Hit this link https://www.snarkyghost.com/post/cemetery-soup?fbclid=IwY2xjawI-5VZleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHfXuOQHK21nOSShOoEmdpYvYQ06-noJiumbymX4DgbW-H98vKw0z-xHtvQ_aem_WuuCtT1ozrY2zqhPWffUsw to read Cemetery Soup, by Cindy Hernandez on Snarky Ghost. It's a most delightful read!
Blaze McRob
blazingowlpress.blogspot.com/2021/02/jd-phillips-woman-in-horror.html
JD Phillips is my Woman In Horror today! JD is a fascinating lady and has much to say. I asked her some questions in an interview we did a while back that I really wanted to get the answers to. All authors can certainly learn from each other, and some of the ideas in my mind happen to be in hers as well. It's really nice to know that you're not the only one on this spinning rock that wonders about such things. Read the interview at blazingowlpress.blogspot.com/2021/02/jd-phillips-woman-in-horror.html and see if you feel the same way. It's an eye opener for sure.
Blaze
If you're looking for a big collection of holiday horror tales that covers the entire year and every holiday, give Happy Bloody Whatever a look. Terri DelCampo and I have 46 stories for your ghoulish pleasure. Yes, I realize that not every collection of short stories is this meaty. This tome is filled with the ooky and spooky you're accustomed to getting from Terri and me. You can read it once, and then go back again and again for your favorite holidays. Twelve months equals a lot of holidays. A lot of horror. You can read our free sample at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MR1NLFZ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1483237436&sr=1-1&keywords=happy+bloody+whatever and see if this tome suits your desire to engage in dark reading with the lights down low. That's the best way, I believe.
Enjoy every holiday, the Happy Bloody Whatever way!
Blaze McRob
Terri DelCampo has compiled quite a collection of horror poetry to sate your poetic horror appetites. Broken Old Broad Busts A Beat: HO - PO (Horror Poems), produces in spades. Even the cover art tells a story. I like to think of it as a reflective skeleton. Is that possible? Why not? Terri's poems sure make one think. Rather than go on and on about each and every poem and steal from the ambiance that Terri has created, I will merely state that my favorite poem in this collection is Songs From The Hanging Tree. Read it and you'll see why.
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Book description:
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A handful of cobwebby rhymes and verse
Your yearning for ookiness these will nurse.
Not to be read by light of day
But in a dark nook, tucked away
Read each one and when you're through
Terri has novels and stories for you.
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Terri DelCampo is the founding editor and writer of Owl's Eye View Magazine, founding partner/writer/editor at Blazing Owl Press, author of 35+ novels, short story collections, children's collections, poetry collections, and multiple individual short stories available right here on Amazon. She pens Broken Old Broad Blogs, is a contributing writer for multiple horror anthologies, freelances poetry as well as non-fiction articles and essays. Terri is an ongoing competitor and winner of NaNoWriMo and Critters/Preditors & Editors Awards.
Terri is married to horror writer Blaze McRob and in 2015 they founded Blazing Owl Press where she is a very hands-on partner. Her duties at BOP include editing, producing book covers, and of course writing.
If you look up write-a-holic in the dictionary, Terri's picture is there.
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HO - PO. Buy. Read. Enjoy. It's that simple.
Blaze McRob
Today's Woman In Horror is Carson Buckingham, an author whose writing I really love. Enjoy this great interview we did a couple years back!
Go to https://blazingowlpress.blogspot.com/2021/02/carson-buckingham-woman-in-horror.html and read this great interview. You'll be glad you did.
Blaze McRob
Wolf Whispers, by Blaze McRob, is now available for sale on Amazon. This novel is a paranormal thriller with plenty of action, a healthy dose of martial law, modern-day civil war scenarios, love, and greed. Do you enjoy reading military fiction? If so, I believe you'll enjoy reading Wolf Whispers. We provide a generous free sample on Amazon.
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This book is dedicated to those who love freedom.
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Thank you for reading.
Blaze McRob
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PLPWZR3/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i117
The Ides of March is known worldwide for disasters occurring on it – the murder of Julius Caesar, a raid on South England in 1360, a cyclone in Samoa in 1889, Czar Nicholas abdicating his throne in 1917, German occupation of Czechoslovakia in 1939, Great Plains blizzard in 1941, cancellation of the Ed Sullivan Show in 1971, reporting of the disappearing ozone layer in 1988, world health alert about the disease SARS in 2003.
Of course, Owl's Nest being Owl's Nest, it has its own take on Ides of March.
Read Ides Of March, by Terri DelCampo, for a truly different addition to Ides of March happenings. You'll be glad you did.
Blaze McRob
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Terri DelCampo is the founding editor and writer of Owl's Eye View Magazine, founding partner/writer/editor at Blazing Owl Press, author of 35+ novels, short story collections, children's collections, poetry collections, and multiple individual short stories available right here on Amazon. She pens Broken Old Broad Blogs, is a contributing writer for multiple horror anthologies, freelances poetry as well as non-fiction articles and essays. Terri is an ongoing competitor and winner of NaNoWriMo and Critters/Preditors & Editors Awards.
Terri is married to horror writer Blaze McRob and in 2015 they founded Blazing Owl Press where she is a very hands-on partner. Her duties at BOP include editing, producing book covers, and of course writing.
Mediocrity sucks. Always strive to do your best in whatever you chose to do. If you write, write the best damned story that's ever been written. Believe in yourself. No one can write your story better than you.
I write about the Dark because it is the truth. Open your eyes and you will see that the spinning rock we live on is inhabited by some nasty creatures who have the nerve to call themselves humans. It’s my job to tell my readers about it, not by writing mamby-pamby puke pieces that make you gag, but by presenting true horror tales where the truth is spread around. No preaching. Simply good stories (I hope) with a message. Not everyone will get the message – I don’t beat anyone over the head with it – but it’s there. Some folks just enjoy the tales. Hey, that’s okay too. Escapism is a great thing. People have it tough in these times. By writing about the Dark, and expelling it from my soul, I enable myself to leave more room there for good things. That's if any are floating around at the moment. Okay, so that's a negative, pessimistic comment. I'm a pessimistic guy. I root for the under-dog, but she/he don't always win.
I don't write stories you discuss in a church book group. My vision of the hereafter belongs to me and me alone. While I discuss God and Satan, as makes complete sense because they are the consummate embodiments of Good and Evil, in my stories, God does not always win. Neither does the Dark Angel.
I wrote a tale a while back about past lives where the protagonist gets closer to perfection with each incarnation. The problem? With perfection comes a lack of empathy for humanity. My hero refuses to go along with what the High Council decrees and tries to help out humans. In this story, when humans die, they go to Heaven if they believe they are worthy, or they suffer in a Hell of their own making if they know they are evil. Maybe that's what I believe. Notice again, I said maybe.
My work on Earth is not finished. I have many tales to get out yet. I'm no spring-chicken anymore. That means I don't have years and years to put pen to paper. So, in a way, you could say I am exploring alternatives within my stories which will allow me to continue writing after I kiss off. That would make me a real ghostwriter. My science background also tells me that the energy within a person is never lost. If you die, it doesn't matter. The power still remains. And before you ask me again, this does not say if I believe in Heaven or Hell. Maybe . . . just maybe, Heaven would bore the crap out of me.
It is never too late to do what is right. Even from beyond the grave.
Some people say I don't use as much description as other authors. I do that for a reason. Everything that needs to be described is, but over description bores the living shit out of me and I'm sure it does to many readers. I believe my readers want to become a part of the tales I write, and what better way than to allow them to have their own visual perception of what is happening. Maybe they can put themselves in a room I'm in and can drink a beer as they watch me in action. If I leave out one of the senses, maybe they can find a particular revolting moldy odor that they hate. Like I said above, my readers are smart people.
What do I think of all the political happenings going on? Let me see. Do they merely suck, or do they suck a lot? They actually suck more than a lot. I see very few candidates for any office that I think are worth a damn. Most are out for taking our money. That goes for both parties. Our representatives only care for themselves. The worse part about all of this is the people will suffer. However, we are the ones who elected these bozo's into office and who will put more in. It's our fault. Look at yourselves in the mirror, folks, and say, "I fucked up." I think we need to get rid of the two major parties and start out fresh. We need to stop arguing about the color of a person's skin, gender association, and stupid crap like who uses what bathroom. Let's fix the important things. Take religion out of politics. It doesn't belong there. Outlaw lobbyists: they're nothing more than bribing thieves.
These are a few of my thoughts. I have many more to share with you, posts like these, as well as within my stories.
Happy reading.
Blaze McRob
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https://www.patreon.com/Blaze_McRob
https://www.patreon.com/posts/gumshoe-chapter-68442360For those of you who enjoy noir detective novels, I have included chapter one of GUMSHOE CONFUSION for your reading pleasure. This is a completed novel that is only available on my Patreon page.
To read the novel in its entirety, go to https://www.patreon.com/posts/total-chapter-81340961
Thank you, and happy reading.
Blaze McRob
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The lights from the street below send their patterns of fluorescent confusion into my office. How's a gumshoe supposed to sleep in the midst of this? Yeah, right: as if I have a choice.
My former flat belongs to some highfalutin dame now. All my belongings were confiscated and sold for non-payment of that little necessity needing to be paid, but one I wasn't able to chalk up the scratch for: rent.
Okay! Times were tough. The number of wives wanting their cheating husbands tailed had dwindled to nothing. What, like the scorned bimbos didn't need what I could offer? Pictures, times, dates: everything there for the black-robed ones to drool over as they decided how much the poor faithful ball and chains would get.
So I drowned a few sorrows with hooch I couldn't afford and dames I should have stayed away from. You know the ones. They cozy up to you in a dive they shouldn't be in, sitting on a stool next to your sorrowful butt, waiting for you to light their smokes, buy their drinks, and everything else that makes you think that maybe you still have something left to offer. Next thing you know, you're in their apartment, sharing a lot more than booze and smokes.
Sure, it feels good. It always feels good, but in the morning when you get up to leave and look at the pictures in their gilded frames, you realize you're no better than the cheating studs who think they can tap whatever they want and still keep wifey happy. Turns out: you're the one keeping her happy, playing the slap and tickle game, being used like the dog you are.
The smoke from my Chesterfield rises towards the ceiling, catching the glow of the streets below and dancing about in the changing air currents caused by the drafty windows. The office lights are off, but it doesn't matter, does it? Light from below and the ever-changing pulsing staccato from the sign on the roof a block away that can't decide if it wants to light up the sky or shoot its presence down into hell are what keep the darkness out.
I reach into my top right desk drawer and grab a bottle of Scotch. Okay, it's not the good stuff, but it's not bad straight up. Hmm. Maybe that's what kind of dog I am: a Scottish Hellhound, straight from off the moors, chasing innocent broads around. Yeah, right! There are no innocent broads. They want the same things guys want; they just don't admit it.
Tipping my fedora back and putting my feet up on my desk, I try to find a position that maybe I can get comfortable in. Fall asleep perhaps. I put out my finished smoke in the ashtray and figure maybe one more to relax me before I doze off. Halfway through and there's a knocking on my door.
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Cover art by Pexels.
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright 2022 by Blaze McRob. All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author directly. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.
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For a great look at a fantastic Woman In Horror, go to a post I put up a few years back. Susanne Leist is indeed a fantastic author. Susanne deserves to be spotlighted here and elsewhere! The link is:
https://blazingowlpress.blogspot.com/2021/02/susanne-leist-woman-in-horror.html
Happy reading!
Blaze McRob
MEDS, by Terri DelCampo, is a fiction novel about what goes on in the pharmaceutical industry. Then again, could these things actually happen? There's only one way to straighten things out in your mind. Buy and read.
You'll love this book about the spooky and ooky of medicine.
Blaze McRob
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Terri DelCampo is the founding editor and writer of Owl's Eye View Magazine, founding partner/writer/editor at Blazing Owl Press, author of 35+ novels, short story collections, children's collections, poetry collections, and multiple individual short stories available right here on Amazon. She pens Broken Old Broad Blogs, is a contributing writer for multiple horror anthologies, freelances poetry as well as non-fiction articles and essays. Terri is an ongoing competitor and winner of NaNoWriMo and Critters/Preditors & Editors Awards.
Terri is married to horror writer Blaze McRob and in 2015 they founded Blazing Owl Press where she is a very hands-on partner. Her duties at BOP include editing, producing book covers, and of course writing.
If you look up write-a-holic in the dictionary, Terri's picture is there.
Flash In The Pan is one Terri DelCampo's great short stories. I love how Terri keeps the reader more involved in the story with her styling of warnings throughout the tale, alerting the protagonists about things to do and not to do as the story progresses. She pulls this off well. Naturally, as I read the story, I was on the lookout for more clues to what was inevitable, but which actually wasn't. This brought about a paradox of facts and solutions to every twist and turn. Nothing is cast in stone in this story. This is a most intriguing tale.
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BLAZING OWL SHORT HORROR BY TERRI DELCAMPO offers up quick ooky fixes that you can squeeze into your day – or night – whenever you have a few minutes to read. Terri's goal is to see how many times she can send a chill up your spine in twenty minutes. Muahaha!
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Terri DelCampo is the founding editor and writer of Owl's Eye View Magazine, founding partner/writer/editor at Blazing Owl Press, author of 35+ novels, short story collections, children's collections, poetry collections, and multiple individual short stories available right here on Amazon. She pens Broken Old Broad Blogs, is a contributing writer for multiple horror anthologies, freelances poetry as well as non-fiction articles and essays. Terri is an ongoing competitor and winner of NaNoWriMo and Critters/Preditors & Editors Awards.
Terri is married to horror writer Blaze McRob and in 2015 they founded Blazing Owl Press where she is a very hands-on partner. Her duties at BOP include editing, producing book covers, and of course writing.
If you look up write-a-holic in the dictionary, Terri's picture is there.
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Happy reading!
Blaze McRob
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B084XVVLGQ/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i35
https://www.patreon.com/posts/gilas-supreme-42800148
Gilas Supreme, by Blaze McRob, is a tale of Mother Nature unleashing monsters on New Mexico and Texas. How far does she go with her revenge? Read the teaser I have below. and hopefully it will draw you into wondering what lies inside my twisted mind. After all, something like this couldn't really happen. Or could it?
Gilas Supreme is one of my more popular short stories and can be read on Amazon or on my Patreon page. I hope you enjoy it.
*****
The hot desert air barely moves, magnifying the intensity of what mother nature has decided will be the hottest summer on record. How many days of 110-degree heat in a row now? Thirty-four and counting. There has been no rain for many months, and this extreme temperature is set to cause fires over many thousands of acres if even only a single spark is ignited.
Shit! The brush has the consistency of tumble weeds, ones which haven’t seen a drop of water in a year. Flames would spread so fast here a person wouldn’t be able to drive away fast enough to escape them.
I shake my head. What the fuck am I doing here? My life is on the line, and for what? A job? My damned job might be history by the end of the year anyway. Budget cuts are playing nasty with people in my profession. Biologists are finding it difficult to gain any kind of job security anymore. Congress figures we’re an automatic budget cut item. They don’t give a damn what happens to the endangered species out here. Oil is what drives them. “Drill, baby, drill” is what is on the minds of these fat-cat politicians.
No sense in worrying about that now. I still have a job, and I’m getting paid to do it, so I will. Many native species have vanished from this area almost overnight. Owls, rabbits, deer, and more are almost gone. Even the damned snakes have dwindled in numbers. And the evening skies are so quiet one would think there is nothing out here at all other than an aging biologist trying to piece together the parts of the huge puzzle.
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright 2021 by Blaze McRob. All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author directly. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.
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Blaze McRob
https://www.amazon.com/NIGHT-OPS-Terri-DelCampo-ebook/dp/B07WKG2K51?ref_=ast_author_dp
NIGHT OPS, by Terri DelCampo is a total mind-fuck of a story. It is pure psychological horror the whole way. This is definitely one of my favorite stories that she has written. She holds nothing back. Just remember: some people are not to be trifled with. There will be consequences.
Read it and find out where Terri's mind roams when the blameless are blamed.
Blaze McRob
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Terri DelCampo is the founding editor and writer of Owl's Eye View Magazine, founding partner/writer/editor at Blazing Owl Press, author of 35+ novels, short story collections, children's collections, poetry collections, and multiple individual short stories available right here on Amazon. She pens Broken Old Broad Blogs, is a contributing writer for multiple horror anthologies, freelances poetry as well as non-fiction articles and essays. Terri is an ongoing competitor and winner of NaNoWriMo and Critters/Preditors & Editors Awards.
Terri is married to horror writer Blaze McRob and in 2015 they founded Blazing Owl Press where she is a very hands-on partner. Her duties at BOP include editing, producing book covers, and of course writing.
If you look up write-a-holic in the dictionary, Terri's picture is there.
I only have one item for you this week. It is my special Holiday story. I hope you get something from it.
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A breeze plays gently with the red roses completely surrounding Angela's tombstone. No one admits to planting them. One day they weren't there, and on the 'morrow, the bushes had arrived, resplendent with their bounty. Angela's favorites. Red. The rose of love.
She hadn't wanted a headstone at all. No cross, no plaque, no marker of any kind. I couldn't do that to her. Angela deserved that and so much more.
Nine short months was all we had together. After being in remission for six years, the cancer came back and claimed her, leaving me alone, except for the memories. I still have those, so many good times mixed in with the pain of watching her struggle, pain that I felt, not the physical pain of course, but the anguish of knowing there was nothing I could do to help her.
The huge hewn log ranch house was a perfect back drop for Angela's grave. She had wanted to be buried here; she wanted to be able to watch her kids, the little ones, those stricken with the same disease she had struggled with. It was necessary for her to be here for them. Even now. From beyond the grave.
We had planned for this day to come soon after we had gotten married. The ranch house would do for the ranch boss' living quarters, and the ranch hands had a spacious bunk house, but the children needed their own building: a large one, one that had room for the medical staff as well as them. And the special part of all of this, at least for the children, and Angela and me, was a prized part of the barn that belonged to the kids. This was a horse ranch, but that would never do. The children needed ponies.
Today is Christmas Eve. The barn is bedecked with two trees, one at the front, sitting to the right of the door, and one in the back. All the pony stalls have fancy, edible decorations – can't have them getting sick from eating non-pony food – and there are name plates waiting for the lettering to magically arrive from the eager fingers of the children as they pick their own names for the young animals they will love at first sight.
This is what Angela wanted. This is her gift to these special children.
I walk through the halls of the children's quarters, feeling the same pain inside that I always do. Yet, I can't allow it to show, can I? Hope . . . hope is all some of these children have. For some of them, this will be their last Christmas. Life can be cruel and twisted. It's so hard to reconcile the reality of what is with what we wish things could be. It cuts like a knife. And it cuts deep within me.
Little Mary sits in her wheelchair, accompanied by other children and the medical staff, looking at the huge tree, so dazzling to the eye, all of them talking about their hopes and dreams. She is only six years old, yet she is one of the ones who will not be around this time next year. But her spirit has not diminished. There is a warmth and a glow in her eyes, a special contentment.
I pull up a chair and sit next to her and give her a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Are you excited about tomorrow, Mary?" I ask.
She looks up at me, the tiredness in her gaze so apparent. "Yes, sir, I am. Tomorrow is a special day. I know it. It will be the best day in my life."
So full of hope, even now, and yet…there is a genuineness I can't put my finger on. She has no family, is filled with pain, and she is happy. "Why is that, sweetie?"
Nestling next to me, she says, "Tomorrow I will receive special gifts. The best ones ever."
It breaks my heart to see her in the state she's in, but her warmth, the heat from her happy soul, makes up for it. "I don't know about the other gifts, but I do know of a special one for you, Mary. I know you will be happy."
She reaches over and gives me the best hug she can with the frail arms she has.
"Time for you to get some sleep for the big day tomorrow," one of the nurses says.
I give her another quick peck on her forehead and a wink. "Tomorrow will be your day, Mary. You're right."
Walking past Angela's grave, I come to an abrupt stop. The wind is howling across the Wyoming plains and it is cold, but there are even more roses than there were before. For the first time since Angela's death, I feel a tingle of excitement. Why, I don't know, but the sadness in my soul is tempered with a warmth, one I don't understand, and which I don't feel is right to feel, and yet I do.
Sleep does not come easy for me.
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I dress as fast as I can, able to hear the children shouting out their happiness. I'm glad. The ranch hands, medical staff, and I all had a lot of fun picking out their presents. And soon, the trip to the barn will be made, that will make them even happier.
Excitement fills the hallways, but I don't see Mary. Is she still sleeping? Can't be. Not today. Not after what she told me last night.
Mary's room is filled with nurses and doctors when I arrive. She does not look well. Her eyes are small orbs lost within huge sockets, the flesh surrounding them dark and foreboding. Dr. King looks at me and shakes his head.
I have all I can do to keep the tears from falling down my cheeks.
She looks at me and a smile lights up her face. "Could you please carry me to the barn?" she says. "I had a dream the other night and I know what is waiting for me."
The doctor looks at me as if to say no, but he changes his mind. "Take her out, Mr. Anderson, but make sure she's wrapped up well."
"I'll bring out extra blankets, sir, " Peggy, the senior nurse in the room says.
I nod and pick her up as soon as she's properly dressed. At least Mary's happy, poor girl.
We enter the barn, and she tells me to stop at the stall with a brown filly lying in the hay. She has a gorgeous blaze on her nose and gives a slight whinny as we enter. She doesn't move as I sit down next to her with Mary in my arms.
Waiting until she is convinced that Mary is comfortable, Peggy gets up and goes outside the stall, closing it behind her. "Time to bring in the other children," she says.
I nod and settle back as Mary gently strokes the little foal. She couldn't be any happier.
"What should we name her?" I ask.
She is weakening rapidly, her breathing getting shallower, and she shakes as she says, "Angela. We will name her Angela."
My eyes about pop out of my head. Pure coincidence. Yet…
"My new Mommy's name," Mary says.
"New Mommy?"
"Yes. She will be here soon."
The day is a long one. Doctors and nurses visit all day. I know what's happening. Yet, as much as it tears me apart, I know what I have to do.
Darkness comes and I still hold onto my special little lady. Her strength reaches out to me; her warmth and love wrap around me. I should be numb from not having moved from my position all day, but I'm not.
All the other children have left the barn, and Mary and I are alone. The doctors have decided that Mary should receive her wish to remain in the barn overnight. The barn is heated and they have set up her IV. Around the clock, they come to check on her. Hoping beyond hope.
It is still Christmas Day, around 8:00 P.M., from what I can tell, when Mary's little face brightens up. "My Mommy will be here soon. I know it."
No, this can't be! I don't want to accept the truth.
The filly moves ever so slowly as something brushes against me and sits between us and the foal. Something special; something loving.
"Mommy, you're here."
"Yes, dear, I am, and I will never leave you."
Mary is lifted from my arms and placed into her Mommy's. I warmly gaze into the eyes of Angela, gone, but not gone, her spirit able to transcend all barriers.
"You will always be my Mommy?"
"Yes, my love, I will. And Bob will always be your Daddy, won't you, Bob?"
The tears fall down. There is no holding back now. "Yes, Angela. I will always love Mary and be her Daddy."
"See, Daddy? I told you this would be my best day ever."
We all hug, each of us not knowing who to embrace first.
For the longest time, a warmth surrounds me, one I know cannot last. I will hold on as long as I can. Maybe . . . just maybe.
Mary and Angela stand and hold hands. They reach down for mine, and we all leave the stall after petting the filly. Mary reaches into my pocket, grabs a red crayon, and writes Angela on the name plate.
"Perfect, sweetie," I say.
"Give us a head start to the door, Daddy, and come after us," Mary giggles.
I smile. "Okay."
By the time I reach the door, they are nowhere to be seen. I follow a trail of blankets; I know where it leads.
Two graves, two headstones, are side by side. As close as possible. The new grave has rose bushes surrounding it already. The full moon shines down on the headstones. Angela Anderson. Mary Anderson.
My girls are together. They are happy at long last.
******
This is my special Holiday story.
Love is always the most important part of any holiday, or any other day. Never forget that.
Thank you for reading this story.
******
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright 2020 by Blaze McRob. All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author directly. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.
