Half Moons and Maiden Names (Birth of a Book)

7 Shirts for 7 Readers

2010-08-26T00:01:00.006-04:00

Bookish? Look the part!

Seven lucky winners will be drawn on September 12th.

Purchase a signed book - you're entered for each copy!
Purchase an audio book - you're entered for each DVD!
Leave Amazon feedback on the book - and you're entered twice!

Already made a purchase or left feedback? You're in!

Get your name in the hat!
BT, DT, Got the T

*** Congrats to the Winners! ***

monday's excerpt

2010-08-23T00:01:00.000-04:00

By the time he got to town, the sky was a bright grey, the air charged with electricity. It caused God’s creatures to move with haste.

And off to the west, a stand of Quaking Aspen turned up their leaves, the white undersides surrendering to the promise of rain. But the rain played fickle and would commit only on the spur of the moment.

Barns & No Bull

2010-08-21T22:25:00.005-04:00

annual Indie Authors Event in Greece, NY...

can you spot the myQuirks in this picture?

fun!

thirstday's excerpt

2010-08-19T00:01:00.000-04:00

He stood there a long time, leaning on the stall door, pondering the simple decisions, the ones that changed everything in a life and rippled outward, impacting everyone within range of the waves.

Audio Books Now Available!

2010-08-16T00:01:00.006-04:00

Hear the book in the author's voice.
Sarah Jane and Carter. Abram and Tahira. Flo, Danny Roots, and Rosetta. Narrative, dialog, and ambiance. Oh, and "Slave Song" from Chapter 60.

For a limited time, the elves at Pensive Pony Media
will automatically BOGO your purchase!
. Share with a friend
. Bury in a time capsule
. Place under the short leg of a rickety table

And back by popular demand... Outtakes, with the late, great Barry White! Enjoy on your mp3 player or any computer with a DVD reader.

Hear a snippet here!

thirstday's excerpt

2010-08-12T00:01:00.001-04:00

And now she’s behind him, up against him, lying close. Warm.

And again the tears come. The beauty of finally being in the place of his dream feels overwhelming. Being here is surreal. So, the hand on his shoulder, the love he’d been missing.

monday's excerpt

2010-08-09T00:01:00.001-04:00

And those months lasted forever, until she ran. Sans note. Sans explanation. And his attempts at survival led him to the barber where he fell into a painting of the sea, the cradle of water, dreams of the complete, nautical escape.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-08-05T07:02:00.001-04:00

“When will you return to Boston?”

“Oh, before the snow.” She kicked at the earth a little. He let the silence ask the question. “Not real excited,” she replied. "But there’s a house there, a family.” She looked off and spoke in a near whisper, “Of sorts.”

He gripped her hand tighter. “It’ll be good.”

“Yeah.”

monday's excerpt

2010-08-02T00:01:00.000-04:00

humorous that my best traveling days

were those that found me stationary

audio book: real progress!

2010-07-29T00:01:00.000-04:00

no really... i'm recording!

i'm up to page 213, and already half-crazed.

(i'll let you guess which half.)

special thanks to everyone who ordered books!

because you can never have enough...

2010-07-26T00:01:00.000-04:00

Half Moons and Maiden Names trailer
(crickets & clunky music also by yours truly.)

Now on Amazon!

2010-07-23T07:49:00.007-04:00

Half Moons and Maiden Names now appears on Amazon.

Over the next two weeks, additional features will become available... things like Look Inside, and connections to My Quirks and My Compass.

Advantages of ordering from:
. Amazon: You can review the book. (Thanks in advance!)
. Me: I can sign it for you. (I think you can review on Amazon if you've made a recent purchase.)

So, do whichever works best for you!
And thanks... immensely! I hope you love the story!

thirstday's excerpt

2010-07-22T00:01:00.000-04:00

And when the tail was pristine, the epitome of fineness, he spanked her left flank and came ‘round the side of her, and she half turned to watch him approach, her eyes sweet as a lover.

tickling that order button

2010-07-19T20:39:00.019-04:00

The magic truck arrived Tuesday!

To order a signed copy of Half Moons...
. Thank you - I hope you love the story!
. Kindly PayPal $20 to cdilmor1@gmail.com or send a check ($15, if I can hand-deliver). Remember to include shipping address and for whom I should sign the book.

If you prefer to order via Amazon, I expect the link to appear in a day or so.

Giving Back...
A portion of the proceeds for year 1 signed copies will be donated to Literacy Volunteers of Rochester, c/o Friends of Half Moons and Maiden Names.

Thank You...
Thank you for your inspiration, life-lessons, friendship...
you've helped make another journey priceless.
C~

it's more than mere coincidence
tonight's exquisite half moon

monday's excerpt

2010-07-19T00:01:00.000-04:00

your name
is a curse
that becomes a song
when the right singer plays it

thirstday's excerpt

2010-07-15T00:01:00.001-04:00

the fairest of lands
and sweetest of wines
fail to ensnare the consecrated
for their eye is on the next world

monday's excerpt

2010-07-12T00:01:00.001-04:00

compassion
is the awesome force
of the gentle

Interview with local ABC affiliate Norma Holland

2010-07-08T12:58:00.000-04:00

http://tinyurl.com/22qjwsf

thirstday's excerpt

2010-07-08T00:01:00.001-04:00

wondrous
the invitations
to play on another's stage

monday's excerpt

2010-07-05T00:01:00.000-04:00

so much to be learned
traveling roads and chapters, passengers and compatriots
hunger and laughter appropriately bold
yet how subtly the insecurities unfold

thirstday's excerpt

2010-07-01T00:01:00.002-04:00

there is a reason
man and beast speak in unique tongues
by design we must seek another path to understanding

monday's excerpt

2010-06-28T00:01:00.000-04:00

blur the lines, people
the ones that divide you dimensionally
and rejoice in the new palette

thirstday's excerpt

2010-06-24T00:01:00.000-04:00

what’s left to learn i cannot teach you
what’s been bandaged i can’t heal

monday's excerpt

2010-06-21T00:01:00.000-04:00

It wasn’t often that she got to enjoy this chair, the rocker. But the ladies were out tonight.

She intentionally tried not to rock with the beat of the clock, but the pairing seemed to occur naturally, as if the chair needed to prove that it, too, was crafted for keeping time.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-06-17T00:01:00.002-04:00

He slowly turned his new key in the lock. The deadbolt retracted from the wall with a satisfying click. He locked it again, just to feel the inner mechanisms, the alignment of key and lock pins. He did this several times, as if rehearsing, as if authenticating his identity over and over.

Things closed to me are opening today.

monday's excerpt

2010-06-14T00:01:00.003-04:00

She walks in and pulls off Carter’s boots while he lies half asleep.

He's vaguely aware of the sound of pouring water. She discovers the letter near the basin and uses two hands to bring it to her face. It’s as if she can’t read. Instead, she studies the script, traces it like it’s intricate art.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-06-10T00:01:00.000-04:00

Even from this distance, she was a vision. Body of sweet cream. Hair of chocolate, spilling everywhere, but deliciously. As he stepped closer, her dress and face became clearer.

She sang in English, but in a dialect he could not place.

“I long to sit and talk with you by the shore” sounded so rich and sweet and alluring. “I lawng to sit and tawk with you by the shoowa.”

monday's excerpt

2010-06-07T00:01:00.000-04:00

the only path

to love or freedom or greatness

is the path taken

thirstday's excerpt

2010-06-03T00:01:00.001-04:00

And he helped to bury her—this resting soul, a woman he never met. And he leaned on the shovel when the survivors came to thank him. He respected their sacred pain but selfishly hungered for their eyes on him, any eyes, any form of human connection.

monday's excerpt

2010-05-31T00:01:00.002-04:00

He wondered if his words were too brazen, and considered starting the letter over, perhaps writing multiple versions and choosing the best.

In the end, he decided that it was this letter that spoke his heart. If she is offended, then it’s at me—not at some gentleman dressed up as me. He needed his passion to show. He needed her to feel the things that he would give her.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-05-27T00:01:00.001-04:00

Then night again, nights lined up like train cars.
Silhouettes of silent strangers taking him in like
so much scenery, revealing nothing in return.

monday's excerpt

2010-05-24T00:01:00.020-04:00

She felt Flo’s eyes judging her.

As in a dream, she walked tentatively, the love note all she had to hide her nakedness—its creases and folds, its revealing double-entendre, words that scarcely covered her.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-05-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

And he was conscious of his breathing.

And he inhaled the air that Elizzie once expelled, the air of Plato, the air of Jesus.

monday's excerpt

2010-05-17T00:01:00.001-04:00

we gain perspective in this world or we do not—our choice

not all will acquire a taste for the blue notes,

for the barbs of sweet irony

Milestone: off to the Editor

2010-05-14T00:01:00.002-04:00

off she goes

Friday morning

to the Editor...

time for a breather of sorts!

thirstday's excerpt

2010-05-13T00:01:00.000-04:00

you need not audition for a role of prominence

those positions are taken

and brute force will only tighten my knob and lockset

come and softly play your part and I will love you

monday's excerpt

2010-05-10T00:01:00.000-04:00

When Danny opened his hand, he found the horse hair that Carter had braided and strung through the wooden flower born just this morn. Maggie. The mane reminded Danny that his horse walked in the spirit world, the flower that she would forever live.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-05-06T00:01:00.000-04:00

He wasn’t conscious more than a couple seconds when he remembered the dream.

Rosetta stepped from behind the velvet curtain

with the ease of a thousand performances

all sequins and lashes

a full evening dress and half curtsey

she met and dared every eye

save those in the balcony
where he sat dizzy and aware of the precipice, the inadequacy of the railing

monday's excerpt

2010-05-03T00:01:00.000-04:00

I lik you. Come north wish me.

Abram

thirstday's excerpt

2010-04-29T00:01:00.003-04:00

feels like somethin’ picked me up

from someplace rough and dropped me

soft-like into this world

and yet these strangers…

they seem to have lived inside of me forever

and it’s only now that I can see their faces

monday's excerpt

2010-04-26T00:01:00.001-04:00

her portrait

mostly naked but wistfully draped

is twice as alluring revealing only half the prize

thirstday's excerpt

2010-04-22T00:01:00.000-04:00

ironic, this journey’s purpose: to escape people, to evade

yet in its sweetest chapters i stood surrounded,

captivated by characters beyond imagination

monday's excerpt

2010-04-19T00:01:00.001-04:00

And Carter would read to Gertie that night, words penned by another. His own were too young, provided inadequate comfort. But pages from a book... they were sufficiently mesmerizing. And she rested.

And at a chapter’s end, he would look to see if she wished for more. And her eyes would be on his face. Not meeting his glance, not on the lips. But deeper, seeing through him, at the spirit level.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-04-15T00:01:00.001-04:00

And they watched him through the trees as he rode, frames of man and horse flickering, face becoming mosaic pieces, less and less apparent until he was but a blur, then shadow, then memory.

monday's excerpt

2010-04-12T00:01:00.002-04:00

Smoke poured from the shuttered windows like black water through shark gills, hinting at the hell within. The same from under the eaves, noxious steam about to blow the lid off a kettle.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-04-08T00:01:00.001-04:00

Carter leaned in and whispered, “I really like your hat.”

“You’ve seen this one.”

He looked again. “I know. But… I really like it today.”

monday's excerpt

2010-04-05T00:01:00.001-04:00

He waited for them on the little steps. It got so close to the top of the hour that the music started inside. Madge.

And then he saw them—the buggy and the black horse, the regal sisters. One at the reins and one at the Remington.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-04-01T00:01:00.003-04:00

They had reached a point—the apex of a relationship—where trust required no spoken affirmation. Trust was simply worn and shared, a blanket. And words—no matter how discreetly woven—had no place in the tapestry.

monday's excerpt

2010-03-29T00:01:00.002-04:00

Carter led Tara the rest of the way back, not so much to give the horse a break as to simply let her look upon him for a spell.

She followed with head hung low, wanting to be on the man’s level, and at intervals, Carter stopped and turned and just loved her. It was a slow day, made for giving, and it felt as lovely as the getting.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-03-25T00:01:00.001-04:00

and when i bow down e’er so low
it will be before a God
who’s ne’r insisted
i do so

monday's excerpt

2010-03-22T00:01:00.000-04:00

She’d arrived during the night, while he slept in his new residence just two streets inland. Somehow, she’d slipped into her berth—bow out, ready for a new sortie—without waking him.

And steam came from the pier, shots of it intermittently escaping through relief valves. Cranes pivoted on her deck, men and ropes straining to get her cargo down onto solid ground. Whistles signaled once when a crate landed, twice when the ropes were free. And horses nodded in anticipation, exhaling steam of their own, glad to be part of this action.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-03-18T00:01:00.003-04:00

'Tis near the bottom of my inkwell.

But please know that—after my feather fades and scratches dreamy-silent curves—I shall document in daydreams the moment you sat so near, when this hand knew the chiseled structure of your face, when this heart knew fullness...

monday's excerpt

2010-03-15T00:01:00.001-04:00

“Oh, and,” Claire slowly let on, “it appears we may soon have house guests.”

“Really!” Mrs. Klingbeil inquired.

Claire sipped her tea, and slowly—to build the suspense. Then she reached for the sugar bowl and pretended to be deeply interested in its contents.

“Oh, do tell!” added Mrs. Farnham, growing impatient.

“Well, we had a letter this week from a cousin in Tennessee.” She sipped again. “It appears that a couple of handy men—who aided them in building a sunroom addition—may be traveling north, through our fair city.”

“Good heavens! Are they kin?”

When Claire hesitated, the two women looked to sister Kathryn, who shrugged, palms up. “Well, they’re someone’s kin!”

thirstday's excerpt

2010-03-11T00:01:00.002-05:00

Sarah Jane married—against her father’s wishes—when she was fifteen. He was afraid for her, afraid for himself. Childbirth had robbed Sarah Jane of her mother, him of his wife.

“But, Daddy, Shane loves me!”

“Listen, there’s time for that! You're too young to understand what it means to be a wife!”

She stormed out, not in anger but frustration. How can he be so blind? She’d had Shane since she was twelve.

monday's excerpt

2010-03-08T00:01:00.000-05:00

show me

but don’t tell

your words are too intense

put it down on paper

that I may experience

your inside pictures

thirstday's excerpt

2010-03-04T00:01:00.001-05:00

He leaned on the life rail and felt dew penetrate his shirt, letting the night touch him intimately. Clouds hinted that they would soon reveal tonight’s half moon, in good faith showing just a glimpse—wisps of hair, some cleavage.

He was patient. He took the bait, would wait. And when she finally stepped out front, she cared not that she had an audience of but one, for she held that one and held him good.

monday's excerpt

2010-03-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

And they walked under the pergola, where Kathryn whirled ‘round one of the uprights a couple times. Then they headed out to the road. And there it was, this thing suspended in the heavens, almost perfectly halved by darkness, tugging at them once again, pulling even the song from the crickets.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-02-25T10:07:00.002-05:00

She’d been Flo’s for eight years, came when she was just eight, never knew a washcloth or shoes until Flo saw to it. Never had a dry bed until Flo believed she could. Never knew why a woman’s body did what it did until Flo explained it.

And maybe I taught her too much. Too well. She took it with her—everything I showed her, she took with her.

And as her lids grew heavy, she pulled her arms in tighter against her, imagining a daughter from that belly, pretending she had the power to see to this, too.

monday's excerpt

2010-02-21T00:01:00.002-05:00

The horses were wheeled, and so eager that Kathryn was pinned against her seat back. Tahira held the hand strap to keep from coming out of hers.

At the safest opportunity, Kathryn invited her to come sit with her so she didn’t have to ride backward.

“That would make me positively nauseous!”

thirstday's excerpt

2010-02-18T00:01:00.000-05:00

And they would return to their room and unbutton their outfits and laugh about the width of a fellow diner or the waiter’s haircut. And, again, it felt glorious to be out in the world and allowed to be silly.

And they would play cards. And Kathryn would voice the need for a cigar, and would threaten to go looking for one, and Tahira would find her—in Kathryn’s own words—positively naughty. And in three weeks, not once did they finish a card game. A hand here, a hand there, but never to completion. Yet Kathryn had never laughed so hard, not at any of the county tournaments she had entered over the years.

monday's excerpt

2010-02-15T00:01:00.000-05:00

Only night sighs remained—the cyclical surrender to sleep. Then the start of dreams, when the shape of all things changed.

Kathryn was running, chased. And she would call out, softly at first, ”No… don’t take him. Just... please! God, let him stay with me. I promise… I promise.”

Then the whispering, the frantic negotiation with her captors, her private villains. And she would play all parts—the merciful and pitiless—every role in her concentric monologue.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-02-11T00:01:00.000-05:00

Everything she owned fit in that bag—the one the family lent her, the “overnighter.“ A spare top that Miss Kathryn handed down. Two pairs of summer things, two pairs of warm things. Five socks. Various coins in a snap purse. A brush for her hair and salt rag for her teeth.

She’d been standing there—bag in hand—for close to half an hour, but in her glory.

At the sound of horse hooves, Kathryn emerged from the Kinsman residence. Her feet hit the bottom step precisely as the horses came to a halt.

monday's excerpt

2010-02-08T00:01:00.001-05:00

The responsibility of reading page two sickened him. Peeling down a corner of Dottie’s letter was like lifting a sheet at the morgue—silent, surreal. Yeah. That’s him. Even the handwriting was dead, now. Only echoes remained.

thirstday's excerpt

2010-02-04T00:01:00.000-05:00

Baako put the stopper back in the canteen and licked his lips. Carter looked up from the map. “How much of that do we have left?”

Baako pulled the stopper back out and closed one eye. “It’s pert near full.”

Carter returned to the map, measuring a day’s travel with thumb and finger. “It’s got to last us another day. Maybe two.”

Baako weighed the options. “Okay. So, we drink three quarters of it today and the other three quarters tomorrow.”

monday's excerpt

2010-02-01T00:01:00.001-05:00

Dusty confessed that he was nervous about getting the windows and the glass sized. But Carter said he would take charge of that. “I think we can score it with a chisel—scratch against a straight edge, and then snap it over a board.”

“Is that how they do it?”

“Yeah, I saw a man do it in Georgia once. He was making a window out of stained glass. He would score it with a little scratchin’ tool, and then tap the glass until it cracked. It was incredible because it would break exactly on the line.”

“Okay, then. You’ll be our glass man!”

thirstday's excerpt

2010-01-28T00:01:00.000-05:00

She was beautiful, a Palomino—tan, blonde. Time had kissed her with a perfect dusting of grey at her eyes, forelock, fetlocks. And Carter contemplated what kind of magnificence it took for one to be down, down for good now, and yet to retain such grace.

monday's excerpt

2010-01-24T23:00:00.002-05:00

the pen and the ink
can ne’er say enough
can ne’er properly trace the heart on parchment

but it’s in the layer beneath the ink—in the simple, childlike trying—that we reveal our truest, sweetest intent

thirstday's excerpt

2010-01-21T00:01:00.003-05:00

sometimes, places

the magic ones

should remain unnamed

too the people

the beautiful spirits across our path

for neither the hum of the hillside

nor the curve of her face requires it

and neither risks being forgotten

monday's excerpt

2010-01-18T00:01:00.001-05:00

sad, this Kentucky  road
prints that in the dust remain but a day
 wind and rain swearing, declaring that we were never here

thirstday's excerpt

2010-01-14T00:01:00.000-05:00

Rosetta got in and sat at the boat’s stern. Carter pushed off from shore, then leapt into the bow, falling not-so-gracefully into the craft. She laughed. She laughed a lot. He stepped over the front seat and sat in the middle one, facing aft, facing Rosetta. Then he paddled.

It felt peculiar venturing forward in reverse, but he put his trust in her vision, content to be blind for a while.

monday's excerpt

2010-01-11T00:01:00.000-05:00

the sun still makes me squint, react

but since you’ve sailed I can no longer feel it

on my cheek

thirstday's excerpt

2010-01-07T00:01:00.001-05:00

Carter thought he caught a glimpse of a bird entering a birdhouse—one of the three that he built when the boys went off to war. He watched as he passed, but failed to detect movement. He craned his head as long as he could, then decided that he had seen but a shadow.

Hattie stood when she heard the hooves. Carter touched the brim of his hat, and she waved. One by one, the others stood to see the man returning on horseback, each waving.

And behind him, while his eyes were on the help, the house wren peeked from its new home—Tad’s house—then flew to catch another moth.

monday's excerpt

2010-01-04T00:01:00.000-05:00

And she felt herself falling into that sweet, familiar unknown, where we close our eyes in order to be lost. And when he kissed her more deeply, she could taste the onion from this morning’s potatoes, and she loved it even more this time ‘round—the flavor and her newfound hunger.

thirstday's excerpt

2009-12-29T22:16:00.005-05:00

only in the bricks and stones we lay

only in the paint, the shapes, and words

do we outlive our names

monday's excerpt

2009-12-28T00:01:00.001-05:00

By suppertime, they had birthed the skeleton of a room, the bones and structure of a space. Dusty carved “1861” on a beam in a corner that only the most observant would find. And in carving, he became a ghost to future generations.

But someone from the waking world would lay their hand upon these beams, would trace the numbers, and—like joining ends of two morse cables—bridge the real and ethereal worlds.

An artist of the twenty-first century would defy all logic and purchase Home with Barn on 20 Acres—Seller Motivated sight unseen. On a whim, she would follow a calling and migrate a thousand miles to be there. Because.

thirstday's excerpt

2009-12-24T00:01:00.002-05:00

Each morn after they broke camp, they ate an apple that Carter fetched from the food pack. And each morn, the apple would be progressively softer, having traveled across the state—aged, jostled, and bruised.

John bit. “Oh.” He showed the brown that his bite revealed.

Carter said nothing. He bit his own fruit, discovered the same, and went right on eating, smiling. He found it ironic that a slave balked at food that the master considered edible. But rather than feeling incredulous, he had fun with the situation.

“Sweet, huh? Yeah,” he said with a chuckle.

monday's excerpt

2009-12-21T00:01:00.002-05:00

The two said good-night to their hosts and walked across the yard, the house light losing its grip, surrendering them to the dark.

In the barn, they spread their sleeping tarp and blankets, and sprawled out. Deep sighs, then silence sang in their ears. They felt their breaths returning home, owned again, warm in their chests.

It felt strange to have a ceiling—boards and beams and bales of straw above—and not a sea of stars.

It was damp tonight, and when they rolled over, lower backs and backsides paired up. By now, they thought nothing of proximity, the notion of men touching. Warmth was but an element of survival.

thirstday's excerpt

2009-12-17T00:01:00.000-05:00

She would wonder where the hell he was. And she would pace, then stop and cross her arms. And the help would say “Excuse me, Ma’am,” and walk around her. And for his seven minutes of tranquility he would pay.

And when he arrived, sat, she would decide whether to command her eyes to bore through him or punish him with silence.

And he would chew very slowly, never faster than the tick of the mantle clock, as calm as its pendulum. And his eyes would go there to appreciate the perfection of the timepiece. And he would mix his peas with his mashed potatoes and smile, and they would become one.

monday's excerpt

2009-12-14T00:01:00.009-05:00

Rosetta played.

She started on the lower, thicker strings, making the notes tip-toe—sneaky, light steps at a 1-2 count.

Carter immediately felt her aura, how the room became hers, resonated. He noticed her feet, her stance—like that of an archer. One foot on the target, the other angled for balance. He admired her strong foundation, but longed to know her higher levels, her femininity.

He met her sister's glance, and she closed her lips over her teeth—shy—yet her eyes were fearless and remained fixed on his.

thirstday's excerpt

2009-12-10T00:01:00.002-05:00

Dad bartered his favorite horse for simple coffins. The woodworker was gracious—he helped Dad & Carter get the seven to the site, helped lower the souls, even stayed for the service. After, Tonga was tied to the man’s wagon and off they rode. Dad watched that stallion as long as he could, convinced that he was trying to look back over his shoulder, fighting the rope.

It took an hour to shovel, lay some stones, place the crosses.

When they got home, Dad sketched where the seven rested, printed their names and spoke each aloud. He dated the record and put it in the invoice drawer. Who is ever gonna see this? When he closed the thing it squeaked the length of the drawer, the bones of an old man, resisting closure. He leaned back, saw his steed still fighting that rope, and wept without making a sound.

monday's excerpt

2009-12-07T00:01:00.001-05:00

Carter wasn’t sure if what he was hearing was melancholy, or holy, or if the notes simply found their way to his core, ripped open his shirt, and—with fingers spread across his chest—sent a low and steady voltage through him.

thirstday's excerpt

2009-12-03T00:01:00.002-05:00

He looked over at John—under his blanket, on his side, hands under his head. Even with eyes closed, he wore a soft smile. This was unusual, but welcome.

The night bugs steered his mind, commandeered him back to Georgia. Way back, even before... her. It’s summer again and the streets are lamp-lit, hot, spilling over in celebration. A band plays and a storm taunts, schemes on the black horizon. It’s the last night of the carnival, and the moustached conductor drives the tempo faster to outsmart the rain.

monday's excerpt

2009-11-30T00:01:00.000-05:00

As the two were leaving, Carter called out, “What’s her name?”

Danny uttered it but it caught in his throat, escaping in pieces, and he was forced to repeat it. “Maggie.”

Carter figured it would take John and Danny ten minutes to be away, but he gave them twenty.

He rested a hand on her neck, played with her hair. He felt compelled to kiss her—in that deep place between her girl-lashes—and she exhaled with a voice nearly human. He pulled away and she nodded just once, her eyes locked on the sky over Carter’s shoulder, above the field, across the road. Blue would be the last color she registered.

thirstday's excerpt

2009-11-26T07:03:00.004-05:00

But Carter believed that there was a child inside of that man.

And if he had to rip a door off its hinges to locate him, he would. He would pull John—no, entice him—through this new portal and announce his freedom and demonstrate how to stand his ground.

Soon. Had to be soon.

monday's excerpt

2009-11-23T00:01:00.005-05:00

John stayed by the tree, studying the paper snowflakes, fingering dried needles that fell to the sheet below.

But then he heard Mama cry.

She was crying really hard. He looked up to see Mary Ethel talking to Lettia. She looked down at him, handed Lettia some linens, then walked downstairs and across the room. She came within ten feet, held out her hand.

She led him out the back door and across the yard, past the henhouse, past the smokehouse, to the swing. She signaled for him to sit, and then just pushed him. Just pushed him.

It was minutes before she said, “Baby’s comin’ today.”

thirstday's excerpt

2009-11-19T00:01:00.002-05:00

And—as it should be in the world—the new generation would rewrite the pages of love, would redefine color and tone, would throw on the fire the cruel rulebooks of its elders.

And—as it has been for eons—young lovers would be cast out of Eden, shunned, made to question what was already perfect, holy.

monday's excerpt

2009-11-16T00:01:00.000-05:00

And Gertie just knelt in the dirt and wiped the seven cold foreheads, soothing them, offering peace when no deeper peace could be had.

From that day forward, Gertie slept in the house.

Not well—seven restless souls frequented her bed, unaware of the hour, caring not that she required peace of her own. And she would walk the earth in a stupor, empty and unseeing, a slave unable to pick, or fetch, or serve even herself.

thirstday's excerpt

2009-11-12T00:01:00.000-05:00

In the darkness, they declared every moon phase their new favorite, wondrous.

They stood barefoot on creaky floors, and when they shed their garments, the day’s fatigue was shed with them. Their hands finally found something soft and they gripped hard, desperate not to lose it. Their lips brushed the curves of their daydreams, skin sweetened by perspiration now dried to a whisper, articulating their most excruciatingly personal fragrances.

monday's excerpt

2009-11-09T00:01:00.000-05:00

Carter bit off a piece—it was like shoe leather, but the taste was phenomenal! He closed his eyes and went back to that day. Ridin’ up, smoke in the air, and Kelly Wood comin’ out the house. The screen door slammin’ and that blonde hair just hittin’ the sun.

“Well, hey, Carter! What do ya know?”

They wandered, talkin’ about work, about women, about nothin’. They shared a pipe, the herb that Kelly Wood grew on the south side of the barn. Wind chimes flanked his little garden—bells and glass and flattened forks that made music when the wind-spirits sauntered through, blessing all that grew, sacred.

thirstday's excerpt

2009-11-05T00:01:00.001-05:00

He peered with one eye, bow drawn, arrow eager.

But then he saw the redhead. Hair graced her shoulders and half of her back, skin so white that it glowed in the dappled light of the forest. She stopped before reaching the top of the hill, then turned back and laughed. She dropped something, and her trio found it uproarious.

They carried their clothes and played the part of wood nymphs, too wet to dress. Their hair was coiffed by nature, already forming crimps and curls and perfect ringlets.

monday's excerpt

2009-11-02T00:01:00.005-05:00

With two fingers, she moved the bedroom curtain lace to the side. The mare swished black flies with her tail. She misses her stable mate, her Shadow. She is half without her.

She let go of the lace, touched her belly. Three spirits had come from her, but it was likely that none would follow. If somewhere the spirit of her little girl—who looked and laughed like him—waited by a stream, would she wait an eternity or would another claim her, love her?

The stream would run forever, infinitely patient; but such could not be expected of a child.

Thirstday's excerpt

2009-10-29T00:01:00.001-04:00

So he took his sweet time unbridling the horse, brushing out her coat, then watering and feeding both mares. All the while, the sun crept from the barn—its departure inaudible, profound.

He leaned on the stall door and just watched, just listened—the nosing of the hay and the grinding of the grain. And he let the beautiful horse smells enter him, venture like smoke, like good medicine, up his nostrils and into his psyche.

How is it that a beast can emit scents as evocative as a woman on a Sunday walk? Then he smiled as all things quietly made sense. These two are mares, after all.

Monday's excerpt

2009-10-26T00:01:00.000-04:00

He pulled out the cuff link, studied the “K,” and offered it to her.

She exhaled. “Where?”
“Back porch.”

When she took it, he closed his hand around hers—her delicate palm, her piano fingers. She felt the caress of his thumb, the warm hunger of his calluses. Each hand—his and hers—held the promise of unlimited potential. Yet each clung to possibilities that would forever lay sleeping.

Thirstday's excerpt

2009-10-22T00:01:00.002-04:00

Over the split-rail fence at the property line, a quilt hung—pretty, but out of place. The morning breeze was barely discernible, but enough to flap the bottom left corner back and forth, like the tail of a fawn learning to graze.

It was hard to make out the design of the thing, and impossible to decipher the colors, but he was familiar with the lore associated with its placement.

Monday's excerpt

2009-10-19T00:01:00.027-04:00

Her hair was the color of sand, and the wind treated it as such, blowing fine wisps at her edges, giving the illusion of both oasis and mirage, a promise and a lie.

Men would try and men would fail to mimic that wind. She had but to turn her head and new wind would find her, enticing her with promises of its own.

Thirstday's excerpt

2009-10-15T00:01:00.002-04:00

Fellow night travelers were cause for heart palpitations, suspicion. Horses were openly curious, but men… men were guarded, intentionally dark in shape and low of voice, each party cloaked in the nefarious.
Hushed pleasantries were exchanged, but with pistols drawn, concealed under coats.
And once they passed, he would rein the horse to a halt and cock an ear, ensuring that the hooves faded, becoming one with the music of the night world.

Monday's excerpt

2009-10-12T00:01:00.004-04:00

He manhandled the last burlap sack, shouldering it to the barn. He hoped her voice would trail off, but it followed, chasing him like flame chases a stream of turpentine. He swallowed every retort, suppressing the venom intended for her and that good-fer-nothin’ bastard back in town.

Friday's excerpt

2009-10-09T00:01:00.003-04:00

I feel out of breath, out of energy.

I didn’t realize how deeply my spirit was tied…
such is your allure.

You might think you left without me

but your spirit offered its arm to mine

and she accepted

leaving me empty, leaving me.

And I shall rock this porch

should you return her

should you return.

Thirstday's excerpt

2009-10-08T00:01:00.004-04:00

And in daylight they slept, hidden from the world as if in darkness, dreaming less and less of the comforts left behind and more of this place they called “The North.”

Monday's excerpt

2009-10-05T00:01:00.007-04:00

He held it lovingly, like it were a real bird, a house wren. He ran his thumb along that sweet spot where the back meets the tail feathers, the place that quietly demands to be stroked, loved.

He noted the delicate perfection, though his own hands were incapable of such detail. He marveled at the symmetry, though uniformity may forever elude him. He admired its smoothness, though his own knife may never achieve the same.