This is the second month for this story challenge and the going is slow. We were all supposed to vote on last months submissions, but I only had one, so there is not much to vote on. I will publish the submission here, along with the beginning of my own. It’s not really voting, but I would like to hear your thoughts on the stories posted. Would you read more if were offered? What works for you? What doesn’t?
I’d also like to hear from you if you think this idea could be fun and would like to participate at some point in the future. I need to know if there is enough interest to continue this blog series.
This Month’s Prompt
A woman walks into a bar, that isn’t a bar, and it changes her life forever.
Remember, your story can be any genre, so you can get creative. Publish the results on your blog and send the link to me by the last day of the month. Be sure to label them with #WtbRStoryChallenge. Or, if you don’t have a blog, you can send the results directly to me at kayebooth@yahoo.com, and I will publish them or the links back to your blog the following month along with the writing prompt for the next month.
Stick to the rules and after 30 minutes of writing stop. I’ll be writing right along with you. I know the prompt ahead of time, but I won’t begin writing until it has posted. Be sure to have your entry to me by the last day of the month, so I can share them all for readers to vote on.
Another good thing about this not being a live event is you will have the opportunity to edit for grammar, spelling, and punctuation before submitting, and I do want it to be the best you’ve got, of course.
June Submissions
Prompt: Write a story based on a local or popular legend.
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Thanks to Sylva Fae for submitting this month, so I have something to post besides my own story.
The Wizard of Alderley Edge
by Sylva Fae
“What’s up with you, Paul? You’ve been moping around since you got here, and you haven’t even drunk your tea.”
“I’m skint, Granddad. Molly’s nagging me to book a holiday, I’ve just bought a new car and I’ve still got my student loan to pay off.”
“Pah! You youngsters don’t know how privileged you are. I thought you were getting paid well at that fancy new job of yours – you can’t be skint.”
“How would you know, Granddad? You’ve always been rich…”
“Not always, Paul. When I was a young man, I struggled to even put food on the table.”
“Seriously? You live in the biggest house in Macclesfield? Come on, Granddad, what’s the family secret to getting obscenely rich?” Paul laughed; his grandparents were one of the richest families around, owning several businesses and properties.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Granddad replied.
“Go on, try me. Seriously, I’ll take any advice you can give me.”
“It’s not that sort of story but if you want to know, it all started with a legend…”
“A legend? Seriously, Granddad?”
“Do you wanna hear this story, or what?” Granddad grumbled.
Paul nodded, and settled back to drink his tea.
“This is the legend of the sleeping king, and not just any old king, King Arthur, no less. Several places claim to be the final resting place of King Arthur and his loyal knights, but I know he lies somewhere beneath the rocks of Alderley Edge.” Granddad took a moment to sip his tea, then continued.
“A long time ago, a farmer set off along the Ridge Road, taking his white mare to market, in Macclesfield town. He frequently made the journey through the woods and knew every twisty path, rock face and shortcut. As he approached Thieves Hole, the mare stopped in the centre of the crossroads and refused to budge. The farmer, wary of local superstitions of this being the crossing into the Otherworld, urged his mare on, but was suddenly startled by an old man appearing between the trees. A long emerald cloak covered all but his wizened face and long grey beard, and he leaned heavily on a twisted staff, as he slowly made his way down the bank to the farmer.
“Where are you going with that mare?” the old man shouted after him. “I would like to buy it.”
The farmer looked at the old man and pondered, it would save him a walk if he sold the mare here, but he’d likely get a better price at the market. “Thank you, Sir, but I’ll try my luck in the market. I need to get the best price possible.”
“Heed my warning! Nobody in town will buy your mare. I will be waiting here for your return.” The old man slammed his staff down onto the rock, as if marking the spot they would meet.
The farmer finally reached the market, but wherever he went, although people admired the mare, nobody was interested in buying her. She was a fine mare too, worth far more than he was willing to take for her. Strangely, everyone he approached turned away, with the same disinterested dismissal when he tried to sell her. Perplexed, and with the old man’s warning still rumbling round his mind, he set off back across the Edge to home, leading the white mare.
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This is my submission, and will also be my second story for the by invitation only anthology, Tales From the Hanging Tree, which will be released in September.
The Legend of Cottonwood Hallow
by Kaye Lynne Booth
[1865]
Running Fox is walking along the tree line near the riverbank, searching for the [plants] White Cloud needed to initiate him as a brave in the ceremony tonight. He hears yelling at the stage stop up ahead, but he pays it no mind. Today is an important day for him and he doesn’t have time to worry about what the white man’s troubles are. Little Dove will be there tonight, watching as he becomes a man. She is the prettiest girl he has ever known, and he plans to mate with her when he is old enough to take a squaw. He kneels down to pluck up some [plants] from the muddy bank of the river, but quickly looks up at the sound of horse’s hooves approaching fast.
“Ho, there!” a big burly man in a leather coat exclaims as he dismounts from his horse, pointing a rifle right at him. “You there, Indian! What are you doing?”
Running Fox looks up at him wide eyed. He does not speak the white man’s tongue and cannot understand his words, but he understands the rifle pointed his way. His heart beats like a war drum in his chest as three other men come riding up from behind the man with the rifle, and spread out, blocking his escape from all directions. “No, tsapea,” (Let go!) he cries as the big burly man steps forward, grabbing by the arm and jerking him to his feet.
“This the one, Charlie?” the white man asks.
A small, mousy man wearing a striped shirt and spectacles comes up behind him and squints, examining Running Fox’s features. “Well, I don’t know,” the little man says, speaking barely above a whisper. “It was an Indian, but they all sort of look alike.”
“Is this the one who robbed the stage stop, Charlie?” the big man says, shaking the arm of Running Fox to emphasize his words.
The young boy tries to pull away, repeating the words, “Tsapea!”. But the man tightens his grip, holding him hard enough to hurt.
A little man wearing a white apron and visor partially covering his balding head stutters, stumbling over his words. “Well now, uh, Zeek, I’m not sure. Th-the fella who did the robbing s-s-seemed older,” the little man says, wiping sweat from his brow. “I mean, uh, this f-f-feller seems a mite young to be r-robbing anybody. I mean… he’s just a k-kid, really.”
“One Injun’s as good as another, I say,” says a gray-haired man sporting a beard and mustache. He flashes a toothless smile and smacks his lips together as Running Fox continues to struggle, trying to pull away from the meaty grip of the big man. “Ain’t a damn one of ‘em worth a sow’s ear, if you ask me?”
“Nobody did, old man,” says the burly man, still holding the rifle in his other hand. “Was the fella did the robbin’ even an Injun, Charlie?”
“Well, now… It was d-dark, you know? I… uh… I didn’t get a very g-good look. C-c-could have been, b-but I a-ain’t too sure. S-s-seemed bigger, b-but I w-was s-scared. He had a g-g-gun on me and all. I… uh… I guess it c-c-could b-be hi—”
“Oh, fer Christ sakes, Charlie,” says another man, stepping out from the shadow of the big cottonwood tree before the man called Zeek can reply.
Running Fox can’t make out his features in the afternoon son, dappled by the shadow of the tree, but he can see the glint in his eye, and it wasn’t friendly.
The man holds a piece of rope in one hand, which he holds up in front of him as he says, “You better be sure. You wouldn’t want us to hang the wrong man, would you? You’re in charge of the stage stop. If this ain’t him, I guess you’re the one to take the responsibility. Ain’t that right, boys?”
The others mumble to the affirmative, some nodding their heads as Running Fox renewed his struggles against the grip of the gruff, burly man at the sight. “Tsapea!” he said, pulling his arm away with all his might. He doesn’t understand all the men say, but he understands the meaning of that rope. His heart races and a sweat breaks out on his forehead, running down his face. He doesn’t know the why of it, but he’s pretty sure that these men intend to hang him. “Tsapea! Tsapea!”
The burly man tightens his grip and jerks back on his arm. “Settle down now,” he says. “You think you can get away?” Then he turns his attention back to Charlie, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. “Well, Charlie? We need to know. This him, or not? I can’t hold onto this ‘un forever. He’s a wildcat.”
Charlie stares at Running Fox with frightened eyes. Then, he gives a nod of his head and casts his eyes to the ground. “Y-yes. I r-reckon th-that’s him,” he says softly.
“What’s that, Charlie?” says the man with the rope. “Speak up so we can hear.”
“Th-that’s him,” Charlie says, louder this time, but without looking up.
“All right then,” the dark man says, throwing a rope over the lowest branch of the big tree. “Let’s get this done. I haven’t had any lunch yet.”
The grey-haired old man leads a horse toward him, parting the circle of men. The noose slides down over his head. The burly man lets go of him momentarily, but places both hands around Running Fox’s waist and hoists him up into the saddle, as if he were a small child.
Everything is happening too fast. Running Fox doesn’t it even have time to protest. His heart races faster in his chest than it ever has before, faster even than when he’s run for long distances. His breathing quickens as the panic rises within him. They are going to hang him, and he doesn’t even know why. Little Dove will not see him become a brave, because he will never be one. Tears squeeze from the corner of his eyes at this thought, even though he tries to fight them back. He will never see his mother again, will never make his father proud. It isn’t fair. eHis life I just beginning. Running Fox is determined to never leave this spot until he has revenge. Nothing good will ever come from this place. Just before they slap the horse’s rump, sending it charging out from under him, he issues a vow that binds his soul to the cottonwood with his last breath. “Nitea ianna.” (Curse this place).
The first three books in the My Backyard Friends kid’s book series will be released through retailers on July 16th. Written by me, Kaye Lynne Booth and Illustrated by Robbie Cheadle this series brings kids stories with moral lessons, inspired by the birds and animals that visit my backyard. All three are available for preorder now.
Meet the Characters of the My Backyard Friends Kid’s Book Series
Join us July 15-22 for the WordCrafter My Backyard Friends Book Blog Tour to send this kid’s book series off right. We’ll have a My Backyard Friends store with exclusive offers for books and MBF merchandise you won’t want to miss. The store will go up one opening day and will be available throughout this eight-day tour. Other stops will feature character interviews, guest posts from me and one from Robbie, as well as reviews of each book.
WordCrafter Press Summer Reading List Discounts
Short fiction anthologies on the WordCrafter Press Summer Reading List are discounted through August 31. Get these fantastic anthologies at great prices while they last for some entertaining and captivating summer reads.
Now through August 31, all WordCrafter Press anthologies on our summer reading list are on sale!
Lingering Spirit Whispers
Three great WordCrafter paranormal anthologies bundled into one exceptional paranormal anthology set: Whispers of the Past, Spirits of the West, and Where Spirits Linger. Thought provoking short fiction for every lover of ghost stories and paranormal tales.
Only $4.99 during the Summer Reading List Sale June 15 – August 31
Once Upon am Ever After: Modern Fairy Tales & Folklore
This unique and imaginative collection of eleven thought provoking fantasy stories will delight readers who enjoy stories of wishes gone awry.
What happens when…
A woman desires to carry on her family’s legacy, uncovering a long-buried curse?
A not so perfect witch casts a spell to defy age and preserve her relationship with her handsome shapeshifting familiar?
A time traveler longs to be the savior of knowledge lost?
An incompetent delivery boy becomes an unlikely savior of forgotten artifacts?
A magic mirror yearns for a different question?
A tiny story witch desires to share her stories with the world?
Spells are cast, unlikely alliances made, and wishes granted, sometimes with surprising outcomes. You’ll love this anthology of modern myths, lore, and fairy tales. Once you read these twisted tales, you’ll be sure to be careful what you wish for….
If you liked Gilded Glass, you’ll enjoy Once Upon an Ever After: Modern Myths & Fairy Tales, short stories with thought provoking themes, captivating characters and diverse cultures, from humorous to horrifying, from the legendary past to possible futures and back to the here and now.
Only $2.99 during the Summer Reading List Sale June 15 – August 31.
Refracted Reflections: Twisted Tales of Duality & Deception
Reflections and Refractions…
One reveals truths, while the other bends light into varying shapes of deception.
Does a small camp mirror reveal hope… or death?
Is the warrior in the mirror a monster… or a protector?
Does a glimpse in the mirror reveal a young woman’s true self… or what someone else has shaped her into?
Does the mysterious portal to the future reflect what could be… or what must be left behind?
Are the dancers reflected in the water’s depth things of beauty… or evil?
This unique and imaginative collection of nine mind tantalizing fantasy and science fiction stories will appeal to readers who enjoy thought provoking tales with hidden meanings resting deep below the surface. These stories will keep you pondering long into the night.
If you liked Gilded Glass or Once Upon an Ever After, you’ll love Refracted Reflections.
Only $2.99 during the Summer Reading List Sale June 15 – August 31.
An author’s visions are revealed through their stories. Many authors have strange and unusual stories, indeed. Within these pages, you will find the stories of eighteen different authors, each unique and thought provoking. These are the fantasy, science fiction, paranormal, and horror stories that will keep you awake long into the night.
What happens when:
An inexplicable monster plagues a town for generations, taking people… and souvenirs?
A post-apocalyptic band of travelers finds their salvation in an archaic machine?
The prey turns out to be the predator for a band of human traffickers?
Someone chooses to be happy in a world where emotions are regulated and controlled?
A village girl is chosen to be the spider queen?
Grab your copy today and find out. Let authors such as W.T. Paterson, Joseph Carabis, Kaye Lynne Booth, Michaele Jordan, Stephanie Kraner, and others, including the author of the winning story in the WordCrafter 2022 Short Fiction Contest, Roberta Eaton Cheadle, tantalize your thoughts and share their Visions
Only $3.99 during the Summer Reading List sale June 15 – August 31.
20 authors bring your nightmares to life in 23 stories of ghosts, paranormal phenomenon and the horror from the dark crevasses of their minds. Stories of stalkers, both human and supernatural, possession and occult rituals, alien visitations of the strange kind, and ghostly tales that will give you goosebumps. These are the tales that will make you fear the dark. Read them at the Midnight Roost… if you dare.
Only $4.99 during the WordCrafter Summer Readng List Sale June 15 – August 31.
Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter.
I want to shake things up a bit on this blog. I’d like to stir up more reader engagement. So, I thought it might be fun to run a monthly story challenge and see if I couldn’t entice some of you to play along.
I got the idea from Story Wars, a group of authors who hold live writing events twice a month in Cleveland, Ohio and are doing impromptu writing and story telling a little differently. They will be doing an live event at the Author Nation Conference in Vegas, which is what used to be the 20Booksto50k Conference, under new ownership, now hosted by Author Nation.
What they do sounded like a lot of fun, so I thought I’d try something similar here on the blog. Here’s how it will work. Each month I will provide a story prompt in my post and then you all can take that and sit down to write for 30 minutes to see what you come up with. It can be any genre, just let your voice come through and shine.
Now I know that’s not enough time to write a complete story, of course. But it is enough to give you a good start. Publish the results on your blog and send the link to me by the last day of the month. Be sure to label them with #WtbRStoryChallenge. Or, if you don’t have a blog, you can send the results directly to me, and I will publish them the following month along with the writing prompt for the next month.
Now here’s the fun part. Each reader can vote in the comments for the story beginning they like best in the comments, even if you are a participant in the challenge. You can vote for your own story, or for someone else’s that you honestly feel is best. And each month last month’s winners will be announced. The top three will receive an invitation to finish the story and submit it to WordCrafter Press for inclusion in an anthology.
And of course, if you have a good start, you can always finish the story, even if you don’t get an anthology invitation. And I hope you do.
Winners will be announced the following month, after voting and I will continue to post winners after the challenge ends.
Now this is an experiment, so I’m running the series for six months just to see how it goes. If I’m not receiving any submissions, I may not run it that long, because the idea is to garner engagement from my reader community. But I hoping there will be interest in this fun writing exercise as way to flex writing muscles you may not use in your usual writing processes. If the response is high, and I see that there’s interest, I may decide to continue it longer.
Story Wars is a live event, so its participants really must improvise. There’s no time to outline or plot. Since this challenge is not live, you all will have time to think about what you want to write. I do ask that you don’t resort to formal plotting or outlining, as testing out those improv skills is a big part of the fun. The idea is to let your voice take the reins and run with it. Your story can be silly or serious, scary or romantic, mysterious or fantastical. And remember it is not expected to be a complete story, although hopefully you’ll be able to finish it, if you are voted a top three winner. Are you ready for some word play?
June Writing Prompt
Write a story based on a local or popular legend.
This month’s prompt should bring something to mind easily. We all know local legends or have heard one which is widely known. Pick your legend and write your tale based on it. It can be a retelling using your voice, but if you do this, please write the portion of a story which sets your story apart from previous tellings.
Stick to the rules and after 30 minutes of writing stop. I’ll be writing right along with you. I know the prompt ahead of time, but I won’t begin writing until it has posted. Be sure to have your entry to me by the last day of the month, so I can share them all for readers to vote on.
Another good thing about this not being a live event is you will have the opportunity to edit for grammar, spelling, and punctuation before submitting, and I do want it to be the best you’ve got, of course.
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About Kaye Lynne Booth
For Kaye Lynne Booth, writing is a passion. Kaye Lynne is an author with published short fiction and poetry, both online and in print, including her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction; and her paranormal mystery novella, Hidden Secrets; Books 1 & 2 of her Women in the West adventure series, Delilah and Sarah, and her Time-Travel Adventure novel, The Rock Star & The Outlaw. Kaye holds a dual M.F.A. degree in Creative Writing with emphasis in genre fiction and screenwriting, and an M.A. in publishing. Kaye Lynne is the founder of WordCrafter Quality Writing & Author Services and WordCrafter Press. She also maintains an authors’ blog and website, Writing to be Read, where she publishes content of interest in the literary world.
Being an author today is more than just writing the book. Authors in this digital age have more opportunities than ever before. Whether you pursue independent or traditional publishing models, or a combination of the two, being an author involves not only writing, but often, the publishing and marketing of the book.
In this writer’s reference guide, multi-genre author and independent publisher, Kaye Lynne Booth shares her knowledge and experiences and the tools, books, references and sites to help you learn the business of being an author.
I’m excited to announce that the winner of the 2024 WordCrafter Short Fiction Contest is M.J. Mallon, with her story, “The Seagull Man” – an exquistly dark short story. Runners-up have also been invited to be included in the anthology and a select few were asked to revise and submit for round two amd may be included, depending on how much room we have after all invitational submissions have been considered.
Runners-up included:
“The Fae Game”, by Danaeka Scrimshaw
“The Peddler”, by Peter McKay
“The Blackest Ink”, by Paul Martz
“Antepenultimate”, by Molly Ertel
We had a good number of submissions to the contest this year, and together with the stories submitted by invitation, we’re going to have a deliciously dark fiction anthology come October. I am going through the invitational submissions now.
I’ve been meeting and greeting within author communities for sixteen years. First, as the Southern Colorado Literature Examiner for six years, and then, right here, on Writing to be Read . The payoff for these wasn’t in money, but in the opportunities they offered. I’ve met so many authors and was introduced to the writing world through those two things. And then, while working for my M.F.A., I met even more authors; traditionally published authors who were making a living from their writing, and I learned from them. When I went back to get my masters in publishing, I was privilaged to study under a true master, international and national bestselling author, Kevin J. Anderson and through the masters program and KJA, I met several industry experts, including Jonathan Maberry and Mark Leslie Lefebvre, and I learned from even more who were gracious enough to speak to my cohort, either in person or on Zoom. I’ve also met authors through various WordCrafter projects, such as the two virtual writing conferences which WordCrafter hosted in 2020 and 2021; great people who answered the call when I put it out, and ran workshops and sat on discussion panels and helped me to make those two events happen.
Tribes
And I have to say, there’s something special about authors. They seem to gravitate toward these tightnit communities where you can be a member due to only a shared love of craft. Most call themselves author communities, KJA calls them his tribe. I like that. It has a feeling of kinship to it. By giving me instruction in the publishing industry, he welcomed me into his tribe, and by being a part of my blog team, or collaborating with me on an anthology or other projects, or even by participating in discussions and being a regular visitor and name I recognized, you are welcomed into my tribe.
Authors aren’t the only people who do this kind of thing. It’s human nature for people to gravitate toward others who are like minded. There are Corvette clubs and antique car clubs, bridge clubs, and fan clubs for people who enjoy the same musical artists. But the thing is, none of the people in those clubs really know each other and they aren’t likely to go out of their way to lend a hand to someone else when the only thing they have in common is a love for one particular thing. But authors do. Authors are the most generous group of people, willing to share their knowledge with one antoher, willing to donate their time and energies to projects, willing to lift one antoher up. It is amazing to me.
Networking
In Hollywood, it is said that it is all about who you know, but this is true in a sense, for writing and publishing. Networking with fellow authors can open doors that would otherwise be closed to us. Through other authors we learn of opportunities that we might not be aware of otherwise, and we meet people who are like minded, who may endorse your book, or perhaps review it. We meet folks who are interested in the craft of writing, just like we are, and many are willing to trade off services, which can make outsourcing that would be quite costly, suddenly become something that is in reach.
Collaborations
I’ve met many authors through collaborations. The virtual writing conferences mentioned above is only one type of collaboration. There are many others. I also mentioned anthologies. I 💜 anthologies. Wordcrafter Press puts out one poetry anthology, and at least one short fiction anthology per year. These are collaborations of from six to twenty different authors per book.
The great thing about anthologies is, you have a bunch of different authors who each have their own following and the potential to broadcast and promote to that following, allowing you to reach a much wider audience of potential readers, and therefore purchasers of your book. The same works for other collaborative projects, too. I have capitalized on this for the virtual writing conferences which WordCrafter Press hosted, as well.
Paying it Forward
The philosophy of paying it forward is predominate through the author communities that I find myself a part of . KJA is one of the busiest people I know, yet he didn’t balk at all when I invited him to be my first guest as I revive the “Chatting with the Pros” blog series, and he was willing to take the time to do an author interview with me. That segment will be coming up later this month.
This is only one example of the good-heartedness found in memebers of the author community. I’ve been granted review and interview requests, blurbs or endorsements of my books, and booked speakers and workshop presenters with authors willing to donate their time. And all I had to do was ask.
I have done this by doing book reviews for authors I know who haven’t requested it, by editing all anthology submissions whether I invite them to be in the anthology or not, by doing a proofread or beta read at no charge for certain authors who have requested them, by donating my time to judge the Spur awards, and by reblogging or reposting the promos and reviews of my fellow authors.
Authors are generally good people. And just as I am proud to be a member of KJA’s tribe, I’m equally as proud to call each one of you as memebers of mine.
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About Kaye Lynne Booth
For Kaye Lynne Booth, writing is a passion. Kaye Lynne is an author with published short fiction and poetry, both online and in print, including her short story collection, Last Call and Other Short Fiction; and her paranormal mystery novella, Hidden Secrets; Books 1 & 2 of her Women in the West adventure series, Delilah and Sarah, and her Time-Travel Adventure novel, The Rock Star & The Outlaw. Kaye holds a dual M.F.A. degree in Creative Writing with emphasis in genre fiction and screenwriting, and an M.A. in publishing. Kaye Lynne is the founder of WordCrafter Quality Writing & Author Services and WordCrafter Press. She also maintains an authors’ blog and website, Writing to be Read, where she publishes content of interest in the literary world.
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This post is sponsored by The D.I.Y. Author and WordCrafter Press.
Being an author today is more than just writing the book. Authors in this digital age have more opportunities than ever before. Whether you pursue independent or traditional publishing models, or a combination of the two, being an author involves not only writing, but often, the publishing and marketing of the book.
In this writer’s reference guide, multi-genre author and independent publisher, Kaye Lynne Booth shares her knowledge and experiences and the tools, books, references and sites to help you learn the business of being an author.
I’m pleased to announce that Poetry Treasures 4: Natural World will be released in April. Featuring the poetry of Andrew McDowell, Robbie Cheadle, Patricia Furstenberg, Marsha Meara, Luanne Castle, D.L. Finn, Emily Gmitter, Kaye Lynne Booth, Selma Martin, Meril D. Smith, Frank Prem, and Colleen Chesebro. We are shooting for April 8th for this one, but stay tuned, as I’ll be posting an updates with more information on its release.
Short Fiction Contest Deadline
Just a reminder: The deadline for the 2024 WordCrafter Short Fiction Contest is April 30. So get those dark fiction stories in before it is too late. It’s only $5 to enter. Winner guaranteed inclusion in the WordCrafter 2024 Short Fiction Anthology, as yet untitled. You can find submission guidelines and fee entry portal here: https://writingtoberead.com/2024/01/01/call-for-submissions/
Get all your favorite WordCrafter Press books today!
If there are WordCrafter Press books on your TBR list, now is the time to buy them. All WordCrafter Press Books are 50% off for the Smashwords 2024 Read an Ebook Week. That’s right. All titles in the WordCrafter Press catalog are on discounted 50% this week only on Smashwords.
Titles Included:
Ask the Authors: Writing Reference Anthology, by Kaye Lynne Booth, et. al.
Ask the Authors 2022: Writing Reference Anthology, by Kaye Lynne Booth, et. al.
Behind Closed Doors: A Collection of Unusual Poems, by Robbie Cheadle
Delilah: Book 1 of the Women in the West adventure series, by Kaye Lynne Booth
Feral Tenderness: Poetry & Photography, by Arthur Rosch
Hidden Secrets: Paranormal Mystery Novella, by Kaye Lynne Booth
Last Call and Other Short Fiction: short story collection, by Kaye Lynne Booth
The Mississippi river appears frequently to the left side of the road, as the Continental digests miles under its Goodyears. The river is like a giant python at the bottom of the bluff, twisting its silty way towards New Orleans. At Cairo it meets the Ohio River in a megalithic “Y”. The different colors of the different rivers make discreet etchings in the basic silver brown in the serpentine body of The Mississippi.
Zoot is snoring lightly, slumped in the front passenger seat with his elbow on the armrest, his head bumping gently against the rolled-up window. The car’s air conditioning is roaring like a distant storm, its wind coming from black plastic vents in the dashboard.
Aaron is in the back seat, trying to read a science fiction novel. The car’s motion is making him sick, so he puts the book down and watches the River as it appears and disappears amongst rows of trees.
Zoot jerks awake suddenly, yawns, rubs his eyes. He inspects Tyrone’s driving, looks at the speedometer. “You’re going a hundred miles an hour, man, and you in the slow lane. There’s a cop that cruises this road by name of Furley Robinson and he will love to jail my ass, so ease it on up.”
Tyrone looks innocent. “I don ‘t know how that happened, Zoot, sorry.” The speedometer drifts in fits and starts back down to seventy.
Zoot cranes his neck to see Aaron, slumped boredly in the back seat.
“I ever tell you the story of my true musical roots, of my Arkansas heritage?”
Aaron perks up and leans forward over the soft leather upholstery.
“Which one? The one about Preacher Scarby and the girls in the choir?”
“No, no, this one even earlier and more rooty than that one.”
“Let’s hear it, Zoot, we all ears,” Tyrone says, lighting up a cigarette.
“This is back when I was five, six years old,” says Zoot. “All the black farmers in Arkansas get together once a year for a musical festival, a Pig Squeezin’. They’d come from evahwhere, they’d come from Dawes County and Little Creek and Big Creek, from Meaty Bottom and Cradle Cave. They’d bring their best musical pigs and their women and children would barbecue up some ribs and haunches and they would contend for the position of Master Pig Squeezer. “
Aaron smiles. Tyrone wrinkles his brow, hoping to concentrate on the road but sneaking glances at Zoot, trying to discern just how far in his cheek is his mentor’s tongue.
“The greatest Pig Squeezer of all is a big fat gentleman by the name of Eufustus Rathbone. Y’ll understand, Pig Squeezin is a subtle art, it combines animal genetics, musical training, weight lifting and other forms of athletics and requires a fine hand at dealing with the hogs. You gotta take em when they’re tiny piglets and get em used to the feel of your armpit, your knees, you get piglets that like bein’ squeezed and handled evah which way. Takes a calm and pliable pig to squeal and bellow on cue. Why, Eufustus Rathbone can get a note out of both ends of a pig just by flexing his bicep, he is that good. He has a pig named Joby that can fart an E flat and squeal a perfect third above it.”
Aaron pats both his thighs hard, then pats them again, more softly.
Zoot pauses to light his three o’clock cheroot.
“You’re putting us on, right?” Tyrone swings his head sideways, then back to the road, then sideways,then back to the road.
“Lord’s Truth,” Zoot swears, solemnly. He winks at Aaron.
“This must have been nineteen ten, nineteen eleven,” Zoot continues. “It was my first Pig Squeezin and I thinks I is in heaven, they is so many people, so much food on big long tables, all kinds of little girls runnin’ round in checkered dresses with pretty hats.”
He exhales his stream of smoke languidly, cracks the window a bit to clear the air inside the car. Tyrone lights yet another in a constant string of Camels.
“You’re smoking too much,” he admonishes Tyrone. “You know that stuff wilts your dick, don’t you?”
Tyrone hastily stuffs out the butt in the ash tray. “Damn,” he says, “one fun thing fucks up another fun thing. Doesn’t seem fair.”
Aaron puts his chin into the crevice between the front seats, as if to prompt Zoot to continue his story.
“Okay, after two solid days of Squeezin’, there’s only three Squeezers left who can get up and withstand the sheer virtuosity of Eufustus Rathbone. This man has been Squeezin’ Master for six years runnin’. He has raised himself a breed of musical hogs that are light of weight but solid in volume and tone. He gets up on the stage that is built right there in the middle of Hanky Parkins’ fresh-mowed soybean field. He’s got Joby in one hand, he’s got two piglets named Squeak and Tweak on rope leashes, and he’s got an old sow named Hester draggin’ her udders on the floor boards. Hester is like his old standby, a reliable bass pig. He can just give her a jiggle and she will go ‘honk’ on the downbeat and the upbeat.”
Zoot’s left hand waves in the air and pictures seem to flow from his fingers, apparitions in the drifting smoke that lazily spiral up from the cheroot held loosely in his right hand.
“Eufustus starts out with The Star Spangled Banner, just to keep things simple, not to raise expectations or nothin’. The pigs squeeze in perfect counterpoint. Eufustus is sitting on the low three-legged Squeezin’ Stool, and he’s got Joby between his legs where he can control the pitch by bringing his thighs together, he’s got Hester under one foot and he’s got Squeak and Tweak in each armpit. After the national anthem he looks around as if to say, ‘can anybody top that? The crowd goes wild, everybody claps, looks like it’s all over. But when the noise dies down, a youngster by the name of Chester Wankus comes up the steps leading just two little piglets. There’s a gasp from the crowd, people saying ‘he can’t do shit with no two piglets, who he think he is?’ But Chester just scoots that Squeezin’ Stool over, sits down and starts squeezin’ these piglets and he gets them fartin’ and squealing and he plays “Battle Hymn of the Republic” real fast and he’s tapping with his feet too. It is amazing. Old Eufustus puffs up his chest like nothin’ happened, takes the stool back and plays the “Overture from The Marriage of Figaro”. The crowd falls silent, they figure that’s it, all over, nothin’ can top that. Chester leaves his piglets on the stage, jumps off the back, picks up a two hundred pound sow like it’s a twig and puts her on the stage, then jumps back up and gets her inside his legs. He takes a deep breath, everybody’s waitin’ for whatever’s gonna come next.”
Zoot leans forward and flicks the ash from his cheroot into the ashtray. He looks out the window. The sun is midway down the afternoon sky and its rays flash back from the river.
“Chester takes a minute to get himself braced, then he starts squeezin and out comes a perfect contrapuntal version of the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. The sow is a trifle flat out her behind but Chester compensates skillfully by increasing the pressure from his feet and the rhythm is powerful enough that Eufustus starts turning a darker shade of brown than he already is. Joby just lays down on her side and Chester’s two piglets run over and start nursin’ from her. You’d think that is the end of the story but just then up comes a teenage boy from Smith County, and he’s got four piglets on leather leashes, he’s got a three hundred pound sow and he’s got a hairy wild boar in some kind of crazy harness. The judges take some time debating whether that is legal or not, but they allowed it, I mean a wild boar is a wild boar and they just have to give the kid points for difficulty.”
“What’s your name, kid?” the head judge asks.
“The kid replies, ‘My name is Felix Twitty and I’m from Smith County near the town of Goose’s Crack.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little ostentatious, all them pigs?”
The crowd grumbles its agreement, I mean, if the kid can ‘t come through with something tremendous he’d be seen as a total poseur, a Nouveau Squeezer with a big ego. He just takes the stool nice and calm, positions that boar under his left arm, arranges them other pigs in various ways with one of ‘em under his chin and he starts to play. At first nobody recognizes the music. It sounds good, it sounds mighty good, and finally the crowd realizes that the kid is playing Wagner’s “Finale from Das Rheingold” and he is making the boar sing the part of Thor and making the piglets do the parts of the Rhinemaidens. It is spectacular! Everybody almost passes out from amazement and Felix Twitty sure as hell won the Master Pig Squeazer prize for that year and for the next five years. He’s remembered as one of the greatest squeezers in history, and might have broken Tolly Scoobus’ eight year run, ‘cept he went off to France in World War One and got shot by a farmer who thought he was stealin’ pigs. He was just playin’ scales in the barn! All he wanted was a little practice. Mighty shame, that was. Mighty shame.”
The occupants of the car drive in silence for a while.
“You’re not pullin’ my leg, are you?” Tyrone asks sincerely.
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
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Its the start of a new year and time to announce the call for submissions for the annual WordCrafter Press short fiction contest. For 2024, the theme will be dark fiction of any genre: Dark Fantasy, Science Fiction, Paranormal, Dark Humor, Horror, Noir… I’ll even accept romance, if the story is dark.
The submission deadline is April 30, and the as yet, untitled anthology will be released in October. All submissions will be considered for publication, and the winning story is guaranteed a spot in the anthology. Follow the submission guidelines below.
Submission Guidelines
WordCrafter Press is looking for original short stories with dark elements. Previously unpublished stories only.
Genres: Any genre as long as the story is dark.
Length: up to 5000 words
Submission Deadline: April 30, 2024
Pay: Royalty share
Rights: First Anthology Rights and audio rights as part of the anthology; rights revert to author one month after publication; publisher retains non-exclusive right to include in the anthology as a whole.
Open to submissions from January 1 through April 30, 2024.
Submit: A Microsoft Word or RTF file in standard manuscript format to KLBWordCrafter@gmail.com
