Coming in early 2012:
"Ceilidh!" I shouted into the wind. "Ceilidh, come back!"
I don’t know whether she heard me or just suddenly decided to change direction but the little dog swung to her left, swimming upriver parallel to the shore, battling wind and an outgoing tide. Her little red head rising and falling with the swell, she plodded steadily along with the slow, strong strokes that had been her lifelong trademark.
"Ceilidh, come!” I shouted running up the shore in an effort to keep abreast of her, the two younger dogs racing at my heels.
It was to no avail. She kept right on. I realized I was in the water up to my hips, calling her, begging her to come back to me.
Then suddenly she did. Turning, she swung to her left, toward the shore. . . and me.
Gail MacMillan
DWAA Maxwell Award Winning Title
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A voice called out from the hovel, by way of threat, “That’s far enough, Navy man!”
James was still some forty feet from the door, from which he suspected someone in the shadows of the interior had for some time watched his approach. He heard the distinct click of a hammer locking at full cock. James called out, “I am unarmed.”
The voice assured, “Well, I am armed.”
The door opened further and James could make out a long rifle in the additional light intruding within. The darker shadows within obscured the man who leveled the long rifle.
“Who the hell are you?” the voice demanded.
James recognized the voice, “I am Captain Lee. James Lee.”
There was dead silence inside the hovel for some moments.
James continued, “And I am looking for one of Perry’s men.”
Book 3 Great Lakes, Great Guns Historical Series
James Spurr
Governor Appointed Author to the Michigan Commission on the Commemoration of the Bicentennial of the War of 1812.
One evening Mike had done especially well and qualified for the A-feature, a fifty-lap race that was the finale for the night. His car was “dialed-up” and he was making his way to the front of the pack. He was running in the top five or six cars when a driver cut in front of him, and “69” crawled up his competitor’s back.
Mike’s front wheel locked with the other car’s rear wheel. Usually, in such a case, the officials stop the race to give the cars a chance to get off the track, but there was no signal from the box. Both men struggled to steer their cars while the other drivers dodged them. If they killed their engines they were sitting ducks. If they tried to make their way to the infield they were in danger of a car trying to pass and perhaps causing a multiple car pile-up.
The crowd rose to its feet as the laps continued and drivers dodged the disabled cars. “Stop the race! Stop the race,” people screamed. Yet, the red flag did not come out. ..
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First to Fight
- Charles Dowling
Finding Amy
- Sunny Serafino
“Those are skulls.” The artifacts produced unwelcome thoughts in Carolyn's mind, fear following close behind. “Do you think that’s a warning?”
Ben felt a little unsure, too, but said, “I don’t think so. If I remember correctly, the Indians' religion was based on different animal totems. It’s probably what I said it is…a religious marker.” Ben didn’t want Carolyn bugging him the whole weekend about danger lurking in the shadows where none existed. He knew that some Native Americans had strong connections to animal species, but didn’t know if the Seminoles shared this heritage and he certainly didn’t know if there was truly any religious connection.
“I thought the Seminoles are Christian, mostly.” Carolyn was looking, not paddling.
“I think they are... now. Look at that thing. It’s been there for years. The people who put it there probably have been dead fifty, maybe even hundreds of years.” Ben spoke to himself as much or more than to his wife.
Carolyn looked over her shoulder so she could see Ben’s reaction to the words she was about to utter. “Ben, do you think we ought to be here?”
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“What the heck is going on?” Jack asked.
“Don’t be troubled. Do you mind if I sit with you?”
Jack moved a few inches and watched as the man sat next to him.
“You see, there was an accident. Do you remember that?”
“No. Not exactly. I do remember something but it’s all hazy.”
“That’s right. You were going home. You’d just taken Jennifer home. She was…”
“Crying. I remember. Is she okay?” Jack started to rise and the man put a calming hand on his arm.
“Jennifer is fine. She’s upset, of course. It’s been a shock, losing you.”
“Losing me?” Jack said, jumping out of the little man’s reach. “What do you mean losing me!”
“The accident. You didn’t…” He sighed a whisper of a sigh, and shrugged. “The accident was very serious, I’m afraid.”
Jack sank back to the tree bench. “Serious. You mean like in…”
“Fatal? I’m afraid so.”
Kweli - The Truth Unmasked
- Joseph and Jane Matthews
(Untitled)
- Michael Curtis
5 Days in the Valley of the Shadow of Death
(expanded edition)
- Keith Lee
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The Kingdom Land
- Bart Tuma
John had said that Jesus had not prayed to His father to take the believers from the world. Erik knew that his world was not the beauty of the mountains, but his world was the survival of the plains.
He might have prayed that Jesus would take him away from the farm, but he knew that time had not yet come. He was a young man who had to make something of his life. No matter what he thought of the farm, it was his life and he could not leave it until whatever purpose God had for him there was done. Maybe his parents had run away, one to drugs, one to alcohol, but he needed to finish something in that land. He didn’t even know what that something was, but he knew it would only be found in the fields of the barren plains.
He prayed again. “God, if you really want me to go back to that place, please generate within me a love for the land. Maybe, I shouldn’t say, land, ‘cause I don’t think I can ever love dirt. Give me a love for my purpose within the land...
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The Cross on Cotton Creek
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