Tuesday, 11 April 2017
Publication Date: March 31st 2017
Michelle wakes up knowing one thing: she had escaped hell. She wants nothing more than to keep running and ensure she’d never be caught again.
Healing minds, healings souls is what they do. It’s what all Incubus and Succubus do. Dawn had to help Michelle and if it healed Mason in the process all the better.
Mason had his own problems. He’d come to The Whispering Winds to recover from his own past not be drawn into more human drama and emotions.
None of them expected the heart punching connection they found together.
The danger isn’t over yet. Can Dawn, Mason and Michelle come together to defeat the evil that threatens to tear them apart before they can give their love a chance?
Available from: Kobo, Amazon, ITunes, Kindle Store.
The Whispering Winds
Michelle came to consciousness slowly, shocked that she still lived. She didn’t move, a stillness learnt from past necessity kept her from betraying the fact that she had awoken. She had no idea where she was, or who might be around. Taking a quick inventory of her pain wracked body she didn’t think anything had been broken. Aches existed everywhere on her body, evidence of the bruising that surely covered her. A deep pain in her jaw and inside her mouth told of damage there and an inevitably swollen and puffy face. Injured, but ALIVE she analyzed. She would survive this as she had so many other things.
A shuffling sound to her left let her know that the room was otherwise occupied. Without moving she touched the bed beneath her, soft, smooth fabric met her fingertips, unlike the thin foam that she had slept on for the past eight years. A slight inhale had the scent of oranges suffusing her nose. Definitely not in the trailer anymore. Ever cautious she cracked one eye a sliver; enough to see soft light filtering through an eyelet style curtain that moved in the breeze, giving brief glimpses into a forest that spanned beyond the window.
She had no idea where she might be and fought for control of her breathing and her body, she would NOT panic. A soft voice invaded her ears before she could freak out.
“I know you’re awake.” The quiet, calm female voice spoke. “You are safe here.”
Michelle opened her eyes warily, meeting the gaze of the woman. Her brown eyes were almost hidden behind the fringe of black bangs as she looked back steadily. “My name is Calia. I’ve brought you some orange juice.” She tilted her head towards a glass that sat on an ornate silver tray along with a bagel, knife and small bowl that Michelle assumed contained butter or jam. The tray stood on the bedside table within easy reach of Michelle. “Don’t move too fast you are still injured, and you have been asleep for some time. I wouldn’t want you to get dizzy. If you are hungry there is a fresh bagel there as well.”
Michelle’s eyes flickered to the tray and then with mistrust at the woman standing a cautious distance away. “Where am I?” Her voice scratched at her throat painfully.
“This is The Whispering Winds. It is an artist’s retreat just outside of Morrisburg Ontario.” Calia’s black hair flowed over her shoulder, she moved slowly treating Michelle as tenderly as a frightened animal.
“How did I get here?” Michelle demanded, hating the weakness in her voice.
“I found you barely clinging to a log in the river that flows along the edge of my property. I am a … healer and I brought you to my home to help you. Can you tell me your name?” Again her soft and soothing voice only served to irritate Michelle.
“Michelle.” She struggled to sit up, cursing the pain that filled her even more now that she moved. “And while I thank you for your hospitality, I need to go.” Spots danced in front of her eyes as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. A physical and mental weariness threatened to take over but through sheer willpower Michelle pushed it back and attempted to stand.
“Michelle.” Worry filled Calia’s voice as she moved closer. “You are in no shape to go anywhere. I don’t know what happened to you but I assure you that here, you are safe.” She reached out to touch Michelle’s arm when she teetered slightly but Michelle flinched away. “You are safe. Please,” her agonized voice drifted over the room. “Get back into bed. Let us take care of you. You aren’t in any shape to go anywhere.”
Realizing the futility of attempting to leave when she couldn’t even stand on her own Michelle lowered herself back onto the bed, defeat in her posture. Even her mind felt fuzzy and in this state she couldn’t escape anywhere. She needed time to heal, to regain her energy. Taking a deep breath and wincing at the twinge in her ribs she knew she’d have to trust this woman, for now. If she ran she wouldn’t make it far and if Phelon, she cringed at the mere thought of him, if he found her she would never escape again.
Without speaking Calia seemed to sense her acquiescence and handed her the glass of orange juice before moving away to a safe distance. She hummed lightly as she watched, a tune that calmed Michelle as she took a tentative sip of the juice, disturbed that the tiny cup required the use of both her hands to hold it without dropping it. Bright orange exploded on Michelle’s tongue, the juice was freshly squeezed and tasted like heaven after the scanty meals she had had recently. Knowing she needed sustenance to heal she drank the rest down.
“Michelle, please sleep. It will help. I have others here who will help you, and when you wake, we will all endeavor to make you healthy again.”
Overwhelmed with weariness Michelle set down her now empty glass and palmed the knife off the tray as she lay back down clutching her weapon to her chest. Making sure she faced the door she watched out of the corner of her eye as Calia pulled the curtains closed, darkening the room and with a sigh of defeat Michelle closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.
Thursday, 6 April 2017
I am going to keep this post especially short and uneventful since blogger seems to be having some issues today and I am not sure if what I write will even post....
Tuesday, 30 August 2016
We are now under the twenty four hour mark. I am a total mess. In less than a day I will leave my son, my baby boy in the big city. All alone, in his apartment, in an unfamiliar neighborhood and I will walk away. Letting him adjust to life, to being an adult and a college student. I am a total mess.
I know that this is the end goal. That this is the way that life is supposed to go. We have children and raise them to be capable adults who can function on their own. Who go to college and move out. That doesn’t make it any easier. My heart hurts.
This will change the dynamic of our family, the entire feel of my home. Thing 1 has always had a big personality that fills our home. He thinks he’s funny, I am constantly groaning as he puns his way through any situation. We’ve even joked about whether we should start a drinking game that every time he makes a pun we have to take a drink. However it was decided that that would have everyone too drunk.
As a mother I am so proud of him for everything that he is accomplishing and for him following his dreams. But as a mother I am also incredibly worried. Terrified even. Will he be okay? What if he gets lost? What if he’s lonely? What if he doesn’t do well at school? What if school isn’t what he thought it would be? All these thoughts and more are stampeding through my brain on repeat. At points it feels as though I can’t breathe for the paralyzing anxiety.
Thing 1 was my first foray into being a real adult. I had him when I was twenty three and it was the first time I had to be responsible for anyone besides myself. Although I wanted a girl, when he was born he lit up my world. When he was six or seven we noticed that he was different from other kids. At age 10 he was diagnosed with a mild form of Asperger’s. For those not in the know, Asperger’s is on the autism spectrum. The children who have Asperger’s have a very hard time with social interaction, their brains are not wired the same way as the majority of people. They don’t understand social cues, or make eye contact regularly. There are also a number of other symptoms. They aren’t slow, most are in fact quite gifted when it comes to school classes. We have worked very hard over the past number of years to make sure that he is as adjusted as can be. That being said we still have a lot of issues, things that have to be explained in a different way so that Thing 1 will understand them. He doesn’t adjust well to change and becomes overwhelmingly frustrated when things don’t work the way he thinks they should. As the parent of an Asperger’s child my paranoia and worry had been increased. What if he can’t deal? How can I help him the way I always have when I am a two hour drive away? Gah. Maybe things are worse because of this and maybe not. They might have been just as bad if he was a “normal” teenage boy. I don’t know. All I know is how I feel.
Also adding to my worry is the pure naïve nature of my son. He always wants to do the right thing. Prime example. For background information – he worked at the Coffee Culture. He worked the closing shift most nights. One night he calls me just before midnight.
T1 panic in his voice – “Mom. I need you to come pick me up.”
Me – “Um. Okay but why?”
T1 – “I was cleaning the bathrooms and I found a back pack.”
Me – “Okay….”
T1 – “Yeah full of money, like ten thousand dollars and also a passport.”
Me – “Okay… but why do you need me?”
T1 – “So we can return it to the address on the passport after I close.”
Me – “No. We are not driving to a strangers house in the middle of the night. You need to call the police.”
T1 – “Oh. Okay.”
He had no idea that it is not normal for average people to carry around ten grand in cash. It never crossed his mind that the owner of this cash might have some nefarious purpose. He didn’t bat an eye about knocking on a potential drug dealers house at nearly one in the morning. These are the thoughts that never even crossed his mind.
And this dear readers only adds to my fears. This honest, kind, open kid is moving to Toronto. Gah. I think I need a paper bag to breathe into. I know I’ll get through this but DAMN it’s not going to be easy.
Friday, 26 August 2016
I was incredibly lucky to have Mr. Gloria buy me a scooter for my fortieth birthday, a total surprise but very pleasant. I had always planned to get a scooter but two things held me back. First is the fact that I am a cheap bastard and couldn’t stomach putting the money out on it. And second I wanted my ass to be a little less wide before straddling a scooter and riding around town. ANYWAYS. Mr. Gloria took the wishy-washy nature of me and ended the question. He bought me a beautiful blue scooter. I named her Luci. Short for “Luciole” which is French for Firefly. My little way to pull my geekiness into her name. Joss Whedon forever!!
But I digress, I ride my scooter faithfully. Most days once the snow has left I can be found riding my baby to and from work. She parks on the sidewalk just outside my work (and saves me countless amounts of money – I haven’t gotten a single parking ticket since Luci came into my life) I can see her from the window all day long.
So yesterday I had just finished up my lunch and was heading back into the branch when I, of course, glanced over to see how Luci was faring for the day. Low and behold beside her was this Dude. He was on his own scooter. Not nearly as pretty as my Luci but a scooter non the less. So this guy is busy checking Luci out. And I mean checking her out. He sat there eyeballing her up and down. Moving to see her fender better. A slight smile on his face as he ogled her headlights. A good five minutes, he checked her out, as I walked up the street and entered my branch.
As I saw this I was left with a feeling of unease. Almost violation. Why was this man checking out my baby? Leering at her with such lust in his eyes. I can honestly say I have never felt like that. He was so obvious, so disturbing that I couldn’t help the shudder that wracked my body.
Then I realized that although I think of her as a sentient being Lucy is just a machine. And he was longing for her in a jealous way. He wished he could have a scooter as awesome as mine. And with that I smiled and let it go
Wednesday, 17 August 2016
The last few weeks have been crazy. And here I thought when we finished the move that we would be able to relax…apparently not.
I turned 42 last week. While this birthday didn’t bring terror and tears or anything I’m not sure how I feel about the ripe old age I have achieved. I had a great time, doing exactly what I wanted for a low-key, quiet celebration. Hanging with friends, lots of laughter and generally a great time. I’m not horrified by the age, being forty two is really different than I would have thought. I would have expected me to break down. To be a blubbering mess, but I wasn’t. Instead I found myself calm and quite chill (the total opposite of me normally so this was definitely odd.
The hardest part of any birthday is celebrating without my mom. Wanting her there will never cease, it never goes away. On special moments the ache is just, well worse. She would laugh at me I know and tell me to suck it up. That this is the way life is and that I need to get over it. Get over it. So much easier said than done. I try so hard to be normal, to accept that this is the hand that life has dealt my family but I really am not okay. It’s been eleven nearly twelve years and I am still not okay. A piece of me is gone and it won’t ever come back. I fake it well, on the face of things I appear normal. Well as normal as can be anyways. But inside I’m not. There are so many moments that I would love to call my mom and ask her advice, chat with her, vent to her, anything. And I can’t. It’s moments like these that I have a hard time with envy. I envy my friends who can call and talk with their moms. They mention it and I know they don’t intend to be mean but every time it’s like a knife to my heart. Not that I want them to lose their parent I just want mine back. I’m 42 and feel like an orphan. I guess one never gets over the loss of a loved one. And a mother daughter relationship is special.
Wow. Morose post today…sorry for that. Hope you all can excuse my teariness. With Thing 1 moving the end of the month I am feeling very on edge and close to tears at all times. I wonder how my mom felt when I moved away and then this whole stream of selfishness and sadness encompasses me and I can’t escape. AHh… there I go again. Damn it. I better sign off while I’m not a blubbering mess. Until next time.
Sunday, 31 July 2016
All day we had friends, coworkers and associates through. Some stayed for a little while and others stayed for a long time. It was so great to reconnect with people that perhaps I have been ignoring in my stress induced packing haze. I felt like Vanna White as I showed multitudes of people through our home. *Arm waving gracefully* “And this is the Kitchen…”
The one thing I can take away from my house warming party is the love and affection that I felt to my very bones. Even though I had been a tad distracted and self-focused over the last couple of months, my friends still loved me and were genuinely happy for me. I have the best friends. We laughed, we drank and we had fun as we sat out back on my beautiful new deck. Darkness crowded in and still we had people. I lit candles (much to the amusement of my Dad who thought it was too warm for candles – but sometimes men just don’t get the necessity of ambiance) Overall it was a great weekend, surrounded by love and laughs.
Yesterday we went to Toronto (again) on the search for a room for Thing 1 to live in while in college this September. First let me rewind. Last week we spent Wednesday looking for apartments / rooms. What a waste of time, energy and gasoline. Although spending the day with my kids is never a bad thing…looking at rooms that ranged from skanky to Skanky to SKANKY didn’t help with my separation anxiety. The one room looked like there should have been a number of murders in the space. Concrete walls, squishy stairs to a dank basement. Two hot plates plugged in behind the hot water tank. AND the kicker…she opens the door to show us the bedroom and the guy renting it was asleep in the bed still. Yes, you heard me right she showed us the room while someone was still there. Ugh. I shuddered with disgust for a half hour afterwards. As did Thing 2, while Thing 1 told us to “Stop being such girls” We came home…frustrated, scared and unsure how to proceed. And I was more terrified than ever about my Baby Boy moving to THE CITY. But I foraged on…and last night we drove back for another viewing. This time the house was aged, but clean. The landlord was nice but not creepy nice. The room was big enough and bright enough. There was drywall on the walls, and actual flooring on the floor. It was close to the college and close enough to where Thing 1 hopes to work. It was at the top of his budget – but not over budget (unlike many of the questionable places we had seen) Overall a win. We should be signing the lease tonight. And boy am I happy. Not happy that my kid is going away but happy that we have a place for him to go to. He won’t be living on the streets or couch surfing.
Deep breath, Mama bear is maintaining her calm. Managing to accept that this is the way things are meant to be….this, the moving out is the natural progression of things.
Now that our house warming is done, rooms are set up and found, I have spent some time in my office. And boy oh boy do I love it. Yesterday morning I was in there with my tea in hand editing away. It was wonderful. So hopefully soon I will have some new stuff out there and ready to go but until then I soldier on.
Enjoy your day
Tuesday, 19 July 2016
We moved last weekend, going from our huge semi with a garage and unfinished basement that allowed me to collect (aka hoard) lots of great things that I *might* need in the future to a small bungalow without a garage and the basement is finished (so no storage). What a transition. We had the prerequisite garage sale and purged like you wouldn’t believe prior to the move and I still had too much stuff. Today Mr. Gloria makes the final trip to the dump to rid ourselves of the last of our excesses.
We moved a week ago and I am proud to say that I am now completely unpacked. All my pictures are hung, decorative items are out and on full display. Furniture is where I want it. I will admit I love moving, the unpacking is a great joy (mostly) for me – I love discovering the beautiful things I own again.
So with the unpacking came a revelation. We have a huge rec room / office space. A 15 foot long wall to house our books. I happily instructed my Dad where I wanted the seven foot tall shelves and then started loading them up. I gleefully filled shelves with my favourites, remembering fondly the stories that these tomes contained. All my Katie McKalisters, the Steven Kings, Mercedes Lackeys, Patrick Rothfusses, Brent Weeks and the Charlaine Harris’s. I relished the memories of my favourite characters, Talia, Nadine, Christian, Joy and Roxy not to mention Kvothe and Sookie… I spent long moments caressing their well-worn covers and thoroughly enjoying the sensation.
Then about 2/3 of the way through the multitude of boxes I came to a shocking stop. I was out of room on my shelves…and me with 1/3 of my beloved books still to be put away.
What’s a bibliophilic to do? Cry? Scream? Leave them in boxes? God forbid but…Purge? That possibility receives a resounding NO! We do not get rid of books, that would be akin to throwing away old friends. And we love our old friends dearly. So, I bought more book shelves… and the best part – they aren’t quite as full as they could be so I can buy more books