Welcome Sue Coletta

Sue and I have been friends for ages. She recently became one of our partners over at Story Empire. She also has a new book to tell us about.

I’ve read many of Sue’s books and enjoyed every one I tried. Make her feel welcome today. Don’t be afraid to use those sharing buttons so she gets maximum exposure.

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Thank you for hosting me today, Craig! I appreciate your kind invite to help me share the news of my latest eco-thriller, Savage Mayhem. The first few chapters of Savage Mayhem take place in Alaska shortly after their previous mission to save orca from evil animal traffickers. Though each novel starts where the previous one left off, every book can stand alone. I write them that way, so readers don’t have to read eight novels to understand the ninth. Hope you enjoy it. ☺

Behind a typical Alaskan cabin, dark reds burned the horizon, embered like coals in a fire, hastened only by dark charcoal clouds. Stripes of salmon interspersed through deep purple bands that warned of turbulence.

Hints of amber kissed the treetops, limbs reaching for Father Sky to celebrate the birth of a new day, the chance to fix yesterday’s mistakes, the future full of possibilities. But darkness still cloaked the street. The in between time, as Shicheii called it, when the night yearned to reign longer.

From the passenger seat, I marveled at the riches of Mother Earth. “It’s so beautiful.” When I turned, I startled when Mr. Mayhem wasn’t beside me. “Running Bear?” My gaze zipped across the front seat. “This isn’t the Caddy.”

He smiled.

“Whose vehicle is this?”

He pointed at the unfamiliar house.

“Say something.”

Another smile.

“Why aren’t you talkin’ to me? Did something happen?” I twisted to peer into the backseat. “Where’s Shadow Wolf?”

His lips moved but no words escaped.

“What’s wrong with you?” A realization flooded my eyes with tears. “Is he dead?” I wailed. “Break it to me gently.” I hiked my knees to my chest and rocked, my heart shredded like meat through a grinder. “Oh, God, he’s dead. Isn’t he?”

Running Bear tapped my shoulder. He said something, but I was so hysterical I didn’t catch it.

“What?”

“He—”

Shaking my head, I fingered my right ear. Blood. What the hell?

He leaned closer, hot breath striking my left cheek. “He’s not dead.”

“Really? Then where is he?”

Again, he leaned forward. And I leaned back.

“What’s up with you?”

Closer and closer, he moved. “Ghost Dog—”

“What?”

The hand signals confused me. What’s wrong with him? I was this close to giving him a piece of my mind when my door flew open. Mr. Mayhem said something, but I didn’t catch it. “What?”

He smiled. I smiled back. Then all the blood registered, his chiseled torso and one cheek bathed in crimson.

“Are you alright?”

Nodding, he swayed an opened hand out the door.

“Say something.”

The hand rolled as if he wanted me to hurry, but I held firm.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on first.”

“Cat, please.” His lips formed the words, but no sound escaped.

Confusion rocked my senses. “Say that again.”

“Cat, please.”

“Why can’t I hear you?”

I swear he rolled his eyes, like this wasn’t news to him. When I parted my lips to question him again, he scooped me off the passenger seat, ushering me into the Caddy.

His lips mouthed, “I. Will. Explain. Later.” He jutted a stiff finger downward. “Now.” He motioned between us. “We.” Two fingers waved down the road. “Must. Leave.”

What’s with the hand signals?

Book description:

Amidst the wild and unforgiving landscapes of Yellowstone Park, join Mayhem, a fearless Apache warrior and champion of the Natural World, and his partner and protégé, Shawnee, as they race against the clock to protect an American Buffalo herd from the ruthless Killzme Corporation.

With a massive bounty on their heads and an army of killers on their trail, Mayhem and Shawnee must use all their cunning and survival skills to outsmart their enemies. They will risk it all to preserve the sacred lineage of the Innocent Ones.

There is no line Shawnee and Mayhem won’t cross.

Even murder.

As the danger intensifies and the clock winds down, will they be able to save the herd? Or will this be the mission that finally breaks them?

Preorder for 99c. Sale ends on release day, April 11, 2024.

 

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Nature Boy takes a drive

Work sent me across the state to do a project in Idaho Falls. I went in for the morning shift, then hit the road about noon. I wanted to get here before dark and potentially rush hour.

Not that IF is such a frightening place, but I’m not overly familiar with it. I elected to cut across the desert. There is a freeway option, but it’s quite a bit longer.

I saw antelope all around Fairview, which is pretty normal. It’s also big game migration time, and I expected a few deer. The deer didn’t show. What did show was a badger out in a stubble field. He was booking along, trying to get to his burrow somewhere.

I was fairly content with seeing something unusual, but then I got near Sun Valley. My highway crosses the one up into SV. There is a stop sign, and usually quite a bit of traffic.

Drivers were starting to accordion as they approached the intersection, and I may have slowed down a bit too much. I think I irritated the guy behind me. My reasoning was the herd of six elk that just crossed the road. Five cows and a six-point bull directing where they went. I don’t think he even saw them, and they were standing in short grass as we drove by.

I wanted pictures of all this stuff, but the traffic never cooperated with me. I know how to call a badger back up from his hole, and have done it many times. I have some beautiful photos from back in my 35mm days. I just didn’t have 30 minutes to spare. This is a work trip, and I really didn’t want to get here in the dark.

Nature wasn’t finished with me, though. About two miles past the intersection, there were two raccoons grabbing for something out in a stubble field. You don’t normally see them out in broad daylight. I slowed to see if there was a parking area, but there wasn’t. I don’t know if it was grain, or some kind of bug that brought them out, but it was cool to see.

I turned back toward my drive, and a rooster pheasant stepped right in front of the car. It didn’t end well for the pheasant. I heard the thump. I never saw him in my rear-view mirror, so drove to the nearby chain-up area. Once around the car, and no sign of him. This isn’t my truck, it’s a small state vehicle, so I was a bit concerned about cracking a headlight, or damaging the grill. No damage at all.

I cruised through Craters of the Moon, and enjoyed the scenery, but the wildlife had called it a day. Other than one last herd of antelope near Arco, that was it.

It was a fun day, but I didn’t get any pictures. I may have had my best chance with the raccoons, but the pheasant threw me off my game. (Raccoons aren’t known for a rapid retreat.)

I need to surf through a couple of websites, then I may add some new words to my side project. Goodnight everyone.

Does this Macabre Macaroni still smell okay?

Hi Gang, Lisa Burton here with the last of Macabre Macaroni for 2017. So far, we’ve raged through the streets as a monster while exploring some of the broken things about various systems. We’ve looked behind the curtain at a hospital to poke a stick in the idea of accountants running our medical professions. We even pulled up a lawn chair for the end of the world.

I’ll, sadly, be retiring my witch’s hat for now, but not until I go trick or treating. I may get to wear it a bit during the editing of Craig’s novella, The Hat.

Today, we’re just going to enjoy a bit of nature in a story Craig calls Little Brown Bat.

Little Brown Bat

Little Brown Bat crawled out of a crack along the cliff face. The crack, no wider than a bottle cap, had housed bats for over a hundred years.

He squinted at the setting sun, but decided to leave the roost early. Soon the nighttime sky would be full of his brethren, but Little Brown Bat knew something they didn’t.

They would all head for the college campus nearby and hope to find the night insects fluttering around the lights surrounding the quad.

Little Brown Bat was headed for Randall’s Marsh. Situated on an abandoned farm, the waters had not been dredged for swimming or poisoned for mosquito control.

Sometimes, if he was early enough, he could catch the last of the day-flying insects. Fat blowflies, and yellowjacket wasps full of meat, made for a satisfying snack. It takes a lot of food to keep Little Brown Bat in the air.

Once the sun set, the marsh itself always had a hatch of water borne insects. Sometimes they were mayflies, sometimes caddis, and if he was lucky a giant stonefly or two.

He ducked into the forest along the way, the shade protected his sensitive eyes from the setting sun. He caught a lazy moth in his tail and flipped it into his mouth on the way to the marsh. A tasty snack this early at night.

He veered onto the muddy two track road, and stayed about three feet off the ground. A fat blowfly gave him hope that he arrived early enough.

Wild yellow iris bloomed along the edge of the first pond, and spread across the boggy area. Later tonight the scent might attract one of the gigantic sphinx moths, nearly as large as he was. He moved on to the first small grassy mound, but it produced nothing more than a pair of lawn moths.

By the time he reached the earthen mounds, he’d scored a juicy yellowjacket and two more flies. The sixth mound remained bare earth. It takes time for the grass to grow over the fresh dirt. It appeared a coyote or some other creature dug deep here. Little Brown Bat caught flies by the dozens.

He made two more circles, but he’d caught all the day insects this evening this evening would offer. On his final turn he spotted a fresh hole.

Barely three feet deep, he knew it wouldn’t be long before it was filled back in. That’s when the day insects came. Sometimes they swarmed by the hundreds over the fresh mounds. He would be able to scoop up flies two and even three at once with his tail.

His friends could fight over the night insects at the quad, and scare the coeds to death. This was the place for Little Brown Bat. The holes always became a fresh mound in three days.

His radar detected the first of the caddis flies coming off the water’s surface. The day flyers were finished, but Little Brown Bat knew the ponds always held an abundance of night hatching insects. They’d been much more abundant this year for some reason. He veered out over the surface of the water.

The swollen faces of three coeds watched him from below the water’s surface. They’d been here for over a month, and the night insects seemed to hatch with greater frequency. They no longer screamed at the site of a tiny bat.

His radar detected a fluttering stonefly, and he veered left. He nearly brushed the exposed rib cage of another coed along the shore as he scooped with his tail, but he caught the huge insect.

Yes, Randall’s Marsh was a lonely place, but it was perfect for Little Brown Bat.

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If you enjoyed Macabre Macaroni 2017, you can always keep reading. Stories from previous years are available in the sidebar under the category Short Stories and Vignettes. If you’re really into it, and we hope you are, you can pick up some of Craig’s short story collections. Go to his Amazon Author page and look for either of the Experimental Notebooks, or both of them. You can also find some of Craig’s work in the anthologies Quantum Wanderlust and Macabre Sanctuary.