 
## Liphar Magazine Issue 2

LitArtMagazine

Copyright 2014 Liphar

Spangaloo –Smashwords Edition

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Copyright © 2014 by Liphar Magazine. All rights reserved.

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**Contents**

Editorial:

Credits

Articles

Why the Quality Reviewer can be a Writer's Great Asset

Power of the Word

Facebook- Social Media Gone Wrong

The Road to London \--Review

Smashwords to the Rescue

Editing Software Lacks Perfection

Thought Food

Interviews

Emma Styles

Jane Yates

Patrick Brigham

Stories

The Billy Goat Caper

How Charlie Saved my Life

The Survivalists

Art Gallery

Joshua Townley

Laurie Shanholtzer

Books Worth Reading
Credits

**Editor:** Deuce Wylde

Staff Writers

John Laval

James Blanchette

Theo Jansen

Alvin Johnston

Wilbur Hollinger

Guest Columnists

Martin Fox

Madi Preda

Contributors:

Queen of Spades

James Bryron Love

Robert Saltzman

Ndaba Sibanda

Rochelle Campbell

Felicity Harley

Cover Image:

From an Original Oil Painting by

James Bryron Love

http://jamesbryronlove.com

At my Desk...

What an overwhelming response to our first issue! Such positive and uplifting comments to articles, interviews and stories we received. We at Liphar would like to thank you for your support and feedback. This makes it all worthwhile.

We will not rest on our laurels though, but continue to improve our high standard with more in- depth articles, more probing interviews, whilst keeping you abreast with books reviews and new trends.

As the reader, we value your comments on articles, interviews, articles, stories, art and photo gallery and book reviews. This is an opportunity for you to give us your opinion. You can do this autonomously with feedback on anything you read in Liphar.

To reiterate for submissions of articles: nominate yourself or someone else for an interview, advertise, or submit photographs with good composition that reflect your work and images of your art that reflect your particular style. Artists and non-professional photographers are welcome to submit their work to the Art Gallery. Please contact the relevant department at http://litartmag.com/index.php

In this issue: An inspiring erotic memoir interview with Emma Styles of a married woman's sexual journey from housewife to fully liberated muse and plaything. Oxford mother, Jane Yates with the reading age of a 12-year-old and the spelling age of an eight-year-old, has swept her dyslexia aside to write her first novel; shares her struggles in an interview. Wilbur Hollinger examines editing software and its usefulness as a tool to a writer. Staff reporter, John Loval, focuses on Smashwords as a viable choice for self-publishing authors.

Deuce Wylde

### Facebook- Social Media Gone Wrong

By **Alvin Johnston**

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, wait, that's a different story and doesn't really apply here. Facebook and social media is the topic and not how a group of rebels beat back an evil empire. There still may be some similarities.

Since its IPO offering, Facebook has continued to grow and not necessarily in a good way. There are still many harbingers of doom related to how Facebook operates. They've lost touch with their clientele and now scramble to remedy that situation.

Teenagers have left Facebook in droves, seeking easier ways to express themselves. With many more choices that seem to be obvious, there was a mass migration to Instagram and snap chat.

Facebook has acquired Instagram for the godly price of $1 billion, or thereabouts, but SnapChat turned down $3 billion dollars. SnapChat chose to keep themselves separate from everything and forge ahead on their own.

Let's get back to the beginning years of 2003 and 2004. Facebook started as a project and some of the legalities are questionable. Originally, many people just added to it from the University, a definite invasion of privacy. It has spiraled out of control since then, most notably from its inception. It was bad press that led to its stardom. People wanted to know more about Facebook, more people joined and the word spread. Word-of-mouth propelled it to its heights of enormity. This all seem to happen overnight.

The bad press was a privacy issue, a couple of students wrote some disparaging comments about one of their teachers. The press waded in with a vengeance and soon a fair part of the world was aware of Facebook.

One of the original social media sites was called MySpace. It steadily lost ground to Facebook and since then, had to reinvent itself as something different.

The value of a brief history lesson on Facebook should not be wasted on you. The reason it makes it relevant is because of how Facebook handles their advertising structure. They took the basics of Google and tried to migrate it into their own.

The main problem with Facebook advertising is that it doesn't work; it doesn't seem to have any real value on promoting whatever it is you're selling. Now, as it is modeled after Google, it's the price per click that determines how often your ad is seen. They also have some basic geographical tools available, but still haven't hit the market with anything that works.

Google has been successful in their advertising models on a global scale. Their advertising works. Google makes money. Facebook does not.

Since its inception, Facebook has lost money every single year no matter what. Since their IPO, they been looking at ways to strengthen not only their offerings to the public, but also their bottom line often disregarding the very clientele that is propelled them to the top spot in social media.

Customer service is lacking on all levels and it seems the only focus is to try and retain membership and sell advertising.

Facebook's sole purpose for authors and artists, as well as businesses is simply brand recognition. You need a Facebook presence to help establish yourself in any market. It is not suggested to use their advertising services, because it seems just to be a waste of money.

If Facebook truly does not make any money, what sense is there to expanding their offerings to include such programs as Instagram? Simply put, they are attempting to maintain their market. Facebook has struggled long and hard to try to retain the membership of teenagers, but to no avail. They moved onto other services and don't want to return. Instagram is filled with teenagers because it lacks the restrictions that Facebook has directly placed upon them.

Unfortunately, for social media presence similar to Facebook, there are no real contenders. It doesn't mean there isn't and never will be, just that there are currently none available.

Facebook spent billions on maintaining public awareness of themselves. They try to buy things that they can incorporate as part of their services to further their stranglehold on the population. Facebook has over 1 billion members, if estimates are correct. You are truly just a number to them and that's all. They suspend accounts with little or no provocation is evidence of something being done wrong. Ironically, Facebook is all about friends, but if you add somebody and they object, you may not be able to add any more friends for a few weeks. You can't fight them on this either, because no one ever gets back to you with a real answer. Horrible customer service should be their motto!

What makes this relevant to authors, artists and photographers is that they are often tricked into using Facebook advertising. It is suggested that you grow your audience and become successful as a direct result; is it worth wasting the hundreds of dollars in advertising? If you want to waste money on advertising, Google will offer better results. Private advertising will offer better results. If someone likes on your Facebook page, rarely it results in a sale. I don't see that changing anytime soon. It's harder to sell advertising if you have to be honest and tell them it won't work.

It is a sad thing that the major social media presences out there, Twitter and Facebook have poor relations with their customers.

Their customers are what is responsible for their immense growth and should not be ignored and treated badly.

Customer service issues reflect Facebooks ever growing problems when it comes to dealing with you, but you would think that they least be working on a better solution then swallowing up other companies for a quick fix.

As for SnapChat, refusing a $3 billion buyout bid, here are some of the reasons. Instagram was purchased for $1 billion dollars. They didn't get 1 billion in cash. Most of the 1 billion is in Facebook shares. It is estimated they received 300 million as part of the cash settlement. 300 million is still a nice number, but hardly $1 billion in cash. Now if Facebook's stock price plummets, so does the rest of the investment where they didn't receive cash.

SnapChat's exact offer from Facebook is not currently known, but you can bet it is heavily filled with Facebook shares and probably not nearly enough cash.

They are working on backend methods to retain their membership base. Perhaps Facebook should actually listen to their membership and find out how to do the things that their members wants done. Facebook lost the teenage audience, directly because of the restrictions that they placed, restrictions that are still in place. Instead of fixing the problems that exist, they bought one of the services that many of their members have joined. This is a bad fix and may result in the same teenagers leaving that particular service because Facebook now owns it.

Social media is here to stay, but to stay viable, that relies on your participation something these major companies have a tendency to forget. If everyone who had a problem with Facebook left, what would the retention rate be? I think they would succumb to heavy losses, but they count on one thing...you have nowhere else to go.

### The Billy Goat Caper

By **Robert Saltzman**

Thieves and Scoundrels

The words criminal masterminds are an oxymoron to Bobby. He knew that sooner or later you're going to slip up, and then it will be "gotcha". The one thing that can be counted on is someone trying to beat the system. Trying to make that quick buck and not even believing they will ever get caught.

Bobby Salter and Angela Gomez are two shining stars in the NYPD. Promoted from Plain Clothes to Detective after surviving a horrific shootout where Bobby's old partner was killed in action. As they rose through the ranks they reconnected to take on a dangerous street gang on the lower east side of Manhattan. While Bobby and Angel, were working that case. Lt Hall told them "work it, but there are crimes happening right now that needed attention". Bobby and Angel went on a crime solving spree, one of those crimes that stood out was the Billy Goat Burglaries.

Bobby and Angel were dispatched to a burglary at Pitt St. and East Broadway. Seems someone had gotten into an apartment of a so called secure building. The apartment belonged to Hy and Ida Goldman. They owned and operated a small kiosk in the diamond district. Some of these kiosks are small businesses earning a nice comfortable living. Hy has a brother in Israel that has a connection for diamonds from Africa. It's a family affair everyone gets a piece of the pie. The diamonds take a seditious trip from Africa to Israel. Then to the U.S. Diamonds are traded and sold up and down West Forty Seventh St. all day five days a week. To say there were no "blood diamonds" being sold or traded would be a stretch. It would be like saying there is no Mafia and they are not into bookmaking anymore. The Goldman's liked to live close to their business so they bought a co-op on Pitt St. in a high rise building. The reason Hy picked it out is that the apartment is on the twelfth floor in a secure building. The apartments have heavy real wood doors with dead bolts. It would take a police battering ram to knock it down. The lobby is locked and security cameras record every angle of the entrance doors and the lobby.

Someone had managed to get in, able to scoop up about $60,000 in jewelry and took the family heirloom silverware. The cheese box safe had been mangled and pulled out of the wall then pried open. The C.S.U. guys were examining the dead bolt lock and determined that if they got in though the door they either had a key or was an expert lock pick. The lobby security tapes yielded no one suspicious only the residents of the building coming or going during the time Hy and Ida had gone out and returned. Angel started to check the windows; one window off the corner of the building was closed but not locked. Further examination yielded small scratches on the locking lever. She opened the window and saw climber's pitons or anchors nailed into the wall. She backed up and yelled to Bobby "put out an A.P.B. on Spiderman". The crook had climbed up the side of the building and came in through the window. He kept himself in a corner in the dark, and then moved over to open the window and creep in. He got out the same way, repelled down the building, pulled the rope down and disappeared. He had to know what he was doing Bobby figured with the loot his equipment he was carrying a good fifteen to twenty pounds. Bobby shook his head thinking this guy is good, no prints or DNA. All they could do was to put out the word to other squads to be on the lookout for large amounts of jewelry being fenced. That was going to be almost impossible to trace unless they tried to cash in at a legitimate Pawn shop. He had to tell the Goldman's that their property was most likely gone forever. The stolen merchandise was insured but the silverware was in the family from when Ida's grandparents came to the U.S. in the late eighteen hundreds. On the criminal market they would get about fifteen hundred dollars, to the Goldman's it was priceless. Each piece was monogrammed with an R for Ida's family name Rothstein. The set should have been handed down to their daughter, now it was probably being shifted and resold. The good thing was they had pictures of the case and the silverware and it was distributed to all Pawn shops. Bobby could only hope the crook was stupid enough to try to pawn it locally.

Bobby and Angel went back to the house and started to put out the BOLO's and feelers to the neighborhood snitches just to see if they can get a lead. They were less than optimistic that anything would shake down but that was the job. CSU had come up empty on prints or any DNA; there was nothing left at the scene. In the old days they would call this kind of thief a second story man, now this guy went up twelve floors. Bobby was certain it wasn't dumb luck he knew exactly what apartment to hit and when the occupants would be gone. They were defiantly watched and he knew their schedule. It was a Thursday the day they went up to the Bronx to have dinner with their daughter. They usually closed the kiosk at five and took the subway uptown. They normally stayed for about four hours getting home by ten. That gave the crook a nice stretch of time to do his dastardly deed. Going up the side of the building under the cover of darkness, then like a shadow disappearing into the night. If the thief sold the loot on the criminal market he would get about a third of the true value about twenty five thousand dollars. Bobby figured the crook would lay low, fence the goods and not hit again until he ran out of money. Bobby was wrong before and this time was no exception, two weeks later another high rise was hit this time seven floors up. The thief had climbed up the balconies and came in through the double glass doors. Art dealer Matt Franklin was robbed of two six thousand dollar Rolex watches a diamond ring and cash. Mr. Franklin was out of town at an art auction in L.A. he came home to find his apartment had been broken into and his jewelry box emptied. It was clear to Bobby this was the same guy, the M.O. fit like a glove, the report read almost identical to the Pitt St robbery. It was geographically in the same area, he has been working in his comfort zone. It would certainly be easy to pick up a target. The guy standing next to you at the coffee shop may notice the Rolex on your wrist, or the fancy car you park at the local garage. Once he follows you he can get your schedule, people are creatures of habit and thieves counted on you being consistent in your daily life. He may have been so bold as to meet you at your business and finds out your going to be out of town, or in the case of the Goldman's picking up on their Thursday night dinners in the Bronx. Bobby and Angel did the only thing they could do, wait until he slipped up.

Mountain Man

Growing up in the Appalachians a boy has to be a climber, walls, hills, mountains and rock faces. At an early age Billy wanted to climb every day. He challenged himself daily pushing the envelope. By the time he was in his teens he was making it straight up the smoothest rock faces he could find. He felt free and really enjoyed the solitude of being flat against the rocks two hundred feet in the air. He could grab onto the smallest pieces of rock to propel himself up foot by foot. In his later years he learned how to climb the sheerest of cliffs by using ropes and pitons. He would carry the rope to the top and came down by repelling himself with a swift drop. The tallest building in his hometown was fifty five feet. He was eager to climb the tallest buildings he could find. When he was twenty six he quit his job at the coal mine, threw his gear in the old van he had been driving and headed for the canyons of New York. Working day labor for gas and food he slept in his van. His goal was to climb a building, a flat face of brick and mortar. He started on abandoned buildings along the docks some of them were six or ten stories. His first occupied building was a fifteen story apartment building. As he approached the roof a window on the top floor was open a crack at the bottom. He slid over and pushed the window up peering inside and at the empty apartment. He lifted himself inside and walked around; he went into the bedroom and opened the jewelry box on the dresser. It was brimming with gold chains a few rings and a watch. He scooped them up, put it all in a little cloth sack and went back out the window. The Pawn shop operator ripped him off giving him eighty dollars, he was sure it was worth a lot more but the shop owner said "hey no questions asked, take or leave it". He took it and headed for the nearest gin joint. As he sat nursing a beer he spotted a woman at the end of the bar, chain smoking and sipping her glass of whiskey. She looked at him and their eyes met, he smiled at her and he sent a drink her way. She looked over and thanked him, then patted the stool next to her. Drinking and smoking until closing time they walked out of the bar holding each other up. He invited her to his van; they both stepped inside and fell asleep. In the morning he woke up to see her next to him hardly remembering the night before. As they both still had their clothes on he knew nothing had happened. He stepped out and came back with two coffees and a couple of cheese Danish. When she woke she took few sips of the coffee, leaned over and kissed his cheek. It started in a drunken haze; he could see she was older than him maybe thirty. Her face was weathered; her cheekbones were high almost American Indian looking. She looked at him and asked if he remembered her name, it stuck in his throat but he blurted out Rebecca. She smiled and "said close its Ramona", he looked back at her and said "Billy". She said she remembered and they laughed.

What do you do Billy? Do you live in this van? Billy wasn't too eager to tell her he worked day labor and does burglaries. He just told he was between jobs and yes he has been living in his van. She told him she was on disability and living in a flea bag hotel. She told him how it was full of roaches and the other tenants were parasites. Two of the tenants tried to rape her so she slept with a club by her bed. Her story touched him and he asked her if she wanted to get out of there, she could stay with him in the van or they could get a place. She instantly said yes, and then slid the door closed. An hour later they went to her hotel and took showers. They gathered up her belongings and stuffed it all in the van. The Billy and Ramona show had started, eventually he told how he had climbed up the side of building and how he had burglarized an apartment. Her eyes lit up as she thought of the possibilities. They drove over to the lower east side as she pointed out buildings asking if he could climb that one or that one. He told her he can climb anything, but he was worried that the apartment may not be empty. That's when Ramona came up with a plan. Pick someone out from one of the high rise condos, follow them get their schedule. If they are gone at night they would be fair game. It was on Pitt St. when they spotted the Goldman's. They followed them onto the subway and saw them at work. Ramona was excited they had to have a ton of jewelry in the apartment after all they worked in the diamond district. Ramona wandered inside the mall looking at rings and earrings. When she came to the Goldman's kiosk she stopped a chatted with Ida. She took one of their business cards and went back outside. She had their name and where they lived, it was all too easy to find their apartment number from the mailboxes and Billy piggybacked in to the building to find the apartment location. It was a corner apartment with windows on the alley side of the building. Perfect for going up in a corner and be hidden from street view. They followed them every day for two weeks. The first time the Goldman's went to the Bronx they were wishing they were downtown at the apartment building. When they left work the following Thursday they did the same trip to the Bronx. Next week would be different, Ramona will watch the Goldman's and Billy would be at the apartment building waiting for her to call. When she did he knew they were headed for the Bronx, he tossed the rope over this shoulder and put on his backpack. He was up and on the wall in a minute, it took him about 10 minutes to get up to the tenth floor, he moved up two more floors and swung over to the window. He pried open the lever lock opened the window and slid in. He went right to the bedroom and cleared the jewelry box; he then looked for the safe. It was in the master bedroom closet. He cut the dry wall around it and broke it loose from the wall. He put it on the bed and pounded a chisel into the seams and pulled it apart. He left the papers and took a small bag of loose diamonds and some cash. He looked around and found the silverware on a shelf in the spare bedroom closet. He put it in his backpack, tied the bag full of jewelry and cash to his belt. He slipped back out the window made sure the piton was anchored securely, then he repelled down the side of the building. He pulled the rope down rolled it up and tossed it into the van. He drove to the Bronx to pick up Ramona. Billy pulled out the cash and gave it Ramona. They checked into a motel on Bruckner Blvd. Billy emptied the loot onto the bed; they looked at each other and raced into making love. Neither of them knew how much they had or where they can sell it but they were caught up in a frenzy knowing they had pulled it off.

Putting It All Together

Bobby wanted C.S.U. to get the pitons that the thief left in the wall to see if there was any way to trace them. He called a few sporting goods stores that sold climbing equipment and found out pitons were sold by the bag full and practically impossible to trace. None of the stores remember anyone making a large purchase recently. The second robbery was similar in every way except the thief climbed up the balcony. But as Bobby always said they are bound to make a mistake, and he will be there when they do.

Living Large

Billy and Ramona were holed up in the motel living off the cash they got from the Goldman's safe and Matt Franklin's apartments. They hadn't tried to fence any of jewelry yet and had no idea how to do it. They spent their days drinking and making love, they would venture out in the evening and bar hop. They had bought some new clothes and actually both of them cleaned up pretty good. Ramona was well known at most of the gin joints she frequented. She hinted around that she has some jewelry to sell and asked some of the locals if they knew anyone interested in buying a few pieces. One of the men said he could put her in touch with a guy from Brooklyn. Two days later they were introduced to Jack "Hi-Jack" Lomanski. They made arrangements to meet him at a bar in Bay Ridge. The next day they drove to Brooklyn and met him at a bar on eighty Sixth Street. They had brought a few of the chains and one Rolex. Jack looked everything over and said $600. They knew they could get more at a Pawn shop but the loot was hot. They took the cash and asked if would be interested in some other items they had. Jack told them he was usually at the bar and to come by any night. They knew not to bring too much at once, they didn't want him to know just how much they had. They would show up every few days with some gold and rings. They sold the silverware for $500 and the remaining Rolex for $600. But they knew the money wouldn't last forever so they began to plan the next heist. They had bought cell phones and scoured the neighborhood for easy marks. They drove uptown and cased some of the multi-million dollar brownstones on the upper West Side. Looking them over Billy said it would be cake walk to get up and in any of them. They just needed them to be unoccupied. They parked on west seventy second street and watched the comings and goings of the residents. One day they spotted a woman leave, they guessed her to be in her fifties, she was well dressed and a Limo picked her up. They followed it to a dance studio in Times Square. Ramona went to work; she wandered inside to see the woman in tights limbering up on a ballet bar. As students began to arrive it was obvious she was the teacher. Now to see if she had classes at night! They spent the day waiting, at noon she went out for lunch, at six a delivery boy entered and dropped off her dinner. The students arrived about seven and she didn't close up until nine thirty. That gave them the window they would need to have Ramona watch her as Billy did his thing.

Slick and Clean

Billy could look at the height he was going to climb and guesstimate just how much rope he will need. In this case he figured seventy five feet should do it. He slipped between the buildings into the back yard. He looked up and picked out a window. Like his name he was up on the wall going up like a cat with his bag full pitons and his backpack. He tried the window and was pleasantly surprised as it opened. Sliding in, he had entered through one of the back bedrooms. He peeked to the living room and it was obvious the house was empty. He looked for the master bedroom. Inside he went right for the jewelry box. He didn't stand there looking it over he just emptied it in his sack. Next he took out the dresser draws and emptied them on the bed. In one there was stack of cash, he stuffed it in the bag. He went downstairs to the living room and looked for anything that might have value. He put a pair of silver candle holders, in the bag, but not much more that he could sell. He was out in less than a half hour. He wound up the rope, and made his way back to the van. He called Ramona and said he was on his way to pick her up all had gone well. He got away slick and clean except for getting a parking ticket. No big deal he would pay it and try to be a bit more careful where he parked next time. When he picked up Ramona she looked in the bag as they drove to the motel. Looking at the loot got her excited she felt the ecstasy surge through her body and couldn't wait to get back to the room for some celebratory sex. For one of the first times in her life she was happy, a man to make love to and the thrill of being a criminal enlivened her.

Ms. Dragos

Vivian Freshetti had Ramona when she was seventeen, her father Carlos "Chino" Dragos was a small time gang member that was gone by the time she was six months old. It was from him that she got her almond shaped eyes and high cheekbones. Her jet black hair and full lips was from her mother. Ramona and Vivian lived with Viv's parents until her mother got married at twenty two. Ramona was five. They lived in Astoria Queens with her step father who worked for the New York Sanitation Dept. She lost her virginity when she was sixteen and her uterus became infected. At seventeen she had have a hysterectomy destined to be barren. As she moved into womanhood she became promiscuous knowing she could never become pregnant. Her life was a spiral; she would meet a new man and was always sure this was the one. Usually once they found out she couldn't have children they just used her for sex. Knowing she can't get pregnant they had no intention of ever marrying her. She fell into a life of menial jobs and an alcohol. She was working in a big box store and was hit by a backing up fork lift. Her back was broken and at twenty eight she was declared totally disabled. She won a civil suit against the store and was awarded $60,000. The lawyers wound up getting their hands on $40,000 of it. The twenty grand lasted her about eight months. Now she lives on Government assistance. With food stamps she can only afford to live in a Section 8 SRO in a less then desirable area of lower Manhattan. At least the room has its own bathroom, but the clientele in the flea bag hotel are less then desirable also. She was regular at the Pike Street Pub where she sat most nights smoking and drinking. She was thirty three and up close you could see the wear and tear on her. She still had a decent body but even that was starting to sag early. Meeting Billy has been probably the most positive thing that has happened to her in the last ten years. These were two lonely souls that found each other in an alcohol fueled fury. Now they were partners in crime, she loved it and Billy was right with the program.

Tough Nut

Bobby was watching for something to identify this guy. He and Angel were trying to figure him out. He seemed to be a shadow if not for ripping the Goldman's safe out of the wall he wasn't leaving the apartments in a mess. At the Franklin burglary until Mr. Franklin went to his jewelry box he had no idea he had been robbed. Angel was perusing the precinct reports when she came across a burglary on west seventy second street that fit the M.O. down to the pitons. The detective assigned to the case was Detective Preston Johnson twentieth precinct robbery homicide. Angel looked up and said "Hey we got another one" Bobby asked her where she told him "west seventy second and you will never guess who is lead" Bobby said "someone we know"? Angel replied "our old plainclothes buddy "Bubba". Bobby smiled but of course his first thought was of Vinny his old partner that was killed in a shootout.

Bobby and angel went right into the conference room and called him on the speaker phone. The voice that answered was so familiar they couldn't miss it. "Hey Bubba its Bobby and Angel you're on the speaker" Bubba was pleasantly surprised to say the least. "Hey guys what you up to". Bobby went on to explain about the break-ins with the pitons, all three said it at the same time "let's compare notes". Bobby and Angel cleared it with Lt Hall to take a ride up to the twentieth to compare notes with the detective in charge of their break in. They may get a lead but most of all they wanted to see Bubba. The big man was still big but now he wore a suit, when he saw Bobby and Angel a smile the size of a Grand piano came across his face. It was like old home week, lots of hugs and fist bumping. Then they had to get down business. Bubba's case read exactly as the Goldman's except this was brownstone on the Upper West Side. In this case the thief had emptied the dresser draws. A sign he is getting bolder taking his time, searching for hidden valuables. The brownstone was owned by renowned ballet teacher Abigail Delarosa. She may not be a household name but in the ballet world she is a superstar. This was sure to get some attention they were trying to keep it out of the press. But as much as the police try, news reporters are working twenty four seven to get a scoop. This one hit the papers and TV News in a New York minute. The way the cops figure it, this guy is good but they are better. He may be thinking he is too smart but the cops know he will slip up and they will be there when he does. They decided to take a ride up to the scene to see if there was anything the original investigation had maybe missed. Bobby had to circle the block three times before he was forced to park in a loading Zone down the block. They all got and walked the block, again nothing jumped out at them. A sector car rolled by and gave them once over, but they recognized Bubba and went on their way. Bobby saw them eyeing his car in the Loading Zone, one of the cops got out and looked inside, saw it was NYPD and they continued their patrol.

Motel Madness

Billy and Ramona got back to the Motel and spread the loot out on the table. Rings, watches, broaches and cash about $1500. They were living off the cash and had fenced a few pieces with Hi-Jack so they could relax. Ramona was ecstatic and felt so alive. Billy was thrilled with her passion for him; they were in a whirl wind world of their own. Not a care in the world, they made love and fell asleep. In the morning Billy went out for some coffee and as he passed a newspaper machine the headline hit him like a ton of brick. "BURGLERIZED" with a picture of the brownstone and his pitons still embedded in the side of the building. He grabbed a paper and some coffee and went back to the room. He woke up Ramona, her eyes were barely open but she woke up fast. She smiled and said "we made the papers"! Now it was really exciting her, the story was mostly about Ms. Delarosa and her status in the ballet world. But it also mentioned the suspicion that this along with the Goldman and Franklin heists were done by the same person. The police claimed to have no leads at this time if anyone saw anything suspicious they should report it to the seventh or twentieth precincts detectives division. Billy laughed and said he should give them a call. He was famous and enjoying it, Ramona sat there slack jaw knowing only her and Billy knew who it was. They had another round of celebratory sex. Then decided to get out of the Motel, but they needed more cash so they drove to Brooklyn with about half of the loot to see if they could find Hi-Jack.

Hot Rocks

When Billy opened the Goldman's safe he had no idea that he was opening a can of worms. The diamonds he stole were going to be the worst thing he could have grabbed. If you steal a ring, a watch or a necklace that is saleable loot. But loose diamonds are another thing all together. The market is small and not many crooks have any idea where to unload them. Hi-Jack was a fence and to think he didn't have Mob connections would be a mistake. The news had said the haul from the Goldman's was about sixty thousand, but Mr. Goldman forgot to mention the loose diamonds that were in the safe, he held back not wanting anyone to know what he had. Yes the diamonds were blood diamonds but also worth more than all the rest of the items Billy lifted. Probably around eighty thousand, retail. If Billy could unload them he could get nearly twenty thousand for them. But he was thinking small, he was thinking he could get five or six thousand. When Billy and Ramona walked into the bar on Eighty Sixth Street they spotted Hi-Jack at his usual booth in the back. He looked up and waved for them to come on back. Billy sat down and Ramona went to the bar. Billy pulled out a small cloth bag and handed to Jack. Jack looked inside and gave out a low whistle. Jack knew right away this was more than just regular swag. He took out his jewelers loop and plucked out one of the diamonds. He then emptied the bag on the table and separated the diamonds from the rings and necklaces. As he sifted through the diamonds, he looked at Billy and said "I'll give you fifteen hundred for the rings and necklaces but the diamonds, the diamonds are out of my league"! Billy didn't understand, "you don't want them"? Jack replied "not saying that but I will need time to arrange for the cash". Billy didn't understand, that he had no idea he was sitting on so much money. Billy gathered up the diamonds and put them in the sack. He pushed the rest of the stuff at Jack and took the fifteen hundred. Jack told him to call him tomorrow, he will let him know when to bring the diamonds and he will have someone here to appraise them to see how much they will give him. Billy and Ramona sat in silence as they drove back to Manhattan. Billy spoke up "I wonder if we should go back tomorrow"? He was thinking Jack was up to something maybe planning to rip him off. Ramona said "they probably won't do anything to us in the bar, but we need to be careful when dealing with snakes, we need protection". She said they should be prepared and she could probably get them a gun. Billy agreed so they drove over to the Pike Street Pub and touched base with Crazy Mike. Mike sold them a snub nose thirty eight, the plan was for Ramona to sit at the bar while Billy did the business if anything went hinky she would start shooting.

Working it

Bobby was looking over the case file wondering why this guy hadn't hit anymore. Maybe the news articles spooked him or he fell off the side of a building into a dumpster and got hauled away with the trash. Either way he still had to work the case. None of the stolen loot had showed up at any pawn shop or at least was being reported. Most pawn shop owners are honest and would report items they perceive to be stolen but some are under the table quasi fences. That is why the cops would always advise victims of burglaries they may never recover their lost goods. This guy was certainly under the radar, no leads coming in, not a whisper it was uncanny. Angel was all for rounding up known burglars and sweating them to see if they could get a line on this guy. Bobby wanted to think outside the box, see if he could figure this guy out. He had hit three times and all in all had about one hundred and twenty thousand in stolen property on the street he would get maybe thirty grand for the lot. That may have been enough for him to stop and lay low for awhile. But Bobby knew that crooks are bold and like being challenged, the old catch me if you can attitude usually got them cuffed in the end. Bobby knew there is no such thing as a perfect crime, he knew either this guy would make a mistake or he already has and he hasn't found it yet. Whatever this guy was up to Bobby wanted to stop him, people work hard for their possessions and for some dipstick to come along and steal it was just plain rude. Clinical Bobby was kicking in; he was going to put it all together it was just a matter of time. He may not be able to recover the property but he was hell bent on stopping this creep from doing his dirt.

Bay Ridge Blast

Billy was hesitant thinking he really didn't want to go back and meet Jack. But Ramona was insistent that she could handle it if there was any trouble. Billy called Jack and they agreed to meet a one o'clock at the bar. Ramona assured him she had would have his back. As they drove to Brooklyn Billy started to relax he was probably making too much of it he had done business with jack before and it all went smooth. He parked the van on third avenue and they walked to the bar mid-block on eighty sixth street. When they walked the place was empty except for the bartender, one guy sipping a beer at the bar and in the back corner table was Jack and another guy. The guy sitting with Jack was a big man looked to be at least six foot but heavy maybe about two fifty. Jack waived Billy back as Ramona sashayed up to a stool at the end of the bar facing them. Jack introduced the big man "Billy this Dominick, he's my diamond guy". Billy shook his hand and took out the little bag. He laid it on the table as the big guy took out a jewelers loop. He fished around in the bag and took out a diamond. Putting the loop to his eye he studied the stone. Unbeknownst to Billy this guy couldn't tell a diamond from a clam shell. He put the diamond back in the bag, looked at Jack then back at Billy and said "I give you nothing", Billy was confused but the big guy took the bag and clasped it in his hand. Then he said "take a hike pal these are mine now you get to get out of here alive". At that point the guy at the bar started to move towards them. The bartender stood there watching Ramona, she looked at him and he said "don't do anything stupid and grabbed her left wrist pinning it to the bar. She raised her right hand with the gun and shot him in the forehead, his legs collapsed and he dropped. She stood up a shot the guy that was walking towards them in the back of the head. Jack and Dom were trying to get up; she ran up and shot both of them. Billy grabbed the bag of diamonds and they hurried for the door. "Don't run, don't run" Billy said. He then said "wait". He went back and emptied Jacks pocket, he had about fifteen hundred dollars. They strolled out of the bar and got the van. They drove back to Manhattan in and eerie silence.

Things Get Hairy

The headline read MOB RUBOUT IN BROOKLYN. Billy was reading the paper finding out just who Ramona had killed. The story indentified the four men as Mafia types that were probably killed by a rival gang. The dead men were indentified and Dominick "Fat Dom" Ruggerio a lieutenant with the Calabrese crime family, Jack "Hi-Jack" Lomanski a long time and well known Calabrese family associate, Vincent "Skinny Vinny" Sarafino described another mob associate and Tommy Maldo the bartender at the eighty sixth street pub. Billy was pissed that it all had gone south, did they just expect him to be ripped off and take it. Seems these diamonds may be more of a hassle then they are worth or they are worth a lot more then he thinks they are. Billy wanted to sell them fast and get out of town. Right now he needed a new fence. He hoped the guy that introduced them to Jack didn't put it together that it was him and Ramona that did the killing. He told Ramona they needed to put the word out they had some merchandise to sell. They had about four thousand dollars left including the money he stole from Jack's pocket. That wouldn't last forever; the motel room was costing them three hundred a week. Either he had to do another burglary or sell the diamonds. He thought it is less stressful to climb up the side of a building then deal with scoundrels and scum that was surrounding them. As much as Billy wanted to show off his climbing skills he found the Brownstone to be the easiest and fastest to climb. They set out to his their next victim.

The cops had no reason to connect the recent high end burglaries in Manhattan to the murders in Brooklyn. They were investigating it as a hit on Fat Dom and the rest were collateral damage. Cops investigate from inside out they started with the Calabrese gang. That is where they picked up a tid-bit from a Confidential Informant. He said Fat Dom was there to look at some diamonds; Jack looked at them and figured they were worth at least one hundred thousand. The snitch said it was going to be rip from the get go. Jack told him the guy selling them is a hillbilly loser; they could probably scare him to death and just take them. They were most likely going to kill him, looks like he got the drop on them. That made the cops working the murder think. Where was this loot coming from? Was there any high end burglaries involving diamonds lately? They put out a notice to see if any precinct had any high end thefts involving diamonds.

Bobby read the notice and wondered, he had this climber, he did rob a diamond merchant, but Mr. Goldman didn't report any loss of diamonds. Bobby didn't like it, it was starting to stink. If it was Goldman's diamonds why hadn't he reported it? Bobby went to his favorite place to learn, the internet, he Googled diamonds just to see what popped up. That is where he found an interesting statement "In some of the more politically unstable central African and west African countries, revolutionary groups have taken control of diamond mines using proceeds from diamond sales to finance their operations. Diamonds sold through this process are known as conflict diamonds or blood diamonds". Smuggled conflict or blood diamonds are cheaper, but if they get here to the U.S the profit margins are amazing. Seventy five thousand worth can fetch two and half times as much if they are sold here. Maybe Goldman is willing to take the loss rather than having his reputation smeared by having and selling these blood diamonds. Bobby let the detective working the bar killings know that he had a few high end burglaries he was working but no diamonds were reported stolen. But he did let him in on his suspicions about Goldman. Bobby decided to go back and interview Mr. Goldman, this time he would take not only Angel but would ask if Bubba would like to ride along. Just Bubba being in the room might scare the snot out him and make him give it up. If they hinted around to this now being a murder investigation Goldman may come clean. As they were sure the burglary uptown was connected to their two, the lieutenant was on board with Bubba riding along. When the three of them got in the car together, it was like the old days when they rode together in Brooklyn. They drove uptown to the diamond district and found the Goldman's at work. Bobby said he had some questions as something came up in an investigation. He asked Mr. Goldman if he had heard about any large diamond thefts. Goldman was kind of taken back he asked "why would I know anything about stolen diamonds"? Bobby went on to tell him there may be some diamonds that may have been the cause of a homicide. But with no reported thefts he just wondered if he had heard of anything within his circle. Bubba interjected, "we're just trying to clear this up, and people are dead". Goldman replied "clear what up"? "I haven't heard anything about blood diamonds"! Bobby caught him, "who said anything about blood diamonds"? At that point Bobby suggested Mr. Goldman close for the day and him and his wife take a ride with them over to the station. Poor Hy and Ida squished in the back seat with Bubba, they looked small and pathetic. The first thing they did was separate them. Hy was taken to interrogation and Ida was escorted to the conference room. It was decided Bobby and Bubba would conduct the interrogation. As soon as they walked in the room Hy asked to call his lawyer. He would cooperate but not without his attorney. When his lawyer got there he laid it all out. His brother ships the diamonds from Israel, he gets them from Africa. They may or may not be blood diamonds but Mr. Goldman never lets too many out in market at one time. He keeps them in his home safe; at least where he thought they would be safe. If he had claimed them on his insurance that may have sent up a red flag as to why they would be in the home safe and not in the business vault. If they found out they were blood diamonds he was not admitting that they were, it could ruin his reputation in the industry. That is all Bobby really wanted to know, he had just connected a quadruple murder in Brooklyn to burglaries in Manhattan. Mr. Goldman never admitted there were any diamonds stolen from his apartment, but it's a sure thing something happened in that bar and diamonds were at the center of it all.

A Dime A Dozen

Ramona and Billy needed a new fence; they didn't want to ask the guy that hooked them up with Hi-Jack. Ramona knew a slew of unsavory characters, one of them gave them a line on a guy that works out of his van. He is usually parked on the East Side under the FDR Drive. He was like a rolling flea market; they approached him with a large paper bag that held a pair of silver candle holders and array of gold chains and rings. He took the goods inside the van and offered them eight hundred dollars. They took it, just wanting the get as much cash as possible. Billy was beginning to think the diamonds were cursed. He wondered if Goldman would want to buy them back, no questions asked. It would be tricky but sweet face Ramona can probably broker the deal, the exchange is where it can go wrong so they needed a plan. They would buy an untraceable burner cell phone. Ramona would go into the west forty seventh street diamond mall and leave a note on the Goldman's kiosk. They would watch them to make sure they didn't call the cops. If they take the deal they would set up a meet. If he calls in the cops or goes to the police station they would back out. Otherwise set up a meeting, have Ramona deliver the goods and collect the money all the time being watched by Billy.

The Goldman's found the envelope on the kiosk glass case. It read "Have your diamonds, buy back for $10,000 no questions asked" call 212-555-3781 no cops. Ramona watched them read the note; neither of them went for the phone. They were looking over the note and seemed to be talking it over. Then Hy picked up his cell and dialed the number. Billy answered and said he will call him back with instructions, he also advised him he was being watched so no cops.

Billy waited for about four hours before he called Hy back. He asked him if he had the money. He proceeded to tell him how it will go. He was go to Albert Capsauto Park at Varick and Laight streets. Enter the park there are lines of benches on both sides. He will see a woman wearing all black on a bench on the left. He is to sit at the bench directly across from her. If it is all clear and no cops she will bring him a bag. He can verify the contents. If he is satisfied, he will give her the money he is to sit there until she leaves the park. Billy told him in no uncertain terms is she gets arrested he will be watching and knows he where he lives. Goldman just wanted the stones back and ten grand was a small price to pay to insure he maintained his reputation in the business. The meeting was set up for Thursday mid-morning, Billy and Ramona got there about an hour early. Billy parked the van with a clear view of the park and Ramona as she sat there. Goldman showed up at ten, he did exactly as Billy had told him to. Ramona looked around and walked up to him. She dropped the small cloth bag in his hand. He pulled out his jewelers loop and plucked a random diamond from the bag. After he appraised it he asked "are they all here"? Ramona just said "yes". He reached into his briefcase and handed her an envelope. She put in her purse. He asked if she was going to count it. She said "we know where you live". Ramona turned and walked out of the park around the corner and jumped into the van. They drove away slow and watched for anyone tailing them. Making sure it was clear, they had the money and got rid of the diamonds. They headed for the motel and decided not to leave town just change motels. They were flush with cash, and can lay low for a while.

Back to Square One

Bobby wanted to bust this guy for the burglaries and then sweat him about the murders. With no leads coming in he decided to back to square one. The old adage of "the cops can make a thousand mistakes but a crook can only make on" came to mind. What will be this guy's mistake or did he already make it and it just hasn't been found yet. Bobby started to go back over the investigation from the beginning. The M.O.'s were the same nothing stood out. How could a guy get away slick and clean without leaving a trace? Bobby thought to himself "well Salter it's time to think outside the box". As he sat back he chuckled about the sector car at the Delarosa scene that eyed his car in the Loading Zone. That's when it hit him! Where did this guy park? He immediately fired off a request for copies of all parking tickets that were given out the night of the crime in around the Brownstone. His eyes went wide when he saw one for a van with Kentucky plates. He ran the plate it came back registered to William Davis Elkay, Maysville, KY. He ran him through B.C.I. and found four tickets in Maysville for trespassing, otherwise no criminal record. Bobby looked at Maysville on the map, a small town on the Ohio River. Why not see if the local cops know him. Usually small towns everyone knows everyone. Bobby called and spoke to the Chief of Police Andy Carter. He knew our guy well, he had been busted a few time for trespassing. Seems Billy as he called him liked to climb up the side of the taller buildings in town, he was more of a nuisance than anything. Bobby knew at that moment he had his guy, now to locate him. He put out an ABP for the van, "wanted for suspicion of burglary and murder may be armed a dangerous". Bobby filled in the Lt, Angel and Bubba. Patrol was searching for the van; the B.O.L.O for any vans with Kentucky plates was being looked for. It didn't take long, when a sector car from the Forty Third in the Bronx to spot the van in a Motel Parking lot. Bobby, Angel and Bubba called the Fugitive Apprehension Team and they converged on the Motel.

Busted

When they crashed in the door, it caught Billy and Ramona lying naked on the bed. No time to react they were both face down and being cuffed before they could speak. Stood up and covered with blankets, Bobby had one question. Where's the gun? Ramona got tough and told him to piss off, Billy knew the jig was up he said under the pillow. Bobby lifted the pillow then lifted up the snub nose .38 with a latex glove. If it matched the bullets from the Brooklyn killing he would know they had the culprits. Under the bed was a small box with some cash and jewelry in it, most likely belonging to one or more of the victims.

Billy and Ramona were booked for the gun and the hot merchandise; they would wait for ballistic testing on the gun to see if it matched the bullets taken from the four dead guys in Brooklyn. When the results came back the charges were amended to include four counts of murder. Hot damn there were high fives all around the squad room. The papers named him "Billy the Goat" and hoped he never got his hands on any rope in prison or he would be over the wall in a New York minute. The charges were reduced by the D.A. based on Billy confessing to three counts of burglary and four counts of manslaughter. He received four life sentences plus 20 years. Ramona pleaded not guilty and was found guilty of four counts of murder; she was sentenced to life without parole. The Goldman's were exposed to be dealing in blood diamonds; they closed their Kiosk and moved to Israel. Bobby, Angel and Bubba were given the EPD (Excellent Police Duty) awards. Bobby and Angel went back to trying to solve their ongoing investigation of a possible assassination attempt aimed at a visiting dignitary from Senegal.

Find more about this author here at

<http://www.thinkbobby.com/>

### The Road to London --review

By **Martin Fox**

The love story between Art and The Road to London by Adriano Bulla starts even before the novel states its first mysterious words, 'Yes, I will, Yes. I will save the world, the universe and you.' In fact, soon after the dedication to Stephane Vasseur, the reader is presented not with words, but with The Awakening of Conscience, by W. H. Hunt: an appropriate choice for a novel which explores the beauty, but also the pain of consciousness with a unique and idiosyncratic attention to the language of Art.

Following the esoteric words that echo the end of James Joyce's Ulysses, which appear to me to be an invocation to the muse in reverse, The Road to London presents us with a frame, a very short chapter, 'London at Last', which will be repeated at the end of the story, though, and this is another original point in this book, not the end of the novel, with a slight variation, in the chapter 'London, London', where the meaning of the journey of the unnamed protagonist, called by most readers as simply the Boy, is partially explained.

The first real chapter, 'Sangre y Lagrimas' starts with a poem, like all Chapters in this short novel, yet while most of the poems are quotations, this one is an original one by the author, who has already made his name as a serious poet with the collection Ybo' and Other Lies:

I thought I saw you

My Dear

Etched against the Moon

Like a swan

Rising to meet his destiny.

I was wrong.

This short, almost impressionist poem is in fact the first of a series of surreal letters written to the Boy's great love, called My Dear: a series of mental addresses to this mysterious character set in a gay night club in London, and coming from the future, or maybe from the subconscious of our Boy. Yet, this novel also sparks the love affair between words and Art which will continue in a journey which will become a verbal art gallery throughout the novel: the word 'etched' seems to be chosen quite clearly to reflects not only the light and almost ethereal effect produced by this method, but its process as well: the acid used becomes the pain of the Boy in a journey of self-discovery where his own image starts appearing slowly though the corrosion of an impersonal dimension, namely conformity as imposed by prejudice.

The attention to colours in The Road to London becomes explicit in this very first Chapter, when we read that when his primary school friend, Darren, shows the boy his penis, he recalls, 'I remember it in black and white, as if the colours had switched off, just for that very second.' (Page 3) The theme of the lack of colours in the early life of the boy becomes more and more prominent in this chapter; for example, when the Boy tries to imagine what is written in Rachel's secret diary, following his falling in love with her, in order to find out whether she reciprocates his feelings, in a passage where the Boy's imagination becomes so strong that it replaces reality, we read, 'I can see it, I can see the page, yes, closer, closer... it's blank!' (Page 13) This attempt to read telepathically what Rachael had written in her diary is then preceded by a dream, signalled, as happens every time the world of the imagination replaces the real one in the novel, with a change from the past into the present tense, where the Boy wakes up in a dream, to find himself in a house 'where the walls are white,' and where he will see the skeletons of his parents in the shower (page 11). This colourless dream is the first of a series of dreams which will make up a substantial part of the novel, appearing regularly, and the fact that the Boy metaphorically murders his parents in his sleep is a reflection of his subconscious journey towards taking ownership of his own life, each dream having specific colours which he seems to be adding to the now blank canvas that is his personality: this novel is as much about painting oneself as it is about fighting against a society where colours, here the colours of the rainbow, are washed down through the corrosive power of prejudice and homophobia. In this respect, The Road to London follows in the footsteps of Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse, but while Lily Briscoe will be seen putting the final touches to her painting at the end of the Modernist novel, the Boy will transform himself into light itself, with all the colours and hues of the universe and the rainbow, in the last chapter (or, as it is called, 'appendix') of this incredibly unusual novel, 'The Breath of Light', pushing the writing into a metaphysical dimension where only music and colours, or waves (a recurrent symbol) make sense, into the world of Quantum Physics, but seen through the eye and soul of an artist. This first chapter closes with a letter where the childhood game of hide and seek becomes a psychological game set in the London club, where the Boy states My Dear was 'blank' and, 'I wasn't seeking you, and you weren't seeking me. When the club closed, I looked around for the first time: you had gone.' (Page 16) The fleeting image of the swan, pale, etched against the moon, appears to vanish at the end of the chapter: a metaphor of the ephemeral nature of life and human experience sustained for the whole chapter and beyond, where the swan will reappear, later in the novel, this time, more tangible, more real, yet still imaginary.

Colours are added to this blank canvas chapter by chapter, like the brush strokes of an artist painting a picture of the universe while creating a self-portrait, which is possibly the why the intriguing cover art work, anonymous, through a sky-scape where clouds, galaxies and stars are seen behind and through a face not unlike that of the author, with the same eye colour as the Boy, appearing like a transparent and ethereal veil. Every chapter in the book has a precise palette, usually of two colours, with the exception of the only Chapter that does not contain two words in its title, 'Ashes', also the shortest in this story, where colours suddenly seem to disappear, and the last two chapters, where light and colours explode. So, 'Infinite Fire' is dominated by red and green, which come present two sides of the protagonist's contradictory personality, and will become the colours of two armies fighting a battle the Boy does not want to win, thinking, ' Do I want to win? Do I want to defeat him? I know I have to... but do I want to? It's hard to fight when you don't know who your enemy is,' (page 24), shifting the focus from will to identity, which takes place in a fairy tale world, maybe signifying the disintegration of childhood dreams and which is introduced by distant echoes of the night before Agincourt in Shakespeare's Henry V. The two colours here come to symbolise not only the Boy and his cousin, Martin, with whom he is, unconsciously, exploring his sexuality, but the two sides of his own personality, the masculine, dominant one in red, and his inclusive, submissive and feminine side in green.

We find this symbolic use of colours throughout the novel, as stated, and by degrees we understand that colours take on new meanings as the story progresses: red becomes more and more aggressive, even sexually aggressive, green comes to be identified with the Boy himself, as we understand he has eyes of that colour, and with a character who is the Boy's dopplerganger, the only character who has a name and surname, whose eyes are also green, and who will appear at the end of the novel, or, as the novel herself (yes, this novel refers to itself as a female) states, in an alternative life of the story that takes place in London, after, or besides, the suggested ending of the narrative itself, and who will be presented to us with a clear reference, as the author himself makes clear in an interview in PubSmart, to the first Christian Martyr, Saint Sebastian, and whose name is, in fact, Seb White and who appears to us through the canonical iconography we find in many paintings, as being pierced by arrows, transformed into the blades of homophobic bullying in the form of paper pellet flicked in scorn against a clearly effeminate and skinny boy during lessons, which trigger a digressive metaphor turned simile Virgil would be proud of to express the pain inflicted by prejudice:

The weight of their stares on my nape, the sharp scorns of spittle and scorn, hailing on me like squadrons of wasps, strong in their number, whizzed through the air, freezing their prey with cobwebs of steel and slicing its flesh to leave the blades of their arrows to poison the wound. (Page 134)

If The Road to London resembles the painting of a portrait in its composition, what is even more impressive is its ability to translate the language of art into that of literature, rendering a series of paintings, and paying homage to a range of movements and artists on its pages, which become almost like an art gallery without pictures, or maybe it would be more accurate to say where paintings are drawn in words. Thus, on page 34, we find Adriano Bulla 'forging' Picasso for the written word, with a depiction of sex which reminds the reader of Guernica, 'Legs, arms and lips. Stretched, entwined, expectant.' While Picasso broke the fabric of human perception by separating elements of the pictorial language to be then displayed with apparently inconsistency on the canvas, Adriano Bulla dissects the grammar of the English language, presenting us with nouns in the first sentence and adjectives in the second and then inserting movement through adding verbs gradually, building the rhythm of this encounter, which does not seem to exist in the world we commonly regard as real, to the momentous, and ejaculatory finale (page 37):

Then quicker and quicker they entwine, melt, open and close, give, receive, abandon thought. Spasms hit them, faster and faster, more, more legs, and lips and arms, and faster and faster and deeper and higher and deeper and deeper and... a black hole of peace.

Here sexual intercourse is presented in a language that rejects conventional grammar, in the same way as sex rejects rational exploration. The reference to Guernica reinforces the symbolism of red and green introduced early in the novel: love and sex acquire the same characteristics of war, as suggested on page 24 by presenting a time paradox: 'Before a war, walls still standing, boy soldiers waiting to meet their nemesis.' The adolescent conflict with his /her sexuality is at the heart of the war, but in The Road to London, the identification with the enemy of the Boy and his refusal to accept himself also turn the war imagery into an exploration of the source of domination and submission in his sexuality, which turns fetishist, not only gay, as a result of the way he struggles to make sense of a world where his psychological palette is not accepted, or even recognised, by society.

Not much later in the narrative, we find the mystical, Romantic vision of an organicist universe which speaks for the soul of the protagonist through a vortex of light and darkness that reminds us of the mature Turner, where, 'Lighting broke the sky, light penetrating darkness. Aeons of cries howled in the raging night...' (page 50) which, compared with the homage to the Cubist Master, presents us with a the 'still process' the British painter is so famous for: while the rhythm slows down, the reader is invited to dwell on the cosmic fight between light and darkness not as if it were the event of a split second, but as if it were stuck in time, as if lightning lasted for aeons, soon reinforced by sentences that avoid to engage with any time-frame, by just using participles as main verbs: 'Thunder, power, shaking the world, smashing the waves, cracking the land.' (page 50)

In the chapter 'The Garden and the Key', dominated by the colours green and blue, here representing the Boy and his lover, as well as the feminine and masculine sides of the human nature, and opening with a quotation from John Milton's Paradise Lost, intriguingly, from the lines in Book IV where the Seventeenth Century poem suggests Adam and Eve had sexual intercourse in the Garden of Eden, it is through a song by Italian singer songwriter Claudio Baglioni, 'I Giardini di Marzo', which captures a heroin user incapable of communicating his addiction and internal turmoil to his friend, that the novel moves into the metaphysical once more, this time, presenting the reader with the appearance of light in an Impressionist landscape of the soul: 'Immense skies and immense prairies, where my melancholy runs sweet. Time has stopped. All around me is light and air,' (Pages 76-77) The attention to the creative power of light presents the reader with the very heart of the theory of Impressionism, complete with the very concept that in order to perceive it, one should be able to see it in an extra-temporary dimension. This is a turning point in the novel, as the Boy suddenly understands what the Kabbalah teaches, and states, 'I stand up: I am light.' (Page 77) The fact that the word light happens to be in the exact centre of the novel tells us that it is the cornerstone of a Kabbalistic / Impressionist literary and architectural work, which I believe we should leave for better informed scholars to investigate. However, references to esoteric studies are scattered throughout the novel, and when the Boy, in his future of parallel epistolary dimension collapses through an overdose of ketamine, his mind goes through a series of fast transformation rendered in the language of Italian Futurism, thus it is through the style of Marinetti that swift action, presented through verbs, replaces substance: 'I switch. I change. I create things. I change. I switch. Noting else.' (Pages 63-64) This experience, however, also turns The Bible on its head, while going to the heart of the creative and artistic process itself, as it ends with the words, 'I am the word.'

The need for light to give a meaning to life is epitomised by the monochrome city of Milan, which one should not read as a real place, but as the construct of a society which refuses to accept people's own different and divergent natures, and which is renamed in The Road to London 'the grey city' or 'the grey metropolis', grey, of course representing a limitation in the palette of emotions, as we read that 'The streets of Milan have no light at night. Long avenues with dying grey plane trees,' and 'The grey streets of Milan stretch for miles and lead nowhere, street follows street, grey leads to more grey...' as we read in the chapter 'Concrete and Grass', aptly introduced by the writing on the gates of Hell in Dante's Divine Comedy: 'Through me we go into the sorrowful city.' (Page 94) The apocalyptic painting presented here is one where the soul has died, the inhabitants are called 'grey souls', in a similar state of emotional paralysis to James Joyce's Dubliners. It is in a park in the 'grey city' that this chapter narrates the Boy's first encounter with sex, symbolically taking place with another character with no name, and yes, in the park, but more precisely, in a toilet inside the park. This experience is described without colour, it is mere sex without feeling, and is in stark contrast with the colours of love and passion we encounter in the Boy's erotic dreams.

Peace will come to the Boy's soul just before he leaves for London, through a kiss that shows his friends, the grey city, his parents and the world that he has finally come to terms with his homosexuality, and which is presented through the stillness of a Whistler painting and a kiss, where land and sky finally become one, 'Where the land meets the sky, where the wind breathes warmer, closer to the stars...' (page 117) expressed through the apparent oxymoron 'the light of the night fell down on us, sky meeting land, light meeting darkness.' (Page 117) Here, the whole world looks still, painted through a fountain where every drop of water is like a star set against a still sky, each with its light, and the Boy seems finally capable of seeing the fairy-tale element of his dreamy life, where 'boys and girls joined in the dance of light, like in an enchanted summer play,' (page 116) 'like fairies in the forest, eyes glittering like drops in the moonlight, droplets watching like curious sprites in the night,' (page 116) and where the Boy and his lover, named after an archangel, Michael, the very General of God's army who escorts Adam and Eve out of Eden, 'stepped forward, hand in hand, the lead actors of a shimmering play.' (Page 116) This Whistler depicts Milton's last scene in Paradise Lost, but the vision is reversed: instead of Adam and Eve contemplating the aeons of pain and suffering in ahead for the whole of mankind, here the Boy and Michael have a vision of a world of glimmering lights and peace.

The art gallery presented in The Road to London, however, moves seamlessly along the different languages of the great Masters, with a consistency of style which appears almost miraculous, and which owes its mellow, fluid continuity to the fact that all the novel is seen through the eyes of a unifying pictorial language, that of Salvador Dali. Surrealism is in fact what holds the structure and style of this novel / painting together, not as bolts and nuts, but as a veil of perception through which the reader is invited to see the whole of creation from a distorted, different lens, and which allows the narrative to move seamlessly from realism into pure imagination, where clocks bend and warp through the power of the imagination, where colours become stronger, where light rules over time. The Road to London hangs in the firmament suspended between Art and Literature, crossing not only genres within the literary world, but stretching out to visual arts and music; it is not a surprise that it has been describes as 'an impressive work of Art.'

Find more information on Adriano Bulla

Here at

<http://litartmag.com/1110>

Ink from the Heart on Authors...

A true-life Erotic Memoir

Interview with Emma Styles

With Deuce Wylde

I have the pleasure of hosting author, Emma Styles. A new and inspiring Erotic Memoir of a married woman's sexual journey from housewife to fully liberated muse and plaything. First Tango in Paris is a true and accurate account explicitly documents many of the outrageous sexual situations she participated in and experienced on her journey to complete sexual fulfilment. Exploring her own predatory sexual instincts, both solo and accompanied by her husband in many and varied intimate liaisons in the many Clubs Privee's of Paris and beyond.

Hi Emma thanks for doing this interview.

Liphar: Can you give us a little about your background?

ES: I am a married mother of two. I currently live between Kew, West London and Southern Spain. I have just completed my first book, which is a true-life account of my sexual experiences and adventures since stumbling into the very elegant but incredibly decadent and hedonistic Parisian swinging scene.

From that very first eye-opening evening, I just knew Paris was going to be an inspirational turning point in my life. Until that moment I was a young stay at home Mum to two living a very suburban life in West London, coping with all the normal day to day stresses and strains of running a home and raising a small family. Of course, this proved exciting and fulfilling in itself.

However, that initial weekend opened my eyes to reveal something so different and so sexually gratifying, that after several late evening deliberations over a glass of wine with my husband, we both agreed entirely that it was something that we both wanted to explore further. I found that having my husband's full approval, coupled with his desire to give me free rein to indulge and to fulfil even my wildest fantasies was exceptionally liberating and empowering.

Liphar: What's the book about?

ES: The book documents intimately and often graphically many of the more salacious and debauched encounters over a ten-year period, whilst also portraying how I juggled the more predictable side of family/working life with my quest for even greater sexual escapades.

After a period of throwing ourselves, or more to the point throwing myself head first into the elegant, yet, completely riotous sexual freedom that Paris, it's clubs and people had to offer, whether indulging as a couple, or flying solo as a single woman, I began to structure both the family side of things with my new found hunger for wild and on many occasions anonymous erotic encounters.

I had discovered almost endless opportunities to turn any situation into a full-blown sexual adventure, from a brief and teasing flash in a bar to a willing participant amongst a group of men in the afternoon clubs of Paris, which caters to the physical needs of a certain kind of confident and self-assured woman.

I very quickly became aware that the French in particular have a completely different outlook to most other cultures in the way they behave and express themselves sexually. In the vast majority of French society circles and in the many thriving chic and sophisticated Parisian "Clubs Privées" being a liberated woman who enthusiastically pursued and achieved her sexual desires is regarded with great respect and the utmost admiration.

The book takes you on a roller-coaster ride of sex-filled exploits. A riveting and captivating sexually explicit read!

Liphar: What was your main reason for writing the book?

ES: My main reason to write "First Tango In Paris" was: as 'erotic fiction' has recently become a hugely popular genre, I felt that it was all well and good reading about fictional characters in fictional situations. However, I thought that from my point of view it would be much more inspiring and liberating to read a wholly factual account from a person who has experienced it all in reality, in genuine and existing clubs and locations. Obviously, as with all things in life there are the disreputable places that are to be avoided. However, in my book I document many of the finer establishments where one can go to turn fantasy into reality in the blink of an eye (the majority of which are just a click away on the internet). Go explore your inner desires you'll be surprised at just how elated and revitalized you'll feel. I strongly recommend you get the man or men in your life to have a sneaky read, their reaction may just surprise you!

Liphar: What turn of events started this escapade?

ES: As a normal English housewife and mother, who in 1991 went on a last minute weekend break to Paris with my husband. There by chance, I discovered a completely different level of sexual gratification in the elegant Parisian swingers clubs, one that I pursued with vigour over the following years. This true and accurate account explicitly documents many of the outrageous sexual situations I participated in and experienced on my journey to complete sexual fulfillment.

From teaching my French lovers' 18 year old son the art of lovemaking through to complete abandonment at the hands of a team of French fire fighters and being the muse to an elderly retired, distinguished French Diplomat, who arranges many of my more scandalous sexual scenarios for me to act out. All the time, juggling family life in West London with my decadent sexual life in France and beyond.

Simply having the knowledge that as well as the hugely rewarding family life at home, there was also a completely self-indulgent side of life, one that was there to be grasped with both hands and relished. I've found this in itself to be a huge thrill, both mentally and physically. It has certainly added a very positive "other" dimension to daily life.

Liphar: What effect did this have on your marriage?

ES: I soon discovered that this sexual freedom that we had allowed each other to explore has simply strengthened our marriage. The level of trust that was already in place has only been enhanced further by the openness in which we approach and discuss all situations together, whether sexual or life in general. Both my husband and myself find that the wide and diverse range of people who indulge in this hedonistic style of sexual gratification are some of the most interesting and intellectually inspiring people we've encountered. In fact, many of our close friends followed in our footsteps and all say what a positive and emboldening experience it has been for them.

Liphar: Many women feel uncertain about expressing their sexual fantasies, yet your husband seems incredibly supportive and encouraging, how important has this been for you personally and your relationship?

ES: As explained in the book, our marriage was enhanced greatly by our enjoying fully the weekends away; in the early days, it was a great talking point between us especially in the bedroom where, without embarrassment or fear of what either would think, we could relive moments we'd enjoyed, or moments we'd like to enjoy in the future. I suppose we looked upon it as a kind of hobby, people would go on Gastronomic weekends, Cultural weekends (we did many of those also) we just went on slightly more gratifying weekends.

Even now due to what we experienced in the early days enables us to do be in situations without having the slightest worry about what or who the other is talking to.

A great deal of the thrill of sex is not just the act itself, a huge part is psychological and in the mind, the anticipation, the build-up, the preparation, the minute details. It's about riding the wave of an extended and continual orgasm. There are many examples of this in the book and one particular theme running throughout is today's woman and Gspot orgasms.

The jealousy angle was never an issue, I feel this is because we had married so young and had grown up and grown into the marriage together and there was never really a his or her agenda, we simply did things together as one unit. Additionally, there was the fact that I enjoyed seeing other attractive women sexually attracted to Paul, safe in the knowledge that he was mine. It was a boost to both our ego's, that after seven years of marriage we were both still attracted to and desired by others and in the elegant club environment of Paris, it was the perfect situation to let go of any inhibitions and to act out your wildest fantasies and fulfil any desires you might wish at the time. It was all available and possible.

Also the fact that it was on Foreign soil gave us a sense of bravado as the chance of bumping into anyone you may have had an inappropriate moment with on the Monday morning back in Waitrose was minute to say the least. In addition, we adored the elegance in which the Parisians did things; it all had a little "je ne sais quoi." They seem to have a different attitude to Britain. That is, if a French Politician is caught with his mistress nobody cares, they shrug with the attitude "lucky him." In the UK, he'd be sacked and vilified and there would be calls for his chemical castration.

Liphar: Can you recall your first sexual fantasy?

ES: My initial sexual fantasy that I can recall was when I was seventeen or eighteen and had been on holiday with a small group of friends to Saint Tropez in the South of France and we were staying in a villa owned by one of the girl's parents. Her father was French and very distinguished in a laid-back kind of way and I developed a secret crush on him during our stay. I used to fantasize being alone with him and making love to him by the pool whilst the others were out shopping. Sadly, it never happened.

Liphar: What was you first sexually fulfilled fantasy?

ES: The first full-blown fantasy I actually had the courage to fulfil was pretty tame compared to what I write about in the book. I was just nineteen and had met an older man from Australia who was working as a masseur for a very well known 5 star Hotel in Central London as manager of their Spa. He'd given me his business card and told me to call if I ever wanted a massage. I left it a week and plucked up the courage and called. He invited me to his apartment in Earls Court where after a few glasses of wine he proceeded to massage and make love to me all at the same time; it was a wild and intense afternoon.

Liphar: What's the most toe-curling, experience you've ever had?

ES: Well there have been many, however, at the top of my all-time favourite debauched experiences was the first time I was entertained by a team of Parisian Firefighters who's HQ was on the River Seine. It took place in their locker/changing area. I was their plaything for an hour, below is a brief extract from the book outlining the experience.

The return journey to the station house was exhilarating to say the least as the Captain put the power down and we raced along at high speed with siren blaring and lights flashing, all for my benefit. It was a very privileged position to be in and I was loving every moment. Also, the second glass of champagne had made my exhilaration levels hit the roof. The feeling of sitting there, just wearing a fur coat, boots and absolutely nothing else was sublimely erotic and enhanced my already high state of arousal.

They guided me along a corridor, which had several doors leading off it, which, I could only assume was offices, until we passed a stone staircase leading upwards and then two steps later, a similar staircase leading down. I was instructed to go down the steps and in front of me along a corridor there was a large door, I was to remove my coat and place it on the hanger provided, then I was to simply knock and wait to be let in.

Liphar: Do you have any funny experiences you'd like to share?

ES: Yes, there is one stand out moment that really turned into a farcical situation. This occurred shortly after my thirty-fifth birthday. We'd been celebrating with friends at a Club in Central London and I got chatting to a very flirtatious and gorgeous looking guy in his mid-twenties who invited me round to his apartment for an afternoon of as he put it, "the best sex I'd ever have." He'd teased me about the size of his manhood throughout, but sadly, not only was it very understated in size, it was also broken and no amount of coaxing could breathe any life into it.

Liphar: You've written extensively about your sexual experiences in the book, how do you feel sharing these intimate details with the masses?

ES: I am just thrilled that after spending the best part of 5 months going through old diaries and the actual writing of it that it captured many peoples imagination and had the massive success it has. I never in my wildest dreams thought it would become what it has. Number 1 on the Amazon Erotic Paid Chart and Top 15 on the General Paid Sales Chart, was astounding to put it mildly.

Liphar: Have you had any feedback (positive or negative) about your book?

ES: Heavens yes, the reviews have been incredible, a bit like marmite, masses of 5 star and also a lot of 1 star a real love it or hate it kind of thing, but when you look at the reviews of 50 Shades the pattern is identical.

I never set out to write a work of scholastic English literature with perfect grammar/spelling or syntax. It is what it is; my sexual memoir written as it happened nothing added for effect. Purely an erotic factual book, with no fictional characters, places or events. Nevertheless, everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion; you've got to take the rough with the smooth, even though it's obvious that some of the bad reviews the person never actually read the book. Sadly in our internet age it does seem to bring out the "Mr and Mrs Angry" in a small minority of people. In addition, I've had dozens of emails from couples and singles alike who love the book and have used it as a bit of a guide/instruction manual of places to experience, and fulfil their personal fantasies.

Liphar: Any advice for women planning to embark on fulfilling their fantasies?

ES: Yes, read the book and book a trip to Paris, but seriously take from the book what you will and as I point out at the beginning of the book everything is a click away on Google, just do some research on what you personally want to achieve.

I did recently meet a single lady who had read the book and felt confident enough to celebrate her 60th Birthday in a Club in Paris where many enthusiastic younger men entertained her during the evening. She expressed her feeling of empowerment and that her outlook on life took a massive turn for the better.

Liphar: Emma, I'd love to focus on the power of female sexuality and the freedom of expressing yourself in this interview. Can you give me a quote to this effect?

ES: I can give you two 

1. A SLUT IS A WOMAN WITH THE MORALS OF A MAN.

2. A GIRL SHOULD BE TWO THINGS, CLASSY AND FABULOUS....Coco Chanel

On a final note, everyone is aware of the term "the Swinging Sixties" my book just brings everything up to date and shows that "the Swinging Nineties/Naughties" were and are just as decadent, but with a whole lot more style.

Get more information on her book here

<http://litartmag.com/1107>

Thank you Emma for sharing with us.

### Smashwords to the Rescue

By **John Loval**

Smashwords was an idea brought about by an author's frustration of the regular publishing industry. Mark Coker is the innovator of Smashwords. According to some tales, Mark had a book and already being a published author, he approached many publishing companies to produce his book. None wanted to take a chance on the book and rejected. It was suggested to him that he seek private publishing.

In 2005, Mark began the idea Smashwords and by 2008, they launched the site. It took two years for Smashwords become somewhat profitable. As of this date, Smashwords has published 286,764 books and their free book listings are over 38,000.

Unfortunately, for the author many do not understand self-publishing and are easily taken in by the shysters that will charge you thousands of dollars to publish your book. For those thousands of dollars all you really get is a few copies of your book and e-book for distribution. They will add on all kinds of extra fees, including those for editing and proofreading.

Amazon has the MOBI format. Through Amazon, you can also publisher e-book. A book published on Amazon only becomes part of their distribution. Amazon in itself will attempt to regulate the author, suggesting that they want them to add to various programs as well as a 90-day exclusive agreement. You do not have to do any of that, but they try to get you to do that.

Smashwords has had the same formula that they have expanded on over the years. There is no cost for you to publish a book as well there is no cost for distribution. Over the years, Smashwords distribution list has gotten larger from the originals of few large retail companies, to now having a dozen more agreements with other companies to help ensure that an author gets the widest distribution possible. Like Amazon, they take a percentage of the sales. Smashwords percentage is considerably less than Amazon.

On Amazon, if you have a book listed at $.99, the most you will receive is $.35 or 35%. In contrast, Smashwords always tries to get the author at least 60% of the selling price, more if sold on Smashwords itself.

Taken straight from information on Smashwords, concerns the reality of sales. Smashwords states that only around 10% of your sales will come directly from Smashwords. The rest comes from their distribution network from such companies, and there are many now.

There are some major differences between Smashwords and Amazon when it comes to acceptable formats for publication. Smashwords provides their own style guide and if you follow the guides and format your document correctly, it will go off without a hitch. The main reason they have a format guide to start with is that they're making your book marketable to many companies, so it has to fit within certain standards.

Amazon on the other hand seems only to basic spell checking and then lets the rest go unless there are complaints about your book where afterwards, Amazon will want you to fix it. It generally is much more difficult to fix something after you published it and that alone can cost you sales. It becomes an indicator of your writing talents, whether that is correct or not...it becomes assumed.

Smashwords uses what they affectionately call the meat-grinder. It checks every and all details of your publication to make sure that it conforms to the industry standards and if it doesn't, they tell you how to fix it, long before you publish.

This article focuses on Smashwords as a viable choice for most authors with the simple reasoning, that they do a better job for free. There are no upfront costs and your sales are paid quarterly, as long as they meet a minimum requirement. That requirement to be paid into your PayPal account is only $10. Accounting is flawless and you are guaranteed be paid on all your sales. If you do a little research on the web to find that many people have become discouraged by Amazon and the reporting methods they use, which often conflict with what authors think that their sales really are. No solid evidence is provided by either side just suggestions of impropriety.

The most valuable aspect of using Smashwords is that there is no exclusive agreement, and you can publish your book elsewhere simultaneously.

Being an author, is a bad business model. It's very tough to become recognized and do really well with sales. It takes many years for most self-published authors to start making a mediocre living from their art. It takes time patience and focus to move forward in that particular world and the only way you can stand out is to have your writing expose you.

Marketing is the bane of every author. Knowing how to write does not mean you know how to sell. Often the illusion is created that states, look my books are available and that is all I need to do and if you are a famous author that would probably be enough.

The author must continuously market themselves and their books everywhere and anywhere that they can to grab a slice of the audience. Amazon will not do that for you and neither will Smashwords. It is up to the individual author to promote their own work and when done properly, the sales will follow providing it is well written in first place.

The main issue that writers have, the same issue that I have, is reading our own work. I write things and then I reread them and I make a few changes and it all looks good to me. The human brain is fantastic at filling in details that are not there and tricking you into believing that the written words are exactly what they are supposed to be. This is rarely the case; you need other people to look at your writing with a critical eye. You require editors and proofreaders to go over your manuscripts and make you aware of the mistakes and errors found within. One of the most important things you need to find out, is the story well-written and entertaining. Proofreaders and editors rarely provide that service and unless you are selling to a publishing house.

I read an average of 200 books a year, some good, some bad and some simply horrendous. The reasons that a book would be horrible, deals more with the story and how it's laid out, how much it wanders and how details are filled in. I've seen many authors fill out a 300 page book when, in fact, at best it was a short story. Beta readers and good editors will give you the feedback necessary to improve your story. You do not have to choose to follow their advice, but you should take it seriously.

With the advent of easy access to the web, e-books are a fast-growing phenomenon. You can read on your phone, a tablet or computer. There are also dedicated e-readers willing to be stuffed full of books. It is now conceivable to have an entire library of thousands of books at your fingertips. The ways of paper are giving way to the digital.

Companies like Smashwords, whom seek to make that happen in a very rapid way. Make no mistakes about it, they are a distribution platform and by that itself, will not guarantee sales. What makes them better than the most is a commitment to the author and giving the widest distribution platform possible. This is something they work on daily and are ever increasing number of companies that are willing to distribute your book.

Art Gallery

Joshua Townley

I picked up an airbrush for the first time when I was fourteen, and at sixteen I sold my first portrait...

Since then, I've applied the techniques I learned from airbrushing across a range of mediums, but the three I keep coming back to are pencil, charcoal and airbrush. Although I pursued a career in science, obtaining a PhD in Chemistry and finding a good job in the pharmaceutical industry, art was always my passion.

My creative flame has recently been rekindled, inspired by the hyperrealism works of Denis Peterson, Armin Mersman, Dru Blair (and so many others) and through my writing, drawing, and painting I'm starting to imagine a new future for myself - a future where I can make a career out of my art and live my passion.

Title: **Kooky Old Man**

This painting was done with an airbrush and acrylic paints on A3 paper over approximately 10 hours. I couldn't believe how much character had been captured in this simple photograph. The original photo was taken by Barnabas Borocz.

Title: **Rough Road**

The photograph of this woman immediately grabbed me, and I simply had to draw her. It is drawn in charcoal on A4 paper, and took approximately 5 hours to complete.

Title: **Yoda**

Because, who doesn't love Yoda? This is another charcoal drawing, this time drawn on A3 paper in approximately 10 hours. This is one of the first charcoal drawings where I really began to experiment with different textures and blending techniques, and it was certainly one of the most fun I've ever done.

See more of his work here

<https://www.facebook.com/joshtownleyfineart>

**Laurie Shanholtzer**

Originally from Bronxville, New York and now living in Huntington, West Virginia. I have been painting commissioned pastel portraits most of my adult life, working mainly in pastels. I have now decided to pursue my first love; painting pictures for and about children. I also enjoy painting pictures that tell a story or try and capture a memory or a whistful feeling.

Title: **The Ocean's Lullaby**

Enthralled with the sounds and feel of the wind and sea.

Title: **Love You**

This shy little guy is presenting his 'not so fresh" rose to his sweetheart. And how can he resist the cutie with her coy little smile

Find more about her here

On Etsy: Laurie Shanholtzer - Art for Kids and Their Grownups

<https://www.etsy.com/shop/LaurieShanholtzer>

Website: http://laurieshanholtzer.weebly.com/

Facebook: <https://www.facebook.com/LJShanholtzer>

Twitter: <https://twitter.com/laurieshan>

### How Charlie Saved my Life

By **Rochelle Campbell**

The waterfall was thundering as the water slammed against the rocks. I sat looking at those gigantic boulders jutting above the water's surface. The canoe was bobbing rapidly and the mist from the water was stinging my eyes.

I looked up and saw the swollen grey clouds and wondered how far off the rain was; yesterday it threatened to come but it didn't. I didn't think I'd be so lucky today -- of all days.

Running for your life is hard work; you even have to check the weather.

I laughed mirthlessly to myself. I'd never thought I'd be the one to run from Cassidy. I always thought it would be her. She seemed the vulnerable unstable one. She was the one who had to do hocus-pocus to walk out the door every day. It was her that created the whole idea of waiting for the time to be right to do the most mundane of things such as cut her hair. Who ever heard of waiting for a particular cycle of the moon to cut their hair?? Nuts. She was plum nuts.

No matter how many times I say it. Chant it, even. I still can't believe what happened today. I knew all along intellectually that she was NUTS (and I'm nuts by association...) but something in my gut told me she wasn't. My gut won out and I guess that's why I stayed...until today.

I got the ore out and pulled away from the rocks. I was dangerously close to a particularly jagged rock formation. While I know I don't have all that much to live for I'm not willing to make the ultimate sacrifice and give up the ghost for a woman. Damn. I'm even using her lingo. I shook my head. Five years was a long time to spend with a woman like Cassidy. She was my everything and my nightmare all rolled into one 5'6" curvy red-headed package.

I didn't know anything about witches and stuff when I met her in the Spring of 2004. Maybe she didn't then either. She was fresh out of college, opinionated as only a new graduate can be and full of what she thought she knew. Me being a good ten years older just knew that I could hold my own with this waif of a girl who was so inexperienced in all other areas outside of academia. What I didn't know was that she was capable of murder.

I stopped paddling and looked back at the waterfall. I saw that it looked a bit different from the way it looked just a few minutes ago. That disturbed me; too many things today were not as they seemed.

My mind told me that the waterfall probably had looked the same since the dawn of time but for whatever reason, right now, to me, it looked different after only a few moments had passed. The water was not as vibrant. The thundering of the water hitting the rocks not as loud even though I was only a mere 200 feet from where I was a short while ago. I panicked and began pinching myself hard on the arms and legs and willed away the dizzy-world-tilting feeling I was beginning to experience. I needed to get further away!! I was somehow still in her range! I began paddling again like a madman and didn't stop again until I was almost across the channel and near the far shore.

My breathing was labored and I felt clammy. I was thirsty but I dared not stop. I might not be far enough away. But I was tired. I rested my eyes a moment and remembered how my day began.

I was getting ready for work this morning at my usual time of 5 am. I enjoy teaching fresh young nimble minds how to read and have excellent penmanship. I am at the school building at 6:45am every day in preparation for my 7:55am first bell. Class begins officially at 8:15am and I go until 2:45pm when the last bell of the day sounds. I love – loved – my routine. Cassidy knew it and hated it. She stayed up until all hours and went to bed sometimes as I was leaving to go to work at 6:25.

I never figured out how we could work so well for so long and love each other so much with such different sleep patterns but somehow we worked it out. She didn't work a traditional job. She was a movie theatre concession stand girl and worked the late shift. Until her real job began.

I didn't know about the real job until 6 months ago. I wondered how a girl selling popcorn, candy and soda could afford a house, a new car every 2 years and all of the little luxuries she desired. It was a mystery to me one she enjoyed taunting me with. I assumed she had other men on the side who gave her things in an attempt to woo her. I was head over heels with her so I was thankful she gave me the time of day. I am not the most gorgeous thing that ever walked the earth and being 5'8" at 238 pounds was not your ideal guy (and believe me it's not muscle weight), but she liked me almost immediately and we moved in together after only dating for 6 months. I've been told that I have these fabulous baby blue eyes that are so clear you can almost see my soul. That's my most attractive feature. "Who wouldn't want a baby with eyes like mine?" – is what I told her at the bar where we met. [Yeah, a lame line but you use what you've got.]

So why would the red-bombshell be interested in me? Why did she wine and dine me? I still haven't a clue. I think she genuinely liked me and thought I was a funny guy. I never felt anything false in her when it came to our relationship. The falsity came when she spoke of her concession stand job and her late hours. The other dudes thing never came up though. She was not into other men at least I don't think so. Her sex drive was incredible and if she had other men that means she was some king of freakazoid animal with all the energy and attention she put into our sessions. So, another guy or guys was not on my mind.

But why was she out until 4 am? What other reasons were there? With my limited life experience (meaning I was only around normal people) the only thing me and my buddies came up with was another man or she was prostituting herself like one of those high-priced call girls that sat at the arm of rich and powerful men and did their bidding, whatever that entailed, and in return she didn't have to do anything but look pretty or something along those lines. I never wanted to think too deeply about this scenario. But this was the one thing I believed about Cassidy for the better part of our relationship. However, since she always came home to me and was ravenous for me with my flabby butt I never questioned my good fortune. My mother always told me to never look a gift horse in the mouth...or anywhere else for that matter.

I shook myself out of my reverie and rowed the rest of the way to the far shore. I anchored the little canoe and grabbed out my duffel bag and headed east into the forest which would lead me towards civilization and hopefully anonymity.

The tree branches tugged at me, snagged my down vest and scratched my cheeks reminding me of her hot tongue racing along my ear and angling towards my mouth. I closed my eyes and ran a hand over my face. The clamminess was almost gone but I could still feel the hot itchiness of the pain in my side but I didn't want to think about that yet. All I know is this morning wasn't one I want to remember but I'm thankful to be alive to tell about it.

It's hard to believe that so much could happen so quickly. About six months ago I got a call on my cell from my buddy Charlie Ray during lunchtime who said that he couldn't keep the secret any more. I knew Charlie Ray for over 20 years; he and I went to elementary school together and became blood brothers when we were both 9. He sounded shaky, scared and disoriented. I asked him to stop by later that evening and he screamed he'd never set foot in Cassidy's house again. He told me that Cassidy was the spawn of the devil and had put a curse on him because he was in love with old Mrs. Newbridge's daughter. We all knew Mrs. Newbridge was an old biddy who didn't want her daughter to ever leave her. Charlie Ray had gone and swept Tammy Faye off her feet and Mrs. Newbridge went bonkers and said that Charlie Ray would regret the day he ever set eyes on her daughter, Tammy Faye.

At first I got nervous and a bit scared but then remembered it was almost Halloween and told him that was a good one and hung up on him. Charlie Ray always played practical jokes on me throughout our lives. He was always good for a laugh. Charlie Ray was always the straight man in our group of 8 or so guys. He always played his part to the hilt. He always had me going but I caught on somewhere in sophomore year at college. I guess I was tired of always getting funned because I fell for Charlie Ray's pranks hook, line and sinker. I took everything seriously. Key word is took. I didn't take him seriously that day and he didn't show up. I shrugged it off and went on with my day.

When Charlie Ray was found floating in the river a few days later I didn't know what to think. I became paralyzed with fear and shame. Could Charlie Ray have been telling me the truth? I talked to the other guys and everyone was scared shitless and wouldn't talk to me; they avoided all eye contact with me. It was downright weird and a bit frightening. These big strapping men all said they were afraid of Cassidy and what she'd do to them if they talked to me. Cassidy made it plain to all the town folk that she didn't want me to know anything about her except what she told me herself. That's all I got out of them.

So I began asking around at school about Cassidy. The school is outside the town where Cassidy and I lived so I figured it would be okay and people wouldn't mind telling me any gossip they'd heard bandied about. Boy, was I wrong! After a lot of questions, notes going back and forth to parents and a few whispered conversations with geriatric type folks. I figured out Cassidy was considered the local witch doctor or something to that effect. Looking back now, I realize that in all of this I wasn't scared of Cassidy in the slightest. I felt she loved me and wouldn't do anything to harm me. Now that I'm thinking about it, I wonder if she did something to make me indifferent...

As I said, I asked around and talked to everyone I could and word got around warning everyone – kids and adults -- not to talk to me. Word must have gotten back to our town and ultimately to Cassidy. All of this talking, whispering, reporting and covering up took about 4 ½ months. When I came home in late February, Cassidy was home at 3:20pm.

This should have alerted me. She was almost never home when I got home from school. She did the matinee at noon and then began the mid-afternoon show did a cleanup and then got home by 4:15pm made us a light dinner, we'd usually have a quickie and she was back to the theater by 6:55pm for the evening crowd. Her only day off was Wednesday. Today was Thursday.

I trudged through the foliage stumbling and letting the tears streak down my cheeks. I was so emotionally spent I didn't even realize that I was crying and that I was in pain. My right side was on fire. I could feel the pain now. This gave me grim pleasure. I was sure I was outside of her range now. The pain was my clue.

This morning was the first time I saw Cassidy's true identity. The Cassidy I knew had green eyes. This morning the woman I saw sitting at the table with the ramrod straight back had fierce marble grey eyes that actually looked like they were made from Tunisian sea salt.

"How dare you question me," the woman said in a low voice. This Cassidy's hair was not the beautiful full mane of red, copper and brown strands of my lady. This Cassidy's hair was more brown and copper than red. This Cassidy had a leaner body with full breasts still but the hips were narrower and the legs longer and firmer. This Cassidy was not dressed in a flowery pretty cotton or organza summer frock. This Cassidy was dressed in almost all black with black stretchy pants with a dull sheen to it and a cropped black t-shirt and a military looking black leather short jacket and black slippers sort of like what ninjas in the movies wear.

A drop of cold sweat ran down my back. This woman was frightening. She was still and deadly. Her nails were long and painted black. Her lips were thin but very broad. Her skin was pale and was almost luminescent. She looked not quite real. She looked as if I could close my eyes and when I reopened them I would see no one. Yet, I knew this woman who was supposed to be Cassidy would still be there if I dared to close my eyes. I don't think I blinked during the whole encounter. She never got up during our entire conversation. Come to think of it she never even moved. Not even her lips. She was as still as a pond but nowhere near as tranquil.

"She's done nothing but protect you and cherish you and love you. I told her you weren't strong enough or smart enough. I told her you were a liability. I told her you would be just like all the others. I told her love was not for her. But she didn't believe me. She somehow believed you and stayed with you. Why? What did you do to her? She's powerful and you're – not."

The grey eyes bored into me. I felt glued to the spot. The door was still open. I hadn't closed it yet. But outside was still. No noises could be heard anywhere. The birds had even stopped singing.

The grey eyes were not done with me.

I felt like I was made of marble. I couldn't move even when I saw the long crooked blade appear in her hand I didn't -- couldn't -- move. I was not going to die today. I couldn't die that day. I had a mid-term to grade for the next day's class. Little Sandy's finger was bruised because I made her write so much and I had to go in the next day and make sure her parents put some tape or a bandage on her finger to help her do the penmanship work tonight. So, you see I couldn't be dead in the morning. I had work to do.

These non-secquitors didn't register at the time. The illogic didn't penetrate the fog that seemed to be around the edges of my eyes. The fog didn't lift when the knife was gliding towards me. The miasma didn't swamp me at all when the knife found my right side and tore into it. (I must have turned but I don't remember doing so.) I couldn't imagine the pain. So, I didn't. The agony was so great I couldn't block it out but I knew that I couldn't stay rooted to the spot. I had to move. Instinct must have kicked in albeit a bit late but is still kicked in.

That's when I saw Charlie Ray. He was behind me calling me screaming my name at the top of my lungs. He said to follow him and I'd be safe. Just follow him.

I don't know how I managed it but I stumbled half-fell out the front door just as another thud hit it. I didn't stop to look but I knew it must have been another of the special knives this Cassidy had at her disposal.

I could see Charlie Ray up ahead of me running like a banshee with my black duffel bag over his shoulder. He kept urging me along. He kept convincing me I'd be alright if I just followed him and didn't look back not even once.

I followed good ole Chuck. I never questioned him. I never said anything to him I just followed. The pain didn't feel so bad now. My right side didn't even hurt. As long as I ran close behind Charlie Ray I felt pretty okay. I didn't even think about what I was running from. I didn't think about Cassidy and her beautiful body and face and hair. I didn't think. I just ran.

About a mile from the house Charlie Ray stopped and made me take some pain killers. He told me to take them out of the duffel bag's side pocket. The bottle of aspirin was nearly empty but I took about 5 at his urging and gulped it down with no water or anything. Charlie Ray said to take them straight so I did. I didn't question Charlie Ray. I didn't question anything this morning.

I just ran.

We got to the shoreline and Charlie Ray pointed out the canoe and threw my duffel bag in it. He told me to get in and he started pushing me off to catch the waves. He didn't come in with me.

"Get in!" I shouted. He shook his head and pointed to the far shore many miles away.

"I can't go with you. I have to stay here." He was standing knee deep in the water and looked so sad. So very very sad. "I tried to warn you, Buck. I did. I really did but you didn't believe me. This was the best I could do. I came back to save you. Please always remember I did that, okay?"

Then he vanished.

I stared at the spot he occupied a second ago. A violent shiver took hold of me. I almost fainted from fear, shock, pain, disbelief but I heard Charlie Ray's voice right beside my left ear and he shouted, "She's coming! Go! She cannot cross the water but you must be in deep water for her not to catch you. Go!!!!"

I grabbed the ore and began paddling. I paddled and paddled until I got to the waterfall which was halfway across which is where I began my story.

It's still Thursday. I'm alone in a hotel room now. I'm out of the forest and I'm many miles away from Cassidy and I live – lived. The knife wound is not bad (I think). It's mainly a flesh wound (I hope). But I'm afraid to go to the hospital. I want to get further away but I must sleep. I must stop for a moment. Charlie Ray didn't say I couldn't sleep. Somehow I think if I couldn't stop for a few hours to rest he would tell me.

I never believed in anything outside of the norm before today. I never believed in Hell or Heaven in good or bad. I never believed in she-devils or demons, witches or goblins. But Charlie Ray died on All Hallow's Eve, otherwise known as Halloween, last year. I vaguely recall that Halloween is a special day when the worlds of the living and the dead sort of merge so the line between the two is blurry.

Before I drifted off to sleep it clicked, really clicked, that Charlie Ray died 6 months ago. That Charlie Ray couldn't have packed my duffel bag, carry it to the shore, arranged to have a canoe on hand and shove me into the water. The Charlie Ray I saw today was nothing but a figment of my imagination...right??

### Editing Software Lacks Perfection

By **Wilbur Hollinger**

For writers and authors, editing, is the worst part of the art. Professional services are available in a range of prices to suit most authors. However, these probably should be reserved for the final edits of the manuscript and not the initial edit.

What this article is not, is a review or comparison of writing editing software. It examines its usefulness as a tool to a writer. No endorsements are being made here.

Editing software is supposed to make the author's life easier, by isolating and displaying errors contained within the writing itself. The problem stems more from accuracy than anything else. No matter how good the editing software is, it still leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to real editors.

Let's take this basic example. A piece of flash fiction, encompassing an entire story in three sentences. Initial read may show one glaring error right up front. Is been how long four days of this endless battle with both sides suffering heavy losses. The grammar in these three sentences is fundamentally incorrect.

Sean once told me, that you always hear the bullet with your name on it. Is been a long four days of this endless battle with both sides suffering heavy losses. I slumped deeper into my trench exhausted and then heard the wind whisper my name.

Now let's see what some editor software has to say.

Pro writing aid is an online tool that will analyze writing for this short little story. It came up with at a total of three errors of overused words, sticky sentences and it didn't like the sentence length. It did not find any basic grammatical errors.

WhiteSmoke is combination software that runs on your computer. How it works is, it uploads a single paragraph at a time to their server for analysis. What WhiteSmoke reports, is that it wants to change the first **hear to heard**. That would make the tenses correct. It also wanted to change the **is been to it has been,** also more correct.

There are many more editing programs out there and I know I have barely mentioned a few. I do this to illustrate a point, whereas WhiteSmoke identified a few errors, a real editor would have a lot more to state about the three sentences, that go beyond the scope of just basic grammar. The others failed entirely.

As the main issue and problem with all editing software, it's a simple tool and that's it. You can never compete with a real-live editor. I'm not saying that editing software doesn't have a value, because it does but it all depends on how you write.

The way I write, is I use Dragon NaturallySpeaking to do the laborious typing for me. This brings on a completely new set of problems, dealing with transcription from voice to text. It doesn't always write exactly what I say and the punctuation suffers when I forget to say the word comma or period.

That makes me try to edit on the fly, but I still miss things, so I require some type basic editing software that matches what I need.

I use WhiteSmoke, not for its actual editing ability, but rather how it displays the information to me: in a single paragraph form in large letters that are easy to read. I can now envision the entire paragraph and look for the errors, then make corrections.

After I've made the corrections, I usually run it through a voice synthesizer so that I will speak the words. I find this helps to further isolate and recognize errors.

When I'm satisfied with a particular piece of work and I've made all the corrections on going to; I forwarded it off to my editor for further refinements.

That is the way I write, you however, may have an entirely different approach. A tool is only as good as you make use of it. A simple search on Google will provide you with many different writing editing software packages and the ones that you may already use will also be there. It is worth the effort to selectively try out as many as possible, looking at is value in a realistic way. Some are better than others in some aspects, whereas they fall short in others. There is no perfect solution to editing software, yet and perhaps there never will be.

I can't emphasize enough, a real-live editor costs pays for itself in the long run. To illuminate this I will point out a book I read.

This particular book was not that badly written. However, it seems that search and replace function had gone berserk at some point. I read a certain paragraph and then noticed later on in the book, the same paragraph. That would be odd, however still plausible to reuse a paragraph. That was not the case; that paragraph reappeared within a word, splitting the word. A sentence had started in mid point in the paragraph or sentence, then the redundant paragraph was inserted. This happened in many locations throughout the book as well as other paragraph redundancies. Truly, the word processor had apparently thrown up.

Editing software may have caught this; definitely, the spell check should have highlighted some of the problems. A real editor would have sent it back for a rewrite.

Unfortunately, the book was published in an e-book format complete with all the unintended errors.

Errors happen to me. I sometimes write newsletters, rather quickly, then just send them out. Some of the readers have made comments about the typos, grammatical errors etc. I've even had several people offered to act as an editor to correct my wanton mistakes.

If I'd even taken the time to pass it through some editing software, there would've been fewer errors.

Value, is what you make of it. Some of the editing software is incredibly expensive; some of the online is free. To get an actual value you have to see how it works for you. You are the first-line of defense here on your writing and it is up to you to correct as much as you possibly can before you send it to a real editor.

Some of the serious drawbacks to editing software is the hype and advertising for that particular piece of software. Most, if not all, will claim to edit your story or article or whatever it is you happen to be writing to perfection. This is misleading, if not an outright lie and something you should bear in mind before purchasing any software.

A case in point is WhiteSmoke. The website gives you the illusion that you are purchasing software that you can continue use forever. The real cases is this, the software is merely a front end to access their website and their database to do the editing. It is subscription-based that is purchased yearly or in blocks of five years. The software itself that they seem to have sold you does nothing on its own.

Other editing software will state that it is a subscription service up front and the cost for everything varies so is always best if you test the software out first to see if it's going to make an improvement in your own writing or not. If they're unwilling to give you a trial, then it's probably not worth your time looking at it because you won't know it's good or bad until after you purchased it.

Always remember, that your writing reflects you and as a direct consequence of that, it's up to you to perfect it and use whatever tools available to do that.

THE POWER OF THE WORD:

### LET US STRIVE TO MAKE A POSITIVE DIFFERENCE

By **Ndaba Sibanda**

Is writing not something of great magnificence? If so, why can we not make a difference?

The world has never been static, so has writing. It is dynamic. It makes the world revel and reveal itself. Out went the traditional writing feather or pen, and in surged the typewriter, then the "wise" computer. Kudos, the world crooned in celebration of probably one of civilization`s amazing conquest and result.

However, this does not mean that the pen is down and out. Not at all. Neither does it mean that the pen has ceased to be mightier than the sword. Writing is writing whether by virtue of the might of the pen or the wizardry of the computer.

One well-known author, Maya Angelou says, "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." How many authors have burning stories to tell but yet they still owe the world a huge debt because they have not taken time to tell them, or have not figured how they could tell them in the most effective and efficient way possible? How many artists are "pregnant" with rare and exciting ideas and experiences but sadly have been in labour for too long without actually giving birth to those ideas and experiences which could feasibly stir, illuminate and inspire the world?

It is a world so fast-paced that some "forward-looking people" believe that books -as we know them now-will be transformed into dinosaurs by the emergence of the e-books. What are the implications and complications for the writers and publishers? Does it mean that writers who stick to the old book idea will also perish or become dinosaurs? This discourse will not dwell on those possible ramifications. Maybe another time and space will be explored and created.

This essay seeks to motivate writers to write insightfully, passionately and selflessly for writing is a noble profession. Words are powerful weapons which can transform the world for the better.

l believe each and every artist has a responsibility not only to excel and leave a good legacy but also to SELFLESSLY reach out to the artistic needs and aspirations of other people at a given time, especially the young and everyone else and make a positive difference wherever and whenever possible. Like other talents, writing is a privilege and platform we can use to reach out, and in the process find meaning in this seemingly meaningless world, find voice for a voiceless society and even find ourselves, discover who really we are in the thick bush of confusion and desperation we sometimes find ourselves in.

Through writing we find courage, ammunition and inspiration to go on, in spite of all the odds, we find vision to define and refine our identities and destinies. Yes, through writing we find ourselves, our voice and verve. And through writing we get personal and meaningful solace, fulfillment and a true sense of belonging and of being blessed. Through writing, we have every right to thank God for His kindness in bestowing love and life upon us, life endowed with something special- writing abilities and possibilities.

After all, on a broader spectrum, writing is a form of communication, and we all know that without communication and interaction the world becomes hollow, chaotic and meaningless.

There is no gainsaying the fact a writer`s humble efforts have to exposed to an appreciating or interested audience. This calls for patience, diligence and research. Many "aspiring writers ", if ever there was such a group, seek instant success. They become too obsessed with the end-result instead of patiently perfecting and nurturing their craft. More often than not, a wave of disappointment and disillusionment ambushes and hits them mercilessly when they do not find the expected success, fame and fortune. At best, they could fail to reach their potential, and at worst this could spell doom for them as they begin to resent writing as an exploitative and unaspiring abyss.

Writing is a process, not an event. Waiting for success or recognition could seem like an eternity. It could seem like waiting in vain. On the contrary, like all good things, one has to scale up one`s efforts and wait. Complacency is a malady. Too much haste tends to bear frustration, half-baked products and still births. Start small, and grow .In today`s world, the platforms presented by publishers, print magazines, online publications, networks, writers` clubs, blogging and agents play a crucial role in a writer`s career. In this day`s digital age, one has to make or break it. Competition is stiff. This does not imply that the prospects are not rosy. Innovation is the buzzword. Writers should know their story otherwise they risk remaining in the dark like light covered by a cloud of darkness. In today`s world, the state of the arts presents a wide range of publishing opportunities and possibilities which one should not whine about , but take advantage of and shine.

J.D. Salinger came up with an interesting observation. He said "What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though." Are you not ready to knock many a reader out? Are you not ready to unleash your greatness? How many writers are sitting on their works of art?

One never knows , possibly a script one has not been working on wholeheartedly, or one has even abandoned in fear of getting rejections from publishers could be a masterpiece to unlock the literary keys of success and not only propel one to dizzy heights but also endear one to the world. Different editors have different tastes, choices and policies. One editor`s immediate choice could be another`s instant rejection. Keep those rejection slips as inspirational reminders that one has to keep on writing, rewriting and rewriting until one`s writing shines like a piece of diamond. As readers, we all wish to read unputdowns. Similarly, a writer worth their salt wish they could write that text which will linger on the minds of their readers long after the book has been put down. Cornelia Funke once said," Which of us has not felt that the character we are reading in the printed page is more real than the person standing beside us?"

Writers and words are good bedfellows. Pass that word. Maya Angelou, the famous author of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings says "Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning." a word is a unit of expression which is intertwined with sight, sound, smell, touch, and body movement. I think it is memorable (and obviously powerful) because it appeals to our physical, emotional and intellectual processes. As language practitioners, this knowledge (of the mental schema) is crucial.

What is in a word? I believe there is a statement. For me, words illuminate, revel and reveal the world. Literature is literature because of words that constitute it. Patrick Rothfuss says, "Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts." Yet, Rudyard Kipling claims, "Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind." I think this is a very interesting observation.

Writers` sites are important because they do not only help artists hone their skills through practice, some of them also give one information about expert writing tips, pitfalls to avoid, and about publication opportunities available here and there, including the literary achievements of other community members. In essence, all these elements serve to inspire people, and even attract them to the site. They make them better craftsmen and craftswomen, they bring authors together, and they market them and their craft.

To this end, l urge fellow writers to meaningfully use writing as a platform to reach out and touch lives in a positive way. Solidarity is a rarity to be nurtured and encouraged. This could come as a congratulatory message to people who have done something special. Let us celebrate with those who have won writing awards, published books or even joined our sites. Words can change the world. Why? There a certain potency or power that is wielded by words. Patrick Rothfuss illustrates this by declaring, "Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts."

Writers have an assiduous duty to unravel the mystery of life. Writing presents a mirror through which one seeks to understand, analyse and cherish the complexity of human life and its dynamics. For where there is a breath of life there is a kind of theatre. This is the beauty of writing. l have my favourite phrase: it is right to write..."

Madeleine L'Engle once said "You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children."

Have a great day, and continue to spread that great message of reaching out to the young, for the writing future belongs to them!

More info here

http://www.africabookclub.com/?s=Ndaba+Sibanda

Ink from the Heart on Authors...

An Interview with Dyslexic

Author Jane Yates

With Deuce Wylde

I have the pleasure of hosting debut novelist, Jane Yates. An Oxford mother with the reading age of a 12-year-old and the spelling age of an eight-year-old has swept her dyslexia aside to write her first novel. Jane shares candidly in an interview about the challenges she faced.

Hi Jane thanks for doing this interview.

Liphar: Can you give us a little about your background?

JY: I am a 51-year-old mum with three children, Emily, 20, James, 31 and Marie, 29. I moved to Oxford in 2001 after spending time in Wales and studied physics, the environment and technology at Oxford University.

I am badly dyslexic and never used to think of myself as a writer at all. I have always been creative and an artist and it was my art that indirectly lead me to the path to becoming a successful writer. In fact, it's all because of my fat spaniel and an incredible editor of a local paper who believes everybody can be a writer.

Liphar: How did you get started in writing?

JY: A few years ago, I was drawing a cartoon about my then overweight spaniel, Mandy. My dream was to get my cartoon published, but I did not have a clue where to start. I emailed my very first cartoon to Sarah, the editor of Ley's news, a community paper in Oxford UK, which is delivered to over 50,000 homes in the area. Sarah published my cartoon and encouraged me to come on a course she was running for community journalism, which was sponsored by Brookes University.

I was reluctant to go! I did not want to be a writer; I just wanted to draw cartoons. A large part of my reluctance was that I suffered from low self-esteem; also, I was a little scared. I mean what if I had to read something out, or worse, write answers down on a board. For a while, I was transported back to when I was a teenager and had to read out a passage in class. I stammered and stumbled with the short passage and had to listen to the laughs and jeers of my classmates.

I was scared, but I heard a nice saying, which goes something like, 'you're not brave in life, unless you're scared.' Therefore, I went on the course partly because it was free with drinks and biscuits, but mostly as I wanted my cartooning to continue.

It was a well-structured course and Sarah was an inspirational teacher. She encouraged everyone who attended to write a piece for the paper. So to fast forward a bit, I wrote regularly for the Blackbird Leys and Greater Leys community newspaper - Leys News and even had my own columns, one of which was called, 'Life begins at 50.'

It was suggested that I take part in the National Novel Writing Month, which challenges would-be authors to write 50,000 words. The National Novel Writing Month is free to sign up and puts you in touch with other writers in your area. And from this Paradox Child was published.

Liphar: How successful has your quest for reviews been so far?

JY: I got my first reviews by Mr Chris Keppie who wrote:

This review is from: Paradox Child (Paradox Child Series)

Delightful characters in a wonderful mix (or rather, interface) of the ordinary and extraordinary.

Young Lilly lives in a normal house in Oxford, attends school (fairly regularly), and has spaniels, friends, romance, bereavement, marmalade sandwiches and lots of cakes. And (whilst Dad's not about), a Mum and Gran who matter of fact teach her Latin, botany and spells! Oh yes, and how to time travel.

Chapter divisions cleverly move the story along, introducing enchanting nuggets of history, anthropology, philosophy, science, art, stories and cultures from around Britain and the world, whilst also endlessly playing with that juxtaposition of mundanity and magic. It's something else! Jane Yates clearly brings much firsthand knowledge and love to this debut book - children, Oxford and its wonderful museums, art, gardening, curiosities, alternative ways and understandings, etc - and this writing from the heart, as well as the head, helps make the story so very gripping.

In her biography, Yates describes herself as 'dreamer and dyslexic', which perhaps explains why some idiosyncratic spelling and punctuation still made it through editing. Yet these symptoms of the latter description are rendered entirely irrelevant by the former - she has dared to dream in taking on the huge challenge of expressing herself in fiction (as well as art which has come more naturally to her previously) and this is hugely inspirational in many ways. Her combination of simple everyday prose and structure, with some exquisite stories and phrases ('the sky was the colour of pain's grey'), beautifully mirrors the story's play between the mundane here and now, and the magical other.

I've loved reading this book and found the conclusion both satisfying in itself, whilst also lending itself to the exciting possibility of sequels. I'd highly recommend Paradox Child to readers both young and old and congratulate Jane Yates on a fantastic first novel.

Others closely followed this review and I was surprised by the results.

The nice comments gave me the motivation, to publish the second book, which is Therianthropy

Liphar: When were you first published and what are you working on at the minute?

JY: Paradox Child, the first, was self-published in August 2013 and has already had more than 1000 downloads online. The book was part of a planned trilogy and I have just finished the third book in the series and will be out soon, where I am waiting for the spelling to be checked. The reviews have been positive so far and I hope that it directs more people to Pitt Rivers, which is an amazing place.

Liphar: Where it is about?

JY: It's about a girl who is a dreamer, as I am and set in the 1980s in the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, where I work part-time. A 12-year-old protagonist Lily becomes embroiled in a time travel adventure, as her family secret of casting spells is revealed. It also incorporates teenage romance with no bedroom bits and steampunk. (Ed note. The term "steampunk" originally referred to speculative fiction - science fiction, fantasy and fictional historical tales - set in an alternate Earth's 19th century. A genre of science fiction that typically features steam-powered machinery rather than advanced technology.) ¬

Liphar: Where do your ideas come from?

JY: I used the works of the museum: the anthropology and archaeology as inspiration. I think a lot at work, so it was only natural to wonder about a secret world under the museum. I utilized all my knowledge of the museum's exhibits and displays together with my love of animals to create the story, which concerns a secret tunnel under the museum. There are rooms underneath the Ashmolean Museum and the Bodleian Library, so I used those for inspiration too.

Emily, my youngest is a steam punk artist and her spider was the main inspiration for the clockwork animals. She also gave me the idea for the vanity flowers and generally helped with encouragement.

Although a qualified gardener, I know many of the Latin names for plants, but can't spell them!

Liphar: How long did it take you to write the series?

JY: I wrote Paradox Child in bed and it took just 21 days! I couldn't sleep, so every night I sat down and wrote where it seemed to come out all at once. I had all these words inside me fighting to get out. Therianthropy, the second in the series took three months and the final in the series, (name to be released soon) just around 21 days again.

Liphar: Who edited your book and how did you select him/her?

JY: Fellow museum worker Kim Biddulph acted as editor; she has been amazing wading through my bad spelling. In addition, my editor at Leys News, Sarah Edwards has been an absolute rock and I thank both of them for their support.

For the second book Katie a friend edited it, she is also re-editing the first book again, as there is still bad spelling in it. Katie is also recording the book, where all the proceeds for the sale of the audio book will go to Oxfordshire MIND the Mill music room.

Liphar: What were some of the major hurdles you faced being dyslectic?

JY: I get really frustrated! I can think how I want to write, but often I can't get the words and although the spell checker is great, it does not always pick up my spelling. I have tied Google spelling, but I still get so frustrated.

Liphar: What would you say are the main advantages and disadvantages of self-publishing?

JY: I think I am a bit of a control freak and it's nice to set you own deadlines, however I wish I could spell as this slows things.

Liphar: What's your view on social media for marketing?

JY: It's hard work, but there are some lovely kind and committed people out there, like Liphar Magazine, who is willing to help and for free! Thank you 

Liphar: Is there any amusing story about marketing you book that has happened to you?

JY: Ohhh I wish there was.

Paradox Child

<http://litartmag.com/1108>

Therianthropy

<http://litartmag.com/1109>

Why the Quality Reviewer can be a Writer's Great Asset

by **Queen of Spades**

You have written and published your work. Definitely stick out your chest. It is an accomplishment, and the process, at times, is no picnic.

Now you have to get the word out there.

You have talked about it on your Facebook page. You've tweeted about it. You've told the various groups you're involved in about it. You have received congratulations on your achievement, and it may have been shared or retweeted. However, it may not always translate into someone checking out your work.

Having someone do a review serves many purposes.

One, you have someone who actually has your work to give it a read.

Two, that person can give you more exposure by advertising about it on his blog.

Third, if you have enough reviews, it may prompt others to get your book.

There are some book bloggers who do an open call for reviews. Before you submit your work, make sure you check and see what type of submissions they accept. There's no need for you to submit a Young Adult romance novel if the submission guidelines do not accept that type of work for review. If you submit your work anyway, you run the risk of getting rejected from the gate because you're not adhering to the guidelines they have put out there.

In addition, read the reviews they've given on others' works. Check out the presentation, and keep in mind, if they do a review for you, that is how it will be presented. How do you feel about the presentation?

There are others who will want to do a swap. This means they will review your book if you do the same in return. If you do this, make sure you uphold your end of the deal. One of the worst things you can do is have someone do something for you, but it is not returned in kind. Also, that will lead up to extremely bad publicity. The Internet world, especially the writing circles, is much smaller than you think. If word like that gets around, it will definitely take the focus off of your work as a writer and reflect on you as a person.

Now you've gotten your work into the hands of a reviewer. Here are a few things you should look for or want:

1. Thoroughness: It's easy for someone to simply say, "I love it." Dare to go deeper. See if the reviewer goes through the process to say what she loved about it. Is it the pace of the story? Is it the dynamics of the characters? Remember the things a reviewer says he loves about the story and utilize those things into future writings.

2. Honesty: As much as writers love to get praise, any writer worth his salt wants the reviewer to give an honest appraisal of his work. This does present the possibility your work may not be the reviewer's cup of tea. You have to be open to that.

You also have to sit back and weigh whether the disapproval is truly coming from an objective place.

You may get a review that says, "I hated it! The person writing this is a moron!"

You have to gauge if anything is to be gained from going back and forth with the person in the comments box. You can ask, "What didn't you like about it?" The person may respond objectively or the person may just not like your work. Don't try and spend time trying to change that person's mind about it because you can't please everyone.

However, most good reviewers won't call you a "moron", but they will let you know what they disliked about the story. You may see something along these lines:

"I could not finish the story in its entirety because there wasn't enough conflict to hold my interest."

"The story was pregnant with punctuation, grammar, and spelling mistakes, and I could not continue because I was too busy proofreading it."

Yes, these lines are criticism but they are clearly stating why they couldn't enjoy your work.

3. Suggestions: If a writer isn't learning, then he isn't growing. Be open to taking suggestions. Even if a reviewer thinks your work is great, they may drop a few things in here and there to make your story greater.

For example:

"I love how smooth the transition is from the present day events to the past day memories. However, I would have loved more physical description of the characters to feel as if I can truly see them."

In this, the reviewer is a fan of the action and the flow of the story but likes having a visual to match the action.

Another example:

"I applaud how metaphorically rich the stanzas are, but there is an excessive use of capitalization. The writer should weigh when to use capitalization for personification versus using it simply to uniform it to the format of the poetry."

In this example, the reviewer loves the language of the poetry but believes the writer is a bit overzealous in his capitalization practices.

For the review that turned out not so stellar, there is usually further feedback provided on how the story can be improved. For example:

"I could not finish the story in its entirety because there wasn't enough conflict to hold my interest. In the future, the writer should take more time to develop his character and his central conflict. Do you want your character to be able to easily solve the conflict? Do you want the conflict to be a challenge? Do you want the conflict to be relatable? Ask yourself these things. Outline it prior to publication. This will serve to improve your talent."

Another example:

"The story was pregnant with punctuation, grammar, and spelling mistakes, and I could not continue because I was too busy proofreading it. If you do not have time to check your own writing, invest in others to proofread your work. If you are relying on friends, make sure they have a good understanding of the English language and are willing to be meticulous, even at the expense of your ego. If you don't know anyone personally to go to and if you have the money, you can pay someone to do it for you. It is better to take extra time to proofread than to make these same types of errors in another story which may be phenomenal but will get overlooked."

In both examples, there was not only an outline of the problem but a suggestion on how to improve for next time.

Takeaways:

1. When getting someone to do a review, do your research. Read their guidelines to see if your work is something the person is interested in reading. Observe his past reviews to see if the reviews are in alignment with the type of feedback you want.

2. When doing swaps, keep your end of the deal. It's one thing to get bad press because of improvements in your writing. It's worse to get bad press because you aren't a person of your word.

3. Be prepared. Your ego may get bruised in order to precipitate progress. Decipher truly objective criticism versus those which are not.

4. Thank the reviewer for taking time to check out your work. If the reviewer was extremely helpful, spread the word about his services.

### Patrick Brigham

by **Madi Preda**

My guest today is Patrick Brigham, former Editor in Chief of Sofia Western News, writer and journalist

You cannot hope to bribe or twist,

Thank God!the British journalist.

But seeing what the man will do unbribed,

There's no occasion to.

Humbert Wolfe – The Uncelestial City

Hello Patrick, could you introduce yourself to my readers and tell them a bit more about yourself?

Leaving England in my late 40's was not such a big wrench for me – as one might have imagined –but to go from a relatively civilized and cultured background to a country steeped in the remnants of Brezhnev and Soviet Communism was a challenge. This is where my story as a writer and journalist begins and where the very core of my murder mystery novels is to be found.

I understand that you lived in Bulgaria for more than 20 years. Why did you choose this particular country?

It chose me as a matter of fact, because even though I was aware of the immanent changes in the political structure of Eastern Europe, it was not until I met a certain Bulgarian writer that I even bothered to find it on the map. I asked him where Bulgaria was, and he said come and see for yourself. That was in 1985, and five years before the alleged changes.

How was it there in the beginning, coming from UK – a country with a well established democracy and culture – and going to an ex-communist country? It was quite a challenge I guess.

When I arrived to live there in1993, I think by then I had heard all the myths and precursors that a floored political system could invent for itself. It is not difficult to see the truth, if you look hard enough, and it was easy for me to see that Bulgaria was a floored democracy and a floored economy.

As a journalist, you had the opportunity to meet a few politicians and business man in that country. Can you tell us about a public person who impressed you the most, whether good or bad?

Most of the politicians were reinvented Communists, because that was how the country was run after the fall of Todor Zhivkov the Bulgarian Communist Party Chief Secretary. It was all a sham, including the house arrest of Zhivkov himself and also the absurd election of the nominated ex-Communist leaders. The first election was a total joke, the only difference between the old regime and the new being, better tailors, nicer cars and whiter teeth.

You recently published two novels, Herodotus – The Gnome of Sofia and Judas Goat – The Kennet Narrow Boat Mystery. Can you tell us a bit more about each of them; is there a common link about them?

The common link in a way is my experiences of Communism and my knowledge of the circumstances surrounding the political changes. In Herodotus – the Gnome of Sofia, I lampoon the remains of the Cold War Mentality and the way that diplomats perceived the alleged democratization of Eastern Europe and the ignorance with which they approached the subject of political change. So, the story of Herodotus is one of self indulgence and indifference, plus Herodotus himself of course, who is a garden gnome which MI6 has filled with highly technical spying apparatus, all ready for the 21st Century.

Judas Goat – The Kennet Narrow Boat Mystery is quite different, but it also partly takes place in Sofia Bulgaria, and is about an arms deal involving the purchase of a squadron of MiG29's from Belorussia and also a small arms shipment to FARC terrorists in Columbia. This is a good murder mystery which starts off in the English countryside and then expands around the world, leaving various dead bodies in its wake.

Why did you choose these two particular subjects: the conspiracy and electronic espionage for Herodotus and such a complex murder mystery with international ramifications for Judas Goat? Are there some real facts which were inspired you?

Most writers are avid readers and in the case of Judas Goat, it was based on a newspaper report concerning certain individuals who were in the Peruvian Government during the 1990's. In the public domain, it was a question of researching the circumstances and then fictionalizing the outcome into a novel. The main theme concerns an arms deal that has gone wrong, and the murder mystery is about tracking down the culprits and finding out the truth.

Where does your passion come for murders and crime investigation, because both books sound very professional to me; both full of technical details. The forensics reports, the electronic spying devices or the arms deal details are absolutely amazing.

Most of this stuff has been on TV for years! One might say that I was brought up with TV murder mystery from the 1960's onwards. The technical details come from Wikipedia and elsewhere and represent a great deal of hidden study on my part. A similar electronic spying device was once discovered by the Russian secret service in Moscow – a few years back – apparently just outside the British Embassy!

Did you ask advice from an organization or from public services? And, did you get it?

I found SIPRI very useful when it came to details. They are an 'independent think tank,' in Sweden.

I understood that clever Detective Chief Inspector Lambert appears in both books. Are they part of a series?

He is only in Herodotus – The Gnome of Sofia in passing, but features heavily in Judas Goat – The Kennet Narrow Boat Mystery. My next book also involves the energetic and thoughtful Detective Chief Inspector Michael Lambert, who this time is employed by the newly formed Europol – European Police Organization – where his special skills are used to track down missing people and solving difficult historical cases, which have not always been satisfactorily investigated by local police.

What is the next book about and can you give us a clue?

DCI Lambert is asked to track down a young English girl who has been abducted from Southern Italy. Whilst he undertakes his duty as a policeman, he also finds himself retracing the wartime history of his own father who was stationed in Bari in Italy serving with an RAF Pathfinder Squadron. Whilst his travels are mainly to do with the missing little girl, he also discovers some disquieting revelations about his late father's wartime service and his secret private life.

When do you expect this book to be published and what are your plans for the future?

Good question, because I have only recently begun writing, but early next year would seem reasonable.

What is the struggle point in the writing process for you and what is your advice for any aspiring writers?

Time is the enemy and writing needs discipline. I come from an old school of writers who fundamentally believe that a book writes itself, and that we the writers are just scribes who follow our muse. That and a lot of hard work, of course, is how it is done!

Where can readers find out more about you and your books?

You can see more about me on my website. http://patrickbrigham.co.uk and find my books with most well known book sellers, in paperback.

Thank you for being with us today Patrick and I hope to have you again as a guest on my blog, talking about your new book and many others to come.

### The Survivalists

By **Felicity Harley**

George went outside as they delivered it. He could not remember a time in his life when he had not been preparing for the world's end.

He gazed with great love at the long corrugated pipe. It had been settled comfortably into the deep earthen trench he had spent the last two years digging in preparation for this day. Yes just for this day. He could not believe that here it finally was.

He lifted himself up onto the long metal tube and then gingerly entered the round, open hole at the top, sliding all the way down inside until his feet touched the ground. As he tapped the corrugated metal walls, he said to himself: "yea baby, this thing can withstand a nuclear bomb." He grinned hugely as this thought settled itself into his consciousness.

He turned to look at the interior living space, which was bigger than many New York apartments. The first thing he saw was a comfortable leather sofa facing some shelves for his collection of books. A large 21-inch TV nestled into the book cubby, and right next to it there was a desk where his computer could go; a place to play all those video games he loved.

" Shoot em dead", he said out loud, grinning, "shoot em all dead."

Now the only thing that remained was for him to load in the eight truckloads of pre-packaged food he had purchased recently from Costco Wholesale, enough to keep him alive for several years, and then he would be all set.

George wasn't one of those survivalists who had come to this recently. The ones that thought the economy were going to tank or hated the new President. Oh no sirree, he had been a prepper since his teens. He was preparing for the day a super volcano went off, or a solar flare hit the earth, or the grid went out. He was no fool, he had cashed in all of his retirement a few years back, and now he had purchased this giant corrugated pipe. Yes he was as ready as anybody he knew for Teotwaki (the end of the world as we know it).

What George knew, and what he counted on, was the grid going out. He surmised when that happened, industrial society would all be gone. As for his fellow human beings, he figured they would be transformed into barbarians. He was counting on that. Stupid fools, he thought to himself, most of them only have food for a week and what then? Then they come to me.

He rubbed his hands as he visualized all the rats leaving the city. That was what he called them, those city dwellers....urban rats. He would delight in using "stand your ground", justifiable lethal force, against them.

He had a collection of weapons that would have been sufficient to arm a SWAT team. He had bushmasters, automatics, pistols, handguns, and semi-automatics, even high-powered hunting rifles.

While George knew there was strength in numbers, he prided himself on his rugged individualism. Even though he might need 24/7 perimeter security, he preferred to face Teotwaki on his own, in order to avoid having useless mouths to feed.

George had no faith that he leant on to fuel and satisfy his inner life. For him, faith seemed to be merely a reliance on relativism by his fellow human beings, and he saw that as a road which could only lead them into violence and anarchy. And on top of that there was always the chance that in the chaos that came after Teotwaki, despotic, faith-driven, leaders would emerge, against whom he would of necessity and belief have to fight.

As well as his gun collection and his food, George had also been amassing medical supplies. It was not for nothing that he had taken first aid courses, and that he could administer shots to himself, stitch up wounds, and if necessary perform minor surgery.

And once it was all over, he would grow a huge vegetable garden each summer. His land sported rich topsoil, and with the right rains he would do all right; had done all right. And he knew how to weld and had his own oxyacetylene rig, as well as a wide variety of hand tools.

His pride and joy however was his night vision gear, and his intrusion detection sensors, as well as his stash of barbed wire and his defensive road cables. He could put those up across all the roads that led to his property. That would keep out those rats he thought, those useless others, which he had had to share the planet with for so long.

..........................................................................

Klaus and Fanny Korbanski had built their 70,000 square-foot reinforced concrete home with embedded helix fibers, in a rural area outside of Jefferson City, Missouri. Klaus had made his fortune there, as a software entrepreneur, and he and his wife Fanny wanted to invest in this ultimate SAFE home. The name for their home was Korbanskis' Castle, and it had 12 inch thick concrete walls and included ballistic-proof windows that had been tested to withstand the equivalent of a two-by-four board traveling at 40 miles an hour. These tests had been designed to make sure the windows could deflect debris hurtling through the air at full speed, just like it often did in a massive storm or a tornado.

The testing for the house construction materials had taken place inside a wind tunnel, while Fanny and Klaus watched from a protective shelter just inside the entrance wearing matching red goggles. The inside of the facility had been built to withstand 135 mph winds and was the size of nine basketball courts.

"Nothing can touch us in that house Fan" Klaus would say hugging his wife "we'll be safe there."

Besides tornados, Klaus and Fanny wanted to make sure that the home would be completely resistant to any intruders carrying semi-automatic or automatic weapons. In fact after the house was built, Klaus had been moved to found a company called SAFE, an acronym for Strategically Armored and Fortified Environments, where he charged over 10 million dollars for building homes just like his to an ever expanding customer base.

The Korbanski home was magnificent both inside and out. Outside it looked like a French Chateau, while inside it sported DaVinci like ceilings, painted with artificial clouds and cherubs. It included several spas, two movie theatres and enough provisions to keep the Korbanski family, including their two daughters Lydia and Alison, their two husbands Bert and Dombie, and their four children, entertained and fed for months.

Fanny Korbanski was particularly proud of their dirty bomb shelter, which came complete with an air and water supply. The house also had an escape tunnel that emerged several miles from their property in an open field, where happy cows now grazed. In addition a rooftop helipad allowed the family another emergency exit mechanism.

The luxurious bedrooms contained both bomb and bulletproof walls and doors. The entire house was fitted out with a facial recognition system fed by multiple cameras. Klaus had also insisted on installing a very sophisticated fog system that ranged from a harmless but disorienting substance to pepper spray, and finally to a noxious gas that could debilitate someone for a full 24 hours. The home's i-pad-controlled security system was completed by armored, and had rubber sealed doors.

"You see Fan", Klaus would tell his wife frequently, "this is impermeable, we can live here forever shut off from the rest of them, in a house like this Fan."

Korbanskis' Castle was also stocked with medical supplies including a bird-flu kit and other high tech medications for various obscure diseases such as Ebola.

"I can tell you Fan I paid a pretty penny for this to those guys in Ukraine", he told her.

The Korbanskis went to sleep every night in their bullet and bombproof master bedroom, side by side. Fanny Korbanski was a plump blond woman in her fifties with nicer than normal skin. She treated it with Botox regularly, and slept with a rejuvenating facial mask every night. She was not able to go to sleep as easily as she would have liked, because of her husband's loud whistles and grunts as he lay next to her, sprawled out in perfect contentment.

"After all", she often said to herself, " Bubby knows that no matter what comes along, we'll survive it."

Most nights Fanny's plump fingers covered in their diamond rings, would beat a complicated tattoo on the white satin bedspread in impatience and frustration, as she forced herself to fall asleep. Her face difficult to discern under its stiff, blue, Mexican mud mask.

While Klaus went off to work every day and reveled in building strategically safe and armored environments, Fanny would wonder around the 70,000 foot house behind the bullet proof windows, wondering how she should spend her day. Sometimes she called Lydia and Alison in NYC, who were both invariably busy, and would answer their phones while getting a latte at Starbucks, or talking to the nanny, or to the dog walker.

"Hi Mom, how are you, sorry have to rush, I'll call you later."

Their mother always knew by the background noise that they were distracted, and that she would be lucky to hear back from them. She didn't visit them often, because she didn't want to be far from home when disaster struck. She missed her grandchildren, but as she often told Klaus:

"I can't be away from my Bubby can I, when the end of the world comes?"

Fanny did not like to cook, so she would de-frost one of the gourmet, ready to eat meals (REMS) for their dinner every evening, and she would pour herself a small glass of cheap wine to accompany it.

She did not dare to invade her husband's wine cellar, where he was keeping stocks of "2004 Block 42," a wine entirely enclosed in glass. She knew there were only 12 limited editions of this glass, wine-encased, ampoule. The wine was made from Cabernet Sauvignon grapes, and was the most expensive wine directly sold from any winery in the world, selling for $168,000 a bottle. The glass casing was designed and hand blown by Australian glass artist Nick Mount.

She had often puzzled over this purchase, since she knew that along with this wine, a senior member of Penfolds Winemaking team would come and perform a special wine opening ceremony. Penfolds would ceremoniously remove the bottles from their plumb-bob casing, and open them using an exquisitely designed, tungsten-tipped, sterling silver, scribe-snap. The wine would then be served in a artisan crafted sterling silver tastevin.

Fanny would ask Klaus:

"Bubby, how will the Australian sommelier from Penfolds be able to reach our house if it's the end of the world?"

"Don't worry Fan, we'll fly him in by helicopter", he would reply, slapping her gently and playfully across the butt.

Even though Klaus was a collector of fine wines, he himself was a bourbon drinker, and he would always have a stiff one when he returned home. They usually topped off their evening by watching their movie-size television, with surround sound, in one of the two theatres that were strategically placed around the house.

Klaus would mainly watch sports and Fanny particularly liked to watch reality shows. Privately she thought the people in them were incredibly stupid, and she prided herself on her own pristine social behavior.

After watching TV together, they would retire to bed, where she would lie for several hours listening to her husband's snoring, while she finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Before she lost consciousness however, she would, from behind her blue, Aztec, mud mask, think how lucky she was, because no matter what happened to the world, she and her Bubby would always be safe.

...........................................................

Gail and Wes Altman had met in Wholefoods at the cheese counter. They had smiled at each other across the magnificent array of cheeses, because they immediately recognized they were fellow travelers along the same path in life.

It wasn't long after this auspicious meeting, that Wes asked Gail to marry him, and they tied the knot in Hawaii on a pristine beach under a canopy of white hibiscus. Gail had worn a dress made of natural hemp, and Wes had worn an indigo cotton shirt made in Guatemala, bought from Territory Ahead.

They had allergies to wheat, so the wedding feast was a delight of gluten free breads and quiches. Even the three tiered cake had been especially pre-ordered, and had been flown into the airport on Maui, from a small gluten and dairy free bakery that they patronized near their house in Cos Cobb.

Gail was a manager working in New York for one of the major marketing firms, and Wes was a venture capitalist who had made his fortune investing in technology start-ups. They commuted in to New York together and held hands everyday on the train.

Not long after their wedding, however, it was discovered that Gail had a fast-growing breast cancer. She was devastated upon finding out and after undergoing months of chemotherapy and radiation, her cancer went into remission. As a result of this near brush with death however, the couple decided to invest in an eight million dollar home, that would reduce their exposure to toxins and chemicals.

Once they had made this decision, they spent over two years researching materials that they would use to build their 7,800 square foot home, a massive structure that would have six bedrooms and eight bathrooms. The walls would all be of stone, broken up by large wooden-framed windows. The basement of the home would have a full driving range for Wes to practice golf, and could be accessed by a germ-free, acrylic-tube, elevator.

The Altmans decided they would use no PVC piping in the house and that all the pipes would instead be made of cast iron. They also made sure that all the water they used would be run through an elaborate purification system. On top of that, they decided to install a hospital-grade air filter system.

Most importantly they made sure that the house was mold-resistant, and covered all the interior walls with specially designed, mold resistant clay. Everything about the house was also designed to mitigate its environmental impact, from the geo-thermal heating system, to a roof garden of succulents that would help improve air quality. However, they both decided that they absolutely would not sacrifice their desire to avoid toxins and carcinogens, in order to achieve environmental purity.

After the happy couple had spent two years in their new home, Gail Altman told Wes:

"Honey, I'm pregnant."

Wes was a little frightened by this news, because he had flashbacks to his wife being ill, but generally speaking he was overjoyed. Seven months later they delivered a baby girl.

In line with their concern to keep disease and environmental impacts at bay as much as they could, they decided to perform a full genetic analysis of their daughter soon after she was born; it would only cost them about $10,000. As Gail said:

" It would be better for them to know now what they might face, rather than later."

They found that the mapping of the human genome could be done on their daughter for less than a teaspoonful of her blood. Once it was collected, giant computers then scanned all of her base pairs, looking for mistakes that might cause her disease in the future.

It was their bad luck that the genome sequencing from her mother turned up in their daughter. The doctor told them:

"Lisa, has inherited mutations in two genes BRCA 1 on chromosome 17, and BRCA 2 on chromosome 13. This means that she is five times more likely to develop breast cancer as an adult."

Neither Gail nor Wes knew what to do with this powerful information. However, what they told each other was:

"We must keep Lisa safe and away from any toxins that can exacerbate the onset of this disease."

They built her a bedroom that had a floor that was covered in toxin free, water-based finishes, and made sure that all manner of germ resistant materials were used in the fabrics and fibers of her bedding and curtains.

Gail decided not to send her to school right away, and made sure that whenever they went out, she wore a mask over her face to prevent her from being exposed to any harmful bacteria, that was so freely roaming, and attacking others in the outside environment.

In their dreams Wes and Gail saw all manner of small and large hazmats creeping across the surface of their daily lives. In quiet moments of conversation, they told each other:

"We will do whatever it takes to prevent Lisa from being exposed to carcinogens in the environment, even if it means keeping her mostly in the house and home schooling her."

Gail quit her job at the marketing firm to stay home with Lisa, and Wes had to travel into New York alone on the train. He missed holding his wife's hand, and he began to obsessively wash his hands all the time, in order to avoid transmitting germs, both to himself and to his family when he returned home.

Gail's sole obsession became her daughter's well being and health. They decided not to have any more children in case the mutant genes were passed along further. They rarely took Lisa to visit either of their parents, because they did not want to risk her becoming exposed to plastics, cleaners, or any of the things that they knew might cause the cancer to grow more easily.

The Mexican gardeners who came to tend the garden in the summer, used to observe a small, pale-faced child peering out of the windows at them. They would say to each other, pointing to their heads, when Gail's back was turned, "esta loco", and laugh. She paid them in cash and always wore rubber gloves over her hands, in case she accidentally touched them, and brought foreign-born germs back into the house.

It was a shock therefore that when Lisa turned ten, Wes was taken to the hospital with fluctuating blood pressure. He had passed out at work. The doctors told him that he needed to take high blood pressure medication, and that he should also take half a tab of klonopin daily to calm himself down.

After this occurrence, while he sat on the train riding into New York, he found himself frequently thinking about the quality of his life, and whether or not his and Gail's obsession with fending off disease at all costs, was a worthy one.

He missed going on vacation, and he thought longingly of their honeymoon on Maui, the warm sand beaches, the blue ocean, and the unencumbered access to the outdoors. He dreamed of taking Lisa by the hand and running into the waves with her. Throwing her up in the air, and hearing her shouts of delight as the fluffy water passed over her body. Of holding her close under the stars on a warm tropical night, and pointing out the Milky Way as it spun its unimaginably beautiful, white sprinkles across the dark palette of the sky.

As these thoughts would pass across his mind like assorted cumuli, he often caught himself wiping away a tear that had inexplicably found its way onto his cheek. Then he would get up quickly, and out of habit, go to the bathroom and wash his hands.

Books Worth Reading

SciFi Anthology #1

By James Bryron Love

A collection of 7 short stories about twisted worlds. Life is portrayed in the best and the worst that the universe has to offer.

Seven different stories that deal with human and non human alike

Is greed the same everywhere

Are all politicians ruthless

The happy endings only seem to happen in myths

When the heroes don't survive you know the universe is in for a rough ride

available at

Smashwords

Also available at other online eBook retailers

Start Gazer

By Therese A. Kraemer

This story depicts the life of a modern girl changing the life of a headstrong Indian living in the 1800's.

Essie Sherwood, living in the present, grows up loving hot-air ballooning and takes off on her first solo adventure. Caught in a whirlwind, she crash-lands on a cliff unhurt, but with a deflated balloon. Star Gazer, believing the balloon is a giant bird that will endanger his village has shot it down, but is confused to find a beautiful woman in the basket. Each believing the other an enemy, their first encounter is far from civil. After Star Gazer takes her to his village, his brother, the chief, orders him to take her to the nearest fort. Reluctantly, Star Gazer agrees knowing he has lost his heart to the white woman.

At the fort, Essie meets a scientist with a time traveling machine and the man agrees to take Essie back to her century. But, Star Gazer finds them and jumps onto the machine finding himself in the future. Soon they discover that the distant future has been changed and they have to return to the past, where their lives become more complicated

available at

Smashwords

Also available at other online eBook retailers

### Thought Food

By **James Blanchette**

Not a well kept secret

Metaphysics is a traditional branch of philosophy. The main concern of this philosophy is explaining the nature of being and the world that encompasses it. There are many branches and sub branches this discipline. Most important aspects deal with existence, cause-and-effect, space and time as well as possibility.

Originally, all philosophy was concerned with every aspect of science and the world surrounding the individual. Scientific questions were part of the metaphysics known as natural philosophy. With the advent of modern science and the scientific method, empirical, derived from experimentation, became the most accepted. Science in Latin simply means knowledge. By the end of the 18th century, the term science was used to distinguish the difference between the other forms of philosophy. This is how it exists to this day.

Metaphysics denotes philosophical inquiries that remain non-empirical and as a result, some would say that it has no value because it cannot be proved. That is up to debate and not all science rejects avenues of non-empirical data. How this is pertinent to now, is that philosophy; metaphysics and science have been around for a very long time. Since the first days when man looked into the sky and wondered not only what was up there but why.

Our understanding of the nature of the universe is extremely limited even though science makes advances on a daily basis. A minor fraction of knowledge is still all we have attained. Science and scientific theory abound in all fields and are often contradictory even though they may contain empirical data.

This brings us to some of the questions that concern the metaphysical. Back in 2006, if you believe the hype, a movie was presented revealing a major secret. This suggested that this information had been withheld from the general public and that very few people knew about it. Nothing could be farther from the truth; in philosophy, the concepts presented in the movie have been available for thousands upon thousands of years and have been suggested in many forms.

In the book, The Secret, as well as in the movie by the same name, data is not empirical but instead is anecdotal. That simply means, that the people that have been interviewed in the movie, believe that a fundamental change has taken place.

Many decades preceding the book and/or movie, a term was coined; the law of attraction, not to be confused with the physics principle of the same name, but still similar in principle. In the late 1800s, various aspects of thought were being approached, giving way to the New Thought Movement also known as Higher Thought.

How it is supposed to work, is that like attracts like. An example is that you want or need a new car and if that need or want is strong enough, a way to get the new car will materialize. A simple concept that seems to work for some people. Positive thinking is also based on this. The reason it is not a secret is because the concept has been around for a very long time. That concept has never gone away, never been hidden and in some cases glaringly obvious.

The concept of karma is millennia old. This goes back to Buddha and about 550 BCE. From Buddhism what we get is the concept that good things are rewarded by good things and bad things are rewarded by bad things. It seems to follow the concept of the law of attraction very well.

It goes back even further than that, to the Ionians, a group of philosophers in the 16th century B.C.E. they had vast philosophies about all aspects of the world. One of those philosophers way back then, was able to prove, not only that the sun did not rotate around the earth, in fact the earth rotated around the sun. Most of their philosophies were lost to history because of their disorganized manner and often diverse directions in their philosophies. Some of their philosophies of course dealt with the metaphysical and indeed, the concept was similar to Buddhism and karma.

So the concept is very, very old. The law of attraction isn't anything new and in fact, is quite ancient. Perhaps because most people merely survive on a daily basis, between their work and home, they have little time to devote to the philosophical.

The book and the movie have received a wide audience, appearing on Oprah several times as well as being high on the New York bestsellers list. It details what one woman went through after reaching the bottom in a downward spiral and then finding something to look forward to bringing her back upwards again. Although purely anecdotal, it reflects the fact that the basic system works. The only drawback is that it is presented as a secret and not as common knowledge.

Most people have heard these statements or something similar:

What goes around comes around.

You reap what you sow.

From the Bible New Testament, if you had the faith of a mustard seed, you can move a mountain.

There are hundreds of different statements, but all reflect the same general principle, a similar idea. Metaphysics perhaps takes it a step further.

Ironically, most cultures around the world have very comparable ideas, expressed perhaps in different words, but nonetheless, the concept seems standardized.

Some of the things that I've contended and said over the years are statements like this.

The internal picture, always matches the external.

Basis: how you view yourself is very important and most notably, the flaws that you perceive in yourself you will present to others. If you perceive yourself to be fat, is likely you will be because you're forcing the images to be one.

You have everything that you want, all of the time, if you don't like what you have, want something different.

Basis: this is a difficult concept for most people to align themselves with because it contains inherent blame. The cause of your misfortune is your own, but rarely does the individual want to take acceptance of that fact. They seek to blame others, circumstances and life in general for their current situation. By taking control and wanting a different life, things will change.

Thought becomes reality.

Basis: if you think about something enough, it has a tendency to happen whether that something is a positive or negative.

Every aspect of your life exists in harmony with your desires and your thoughts projected out become your reality.

Basis: very similar to the above concept, but more in tune with what you want in an offhand manner. The projections of your own thoughts become the reality that you live in.

There are many opponents to the law attraction and make statements that it's not provable and purely at anecdotal. It has never suggested that it wasn't anecdotal. People's experiences with life become the evidence of whether or not something is working or not. It's not likely to work for everyone, especially those that place no value in it in the first place.

We will make no attempt to debunk the debunkers; that represents a worthless gesture. Everything has opponents. Everything is painted both positive and negative; such is the state of existence.

It works for those that believe it works, that in itself represents a level of evidence, but only on an individual basis. That's what we're talking about anyways: life on a singular basis and not the masses.

The law of attraction is based upon a very simplistic concept an easy concept, but not without some work on your part. It is not enough to just simply haphazardly want something. It merely suggests that acquiring something might be good, requires a level of dedication in both the thought processes and lifestyle. What you want must be forefront in your mind and a reason for requiring it must be apparent. Dedication becomes the mainstay because most things don't happen overnight. On the strange side note, sometimes they do so the correct way of stating it, in that it will probably take a little bit of time.

That is, when dedication and focus become important, most things in life that require changes do not happen easily. Your worst enemy of change is you and not the particular circumstance that you find yourself in and not enough to simply have a list of positive thoughts. You have to direct your positive thoughts. Perhaps the best way to emphasize how the law of attraction works is to look at the opposite side.

Murphy's Law: what can go wrong; will go wrong. There exits a multitude of statements that are similar to that. Originally, it was directed towards the mechanical aspects of engineering but then is also proceeded into daily life. This particular law has been inferred in many forms. There is a huge quantity of books written about it, both for and against the given principal. Even some related episodes from comedy represent this law.

Fudd's first law: if you push something hard enough, it will fall over. This is taken from a comedy sketch by a group called Firesign Theater. It directly references the fact that you have an influence over matter. The suggestion is that you can negate this law by using a round object, such as a ball. The rebuff is that you are not pushing it hard enough.

Others Fudd's laws are just as comical, a suggestion of something so great in importance that it can only be used for good or evil. This suggests the axiom of positive and negative and how all things are both. Of course, most realize that these particular laws were vocalized for their comic portent, but even still, they have a given relevance to reality.

Being part of the metaphysical, the laws of attraction and/or whatever name you like to give it becomes a research project. Your research project has nothing to do with your neighbor, your wife, your kids, or any other person surrounding you. Is a personal search and is such; can only be conducted by you. Whether or not you see it as having an advantage to you, is totally up to you. In your own best interest, to seek answers, they must be your questions and not questions you are trying to answer for others.

There's a bit of science, behind metaphysics and it deals directly with quantum physics. Essentially if you look, the entire universe is nothing but various types of energy and you yourself are nothing more than energy; it can become more relevant and perhaps you can see using the physics law of attraction, how things can become possible.

It is known that particles interact with each other, seemingly over great distances, billions of miles and even further. Particles can also be microscopically close to each other and also interact. In physics itself, there are many things that become mysterious and unknown and as always, science seeks the optimal answer by using the best model possible. All models are inherently flawed because they cannot contain any and all idiosyncrasies to a given situation.

One of the novel approaches to particles, deals with shooting a particle at a given receiver to have it reflect off and land somewhere else. The most unusual note about this is that if you can predict the path, that path will happen. You don't have to go through all the work of the prediction itself merely stating that the prediction is possible. The particle now seems to be directly influenced by the researcher even though that should not be conceivable. Of course, that is the simplified version and a more complex answer is available if you take the time to research it.

Most certainly, under current state of understanding, there doesn't seem to exist any empirical data that suggest beyond doubt that the metaphysics law of attraction, truly works. I have already mentioned the fact that we know such a small fraction of possible knowledge, it may simply mean that we currently have no way to prove it one way or the other, but in the future proof may be attainable.

Let's look at this from an entirely new way.

You have nothing to lose; you can try it out for yourself and see what your results are. I don't suggest you take anybody's word that it is a secret, because it never has been and has never been restricted to a select few. Saying that it's a secret helped sell the DVD, helped book sales and thus, has taken the author from poverty to a better existence. That author found their way through positive thoughts and law of attraction has worked for them and perhaps, just perhaps, you can better your own life.

I'm not giving you a lot of answers on how to proceed, or even why to proceed, but if you do proceed, do a little research. Look for the anecdotal evidence; look into the case histories of various individuals. Google is flush with knowledge, some of it pertinent, some of it laughable but all in all; it should make for an interesting read.

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