ellesheltonwalczak
Elle Walczak| Writer-Mysteries, Horror, General Fiction
Welcome! If you're new to this place where I create imaginary worlds and stories, talk all things bookish, and also own a bookshop, then it's best to start at the Biography page.
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2 Dumme, kein Gedanke !
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Part 2: The Winter Birthday Party (a Samuel Green Story)
If you have not read Part 1, start there.
Samuel found himself circling the ring of children facing the fire, struggling to find his place. Because of his genius, Samuel appreciated the irony of his current predicament. He always seemed in the throws of an attempt to fit in. He circled the ring twice. Once to see if there was any room to be had in the survivor’s circle. He circled a second time with the purpose of determining where his few friends were, so that he could slip in next to one of them. He was also hoping that at least one of them would notice his presence. However, they all seemed comatose, eyes staring unblinkingly at the fire as if it had hypnotic power, and still some gripping their hot chocolate as if the future of their hands’ survival counted on it. As Samuel contemplated the surprisingly delicate task of geometric disruptor, he felt someone from behind place a hand on his shoulder.
“Samuel?”
It was clearly Ella’s mother’s voice.
“Yes. I’m Samuel.” Samuel delivered his response in his well practiced overly respectful tone. He found out all too early what many children didn’t learn until they actually grew up. Adults acted in one of two ways. They were either unsure of their own thoughts and beliefs, deferring everything from how to boil water to the origins of the universe to the person immediately in front of them. Other adults take anyone’s mere existence as a challenge, in often vain attempts to prove their intellectual superiority. He braced himself for which Ella’s mother might be.
“I’m Ella’s mom, Gong.” She extended her heavily gloved hand. “I assure you we have some fun in store.”
Samuel took Gong’s camel leathered gloves into his oversized wool mitten replete with hand warmer.
“Oh? Your hand is very warm…” Mrs. Cheing said hesitantly. Samuel couldn’t understand her surprise. Logic only dictated two plausible explanations. Overheating caused by dressing to warmly which results in over perspiration . Despite his overly abundant attire, Samuel knew this was highly unlikely because he, nor anyone around him, was engaged in any strenuous physical activity in what was another cold winter’s day. Although the fire could be a precipitating factor, he had yet to get close to it. The second most logical explanation was hand warmers. Samuel thought this really should have been Mrs. Cheing’s most logical conclusion. They lived in Minnesota after all.
“It’s my hand warmers. My mom made me put them in my mittens.”Gong Cheing seemed relieved, from what Samuel had no idea.
“Let’s alert Ella that you’re here and we’ll get you nearer to the fire before the games begin.”
Samuel surmised it was highly unlikely that any games other than Light As a Feather, Stiff as a Board (with the exclusion of former) were ever going to be played here this afternoon. But he liked Mrs. Cheing’s optimism which was often absent from most adults he met.
“Ella. Samuel’s here.” Mrs. Cheing stated through what could only be interpreted by her tone to have been through a smile that was covered by her wool scarf.
“Oh. Hi Samuel.” Ella said despondently returning her gaze to the fire, while rubbing her mittened hands.
“Samuel, you squeeze in her right next to Ella while I check with Mr. Cheing on those games.”
Ella made room in the campfire’s circle without altering her gaze. Samuel acknowledged he and Ella were not quite friends but mere classmates. But her lack of social graces perplexed even him. She was the host of the party after all, and its honoree. After what seemed an eternity Ella looked over at him.
“I’m sorry I’m not more ‘chipper’ as my dad would say. I’m glad you’re here, even if this is THE worst party in the world.”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” said Samuel in all truthfulness. “I guarantee that given the vastness of our world and its age, this is probably not THE worst party.”
Ella looked him over. Samuel expected her expression to grow into confusion like most people’s, but she just smiled. “Well if it’s the whole world, then it probably isn’t THE worst. But close.” She laughed.
Samuel didn’t feel like he really knew Ella despite being invited to her birthday party. But now he felt inclined to help make it better in some way. A social endeavor clearly out of his skill set.
“We are around a fire. We could tell ghost stories until your mom and dad get the reinforcements.”
Ella looked at Samuel with pity. “There are no reinforcements. That’s just what dad’s been telling all the parents so they let everyone stay. My dad is trying to scurry some up. Where would he find enough for twenty of us, now? I told them I wanted a tubing party.” The ire behind her voice was clear. “But they said it would be unsafe in the pandemic, and a front yard party would be safer. Now I’d rather die tubing. At least I would have had fun, and not been so embarrassed.” Ella cast her eyes toward the snowy ground. Samuel was concerned about, what he interpreted as, Ella’s depth of dispare.
“Ghost stories?” He reminded her.
Ella shook her head. “No. We’re Chinese. We believe ghosts are dead family members. We don’t tell ghosts stories for entertainment. At least my parents don’t.”
“There has to be something we can do?”
Ella returned to gazing at the fire. “Thanks Samuel. But there isn’t.”
Samuel looked around at his fellow classmates. He caught the eye of his friend Canna who gave a slight wave to him and shook her head in clear acknowledgment of her boredom and disappointment. Next to her was his friend Henry who gave a slight and very cold smile. Then it came to him. Samuel admitted the idea was highly unorthodox, bordering on psychologically disturbing. But it would get everyone moving and it had the fear factor kids his age loved. He knew Mr. and Mrs. Cheing would never approve, so they’d have to somehow cover up what they were actually doing, assuming Ella liked his plan.
“Ella. I have an idea. It’s unusual. Let me explain before you say it’s bad.”
Ella looked suspicious. Not so much because Samuel’s idea might be weird, but she doubted if his ideas were ever rejected.
“A couple of days ago I was watching a psychological documentary on murders. Serial killers to be exact.”
“I love serial killers!
“Shhh!” Samuel through his index finger to his lips. Not only was he concerned about Ella’s parents hearing her proclamation, but also her enthusiasm of the “profession.”
“Your parents let you watch that stuff?” Ella’s brown eyes were wide with envy.
“Kind of. Well? Specifically...not really. But, they know all facets of psychology interest me though.” Samuel didn’t like to think of himself as rebellious. This explanation as to his sneaking made him feel better.
“Have you read Lord of the Flies?”
“No. We aren’t Christian.”
“No. Lord of the Flies is about…” Samuel thought better than to go into the book’s premise. Ella’s party needed help now. Samuel did however, make a mental note to disavow Ella of the idea that Lord of the Flies had anything to Christianity, or any other religion for that matter. But he also had some hesitation of his future plan. Would telling Ella the plot of the book feed some deep seed psychosis of which her family, or even her, were unaware? ‘No,’ thought Samuel. Ella was probably an example of the salacious interest that permeated American culture, which was now affecting its youth. Ella couldn’t be a budding killer.
“This game is a combination of the documentary I saw and the book. We could split everyone into groups. One group of killers. Multiple groups of potential victims.”
“Oh I want to be a killer!”
Samuel wasn’t surprised.
“We’ll have multiple groups of potential victims. We’ll call them “V”s. Then we’ll have one small group of killers, or “K”s. The goal for the Ks is obvious.”
“To kill as many people as possible!”
“Yes. And the goals of the Vs are to stay alive.”
“I understand the goals. How do the killers kill and the victims live?”
“The Ks kill simply by tagging someone. But it would be to their advantage to work together. Once they tag...or kill, someone they have to bring them to their side of the fire, which we’ll determine when we talk to everyone. If one of the Vs in a group dies then the whole group dies. So the Vs have to work together to make sure everyone in their group lives. If all the Vs in a group make it to their side of the fire, all of them are counted as being alive. The winners are whoever have the most people on their side of the fire at the end of the game. What do you think?”
Ella was silent. Samuel began to think that the complication of his game had tempered her enthusiasm.
“I think we should pretend to hit them over the head or stab them, instead of tagging them.”
Samuel wasn’t sure how they would explain Ella’s preferred form of pantomime if Mr. and Mrs. Cheing inquired, but he didn’t believe he was in any position to object to the guest of honor.
In the far corner of the yard Gong and Oliver Cheing had past the verge of marital bliss and understanding. Ella’s parents were in the throws of blaming the other for ignoring their daughter’s tubing party request, instead opting for an ill conceived gathering in the front yard. Therefore, they missed Ella and her classmates huddled together learning the rules of what Ella coined: The Killer Birthday Game. Ella was particularly proud of its double meaning. Nor did the Cheing’s realize that their guests had formed synchronistic groups and discussed killing and survival strategies that would make a army general proud. It wasn’t until their daughter Ella came roaring past with a mock scream of rage, left arm held high above her head, clenching in her hand what she had told her friends was her pretend dagger; that Mr. and Mrs. Cheing gave each other a confused look. They scanned the yard to see the chaotic but oddly choreographed symphony of small bodies running wildly, screaming with fear, rage, and laughter. The Cheings new they should be concerned. Images of angry phone calls and accusations of parental malfeasance permeated their imaginations. But the relief they felt that the the party was no longer a disaster outweighed any potential consequences, and they decided to go with that.
------------
“How was the party?” Samuel’s father blurted as soon as Samuel lodged himself into the backseat. Samuel’s mother Marlene turned to face him, with an expression Samuel read as steadied expectation.
“It was great.” Samuel said through an uncharacteristically wide grin.
“That’s wonderful to hear.” said Marlene. However, Samuel wasn’t sure if his mother truly meant it. Just then, Ella rapped at Samuel’s window, with Mr. and Mrs. Cheing in tow.
“Thanks for coming Samuel. You saved my party!” Both the Cheings nodded enthusiastically. Samuel could detect a newly developed hint of wariness in Mrs. Cheing’s face.
“Thanks for inviting me, and happy birthday again!”
“What did I tell you?” Samuel could see his father’s eyes glowing through the rearview mirror at him. “You were the ignition the party needed.” Samuel looked back at his family’s Chief Optimistic Officer. He supposed he was.
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11 Reasons Why You Should Aspire to be Number Two
If you need some adult inspiration, look no further than Number 2. Life is about confidence and attitude. Let’s face it, she has it in spades. Anyone who needs pep in daily their step, or needs a life upgrade should take a page from Number Two.
11 Reasons Why We Love Number Two
She goes by a number and not a name- that’s baller!
She the braun behind the ops
She knows how to manage a mission
She’s a keen observer of people
She can whip up a multi course gourmet meal straight from the resources of the land
Her love of airshows with Rhonda Kazembe
She can wield a baton (not the twirling kind) like a pro
She’s precise
She doesn’t mince words
She’s a survivalist
She eats every 45 minutes (with a couple daily exceptions) and never gains a pound and wouldn’t worry if she did
#Character Love#the mysterious Benedict society#Favorite Book Characters#book characters#the dog gone bookshop#doggonebookshop.com
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Conversation
A "Discussion" between a husband and wife
Husband: What's the right answer?
Wife: The truth.
Husband: Oh...
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Book Review: The Night Gardener
I’m a newbie. I’m new to middle grade horror so The Night Gardner is my first introduction to this particular genre. But, I’m not new to being scared. In fact, I happen to be an aficionado in regards to a good ghost story. It wasn’t going to be enough for the Night Gardener (the character, not the book), to be a ghost. The fear he struck in the story had to be struck in me too. That’s a high bar given my penchant for the long departed. Let me say, I read this book in bed mostly, opposite a mirror that reflected my dark hallway. Every now and again I’d look up from my book into that mirror hoping the Night Gardener wasn’t there. Jonathan Auxier sets the stage perfectly before we ever get to the problem at hand. Our story takes place in the early 20th century. The two main characters-Irish siblings, Kip and Molly, are parentless, starving, broke immigrants to England. They’re desperate. They need a roof, food, and jobs. So when Mr. Windsor hires them to work at his home Molly believes this is what they’re looking for. But something is off. The Mrs. Windsor and her two young children look sick-pale...their hair is black as are their eyes. They look nothing like they did in the painting a year prior to them moving to the house. Oh yes. There’s a tree. It’s growing into and under the side of the house. Do not touch it! Mr. Auxier does a good job of pealing back layers, slowly, allowing Kip and Molly, along with the reader to learn more and more of what ails the Windsors’ and the house. What I thought could be clearer and answered better was what the Night Gardener was doing at night to the residents of the house and how that fit into the larger story of the Night Gardener. I thought the Night Gardener’s early motive was weak and not developed for me enough. However, I still gave this book a high rating. Because in the end it had me on the edge of my seat, and scared for Molly and Kip.
#book review#bookworm#the dog gone bookshop#horror#middle grade book#booksbooksbooks#doggonebookshop.com#ellesheltonwalczak.com#booknerd
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Snubbed Again! Brevet Not a Small Town Best.
County Living (the magazine for all things country?) has come out with its annual list of The County’s Best Small Towns. Once again Brevet was snubbed for the title. Mayor Wilty’s ire up as well as his determination.
“Brevet is great town. Being named as one of The County’s Best Small Towns is an economic injection of tourism. Brevet could use that right now after 2020. You know it’s all rigged. It’s who you know and how much you can pay! I’ve been lobbying Country Living for years to take notice of Brevet. What did I get in return? A restraining order. Have you ever heard of a restraining order against an acting Mayor? What that was really about, is my refusal to play their big city games. Country Living my....! They’re based in Birmingham, Alabama. That’s a big city! That’s not the country. Look, I wasn’t going to sacrifice our integrity with payouts, niceties, accommodations and compromise. I didn’t become Mayor on that platform, and that’s how I’m going to stay Mayor.”
We wondered about this last statement, but kept it to ourselves. But we did ask Mayor Wilty if we should give up on ever achieving the ubiquitous list.
“Never! Did our two confederate founders ever give up the fight? No!”
We had to remind Mayor Wilty that they actually did give up the fight, and they were on the wrong side of history.
“I know. I know. Well, did our two founding African American former slaves, ever give up the dream and fight for freedom? No!”
We agreed and thought this was a better comparison.
“I have some ideas to get “Country Living’s” attention for Brevet’s inclusion on next year’s list. I want to announce here first that we’ll be having a town contest for the best town motto. We don’t have one. We need something catchy that tells people who we are and how we.... What do the kids say? Roll. It will last through summer. We’ll pick the best motto this fall. All Brevetarians can send their ideas to City Hall, attention: Deputy Mayor Earnestine Tidalbaum. Make sure to put the subject “Town Motto contest,” on the envelope, to ensure it gets opened.”
We asked Mayor Wilty how the winning motto will be selected and what the prize would be?
“The most catchy slogan will be the winner. The prize will be the winner knowing they created the town’s motto. They’ll be in the history books!”
That wasn’t really what we were asking, so we put the questions another way and asked; Would there would be a selection committee who would decide the winner? What tangible object would the declared winner receive?
“So many questions! I’ll have to get back to you with the fine details you so obviously require.”
Then Mayor Wilty stated he had another idea to draw Country Living’s attention.
“We need a town mascot. We had an unofficial one, Henri the Labrador... God rest his soul. Now we need an official one. As Mayor it’s within my power to pick one on my own.”
We asked Mayor Wilty where he got that idea.
“Every southern football team has some sort of canine mascot, picked by the coach or some such. I’m a Mayor. I’m at a higher level then a coach. Logic dictates therefore that this task is in my sole authority.”
The underlying premise and basis of the logic is extremely flawed, but we’ll leave it to the town and Council to make any corrections.
Well you heard it here as always. Tell us what you think about: the snub; County Living; the town motto contest; and the town mascot; and any other news at our Twitter feed: @BrevetChronicle. See all our latest news at The Brevet Chronicle.
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A Ladies Room Conversation at the Club
Woman 1: Is that real fur?
Woman 2: Yes.
Woman 1: Beaver?
Woman 2: No! Mink.
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12 Reasons Why We Love George ‘Sticky’ Washington
It’s really book love when you can’t get enough of its character or characters. For me and my Dog Gone Bookshop co-owing West Highland Terrier, Finni, we love all of the characters. If you missed our one true love (from the the Mysterious Benedict Society books and the Disney adaptation) Constance Contraire, read why we love her here. Next on our list is Sticky. You can’t help but want to learn more about a boy nicknamed Sticky! Then you find out his real name is George Washington? Come on! There’s something interesting going on there.
12 Reasons Why We Love Sticky Washington
He has an eidetic memory
He has a moral compass, and it faces true north
He’s comfortable in his glasses wearing
He obsessively cleans when anxious or nervous (his glasses that is)
He’s a former quiz show champion
He’s brave (although for a time he didn’t know it)
He can read and write in most major languages
He’s loyal
He’s very smart
He’s really good at puzzles and riddles
He’s an expert at morse code and finds it beautiful
He’s not afraid to be himself and won’t apologize for it
#character love#the mysterious Benedict society#favorite book characters#booksofinstagram#book characters#the dog gone bookshop#doggonebookshop.com
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Book Review: Scythe
YA dystopian novels are usually not a genre to which I gravitate. But this series came highly recommended by friends of mine. I have to say that it does not disappoint. Beside being massively entertaining, with its unique story line and world, (albeit at times massively violent-which is not my usual cup of tea either) it is a very interesting social commentary. Each of it's pages begs the question of where as a society are we truly headed now in terms of technology, medical science, and social safety? Are we prepared for its consequences?
According to the book, you and I are still in the moral age (the book's past). So I can speak with clarity on this era. We seek to make our artificial intelligence, that much more "intelligent." We seek to rid the human population of disease. That which we cannot cure we hope the person afflicted to live with their quality of life still in tact without premature death. But the end goal is for the population to live well into the hundreds in spry health until death takes us peacefully in our sleep. But doesn't all the effort imply the real quest, that of immortality? We seek to create the social structure where people are safe and treated as equal everywhere. But what of it and us, if it comes to fruition? Neal Schsterman's Scythe has made all our utopian ambitions come true. But there are things we must think of according to Mr. Schusterman.
What of population control if we never die? We'll need Scythes. We'll need humans killing humans under a quota system. What if the cloud of which we have become now so reliant to hold our information becomes the Thunderhead? It is now the holder of all information we have given it, about everything, everyone and ourselves. It is also now so powerful and all knowing and intelligent, it is the provider of all things good, and the great equalizer. Then what? What is it we do, work for and why? But let us not forget that despite all the advancement we will still be humans. With human hearts, greed, intellect, and desire. How is that controlled in this great new world of our making? It isn't. Mr. Schsterman makes a must read story out of it all.
#booknerd#book review#scythe#young adult#neal shusterman#the dog gone bookshop#ellesheltonwalczak.com#arc of scythe#booksbooksbooks#booklover
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The Bus Conversation: Part 2
Man 2: Call me!
Man 1: What's your number?!
Man 2: 999-555-1234!
Man 1: What's your name?!
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11 Reasons Why We Love Constance Contraire
If you have not read The Mysterious Benedict Society books by Trenton Lee Stewart, or you are not streaming Disney’s adaptation right now then you’re missing out. The characters are great. I’ll be telling you all why over the next few weeks. Constance is a real stand out for me and my doggie co-owner, Finni, of the Dog Gone Bookshop.
11 reasons why we love Constance Contraire
She agrees to nothing;
She rejects rules;
She speaks in poetic meters (most of the time);
She is a nap enthusiast;
She is a tantrum enthusiast;
She’s mentally sensitive;
She loves sweets and is not afraid to demand them;
She’s secure in her complaining;
She’s a girl of few but powerful words;
She’s not afraid to leave the room when she believes the discussion is over (at least for her, even if it’s not technically over); and
She’s not afraid to be herself and doesn’t apologize for it!
How many of you are like Constance, or in some way wish you could be? I’ve got a few of these traits down, like number 1, 6, 7, 8, and 11. But I could really uses some work on 2, 3, 4, 9, and 10.
#character love#the mysterious Benedict society#favorite book characters#book characters#the dog gone bookshop
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The Bus Conversation: Part 1
Man 1: How much you charge?
Man 2: I have three prices.
Man 1: I'll take the lower one!
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There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
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Part I: The Winter Birthday Party (a Samuel Green story)
Bradford looked in the rear view mirror at his son. “Are you excited for Ella’s birthday party?”
Samuel was excited. He hadn’t been out of the house much, nor seen many of his friends since the onset of COVID. Local school officials hadn’t declared it safe to resume class room learning. Unlike other kids, Samuel was not naturally inclined to outdoor enthusiasms. It certainly never bothered him much, prior to the pandemic or even six months into the shelter in place order everyone had been living through. But the state’s recommended isolation was surpassing the one year mark, and Samual was beginning to reassess his interior ways.
He finally replied. “Yes I am excited.”
His father gave a hearty nod. Samuel knew his dad was clearly more excited then him. But at least he wasn’t as unexcited as Marlene his mother, her’s was no attitude for a party.
“I simply don’t understand.” Marlene remarked while increasing their car’s heat.
“It’s only 20 degrees outside right now.”
“A virtual heat wave for February.” chuckled her husband. Samuel could tell from simply looking at the back of his mother’s head, she was not amused.
“Is it that important to celebrate a child’s birthday? It’s not as if she’s the 20th reincarnation of the Dalai Lama. Maybe I wish she were.” Marlene said wistfully. “At least she’d have enough compassion to see to it her friends don’t freeze to death.”
Samuel wasn’t sure if Ella was really his friend or not. When in school she didn’t say much to him in particular, but she wasn’t mean to him either.
“It will be fine.” Bradford’s position in the family, besides husband and father was also that of Chief Optimistic Officer or COO as Marlene and Samuel liked to tease.
“The kids will be running around so much, they won’t have time to get cold. Plus the invitation said they’d have warm drinks, a hearty fire, blankets and extra clothes if anyone was feeling the weather.”
Samuel thought extra clothes would be the last thing he would need. Marlene had insisted he wear his one hundred percent wool marino top and bottom base layers. -“One hundred precent wool always. It has God given natural wicking ability, so the foul smell of sweat stays trapped.” Marlene insisted. Of course he had also worn his down coat, regular pants and snow pants over those. Samuel wasn’t afraid of being cold. He was afraid of having to pee. He knew that at the slightest hint of the urge, a proactive head start was going to be a necessity. He also surmised that if it were too late, the worst that could happen is that his bottom base layer would have to do its “wicking” job.
“I won’t be cold.”
“Of course you won’t!” The COO enthused.
“What about hypothermia? What will dear Ella’s parents do about that? I suppose their response will be to throw the victim on the fire. Can you even have a fire in 20 degree weather?”
“This is a child’s birthday party dear, not a Nodic pyre.”
“Yes, it’s possible.”
Marlene turned around to look at her son.
“Assuming the Cheings create an underlying layer of coals under the wood, it should get very hot and last for some time.” Marlene was always in awe of how smart her little boy was, and amazed he came from her and Bradford. She smiled.
“We’ll you’re that smart. It doesn’t strike me that these parents are however. They can’t be if their going to have a child’s birthday party outside...in a front yard...in winter.”
“Let’s just wait and see. Shall we?” The COO placed a gentle and conforting hand on his wife’s knee.
It was easy for Samuel and his parents to determine which of the multitude of repeated suburban architecture was Ella’s and her family’s, the children standing in the yard two deep around the fire gave it away. If the balloons-the universally understood indicator of a child’s birthday party, weren’t ubiquitously tied to every part of the house’s front facade, it wouldn’t have appeared like a party at all. Rather it looked like an Arctic expedition gone horribly wrong. Ella’s parents looked as if they were trying to calm their weather weary team who wanted nothing more then to stay warm while they waited for a rescue chopper.
Marlene threw her arm toward Samuel in the backseat. “Put you head down dear. They’ll never know it’s us if I duck down too.” Marlene turned her attention to Bradford. Step on it!” Samuel didn’t move and the COO looked at his wife incredulously.
“That’s a bit much, isn’t it? I admit it does look a bit...
“Survivor-ish?”
“No. Just lacking some ignition. Party ignition! Luckily we have that in the backseat.”
Even for Samuel his father’s optimism had gone too far.
“Dad. Mom. It’s alright. I still want to go. I’ll just be happy to be with my friends. Even if we just stand in the front yard.”
“For hours honey?..for hours.”
“It’ll be fine mom.” Samuel thought he’d be more then fine. Unknown to his parents the lack of activity put his mind at ease. He was good with books, ideas, and concepts. But outdoor activity, not so much.
“I’m dressed for it, remember?”
Marlene did remember. Then in her mind, she gave herself a hearty congratulations for being such a good and well prepared mother. Regardless, she could’t stand the thought of her Samuel being out in the cold for hours. Even she knew there was a limit to one hundred precent marino wool even if Samuel didn’t. The material only worked its best if movement was involved-which there seemed to be none.
Bradford slowly pulled the car to the front of Ella’s house. That was all the expedition team needed. The chopper had arrived! As soon as the car came to a stop, Bradford, Marlene, and Samuel found themselves surround on all sides by masked covered mouths and noses, mittened hands, and red cheeks pressed against the window each reciting the personal trauma of their odyssey.
“My mittens aren’t keeping my hands warm....”
“Are my ears still on? I know I have a hat on. But they’re so c..c..cold....”
“I can’t feel my feet and toes. I can’t feel my feet and toes!....”
“Can I get in? Your windows are so warm.”
“Will you call my mom, Samuel’s mom, so she can pick me up?”
“There’s no cake only cold....”
“My front is warm from the fire, but my back isn’t.”
Samuel was rethinking his introduction into the party.
“What did I tell you Chief Optimistic Officer? You want Samuel clawing at the windows of the next child’s car who gets dropped off.” Bradford knew he didn’t but what were they to do? Everyone had already seen them arrive. Just then the expedition’s team leaders started clearing out the wall of children’s bodies.
A short woman in a down coat that looked more like she had a quilted blanket sewn directly on her body came to collect the team. “Come on Abigale. Nick. Everyone! Let’s get some hot chocolate.” Amidst moans and groans the kids grudgingly pealed themselves from the car’s windows and complied.
Once the crowd of kids cleared Ella’s father was left standing next to the driver side window.
Marlene leaned over and whispered. “They’re Asian? Asian��s aren’t known for their winter activity skills?” Instant exasperation filled Bradford’s entire body.
“We’re black, we’re not know for our tree farming skills. But we own one in the middle of Minnesota.” Marlene nodded. She couldn’t argue with the logic. But she thought that 400 years of slavery, must have genetically qualified them for something horticulturally related. She didn’t convey this to Bradford however.
“Hi. I’m Ella’s father, Oliver!” Marlene guessed he was probably COO of Ella’s family, like Bradford was of theirs, given the inflection in his introduction.
Bradford excitedly shook his counter-part’s hand.
“Bradford! And this is my wife Marlene.” Marlene leaned over from the perch of the passenger side seat and gave a very insincere grin and Queen of England wave.
Oliver took a peak into the backseat.
“Samuel! I’m glad you could make it!”
“Thank you Mr. Cheing. I’m happy to be here.” Samuel released the car door’s lock and felt his mother’s hand grasp his arm.
“If you want to leave at any time, you let us know.” Marlene delivered her message as a handler would to a spy, intoning the immediate danger of the mission.
“I will mom. Bye Dad!”
“Bye Samuel. Have fun!”
Ella’s father, Oliver, sensing Marlene’s fear stated, “We’ve had a bit of a shaky start today. But no worries! We’ve got outdoor activity reinforcements on the way!
Marlene gave a slight nod, but she was throughly unconvinced of the Cheings’ ability to keep the expedition team occupied.
“We’re not worried!” chimed in Marlene’s COO. “If there’s cake, everyone will go home happy and with fond memories.”
“There certainly is...ice cream cake. It keeps better outside.” Oliver waited for his joke to land, which it did...like a bomb on Marlene. Bradford looked over at his wife and then quickly back at Oliver.
“Ahhh...Ha! Man after my own heart. Samuel never told us you were a comedian.”
Marlene said to herself, because he’s not.
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Sherlock One: The Moriarty Letters
Moriarty:
I find the desperation underlying your repeated correspondence an indicator of the forced demise of your criminal activities and the empire that undergirds them. Why wouldn’t this be its fate, with its leader imprisoned. And now you find yourself lost in thoughts of purpose, contribution, and happiness? I convey with certainty that the purpose for which you have dedicated your life was misplaced, vile, and detestable. As for contribution, you have contributed nothing of eternal consequence, but to solidify your own infamy. The world will recover from, and remember the events which you manufactured and manipulated to your own gain, much like a fascist dictator’s blueprints placed in a safe as a reminder to not lose one’s guard for fear in the repeating of the architecture. Now you ask of happiness. Can an apple be good for the eating when a worm crawls out from its core?
I find your interest in my happiness the most obvious of ploys. Were you ever truly concerned, I would not have been one of many unwitting pawns in your game...Irene. All I will say of Joan, is that she is my partner, wisely chosen, due to the skillset that has placed you in your present circumstance.
In parting, my sincerest of hopes is to never hear from, or of you again.
Sherlock
#fan fiction#the Moriarty Letters#adult fiction#Sherlock Holmes#elementary#Moriarty#jamie moriarty#M#monthly story
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Juniper Berry: A Tale of Terror and Temptation
To read to full Juniper Berry Review go here.
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Murder with Fried Chicken and Waffles (Mahalia Watkins Soul Food Mystery #1)
What is a cozy mystery? It’s not only, or necessarily what it implies, which may be the reader huddled on the couch, in front of a fireplace or wherever she feels most comfortable during the “lazy” hours of the day reading about murder in a quaint village or small town. Part of that is correct. It usually takes place in a small village or town-making it more believable that all the characters know one another. For example Murder with Fried Chicken and Waffales takes place in Prince George’s County Maryland. Usually the sleuth, a woman, and an amateur has a day job, such as the protagonist here, Mahalia (AKA: Halia) Watkins A successful restauranteur, who happens to have a frequent dinning guest who just happens to be a police officer. That is another cozy mystery characteristic, the sleuth as some type of connection to the police department. You may be asking, “If it checks all the boxes, what makes it a big deal, if at all?” In my cozy mystery world this book is a big deal, for a few reasons. Firstly, it has been the first cozy that I’ve read where the main characters, and most of the secondary characters are black Americans. The book shows the diversity of not only the individuals, but also the culture itself, and the similarities. So often, black Americans are painted in one particular way. Just like the dominate culture, that is not true. Secondly, the actions of the characters do not go where you think they may go. Despite my love for cozies, I can usually foresee the protagonists next move. But A.L. Herbet does a good job at making alternative and unseen detours that throw the reader off keeping you intrigued about what is next. Finally, my favorite part of the book is the co-sleuth, Wavonne. Halia the very educated, self motivated entrepreneur, who is perpetually single is juxtaposed to her much younger cousin who cares about clothes, money, men and hardly working. Wavonne’s dialogue had me laughing out loud. A.L. Herbert managed to create the comedic aspect within the cozy genre mystery, of the comedian and straight woman. It plays very well. However, like other cozy mysteries it does not meet the apex of great literature. At times, I could have done away with all the narrative detail about the protagonist Halia’s background and work in her restaurant Sweet Tea, despite it being the main backdrop for the book. Nonetheless, I still gave it five stars, a rarity for this consistent cozy mystery reader. I’ve never found a mystery character as funny as Wavonne. So for that simple reason plus the other three above, you should read this book.
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Mayor Wilty finally answers fund the police
The City Council wants answers of the why and how of a police force, and they’ve put Mayor Wilty on the hot seat for the explanations. Learn how a wannabe southern town in a yankee location handles a City Council meeting. Hint. It’s not passive aggressive Minnesota like.
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