Author Spotlight: Theresa Glover

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Some people are Rays of Sunlight to this Happy World; Theresa Glover is not one of them. A self-described relapsed writer and dream-chaser, Ms. Glover creates unique and twisted characters for her horror and urban fantasy writing. The Unbidden comes from the horror end of things and Caitlin Kelley is at the beginning of her urban fantasy. Her writing lives between where all things end and new hope hasn’t arrived. Except for Caitlin who lives in the Bubba-verse, which skews to humor. 

If you drop by the Falstaff booth at conventions, you will find her cheerful face working the booth while she, in her capacity of chief minion, orders the rest of the staff around like marionettes. 

Outside of conventions, whether working a day job or writing, Ms. Glover crawls through the dark depths of the human psyche in search of new, frightening character inspirations. For relaxation, she dissects horror movies in the dark. Writing horror and other genres perks her up, makes her happy.

Read her happy twistedness – horror or urban fantasy.

Flash: Archaeology is the Best Major

Photo from Victoria Palacios at Unsplash

Rating: Mature (Language)

The doll didn’t fit.

He shoved harder. It will fit.

The.doll.did.not.fit.

Fuck.

He needed to wash it before returning it.

It would be creepy to wash it in a tub like a real person.

Stupid. Fucking. Ugh!

Fred yanked it out. Didn’t laundrymats have large washers? Maybe in the back near the attendant giving him the stink eye.

He pushed the doll body in the mobile laundry basket, limbs flopping over the sides, feet and hands trailing through the day’s grime, dryer sheets, and loose threads until he found the monster machines used to wash sleeping bags and king-sized comforters.

This time he stuck it in feet first, shoving in the butt next, followed by the head. The hands and arms crammed in any which way. The black hair was the worst, clinging to his hands, but he got the door shut without anything catching.

He poured coins and detergent in, set the machine to chugging and agitating, then waited, texting a cute girl he met on campus earlier this week and responded to various emails and facebook posts for other women he had recently met, trying to decide who next to use the amulet on. Someone smaller who would fit in the normal washers.

Seventy-two hours – three days of bliss, before dumping the doll off somewhere, clean and untraceable. Archaeology is the best major of all time.

(words 228; first published 6/23/2019)

Flash: Docility

Photo from freedigitalphotos.net

Rating: Mature

Staring at the horizon, Giorgio sunk onto the heated rock he had scaled. Dry, scentless air needled his tongue as he inhaled. Desolate desert and cloudless sky revealed no life but his own, barring a few reptiles bathing in the sun. His abandoned sedan remained below, the sole tie to humanity and civilization in the vacant vista. Its tan color only delayed conversion into an oven. The forsaken landscape ripped from his mind the meaningless thoughts of his tedious job and tiresome acquaintances, the irksome bills and insipid conversation which ruled his mundane activities.

The top was the perfect break point. A transition between civilized docility and feral reality.

The world was laid out at his feet. He could see everything, know everyone, … defeat anyone.

The return trek from the ravine over the high rocks was never as gratifying. Trite deadlines always dragged him away. He admitted to himself, he loitered. Prolonging his time with her until the last possible second. Fortunately, verifying his surrounding was only essential going in.  

Confident no one had followed him, the man shouldered his pack. Some rubble ricocheted down the steep trail as he stood. He slapped his hands together removing the grit embedded in his skin. Blinking against the unforgiving sun, one last survey assured Giorgio. He could go to the secret place.

The twisted path touted no breezes and soon Giorgio’s bangs dropped stinging sweat into his eyes. The ravine floor was in perpetual shade unless the sun hovered overhead like a nun with a ruler during parochial school. Being close to eleven during daylight savings, the Solar Goddess was beating the ravine unmercifully. Later, the north-south ravine would huddle in sacred shade and lick its wounds, waiting for the forgiving Moon to come alive.

For now, Giorgio trudged from overhang to overhang, robbing seconds of shade for the local denizens. His linen shirt adhered to his back. The hike from the only safe decent into the ravine to his secret place exceeded four miles. Recreational tourists gave up long before where his end-goal was located. The trek was worth keeping her secure.

A rockfall disguised the seam in the ravine walls. Not visible from either direction now, Giorgio had discovered the cave as a youth. Spring rains had tumbled the beneficial camouflage sometime between his youthful ranges and his adult hunts. He would never have found it again without the blazes he had left. Once again he thanked his youthful self for forethought.

He leaped over three loose rocks in the path. A quick glance verified a similar telltale on the other side had not moved either. Sniffing the air revealed no lingering smell of smoke or other alien scents. Satisfied no one had visited, Giorgio removed his pack and sidestepped down the seam.

Two switchbacks later, the narrow passage opened into a cave slightly larger than his college efficiency. How he wished he could offer her a palace, or at least the house his seven-figure income allowed him now. But until she learned, until she was under control, the cave was the only safe place for her.

A series of mirrors brought in outside light, revealing a chained naked woman. The gouged ground marked the limits of her tether, just a foot shy of the entrance. Her wrists were bruised and bloodied from the manacles. A blonde tuff of hair covered her private area, matching the massive golden curls covering her torso. Her hair flowed over generous breasts, past her slim waist. Pale skin lent an air of frailty.

She had bathed. Just for him. Using her precious water. Something she had started to do since summer began. She knew he liked her clean.

The bottles of water were lined up against the wall. Seven empties, three still filled, and two others with urine. Again something his clever girl had started of her own violation. The smell in the cave had improved considerably.

The woman watched him hungrily as he changed out her empties for new water from his pack. He carefully laid out seven new packages of food, confident she had the disciple to open only one per day. Giorgio wished he could visit her more than weekly, but each visit brought a risk of revealing her before she was ready.

He heard the chains clink as the woman approached. She lightly touched his shoulder. Good, she was becoming better. When he first brought her here, she threw herself at him – all nails and teeth. She had no control, was barely more than an animal.

Turning, Giorgio smiled as she tucked her head until it nearly touched dirt. She no longer played dominance games with him. Staring contests had required him to beat her. He dared not give an inch for her sake as well as his.

“Sir, I am happy you are here.” A soft soprano offered.

Her voice danced along his nerves, hardening his dick. Goddess, how he wanted her.

 How he needed her.

From the first moment he saw her, he knew he had make her his despite the danger. He couldn’t bring himself to offer her a choice. Giorgio knew he couldn’t handle it if she said no. He had to have her. She was still a little upset he had forced her. Taken away her choice. But she was coming around.

She wanted him. He smelled her musk as her pussy readied for him.

He lifted her chin, words landing on her lips before he claimed her mouth. “As am I, Tala, as am I.”

***

He left regretfully as the cave grew gloomy hours later. The sun no longer bounced into the cave indicating it was past time he left.

He did not want to leave her in the cave, so far from him. Having her beside him would make civilization’s inanity bearable. But she wasn’t ready.

She still didn’t understand the limits. He could not bring her back to the city until she did.

Her passion during their mating was all he had hoped for from the moment he first decided to claim her.  Nearly made him think she understood; she could be safe if he brought her back to his house.

But then she asked him not to chain her ankles before he left. That told him she still wasn’t ready.

He quickly climbed over the rock, pausing only a moment to watch the pregnant moon rise. Two more days until the full moon. Seven moons since he had bit her. Tala had to know by now the wrist manacles where not strong enough hold her wolf form.

(words  1,098 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/5/2013 for the 8/26/12 Sunday Fun; republished new blog format 5/12/2019)

Book Review: 99 Days

Book Cover from Amazon

99 Days by AnnaLisa Grant

BOOK BLURB ON AMAZON

Day 1: Caroline Patterson is kidnapped.
Days 2 – 98: Caroline endures unimaginable horrors.
Day 99: Caroline escapes. 

May God help them all…

**Due to the content and subject matter of this story, 99 Days is recommended for mature/18+ readers.**

 

MY REVIEW

I bought the book because it ran two timelines concurrently – alternating chapters. I wanted to see the device in action, pretty sure it would fail, but curious enough to look.

Timeline one – Caroline being kidnapped and enduring “unimaginable horrors” until her escape. Trigger warning: rape, beating, mental abuse, etc.

Timeline two – Caroline recovering from her kidnapping and finding her own path toward healing (which may involve hunting down her kidnapper when the police can’t find him, just saying).

 Results? It worked perfectly. The plot is tight, the switch back and forth between past and present clear, building tension throughout the story, and the resolutions of both timelines carried good payoffs.

The description of her abuse are low-keyed enough to let a reader know how horrible her experience was without completely living through them with her. This book is not torture porn, but emotional journey of survival (timeline one) and healing (timeline two) without ever forgetting the story is a thriller.

With a Master’s degree in Counseling and a background in human services, Ms. Grant captures up- and down-sides of how human society and institutions interact with individuals who have suffered rape and abuse all within a fictional entertaining yet informative story.

Reading time: 3 and a half hours.

Author Spotlight: Dr. Seuss

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What was your favorite Dr. Seuss growing up? Go on, I’ll wait.

My sisters loved to torture me with Fox in Socks. I personally loved Hop on Pop. Other people identified with Horton Hears a Who or Cat in Hat. And off course the seasonal favorite, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, which has permanently embedded into our society the concept of anyone hating Christmas is a Grinch. And most people accused don’t care because the Grinch was awesome in his wallowing in his grinch-ness; they can only aspire to his commitment to the grump.

Answering a bet to write a children’s book with fifty or fewer different words, Green Eggs and Ham was born. From there Dr. Seuss made reading accessible as the boring Dick and Jane stories never could; the rhyme and meter and cartoonish art delighted children in book after book.

But did you know he had two books written in straight prose? One is high fantasy, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, and the other is horror – it certainly meets most of the horror tropes and ticks – Bartholomew and the Oobleck.


The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins by Dr. Seuss

Memorable first lines in books – we writers always try to hone the hook. Here is one:

In the beginning, Bartholomew Cubbins didn’t have five hundred hats.

Going Christmas shopping for nieces and nephews I ran across a high fantasy story I read again and again growing up. The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins by Dr. Seuss. Still a fine story; I hope nephew number five likes it.

Written in prose instead of his normal poem scheme, the fantasy by Dr. Seuss has a beautiful pace and flow. Enemies and friends – from the executioner to the spoiled Grand Duke – distract Bartholomew from his ongoing issue of the hat which would not come off. The 1940 story still holds up perfectly for today’s world.


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Bartholomew and the Oobleck by Dr. Seuss

A revisit to Bartholomew Cubbins who previously appeared in The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins finds him the King’s page and the Grand Duke missing. Again the prose form rules this darker fantasy (sequel?) written 9 years after the original story instead of the normal Seussian poetry; I vastly prefer the clever and surreal 500 Hats of the two books.

The king wants to establish his power and uniqueness and calls his magicians to make Oobleck fall from the sky. Bartholomew attempts to be the voice of reason to the hubris-plagued king, but the king wasn’t having it. When the first drops of green fall, the royal page feels nothing but fear.

Want to know where the generation of urban fantasy – horror fans came from? I bet many of them had this book in their homes growing up. Where 500 Hats is fantasy, Oobleck is a horror – child version.

Still a solid book after all this time.