

Literary Lunes Magazine

Volume 2

July/August 2012

L iterary Lunes Magazine copyright © 2012 Beth Ann Masarik & Literary Lunes Publications. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For information about reprinting, distributing, or otherwise sharing the contents of this book, please contact Beth Ann Masarik at info@literarylunes.com

First edition, July/August 2012

Originally published in paperback and e-book by Literary Lunes Publications

Smashwords Edition

Interior edited by Beth Ann Masarik

Cover design by Beth Ann Masarik

Literary Lunes Magazine

www.literarylunes.com

Literary Lunes Publications

www.literarylunespublications.com

Table of Contents

Letter From the Editor

By Beth Ann Masarik

Connect with us

Join our Mailing list

New and Improved

Special call for Submissions

Now Booking!

Don't Forget!

MarketShare: Book Trailers, To Have Or Not To Have?

By Angela Yuriko Smith

Tribute to Otherworld Publications

By Beth Ann Masarik, Cambria Hebert and Erin Danzer

Wacky Writers

Poetry Palooza

Poems by Terra Kelly & Jamie Danzer

Maybe

By Abbi Nguyen

"Tamed Tigers"

Matthew Wilson

An Angel Gets Her Powers

A Cassandra Serafin story (#1)

By Erin Danzer

Len and Smithy

By Carl Palmer

Terra-Firma Reviews

By Terry Kelly

There You Have It: My Opinion

By Cambria Hebert

Cherny's Corner

By Bob Cherny

Lunar Reviews

By Beth Ann Masarik

The Staff

Letter from the Editor

Dear Reader,

Thank you for downloading and or purchasing another edition of Literary Lunes Magazine. I cannot begin to tell you how much your continued support means to me. Because of your support, the magazine continues to grow and blossom. The publishing house website & blog is almost complete. You can now follow it at www.literarylunespublications.com.

With my wedding less than three months away, my schedule is going to be very tight for the next few months. It will be extremely important that everyone meet the upcoming deadlines.

This issue is jam-packed with short stories and book reviews. The next several issues will be filled with some amazing new material, including a new marketing column, and interviews from JKS Communications and several small press publishers.

There are only two more issues left for the year. I know, hard to believe, right? The next issue is scheduled to come out in the beginning of September.

I also want to remind everyone that we also have paperback editions available now on the Literary Lunes Publications website.

Well, that's all for now folks. Enjoy this issue of Literary Lunes Magazine!

Love,

Beth Ann Masarik

### C    onnect with us online!

JOIN OUR MAILING LIST!

Want the latest, up-to-date information regarding Literary Lunes? Join our mailing list by filling out the form below and sending it to info@literarylunes.com

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NEW AND IMPROVED!

I would like to invite you all to visit the new and improved Literary Lunes Publications blog and website, www.literarylunespublications.com. I recently changed servers, and because of the move, I lost all of the initial following. Therefore, if you were one of the original followers, the Literary Lunes Publications blog and website is now up and running again and I would greatly appreciate a re-follow.

I am also going to take this opportunity to let you all know that the Literary Lunes Magazine website is FINALLY complete. It is up-to-date, and there are some new submission guidelines, so please familiarize yourself with them if you plan to submit to us.

DEADLINE REMINDER

The next deadline for magazine submissions is August 21. Please see below for a special submission request.

SPECIAL CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

Literary Lunes Magazine is now accepting submissions for apocalyptic themed short stories and poems. The deadlines for the submissions are: August 21 for the September/October issue, and October 21 for the November/December issue. Please visit the Literary Lunes Publications website (www.literarylunespublications.com) for complete and official submission guidelines.

NOW BOOKING THE FOLLOWING

Literary Lunes Publications is now booking the following for their blog and future magazine issues: (Yes, we are now booking for the 2013 lineup)

Blog tours

Interviews

Guest posts (for the blog)

New columns

Guest articles (for the magazine)

DON'T FORGET!!!!!

Please don't forget that the Writings From the Heart charity anthology has been released! All proceeds will go to the Cohen Children's Medical Center of NY's pediatric cardiology unit. They have a new program that will help transition children into the adult world of cardiology, and the proceeds will be going towards education and research in this program. You can purchase the anthology in paperback through createspace for only $13.00, or in an electronic version for only $4.99 through Amazon Kindle, Barnes & Noble Nook, and Smashwords.com for all other formats.

Praises for Writings From the Heart:

One of my favorite poems would definitely have to be "My Shadow" by Alan D. Harris. And here is a little taste:  
"It follows me  
on sunny days  
but disappears  
in bright hallways"  
I've never been one for poetry but this poem is simply beautiful and amazing.

As for the short stories, I found a few that I really liked but one that I want to share with my lovely birds. It's called, The Princess and The Three Ugly Witches by Uzma Chaudhry. The names for witches (for which you'll have to read the book to find out) are hilarious. And they really are sisters in every way with all the bickering and laughing (or cackling in their case). I know it's a short story but I would like to know what would happen.

Now there are many storied and poems in this collection that are sad, painful, and yet many have that silver lining of hope on the horizon. They're just so full of raw emotion that you really wouldn't find when talking to the author face to face. I am definitely recommending this incredible collection to everyone. It's probably going to sound cheesy but it's a very hopeful book. Don't take my word on it, read it yourself.

~Martha

This anthology will have something for everyone. The short stories range widely in topic and are heartwarming and full of emotion, playful and funny. One of my favorites was the very first story, "Hiding in Plain Sight," though there were a few others I really enjoyed as well.

Though I'm not normally a huge fan of poetry, I really enjoyed the poems in this anthology. A couple of my favorites were "Invisible Scars" and "Succubus in Chains."

This book is for a good cause, so even if short stories and poetry is not something you usually read, give it a try. The proceeds from this collection will go to the Adult Congenital Heart Program at Cohen Children's Medical Center of NY for education and research in this area.

~Sheri from Making Connections

MarketShare: Book Trailers, To Have Or Not To Have?

By Angela Yuriko Smith

I hear a lot of discussion lately about whether or not book trailers are effective marketing tools. This is a foolish question. That's like asking if a shovel is an effective tool. Of course it is, unless it's poorly made. In my opinion, the question should really be 'how they are effective', not 'if'.

Any possible thing you can do to share your message is valuable. Asking if a book trailer can help you market your book is like asking if you should put a For Sale sign in front of a house for sale. Can a trailer grab attention? Can it be easily sent by a variety of methods that can potentially go viral? Then it can help market your book.

Book trailers can attract attention faster and more effectively than other methods. They can be shared in blog posts, YouTube, Pinterest, Google+, Twitter and on your professional author profiles, to name a few.

People may not have time to read a guest post or review but a minute long trailer is an easy and entertaining hook. I've often said that if a picture is worth a thousand words, then a good book trailer is worth ten thousand.

Many trailers are rendered completely ineffective, however, because creators lose the point. The purpose of a book trailer is to create interest and tell where to find your book. Many of the trailers I see out now will either be too bland or lack the vital 'where to find' info. Let's be honest; the average internet user has a short attention span and a lot competing for it.

Your trailer needs to grab attention, excite and then tell where to find more. If you miss any of these things, then it is not going be an effective tool. A trailer is a gateway to your literary world. The same as for a movie trailer, you need to think and design it dynamically.

Here are some trailers I've seen lately. My intention isn't to pass judgment on anyone's trailer, but rather to allow you to see a selection in all price ranges and see for yourself what works and what doesn't. Some of these cost nothing, and two cost nearly $2,000. Whatever your budget, you can have an effective trailer as long as you remember its purpose: grab attention and redirect. Book trailers should grab attention, leave the viewer with a question and most importantly, tell where to find the book.

Watch the following and let me know what you think. What works? What doesn't?

1.  Malaika by Van Heerling

2.  The Highlander Trilogy by Maya Banks

3.  The Spy Who Left Me by Gina Robinson

4.  It's a Book by Lane Smith

5.  Inside Realms by A.F. Stewart

6.  My own trailers for End of Mae and No Money Marketing.

About the author: Angela feels passionate about promotion. Too often she has witnessed an excellent creation be forgotten due simply to a lack of marketing. Creative people tend to dislike the more mundane tasks of advertising or suffer from a lack of disposable funds. Angela seeks to remedy this with the publication of her book, No Money Marketing. Every idea she tried out herself on her first novella End of Mae. There is the proof that authors can market their work and they don't need big budgets to do it. Both books are available in paperback and all e-formats. Angela can always be found thru her blog, dandilyonfluff.com.

A sad day in publishing-tribute to Otherworld Publications

By Beth Ann Masarik

Writing is something that I have ALWAYS done. Granted, I wasn't always very good at it, but, it was something that I loved to do when I was little. In fact, it is something that I still love to do. When I was fifteen years old, I wrote my first book, although, it wasn't very good.

However, it was that one book that made me realize that I was meant to be a writer and that I wanted to be published.

When I was in college, I embarked on the journey to become an author. That was when I became serious about writing, and in 2008, I entered my very first NanoWrimo contest. Of course, I didn't win that year, but that book became what you guys know as The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness.

This was the first book that was ever published thanks to the wonderful, Lynn Calvert of Otherworld Publications.

In the Summer of 2010, I submitted The World Among Us: Prince of Darkness to Lynn, and she had asked me for a full manuscript! Of course I was excited! I had received so many rejection letters from literary agents and was honestly starting to doubt my talents as an author. When I received Lynn's acceptance letter, I was on Cloud Nine.

During the time that I've gotten to know Lynn and the staff of Otherworld Publications, we've had many ups and downs. That's to be expected with any business, right? We've all had our good days and our bad days, but the good times that I've had with Lynn outweigh the bad.

We were all one big happy family.

That was until a few weeks ago when I received the heart-wrenching email from Lynn telling her authors the bad news: she will be closing Otherworld Publications on December 31, 2012. My heart sank, the walls began to close in, and my dreams of being a published author soon shattered. Otherworld Publications was closing? Immediately, I began to panic. I asked myself, "what was I going to do now? What about my current titles that Lynn had published? What's going to happen to my Otherworld family? And more importantly, what was going to happen to Lynn and the OWP staff?"

Naturally, I became depressed and saddened. It didn't help things that I was beginning to feel the stress of wedding planning, and now this was thrown on top of it all. I felt like I had been thrown under a bus.

BUT, I also knew that Lynn had to have been feeling worse than all of us. Much...much worse. In fact, when I emailed her back, she told me that she had just been crying over her decision. I don't blame her at all. It was a very difficult decision to make.

Otherworld Publications may not have been very well known and a very small press, but Lynn Calvert and the others involved with this great franchise have all touched my heart in some way or another. Lynn was the one who jump-started my career as an author, and for that, I am very thankful and grateful.

Lynn, you and the staff of Otherworld Publications will be missed, and none of us will ever forget how you've touched our lives.

I'd like to leave you all with some words from your talented authors...

Otherworld Publications

By Cambria Hebert

When I first set out to become published I got a lot of rejections. The mail box became a source of letters with the word NO inside. My email inbox was stalked and the refresh button used so repeatedly that sometimes I think I heard it weeping...

But I never gave up.

I am a writer. A writer has to pay their dues, become an "artist" that knows rejection and pain... yeah, I know.... BAH HA HA HA.

But still those thoughts got me through a couple years of trying to get published, trying to get an agent and just trying to get someone to read anything that I wrote...

After about two years I got tired. Tired of hearing no and frustrated that I was hearing no before anyone would give my manuscript a chance.

I started focusing more on smaller publishing houses and I found Otherworld Publications. I sent off a query and the manuscript to them and then I said a prayer. Six long months went by and I just figured that they were not interested. Since that time I submitted to another publishing house and was rejected.

But then I got an email. Lynn over at Otherworld Publications was interested in publishing my book.

I cried.

Like a baby.

LOL.

And that is when my transition from writer to author began. Being a writer is a solitary thing but being an author is something that takes a team of people. I was lucky enough to have quite a bit of support for my first novel, Masquerade, published in December of 2011. My publisher was Otherworld Publications.

I have to say that I now know that I had quite a unique deal with Lynn and OWP. They aren't like a lot of the publishing houses (small presses) out there. Lynn truly wanted to just help authors get their books out there. We never spent time debating over the cover, the content, a certain thing because Lynn was always behind me and the message I wanted to send with my book.

She gracefully allowed me to have my own cover designs and she even hired on an editor that I loved to work with (this was because the editor is talented not because of me).

Lynn was generous with royalties and was always willing to answer my questions when I had them.

I learned a lot about publishing during my first publishing experiences with OWP. I am so grateful that Lynn gave me and my series a chance. Without that chance I might still be getting rejections letters. Sometimes all a person needs is a chance. Sometimes they just need someone to say "I believe in you". I think that is what OWP stands for.

I have to say when I found out that OWP was closing its doors I was sad. A very happy chapter in my life is about to close... but I will move on with all the knowledge that Lynn and the staff at OWP taught me.

Even though the doors to OWP are closing doesn't mean that everything about the small publishing house will end. I think that pieces of OWP will live on in all the authors they worked with, all the books they once put out and all the people they inspired.

Thank you to Lynn and the staff at OWP for giving me a path to realize my dream and for giving me a chance. You certainly gave me something that no one else would.

I wish Lynn and staff the very best in where her next journey takes them and just know that while OWP might be closed... the people you inspired will live on.

Cambria Hebert

Author of the Heven and Hell Series

OWP Published novels:

Masquerade (Heven and Hell #1)

Charade (Heven and Hell #2)

OWP published novellas:

Before (Heven and Hell)

Between (Heven and Hell #1.5)

Whiteout (a paranormal romance)

Thank you

By Erin Danzer

I just want to thank Lynn for giving me a chance. Even though our publishing history was very brief, I am forever grateful to her for saying 'yes' to me and everything that happened after. Even after finding out OWP is closing its doors, Lynn directed me to another publisher where my book would fit in. Without her taking a chance on me, I would not be where I am now. So Thank You, Lynn, for everything you've done for me.

~ Erin :)

Wacky Writers

Write a short story that is 10,000 words or less about a character, or set of characters celebrating their independence from something or someone.

Poetry Palooza

Be You

by Terra Kelly

Be You

My daddy called me princess

he promised me a prince

I read all the stories

like Cinderella

fucking Cinderella

I believed all those lies

I believed all those promises

All those stupid fairy tales

listen to me girls

don't believe in the dream

there are no magic men

no one will sweep you off your feet

a kiss will not overcome death

if you believe in that then all you will have is broken dreams

if you have to believe then believe in yourself

pick up your own pieces

fight to make your dreams come true

don't wait for someone to hand it to you

Because no one will save you

No one but you

be your own princess

be your own prince charming

be you

"Changed"  
By Jamie Danzer

A side of me I never knew existed  
Came alive late one night  
All was quiet in this realm  
Until you knocked upon my door  
And though I did not answer  
For I did not know who was there  
You took your cue anyways  
Unlocking the door, you entered  
There was something about you  
Something I could not explain  
Mysterious and captivating  
On a rather intriguing level  
You looked vaguely familiar  
Image the same as I remembered  
But something inside had changed  
I saw a piece of me within you  
That even though you looked the same  
I knew that you had changed
Maybe

By Abbi Nguyen

The secretary was able to track down three of the women on May's list. She had sent them invitations to meet at May's house at seven pm in Tan Duc, an industrial park outside the city. Each woman reacted differently to the perfumed card—some with nostalgia, others with a surprising rancor they didn't realize they had. But all of them were curious, and would not miss it.

Since the group parted after their university graduation, they had not bothered to keep in touch. What for? May knew their attempt would be futile against each other's calculating measure of friendship. How beneficial were they to each other?

Soon the newspaper would publish an article on May's life. An investigation was necessary for all possible candidates of the national assembly deputy position. Honor, integrity, leadership. Has May been an exemplary woman all her life? The party members needed to know.

Not a trace of imperfection for the past ten, eleven years. She knew it was not enough—

Quyen married her economics' professor. She found out just because he taught the subject didn't mean he endorsed it. Quyen was slightly indignant but did not contradict him. Having a degree was enough, if there were children in the future, they would not think their mother was ignorant. Quyen hung the diploma above the television set. Between commercials, she would glance up, admiring the cursive. How many years has gone by already? Ten? Twenty? It couldn't have been that long because there were still no baby cries in the house. Quyen let out a deep sigh. It was two in the afternoon, five hours till the rendezvous. She pushed at the buttons on the remote nervously, flipping channel after channel. It didn't take too long before she saw May's face. She was giving a speech about the importance of education for Vietnamese youth. In the audience, Quyen spotted the president and the prime minister. On both sides of the stage hung the national flag, and one for the Communist party. Quyen disliked the color red. It was everywhere, a hot color, of fire.

Why couldn't they have picked blue or white? May's outfit looked expensive—a purple silk blouse and tight fitted knee length skirt. Quyen had seen it on the mannequin at the new shopping mall in District One, a beautiful outfit—elegant, professional. Everything that May was.

Quyen remembered the day Hung proposed to May. She didn't even know they were in a relationship.

Hung was a class above them and had already graduated. He still came to the school at lunch time to meet with the girls. Quyen thought that it was her he was interested in. He asked her many questions, looked at her eyes and listened attentively to the details of her life. She didn't guess that he only wanted to make a good impression because she was May's best friend.

The other girls were not surprised. May had many admirers, but they had all seen them turned down sweetly, quietly with such polite and tact that the men barely noticed they had just been denied.

'How did he propose?' Quyen inquired.

'He tied some grass together and put it on my finger.' May smiled bashfully.

'Oh, come on. Are you serious?'

'He has an artist's soul. Don't be nasty.' May's browns gathered into a stern expression.

Quyen confessed that she wanted to be happy for May except she had expected to be the one Hung would ask. 'As long as I'm your friend, nobody will look at me,' she cried. May shushed her and gathered Quyen's head onto her lab, 'If you want to marry, that's easy.'

Quyen went on a string of dates with the professor. May arranged it skillfully. 'You're his favorite student. I only gave him a small push.'

Quyen was engaged within six months and married even sooner than May.

Quyen dialed her husband on the phone. Hey honey, what is the code for our safe? Oh nothing, it's an emergency expense. What? No, I need something to wear. It's an important meeting with May, the one that introduced us. Quyen twisted the knob excitedly. They have been saving up for a while for the baby. But when her father-in-law refused his ginseng medicine and passed on a few months later, they'd had to withdraw seven million dong. She thought the whole ceremony a big waste. Both the dead and the mahogany coffin got burned up into fine powder. Quyen had wanted to sob then but the furnace was blasting with heat, she couldn't keep her eyes open even for her worried tears to seep through. But today was not a day for grief, today was a day of new expectations. Getting married was the most excitement she'd had, but after so many years, even the most romantic relationships wane. Quyen didn't know what she needed, but she knew May would.

***

May put the incense into the ceramic bowl on her husband's shrine. The smoke smelled of a mixture of cinnamon and wood. It burned her pupils but she kept her eyes open. You couldn't love me now even if you were alive.

May looked at her watch, the metal band cold and thin, the face engraved in diamonds. She tried to wiggle her toes but the shoe cap held them tightly in place. Her feet felt like marble, stiff and callous. She had started wearing high heels after he died. Thirteen years. Without thinking, she had gone to the funeral barefoot, hands cradling the new life growing inside her. You're a father! I wish I could have told you. Her eyes were stunned as if the realization had hit her then dispersed like a dream, then hit her again over and over until her face was numb. The family of the trucker who crashed into her husband's moped sent a million dong in compensation. It was enough for two months rent. May couldn't blame them, poverty struck everyone the same way.

She gave birth alone. Her mother was there, but in the hallway, afraid of blood. The ceiling was blue, with thick lump of paint hanging from the flat surface like rain drops. She struggled to scream, instead gritted her teeth and cried sharp, salty tears. She cried as if she were not giving birth, but of another pain altogether. When she stopped pushing, the doctor administered anesthesia and glided a sharp metal blade into her belly. The baby tore its way out of her. It choked on air and screamed a piercing wail. The nurse shuddered and deposited the baby into May's arms. She put its head close to her neck. The baby's cry drowned out her own and she was calm.

Tonight May would reunite with her girl friends from college. She felt as if a new buds had blossomed inside her. As chairwoman of a billion dollars corporation, not much could excite her. She had reformed the education system in Vietnam, accompanied the president on business trips. The board had chosen her as businesswoman of the year five consecutive times. As she got older, her accomplishments did not dwindle as it often did with many others, but only became greater in size and value. Yes, she was successful, more so than she could ever imagine as the young girl of fifteen years ago. She remembered putting the flame over her notebook, filled with poems and vague dreams. Her best friend Quyen had stolen it out of her bag and read it out loud in class. There were a few gentle chuckles but nobody laughed. They were good poems, some of her classmates had said. Yet she had felt humiliated—watching her private thoughts debased by the others' vulgar, careless comments. Now, she sometimes wished to have such simple things to cherish. But poetry never entered her mind. As her sharp metal Chanel heels crushed the dry, summer leaves, she didn't stop to contemplate it—as if—poetry, its beauty and secrets, have all been burned up with the pages of that notebook.

The housekeeper bustled around to prepare dinner—snails boiled in lemon grass and salted duck eggs—the girls' favorite. They used to sit for hours on the sidewalk restaurant, poking at the snail's tail with a toothpick. When one of them managed to pull out the entire snail without breaking bits off, they would give it to each other. May waited impatiently. The girls would be here in about an hour.

Thuy was the first to arrive. May almost didn't recognize her if not for the curious, insecure way she still checked herself, then looked about, constantly wearied of potential watchers. Her dark hair rested on her shoulder in large waves, not a streak of gray. She wore a sheer, long sleeve tunic tugged inside a fitted skirt. Her figure was striking—She had lost considerable weight since graduation.

Before greeting her friend at the entrance, May checked her reflection—her own hair was up in an elegant bun, her daughter had taught her how to do. It appeared complex but simple enough to manage without a helping hand.

'Holy—, May! Look at this place. May! Where the hell are you?'

May sighed, feeling the anxiety swept from her. Thuy was still Thuy after all, and May needed that.

'You look stunning.' May opened her arms for an embrace but Thuy continued to look up and down the house, her eyes shining with excitement. 'You got one of those chandeliers! Where did you get it May? France? I was there last Spring...' Finally, she turned and faced May, 'I miss you,' she said solemnly.

They walked down the corridor together. 'You haven't aged a day,' they kept saying to each other, then blushed and rubbed their nose when the compliment was returned. After praises were spent, they began on the furniture—pointing out the white frame around a picture of a house in the snow. How considerate of you to notice. Then both were silent, overwhelmed by the years which hung between them like stalagmite, too precious to break off. They had plenty of reasons to separate—they never agreed on love or politics, one of them had a child and the other didn't. Yet as they walked, close enough to smell the other's perfume but not ask about it, they silently prayed that maybe, maybe it wasn't too late.

They reached the dining room and raised their voices to match the commotion of the servers going back and forth from the kitchen.

Tentatively, May asked, 'How is the kid? Must be all grown up by now?'

'I wouldn't know,' They stared at a white wall across the room.

May waited, letting her stomach stirred then settled.

'I gave him up,' Thuy said, her face pale, her forehead slightly wrinkled. She darted toward the feast on the table. 'Mm, yum,' she picked up a piece of roasted pork with her fingers, sandwiched it between two slices of sweet bread and took a bite.

May took Thuy by the arms, 'Come on, we can eat when the others get here. Let me give you a tour of the house.'

May remembered when Thuy gave birth, she and Quyen were checking the announcement board to see which master program they had gotten into. 'Poor Thuy,' they agreed, she had gotten better grades than both of them on her entrance exam, but that was irrelevant now. Upon receiving a phone call from Thuy's father, they rushed to the hospital on Quyen's moped. Her family had been more wealthy than May, who rode to school each day on a bicycle she inherited from her grandfather.

They held onto each other as they walked down the brightly lit hall. Neither wanted to acknowledge they did not want to be there, to look into their friend's rheumy eyes, and coddle the unfamiliar presence in the room. What do you say to a baby? Yet as they reached the door, they felt enlivened by a new smell. What is it? Milk streaming from a mother's breasts? or the soft, fleshy skin of a newborn?

But they did not come in right away, their heels held steadfast outside the door frame. They were startled by a picture, as if ripped out of a catalogue—a man leaning over their friend's bed, he held her hand in his, and rested his lips on her soft blue veins. Quyen spoke first, 'Hung?' May watched her fiancé's expression—anxious, oblivious of his surrounding, yet focused and tense. Expectant. May swallowed and walked in.

The stairs spiraled up to the blue ceiling, painted with nude angels. Two years ago when the house was built, journalists and photographers had come from all over the country to study the architecture. Seven bedrooms in total. Who were they for? My parents. My daughter, the nanny, the driver. Is your daughter home? Can we interview her? No, she studies abroad.

The truth was her daughter was married. Hearing May had included her room in the new house, decorated with old dolls and dusty yearbooks, she had feigned polite gratitude. It did not bother May. The house was made of stone, like a cathedral, it would be here for many more decades, long after her daughter's marriage deteriorated. Human relationships could not outlive the waste of time, May knew that, especially romantic ones, too ethereal for this world. Only maternal love was unconditional, and only what was unconditional, was strengthened rather than destroyed by the endlessness of time.

May let the reporters look through every room, even open drawers if they needed to. Clean, empty drawers, not even dust bunnies. They glanced at them quickly, jotted lines down their notebook then walked away, bored and disappointed.

Thuy was astonished at each spacious bedroom, fully furnished, color coded, and themed. Yet realizing their extreme tidiness, she turned to May and spoke softly,

'Do you live here alone?'

'I'm not the one who needs help Thuy,' May snapped accusingly.

'I knew you would be furious at me. That's why I couldn't tell you. But—I thought you would be relieved too.' Thuy grabbed a stuffed rabbit from the bed and hugged it close to her chest.

'Do you remember Khanh?' Thuy continued.

'Of course. She is the only one beside you and Quyen who isn't out of town.'

'Khanh's dead, May. I thought you knew.' Thuy threw the stuffed rabbit back on the bed. 'Her husband left her. She went crazy supposedly. She was always a bit nut, wasn't she?'

'A bit,' May replied, 'That's cause she loves too much and too diversely. She was smitten with all of us, at one point or another—'

They had been flat mates before May were married. Khanh had begged her not to go through with the wedding. They could continue to live together like they have since freshman year of college. He is not worth a strand of your hair. Khanh wept but May did not feel sorry for her, it was time for them to become women, not girls anymore. In a way, May thought that her release would teach Khanh independence.

Khanh was free now, perhaps not in the way May had thought, but what was the difference? 'Always drawing attention to herself,' May thought bitterly. She wouldn't take any less, always present, always profound, then exiting in that manner—theatrically—not lingering like the rest of us. Not lingering at all.

'I should have stayed with her.' May's voice quivered, smiling mournfully.

'She was a grown woman. She was capable of a lot more than you thought.' Thuy lifted the curtain and looked down to the street. 'She adopted my child,' Thuy breathed on the glass window, and traced her finger over the fog.

'What—Why would she do that?' May chuckled, the sound full of irony.

'I know. It's hard to believe. Everyone thinks we hate each other.' Thuy laughed, 'I think she put up with me for your sake. I suspect she adopted the child for your sake too.'

After Thuy and the baby fell asleep, Hung and May walked back to the university to collect May's bicycle. A large cloud hung like dark grey smoke over rooftops, almost touching, almost crushing them with its weight. Hung lit a cigarette, barely put it over his lips, then dropped it to the pavement, his foot crushing the brown tobacco leaves, 'Sorry, I know you don't like it.'

May shook her head, smiling wistfully, 'That's the least of my worries.'

'I only care about you,' he grabbed her hand. His fingers were frigid.

'You're a father now.' She said sternly. The sun only started to fall from the sky, yet she could already see the moon—transparent, almost invisible, yet impossible to ignore.

'No. Not yet—Not until it's our child,' he tried to pronounce each syllable distinctly, depending entirely on the crisp words to evince his loyalty. He was a hard man. The type who did not falter.

May was startled by his growing weakness, his desperation. She put one hand over her empty stomach, what's the point? She felt more angry at Thuy, for robbing her of the chance of being the first mother, the first to carry and perpetuate their love.

'I still want to marry you,' his voice was high-pitched, almost to the point of begging.

'That's good.' May swallowed. She did not want to speak anymore. Looking down at the gravel, Hung's shadow was stretching upward, towering over her.

'Everything is as before,' she hurried ahead of him, 'but I want the child. I should be the one to raise him.'

***

The dogs got up from their nap and ran to the front gate. They could hear the approaching vehicle. 'I think Quyen's here,' Thuy closed the curtain and started for the door. May followed.

They both could not contain themselves and hastened outside the house. For a second, the headlights of the cab blinded her eyes so May could only see the outline of a small, plump figure. The pastures from both sides were illuminated, as well as the rows of factories leading up to the iron gate.

Quyen stepped from the cab, slung a handbag over her shoulder and said, 'Can I get a taxi from here late at night?'

May nodded, 'Yes, if not my driver will take you.'

'I thought you weren't going to show, Quyen!' Thuy said abruptly, dispelling the approaching silence.

'Are you hungry?' May asked, stopping herself from staring—Quyen's shoulders slacked, her hair groomed yet wiry, her eyes drooped lazily. The only features still youthful were her hands—long and slender fingers, inert hands.

'Maybe later,' She said distractedly, 'This is crazy. Is all of it yours?' Quyen gestured toward the industrial park. At night, they looked like abandoned buildings.

'About a thousand acres from where we're standing ' May said with pride, this was something she knew well.

'Do you mind if we walk around? I feel a little sick from the drive,' Quyen said shyly, still avoiding eye contact.

Thuy laughed. She could always do that, then walked up and linked her arm with Quyen's. 'Come on,' she waved for May.

The three shadows, arms in arms, like laughing children, strolled away from the house into the darkness. For a few seconds, before their eyes were adjusted, the gaps between them ceased. They spoke in their girlish voice, not letting go of each other. For now, they could not see the lines dispersing on their forehead, going nowhere, or the hollow echoes of the years scratching at them. They were free to be girls.

The banyan tree was older than anything inside the industrial park. Around here the soils were rich, unattended grass grew past a human head. On Sunday, the workers went around the side walls of the factories cutting down bright green weeds that sprung up as fast as they were removed. The tree grew from its roots, which hung from the branches, expanding like hundred of arms hovering only a few inches from the earth. One cannot cut down a banyan tree, it would not be only one trunk that the lumberjack would have to axe, but many more. A sturdy structure, the tree grasped on tightly where it stood—it grew its own family, with different stocks yet forever connected, never alone.

Quyen leaned against the tree trunk, waving away the smoke that fell from Thuy's cigarette. Every time she inhaled the bitter nicotine, both Quyen and May held their breath—they watched her, fascinated, entranced in the motion of her slender fingers flicking off the ash, then again raising the cigarette to her lips—in and out, its orange burn the only light in the darkness. Thuy's lipstick had almost completely faded now, revealing her bare, dark lips.

'Did you visit her? Help her? She would have needed it' May smoothed the curls on her temples. Without the blaming light of day shining on their faces, she felt safe to ask questions.

'I didn't want to confuse who the baby's mother was—from that moment on.' Thuy cleared her throat, her voice was heavy, a weight dropped down on the night's stillness.

'She needed you.' May repeated, 'She had no one.'

'She didn't want to see us,' Quyen spoke quickly, 'She said we were a bad influence. She was waiting for you to claim the child. I don't think she planned to keep it. Not at first.'

'Why didn't you tell me? Why—' May broke off. Could she have done any different? It was too much at the time, too much. After Hung's funeral, she had not spoken to anyone, not even her family. All of them had tried so hard to convince her to get rid of the baby barely growing inside her. They haven't seen you, yet they already deserted you. But perhaps they were right—the child was not a child, more like an expanding shadow. No matter how much May tried to love her, she could not compensate for the absence of the father. A partial child, a fatherless phantom, she fled as soon as she was out of my womb. Never was mine.

'We thought it was better for you—we assumed you wouldn't want to hear the mention of that child ever again. After all—' Quyen looked at Thuy expectantly, but Thuy pretended not to acknowledge her friend's gaze and continued turning the cigarettes upside down then reinserting them into the pack.

'Things happened so fast. One minute we were all together, the next—' Quyen continued.

'Alone,' May replied.

***

The three of them could have been happy. They were eager to begin—the life they thought unlived, postponed while they were at school. May too had dreamed of that world—a room filled with men in stuffy collars and checkered ties, business deals signed over champagne and caviar, not many women yet, but soon. Had she got what she wanted—the eye of the public that glazed her with power and admiration—not as a woman who has made it, but a woman wearing the shell of a man. As she stood beside the girls, their gaze fluttered past her stiff posture, the square shoulder pads hiding her small frame underneath. She could tell they were impressed at first, but only for a moment, before memories flooded back into them and they saw her. She too, startled at her love for them, regret that it couldn't have been rendered differently, so it seemed not love, but blame, contempt, fear too.

The neighborhood was tidy—neat alley ways paved in red bricks and little children art murals on ceramics inset on the wall. Thuy took lead. The path was small, only enough for one person to fit through in a single line. Quyen and May followed behind. In the corner of an apartment stairwell, a vagrant with peppered beard sat, singing a quiet hymn.

'Does anyone live here sir? This used to be Khanh's house.' Thuy inquired.

The old man scratched his chin as if awoken from a trance and looked at them. May felt shy of his moist eyes, a cloudy white, stared at them unblinking. 'We used to go to college together,' she offered.

'Ah,' he breathed, baring his tobacco teeth, 'I know Khanh. You think I'm blind and stupid but I can still hear. This whole block knows. Some of the family moved away after—afraid of bad spirit. What do you want?' He paused then spoke again suddenly, sounding alert, 'Who else's there? I know there are three of you. Speak up.'

'Sorry,' Quyen murmured, 'I'm Quyen. We're looking for her son. Does he live here?'

'Upstairs,' he coughed, his whole frame shook. Waving his finger upward then dropping his arm onto his lap, he started humming again—seemed to have forgotten them.

'Thank you,' May pushed a bill into his trembling hand. She turned to look at the girls, half afraid they would disappear, half hoping they would.

Unsteadily she climbed the metal staircase then knocked twice on the front door pealing with green paint.

A ghost opened the door. May introduced herself to keep from gasping. He smiled at her—uncertain—his curly head tilted slightly to the right as if confused. His bright eyes were of both kindness and mischief. Just like his father.

The women stepped at once into what was both a bedroom and kitchen. There was a single stool at the window sill, stack of books and papers strewn on the floor, a half full glass of water. The place hadn't changed much, different paint for the walls maybe, tidier. The bunk bed May and Khanh used to share was gone, replaced by a folded couch. 'I'm preparing for the university entrance exam,' Liem explained.

'Ah,' May breathed out, 'Which one?'

'Business School,' he chuckled dryly, 'if I can get in,'

The girls nodded in approving silence. Thuy had taken a seat on the stool, cracking the window slightly then lighting her cigarette. The boy was apprehensive, shrinking from her, putting a distance between them in the crowded room.

'Your mother—you both lived here,' May spoke, not intending for it to sound like a question.

'Sure,' the boy turned away, hiding his face, 'I have seen you before Mrs. May, on the news, that's right. How did you know my mother?'

May looked at Quyen, who was fingering a paper swan on the floor. Thuy was still at the window, on her second cigarette. It seemed nothing could ever move her from that spot.

'We were best friends.' The words finally escaped her. She let them pull at her, then drop carelessly into the clean, white room. She inhaled, tried to detect a scent—any hint that a crazy woman might have lived here. Instead she could only picture Khanh sitting on the sofa, (the sheet might have been a different color (pink nylon?), swaying the boy to sleep. Khanh—with frail arms bearing the burden of another, waiting hopelessly for them who didn't show up. Then spiraling into what they called madness around here. But May knew better, she had been there before. Months after the funeral, she could not sleep without hugging the shorts Hung had worn the night before the accident close to her chest, bracing herself on the too large bed, running to the door whenever the bell rung, expecting to see him there. Hope. Pure hope that only escalated as the waiting got longer.

'I'm sorry Liem,' Quyen cried suddenly, face buried in her palms.

'Oh don't. It was so long ago,' the boy said with patience.

'It was nobody's fault. Nobody.' He repeated, accentuating the syllables the way Hung had once done.

'That may be true,' Thuy said inaudibly so her voice sounded like a soft echo, 'It may as well—like reading a piece of news on the paper true, like not being here true.' She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but the silence was gone from the room. Liem had walked to the kitchen sink, toppled over a pile of dishes, and refilled his cup with water. May thought perhaps he had not heard Thuy, or did but regarded it as the mumble jumble of a stranger, but worst not a complete stranger, the type one could discuss the weather with, but a distant connection—imposing enough to make him uncomfortable.

'I need to get back to my studies.' He said with a sudden indifference.

Out of the corner of May's eyes, she saw Quyen blinked, startled at the boy's abrupt aloofness. She wiped her tears on her sleeve and stood.

The three women stepped from the room. Dismissed like school children. May felt the door slam behind them.

Over the bridge May stood, listening to the humming of an ice cream cart. It was barely morning, the open horizon still a deep blue with soft particles of light. Leaning over the rail, May watched pouches of dust explode into millions of sparkling grains. They didn't have a favorite spot, not really. As a young couple, she and Hung, like hundred of other lovers, had parked the bicycle dangerously close to traffic to get a glimpse of the silvery water. On their first date, she had tried to say something clever, ask deliberate questions to create an atmosphere of falling in love. At the city, bubbling with electricity, she pointed 'Which is your favorite light?' She did not want him to forget this moment. He stretched his arm upward then around her waist but didn't speak. 'Hm?' she asked again, impatient. 'I'm thinking,' he said, his eyes were focused, studying the individual light. This was why she loved him.

She no longer remembered what his answer was. That whole day was shedding away from her bit by bit. Slices of memory replaced by their painful silence a year later. He did not ask her to forgive him. She already had by agreeing to come to the bridge. He was trying to forgive himself first, she could tell. Perhaps it was the way he cupped his hand over his cheeks and pulled downward, looking defeated, that convinced her he truly didn't mean it, he made a mistake. But still she did not feel sorry for him. She thought she might make it worse for him by helping Thuy raise the baby—arguing over which brand of milk powder was better. The child of course would grow up to love her more than his own mother. Thuy could not feign maternal interests even if she tried. Yes, May would force him to look at them, to live with the error that could have been prevented had he any common sense, or self-control.

The sun reflected off May's watch and scattered round spots of light on the girls' faces, like tears. A strand of gray hair fell from Thuy's temple to the glistening water below. May tried to catch it.

'Was it here?' Quyen asked only to say something.

'Right where you're standing. That's where they found the baby basket.' Thuy replied.

May nodded absently. The body, so heavy, once already falling, had no fear of vertigo. There was a time that May too felt pulled by such depth. But she could not bear the thought of her daughter inside her, already submerged in water, desperately fighting for life. If anything, they deserved separate deaths. Saved by the mere thought of another's life. Not Khanh.

There was nobody in the basket of course. Liem would have been six or seven by then. When the car mechanics stumbled upon the basket, his nervous oil stained fingers perused the layers of blanket, relieved to find nothing but a few photographs, curled at the corners. Laughing faces, he noted, then was horror-stricken by the floating shape below.

'People used to think we were twins.' Thuy spoke, her words small and tired. 'I don't think we look alike—But in the end I sort of hope we did.'

Was Thuy hoping somehow the boy would see a mother in her, May thought. Apparently there were more than one ghost in the room.

'She was always sending me baby pictures. I thought she was mocking me—I was trying myself but nothing worked. I didn't know to be glad or sad for her.' Quyen added.

'No matter what I did, I was betraying somebody—' She went on. 'Who could I be happy for anyway?'

May looked around. They were all here, the closest to a memorial they could manage for their friend. No flowers, not even a prepared speech, only incomplete memories, mouthful yet not enough to fill the silence. What about May, what could she possibly say to ease what they did, turned away from?

For a fleeting moment, she considered awarding Liem this year scholarship. Saving the child of a suicide victim, the news headline might say, Deputy May doesn't forget a friend. The boy would not accept it, May knew.

'Let's not wonder too far,' she finally muttered. Senseless though the words seemed, she felt her heart retreated back into the hollow space in her chest. The rhythm cautious and steady.

The three roads from the bridge all led to the same place, where May and Khanh spent hours awake as college girls, where Liem lived now. From all different directions they were brought back once more.

Tomorrow the construction team would be here. May had signed the contract to compensate families with houses built in or along side the river. In their places would rise the first five star hotel in the country. She imagined the resort expanding, indoor swimming pools, garden bars, and live concerts. When the sun set, electric lanterns buzzed to the call of white-eared Night herons. It was a perfect location for international events, to show foreign ambassadors what this country was made of. May strategized the building plan so that on one side visitors were enveloped by exotic tropical plants and soothing nature, over the bridge they would see the robust city, constantly growing.

May pictured the three of them gathered at a round table on the day of the hotel opening, holding their smile just long enough for the photographer. There was something they needed to say—but perhaps for another time.

And maybe, as May listened to the mournful chirping of the heron, she would ask 'Is that you, Khanh?'

"Tamed Tigers"

Matthew Wilson

Tom didn't want to go to the circus. No sir, no how.

The game was on and he'd just got the crease in his couch to his liking to sit and relax in. But tonight Jenny wanted to go drinking with her friends. It had been written on the calendar pinned to the fridge all of ten hours, which made it legal law in this house.

"Don't leave me with the baby, honey. I won't know what to do with him. You know how clumsy I am, I'll probably drop him in the Lions cage or something."

"He's not a baby anymore, Tom. I know you burnt most of his child hood away in the bar but your son is seven now and I think it's about time you two spent time together. bonded."

"You mean you think your partying is more important than my game. I got fifty notes riding on this."

"I work for what this family needs day in and out, if you don't give me this one night to let my hair down I'm gonna break and when you go to sleep I'll staple your damn foreskin shut."

"James, get your coat, son. Daddies taking you out for the evening."

"That's what I thought."

Tom could hear the children cheering before he killed the car engine.

He rubbed his eyes and looked at the sign. Parking lot D. With what he had in the glove box alone he was amazed he retained the idea of what day it was - definitely one that ended in a y.

"You remember where we're parked right, son?"

James fixed his blue baseball cap and opened the car door. "You want some help?"

"Don't worry, daddy can climb out a car - ah, get it off. It's strangling me!"

"It's a seat belt, dad."

"I know. Just don't tell your mom."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Drink is the magic medicine making mommies disappointment turn to rainbows."

"Mom told you I'm seven, right dad? I know I'm in a broken home."

"All right..."

"James."

"I know that. Stop being a smart ass and help daddy out the car."

Forty bucks.

Forty bucks.

Tom checked his pocket. "You gotta be kidding. I can kill my wife for that."

The man behind the bullet proof glass reeking of sugar less popcorn was not smiling. "Sir we are not victimizing you, everyone pays the same to enter."

"Then why don't you have the entrance sign made of gold? Look at my son, look at how miserable you're making him. He wanted to see these Elephants for- you're not my son. Who the hell are you?"

"Dad I'm over here. Your scaring that little girl. It's all right if you wanna go somewhere else. Please, your embarrassing me."

"That's what your mom said on our wedding day, oh no. I'm not having her tell me she won. She told me to take you to the launderette and we're going to the - what the hell is this place?"

"This is a zoo sir. If you want to come in its-"

"Yeah, all right, Hitler. Forty dollars you told us. Here, take it. You want my shirt too?"

"You know, sir. Drink is not permitted on these premises.

"You want to suck it from my blood stream, pal? I'm all out of cans."

The sign said "Elephant rides half price," and Tom mourned because he was all out of change. In his day he could walk out of his house in the morning with nothing, steal a wi fi system and get forty dollars for it in the evening.

They'd have to take a tour. But no souvenirs.

"Give me your hat. I'll stencil a chimp on it and you can tell mom you bought it at the gift shop."

"Dad. I don't think all this drinking's good for you"

"Nonsense, in this state of mind I'm still attracted to your mother..."

"James."

"Right. If it wasn't for my mom being a drunk she'd never have married my dad. Alcohol's the sole reason I'm in life to begin with, and enjoying it."

James giggled as a giant Panda picked the ticks off her baby behind bamboo painted bar's and Tom wished he'd a camera to get proof he could ensure his son had a good time. He tried to trade a Japanese tourist for his camera but even in the east they didn't swap things for empty candy wrappers.

"What do you think that mommy Panda's thinking?" James whispered, helped his father find his balance and sag smiling against a railing marked do not cross.

James rubbed his eyes till he saw only two Pandas and shrugged, "Animals ain't that smart, son. They're not as intelligent as you or me - what's Beethoven doing in there?"

"Dad that's not Beethoven. That's a baby Panda."

"It is. Look, he's singing and everything."

"All right. I think we need to get you out of the sun."

The man on the speaker stopped talking about the life expectancy of an average Bear when James detected the screaming. For a horrible moment he thought dad was naked again but the children were running towards him rather than from.

"Please remain calm." Bellowed the bull horn bolted to the iron pole. "The staff are trained for such a protocol as this, please do not panic. Make your way calmly to the nearest exit and do not run. Prepare to have your hand stamped if you want to come back in-"

James guarded his eyes against the sun and stood on the bench, wobbled but didn't fall as dad snored beside him. Something was coming.

It roared only once before it took the woman down, covering the distance between them in one easy spring. It's grass blade like stripe rippled as its flesh tasted blood and howled as it's mate lapped the blood like cream on her trainers.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Please remain calm, there has been an escape but you'll only hurt yourselves by panicking."

"Tigers." James muttered like a new alien word he was trying out for the first time. It seemed to make no sense to him. Had no meaning in his natural, normal day unless he was watching an animal show

The cats were so big outside the bars, stretching their long spines so they cracked, their fangs clicked.

"Come on, dad. We gotta get out of here."

"You can't make me go to school. You're not the boss of me, little girl."

Everyone seemed to be chanting run like a losing football teams fans trying to inspire them, break them from their downward swerve. The Tigers followed the scent of fear as staff with tranquilizer darts were stampeded upon as they fought the tide of people.

"Dad, some guys trying to tow our truck." James lied and instantly his father was on his feet.

"Damn Nazi. We didn't win the battle of Pluto so they could take over. Where we going?"

"The car."

"Right. Have you had enough of the zoo then?"

"Run, dad." James shoved him in the center of his back where the nerves were raw from his quarterback days. To James it seemed a great canyon was widening behind them as the people screamed, running full tilt toward the entrance where the man behind the bullet proof glass offered no refunds.

"But you had a good time, right?"

"Sure, dad."

"Hey, labia face. Run faster, you're in my way!" A man shouted.

"Hey pal. I got my cholesterol level at two twenty two. I never ran this fast in my life."

The lady at the entrance repeatedly shouted thank you for coming to everyone who managed to squeeze through the barricade of bodies. James rummaged in his father's pockets retrieving the keys as he juggled his father from one arm to the other.

How hard could driving be?

James screamed as something hot and heavy slammed against his back, denting the car door as his knee connected with it at a sharp angle. He could feel the reek of rotten meat on the back of his neck making the hairs it found there wilt like waterless cactus spines.

"Dad, help me."

Tom limped round the other side of the car and slid in through the open window.

"Dad, don't leave me."

He wouldn't drive away. Would he?

The Tiger howled as the door slammed open and struck its shoulder. It reared back as if stepping on a hot stove.

"Get away from my boy, you alright, Jones?"

"James, dad."

"Right - oh, shit." The Tiger leaped into the car like a shark upon a whale, its massive striped hips became stuck, grinding metal as it thrashed, kicking its claws at James. Roaring into his face as Tim peed his pants.

Tom could feel its body heat penetrate his being, boil the moisture from his eyes as he reached into the glove box with shaking hands. He opened the bottle inside and threw it into the creatures face. It had removed enough of his enamel over the years so hoped it would irritate it's eyes at least.

James blinked when the thing screamed, fell back and then he saw the two tranquilizer darts sticking out it's rump like red Rhino horns.

"It's all right, folks. We got the other one too. You gentlemen all right?"

"I think how well we are depends on our compensation claim."

"Dad, you came back for me."

"Of course, you're my son, James."

"That's it. I guess mom got what she wanted, we spent a little time together."

"Yeah. But we're never doing it again, right?"

"Oh God yes, you're a mess."

"Tom smiled and started the car, waving the staff away with threats of increasing his demands of compensation when they told him he was too drunk to drive.

"That's right. Come on, we'll stop off for a burger on the way. If I buy you two you won't mention this to mom, right?"

James fastened his belt. His heart only just starting to slow. "Any of what?"

Tim started the engine and pulled away into the quickening traffic. "That's my boy."

An Angel Gets Her Powers

A Cassandra Serafin story (#1)

By Erin Danzer

Fourth of July. Independence Day. Also my birthday. And this wasn't just any birthday; this was my Sweet Sixteen.

I awoke to the sun blasting through my lace curtains, blinding as it surrounded me. I scrambled to sit up and get out of bed, intent on throwing a blanket over the window. After going to bed at 1AM, it was way too early to be up. I reached up to throw the blankets off my head and realized the light moved with me. Cautiously, my heart pounding in my throat, I lifted my hand again. Blinding, golden sunlight radiated from my skin. The light wasn't from the sun—it was from me!

"MOM!" I screamed, in full panic mode now. I jumped out of bed and flew across the room, getting to the door as it opened. My mom stuck her head into my room, a grin almost as blinding as my skin splitting her face.

"Rafe, come here! It's happening!" she yelled to my dad.

"What's happening?" I shrieked as dad's footsteps thundered up towards my room. He appeared next to my mom a moment later, an identical grin on his face.

"Oh what a joyous day!" he exclaimed, his hands high above his head. For just a moment, I thought I heard a multitude of voices chorus, "Hallelujah".

"What's happening to me?" I demanded. My eight-year-old brother, Callan, squirmed his way around our parents' legs and into my room. His golden hair stuck up in every direction and his pajamas were wrinkled from sleep.

"Oh cool! Cassie glows!" he cheered, looking up at me with something akin to hero worship in his light grey eyes. My anger raised a couple notches and the glow emitting from my body brightened even more. Fresh panic swelled up within me as my arms began shaking with the intensity.

"What's going on?" my thirteen-year-old sister, Amelia, asked from behind our parents as she rubbed a hand through her short blonde hair. "Oh my god, turn the light down!" she exclaimed.

"Amelia, it's not right to take the Lord's name in vain," Mom scolded her and turned back to me. "Cassandra, there's nothing to be afraid of; this is completely normal. You need to calm down, honey, so your dad and I can explain what's happening."

Completely normal? Calm down?! How did she expect me to calm down?! I was glowing like some science project gone horribly wrong! The shaking and intensity of the glow grew harder to control. My entire body shook with fear and confusion. My dad suddenly shouldered passed my mom to stand in front of me. His light blue eyes reflected my golden glow. He looked right into my eyes and grabbed both of my shoulders. Almost immediately, the glow left my body, traveling up his arms and into his body. His eyes lit up like the fireworks we would see at the beach that night and then it was gone. Like he'd flipped a switch, the light disappeared. My scrambled brain barely had time to register what happened before I fainted.

*~*~*

Now, I've seen some fantastic things in my life, but never have I seen my dad absorb a glow like that and not self-destruct. I came to slowly, my sluggish brain stuck on the image of fireworks in my dad's eyes. I blinked and moaned, rubbing my head trying to get rid of the memory. My golden blonde hair twisted around my fingers.

"Careful now; you've had quite a shock," a new voice said to my right. Belatedly, I realized I was back on my bed. The voice had come from near the floor and kept talking when I didn't respond.

"I always told them it was unwise for them to wait to tell you kids. But no, they insisted you had to come into your powers before you'd understand. Pish posh, I said. They waited and look what happened! If Rafael hadn't extinguished your angel glow, it would have extinguished you."

Curiosity got the best of me and I rolled over to the side of the bed to see who was talking. The family dog, an English springer spaniel named Sparky, cocked his head as he looked up at me.

"Oh good, you're awake. I'll alert your parents that you didn't perish." His mouth moved with the words. Fresh panic built up within me and the glow came back to my skin, though not as bright as before. Sparky sighed.

"Girl, you need to at least try to stay calm," he told me. I stared at him with wide eyes.

"You-you speak? I mean, you can talk to me?" I stumbled over my words. "You know English?"

"Actually, I know 157 languages, but since you only speak English, then that is the one I am limited to. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to tell your parents you're awake."

He trotted out of the room still muttering about how I should have been told sooner. My glow faded as my mind whirled with questions about everything that had happened. Sparky spoke English like a human. My skin glowed brighter than the sun in moments of panic. My dad could absorb that glow without consequence. And apparently my parents thought all of this was normal. No matter how I looked at it, none of it would ever fit my definition of 'normal'.

My mom entered my room before I could freak out again. She carried a large, white leather bound tome with her. Scrawled across the front in gold letter were the words, "Serafin Family Journal." My mom beamed as she sat down next to me, reaching up to brush a piece of hair from my eyes. She handed the book to me after I sat up.

"Today marks the beginning of another chapter in our family journal," she declared. "I want you to write all of your thoughts and feelings in here, chronicling your journey on this fantastic adventure."

I stared at her blankly as Sparky entered the room and trotted over to the bed. He jumped up and sat by my feet. I wanted to reach out and pet him like I'd done every other time I'd been scared in my life, but I didn't know what the rules were for that now that he could talk. So instead, I clasped my hands together on top of the family journal. A slight electric hum traveled up my arms, almost like the book was alive. My eyes widened even more as I looked up at my mom and pushed the book back to her.

"You'll get used to it, Cassandra. What you feel is the residual energy of all the Serafin angels who have come before you," she explained.

"Angels?" I asked cautiously. My mom beamed at me—not literally.

"Yes, honey, angels. You're an angel. Your dad and I are, too. We're all descended from the greatest angel on high, Michael. This book will enlighten you to our family history as well as help you navigate these new waters. I do want to apologize for not telling you sooner about your heritage. Zadkiel gave me quite a tongue lashing when he came to tell me you'd awakened."

"As well as you deserved," Sparky grumbled haughtily. I looked at him, the foreign name my mom just spoke ringing in my ears.

"Your name is Zadkiel?"I asked him. He straightened his back and held his head high, looking as regal as a springer spaniel could.

"Yes, I am," he confirmed.

"But Zadkiel was a messenger angel and one of Michael's right-hand men. They fought many perilous battles against the Fallen together. Why are you a dog now?" The idea baffled me.

His head dropped a little and shoulders slumped. "Yes, well, I don't like to talk about what happened. Just know that I am your angelic mentor as well as your guardian." He cleared his throat and his head jerked like he'd been swatted. "Excuse me; I'm your corporeal guardian."

"What?" I looked from him to my mom. "What are you talking about?" Then it hit me. "Wait a minute, are you talking about my guardian angel? Do I have a real guardian angel?

"Yes, you do," my mom told me. I grinned at her and my skin began to glow again, a happy, tame sunlight gold.

"And you will meet her soon enough," my mom added. My glow dimmed. "But first, I need to explain a few rules and then Zadkiel will take you to the Angel Academy, where you will learn to harness your new powers."

"There's an angel school? That's so cool! Are there boys there, too, or are only girls allowed to be angels?"

My mom frowned at me. "Boys are the least of your concern considering you glow brighter than the sun when feeling any strong emotion. You need to take this seriously, Cassandra."

I bit back my smile. I'd been completely serious about the boys. Then I realized there must be if my dad and Zadkiel were also angels. I swallowed a squeal and composed my face into what I hoped was an interested, contrite expression.

"But to answer your question, yes, there will be boys. How else would baby angels be born?" My mom rolled her eyes and I covered my mouth to muffle a snicker. "Anyway, the rules. As you might have guessed, your angel glow ignites whenever you feel strong emotions—of any kind. So if you're embarrassed, excited or panicked, it will begin and it grows in intensity the stronger the emotion becomes. At the Academy, you will learn how to control it. While you are at home, Zadkiel will help you.

"Also, and this is very important, as we are Serafins and descendent of the most powerful angels, we are also the most sought after. As you become accustomed to your powers, you will find one that is stronger than all others. Every Serafin has this and every power is different. You must never use this power in the presence of demons or other angels. I cannot stress this enough. You must keep that power secret. It will identify you and could be your downfall."

"But why? Did you say demons?"

"Yes. One in particular is Abaddon, the Dark Angel of Death and Destruction, the first lieutenant to Lucifer himself. He has made it his personal mission to destroy all Serafin angels. This is why it's so important for you to hide who you really are when you are at the Academy, when you face demons and when you are among humans."

I swallowed hard and nodded. So not only were there angels (and I was one), there were demons and one particular demon had made it his goal to kill me entire family line. I couldn't help wondering how many before me he had taken out and shuddered at the thought.

"Some common angelic powers include automatically knowing different languages. This is not something that has to be taught; you will now be able to talk to anyone of any nationality. You will be able to use your angel glow against demons by directing it out your hands or even your eyes. And you are also immune to all diseases."

"That's so cool," I breathed. "Is the language thing why I can hear Sparky—er, I mean Zadkiel now?"

"Yes. He has always spoken English; you're just able to understand and communicate with him now. That will come in handy if demons ever attack."

I glanced at Sparky (it was so hard to think of him as an angel) and smiled. He whined and rolled his eyes. My mom cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her.

"Zadkiel will bring you to the Academy today to register you for classes. Once you are registered, you are required to attend every day for up to four hours. Zadkiel will help you teleport there until you get the hang of it; it can be quite tricky at first. As I said, these classes will help you learn about what it means to be an angel and to control your new powers. There will be hands-on training as well as classroom time. I expect you to do as well at the Academy as you do in regular high school."

Some of my enthusiasm dimmed, but I nodded. "Yes, Mom," I mumbled. I'd thought summer was supposed to be time away from school work; it was why I never took summer school classes. I sighed and looked up at her again.

"If you do see a demon or are attacked, yell out for one of us. Zadkiel, your dad and I will be there instantly to help you. I don't want you fighting them on your own until you have your wings."

My interest perked up. "My wings?"

"Yes. Once you finish training at the Academy, you will receive your wings."

"Do you have wings? Does Zadkiel?"

"Yes, we all have wings. You just can't see them because we keep them invisible while we are on Earth."

"Oh." I frowned and looked down at the book back in my lap. I opened the front flap and began flipping through it. As I thumbed through it, the voices I'd heard earlier intensified until it was like they were all whispering in my ears. Startled, I slammed the book shut. My heart raced. Was I really ever going to get used to this? My mom reached out and touched my shoulder as my glow came back.

"You will get through this. You will learn how to control it and become a superb angel on high. I have no doubts about you," she declared. My glow disappeared and my heart calmed down. I really hoped she was right. She looked at Sparky.

"Zadkiel, I think it's time you brought Cassandra to the Academy. Once she sees where she will be learning about herself, hopefully that will help keep her calm," my mom told him. Sparky nodded.

"It will be my pleasure," he agreed. "I have waited sixteen years for this day."

I looked at him. "Wait; are you saying you haven't been back to the Academy since becoming my guardian?"

"That is correct. I told you I don't want to talk about it." He stood up next to me. "Now, if you will please hold onto my collar. You will experience motion too fast to comprehend. It might be better if you close your eyes the first couple times."

Nervously, I reached out and grabbed his collar. Then I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as I let it out. Suddenly, my body felt like it was being pulled through a tiny straw, being stretched and twisted, my molecules split apart. I gasped and squeezed my eyes closed, positive I didn't want to see what was happening. Then, as quickly as it began, it stopped. My body settled into its usual shape and I could breathe again. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes—and was blinded by whiteness. I blinked as I tried to comprehend where I was.

"Is this Heaven?" I whispered to Sparky, my eyes glued to all the whiteness around me. As the white glow dimmed and my eyes grew used to it, I realized the whiteness was actually walls with windows and open doorways. Other people—angels—walked by us, most of them dressed in white or light blue robes. Some wore grayish robes, the color of dirty snow. All of them carried golden or white books in their hands.

I blinked and looked at Sparky—and blinked again when I found a man standing next to me instead of my family's dog. He stood about five inches taller than me and had lines at the corners of his eyes. His golden hair had gray at the temples and grey stubble covered his chin. White wings fluttered behind his light blue robe, a gold sash around his waist. This was Zadkiel, not the family dog. His blue eyes twinkled as he raised a single eyebrow at me.

"No, this is Magna Sinum, the place in between Heaven and Earth. It is where all Angel Academies are held," he informed me.

"There's more than one?"

"Yes, but we do not have time for that. I have exactly one hour to show you around, get you registered for classes, and get your robes and books before we have to be home to go to the parade. Thank goodness they moved the start time to noon this year."

He started to walk away but I could only stare after him. It was so weird to think that the man before me was a cute, lovable English springer spaniel at home. What had he done to become a dog? How horribly had he wronged God and Michael? And if he'd wronged them so terribly, would they really allow him to be my guardian? Or was guarding my family punishment for whatever he'd done?

He snapped his fingers and I blinked. My cheeks flushed when I found him standing almost fifteen feet away from me, one hand on his hip, tapping his foot while he waited for me. I hurried forward and tried not to gawk at everything as he began showing me around.

"First we must bring you to the Registrar, where you will be examined and given a class schedule," he announced. He led me through the gleaming halls to a golden archway behind which a beautiful, blonde woman sat in a gilded throne holding a large white tome. She smiled when I followed Zadkiel through the archway. Instantly, all sound from the hallway ceased to exist. I looked back at the hall and saw the other angels still milled around, hurrying off to wherever they were going, but I couldn't hear anything.

"Yes. Quite magical, I know," the female angel said blandly. She turned a brilliant smile towards Zadkiel. "So good to see you, Zadkiel; it has been too long."

Zadkiel shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, his hands in the pockets of his robe. "Yes, Celeste; it's always nice to see you again," he replied uneasily. He cleared his throat. "I'm here today with Cassandra Serafin. She needs to be evaluated and given a schedule."

The blonde's eyes fell on me as an even wider smile split her face. I wondered if she would clap her hands and cheer, too. Instead, Celeste opened her book and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. From out of thin air, she produced a gold fountain pen and began writing in her book.

"And when did her powers emerge?" Celeste asked us.

"At the moment of her birth on her sixteenth year, at 9:04AM," Zadkiel responded, sounding all official now. He stood with his back straight, his feet shoulders-width apart and his hands clasped behind his back.

"How did her powers manifest?"

"Uncontrollable angel glow." My cheeks flushed at his answer. It wasn't my fault I didn't know how to control it; that's why I was here, to learn.

"Any other powers?"

"No."

"I have here her parents are the Archangel Raphael and his mate, Danielle."

"Yes, that is correct."

"Have either of the other siblings shown signs of angelic calling yet?"

"No."

Celeste sighed. "Very well. Usually it's just the first angelic child anyway, but only time will tell." She lifted her head and looked right at me. "You're in good health, strong and able. You have Zadkiel as a mentor and guardian as well as... well, well, well; didn't see that one coming."

I frowned at her, nervous butterflies making minced meat of my stomach. "See what coming?"

Celeste smiled beautifully. "Why your other guardian angel, dear," she said.

"Cassie?" a once familiar voice suddenly spoke up. Caught between terror and unbelievable excitement, I slowly turned around. Tears flooded my eyes as they fell on my best friend, Meredith Kavanaugh, who died more than a year ago in a car accident with her older sister. Both had been killed instantly. And now here she stood, before me as good as new.

"Merry!" I shrieked and launched myself into her arms. Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I hugged her tight against me. She was really here.

Once the waterworks subsided, I stepped back and really looked at her. She looked the same as before, except now her red hair gleamed like a ruby in the sun, her emerald eyes sparkled, she wore a light blue robe similar to Zadkiel's and large, white wings fluttered at her back. I blinked at the wings and reached out to touch them, wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Just before my fingers touched them, Merry moved them out of reach.

"Sorry, Cass, but no touching the wings; I'm supposed to stay as intangible as possible," she explained with an apologetic smile. Before I could think about it, Zadkiel cleared his throat. We both turned our attention to him.

"Now that the happy reunion is over, we need to get back to the task at hand," he told us sternly. "We're on a very limited time table here, ladies."

"Oh that's right; the parade. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have interrupted," Merry apologized and moved to the side of the room. "I'll wait here." She bowed her head, her hands clasped in front of her. I opened my mouth to object, but Celeste cut me off.

"Very well. Her evaluation is done. All the standard classes," Celeste announced and held out a white square of paper. I took it and scanned the four classes and room numbers. Control in A-1, History in A-13, Angel Glow 101 in A-19, and Intro to Angelic Abilities in A-22; seemed simple enough. I lifted my head to say something to Merry when a light tinkling of bells suddenly sounded to my left. My gaze shifted to Zadkiel, who tilted his head as though listening to something. His brow furrowed and he nodded.

"Very well," he sighed and looked at the rest of us. "I apologize for the intrusion, but Archangel Michael has asked to see me." He turned to Merry. "Meredith, I want you to give Cassandra the tour, show her to her classes, and give her the general warnings. You have about thirty-five minutes before her parents leave for the parade."

Merry beamed at him as she nodded. "Yes, sir, I'd be happy to help out," she agreed. I grinned at her, ecstatic to get time alone to catch up. I had so many questions. Zadkiel cast a wary eye at both of us, seemed to say a small prayer and then disappeared before our eyes. My mouth fell open. Is that what had happened when he brought me here?

"Don't worry; you get used to it the more you see it," Merry spoke up. I closed my mouth and smiled at her.

"It's just so cool," I declared. "A little spooky, but definitely cool."

"You'll learn how to do it, too, in the Intro class." She rolled her eyes. "It took me forever to master teleportation."

"You already know how to do that?"

"Of course I do. I've been here since I died. I'm in my second level of guardian angel training." She wound her arm around mine and headed for the golden archway. "Now come along. I have to show you how to get around here and the clock is ticking."

We walked through the golden archway and across the hall through a normal looking doorway. The moment we stepped through the archway, the normal hallway sounds blasted my ears and I was grateful to walk into the second room. The noise wasn't gone, but it wasn't as loud either. A small woman with curly white hair looked up from a book in her hands when Merry and I entered the room. Square spectacles covered her violet eyes and light blue wings fluttered from the back of her light blue robe.

"Ah, Cassandra; I've been wondering when you would come see me," the woman said to me. I stopped and gripped Merry's arm a little tighter, giving the woman a suspicious frown.

"How do you know who I am?" I asked her. The woman gave me her kindest smile, immediately putting me at ease.

"I know everyone here, dear. My name is Agatha and I'm the Angelic Seamstress."

"It's nice to meet you," I told her.

"Aggie is awesome; you'll come to love her as much as I do," Merry declared, throwing an arm around the seamstress's shoulders. Agatha serenely smiled up at her.

"As long as you remember never to call me Aggie again," Agatha added. I laughed as Merry blushed and mumbled an apology, removing her arm from the older angel's shoulders.

"Anyway, let's get you measured and into a robe. I'll have an extra one sent home with Zadkiel later today," Agatha continued and pulled out a white measuring tape.

Ten minutes later, I was outfitted in my very own pristine white robe. The bell sleeves hung down passed my hands and the bottom hem just kissed the white marble floor. A gold rope was tied around my waist, the only indication that I was somewhat elevated in status due to my family. Agatha explained that all the Archangel families wore a gold sash of some kind, even when an angel was just learning. Despite that fact that all important families wore this identifying piece of cloth, it made me nervous after my mom's adamant warnings about hiding who I was. I sighed and decided I would worry about it when and if the time came.

"Now the real fun begins. We have twenty minutes to show you around," Merry stated when we left Agatha. She stopped in the middle of the hallway and pointed in either direction.

"This hallway houses classrooms A-11 to A-20. To the end at the left is the hallway for classrooms A-1 to A-10 and to the right at the end is the hallway for classrooms A-21 to A-30. The school is set up like an H," she explained. I looked down towards one of the halls and then the other.

"How will I know where I am when I first get here?" I asked her.

"Usually, you teleport just outside A-1 as there's a telepad there. But if you're ever lost, just look at the top of the doorways for the classroom number," she replied. I looked at the nearest classroom and sighed when I saw a golden room number at the top. A-12. Thank goodness.

"But you do have to be careful. New teleporters have been known to end up down in the D wing—the Dark wing." Merry shuddered. "That's why you're supposed to travel with someone until you're comfortable doing it alone. Since classes are almost every day, it will probably only take you a week to get the hang of it."

"Okay, but what's so bad about the D wing?"

She shuddered again and her green eyes flicked around at the angels passing all around us. Her eyes narrowed on a couple with smoky white robes but she shook her head as soon as they'd passed. I wondered what that was about. Even though no one seemed to be paying us any mind, she grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side, out of the flow of students.

"The D wing is for the Dark Angels here for rehabilitation. They typically stay down below until they rehab enough to lighten their robes. Depending on how good they are determines how fast they show up here. Though sometimes one or two pretends to be lost just to sneak a peek at what they're missing." She looked around and her eyes fell on another angel in a dirty snow colored robe. "That's what the grey robes are, rehabbed Dark Angels. They're nothing to worry about though; by the time their robes are grey, they're safe enough for us to interact with."

"So they're kind of like demons?" I whispered my question but she still shushed me, waving at me to keep my voice down.

"No, they're nothing like demons; demons can't even get into Magna Sinum. No, Dark Angels have to want to be rehabbed before they're allowed entrance." She leaned closer and dropped her voice even more. "There's rumor that Raum's son is downstairs, atoning for whatever he did to get kicked out of Hell."

"Who's Raum?" I felt ridiculous because of how little I knew.

"Abaddon's right hand Dark Angel."

My eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? Why would someone like that leave Hell?"

She shrugged. "No one knows. Nobody can talk to them until they're up here and by then it's just considered rude to ask."

I frowned. That sounded a little stupid. How was anyone supposed to know anything if questions couldn't be asked? What if I ran into Raum's son? How would I even know it was him? Would he really rebuff me if I asked what got him kicked out of Hell? Did I really want to know anyway? I shuddered.

"Okay, so other than the D wing kids, you know about the Archangel families. All other angels wear light blue or white robes. If they wear blue and have wings, like me, they are guardian angels in training; a halo or gold sash shows they've graduated. Archangels wear white robes with a gold sash and halo. Lastly, there are Reapers. They were very white robes that seem to glow on their own. Don't look directly at them. That whole 'light at the end of the tunnel'? Yeah, that's them." She shook her head. "They tend to think they're better than everyone because they bring the dead's souls up to Peter. I don't think they're really that special. Not anymore special that guardians anyway. Um, I think that's all I think you need to know right now. So, any questions?"

"Um." I had so many questions I didn't know where to start. Merry seemed to realize this and patted my shoulder.

"You'll get the hang of it. The only thing you really need to know right now is that any angel in white or blue is like you, the grey ones might be someone to watch out for and anyone darker is someone you should stay away from."

I nodded. I could remember that. I looked around us and then back at her. "Do we have enough time to see my actual classrooms?"

She tilted her head and squinted her eyes as though seeing something I couldn't. "We have about three minutes. I'm going to have to say no. We should really get you home. But I'll be with you and Zadkiel will, too, when you come back for training later."

"Later? You mean I have to start today? But it's my birthday. I don't want to study on my birthday."

"Do you want to light up like a Christmas tree whenever Colin Schneider is within fifteen feet of you?" She raised an eyebrow, making me squirm.

"How do you know about Colin?" I'd only been crushing on him since the end of last year, long after Merry's death. We sort of knew each other through a couple mutual friends, but I was pretty sure he didn't really know who I was or that I liked him.

"Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I'm not there. You're the reason I have my wings, Cass. I know everything."

"It sounds so ominous when you say it that way." I took a deep breath. "Okay, if you say I'll be fine, then I'll be fine. Let's go back so I don't miss the parade." She reached out to take my hand and I stopped her. "Wait. Am I going to be able to see you? On Earth, I mean; now that I can see you here?"

She sadly shook her head. "No. Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. I have to remain in spirit form on Earth; I'm only corporeal here."

"Oh." I frowned at my toes. "Okay, well, we'd better go. Don't want to keep my parents waiting. They might smite me or something."

Merry laughed and rolled her eyes. "Only God can smite people; well, God and the Throne angels. Everyone else just uses angel glow."

"You can use it as a weapon?"

"Of course. How else do you think we fight off the demons?" She clapped me on the back. "You have a lot to learn."

I nodded. "No kidding."

Merry grabbed my hand and I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as possible. I felt my body twist and stretch, a huge pressure on my chest like before. When it finally stopped, I opened my eyes and found myself in my bedroom once again. My mom popped her head in, a smile on her face.

"Oh good, you're back; we were afraid you'd forget," she said to me. "Ready to feel normal for a couple hours?"

"Yeah, sure," I agreed, but I couldn't help wondering when I would ever feel normal again.

**I hope you've enjoyed meeting Cassie and getting a glimpse into her new world. If you want to know what happens next, check out my blog (www.erindanzer.com/blog) on August 1, for the next story, An Angel Gets a Lesson in Control.**

Len and Smithy

By Carl Palmer

My Hospice volunteer coordinator pairs me with Leonard Miller, homebound in the home of Roy Schmidt. Len, as Leonard likes to be called, is seventy-one, actively dying from leukemia, and in the last two months, drifting deeper daily into dementia.

Len's patient information sheet lists that he has family in the area, a daughter and son, both married with grown children of their own. They enter his conversations often, but they never enter or even telephone Len at Roy's home.

Mildred, Len's wife known as Millie, passed away six years earlier in her sleep and is still very much alive somewhere just at the edge of Len's focus.

Smithy, as Len calls Roy, lifelong friend, likewise in his early seventies, is a widower with two grown children in town as well, who also never call or come around. Lately he shows signs of forgetfulness, too, but confides they're his senior memory moments, well earned, and sometimes best forgotten anyway.

"Len won a football scholarship out of high school. He was our quarterback and I was his center. Instead of taking the full ride, he enlisted in the Army," Smithy muses as we three sit eating cereal back when Len was able to feed himself. "After serving his tour in Vietnam, he came home to marry Millie, head cheerleader and high school honey, before starting back to work beside me in our Dads' boat shop."

"I certainly didn't need college to do what I'd always loved to do as a kid, more of a hobby than a job," Len points out. "My son wanted to do the same when he finished high school, but Millie and me insisted he get a college diploma. His education is in design and Smithy's son got his degree in business. Soon after graduation our boys began to build that original small shop into what our boat company is today, Schmidt Miller Watercraft, named as one of the best 500 small businesses on the west coast," Len boasts, then chuckles, "Of course, Smithy and I are retired figureheads now, with our pictures on the showroom wall."

"Our families were always close, did most everything together," Smithy maintains. "We have so much in common, Len and me. We even buried our wives the same year."

"That's also when everything changed." Len reveals and looks at Smithy who nods for him to continue. "After the wives were gone we'd spend more and more time together, sometimes not even bothering to go home to a lonely, empty house. I'd just crash in Smithy's guest room or he'd sleep in mine. It just made sense."

"It made sense, too," Smithy agrees, "that we should sign over both houses to the kids and move into an apartment together. We invited them over to share our good news. Without letting us finish, all four children and all four spouses start wailing at once. Are you telling us that you're gay?...at your age... I am so ashamed.... How could you?... How long has this been going on?... Who else knows?... What will the children say?... Do you realize what this will do to our business?...Have you given any thought about us?... They allowed us no time to answer and themselves no time to listen."

"Individually each tried over the next few months to talk us out of our decision, each time ending in another argument," Len discloses. "They stopped communicating with us entirely when I sold my place and moved in here with Smithy. That was four years ago today. Happy Anniversary, Smithy, I love you."

"I love you too, Len", Smithy whispers at the graveside, one year today since Len passed away.

"We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has lost a friend, what shall we call him?"

~ Joseph Roux

Terra-Firma Reviews

By Terry Kelly

Title: The Green Darkness

Author: Anya Seton

The Green Darkness by Anya Seton is one of my favorite novels. I originally found my first copy of it in a laundry mat, I randomly picked it up for something to do while I was waiting and then I fell in love. I sadly stole that book from the laundry mat so I could finish reading it. In a twist of fate I have gotten and lost that book on three different occasions!

The book is set in two different time periods with a Tudor setting and a more modern setting (well kind of more modern) of 1968. It is a beautiful and tragic tale of reincarnation, love, jealousy, envy and selfishness. Have you ever felt Deja Vu or looked at someone and felt you knew them? That theory is the basis for this book.

Celia meets Richard on a luxurious cruise and it's love at first sight for the both of them. They have a whirlwind romance and quickly get married. Celia moves into Richards country estates in England and that's where things begin to change for them. It culminates in a weekend party where all the players in an ancient drama get together again causing Celia to return to the past to fight the evil that afflicts her love/life in the course of a couple of life times.

To me the really interesting part is that the author is known for her historical writing and this book follows that genre as well. Obviously we don't know if the reincarnation is real but the base story from the Tudor Era actually is. There is evidence about a priest written in a family's chronicle book as well a woman who was walled alive in another manor house from the same time era. Most likely these two events have nothing to do with each other but I love how she blended the two of them together to make an amazing and beautiful story.

So if you are looking for something new to read and you love historical or paranormal romance then I would most definitely suggest this novel! The language is lovely and you genuinely feel as if you get to know Celia and Richard throughout the novel and feel bad for them as things just never seem to go the way they would have liked.

Hopefully you enjoy this book as much as I did!

There You Have It: My Opinion

By Cambria Hebert

Title: A Beautiful Dark (Beautiful Dark #1)

Author: Jocelyn Davies

Publisher: Harper Teen, 2011

Format: Print and Ebook

Genre: Young adult paranormal, fantasy

Synopsis (courtesy of GoodReads)

On the night of Skye's seventeenth birthday, she meets two enigmatic strangers. Complete opposites; like fire and ice; Asher is dark and wild, while Devin is fair and aloof. Their sudden appearance sends Skye's life into a tailspin. She has no idea what they want, or why they seem to follow her every move only that their presence coincides with a flurry of strange events. Soon she begins to doubt not just the identity of the two boys, but also the truth about her own past.

In the dead of a bitingly cold Colorado winter, Skye finds herself coming to terms with the impossible secret that threatens to shatter her world. Torn between Asher, who she can't help falling for, and Devin, who she can't stay away from, the consequences of Skye's choice will reach further than the three of them could ever imagine.

My Review (courtesy of me!):

I loved this book. I loved it. It's the kind of book I sometimes think to myself "I want something really good to read, the kind of book I really can get into". Thos books are hard to find sometimes for me, and this one I came across almost accidentally. I went into 2nd and Charles (my favorite used bookstore) searching for a book that wasn't this one. They didn't have the one I wanted but then I say this on the shelf and I picked it up and read the back cover:

We were quiet for a few minutes. I leaned my head on his chest and listened to the sound of his breathing.

"You don't have a heartbeat," I said.

"Does that bother you?" He asked.

"No." I thought for a moment. "As long as you can feel things and care about things."

"It's wrong to think that you need a heart to love," he whispered.

I was sold right then. Just my kind of read. I brought the book home and before I opened I told it please be good, please be good. LOL. It didn't disappoint me at all. I knew about 10 pages in that this book was going to be good. How did I know?

The author has a way of pulling you into the book with her words. She paints a picture, opens a door to the main character, Skye and you just fall right in and you don't want to stop reading. I read this book in a day. In a matter of hours really. I read through to chapter 20 the night I brought it home, put in on my bedside table and then started reading it again at breakfast. I haven't had a book I just want to read because I loved in a long time. Sure, I have had books where I HAD to read them, I had to know what was happening. Sure, I wanted to know what was happening here but really, I just like the characters and I enjoyed being around them. (Is that odd? Maybe its because I'm a writer myself and the characters just seem real to me)

Skye is a regular teenage girl, okay, except for the fact that her parents died when she was 6. She goes to high school has a great group of friends and loves to ski. She loves her aunt Jo and doesn't have any regular teenage drama. There are no mean girls at school to torture her and her friends are actually nice. I liked that. I like Skye. Of course, things don't stay normal for long (it is a paranormal book after all!) and she handles it pretty well, meaning she takes things like a normal teen would. At times she wants to cry, at times she wants to scream, but that's normal.

Skye's best friend Cassie was a real joy to read too. This girl didn't seem to have any hidden agendas, loved boys, parties and music. I liked her more and more as the book went on.

Asher and Devin... the new boys in town (Aren't their always new boys in town? Lol). I like the ying and yang they presented. It was fun to try and decide what each one was up to and it was interesting to watch them disagree. It seemed odd that two people who were seemingly from the same place would hate each other so much, but then it all clicked into place. I really loved Asher... course I would. He's the bad boy... the dark hair and eyes, the protective nature, the flirtatious smile.... Yup love me some of dat. He has his secrets like everyone else I suppose and I am not going to spill them onto this page. If you want to know Asher (and you do) read the book. 

Devin was another great character. His tranquility, his blue eyes and blond hair...I enjoyed reading about him as well, he was also more intense I think that Asher, which if you read the book speaks volumes because technically, Devin is the tranquil one.

Let me address what you are all probably thinking by now: a love triangle. You see the two guys and the girl mentioned above.... I won't say there isn't one but it isn't the same as others where the girl is like "Oh I am so hot and all these guys want me, who shall I choose?" This triangle I didn't mind at all... maybe because to me (and maybe to you – you will have to form your own opinion) there wasn't really a triangle. I think I know where the scales are tipped to. I know who I love and to me, it isn't really about a competition anyway. And to Skye the guy thing was confusing and more of an inconvenience to her life.

The plot of this book I really enjoyed to. Let's face it – it wasn't original but I didn't care. It didn't need to be because it was told in a fresh way with a fresh eye and original characters. Plus, I will say that some of the paranormal stuff, while familiar was original as well. Let's just say this book was a new twist on an old classic. And classic's work.

The book ends on a cliffhanger that left me wanting more and I am disappointed that the second one won't be out until September because I would love to dive into it right now. I might even go on a hunt to find an ARC.... wonder if netgalley has it.... anyway, if you don't like cliffhanger endings be prepared cause this has one. I liked it. It did its job to make me want more!

I will be 100% sure to read the next in this series. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. If you are a fan of paranormal, romance and fantasy you probably will like this. It's definitely worth a shot.

So there you have it. My opinion.

There You Have It! My Opinion!

By Cambria Hebert

Title: Endure (Need #4)

Author: Carrie Jones

Genre: YA paranormal, fantasy

Format: Ebook and Print

Publisher: Bloomsbury May 2012

Synopsis (courtesy of GoodReads)

Zara is at the center of an impending apocalypse. True, she's successfully rescued Nick from Valhalla, but it simply isn't enough. Evil pixies are ravaging Bedford, and they need much more than one great warrior; they need an army. Zara isn't sure what her role is anymore. She's not just fighting for her friends; she's also a pixie queen. And to align her team of pixies with the humans she loves will be one of her greatest battles yet. Especially since she can't even reconcile her growing feelings for her pixie king . . .

Unexpected turns, surprising revelations, and one utterly satisfying romantic finale make Endure a thrilling end to this series of bestsellers.

My review (courtesy of me)

This series is one of my all time favorite series. For a long time I saw the first book in the series "Need" on the shelf at BN and I never picked it up. Okay, I did pick it up (because the covers in this series are awesome) but I always put it back down because it was about pixies. When I thought of pixies I thought of glitter and tinkerbell and tutu's...

I did not want to read about tutu's and glitter.

But then, a friend of mine decided to give it a try. She called me and said "you have to read this book." I said, "oh really?" She said, "There's a werewolf". I went and got the book from her house.

I read it in like a day and I Loved it. And can I just say that when I think of pixies now I d NOT think about tutu's and tinkerbell. Nope. I get creeped out because those pixies are creepy! (But creepy in a good way not creepy in a bad way...make sense? I think so.)

I have anticipated each new book in this series whole heartily. I would go and buy the book as soon as it came out and I would hug. Yes, I would. Like you've never hugged a book before. So imagine my intense delight when I walked into a BN on my birthday and Endure was sitting front and center. Of course, I bought it. I read it in a day too just like the rest of them. (Yes, Ms. Jones, I can hear you thinking, but that book took months of sweat and tears.. and you read it in a day!? I'm sorry but I did.)

I love Zara, she has a voice all her own. She is strong but vulnerable, pretty but sometimes awkward, and she truly cares for everyone in her life. She has characteristics that are so endearing and make her seem so real. Such as:

1. she wears jeans with peace signs on them.

2. she recites the names and meanings of fears. (LOVE this)

3. she writes letters for Amnesty.

I like that she makes her own decisions even those decisions are the hard ones and everyone is telling her to do something else. To me, she is a character that follows her heart.

Zara has an interesting group of friends, most of them supernaturally inclined. I won't tell you who is what because that would ruin it all for you. But it's a real interesting mash-up of characters and creatures yet they all fit together so well. I think that is one of the most genius things about his series, the way it all fits.

Nick is another character that I love. Typical werewolf... strong, stubborn, unrelenting, unforgiving, loyal. I will say that the very things that make him special are also the very things that I find to be his faults. I was totally in love with him when I first met him in Need. I still really like him now that the series has concluded but I don't seem to have that shiny "doe – eyed" impression of him. Now, he's just a boy (or man) that has been to hell and back and has to live with his decisions and the decisions of everyone around him. I think he has real inner struggle. Don't worry Nick, I still love you.

Then there is Astley... *swoons*. He is some hotness too... at first in the beginning of the series I was so suspicious of him and I wanted Nick to eat him. But then he showed us his personality, his strength and understanding. Astley is a character that gets under skin, a character that makes you like him.

I will say that Endure was not my favorite book in the series. I did read it in a day and I was interested in the story and so happy to be back with the characters but in all honesty this book didn't grab me the way the others did. In some ways I felt it was a little drawn out... maybe a little less jam packed with twists and turns? But do not be mistaken this is a good book and all the characters play a roll.

I liked the ending of the book. It wraps up well, and I am not disappointed with how it concluded. The writing is as good as ever and it was an easy book to read. Carrie Jones has a unique writing style, one that I admire and love to read.

As I said, Endure is the final book in this series and it was bittersweet, I am sad to see the series end yet all good things must end. Hopefully, Carrie Jones will write something else just as fantastic and I will certainly be reading it when she does.

So there you have it. My opinion.

There You Have It! My Opinion!

By Cambria Hebert

Mini – Review

Title: Fairytale

Author: Cyn Balog

Genre: fantasy

Format: Print and Ebook

Published in June 2009 by Delacorte Books for Young Readers

Synopsis (courtesy of GoodReads)

_A captivating and witty dark fantasy that will have girls lusting after it._

Morgan Sparks has always known that she and her boyfriend, Cam, are made for each other. But when Cam's cousin Pip comes to stay with the family, Cam seems depressed. Finally Cam confesses to Morgan what's going on: Cam is a fairy. The night he was born, fairies came down and switched him with a healthy human boy. Nobody expected Cam to live, and nobody expected his biological brother, heir to the fairy throne, to die. But both things happened, and now the fairies want Cam back to take his rightful place as Fairy King.

Even as Cam physically changes, becoming more miserable each day, he and Morgan pledge to fool the fairies and stay together forever. But by the time Cam has to decide once and for all what to do, Morgan's no longer sure what's best for everyone, or whether her and Cam's love can weather an uncertain future.

My review (courtesy of me)

I ran across this book at a second hand book store and I liked the cover, I thought the wings were beautiful and had that paper thin translucent look. So I read the synopsis and I thought it sounded like a good story so I bought it and a couple weeks ago I found it in my book drawer and pulled it out.

I knew this was a book about fairies and I haven't read many books about fairies. I thought the story was pretty original. I mean, yes, I had heard the theory before about human babies being switched with fairy ones but beyond that it was pretty unique.

I liked the characters – all of them. They were all well developed and each had something about them that I found endearing. I thought that the main character was a good mix of strong and vulnerable. She seemed to withstand an emotional storm that she hadn't known was coming very well.

In many ways this story was bittersweet. While, I enjoyed the ending and thought it was very fitting I also still wasn't sure if it would end the way it did. In many ways it was sad but not to the point of ruining the book (I really dislike sad endings, LOL).

I won't say how it ended or give away details in case you decide to pick up this book. I definitely think it's worth the read. It's a fairly short book, so it's a quick read. The plot is fairly uncomplicated but it's still entertaining.

The writing style was easy to read and it was easy to visualize the setting. Cyn Balog is a talented writer and I definitely hope to read read more from her in the future.

So there you have it. My opinion.

Cherny's Corner

By Bob Cherny

Review of "Destination Mars" by Rod Pyle

An electronic copy of this book was sent to me by the author in response to a review request on the "Books and Writers" forum on LinkedIn.

This book is what a tour of the Kennedy Space Center should feel like. It is a must read for anyone high school and above interested in science or space exploration. Five stars.

This quote sets the tone for the book.

Now I know better. Yes, they were very smart. These people were focused and fearless; brilliant people who gave up a life of invention, entrepreneurship, and certainly far better pay to do something that no one else did. I really cannot say that they were selfless. In fact, they were selfish in a particular way. They wanted to be the people doing this. Not someone else. THEM. Pushing the envelope. Calmly feigning confidence as they told Glenn that the retro-rockets would hold on to the heat shield. Terrified, they nonetheless felt that their guess was the best guess. The best guess from anywhere on Earth. And the best guess was probably right and was the way to success. They wanted to be the ones who were right. Being right was worth the low government pay. But the truth is that they did not know. They could not know. They were human, and humans know only so much.

So what do I know now? I know that space exploration is as exciting and as hard as anything humans have ever done. I think I sensed that in 1963 when I learned of this story and others that were playing out on black-and-white television screens across the country, including my family's TV. What I know now and what I have come to know for a long time is that space exploration is a deeply human endeavor.

But the people who envision doing science on another world, the people who invent these machines and instruments, the people in the back rooms with the white shirts and black ties are not "rocket scientists." They are simply people much like you. They are optimistic, can-do, hopeful, bright, and sometimes quite lucky. But they are definitely human.

This is hard science told in the voices of the scientists who made it happen assembled in a coherent narrative by a literate and articulate historian. I wish that all the science fiction I have read recently was this literate, this exciting and this thought provoking.

I can't walk away from this book without mentioning the one quibble I have with both this book and another book I recommend reading that covers much of the same territory, "Packing for Mars." Neither book spends enough time in the cultural conditions of the society in which these events took place. NASA and JPL were whipsawed by politics. While some of the initiatives like "better, faster cheaper" were alluded to, they were not discussed with the kind of depth that they should have been. I believe that some of the mission failures and the Challenger disaster were directly caused by Congress' shortsighted restrictions and political pressure applied against NASA and the entire American scientific community.

Lunar Reviews

By Beth Ann Masarik

**Please note the name change from Luney to Lunar.

Title: 50 Shades of Grey  
Author: E.L. James  
Publisher: Vintage Books

Rating: I honestly cannot give a rating at this time.

Synopsis (courtesy of Goodreads):

When literature student Anastasia Steele is drafted to interview the successful young entrepreneur Christian Grey for her campus magazine, she finds him attractive, enigmatic and intimidating. Convinced their meeting went badly, she tries to put Grey out of her mind - until he happens to turn up at the out-of-town hardware store where she works part-time.

The unworldly, innocent Ana is shocked to realize she wants this man, and when he warns her to keep her distance it only makes her more desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Ana's quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Grey admits he wants her - but on his own terms.

Shocked yet thrilled by Grey's singular erotic tastes, Ana hesitates. For all the trappings of success – his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving adoptive family – Grey is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a passionate, physical and daring affair, Ana learns more about her own dark desires, as well as the Christian Grey hidden away from public scrutiny.

Can their relationship transcend physical passion? Will Ana find it in herself to submit to the self-indulgent Master? And if she does, will she still love what she finds?

Erotic, amusing, and deeply moving, the Fifty Shades Trilogy is a tale that will obsess you, possess you, and stay with you forever.

Review

I'll be perfectly honest, I had no idea what to expect when I sat down to read the first installment of the 50 Shades trilogy. I half expected there to be vampires and werewolves, and was actually a little bit disappointed that there weren't. I had heard that 50 Shades originally started out as a Twilight fanfiction. What I was NOT expecting was all the sex, smut and BDSM.

Now, don't get me wrong, I had heard that there was sex and BDSM in it. BUT what I did not know was just how much there actually was. It seemed to me like it was in almost every single chapter (if not every other page). In my personal opinion, that's too much sex and not enough plot.

I like a book that has all the elements that make a great story: action, romance, and well-developed characters. The author has to make me want to care about their characters in order for me to truly like their work. And I hate to say it, but it wasn't until the very end did I start to even remotely care about Christian Grey.

Anastasia Steele, the leading female, annoyed the heck out of me. She annoyed me even more than Bella Swan from Twilight. That whole "inner goddess" and "subconscious" thing really got on my nerves. My biggest issue with Ana, is that she had no real self-respect for herself. If she had, she wouldn't have done half the things that Christian wanted her to do. I would NEVER let a guy touch me in the ways that Christian touched Ana. I mean, she let him hit her with a freaking flogger! There is something seriously wrong with that girl!

I'll admit, this book made me cry a couple of times, especially toward the end, which was unexpected. However, I had an issue with E.L. James' writing style. She used the same descriptions over, and over, and I often felt that some of the scenes were redundant.

I had a brief conversation with a friend about the book a few weeks ago, and I labeled it as a "trashy novel." And honestly, I am sure that I'm not the only one who feels this way about 50 Shades. Will I read the rest of the Trilogy? Probably not, but you never know.

If you're looking for something mindless to read and that doesn't require a lot of thinking, and if you don't mind all of the awful grammatical errors, then you just might enjoy 50 Shades of Grey.

Lunar Reviews

By Beth Ann Masarik

Title: The Ghost in the Crystal (School of the Ages #1)  
Author: Matt Posner  
Publisher: Createspace

Synopsis (courtesy of Goodreads):

Your NEW favorite magic school is New York City's School of the Ages. I am a mixed-race teen from Queens, New York, and when I answer an advertisement in a magazine, the South Wind shows up at my door to introduce me to a world of adventure, power, and tragedy that feels both strange and right: ghosts, elementals, time travel, magic duels, clashes of culture, teen romance, sacrifice, and ultimate loss. The evil spirit of a bitter and scheming heretic from ancient Alexandria attacks me and forces me to risk everything in order to save his soul. Kids and adults won't stop reading — The Ghost in the Crystal. I am Simon Magus, and I approve this message.

My rating: 4 ****'s

Overall review:

Overall, I thought that The Ghost in the Crystal, was a very unique story. If you are looking for a book about vampires and werewolves, you might not enjoy this book. There are none in it, but if you are looking for a book that's about ancient magic, sorcery, and crazy ghosts that possess people, then this is the book for you!

Meet Simon, Goldberry, Robbie, Leah and Mermelstein as they embark on an adventure of a lifetime when the first arrive at The School of the Ages. The pace of the book is very good, although there were certain parts that I felt were a little bit rushed, but overall, I really enjoyed the story. It was nice to read something different aside from a vampire or werewolf book for a change. I did notice quite a few grammatical and spelling errors throughout, but those can be easily fixed with some more editing.

All in all, this definitely has the potential to be the next Harry Potter.

***I was given an ARC from the author in exchange for an honest review.

Lunar Reviews

By Beth Ann Masarik

Title: Familiar Desires (A 1NightStand Novella)

Author: Olivia Starke

Publisher: Decadent Publishing

Synopsis (courtesy of Goodreads):

Ashley Adams signed up with the 1NightStand service in hopes of stirring up some cougar passion in her lackluster life. When she meets tall, dark, and oh-so-sexy Justin, the sparks fly. But something deeper lies in their magical connection, something she isn't prepared for. Will a casual one-night stand change her life forever?

My rating: 5 stars

My review:

When I first purchased this novella, I didn't know what to expect. The cover is hot and spicy, so I knew at the very least, it was going to be a romance. I also knew that I had really wanted to read something by Olivia Starke, and I'm glad I did.

Familiar Desires is a short and quick read that sucks you right in. You will become addicted to not only the storyline, but to Olivia's writing as well. She writes with a wonderful flow, and paints a vivid picture. This short, sweet and erotic romance will leave you wanting more. There are enough twists and turns to keep you turning the pages, and if you have an hour or two to kill, I highly recommend picking up this bad-boy.

The Staff

Beth Ann Masarik, is the founder and chief editor of Literary Lunes. She created this magazine, because people are always coming to her for literary advice, and she wanted to be there for all aspiring writers. She is the author of her debut novel, The World Among Us, a young adult, urban fantasy novel. Her book will be released on August 19, 2011. In addition to running Literary Lunes, Beth also runs her blogs, Writer's Advocate, and Hallowed Writers. For more information about Beth, you can visit her full website at www.bethannmasarik.com

Ashley Laura is dedicated to giving writers a voice outside of their work. For Literary Lunes, she assists with the accepting of article submissions and the formatting of the magazine. Outside of Literary Lunes, she is also the Municipal Liaison for Memphis National Novel Writing Month (NANOWRIMO). You can follow her on Tumblr at sparrowluvr2.tumblr.com

Cambria Hebert, is a new edition to our staff, and our current book reviewer. In addition, she is also a debut author who writes young adult fantasy novels. Her first novel, Masquerade, comes out on December 16, 2011. We are very excited to have her on board! You can follow her at www.cambriahebert.com

Erin Danzer writes regularly for Literary Lunes, and is an Indie author. Like Beth and Cambria, she also writes for young adults. Erin not only contributes her own short stories, but sometimes she even contributes articles on how to write literature as well. You can follow her at www.erindanzer.com

You can like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter (if the Twitter link doesn't work, follow us @literarylunes)

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