Tag Archives: amreading

WRITERS UNITE! ANTHOLOGIES: DIMENSIONS OF LOVE

Dimensions of Love

Now Available on Amazon.com

Dimensions of Love Volume One

Dimensions of Love Volume Two

The greatest of these is love….

No other word evokes more emotion than love, be it romantic, familial, or platonic. The Writers Unite! authors explore the passion, joy, hate, desire, longing, pain, and affection that represent love in all its forms in this collection of short stories and poems.

SUCCESS PHILOSOPHIES WITH DR. CHUBACK: EPISODE 36

In our quest to assist writers in becoming the best they can be and remain motivated, we would like to introduce you to John Chuback, M.D. A cardiovascular surgeon, Dr. Chuback found his goals waylaid by his lack of motivation.

In a series of interviews with Paul W. Reeves, host on Impact Radio USA, Dr. Chuback continues his discussion of the tools leading to success with his book “Make Your Own Damn Cheese: Understanding, Navigating, and Mastering the 3 Mazes of Success.”

Please click on the link below to hear Episode #36 of SUCCESS PHILOSOPHIES WITH DR. CHUBACK, the first episode in the second series, and start enhancing your journey toward success today.

DR. JOHN CHUBACK, a cardiovascular surgeon from New Jersey, is the author of, “Make Your Own Damn Cheese: Understanding, Navigating, and Mastering the 3 Mazes of Success,” “The Straight A Handbook – The 50 Most Powerful Secrets For Ultimate Success In And Out Of The Classroom” and other books.

DR. CHUBACK joins HOST PAUL W. REEVES weekly to discuss his books, “The Straight A Handbook – The 50 Most Powerful Secrets For Ultimate Success In And Out Of The Classroom” and “Make Your Own Damn Cheese“, each of which explores the human mind and becoming all that you can be.

Throughout this portion of the series, Dr. Chuback will discuss “Make Your Own Damn Cheese“, and the research behind his success philosophies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Audiobooks on Audible

The Straight a Handbook: The 50 Most Powerful Secrets for Ultimate Success in and Out of the Classroom Audible Logo Audible Audiobook – Unabridged

Written by John Chuback, M. D.
Narrated by Paul W. Reeves, Ed. D.

Click for Audible version on Amazon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previous Episodes of “Success Philosophies With Dr. Chuback”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr. John Chuback

Picture

Dr. John Chuback was born and raised in Bergen County and graduated from the Dwight Englewood School. He earned his medical degree from New Jersey Medical School at UMDNJ, in Newark. Dr. Chuback then completed a five-year General Surgical Residency at Monmouth Medical Center (MMC). Dr. Chuback is the author of Make Your Own Damn CheeseKaboing, and The Straight A Handbook.

All books are available on Amazon. com. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Impact Radio USA

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Welcome to ​IMPACT RADIO USA, where we strive to provide the best in news, talk, sports, and music 24 hours a day, 52 weeks per year. Our goal is to keep you as the most informed and entertained Internet Radio audience.

As we are continuing to add content on a daily basis, please feel free to click on the “LISTEN NOW” button at the top of the page to hear us 24 hours a day. While you are here, please check out all of our links to our shows, our podcast page, our blog, and learn how YOU can host your own show with us.  Thank you for listening to IMPACT RADIO USA!!!

Impact Radio USA ListenNow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paul W. Reeves 

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Paul W. Reeves, Ed. D. is an author, radio talk show host, educator, composer/arranger, and professional musician.

Listen to “Dr. Paul’s Family Talk” on Impact Radio USA and visit Paul’s websitehttps://paulwreeves.comfor more information on his books and CDs.

https://www.impactradiousa.com

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is book-cover.jpg

SUCCESS PHILOSOPHIES WITH DR. CHUBACK: EPISODE 35

In our quest to assist writers in becoming the best they can be and remain motivated, we would like to introduce you to John Chuback, M.D. A cardiovascular surgeon, Dr. Chuback found his goals waylaid by his lack of motivation.

In a series of interviews with Paul W. Reeves, host on Impact Radio USA, Dr. Chuback continues his discussion of the tools leading to success with his book “Make Your Own Damn Cheese: Understanding, Navigating, and Mastering the 3 Mazes of Success.”

Please click on the link below to hear Episode #35 of SUCCESS PHILOSOPHIES WITH DR. CHUBACK, the first episode in the second series, and start enhancing your journey toward success today.

DR. JOHN CHUBACK, a cardiovascular surgeon from New Jersey, is the author of, “Make Your Own Damn Cheese: Understanding, Navigating, and Mastering the 3 Mazes of Success,” “The Straight A Handbook – The 50 Most Powerful Secrets For Ultimate Success In And Out Of The Classroom” and other books.

DR. CHUBACK joins HOST PAUL W. REEVES weekly to discuss his books, “The Straight A Handbook – The 50 Most Powerful Secrets For Ultimate Success In And Out Of The Classroom” and “Make Your Own Damn Cheese“, each of which explores the human mind and becoming all that you can be.

Throughout this portion of the series, Dr. Chuback will discuss “Make Your Own Damn Cheese“, and the research behind his success philosophies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Audiobooks on Audible

The Straight a Handbook: The 50 Most Powerful Secrets for Ultimate Success in and Out of the Classroom Audible Logo Audible Audiobook – Unabridged

Written by John Chuback, M. D.
Narrated by Paul W. Reeves, Ed. D.

Click for Audible version on Amazon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previous Episodes of “Success Philosophies With Dr. Chuback”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr. John Chuback

Picture

Dr. John Chuback was born and raised in Bergen County and graduated from the Dwight Englewood School. He earned his medical degree from New Jersey Medical School at UMDNJ, in Newark. Dr. Chuback then completed a five-year General Surgical Residency at Monmouth Medical Center (MMC). Dr. Chuback is the author of Make Your Own Damn CheeseKaboing, and The Straight A Handbook.

All books are available on Amazon. com. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Impact Radio USA

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is impact-radio-usa-modern-large.jpg

Welcome to ​IMPACT RADIO USA, where we strive to provide the best in news, talk, sports, and music 24 hours a day, 52 weeks per year. Our goal is to keep you as the most informed and entertained Internet Radio audience.

As we are continuing to add content on a daily basis, please feel free to click on the “LISTEN NOW” button at the top of the page to hear us 24 hours a day. While you are here, please check out all of our links to our shows, our podcast page, our blog, and learn how YOU can host your own show with us.  Thank you for listening to IMPACT RADIO USA!!!

Impact Radio USA ListenNow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paul W. Reeves 

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is 11700698_10204467697476836_1401739541151934347_o.jpg

Paul W. Reeves, Ed. D. is an author, radio talk show host, educator, composer/arranger, and professional musician.

Listen to “Dr. Paul’s Family Talk” on Impact Radio USA and visit Paul’s websitehttps://paulwreeves.com for more information on his books and CDs.

https://www.impactradiousa.com/

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is book-cover.jpg

Lisa Criss Griffin: Screaming Haint Woods 

Welcome to Write the Story! Each month Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms.  Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support! 

Images are free-use images and do not require attribution. Image by StockSnap from Pixabay.

Screaming Haint Woods 

Lisa Criss Griffin

Perry sighed, kicking pebbles on the shallow shoreline down the slope from their campsite in frustration. One skittered noisily across the other rocks and plopped into the rushing water. It rolled away into oblivion, just like some of their supplies had done earlier. Nobody expected the fresh mammoth rockslide that had partially diverted the river current into a smaller, rarely explored branch. Although the smaller creek also fed into the same lake eventually, it was rustic, uncharted territory…with a legend. A legend told around campfires by the locals.

Goosebumps rose on his arms as the evening breeze picked up. It carried a damp chill, and some noises he wasn’t sure he could identify. Perry gathered some wood for a campfire, since he and Libbie certainly weren’t going any farther today on the whitewater rapids roaring between the limestone cliffs of the flooded creek branch. They had been fortunate to wash up on the pebbled beach, their canoe questionably intact. 

Libbie sat on a log rubbing her swollen ankle, hoping the bruising would not be too bad. An involuntary shudder shook her lithe frame as she recalled hitting the edge of the unexpected landslide, the awful sound of the bottom of the canoe grating as it spun around, almost dumping her in the roiling rapids. She had panicked and used a large rock to thrust herself back into the swirling canoe, barely conscious of the quick pain in her ankle at the time. In doing so, Libbie almost capsized the canoe, much to the dismay of her boat mate Perry. A stream of provisions spilled into the roaring river, never to be seen again. 

The next scraping sound she heard was the canoe grinding up onto the pebbled beach. Libbie raised her head up and peered over the side of the canoe, relieved Perry found a place to stop. He helped her out of the canoe, up the slope and onto the log. The pain in her left ankle intensified as she attempted to put weight on it. She could walk, but barely. The prospect of being stuck out in the wilds with a significant injury caused her head to swim. Her throat tightened ominously. No. No! She was not going to give in to the anxiety surging through her body. She filled her lungs and released the air slowly through her pursed, trembling lips to combat the panic attack before it got out of hand. 

The sound of a lighter flicking caught Libbie’s attention. She watched as the fire grew in size and intensity, the heat from the flames warming her damp clothes. A calm began to tamp down the anxiety plaguing her. They had survived. 

She looked at Perry, who was busy moving what was left of their gear from the canoe to higher ground. A lump formed in her throat as she watched him. They had only been dating a few months, and she liked him way more than she wanted to admit. She supposed this misadventure would reveal their true colors to each other. A sheen of tears lingered in her eyes as she watched him struggle to move the canoe higher up the slope.

“I’m so sorry, Perry.”

“What? For what?”

“Well…I didn’t mean to almost capsize the canoe and hurt my ankle. I’m really sorry.”

Perry turned the canoe over by the edge of the natural clearing, then eased down on the same log next to her. His hand caressed the side of her face tenderly as their gazes met.

“Libbie…I am just thankful it wasn’t any worse. You have nothing to be sorry about. You could have been killed. Both of us could have easily perished. We were very lucky to have landed here when we did, and with some provisions.”

Perry gently wiped a stray tear rolling down Libbie’s cheek with his thumb.

“I suppose we should toast our survival and eat something before the sun goes down. Everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

“I wish I could be more helpful….”

“The very fact you are here, with me, is helpful, Libbie. Take a good, long swig of this before we look at your ankle. Nope, no arguing. It is for medicinal purposes, my dear. You will thank me shortly.”

Libbie made a face as the liquor burned its way down her throat and into her belly. By the third swig, a tingling warmth began to spread through her body. 

“Ah yes. Let’s take one more big swig for good measure, Lib.”

He helped her tip the bottle until she pushed it away, gagging and sucking in air. He took a smaller swig and replaced the lid. Libbie’s face was flushed, her eyes watering. She was a mess, and she knew it. She squinted at Perry, then surprised them both with a massive burp. The couple burst into laughter, desperately glad for some comic relief. Perry leaned in towards her, a glint in his eye.

“I have to take off your shoes and socks now, madam.”

“Erm…okay…I think.”

“And possibly your pants.”

Libbie’s eyes widened in faux horror, playing along. Perry was so much fun to be around. She loved his sense of humor.

“Oh no, sir…surely not…my pants!”

“Muhahahaha! We shall see, my little chickadee, we shall see.”

Perry inspected, then wrapped her bruised, swollen ankle and placed her damp shoes and socks near the fire to dry. They feasted on peanut butter and crackers, grateful they had a meal to enjoy. Around sunset, Perry located a dry sleeping bag in their supplies, and insisted they both allow their damp clothes to dry before putting them back on.

The two survivors slid into the protective warmth of the sleeping bag and watched the fiery orange, pink and purple clouds of sunset morph into an expansive array of sparkling diamonds set in the depths of the midnight blue sky.

“Perry?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Do you remember that legend about these woods we all used to listen to around the campfire?”

“Maybe….”

“Tell me. Tell me the story right here in the safety of our firelight.”

“Lib, don’t you think we have had enough excitement for one day?”

“Please?”

“Girl….”

“Puh…leeze?”

Perry sighed and squeezed her soft shoulder gently with his hand.

“Okay, but don’t get scared.”

“Mmmm…kay.”

Perry clumsily tossed a couple more pieces of firewood close to their sleeping bag onto the campfire. A spray of fiery red sparks rocketed towards the starry sky. A cool breeze ruffled Perry’s hair as he wiggled back down in the sleeping bag, pulling Libbie into his protective embrace. He placed a loving kiss on Libbie’s forehead before he began telling the legend.

“Once upon a time….”

Libbie giggled and slid an arm across his chest as she snuggled in for the story.

“A group of teens decided to hike along the edge of a small creek that transversed the infamous Screaming Haint Woods to the trailhead at Lost Lake. They followed a well used deer trail when the banks of the creek became steep and impassable. They made good progress, and eventually stopped to make camp as the sun dropped close to the horizon.

“It was a moonless night, with flashes of lightning off to the northwest. The campfire was their main source of light. Thunder rumbled ominously as the group quickly ate their evening meal. They hurried to construct pine branch shelters to protect them from the rain of the impending storm. The teens huddled under the protection of their shelters as the sky turned an ominous orange color before the light faded away. The campfire hissed, billowing smoke as it sputtered and died from the rain. Lightning lit the camp sporadically. 

“Around midnight, the ground shook as thunder boomed overhead. Lightning hit somewhere close by, illuminating the misshapened figure of a large creature by the edge of the camp. Everyone’s eyes were riveted on the creature, who seemed to be lit from within by an unusual glow. Arms raised, it released an eerie sound that the teens later described as a grating, electronic, inhuman scream. The Thing circled the campsite, the electrified screaming intensifying as the forest floor sizzled underneath it. Patterns of electrical charges crawled across the ground as the creature travailed. It seemed to be searching for something, without success. 

“‘Where are you?!’ the Thing finally hissed. ‘Come to me, and we will ride the night skies, forever free!’

“The creature, electrical charges undulating through its terrifying form, stood before one of the pine bough shelters and sniffed. The Thing moved before each shelter, still sniffing. It seemed uninterested until it stood before the last shelter. The pine boughs caught on fire as the creature swiped the shelter’s roof into the woods. It leaned down, intense eyes of fire burning from what seemed to be a head, maybe. The Thing screamed at the exposed boys. It grabbed Kagan Creech, whose father worked at a government facility on the far side of Lost Lake, tossing him in the air. Kagan screamed as he caught on fire, then convulsed as the Thing caught him. The creature watched as the boy’s body instantly incinerated and fell on the dirt as a pile of glowing ashes.

“The Thing looked at the rest of the campers. It screamed, the rage in the sound evident as it retrieved the ashes.

“‘One to go, maybe more you know,’ The Thing whispered loudly. ‘Until this wrong is right, I fight!’

“Thunder clapped again, rumbling through the forest. In a blinding flash, the Thing was gone, leaving an acrid smell hovering in the smoke-filled air. Kagan was gone too. No trace of him was ever found.

“So beware, all of you who dare to enter the Screaming Haint Woods. Beware the storms. The same could await you, unless the wrong has been righted. And the next one could be…YOU!!!”

A small snore wandered past Perry’s ear. He rolled his eyes in frustration. He thought he had done an exceptionally fine job recalling the legend of Screaming Haint Woods. Perry sighed and closed his eyes, quickly succumbing to the cocoon of warmth in the sleeping bag.

It was three in the morning. Thunder rolled in the distance. Lightning sizzled and crawled across the approaching thunderheads. The wind began to pick up, a strange, acrid scent permeating the air. Libbie turned over, surprised to find Perry gone. She got up and slipped into her warm, dry clothes.

“Perry?”

No answer. 

“Perry!”

No answer.

“Perry! This isn’t funny! Where are you?”

“Libbie. Get the sleeping bag and come over here…get under the canoe. Now!”

“What is going on? Why is the fire out?”

Libbie slid under the canoe, dragging the sleeping bag while favoring her ankle. Perry followed her, wedging her in.

“Ugh…all our stuff is in here too. What is going on? Why have you essentially packed up our campsite? This whole place smells like our natural bug repellent…lemon grass, citronella, peppermint and stuff. I don’t understand….”

Thunder rumbled loudly overhead, ending Libbie’s tirade. Perry shushed her. There was no need. Something was moving around in their former campsite. Lightning flashed. A strange crackling sound came from the camp. Perry snugged Libbie more closely, half afraid he had called up…the Thing. Light flashed across the canoe. Something screamed in the night as the rain started. Whatever it was, sounded angry. More crackling sounds followed the screaming, along with flashes of light.

A jolt of shock shot through Perry’s body as he was sure he heard his name being called, barely audible over the incessant crackling noise and the pounding of the rain on the top of the overturned canoe. He lowered his head in disbelief. He was toast. Maybe Libbie was too. Unless the creature was unaware of her presence. He would protect her and offer himself to the Thing in the hope it would lose interest in her. He had stupidly called it up. She was innocent. He grabbed her, pulling her ear to his trembling lips. He whispered, trying to sound confident. 

“Libbie. I’m going out there. No matter what you see, hear, and smell, do NOT move from here until daylight. Stay still until daylight. No matter what! Promise me, Libbie. Promise me!”

“Okay, okay. I promise. But you come back. Don’t you leave me out here by myself, Perry!”

“There is a gun in the purple waterproof zip bag. Use it if needed. No matter what happens…Libbie…I think I love you.”

“Oh, Perry. Me too…I think I have loved you for a while. You better come back!”

Perry kissed her soft lips with all the tenderness in his heart. Then he wiggled away and was gone. Gone…into the storm, along with the weird sounds and screaming. Tears slid silently down her dirt-smudged face as she realized there was a chance he might not return. She had never really believed the legend of Screaming Haint Woods. Until now.

The shouting stopped. It was hard to hear anything over the drumming rain on the canoe. The light flashes started again. And now there was an ominous roaring sound overhead. Libbie debated making a run for it, then remembered her bum ankle. She pulled the sleeping bag over her head, her heart pounding. She felt the familiar tightening of her throat. Libbie began her breathing exercises, finding it somewhat comforting.

The canoe groaned and skittered downhill as something removed it. She screamed hysterically as light flashed all over her, blinding her. A firm hand grasped her. It took her a moment to recognize Perry’s voice.

“Libbie. Libbie! It’s me…Perry. Look at me. Here. Look at me!”

Libbie reluctantly looked up, terrified it was a trick of the Thing. She was eighty percent sure she was going to see a pair of flaming eyes ready to incinerate her on the spot.

“Here. Get that light out of her eyes, man. Lib, it is Perry. I am okay. You are safe and you will be okay too.”

“What? I don’t understand. Where is the Thing?”

She heard several men guffaw. She sat up, slightly blind and getting angrier by the moment.

“What’s so funny? Who is here?”

“Libbie. They are part of a rescue team that was called in to find us after the landslide was discovered. We are one of three groups stranded out here.”

The couple soon found themselves safely ensconced in the overhead chopper, along with their rescuers. The team was murmuring quietly among themselves, but the couple could hear them.

“Glad we found those two after the crazy story the first group told us. The creature, the lightning, that poor guy missing from their group….”

“Yeah. You know the legend of Screaming Haint Woods, don’t you?”

The rescuers looked at each other. Everything fit. The legend was well known to the rescuers.

The solemn rescue leader looked at each teammate individually before speaking. 

“We all know what is going on here. The wrong has not yet been made right. It continues to fight. How many more people will the Thing incinerate before this ends?

Perry and Libbie locked gazes. It was real. The legend was real! And they were not the only ones who knew it. The legend of Screaming Haint Woods was fairly old. How long had this been going on? What would make things right again? The couple smiled at each other, knowing they had a future together. And a new quest with a riddle to solve. 

***

The Thing watched the overhead chopper fly away. The forest was quiet and undisturbed once again. It fell to the ground, disintegrating as the electrical charges holding its form together were recalled to a clandestine source in the Screaming Haint Woods.

“Nicely done, Dr. Pellstein.”

“Yes, Comrade. This has been a great place for our covert operations. The Americans will never know what hit them when the Thing is completely under our control and operational…and we can easily duplicate it for use in other areas.”

“Soon, Doctor, very soon.”

Dr. Pellstein pulled a Cuban cigar from his jacket. He clipped the end and lit it. Blue smoke shot into the room from his thin lips, forming a toxic cloud.

“Yes indeed, Comrade. Very soon.”

Copyright © 2022 Lisa Criss Griffin
All rights reserved 

Please visit Lisa on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorlisacrissgriffin

Kenneth Lawson: The Treasure Box

Welcome to Write the Story! Each month Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms.  Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support! 

Images are free-use images and do not require attribution. Image by StockSnap from Pixabay.

The Treasure Box

Kenneth Lawson

Benny sat on his bed, head in hands, as a thought kept floating around in his head like a line from a song playing on auto-repeat. What if Carrie hadn’t died?

But she had, and he knew why and how. But what if she hadn’t? The what-if’s nagged at him until he decided he had to find out one way or the other.

Benny knew the truth. She died because she stood up for what was right. They killed her over the truth.

He slammed his hands into the mattress so violently he could feel the sharp springs. His anger grew as he replayed her death scene in his mind. 

He’d been powerless to stop them from killing her in the street, in broad daylight. There was nothing he could do. No one blinked at what happened. They were all brainwashed with the party line, and anyone who didn’t toe the official line was a target. She had not toed the line privately or publicly, and her efforts were getting results—results they didn’t like. She became not just a minor annoyance but a serious problem. Serious problems tended to disappear by design, and she was “disappeared,” but not before they made an example out of her.

Benny knew who had given the order to have her eliminated publicly, who ordered the State Guards to kill her and display her body as a trophy. As much as he wanted to kill the man responsible, that action would only cause more deaths, including his, so another solution had to be found.

Carrie’s last words to him before hell broke loose and they murdered her echoed in his mind. She said she would always remember her past, safely tucked inside her treasure box, the old wooden box of trinkets and keepsakes from a past life to which neither of them wished to return.

Benny had seen most of the bits and bobs in the box before—birthday cards, various pieces of jewelry, and several love letters he had written to her in another place and time. He couldn’t bear to look at them, but he knew he had to look through the items. He had to know what Carrie meant by her past was safe.

Carefully, he took everything from the box, laying the mementos of her life onto the bed one item at a time. He stared at the items. Nothing looked out of place or suspicious. Absently, he picked up the box and noticed something was off. The interior wasn’t as deep as it should be from the outside depth.

It looked as he remembered, scratched, its finish worn. He had teased her because she carried the box wherever she went. She would tuck it in an oversized purse or a backpack when they went camping. It was never far from her side, even in the house. Now it was all he had left of her, but something was wrong.

Suspecting a false compartment, Benny ran his fingertip along the sides of the bottom surface until he felt a barely perceptible difference in the edge. He pressed down, felt the surface spring pop loose, and gently pried open the false bottom. 

Inside was a single slip of paper—a note in Carrie’s small, neat handwriting dated years before.

Benny,

If you’re reading this, I am dead, likely murdered. I always knew it was possible but hoped you would never have to suffer through my death. 

You never knew the truth or scope of my work—now you must. The phone number I have included will put you in touch with someone who will explain everything. But you must not be overheard, so ensure you are alone.

Think carefully. If you call this number, your life will change, and you will be in grave danger. I understand if you choose to walk away. If you decide not to make the call, burn this letter and never think of it again.

Love always, Carrie.

Benny replaced the items, except for the note, back into the box exactly as he found them. For hours he sat on the edge of the bed, his mind reeling. 

Near midnight, under cover of darkness, Benny stood on a deserted street and made the call.

Please visit Kenneth on his website: http://kennethlawson.weebly.com

Lynn Miclea: Gold Butterfly

Welcome to Write the Story! Each month Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms.  Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support! 

Images are free-use images and do not require attribution. Image by StockSnap from Pixabay.

Gold Butterfly

Lynn Miclea

Katy lay on her side in the bed, breathing deeply, pretending to be asleep. Desperation clawed at her. She needed to get out. Tonight was the night.

She heard Joel’s footsteps approach, and she sensed him at the side of the bed checking on her. She kept her breathing deep and regular.

Apparently satisfied, Joel headed to the bathroom.

Katy didn’t move. It could be a test. If he thought she was pretending, he would make sure it was impossible to leave. She would never get out. If he got angry, he might not even let her live.

She heard the shower being turned on. Still, she didn’t move.

Finally, she heard the shower door close. She opened one eye. Nothing.

Pushing herself up slowly, she glanced around. The bathroom door was closed.

Now was probably the best chance she would ever have.

Trembling, her heart pounding in her chest, she got up, dressed as quickly as she could, and ran downstairs. She would only have a few minutes. This was the first time she had seen Joel leave the door key on the kitchen counter. He was usually not that careless, always keeping the key carefully hidden. Until tonight. And if she were caught, he would never be that careless again.

Taking the key, she carefully unlocked the cabin door, stepped out into the cold night air, and then closed the door quietly behind her. She held her breath and listened. She could still hear the shower in the bathroom upstairs.

Terrified and unsure, she froze for a few seconds, and then she ran.

Surrounded by trees, deep in the woods, she did not know which way to go. Having been brought there blindfolded a week earlier, she had no idea where she was. Joel had driven her to this area and then walked her along a dirt path to the cabin before removing the blindfold. She did not know where his car was or which way was the way out. She just knew she had to keep moving, and hopefully she would find a road or someone who could help.

Although it was hard to see in the dark, she rushed forward. A small amount of light from the half-moon filtered through the canopy of leaves above, but not much reached the ground. A few times, she tripped on roots or rocks in the dirt, but she caught herself and continued. She desperately needed to get far enough away that he wouldn’t find her. She hoped that was possible.

She knew without a doubt Joel would come looking for her once he found her gone. And if he found her, he would be enraged and would very likely kill her. Memories of his abuse over the past few days nudged at her mind, but she quickly pushed them aside. She had to stay focused.

After running and stumbling a few times, she stopped to catch her breath for a few minutes. Her fingers absently checked her pocket. Was it still there? Her fingers closed around a small gold butterfly, given to her by her Aunt May before she died. “Always believe in yourself,” her aunt had told her. “You are stronger than you think and you know what’s right for you.” Her aunt had placed the gold butterfly in her hand and closed her fingers around it. “I believe in you,” she had said. “You need to believe in you, too.”

Katy blinked back tears at the memory. She hoped the gold butterfly would give her strength and help keep her safe.

She resumed walking, being more careful now. A short time later, she heard a shout. Joel’s voice. “Katy? Where are you?” She gasped and then tried to calm down. She stayed still and silent. “I’m gonna find you, Katy. You won’t get away. You know that, right?”

She knew she had to move discreetly and quietly. She took a few steps and a twig under her foot snapped. She froze and listened. It did not seem like he heard it.

“Katy? Come on, you won’t survive out here at night. You’re gonna regret this. Where are you?”

His voice sounded farther away. Or maybe it was just her fear and she wasn’t hearing well. She was not sure. She waited a few minutes. After not hearing anything more, she continued walking, going slower and being more cautious.

After what seemed like a couple hours, she shivered, the cold air settling deeper into her. She rubbed her arms, trying to get warmer. Would she survive a night out in the cold? Where would she find shelter? There was no safety in the woods, and the night was definitely getting colder.

She kept moving. She wished someone could help her. But no one knew she was gone or where she was, so no one would even be looking for her.

She knew she had briefly mentioned to her friend Jennifer that she was seeing Joel this weekend and that she was not happy with how he was treating her and was considering breaking up with him. But she did not speak to her friend every day, so Jennifer might not even realize she was missing. And even if she did, she wouldn’t know where she had been taken. Katy didn’t even know where she was herself. She clearly was on her own.

Needing to warm up, she rubbed her arms again. She had no idea Joel was capable of anything like this. And she had no idea what to do. A sense of hopelessness settled in her chest and she wanted to cry.

Finally, shivering with the cold and exhaustion, she sat down at the base of a tree. Not even sure she would survive the night, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she stifled a sob. Had it been a mistake to leave? Would she have been safer to stay in the warm cabin in a soft bed?

Warmer, yes. Safer, no. Her life had ended when Joel had kidnapped her and brought her there by force. And then the abuse she had endured at his hands. She rubbed her cheek where he had slapped her earlier that afternoon. No, she had to get away, no matter what, even if she died trying.

Sounds of the woods filled the air. Strange sounds that spooked her. Scampering of tiny paws, buzzing of insects, rustling of leaves … she had no idea what was out there. She hoped she would make it through the night. But even if she did, then what? How would she get out?

She fingered the small gold butterfly in her pocket. Yes, she needed to believe in herself. She needed to believe that she would be okay.

After another hour, fatigue overtook her, and she lightly dozed on and off throughout the night. As the weak light of a dawning sunrise began to light up the area, she startled herself awake. She slowly stretched and then stood up, her body cold, stiff, and achy.

Looking around, she tried to get her bearings. The ground was level where she was, but it looked like it sloped downward a few yards farther away. As she carefully listened, she heard the sound of rushing water. A stream? A river? She wasn’t sure. But the sound gave her something to head toward.

After Katy walked a short distance, a swiftly flowing river became visible. She realized her mouth was exceedingly dry, and at least she could get some water to drink.

Stepping carefully, she eased her way down to the river. Being more exposed there, she knew she would need to be fast and then get back to the safety of the woods. After glancing around to make sure she was alone, she carefully bent forward, cupped some water in her hands, and sipped it. It was icy cold, but it refreshed her and gave her energy. She drank more and then gently washed her face with the frigid water.

Her nerves getting to her, she quickly moved back to where the trees gave her cover and more security, and she sat down against a tree to think. Should she follow the river? And if so, in which direction? Where was the way out?

The sound of rustling in the leaves behind her startled her, and she tensed. Was that Joel? Had he found her? Her heart pounded and terror flooded her body as she pulled her knees up, trying to make herself smaller and less of a target.

A metallic jingling sound reached her. What was that? She gasped and then remained silent and unmoving. A dog suddenly came into view — a beautiful, silky, golden retriever stood in front of her, wagging its tail. It barked once and then sat down in front of her. As she stared at the dog, wondering where it came from, two men appeared behind the dog. “Good dog, Bailey,” one of the men called out.

The other man looked at Katy. “Are you Katy?”

She nodded. “Yes.” Her voice sounded hoarse.

“Good. We’ve been looking for you. I’m Kent, and this is Brad. We’ve had a search party scouring the area for the past two days.” He gestured at her. “Are you okay? Are you injured?”

“I’m okay. Just cold, exhausted, and hungry.” She slowly stood up, realizing she also was weak. “How did you know to look for me? Or where to find me?”

“Your friend Jennifer reported you missing, and she gave us enough information that we researched your boyfriend, discovered a cabin belonging to his family, and suspected you might be in this area. We are a volunteer search team working with the sheriff’s office. Bailey here,” he added, gesturing at the dog, “is well trained and effective at finding missing people.”

Katy nodded. “But my boyfriend Joel … he …”

“The deputy sheriffs are up at the cabin right now looking for him.”

“Joel might be out trying to find me.” She glanced around at the woods. “I snuck out of the cabin last night.” She shuddered as she thought about it.

Kent glanced around and then took a few steps closer. “Let’s get you out of here. Can you walk okay?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good. Follow me. Stay close.”

Katy followed Kent, while Brad and Bailey brought up the rear, Brad keeping watch behind her. She began to feel safer and couldn’t wait to get out of the woods. Maybe she would be safe after all.

“There you are!” Joel’s booming voice cut through the air. “She’s coming with me,” he yelled, coming toward them, a large pipe in his hands, which he jabbed in the air threateningly.

Kent raised his arms in a calming gesture. “Hey, put the pipe down, we just want to talk.”

“No talk. She’s my girl, and she’s coming back with me.”

Katy whimpered, shook her head, and took a few steps back.

“Come on,” Kent continued. “Just put it down.”

“No!” Joel switched the pipe to his left hand and hastily raised a weapon with his right hand. He waved it back and forth toward the group.

Bailey growled.

“Down, Bailey,” Brad said to the dog.

Kent stepped farther away from the group. “Hey, no need for weapons. We just want to talk.”

Joel seemed determined. “Katy, come here,” he demanded.

Katy shook her head. “No, Joel. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Joel stepped forward aggressively, aiming the gun at Katy.

Bailey gave one loud bark.

Joel turned his attention to the dog, his weapon beginning to move toward the dog.

Kent, now a few steps closer to Joel, tossed a rock at Joel. Joel lurched and stepped back. His hand came up, the gun fired, and Katy shrieked.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Kent dove at Joel, tackling him to the ground. They wrestled for a couple of minutes, and then Kent pinned him to the ground. He twisted Joel’s hand, causing Joel to grunt and loosen his grip on the gun. Kent grabbed Joel’s gun and tossed it out of reach.

Brad got out his radio and called the deputy sheriffs. “We got them — we have both Joel and Katy. But we need some help here. Katy is safe and Joel is restrained. He was armed.” He gave coordinates and then clicked off. He turned to his partner. “They’re on the way.” He then looked around. “Anyone hurt? Where did that bullet go?”

Terror and shock ran through Katy. Shaking, she glanced around. Then she noticed a red streak on her left arm and she gasped, her eyes widening as she stared at it. “I … I …”

Brad peered at her arm. “Yep, the bullet grazed your arm. It’s not deep, but it should get cleaned and looked at.”

Katy nodded numbly as she looked at her arm and then stared at Joel pinned underneath Kent. He had shot her! How could she have ever dated him at all? Horror gripped her as she realized how close that was and how much worse it easily could have been.

She turned to Brad. “He would have killed me.”

Brad nodded. “That is very likely. I’m really glad you’re okay.” He gestured at his partner. “Kent here is the best partner. He’s ex-military and knows what he’s doing. I’m very grateful he’s on our side and one of the good guys. This definitely could have been a lot worse.” He looked up at the sound of voices and movement. “Good. Here are the deputy sheriffs.”

The taller of the two deputy sheriffs immediately went to Kent and Joel. The deputy sheriff took out handcuffs and slapped them on Joel’s wrists. “Do you have any other weapons on you?” he asked Joel.

“None of your business,” Joel responded.

The deputy sheriff went through Joel’s pockets, carefully removing a switchblade knife. He dropped it into a plastic bag his shorter partner was holding out toward him. He then brought Joel to a standing position. “What were you trying to do here?”

Joel remained quiet.

The shorter officer and the rescue crew spoke quietly among themselves for a few minutes, and Katy glanced at them and then stared at her injured arm, unable to say a word.

The taller officer held onto Joel while the shorter one approached Katy. “We will need to get a statement from you and ask you a few questions. Can you come down to the station?”

“Yes, sure.” She had many questions to ask them, but couldn’t yet form the words.

“Good. Then we’ll get that arm looked at and taken care of.” He turned to his partner. “Let’s pick up that gun over there, look for the bullet, and then we need to close off this entire area. Let’s get it all roped off — this is now a crime scene.” He radioed dispatch, and then the two deputy sheriffs walked Joel through the woods toward their vehicle as the taller one read Joel his rights.

“Come on,” Kent said to Katy. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Feeling shaky and woozy, Katy walked with Kent and Brad through the woods toward their vehicle. Thoughts swirled in her head, overwhelming her. What had happened? She couldn’t quite grasp it. Looking at the blood on her arm, she felt dizzy and her legs got wobbly and slowly gave out. A nauseating weakness overtook her as everything turned black.

A short time later, she woke up, groggy and confused. Where was she? Suddenly she remembered and her eyes flew open. “Joel!”

Brad was wrapping a bandage around her arm. “Hey, you’re awake. Good. Don’t worry, you’re safe.” Brad watched her as she sat up in the back seat of their vehicle. “You feeling okay?”

Katy nodded. “Yes, just a bit weak. I’m sorry.”

He handed her a bottle of water. “Nothing to apologize for. I cleaned the wound and you’re all bandaged up. But I’d like to get you to a hospital to be checked over and make sure everything is good.”

“Okay.” She sipped the water and then looked up at Brad. “And Joel?”

“He’s in custody at the sheriff’s office, with multiple charges pending.”

Katy let out a long, slow breath. “Thank you.” She let Brad secure the seatbelt around her. Bailey was buckled into the seat next to her, and he wagged his tail when she looked at him.

Brad then climbed into the front passenger seat and Kent started the vehicle and pulled out of the parking area.

As the vehicle moved forward, Katy swallowed hard. She was finally free of him. Memories of the past week flooded her, increasing her anxiety, as her arm throbbed. She pushed those thoughts aside and tried to relax.

She vowed to trust her instincts about people from now on. She was grateful Jennifer had called authorities. Her friend had warned her about Joel, but she didn’t listen. She needed to listen to her friend more and trust her as well as herself. And it would be a while before she dated anyone again.

She slowly played with the small gold butterfly in her pocket. “Thank you, Aunt May,” she whispered. “Yes, I will believe in myself.”

She leaned her head back against the headrest, closed her eyes, and sighed. It would take a while to recover, but she was finally safe. And free.

—————————————–

Copyright © 2022 Lynn Miclea. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit Lynn’s blog and follow her at – https://lynnpuff.wordpress.com/

Please also visit Lynn’s website for more information on her books – https://www.lynnmiclea.com/

And please visit her Amazon author page at – https://www.amazon.com/Lynn-Miclea/e/B00SIA8AW4

Anita Wu: Confession

Welcome to Write the Story! Each month Writers Unite! will offer a writing prompt for writers to create a story from and share with everyone. WU! wants to help our members and followers to generate more traffic to their platforms.  Please check out the authors’ blogs, websites, and Facebook pages and show them support. We would love to hear your thoughts about the stories and appreciate your support! 

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Confession

Anita Wu

“Can I tell you something?” She looked at the drink she held in her hand, refusing to bring her gaze to me.

I gently closed my book and placed it on the picnic blanket, gesturing for her to sit next to me so that we could face the scenic river before us. She placed her cup beside my book and settled next to me, but I was aware of the space she left between us. She still refused to look at me, so I laid my hand on my knee, palm facing upwards as though to tell her that I was listening and to give her the choice to reach out.

“What’s up, Sara?” I prompted her. I watched as she glanced around, opening and closing her mouth as though she did not know how to speak. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m not human,” she whispered, still looking away. As though in affirmation, a bird cawed above us.

But her existence told me otherwise. Her eyes sparkled when she glimpsed the beauty of a whale during our trip out to sea, and her laugh echoed through the caves we wandered in darkness. Her body danced as we made our way through various cities and met countless personalities who fell in love with her just as I had. Even now, I saw the nervousness in her lowered head, her hair at mercy of the wind, and she sat beside me in form.

“To be human is to live,” I told my fiancée, our wedding a mere month away. She looked me in the eyes then, and I saw the glimmer of tears in her golden irises.

Sara claimed she was a Siren, banished from the ocean and forced to flee to land. Her condition for return was to bring someone to endure her punishment on her behalf.

“Were you going to sacrifice me, then?” I asked, knowing I would easily agree to be blindfolded by her for a surprise and just as easily be caught and shipped off into the ocean, never to appear before my family again.

“No, no!” she shouted, repeated, grabbing my hand, then said, “That has passed. I already…”

She trailed off and lowered her head once more. “Already what, Sara?”

She spun me a tale. Years ago, she had made friends, spent months in their company, and trusted them enough to tell them the truth; for Sirens, to them and to me, did not exist. Sirens, werewolves, and vampires were things of myth, stories told through the generations for entertainment. Scientifically, they did not exist.

“But we would never reveal ourselves. Humans would hunt and trap us. We would be used for experiments or trophies. Tell me: would you want to be stabbed with toxins for the curiosity of others who have no care for the value of your life and only for the fact that you remained breathing and scientifically ‘alive’?”

Her friends’ response to her secret was to splash a glass of water in her face, to test the myth that she would turn to a fish once she came in contact with water. They were at a restaurant, and everyone in their area paused their dinners to stare at her. They laughed at her, alcohol making them slur their words and stumble in their steps.

“I don’t know why I did it. But I felt wronged—for my entire people. So I took them here.” She gestured at the raging river before us, the cliff rising to heights in the distance, the trees swaying in the wind, and the seldom travelled road behind us. “I dove into the water here, and I showed them my tail. I proved to them that I existed.”

They screamed at her — a freak or monster — and they threw stones at her before running away. One of her friends came back, and she could never forget him because he held a glimmer in his eyes, a grin on his lips, and a rifle in his hands.

“That’s the scar on my arm.” She brought her hand to grip her arm, covering the scar that I had always asked her about but that she would never feel comfortable sharing.

“Why now?” I asked, unsure how to respond at being flooded with this—information that should not make sense yet explained so many things of the past. Sara loved the ocean and all bodies of water, but she refused to go into them. She claimed that she didn’t know how to swim and that she had a traumatic experience as a child of being in the water, forcing her to avoid even wading in and enjoying the cool waters. “Why did you not just leave me in the dark forever?”

Sara looked away again.

“My people pitied me after that incident. They lifted my punishment and allowed me back home.”

“I’ve heard enough stories to know that a but is coming.” I gave her a sad smile and squeezed her hand.

“I must wed a Siren when the time comes.”

“And I am certainly not a Siren.”

She smiled, then frowned.

“So tell me, darling, am I not mad because your voice can soothe my emotions? Or am I just too heartbroken to feel anything right now?”

She kissed me then. “Do you want to be a Siren?”

Please visit Anita on her website: https://soreispeaks.wordpress.com/

SUCCESS PHILOSOPHIES WITH DR. CHUBACK: EPISODE 34

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In our quest to assist writers in becoming the best they can be and remain motivated, we would like to introduce you to John Chuback, M.D. A cardiovascular surgeon, Dr. Chuback found his goals waylaid by his lack of motivation.

In a series of interviews with Paul W. Reeves, host on Impact Radio USA, Dr. Chuback continues his discussion of the tools leading to success with his book “Make Your Own Damn Cheese: Understanding, Navigating, and Mastering the 3 Mazes of Success.”

Please click on the link below to hear Episode #34 of SUCCESS PHILOSOPHIES WITH DR. CHUBACK, the first episode in the second series, and start enhancing your journey toward success today.

DR. JOHN CHUBACK, a cardiovascular surgeon from New Jersey, is the author of, “Make Your Own Damn Cheese: Understanding, Navigating, and Mastering the 3 Mazes of Success,” “The Straight A Handbook – The 50 Most Powerful Secrets For Ultimate Success In And Out Of The Classroom” and other books.

DR. CHUBACK joins HOST PAUL W. REEVES weekly to discuss his books, “The Straight A Handbook – The 50 Most Powerful Secrets For Ultimate Success In And Out Of The Classroom” and “Make Your Own Damn Cheese“, each of which explores the human mind and becoming all that you can be.

Throughout this portion of the series, Dr. Chuback will discuss “Make Your Own Damn Cheese“, and the research behind his success philosophies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Audiobooks on Audible

The Straight a Handbook: The 50 Most Powerful Secrets for Ultimate Success in and Out of the Classroom Audible Logo Audible Audiobook – Unabridged

Written by John Chuback, M. D.
Narrated by Paul W. Reeves, Ed. D.

Click for Audible version on Amazon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previous Episodes of “Success Philosophies With Dr. Chuback”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr. John Chuback

Picture

Dr. John Chuback was born and raised in Bergen County and graduated from the Dwight Englewood School. He earned his medical degree from New Jersey Medical School at UMDNJ, in Newark. Dr. Chuback then completed a five-year General Surgical Residency at Monmouth Medical Center (MMC). Dr. Chuback is the author of Make Your Own Damn CheeseKaboing, and The Straight A Handbook.

All books are available on Amazon. com. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Impact Radio USA

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Welcome to ​IMPACT RADIO USA, where we strive to provide the best in news, talk, sports, and music 24 hours a day, 52 weeks per year. Our goal is to keep you as the most informed and entertained Internet Radio audience.

As we are continuing to add content on a daily basis, please feel free to click on the “LISTEN NOW” button at the top of the page to hear us 24 hours a day. While you are here, please check out all of our links to our shows, our podcast page, our blog, and learn how YOU can host your own show with us.  Thank you for listening to IMPACT RADIO USA!!!

Impact Radio USA ListenNow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paul W. Reeves 

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Paul W. Reeves, Ed. D. is an author, radio talk show host, educator, composer/arranger, and professional musician.

Listen to “Dr. Paul’s Family Talk” on Impact Radio USA and visit Paul’s websitehttps://paulwreeves.com for more information on his books and CDs.

https://www.impactradiousa.com/

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D. A. Ratliff: Why My Muse Loves Jazz

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Why My Muse Loves Jazz

D. A. Ratliff

If you have read my writing, you know I generally set my stories and novels in the southern region of the United States. That is understandable because I grew up in South Carolina and live in Florida. A piece of writing advice says to ‘write what you know,” and I know the South. I can’t entirely agree with that particular advice because we can write about anything with a bit of solid research. Thank you, Google. But our life experiences certainly influence what we put on paper.

Speaking to a friend, we discussed how life impacts writing, and I stated that I do not consciously put my life experiences into my work. I no doubt subconsciously do. My attitudes toward good and evil and how characters (people) should behave can’t help but influence my writing as it does anyone. I generally do not pattern any character after someone I know, although I have done so occasionally.

In thinking back on that conversation, I wondered what my influences were. What creates the mood of my writing? I realized that there are two influences. One is my childhood memories of growing up in the South, and the other is music.

While I was fortunate to enjoy a somewhat idyllic childhood, I am not naïve enough to ignore the issues that faced my “hundred-acre woods” (thank you, Winnie, the Pooh) or the rest of the country and the world. Equality is never easy to obtain and inequality difficult to witness, and that alone will influence us, consciously or not.

My parents provided a haven for me and a feeling of security, and I realize how fortunate I am for that environment. They never hid the realities of the world from me, but the gentility that existed was also a part of my life. When writing, I attempt to show the area’s complexity because the truth is always best.

My environment, however, was not the only influence on me. I believe that growing up in the South served as the platform for what is truly my muse. Music.

I grew up listening to classical music more than any other music genre. My father often had classical music on in the car or at home. Still, my parents were huge fans of music in general, so the sounds of my early childhood included Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Louis Armstrong, and Frank Sinatra.

I was a typical kid, I loved Elvis and the Beatles, but I was also the preteen who loved Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass and asked for their albums for Christmas. Music was and remains an integral part of my life, and I realize a considerable influence on my writing.

For music lovers, every type of music becomes part of the threads woven to create our personalities. My memories of the spirituals I listened to as a child or the blues music that developed from various influences after the Civil War to jazz that grew from the blues and ragtime in New Orleans have influenced me greatly.

Images are free-use images and do not require attribution. Image by WikiImages from Pixabay,

Jazz. I am not sure how one can define jazz. In an opinion article written by Josiah Boornazian, the author states:

“Jazz encourages, celebrates, and rewards newness, originality, personality, and meaningful expressiveness in music. Jazz never stopped evolving.”

This observation about jazz mimics writing. Doesn’t writing do the same, encourage, celebrate, and provide the same rewards?

When I was a child, my parents had a family friend, Mr. Price, whose mother was from Louisiana and who I wrote about in a previous article. His stories of his mother’s life in Louisiana and the Cajun meals he prepared for us on some Sundays greatly influenced me. I loved the stories and the food, and as I grew up, my affection for the area never waned but became a love for New Orleans and jazz.

When I started my first mystery novel, I never hesitated to set the story in New Orleans. I visited there a few times and felt a kinship with the French Quarter, more so than with my hometown in South Carolina.

As I wrote, I felt the ambiance of the French Quarter. The colorful residents, the awed tourists, the neon, and the art and Voodou shops all mingled with the smells of spicy food, beer, incense, and, well… some other aromas, but all part of the fabric of the Quarter.

However, one component of the ambiance was the sound of jazz. Walk along the narrow streets and listen as the music waxes and wanes from one club to the next—some joyous, some melancholy, and all reaching into your soul. There is a rhythm to life, and nowhere is it more apparent than in the jazz-filled French Quarter.

When I write, those beautiful spirituals from my early days to today’s jazz are my muse. The music spurs my creativity. The connection to the life force, the vibe, if you will, from the places that create that music, hopefully, keeps me evolving as a writer.

Whatever your music tastes, play some tunes while you write. If I may suggest, play a little Bossa Nova for enchantment and romance, a little Buddy Rich for the zest of life, a little Miles Davis for the soul, and let your muse play.

Images are free-use images and do not require attribution. Image by D. A. Ratliff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please visit Deborah on her blog: https://daratliffauthor.wordpress.com/ and on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thecoastalquill

And look for her mystery novel, Crescent City Lies, coming soon!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Resources:

https://www.learnjazzstandards.com/blog/all-about-jazz/jazz-opinion-blog/whats-true-meaning-behind-jazz-music/

SUCCESS PHILOSOPHIES WITH DR. CHUBACK: EPISODE 33

In our quest to assist writers in becoming the best they can be and remain motivated, we would like to introduce you to John Chuback, M.D. A cardiovascular surgeon, Dr. Chuback found his goals waylaid by his lack of motivation.

In a series of interviews with Paul W. Reeves, host on Impact Radio USA, Dr. Chuback continues his discussion of the tools leading to success with his book “Make Your Own Damn Cheese: Understanding, Navigating, and Mastering the 3 Mazes of Success.”

Please click on the link below to hear Episode #33 of SUCCESS PHILOSOPHIES WITH DR. CHUBACK, the first episode in the second series, and start enhancing your journey toward success today.

DR. JOHN CHUBACK, a cardiovascular surgeon from New Jersey, is the author of, “Make Your Own Damn Cheese: Understanding, Navigating, and Mastering the 3 Mazes of Success,” “The Straight A Handbook – The 50 Most Powerful Secrets For Ultimate Success In And Out Of The Classroom” and other books.

DR. CHUBACK joins HOST PAUL W. REEVES weekly to discuss his books, “The Straight A Handbook – The 50 Most Powerful Secrets For Ultimate Success In And Out Of The Classroom” and “Make Your Own Damn Cheese“, each of which explores the human mind and becoming all that you can be.

Throughout this portion of the series, Dr. Chuback will discuss “Make Your Own Damn Cheese“, and the research behind his success philosophies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Audiobooks on Audible

The Straight a Handbook: The 50 Most Powerful Secrets for Ultimate Success in and Out of the Classroom Audible Logo Audible Audiobook – Unabridged

Written by John Chuback, M. D.
Narrated by Paul W. Reeves, Ed. D.

Click for Audible version on Amazon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previous Episodes of “Success Philosophies With Dr. Chuback”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr. John Chuback

Picture

Dr. John Chuback was born and raised in Bergen County and graduated from the Dwight Englewood School. He earned his medical degree from New Jersey Medical School at UMDNJ, in Newark. Dr. Chuback then completed a five-year General Surgical Residency at Monmouth Medical Center (MMC). Dr. Chuback is the author of Make Your Own Damn CheeseKaboing, and The Straight A Handbook.

All books are available on Amazon. com. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Impact Radio USA

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Welcome to ​IMPACT RADIO USA, where we strive to provide the best in news, talk, sports, and music 24 hours a day, 52 weeks per year. Our goal is to keep you as the most informed and entertained Internet Radio audience.

As we are continuing to add content on a daily basis, please feel free to click on the “LISTEN NOW” button at the top of the page to hear us 24 hours a day. While you are here, please check out all of our links to our shows, our podcast page, our blog, and learn how YOU can host your own show with us.  Thank you for listening to IMPACT RADIO USA!!!

Impact Radio USA ListenNow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paul W. Reeves 

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Paul W. Reeves, Ed. D. is an author, radio talk show host, educator, composer/arranger, and professional musician.

Listen to “Dr. Paul’s Family Talk” on Impact Radio USA and visit Paul’s websitehttps://paulwreeves.com for more information on his books and CDs.

https://www.impactradiousa.com/

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