.”

Stacey, instantly getting to her feet and picking up her handbag.

“Hell, Stace I only heard the clerk say Mr Dablusie. I mean, I don’t know if this guy’s name is even Chad!”

“So let’s go and ask the clerk at reception right now and sort this out once and for all. Come on kids.”

“Yeah,” was the chorus back.

Stacey led the family military style straight up to the reception desk.

“We’ll sort this out and then get on with our vacation.”

About the Author

My name is Mick J. Clark; I am a singer/songwriter. I am on the Sonorus Record Label. I had 500,000 Streams on my songs last year. I have written over 60 songs, of which 54 of my songs are being played by Emerge Music in shops. I have two songs on an album, ‘Goa Chillout Zone Vol 9’ which reached No 1 in the iTunes Electronic Chart. I am played on many Radio Stations. Three Albums and three E.Ps, called ’Notes 1, 2,3,4,5 and 6, Rock, Ballads, R&B, Dance, Latin and Country.

Last year my summer song, ‘Anuther Sunny Hulliday’ getting over 100,000 streams and my Christmas E.P. over 200,000 streams on my three Christmas songs.

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El Gringo by Edmond Salus

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Fiction

Date Published: January 2018

Sonny Galas is an only child being raised by his mother-a widow—and the loving help of his grandfather, also widowed. Living in a Santa Monica apartment complex owned by ‘Grandpa’ all is well and average for this close-knit family until a certain French family come into the picture, in need of a place to rent. They soon show their colors in various ways, topping it off by slapping a suit on their patient, kind landlord. Sonny’s family sees no better option than selling their only asset-the apartments-and getting far away from their Lawyer-packing tenants. Far, as in ‘leaving the country’, and this is where their true adventure begins. South of the border becomes their new home.

From their journey through third-world narrow roads, small towns where no English is spoken, to long, hot unending desert roads and through humid coastal towns they continue toward their big city destination, Guadalajara, where their life begins and they encounter everything and everyone from kind helpers to con-artists and crazies and from strangers to good friends, both Mexican and American. From young boy to teenager, as the years pass, Sonny sees it all: his family’s ups and downs, the country’s ups and downs with its own political third-world corruption, and his own transformation from a simple boy in a new country to a growing youth, fully fluent in Spanish; a devilish yet fun-loving teenager now with roots firmly planted and sprouting happily in his new home, his new country. From the adventures and joys of boyhood with his friends and pals to the wild days through grade school, junior high and high school with the opportunities given him as a bi-lingual kid to living through the set-backs that could trouble any family-Mexican or American-even scare of the faint of heart, he takes it all in; after all, now he’s Mexican. The fiestas, the friends, the awesome busy modern streets of Guadalajara in the early Seventies to the early Eighties, Guadalajara, the country’s capital of Mariachis.

Edmond Salus

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Drama – The Legacy Series: Book One

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Drama

Date Published: February 18, 2020

Brandyn (Brandy) Harris, a lonely, abused, and terminally ill twelve-year-old boy builds his private virtual world outside the knowledge of his strict and abusive parents. Denied the ability to interact with other kids in his everyday life, Brandy finds refuge within the confines of the Internet in his early stages, where it appealed primarily to the outcasts, and a close group of virtual teen friends.

The Legacy offers a unique, unparalleled glimpse into the mind of abused children while this abuse is taking place amid the hysteria surrounding the Satanic Ritual Abuse Panic of the early 1990s. An outstanding page-turner, it gives you an unprecedented, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience, through first-hand, day-to-day accounts as they occur, a real-world of childhood desperation and painful secrets, a world-known by millions of children, but never openly shared with adults.

You’ll feel Brandy’s feelings, cry his tears and laugh with him on the good days as you’ll journey through the candid and honest secrets of an abusive childhood, as Brandy’s correspondences are written by kids, for kids. Thus, you’ll learn the truths kids only tell their friends, outside the inherent inhibitions derived from adult interference.

This book is the first volume in an epic book series based on real events and the writings and correspondences of a terminally ill young boy who is also enduring a life of physical, emotional and sexual abuse.

About the Author

Brandyn Cross is a multi-media artist, as an accomplished writer, recording artist, songwriter, filmmaker, and actor.

Brandyn is the writer/producer of the major live event Jackie Evancho & Friends: We are Hope, which was also filmed for television broadcast as multiple concert specials.

As a singer/songwriter Brandyn scored the international top 10 hits Dear Mr. Jesus and If Money Talks (It Ain’t on Speakin’ Terms With Me), and the top10 music video I Will Always Love You. He won BEST SONG at the prestigious Utah Film Festival & Awards for his composition and recording of Love Again, as featured in the television series Proper Manors.

As an actor and filmmaker, Brandyn has worked on numerous projects such as Unicorn City and The Wayshower, as well as Alienate and Being Charlie with Rob Reiner. He is presently in post-production on his feature directorial debut with the dark Emo drama, The Legacy.

Among his body of written work is the Feature Film The Legacy, currently in post-production and the recently completed Gary Coleman biography, As if I Never Existed, with Gary’s widow Shannon Price. Brandyn has optioned and produced multiple feature screenplays and has written over 100 episodes for various TV series and specials. Brandyn is presently releasing the first volumes in an epic book series, The Legacy.

Brandyn started exploring his creative gifts following a serious industrial accident that turned him into a wheelchair-bound amputee in addition to already being “high functioning” autistic. Determined to show the world that even severe obstacles can be overcome, Brandyn began developing his innate creative abilities, studying and honing his craft, until ultimately turning this ambition into a professional reality. Today, he continues this mission in earnest.

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Stories I Can’t Show My Mother

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Stories I Can’t Show My Mother
By Ann Tinkham
Publisher: Napili Press
Published: March 2019
ISBN: 978-0999015711 (pb)
ISBN: 978-0999015742 (ebook)
ASIN: B07RSQQZ3C
Pages: 235
Genre: Literature, Fiction, Short Stories

In Stories I Can’t Show My Mother, bat girl receives love voodoo from Needle Man, a woman finagles a direct deposit at a sperm bank, a modern-day Lady Godiva triggers a hot police investigation into a cold case, an astronaut plots to kidnap her former lover’s girlfriend, an escort’s famous client falls for her, and a woman recovering from a breakup has a mile-high quickie with a stranger. These flirty, playful stories explore sexuality and sensuality, taking you to places your mother never wanted you to discover.

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About the Author:

Ann Tinkham is a writer based in Boulder, Colorado. She is an anti-social butterfly, pop-culturalist, virtual philosopher, ecstatic dancer, political and java junkie. When she’s not tinkering with words, she’s seeking adventures. Ann has talked her way out of an abduction and talked her way into the halls of the United Nations. She hitchhiked up a mountain in Switzerland and worked her way down the corporate ladder. Ann has flown on a trapeze and traded on the black market in Russia. She cycles up steep canyons, hikes to glacial lakes and mountain peaks, and blazes her own ski trails. As soon as she amasses a fortune, she plans to buy an island and hopes she won’t be voted off her own island.

Her fiction and essays have appeared in All Things Girl, Apt, Denver Syntax, Edifice Wrecked, Foliate Oak, Hiss Quarterly, Lily Literary Review, Short Story Library, Slow Trains, Stone Table Review, Synchronized Chaos, The Adirondack Review, The Battered Suitcase, The Citron Review, The Literary Review, Toasted Cheese, Wild Violet, Word Riot, and others. Ann’s essay, “The Tree of Hearts” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize and her story, “Afraid of the Rain” was nominated for Sundress’s Best of the Net Anthology.

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