Drum roll please.

Here's the exciting conclusion to my short story "Tech-nesh".  If you haven't already read chapters 1-5, don't spoil the ending for yourself, they are in my earlier posts. Thank you to all who have been staying with me through this, its been a lot of fun writing it and reading your helpful, kind comments. Enjoy!

6.

            He drove to the only place he could think of, a new subdivision near his apartment. Only a couple of homes were under construction in the deep cul-de-sac that Ben pulled into. The empty house frames loomed in the dim street lamp light like wooden skeletons.

            Ben closed his cell phone, pleased with the performance he had just delivered to the 911 operator. The police were on their way, now to make good on his story. Ben popped the trunk and exited the car. He lifted the trunk lid and shifted the body so that he could lift it and lay it on the sidewalk where Ben had told the police he had been attacked. The neck twisted abnormally, raising Ben’s suspicions. He pressed two fingers against the cool skin searching for a pulse. None could be found. Ben leaned into the trunk to lay his head on the man’s chest. No heart beat. Shock washed over him momentarily as he pieced this together. Then he shrugged, Just as well he thought. This could all be explained away to the police.

            Ben began to lift the body when he felt a wallet sized bulge inside a back pocket. Curiosity grew inside him. What does a mass murderer keep in his wallet? He wondered, as he pulled it out. With it came a small envelope. He opened the black leather to reveal a police detective badge and ID. Aw, a crooked cop Ben thought scandalously as he examined the name on the badge. It read Mark Bolin, homicide. Ben opened the envelope hoping for an explanation. He unfolded the note inside and began to read it in the dim glow of the street light.

            Dear Stacy,

    I hope you can forgive me for using a letter as my first contact with you. What I have to tell you will come as a complete shock and I have struggled for the right way to do it. When I first found you, your husband had just passed away. I came to the funeral but it just didn’t seem to be the right time and then you moved suddenly and I had to find you all over again. I even came to your office a couple of times but chickened out. 

     Stacy, I know you think you lost your family to that bear attack when you were little but I wasn’t killed, I ran into the woods and got lost for a week before I was found. I would love to explain everything and finally get to know you if It is something you want. So I leave the ball in your court. I will wait in the café on the corner of Walnut and Elm this Saturday at 12:00. I hope you will come. We are our only family.

                                                                               Your brother, Mark Bolin

           

            The earth under Ben’s feet seemed to shift and jerk; the dark scenery spinning all around him as the truth unfolded. Her brother? He thought, frantically looking between the photo on the badge and the dead man in his trunk. There was an unarguable resemblance to Stacy. How is this possible? All his assurances, all the clues were now unraveling, painfully in his mind into mere assertions. Those pilfered files in his apartment weren’t the articles collected by a sick mad man but pieces of detective Mark Bolin’s case file that had managed to survive from a hard drive wipe. And now he’s dead, never to finish the case, never to meet his sister.  “Oh, Stacy” Ben clutched his fingers into his unkempt hair while a hole expanded inside him from the loss of something he never had, for someone who never even knew of his existence. He was no longer the hero of his own unlikely love story. “I’m the bad guy”, he spoke slowly as the realization sank in, pulling him to his knees. His head began to pound with anxiety and dread acerbated only by the urgent sound of the police sirens that were fast approaching.     

 The End

Hardin's Legacy ~ Endeavor to Do Right by R. Dale Bunch

                   

A wonderful work of historical fiction..... 

                 

Hardin's Legacy is a novel based upon the Hammond family history  preserved throughout the years. It is one man's account of success. compassion, love and tragedy. He possessed the values and philosophy of his life's motto, "endeavor to do right."


As I read through the pages of this book, I was taken back to a time I had never known, other than from reading about in history books, but it soon became a place I was very comfortable being. The characters are vivid with a depth of reality. And, as a diamond has many facets, so does the work of R. Dale Bunch. His ability to turn the experiences of his family during the Civil War into a poignant and earthy novel, not only shows his creativity as an author, but since he has cleverly summarized each chapter with a poem, his talent as a poet is exhibited, as well. Except for "Lasca" the Texas folklore poem, all poetry is written by the author. Here is a sample of the poetry you will find in his book.

                         Leaving

     It's hard to leave the friends you've found;

    Change in life isn't always fair.

    You set your sights on familiar ground,

    Pack up your horse and leave for there.

    But wait; what about the love you feel?

    Time ran out, changed everything.

    Back down the road you steal,

    Feeling the loss, enduring the sting.
 

In August of 1862, the Hammond family was removed from the only home they'd ever known, by Federal soldiers..........and the story continues in Hardin's Legacy ~ Endeavor to Do Right.

An excerpt:

      "Hardin could feel the alertness in the little horse. He sensed danger.

     'Yeah, better get going. It's a long way to Quincy. It can be dangerous, too.' The man had a smirk on his face when he said it.

     Hardin felt fear deep inside. if they tried to rob him now, he had a chance with his rifle. But if they followed him, they would most likely come after him in the dark.

    Hardin turned and started walking Brownie down the road. The men sat on their horses without even pretending to continue in the direction they had been traveling. They were still there talking to each other when Hardin and Brownie rounded the bend in the road. 

   'They will probably follow me,' Hardin thought.

    He glanced back now and then and saw dust in the distance from their horses. He would have to be ready after dark. He was sure that they planned to rob him; they probably meant to kill him, too. Out there in the country, no one would ever catch them. He was in a tight spot." 

About the Author:

R. Dale Bunch is the former president of Midstate College in Peoria, Illinois. His love for nature is shared by his daughter, two sons, three step-sons, and their families. It is no surprise then, that he would live on a 40-acre farm reminiscent of the Missouri landscape that he loved to roam as a young boy.

This novel may be purchased at Amazon.com by clicking here.

Enjoy,

  The Ethereal Chick

Congratulations!

 To Kelly Hashway, the random winner of one copy of Living Soul for the great Summer Blog Hop! 

Many thanks to everyone that participated, please come by and visit any time.

~The Chicks In Lit.~

Summer Blog Hop

The Chicks In Lit. are exited to be participating in this summer's blog hop hosted by  I'm A Reader Not a Writer and Bookhounds

We will be giving away S.B.Niccum's YA Paranormal book, Living Soul.

Veiled from her previous existence as a gifted Angel, Tess is now a mere mortal growing up in foster care with her autistic foster brother, Dorian, and a twisted foster sister, Agatha—whose main goal in life is to torture them both. 


Tess’ life has been dull and average at best; but all that changes with one look.  When she inadvertently gazes into the eyes of the most popular guy in school—Alex Preston—Tess sees a glimpse of her previous existence. 


Uncomprehending, Tess, wonders what those memories are and why she now feels like she knows Alex better than anyone in this world.  More importantly, why is he haunting her dreams?  Dreams so vivid, that they blur the lines of reality, awakening a slew of inexplicable paranormal abilities she didn’t know she possessed.


Frustrated and confused, Tess lives a double life… one where Alex has a girlfriend and Tess is a normal high school girl.  And another, where spirits, visions, and dreams are true. 


Is she going crazy or is she secretly dating Alex in her dreams?

All you have to do is follow our blog and leave us a comment letting us know you're a new follower. 

Short Story Chapter 5

Here's my fifth installment of Tech- nesh. One more to go. Chapters 1-4 are in my earlier posts. thank you for reading it and thanks for the great comments! 

5.

            Without a thought for his own life Ben pulled the taser gun out of the glove box and quietly got out of his car. The right plan of action flowed into his mind like perfection only can. The murderer just twenty steps in front of him. For the first time in his life he felt strong and fearless. Her alabaster face sat at the back of his mind, empowering every step. Closer and closer he crept like a panther for it’s pray. Now only a few feet separated them. But then, Ben’s foot falls betrayed him. The man turned, and seeing the weapon in Ben’s hand, took a defensive stance. They both took a second to appraise each other. The killer was a head shorter than Ben but twice as wide and from the quickness of his step and the muscle tone in the arms that were raised in defense, this man clearly knew how to fight. Seeing this advantage too he charged at Ben.     

            Ben triggered his weapon. Cords shot out and imbedded into the shadowed assailant’s chest. He thrashed convulsively to the ground. A thrill shot through Ben as well; phase one of his plan was complete. He bent down to lift the unconscious man.

            Arms and shoulder screaming with exertion, Ben finally reached his car with the heavy culmination of all his efforts. His heart was pounding with exhaustion but mostly pride for keeping Stacy safe.  I did it, he thought, triumphantly, struggling to open the trunk with his free arm. His strength failed him just then and so did his jubilance as the body flopped off his shoulder and missed the open trunk, hitting the fender and then crashed to the pavement. The crunching sound of scull against asphalt turned Ben’s stomach. He willed his muscles to lift the man again.

            Something looked strange about the neck as Ben finally hoisted the body into the trunk but because his eyes were partially closed from the strain of the job, Ben didn’t notice. He glanced around to see if anyone saw the clumsy scene he had just created. No one was in sight. Satisfied with himself he shut the door and climbed into the car. As he pulled away from the curb and down Stacy’s street Ben recounted his plan to himself. It would all be over soon he thought exultantly. He could feel himself transform into a better version of himself as his mind drifted off into his future, to a hopeful moment where he could finally confront Stacy; not as a pathetic, lonely computer tech/stalker but as the man who saved her life.

to be continued.... 

Hidden Beauty

Hi Friends, 

My post this week is a short story that I found while delving into some old writing files, in an attempt to find some much needed inspiration. I could really use some feedback from my friends and fellow writers. Would you mind sharing your thoughts and some gentle criticism with me?

 My story is called..........

                                                   Hidden Beauty

     Jocelyn had always been told how much she resembled her great, great grandmother. She also shared her birthday.  Jocelyn loved listening to the stories Grandmother told of Adelaide and her life in the Victorian Age.

     Jocelyn, though proud to have the physical characteristics and strength of character that Adelaide possessed, wondered how much alike they really were. The family albums only revealed grainy, discolored and torn photos. And the stories sounded a bit far-fetched, at times. Jocelyn wanted proof and after her college graduation, she would set out to find it.

     Adelaide’s homeland, sat on the Celtic Sea, which may be why Jocelyn found herself dreaming of the seafaring lifestyle. She would visit Portsmouth, England to examine her roots. Her first stop, after she settled in at the cozy bed and breakfast she had reserved for her stay, would be the library. There she will find the family name and hopefully the comings and goings of Adelaide.

     She paged through newspapers of that era. Jocelyn’s plan was to read anything with the name Carleton in it. Unfortunately, she didn’t find much for her efforts. She left the library to head out for dinner, with the thought of being more productive the next day.

    The streets welcomed her with light that came from the little shop windows. They were quaint and colorful, just as she imagined Adelaide to have been. Grandma always made Adelaide seem larger than life. If that were so, then she certainly didn’t take after her. Jocelyn was more reserved, not outgoing as Adelaide. But, Jocelyn had a different feeling about her. She pictured her more subdued, maybe even, a little sad about her life. She began to wonder if the information Grandma had given her was true; or stories that her own imagination had made up.

   Jocelyn spent another day at the library to search further for any inkling of how Adelaide lived her life. One would think there would be newspaper clippings and articles aplenty, but nothing. Jocelyn heard a whisper of a voice say, “Carlton? You’re searching for Carleton? Would that be Adelaide Carleton?”

     “Yes! Why yes, did you know of her?” Jocelyn looked up and saw a very handsome man. She gasped, realizing he was very close to her own age and wondered, what could he possible know of Adelaide? The gentleman apologized for interfering, but seemed to have some very worthy news about her great, great grandmother.

     “Yes, I knew of her. Come with me. I have something to show you.”

     Jocelyn certainly wasn’t going to fall for that one, until the librarian had stepped up to him and said hello. She called him Mr. Langford, a name that was very familiar to Jocelyn. She had listened to her Grandma repeat it several times in her stories of

Adelaide.         

     She walked with him to an old, but lovely home set on the bank of the Celtic. Was this were she lived? Jocelyn wondered. He opened the front gate and took her hand, leading her down a path that took them to the back yard of the old house. Her attention turned to a man in a wheel chair, whom he introduced as his grandfather.

     “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” He took one look at her and though he looked surprised…. he really wasn’t. As if, he knew this day would come. You see, Jocelyn really was the spitting image of Adelaide and the old man knew instantly who she was. He stared at the portrait in his grandfather’s study for many years while growing up. He took Jocelyn’s hand and asked the young man to wheel him into the house. In a room, off the hallway, there she was…...

     Jocelyn entered the room and with her mouth agape, she could barely believe her eyes. It was a self-portrait, or so it seemed, only in a different time and a different place. Jocelyn noted the sadness in her eyes and knew that for the first time, she would hear the true story of her great, great grandmother…….the story of an unrequited love with a seafarer……..the story that Jocelyn daydreamed so frequently.

     Glancing at the young man, Jocelyn knew there would also be a story of her own to tell when she returned to the States.

Thank you for your time and honesty,

The Ethereal Chick

    

Short story Chapter 4.

 Here's the latest addition to the story. Hope you like it. As always, you can find chapters 1-3 in my earlier posts 

Tech-nesh

4.

            Ben didn’t even have his dreams to himself anymore as he slept, reclining in his office chair. He was surrounded by articles and papers, strewn, haphazardly all around him. Ben didn’t even seem to take better care of the hacked record of Stacy’s foster care that he had worked tirelessly to acquire or the police file about the Black widow killer that had stretched his moral boundaries to the limit to obtain. The mess was nothing in comparison to the disorder this situation was growing in his mind. His latest search for answers had led him into a frantic almost visceral hunger. There had to be a connection, something that could unmask this murderer without incriminating himself, because after all, Ben had thought to himself, all criminals make mistakes.

            The alarm clock next to his cold bed erupted into its cumbersome ringing. Ben launched out of his chair, long arms flailing, heart pounding, papers sent drifting to the floor. Just then his watch joined in the disorienting noise too. He lifted his wrist to turn off the alarm, blinking the pleasant dreams about Stacy out of his head.  It was four o’clock. She would be off work soon; time to escort her home.

            He reached for his shoes under the desk and one of the fallen papers caught his attention. He had read it a few times before; it was an article about Stacy’s husband’s funeral. His death had been a big blow to the small community that they had lived in and most of the town came to the memorial service which was apparent in the photo that went along with the article. And then something jumped out at him that he hadn’t noticed before. Within the grieving crowd behind Stacy and the casket stood a man that he had seen recently. Ben’s eyes widened angrily; how had he not noticed before. How could this have escaped his meticulous searching? He had seen this man twice in the last month at Stacy’s office building. He had thought something was suspicious about the way he walked up to the entrance and then abruptly turned and returned to his car.

            Ben poured over this new discovery during his covert drive behind Stacy’s car as she made her way home in the evening traffic. He made room for the article in the passenger seat by tossing the bills he had gotten in today’s mail to the back of the car with the others. He didn’t have the money to pay for them anyway now that he no longer had time in his arduous new lifestyle for his job.

            Outside her apartment, he tucked into his usual parking spot behind a dumpster where he began his nightly watch. He had also just finished adding up all the variables in his head for the last time. The man in the picture, the man that Ben had seen outside Stacy’s work seemed to fit the profile. From the case file Ben learned that the Black Widow Killer is known to select his victims while attending their spouse’s funeral. The murderer then brutally kills the mourning widow within the week, but Stacy had moved suddenly and left everything behind to start a new life. This explained the strange, unfinished personal information Ben found imbedded in that returned computer so many months ago.

            It seemed like an eternity ago when he went about his meticulous, orderly life as if it made sense. And now all that mattered to him was preserving the life of the woman he loved; a woman who didn’t know he even exists. He wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt her; she was all that mattered. In his resolute train of thought Ben, ironically almost overlooked the shadowed figure walking down the sidewalk in front of Stacy’s apartment. He didn’t notice until the person walked up her steps and looked over the directory, underlined Stacy’s name with a finger, and pause suspiciously before descending the stairs again.

            Ben’s heart raced with anticipation as the person slowly walked under the street light and revealed his face. It was him; Ben knew it and with complete certainty. This is the man from the article picture, the man Ben saw at Stacy’s office; her intended murderer.
                                                            To be continued...