I have always been attracted to water and the life and world within it; perhaps it’s because I’m an Aquarian. Water can be hypnotic with its reflections and refractions of light and color, and it draws me to capture its many expressions. Here then is a sampling of local reflections and the sites that lay atop and within.
Now until Halloween of this year you can save 99 cents and get my ebook Kismet: A Ridgewood Tale free at my Smashwords page by entering coupon code AR96Q (not case-sensitive) when ordering. You can download the book in the following formats for your tablet, e-reader and/or computer: epub, mobi, pdf, lrf, pdb, txt, and html.
Kismet is a mystery story with a sci-fi element of time travel in it for adventure. You can read its history and different versions of it here at my blog by using Kismet as the keyword of your search, though it may take away the enjoyment of reading the final version first.
Kismet occurs in my fictional town Ridgewood, of course, and is about a diary from the past that warns Addison Taylor about her future. However, it’s Christmas and she’s too busy with her recent marriage and problems at work to worry about a book whose author is certainly delusional. But when she and her husband Daniel hike Myers Ridge in the spring, the diary’s warnings become real and force the couple headlong into mystery, suspense, and a strange world of past, present, and future. Can Addison and Daniel change the past to protect their future together?
I hope you take advantage of this offer and read the book to find out.
A short story from my book Old Bones.
*
THE COFFEEHOUSE WINDOW Larry sat beside reminded him of sitting in his car at the carwash. Except, this wasn’t Get Wet Express. This was another rainy day in Ridgewood, at Mabel’s, on Monday, around eight-thirty in the morning, and he sat across his sister Elaine, her lined face drawn up in a smile for a moment before her naked lips pursed and she blew gently at the steam rising from her white cup. Her blue eyes twinkled despite the fact that she had lost her husband a week ago.
“Damn weather,” Larry said. He clutched his cup next to his mouth and felt the heat warm his hands and face. It did not, however, go any farther. He looked at the coffee cup next to Elaine and closed his eyes.
“We’re moving,” Elaine said.
Larry opened his eyes. Elaine grinned at him.
“Stan and I found a place in Tampa. In Florida. I hear the weather is a lot nicer there.”
“Look, Elaine,” Larry said. He felt at odds to have to tell his sister that she needed to see a doctor. She had always been the healthy one in the family. “I need you to listen to me—”
“Although I’m told they get a lot of rain in the winter. But it—”
“Elaine—”
“It beats the snow,” she said happily, “and I’m getting too old for these terrible winters here.” She glanced at the empty seat next to her. Then she signaled at the waitress behind the counter near the front door.
“We need more sugar,” she said to the teenage girl who left the counter and approached their table.
The girl, whose white blouse and red skirt seemed too large on her short and thin frame, grabbed a sugar container from the table behind Larry and brought it to Elaine with a smile.
“Thank you, honey.” Elaine grinned.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No. Thank you.”
Larry looked up at curious brown eyes.
“Sir?” the girl said.
“Uh, no, I’m good. Thanks.”
The waitress scurried back to her counter, although Larry and Elaine were the only customers in the place.
Elaine sat the sugar container next to the full coffee cup next to her. Then, “You’re welcome, dear,” she said before returning her attention to Larry.
“You were saying?” she asked.
Larry sipped at his coffee before he said, “He’s dead.”
Continue reading “Old Bones: Different Perspectives [fiction]”
Occasionally, I get out my cameras and take photos of nature. Where I live, May is a month of blossoms all around me, and a time of beauty and rebirth. I used to compose my photos with ideas about the paintings I wanted to do. Now, while I photograph the outdoors, I compose stories in my head and then hurry to my notebooks and write until I am exhausted.
It is difficult to explain how the beauty in nature influences me to write dark fantasy stories. Perhaps it is the excitement of being outdoors that percolates my love of writing about imaginary things that have an edge of spookiness to them. It may be the Yin to my Yang. Who knows?
In any case, I always return home with beautiful photos and interesting stories to jot down. It’s win-win all around.
Steve Campbell 