tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5774141940575450622024-03-13T03:03:22.624-07:00Possibilities for PublicationI like to tackle the hardest jobs initially. With that in mind, I should have edited my book first then written it.David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-9467470090115750622014-02-09T19:06:00.000-08:002014-02-09T19:06:21.650-08:00
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The
Adventures of Edwin D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Part fourteen<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A vacant feeling consumed me as
I slumped back into the chair. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cindy is so
beautiful</i>...letting out a deep sigh I looked at Bast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"What're we gonna do for
the next ten and a half hours?" Bast jumped up on the table and began
purring. The room faded and we were both standing next to my car. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Thank you Bast. We should
go and visit Cynthia." I drove my Corvette slowly through town; snow moved
out of the way as it encountered the car's wipers, wispy tendrils of mist
reached out trying to surround my vision. Squinting, I barely made out
Cynthia's driveway; the house appeared and I turned off the ignition in front
of the porch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Come on Bast; it's only a
short distance to the porch." No sooner was I outside my car; Bast was
already on the porch waiting for me. The snow storm surrounded me as I made my
way blindly to the front door. My fingers and ears were turning numb when I
rang the doorbell. No sound announced Cynthia's arrival, the door opened and
her hand waved us inside. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Welcome to our first
winter storm. It's most unusual, as we never see weather this bad much less
experience snow. Bast there's a bowl of—"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bast was a distant dot in the hallway as she
hurried toward the kitchen. "I declare, that cat lives on her stomach."
Cynthia looked at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Oh my, your hands and ears
are cherry red. You must be frozen." She led me to another room that
featured a long sofa, bookshelves and a large LCD TV; the fireplace exuded
warmth as I stood in front, rubbing my hands together; my fingers began to
tingle then ache, a sign of revival that I didn't look forward to, a painful
recovery. My ears began to tingle; Cynthia mumbled something and left, the soft
pops from the fireplace soothed the waves of shivers racking my body. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The room door opened and shut,
Cynthia entered with a tray and set it down on a table in front of the sofa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"David, come sit and watch
me as I put together this drink. My Greek grandfather swore by it as a cure for
everything from a common cold to the shivers." She lit a small candle
under a glass pot of steamy coffee. Taking two large mugs she dipped the rims
into a bowl of water then swirled them around on a plate of sugar. Opening a
bottle of Metaxa Brandy she carefully dripped some along the rim, and then set
it afire. Once the flames died down she filled the mug with coffee, Metaxa
Brandy and Ouza, an anise flavored liqueur. Thick whipped cream floated on top
and she handed a mug to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Cynthia raised her cup,
""Stin Ygia Sou, to your health." After sipping a mouthful I
grinned at her and nodded my head in approval.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I must have this recipe;
my shivers are gone and feelings are coming back to my ears and fingers."
Cynthia smiled at me and placed her cup on the tray. "The sugar on the rim
is caramelized and ads a sweetness to the bitterness of the coffee and cuts
down the anise flavor. Now tell me everything that Cindy told you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I quickly recapped Cindy's
story. Turing on my tape recorder Cynthia and I listened to the
conversation...Cindy's soft voice mesmerized me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"The bookcase is in
father's room. I'll be glad to show it to you." I stood and extended my
hand; Cynthia grabbed it and pulled herself upright. "Follow me." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Bast
if you can hear me meet us in Cindy's father's room. </span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A soft purring sounded at my
feet as we ascended the staircase. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank
you Bast. </i>Cynthia stopped and pointed to a door on the right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"It's in there." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Opening the door Bast and I
entered. A canopied bed was to the left; a tall mirror stood to the right of
the bed, an open door on the left side led into a large closet, along the
opposite wall was the three-door book cabinet. When my hand reached for the
latch it encountered a field that shimmered yellow and gold; the harder I
pushed the brighter the colors became. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Bast what do you think, is
it spell bound and if so can you open it?" Bast walked to the mirror and
sat on her haunches. A bright sheen covered her them extinguished. The face of
the mirror clouded, a beautiful tall slender blue woman with wavy hair smiled
at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">"My name is Daleeah, wife of Orion and I will
be your guide and fount of knowledge. How can I help you?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"My name is David and I'm trying to gain entrance into
that," my arm pointed behind me, "bookshelf." I briefly told her
of Cindy's predicament and my efforts to bring her home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Dressa the Black has
caused nothing but trouble since Jen woke him from his magical slumber. I will
aid you in opening the bookcase." A bright light forced me to turn my head
and shut my eyes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Sorry for the bright
discomfort but that's how we travel." Daleeah moved swiftly to the bookcase
and placed her hands on the spell of closure left by Cindy's father. The gold
and yellow colors blazed, then suddenly extinguished; the three doors swung
open. "I see books of magic that shouldn't be here."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I'm looking for something,
that he might have left behind, that will tell me where the dimension that
Cindy is trapped in is located. If I find out, I can write a way for her to
come home." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"All I know is that Cindy
is trapped in a dark dimension, hidden behind veils of black magic. I'll take
these books and look through them for clues to her location. I'll also talk
with </span>Úma, the queen of the wee folk <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and see if I can tag along the next time they visit Cindy.
There are few places in the universe that I don't know of." I nodded my
head in agreement and before I could thank her the room brightened and Daleeah and
the books vanished. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">To be continued.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">To see a faire—is a dream come true.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">To be granted the Gift of Erin—priceless.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">LIVING ENDURINGLY<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">(Book two in the Darkside of the Medallion trilogy)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-81500196192185413712013-12-05T00:41:00.002-08:002013-12-05T00:41:48.641-08:00
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The
Adventures of Edwin D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt;">Part thirteen<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
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Sliding
my chair back I stood. "You look amazing," blurted out of my mouth. </div>
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"Romance
can come later. You need to ask me questions and bring me back home."</div>
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"Sorry,
it's just that you've been on my mind since I first saw you." I realized
that forgot to bring my list of questions and would have to wing it. "Tell
me about this dimension." I sat down again and turned on my tape recorder.</div>
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"I
call it the October Country."</div>
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"October
Country?"</div>
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"Reminds
me of Chicago during winter; icy and windy. If it weren't for the elves, I
would've frozen to death a long time ago. They brought me food, warm clothing
and blankets." She blushed, "I changed to these cloths for you."
I made a mental note to thank the elves.</div>
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"Where
is this dimension located?"</div>
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"Not
a clue. The night sky is totally different than the one over us now. It's cloudless
and dreary during the day. At night things fly about in the dark that I can
only imagine, want to do me harm."</div>
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"Where
do you spend your nights?"</div>
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"The
elves found a cave for me. After checking it they helped me build a wind block
and a secure door. I collect wood during the day and burn it inside at night.
Water trickles in the back of the cave. The elves have brought cast iron pots
and pans that I use to cook in and gather water."</div>
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"If
I can locate this dimension then I can write about it; changing the weather and
creatures that wander its barren landscape. I wonder if there's anything in
your father's room that might shed some light."</div>
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"The
old goat did have a cabinet filled with his things. Problem is that it's magic
spelled shut. Cynthia and I couldn't open it."</div>
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"I'll
check it out...say how did you send your cat through the portal?"</div>
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"You
mean Bast? She's still with me. She keeps me company. If it weren't for her I'd
have gone crazy."</div>
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"Huh,
still with you...then who is this other feline that Cynthia recognizes and
calls Bast? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh my, could it be the cat that
I wrote into all of my books, Bast? Bast has magical powers, because she is the
offspring of the ancient Egyptian Cat Goddess Bastet. </i>It made sense; I
created Bast in my normal dimension. My mind raced, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I can use her to undo the spell on Cindy's father's bookcase.</i>
"I believe that I have a solution to opening your father's bookcase."
Cindy smiled. </div>
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"Cindy,
how is it that you can visit here without the use of a portal?"</div>
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"I
use the portal. It's still open at my end and closed at yours. Only my
spiritual body can make the trip. My physical body is sleeping behind the
locked door of my cave. When both ends of the portal are open then I'll be able
to come home. </div>
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"Did
the elves tell you about your mother?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"You
know where my mother is?" I nodded my head.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"She
landed on Pelta, a planet that I'll be visiting tomorrow. Jen and Company are
going to introduce me to the use of magic. Once I understand its concept I'll
be able to use it in my story to aid my protagonists. On the next foggy night I
would like both you and Cynthia to visit me in my new home. I'll be able to
bring your mother for a visit."</div>
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"Wonderful,
I can't wait. Maybe you could also print out copies of your completed
manuscripts and I can begin reading them."</div>
<br />
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"After
you leave here are you going to visit your sister?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Depends
on the time; I have to be back inside my body before midnight." I checked
my watch.</div>
<br />
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"We
have been chatting for almost two hours; still have three and a half before
midnight. Cynthia has copies of my books."</div>
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"David
I should go. I promise to visit you in your new dimensional house on the next
foggy night." She began to fade away. I reached out my hand; too late, all
I felt was an icy cold breath wrapping itself around my arm. </div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Verbal
stories, passed from one person to another, often differ from the original with
each telling.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Stories
in an author's mind that are turned into books remain unchanged for eternity.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To be continued</b>.</div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-13943800938256829842013-11-19T02:06:00.001-08:002013-11-19T02:06:23.666-08:00
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<h2 align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></h2>
<h2>
</h2>
<h2 align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt;">Part twelve<o:p></o:p></span></h2>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 127.5pt 151.5pt;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"They're
gone, what happened to them; and those owls, why did they hoot so loudly?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I
added the owls in my second book. They were a gift from the Greek goddesses
Hera and Athena. Jen uses them to keep an eye out for Seth as he sends his
troops through the Void Express. When the owls detect movement in that
dimension, they warn Jen and Company by hooting; that's why everyone left in
such a hurry; a fight is brewing. Funny, I don't remember writing about a fight
scene yet, I might have thought of it." Cynthia nodded her head.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You
need to practice not thinking." I looked at Cynthia and she blushed.
"I mean stop thinking of your story while you're inside this dimension."
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Like
that'll happen. How can I put a cork in my mind? It's like tugging on
Superman's cape or spitting into the wind, both produce nasty outcomes. I need
to get my mind on something else like my meeting with Cindy later tonight.
Turing I went to the book cases and returned with two manuscripts.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"You
should take home a copy of my first two manuscripts. This'll give you a better
understanding of what's taking place. I need to send you and Bast back
home."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Please
tell me everything that you and my sister discuss tonight, no matter how late."
I nodded and thought them home. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Rafael,
are you close?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Behind
you Master." My heart did a flip-flop. I spun around. Rafael stood inches
from my face looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes
master, be quick as I have to ring the bells in ten minutes and you know how I
hate to climb all of those steps." I quickly thought him back. "Yes
David how may I be of service?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'll
be spending tonight locked in the town's library and need a meal and
coffee."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I
will get it together for you now." With four hours to spare I thought
myself in a bathing suit and headed to the swimming pool. I mean, what better
way to clear my mind. The water was like a Mediterranean sea on a hot June day,
warm and refreshing. My shoulders stretched as I propelled myself through the
water. The music of Jaws came to mind, Dum Dum Dum...something scraped against
my stomach; pain clouded my mind and blood traced my path in the water. A large
fin appeared in front of me slowly turning around. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What the hell?</i> </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The
largest set of jaws that I could have imagined broached the water. I thought
myself instantly on the deck of a large fishing craft; Jaws was headed directly
for my small insignificant self, hardly a tender morsel for such a large shark.
The ship began to rock and something rolled into my ankles knocking me to the
deck. I reached out and grabbed onto an oxygen cylinder. Standing I managed to positioned
it on the deck railing. Grabbing a length of rope I secured the cylinder to the
railing and stood back just to the left, and thought of a sledge hammer; my
right hand became heavy. Raising my arms I waited. Jaws was ten feet away and
closing rapidly. The shadow of the shark loomed over me. I swung the sledge
hammer as fast as I could, severing the valve from the cylinder's end. Swoosh,
it propelled into the open jaws and forced the shark to abandon his snack. I
thought myself back into the library. My stomach was on fire and blood seeped
between my fingers. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bast, are you near?</i>
Light headiness forced me to my knees and I passed out. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cindy, Cindy what are you doing to me? I'll
do anything to save you. </i>A rough tongue brushed across my face, my dream
became a memory. My eyes opened and I held Bast away from my face. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Bast,
what's with the sandpaper treatment?" Then I remembered, the shark, my
stomach, my blood. "Thank you Bast for coming to my rescue." Pulling
up my clean shirt I did a double take. There were no stitches, blood or proof
that a great white had slit open my stomach with his fin. I was back to normal;
still skinny mind you but happy. "I can't thank you enough. Let's grab
something to munch on." Purring filled the space around me as I led Bast
to the kitchen. Passing a large grandfather clock I noted that I had an hour
before I needed to be at the library. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Rafael
met us and led Bast to her food bowl. "I am glad to see you in good
health. I have your dinner and coffee ready." </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Thanks'
Rafael. I'll be leaving in a few minutes after Bast has some food."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I
anticipated that she would accompany you and added food and water for
her." Smiling I nodded my head.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Bast
shake a leg. Aren't you coming with me?" Purring followed me as I walked
outside the house and entered my car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking
in the rearview mirror I watched my old house get smaller and then fade out of
sight, swallowed up in the fog that was rolling in. Bast followed me into the
library; Cheryl Snide was beginning her nightly routine of hurrying the last visitors
out of the front door. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hello
David, are you ready to be locked in?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I
am. What time do you think she'll appear?"</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Anytime
between now and midnight. She once told me she has to leave before the bewitching
hour." I nodded my head and heard the clicking of the key in the lock.
Looking around I found a table and chair and sat down. I retrieved Cindy's
diary and began reading. Bast appeared on the table and curled up for a
cat-nap. As I read I noticed a loud rushing sound in my ears and realized it
was the sounds of silence. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"David,
I'm so glad to see you again." The diary slipped from my hand and fell
with a loud slap upon the table. Cindy stood in front of me...</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">To be Continued<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor
all your Tears wash out a Word of it<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">-- Omar Khayyam<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-13111792580525780722013-11-03T17:50:00.000-08:002013-11-03T17:50:29.502-08:00
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">Part eleven<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
I led
Cynthia back to the couch, patting her hand.<br />
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I'll
ask Úma what I need to do; don't worry, we'll get your mother and sister
back." I stood and addressed Úma.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Why
can't I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think</i> Cynthia's mother here?'</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"You
could, however she would always be stuck in this house. Remember, this house is
in a different dimension; not on Earth. Something for you to consider for your
third book; we have taught Rachel the use of magic; she wants to take part in
the fight against Seth and her husband." I looked at Úma and smiled. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I'm
beginning to understand how everything works. Her future existence rests on
what I write inside this house, in my third novel." Úma nodded her head. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Check
page three-hundred and sixteen in the list of suggestions. It will tell
everything that Jen and Company and the fairies of Erin have done to aid
Rachel." <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Three-hundred and sixteen; what'd
they do, write a book? No wonder it smarted when it landed in my lap. </i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Sometimes
I'm brutal with my character's' especially Jen, Sally and Cheryl." </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Check
page four-hundred and fourteen," Jen shouted; pointing to her left arm,
Sally and then Cheryl. I remembered all of the pain and anguish I inflicted
upon my main characters. I had no remorse as it moved my story along. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I've
a problem with all of this and wonder if I'm capable of aiding any of you. My
merest thoughts have done nothing but produce unexpected results." I
pointed out Jen and suppressed a laugh. A scream of anger erupted in front of
me. Jen once again sported a wooden leg and her parrot left her shoulder and
flew around the room screeching, "<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I'm
free, I'm free." </i>I quickly thought the bird into my last novel and she
disappeared from the room. Please don't ask me what I'm going to do with a
parrot in my final manuscript; I haven't the foggiest—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">well maybe I do know, guess you'll have to wait until I write it. </i>I
thought Jen back to normal.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"See
what I mean; my thoughts are uncontrollable." Purring entered my mind in a
laughing manner. I brushed it off and glanced at my watch and panicked. I had less
than a half hour to dash to the museum.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
hate to leave, but I have only thirty minutes before the library closes." Úma
smiled at me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"As
long as we are in this dimension with you, time stands still. When we leave and
you return Cynthia to her home you will have five and a half hours before your
library visit." </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"In
order to hone my writing skills and help you bring and end to this seven
thousand year war between deities; I'll need to experience the use of your
powers. This will allow me to write clearer descriptions of its use, destruction
and consequences during a battle." Jen smiled at me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"We'll
be glad to take you to Pelta and let you experience first-hand the uses of the
powers you've enabled us to possess. It's an awesome feeling when deadly energy
flashes from your hands and strikes your intended target. The downside is the uncertainly
of success or failure during a battle; this is a hard pill for me to swallow,
not believing in myself, as I mentioned on page seven hundred and
twenty-one." My head snapped up and i looked over the gathered crowd. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
'Let
me understand this better. All of you have complaints—"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Respectful
requests, not criticisms or grievances." Jen was quick to note. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
I
returned to my seat and picked up the heavy package. My pocket knife sliced
through the string. Holding a handful of pages I quickly skimmed through them.
New clothing topped the list followed closely by fast food restaurants, up-to-date
movies, popcorn machines, more magical powers and a sister." My eyes
screeched to a halt, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a sister! Who wrote
this?</i> It was signed Jen. I looked at her and she shushed me with her finger
across her mouth. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Must be a secret she
wants fulfilled, and not know to anyone present. I'll give this some serious
thought. </i>Jen smiled and mouthed "thank you." I forgot that she
can read my mind. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
'When
would you like to visit Pelta and learn powers?" Bast slithered around Jen
and looked at me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"My
big distraction is seeing Cindy again. Once she answers my questions then any
time is all right." Purring filled my mind.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Tomorrow
night we we'll take you to Pelta via the Void Express; by the way, nice touch
with that faster than light teleportation medium." I smiled at Jen. The
hooting of owls filled the music room and my guests began vanishing as fast as
they had arrived; Cynthia, Bast and I were the only ones in the music room. The
house was quiet. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 17pt;">Magical
powers, in the hands of loose cannons; can harm you.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 17pt;">Powers in an
author's mind are awesome and safe.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">THE DARKSIDE
OF THE MEDALLION<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To be continued. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-11228761164356682392013-10-27T11:11:00.001-07:002013-10-27T11:25:10.863-07:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<h2 align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span></h2>
<h2 align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt;">Part ten<o:p></o:p></span></h2>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Wiping
my mouth with my napkin I proclaimed the dessert a masterpiece of the culinary
arts. Standing, I held out my hand to Cynthia. We walked to the music room and
settled ourselves in the settee. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Did
I hear the name of my sister spoken between you and Úma?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"You
did. She said the Cindy told her that I was a true gentleman. When I asked her
about it she told me that we have a lot of talking to do; so, we wait for their
arrival."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
believe that you posses the power to bring her back into our world. I only wish
to know if she's safe. I miss her so much." She shook her head and
laughter snorted out of my nose. Colors flew off of her hair. Her eyes opened
wide and she laughed, pointing to my head.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Now
I understand what Úma did when she placed her hands on our heads." </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"You
mean that colors are trailing behind my head every time I move it."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Yes;
isn't it wonderful? I feel so happy and relaxed."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Coffee
is served," Raphael entered the room carrying a large silver tray filled
with coffee and cups. He placed it on the round marble topped table in front of
the fireplace. "I have regular coffee, Cappuccino and Espresso. Which
would you prefer?" I turned to Cynthia—and smiled.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
would like a cup of Espresso and another of Cappuccino, two sugars
please." My eyes arched because that's what I was thinking of ordering.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I'll
have what the lady just ordered, no sugar." Now it was Cynthia's time to
smile.<br />
<br />
I like my Cappuccino strong. After drinking a quarter of the cup, I
poured in the demitasse of Espresso and stirred it. Perfect. Looking up I was
amazed to discover all of the other chairs and sofas filled with smiling faces,
each with a hot mug of their choosing. Jen and company, Michelin and Clancy,
and Perseus sat opposite Cynthia and me. King Lugus and his bride sat on the
French Love Seat to our left and Úma sat to my immediate right accompanied by
hundreds of the wee folk. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is gonna
be a powwow to remember. </i>Jen smiled at me and stood; walking to the space
between the two settees.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"We've a lot to discuss and time is short. Have you heard of the alien invasion
against the United States?" I nodded my head.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
remember reading an article in our town's local newspaper and passed it off as
fanciful. Are you telling me that what I've written about is now reality?"
Jen finished her coffee and placed the cup on the round table.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Yep,
it's as real as your vivid imagination allows. You've brought all of us,"
her hand sweep around the room, "to life in an alternate reality. Call it
a parallel universe, but the fact remains, that whenever you write a single
page our adventure follows your every word. We've put together a list of
suggestions." Her hand shot out and a large package landed heavily on my
lap. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ouch,</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that'll leave a mark. </i>"What've you got in here–bricks?" I
removed the offending box and placed it on the floor<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. She just grinned at me and I'll bet she's enjoying this, isn't she? A wooden
leg might teach her a lesson. </i>And there she stood, and eye-patch covered
her left eye, she had one normal leg and the other one was wooden. A green parrot screeched from her right shoulder.<em>Opps</em>; I quickly thought her back. Sally and Cheryl clung to each other, laughing and pointing to Jen.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<br />
"Yes,
and that's the reason where're gathered together, to explain your powers to you
and tell you what you can and shouldn't do with them. Your title is David—Ink
Pen—the word that commands." Her voice rose. "However, it's not to be
taken lightly. With power comes responsibility. Like my medallion, there're two
sides to your ability. One side exists when you are outside of this house and
the other happens here, inside this dimension. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
wanted to thank you for this unbelievable gift."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Thank
the goddess Neith, she's the one who commanded that it be built and made
available for your continuous use. She drew upon all of your wishes and dreams
to make it a place you would be familiar with and happy to live in." <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank you Neith; I'm not sure what's going
on, but I'm grateful for your gift. </i>Purring entered my mind. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"David,"
my head lifted and Jen occupied my vision again. "When you're outside of your
new dimensional home and you put word to paper it will affect those around you.
In short, things will happen in your world. When you're inside your home all
you need to do is think of something and it will happen here or in another
universe/dimension. Cindy is trapped in a black dimension and needs your help
in returning."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"How
do I find out what is needed to return her?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"You
must speak to her in the library. She'll answer all of your questions. Cindy is
powerless to help herself and needs you to bring her back. This may not happen
today or even a year from now. Remember, there's a fine connection between what
you write about your characters in the Darkside of the Medallion and Cindy's
personal hell." My mouth fell open.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Personal
hell? Is Cindy in grave danger, sick or worse?" Úma walked over to Jen and
whispered in her ear. Jen nodded and stepped back.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"The
wee folk of Erin are gifted with being able to visit all of the dimensions
including the black ones. Unfortunately we have no powers in the black ones, <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ó</span> fer sure we can still
come and go just not perform any magic in that cursed area. On one visit to the
seventeenth dimension some of me wee folk chanced upon Cindy and her cat. They
have been bringing her food and other comforts every time they visit that
place. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"The
place is controlled by her father, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dressa
the Black</i>. He is a Ganallie, a purveyor in the dark arts and was trapped on
your earth for many hundreds of years. Then he discovered a way to make a
portal and thinking that it was connected to his home world of <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Asgoguard in the
Pippard Galaxy</span>, he tricked his wife through first. She landed instead, in
the Ardellon galaxy on Pelta in the Udorn city of Nacht.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Seth destroyed most of the Udorn cities
many causalities and injuries occurred including Dressa's wife, Rachel."
Cynthia stood.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"My
mother is injured and living on an alien planet!" Tears welled in her eyes
and her voice wavered. "How...do we bring her back?" </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you're
successful at one thing in your life—pass it on.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">You'll be
rewarded a hundredfold with friendships that last a lifetime.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">FIRE IN THE
SKY<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">To be continued<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-73801076912014963162013-10-20T01:49:00.001-07:002013-10-20T01:49:07.702-07:00
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">The
Adventures of Edwin D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">Part nine<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Utter Chaos<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
view from my end of the table was utter chaos. Streams of colors filled the
room up to the chapel ceiling. Looking at all of the grinning faces sitting
around the table, the word dwarfs rose to the top of my creature description
list. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No, these have to be the fairies
that I wrote about in my third manuscript.</i> Swinging my head to the right I
saw King Lugus and his bride, Queen Aine. The queen was more beautiful than my
written description and I made a mental note to upgrade her beauty in my
manuscript. Her dress was made from the finest spun gold thread; the sleeves,
hemline and high collar were covered in deep green stitching depicting
traveling vines containing flowers of every type and size. The slightest
movement of her yellow hair was followed by a trail of colors and her eyes were
the vivid hue of Robin eggs. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
King looked exactly as I described him. His eyes were bloodshot and his
clothing, fine as they were, looked like he had just lost a fight with the
Tasmanian devil. His white beard proudly displayed red stains from too many
mugs of wine that missed his mouth. However, his eyes that danced and sparkled
made me happy. I nodded my head in his direction. The sound of a knife striking
a glass brought me out of my surprised state of mind. Silence ensued in the
vast room, even the trails of color froze in mid flight. The queen stood and
faced me. She raised her wine glass.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"To
David Ferretti, Ink-Pen. We thank ya for offering to share this fine feast with
the fairies of Erin." The sound of a hundred Sidhe lifting their glasses
and screaming, "To David," was deafening. I felt so small and alone.
I mean, I was the only human on my side. The others were Narkins and fairies; no,
something was missing. My head shot up and I looked around the table. I found
them on my left side, Isis, and Meres, Ardella, the Virgin Warrior Queen and
Dianna, The Huntress. To their right sat Michaleen and Clancy. Inwardly I
laughed because I had so much fun writing their descriptions and dialogue.
Perseus sat to Clancy's left. He was the Commander of Isis' army. Isis' long
red hair reminded me of Cindy. She smiled at me and leaned closer; a trail of
colours outlined her movements. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"We
need to talk after eating." Her voice was soft and I nodded my head and
smiled back. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She is so beautiful. Maybe I
should tone her down, give her an eye-patch or wooden leg; nixes, if it isn't
broken don't mess with it.</i> Narkins began placing food in front of the
guests while another group of Narkins followed behind filling the water and wine
glasses.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>King Lucas must have had a hollow leg because
no sooner did he touch his drink to his lips, he was waiving his empty glass
high in the air yelling for more wine to quench his dryness. Lively Irish music
sprang up, drowning out the king's bellowing, and step dancers appeared around
the table. To me it sounded more like energetic floor tapping followed by loud shuffling,
but what do I know.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I wish Cynthia and Bast were here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"David,
is this where you live?" I dropped my fork and looked to the left; my eyes
bulged, Cynthia sat next to me and my heart screamed for Cindy. Bast jumped
upon the table, sat next to me and began purring. A few seconds later my mind
cleared and I felt like I just came from the massage parlor. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Just
something that Bast dug up, like it?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Love
it is more like it. That pool is fantastic, if only I had my bathing
suit." It was only a brief thought...now don't go blaming me for one
teensy weensy idea—Cynthia sat next to me in a two piece bikini that would have
made a Victoria Secrets model blush. My breath stopped, eyes opened wider than
I thought possible and my heart beat the cadence of a Jitterbug across my
chest. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
room became deathly silent—all eyes zeroed in on the front of the table. Quickly
thinking, I changed her attire, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now why
did I think of an Eskimo?</i> She was smothered in seal sin and furs. I
remembered another of my manuscripts...Cindy now wore a beautiful black evening
gown, black stockings and heels. Over her left shoulder was a thin pleated
section that went down the dress and then slid behind the back and trailed a
short distance over her right shoulder. This section shimmered iridescent red.
Laughter and chatter once again filled the hall. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
If I
told you that the dinner passed in silence, it would be a lie. Loud belches
filled the hall, fairies were cleaning heir mouth with their sleeves and many
spit food on the floor if it disagreed with them. The only ones with manners
were the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wee folk</i> and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">humans</i>. I looked at Jen and company
(that's what they're called in my novels) Meres looked at me and mouthed.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
know something about you that you don't." She smiled at me. I wrote Meres into
book three, she is a Seer, and can farsee into the future. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Showing off is more like it</i>, but I had to admit—it aroused my curiosity.
I waved at Rafael and told him Cynthia I would take our coffee and whatever Jen
and Company drank in the music room.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Cynthia
and I need to talk with them, away from the noise." The purring of Bast
filled the empty space between my ears. Something caught my eye. Traveling down
the long table was a small streak of color. It deftly avoided each of the
twenty tall silver candle sticks spaced down the table's center and stopped by
my right side. Another seat magically appeared next to mine. I held out my hand
but couldn't capture it; before my eyes this small dot of color changed into a
full grown woman. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"My
name is Úma. I am the queen of the wee folk and it be me honor to meet ya."
Her gown was gold in color with the material cascading downward in front like
water lapping gently against a beach. Around her shoulders was the finest silk
sleeved cape that I've ever seen. Wee folk clung to the material; causing it to
shimmer and shine as she walked. Pushing back my chair I stood and pulled her
chair out.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
am honored to meet ya. Your hair is like the fairest yellow of the sun, on a
new summer solstice<span style="color: red;"> </span>and your eyes sparkle with
the color of Erin. Please sit." </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Ye
be all that Cindy told us, a true gentleman." Wee folk streamed toward the
three of us, tying ribbons of color in our hair. Úma placed her hands on my
head, stood and did the same to Cynthia. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
have given ye a gift that will only manifest when ye be in the presence of the fairies
of Erin. It's much fun." My mind finally caught up with me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Did
you mention that Cindy spoke to you about me?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Yes,
after dessert we have a lot of talking to do."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">To use magic to win a victory—awesome!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">To win a victory without the use of
force—brilliant.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">FIRE IN THE
SKY<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To be continued.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-35016000427545975222013-10-13T02:17:00.000-07:002013-10-13T02:17:15.811-07:00
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">Part eight<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Chandeliers
hung in my living room, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my living room</i>?
Not small mind you, but full six foot diameter crystal cut glass ones. Stepping
into the hallway I noted large twin stairways leading to the upper floors; I'd
explore the wonders above later. I walked down the long hallway and slid open
the doors to the music room; déjà vu. The fireplace must have been six feet
wide and the paintings on the wall; well let's say they would be a proud
addition to the Louvre. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Wait,
I moved closer to a larger than life painting of Lady Liberty leading the
Parisians to victory. My eyes bulged; Lady Liberty's face was Cindy's and the
man standing to her right wearing a tall hat and holding a musket was me! A
black cat with angry red eyes walked next to Lady Liberty. The small brass
plate proclaimed it a painting by Eugene Delacroix, 1850. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That cat looks suspiciously like Bast. </i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
rest of the house looked Late Victorian with many modern day improvements, such
as a swimming pool that began inside the rear of the house and extended into
the back yard. And then I discovered something unbelievable. Stepping outside
the front doors, I turned around and saw my old house. Walking back inside I
was once again in splendor. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My new house exists
in another dimension! </i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
I
figured that I should write back my old house, but what the heck, the new one
was what I'd dreamed of all of my life. Yes I'll keep it. Did I mention the
game room or the library and that the kitchen was stocked to the ceiling with real
food, not frozen TV dinner mind you! I pinched my arm to remind me to thank
Bast. That night I collapsed on the large canopied bed that floated above the
floor. Staring out of the window I watched stars from a distant galaxy; far
different than the Tennessee night sky I was used to. You ask what I thought
about all of the strange happenings in my life. As I stated before; I'm a
fantasy writer and accept the impossible as reality; at least I believe in the
impossible.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Sitting
behind the large walnut desk in the library, I stared at a blank sheet of
paper; thinking of questions I would ask Cindy latter tonight. A soft
"pop" sounded to my right; my eyes scanned the area. Nothing was out
of place; then I noticed it. A large paper envelope lay next to my right elbow.
</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Reaching
over I picked it up. The handwriting was feminine and simply stated that I
should ghostwrite the manuscript for the entire world to read. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"I'll let you pick a proper name for
it, If you help me I'll help you and..."</i> the letters trailed off. It
was signed Jennifer Lynn Standford. A cat's paw print covered the bottom half
of her signature; like old document seals of times past. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
A meow
sounded in my mind and I looked around, no Bast was visible. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I bet that she's telling me to finish
bringing Cindy back then look over the manuscript. </i>Picking up my pencil I
began making a list of questions. The pencil dropped to the desk and my hands
covered my ears. Loud purring filled my head; driving me crazy. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Bast,
thank you for my wonderful-house; please stop your loud purring, I need to concentrate
on questions to ask Cindy." The loud noise inside my mind suddenly ceased
and I resumed my task; the manuscript forgotten for now. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
My
question list was short nevertheless the answers would take me leagues down the
path to bring Cindy back. Looking at my watch I discovered that it was
approaching twelve noon; my tummy rumbled. A knock at the library room door
almost caused my heart to stop. A voice spoke my name.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Master
David, lunch is served in the dining room." </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who's this nutcase? </i>I got up and
approached the door. "Who are you and why are you in my house?" My
hand turned the doorknob and opened it. Standing in front of me was a seven
foot metal man dressed in a proper butler's uniform. My heart drummed a dirge
across my chest and I felt light headed. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Master
David I am a Narkin, your protector, teacher and your personal butler in charge
of your household staff. My name is Nartasedellian. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Narta
who," blurted out of my mouth. By this time the cadence turned into a requiem,
complete with coffin bearers leading a silent group of people toward the cemetery.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">That name has got to be changed into
something that I can remember. </i>"Can I call you Narta or." My eyes
zoomed in on a large painting by Rafael, an Italian <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">painter</span> and architect of <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">the</span>
High Renaissance period. "Rafael? Your real name is too hard for me to
pronounce."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Rafael,
God's Archangel of healing, Rafael it is." He didn't smile, only winked an
eye at me. I followed Rafael down the hallway to the dining room. Something
smelled wonderful. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Entering the room I stopped abruptly; later I
had to think about why I froze. Was it the large number of Narkins, setting the
hundred foot long Chippendale table or maybe it was the Sistine Chappell
ceiling, complete with all of the frescoes and paintings, supported on the
shoulders of Greek columns? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This house of
mine is huge! </i>Rafael continued walking to the far end of the table, and
pulled out an ornate chair. I hurried to catch up with him. Soft purring
entered my mind. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thank you Bast.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Rafael,
why am I the only person eating yet the other ninety-nine places, have china, cutlery
and glasses?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"They
are for any guests that you want to join you."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
wished I had that many friends; my blog only has thirty-one followers so that's
out." My mind recalled the last book in my trilogy. I wrote a party scene
celebrating the capture of Bone Crusher, the King of the Pookas and the eight hundredth
birthday of the King of the Fairies of Ireland, King Lugus. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I'd be a hoot if they were here. </i>Purring
filled my mind and the seats began filling up around the table. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What have I done? </i>The sounds of gaiety
and unrestrained laughter filled my Sistine Chapel. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ink-Hearts read actions and they happened.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ink-Pen's words cause actions in another universe.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON—The Adventure of
Edwin D Ferretti III, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To be continued.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-26200601582970360862013-10-07T01:25:00.000-07:002013-10-07T01:25:54.705-07:00
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">Part seven<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
It was
5:15PM when I left Cynthia's house. My cell phone speed dialed the number that
the librarian, Cheryl Snide had given me. "...yes I'll be there at six
tomorrow night. Thank you." My mind was racing faster than my car; so many
questions needed to be answered before I visited the library. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Entering
the house I went to the living room and looked behind the couch. Lying on the
floor was a DVD; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that's what smacked me
on the head.</i> I reached down and picked it up. My eyes zoomed in on the
title, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ink Heart</i>. Memories stirred in
my psyche and my mind's light bulb flickered a little, I'd seen this movie before;
something about a book reader who was also called a silver-tongue. Clicking my
fingers together I remembered. He could read from a book and read out
characters of a story that appeared in his time. He could also read them back
into the book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
I sat
down on the couch. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If he could transport
book characters and objects from a story to his present time and was called Ink-Heart
the silver-tongue then what am I; Ink-Pen the golden writer?</i> Made some
insane sense and I liked it. Going to the kitchen I fixed two sandwiches,
grabbed a can of Cream Soda and bag of chips then returned to watch the movie. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An hour and a half later I was still hungry. I
washed the last Twinkie with a cup of coffee and thought about the movie.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Ink-Heart
read from a book and made it happen. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My
latest manuscript titled FIRE IN THE SKY was in my computer...I wonder. </i>Getting
up I walked to my desk and sat down. Scrolling down the pages I stopped at a
Chapter named <i><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Confrontation between Gods</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">. After scanning
the chapter I chose three small paragraphs and typed them on a blank page.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<st1:sn w:st="on"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><em>Zeus</em></span></st1:sn><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><em>’ eyes blazed with
fire as he hefted his lightning bolt over his shoulder.</em> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">'“STAY THY HAND!” The angry voice came from
nowhere and appeared everywhere. Zeus’ lightning bolt turned black and crumbled
to dust, falling to the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">'“I am the God of thy father and his father
before him. Heed my messenger’s words or I will cast you down to Tartarus and
its eternal damnation.'” The voice spread out toppling columns, sending them crashing
down to the darkness below. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">My hands flew to
my ears, the voice was deafening. Walls began to crack, pictures, books and
clocks flew into the air, crashing on the floor and chunks' of marble began falling
through the ceiling. I quickly erased the paragraphs; the actions stopped. Dust
and smoke disappeared out of the new gaps in the walls. A loud thunk sounded in
the room as I tossed a big hunk of marble from my couch. With my head in my
hands I reviewed what just happened; <i>I typed and it happened; how's that
possible? I gotta try this again.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Looking at the
blank page, I typed; "Bast, come here." A barely audible "plop"
sounded behind me and I spun around. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">"Meow!" Bast
immediately jumped on to the computer table and sniffed the screen. <i>She's
trying to tell me something. </i>My fingers suddenly connected with the
keyboard, words appeared; <i>Bast repaired everything in the house and returned
to Cynthia. </i>It became quite. I was once again in my house, my perfect
house; only it was larger, much larger. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Beauty is in the eye
of the beholder.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">If the beholder is a
book reader then it's magnified.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE
MEDALLION<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><strong>To be continued.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
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David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-38151786043131351302013-10-05T15:10:00.002-07:002013-10-05T15:10:55.450-07:00
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Darkside of the Medallion is now up on:</span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">http://www.amazon.com/</span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.thecopia.com/home/index.html%20"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">http://www.thecopia.com/home/index.html</span></a><span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><br />
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<a href="http://ibookstore.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">http://ibookstore.com</span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><br />
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<a href="https://ebookpie.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">https://ebookpie.com</span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.scribd.com/"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">http://www.scribd.com</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> (Scribd
has three chapters for you to read). </span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
</span><br />
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-71883753771500455872013-10-03T18:53:00.001-07:002013-10-10T21:47:06.302-07:00<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">Part six<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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I
don't remember doing it but my smart-phone appeared in my hand and I snapped a
picture of Cynthia and Bast; the moment captured for all time. Bast struggled
in Cynthia's arms trying to escape but Cynthia was having none of that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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"Cindy,"
she asked. I hunched my shoulders and shook my head. "Please come in and
tell me everything." </div>
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When
someone asks you to tell everything they either believe everything you say or
dismiss you as being crazy. I was betting on the latter. This time Cynthia
brought me to the kitchen; she pointed to an eight foot marble topped table and
I sat down on a comfortable stool. She placed Bast on the floor and the cat
made a beeline to her food bowls. </div>
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"I'd
better feed her or she'll be a pest during our conversation." </div>
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I
looked at Bast and thought—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why you little
devil, I just fed you. </i>Bast immediately hid in front of Cynthia almost as
if she read my mind. </div>
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Things
weren't adding up, the swirling colors, laughter, smack on the back of my head
and Cindy's diary pages moving to a critical page on their own. Then there was
the sudden appearance of Bast. I wanted answers and I needed them fast. Cynthia
returned and sat opposite me.</div>
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"Cindy
sent Bast through a portal, didn't she? It's her way of showing proof of
life."</div>
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"Cindy's
life?" She nodded in the affirmative. "I'd better start at the
beginning." I told her everything that happened since I returned home from
my first visit to her house. She only had one question.</div>
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"What
smacked you on the back of your head?" </div>
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"The
sudden appearance of Bast startled me so much that I forgot to look behind the
couch. The voices told me to see it. I'll look when I return home."
Changing the subject..."Is the portal in your father's study still
their?"</div>
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"I'm
not sure. Once we closed the Armoire<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>doors
and secured the room I never went back." She looked thoughtful. "I
wonder if that's how Cindy disappeared; through that damned gateway." </div>
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"I
think we should check to see if it's still active." I followed Cynthia out
of the kitchen to a narrow stairway leading upstairs. </div>
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"In
years past this was the servant's stairway for access to the upper
floors." Arriving at the top we turned right down a long corridor,
arriving at a locked room. Cynthia fumbled inside her pocked and produced a set
of keys. The room's description from Cindy's diary filled my view. Cynthia
remained by the doorway and pointed to a large Italian Armoire. I'll not enter
any further."</div>
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Standing
in front of the Armoire I sensed an eerie silence in the area. With nervous
fingers I opened the doors; the vortex reached out and began surrounding me;
pulling in to its blackness. Out of my peripheral vision I sensed a flash of
black then I was flung across the room. </div>
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The
wet cloth brought back feelings to my face; my eyes opened. Cindy, no I'm
confused, Cynthia smiled at me. </div>
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"Welcome
back to the land of the living. Let me help you sit up." Her hands felt
warm against my neck and shoulder. She placed a couple of pillows behind my
back and I felt human once again. </div>
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"What
happened to me? The portal; I remember now it almost had me then I was flying
across the room."</div>
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"Bast
saved you and closed the portal." I'd heard some strange words before but
those topped my list.</div>
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"Bast;
a cat, saved me? How's that possible? I remember seeing a black flash before being
shot out of a canon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Say, how did a cat
know how to shut down the portal?"</div>
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"Bast
told me." Boy was I wrong; those words towered over my strange word list.
Soft purring entered my mind and I collapsed back on the couch. </div>
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"I
believe you," I told her. "Bast is inside my mind too." A glass
of cold white wine pressed upon my lips; my mind cleared. "I believe in
portals, now I need to find out about this Ink-Pen magic that I'm supposed to
have." Cynthia smiled.</div>
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"There
is supposed to be fog tomorrow night." I smiled back.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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To
be continued</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Traveling in your mind—limited experience.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Letting a fantasy book take you to distant
galaxies—complete.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Available now at http://amazon.com and<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">www.thecopia.com</span> <o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-17982891465504560452013-09-30T22:25:00.003-07:002013-09-30T22:25:56.317-07:00
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">Part five<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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On the
drive home I couldn't shake the feeling that this task I'd been assigned wasn't
gona be a cake walk. The whole concept of portals to another world sounded
ridiculous. However, I'm a writer and have doors in my mind that I can open
with a thought; I imagined the possibilities and asked myself <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if</i> portals existed. The term Ink Pen
sounded familiar; I'd either read a book with a similar name or seen the
movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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After
securing the car for the night I went to my kitchen and warmed up a cup of my
favorite hot brew, grabbed two Twinkies from the shelf and went to the front
room. I turned on my ten-inch Teak reel-to-reel and set the volume low. The
sounds of the thirties and forties filled in the background. Sitting in my
chair with my feet on the coffee table I opened Cindy's diary.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
first page of the diary was dated a year before Cindy took the job of managing
the library. In two days time she and her sister were going to perform a newly
discovered sonata called süße Träume (Sweet Dreams), written for piano, violin,
two violas and a cello, by Beethoven. The yellowed newspaper clippings, glued
to the page, proclaimed the concert a success. After thirty minutes of reading
I realized that I was looking at Chattertown through her eyes. I skimmed ahead
until I reached a page written in bold red ink. The page screamed at me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Damn you father. How dare you treat Cynthia
and me as your personal slaves? I know it was you that caused mother to
disappear from our lives. </i>Some of<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>the
letters of the last sentence flowed down the paper; placing my fingers lightly on
the page, I experienced Cindy's tears falling from her face. My mood changed
from curious to sad. I entered a note into my tape recorder to ask Cynthia
about this page; the words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">slaves</i> and
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">disappearance of their mother</i>
bothered me. I stood and laid Cindy's diary on the coffee table. Something in
the kitchen was calling my name and I headed in that direction.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
I knew
what was in the cabinets; nothing nourishing. Checking the refrigerator I found
the makings for a ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come to think about it, I live out of my
refrigerator; no wonder I'm as skinny as a nail. I need a reason to get out
more. Cindy's image filled my mind. Pouring a tall glass of Ginger Ale I sat
down at the small table and had a stingy dinner. A ripe pear and blue cheese
filled in for desert.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A whistling noise drew my attention back to
the living room. Opening the kitchen door I stood in awe. A whirling collection
of colors filled my view, yet nothing of mine was flying around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soft giggling and laughter assaulted my ears.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is a happy thing, but what's it
doing in my house and who's laughing?</i> Something told me this was connected
with Cindy. Gathering my courage, I walked to my chair and sat down. Moving my
hand in front of me left a trail of colors; my mood swung from sad to happy.
The pages of the diary began to turn, stopping halfway through the book at
another page written in red ink. Something smacked me hard on the back of my
head and I heard a dull thud on the carpet behind me. My hands flew up and
covered my ears. Lilting voices filled my mind; "Read it and see it,"
they shouted. </div>
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<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Read
and see what," I shouted back. Raising my head I watched the colors vanish,
leaving me dazed and wondering what just happened. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Was Cindy showing me that portals exist? Read it must refer to her
diary. </i>With trembling fingers I set the diary on my lap, tilted it up and
began reading.</div>
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<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Two days ago Cynthia and I found father's
study door open. We couldn't find him anywhere so we both entered and looked
around. Books of magic covered every table and chair in the room. Hand drawn
charts were drawn on the painted walls and the ceiling depicted a series of
stars and planets that weren't in our galaxy. (See envelope in the back of the
book for pictures). An arrow pointed to a planet with three moons circling
around it. Above the arrow was written a word that froze my blood; Rachel, our
mother's name. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cindy and I looked everywhere for anything like
our fathers' diary, notes, and pictures but found none. Not only was he gone so
was everything that had any personal connection to his life.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cindy was the one who found it; inside the
large Victorian Armoire. Behind the doors was a swirling portal. I threw a book
into it and a second later it was gone from our sight. Gone where? I don't know
and this frightened me. We shut the doors and agreed never to open it again. We
were now alone, Cynthia, I and our black cat Bast. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
words chilled me. I felt their desperation and it consumed me.</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Meow!" The loud
cry scared me to death. My hands shook; the diary slipped from their grip.
Sitting in front of me was a black cat. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This
can't be Bast? If this is Bast how did she get here? </i>My mind was filled with
questions; questions that only Cynthia knew the answers to.</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Meow—purr." After
feeding the cat I carried her and the diary to the car and returned to Cynthia's house.
Honestly I thought my heart was gona jump out of my chest. The door open and
the cat walked into the home.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Bast!"
Cynthia scooped her up into her arms. I felt lightheaded. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This can't be happing to me.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Written words on paper—mean nothing if they
aren't complete. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">However, a good fantasy book tells the
whole story.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
To be continued.</div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-48879569356169428112013-09-26T23:23:00.000-07:002013-10-14T15:24:02.508-07:00<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">Part four.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Stepping
inside the house I walked back in time into the Victorian era. The long hallway
extended to a pair of glass doors leading to the back yard, two hundred feet
away. The paneled walls were done in light stained oak as was the arched
ceiling. Two sweeping staircases on both sides of the hallway led to the second
floor. Three chandeliers were evenly spaced down the hallway. Cynthia led me to
two large oaken doors and slid them apart. She stood aside as I entered into a
room that was twice the size of my home. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"This
is the sitting room. Cindy and I enjoyed many hours of reading books and playing music together. Did you know that she was a gifted
violinist?" I shook my head and she pointed to one of two large matching
settees. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
To my
right was a large fireplace and opposite that stood four glass-door book cases;
almost as tall as the eight foot ceiling. Behind the settee facing me stood a
full Grand Piano. A music stand stood next to the piano and on a chair rested a
violin case, waiting to be opened. The walls were covered with large oil
paintings and the ceiling had a reproduction of Michelangelo's The Creation of
Adam as seen in the Sistine Chappell,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>God's eyes moved as I stared at him. I blinked and looked again; God was
once again fixated on Adam's extended finger. Large pastel colored handmade
rugs covered the polished oak floors.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn't noticed Cynthia's absence until she
returned with a large silver tray filled with small sandwiches, salad, coffee,
cookies and china. She placed it on the round marble topped table in front of
the fireplace. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"You
look like a man who hasn't had a proper meal in decades; broad shoulders, tall
and handsome but skinny as a nail." She had me pegged to a tee. I grinned
and followed her pointing finger. The food was delicious and filling. We both
took our coffee black and sat together on the couch. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
don't believe that Cindy is dead. I think that she stepped through a time
portal and can't find the way back." I'd never heard words like that
before but my writer's mind quickly accepted the possible reality of it.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"What
do you base this theory on?" She stood and walked to a series of built in
drawers and returned with a black leather covered book.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"This
is Cindy's diary and in it she tells all. I have been waiting for someone to
read it and help me bring my sister back." She handed it to me.
"Please don't share this with anyone and return it once you've read
it." I agreed and opened the book. Page after page of delicate feminine
handwriting flowed across each page. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Why
me, and how did you know about my encounter with Cindy?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
She
smiled, "Vick is a personal friend and informs me of any new developments
about the disappearance of my sister. Besides Cindy often visits me and fills
me in on what's happing where she's trapped." She stood with fire in her
eyes. "It's all our father's fault that Cindy is gone," she yelled.
Then she collapsed on the settee, tears flowing down her face. I consoled her
as best that I could. I went to the fireplace and brought back several tissues.
They became soggy and I started to cram them inside a pocket when Cynthia's
hand grabbed mine. Her moist red eyes locked on my face.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Cindy chose you because she said that
you were a living Ink-pen." My eyes opened wide.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"An
Ink-pen, what did she mean?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"She
told me that you are gifted and once you connect with her anything that you
write about her will happen, but not on Earth. You have the talent to bring her
back with words!" <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bring her back
with words. </i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"If
the answers are inside her diary then I'll do everything in my power to help
her return. I want to meet her in the flesh." Cynthia smiled at me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"She
did tell me she liked you." My face blushed.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"The
next foggy night I will be locked inside the library. If she shows I'll learn all
about her situation." Cynthia smiled again and stood. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Thank
you Mr. Ferretti, time for you to get to work. Read the diary and make your own
decision about her fate."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"David,
please call me David. I'll begin reading it tonight." The heart-cadence
once again danced happily across my chest. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">"Amateurs sit and wait for
inspiration, <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">the rest of us just get up and go to
work." <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">
~ Stephen King<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
To
be continued.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-78293259837816965092013-09-24T23:05:00.001-07:002013-09-24T23:05:26.462-07:00
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">Part three.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
next morning I was up early, thinking about the three interviews and what their
connection could be. In a way I understood the library; after all it was her
life's work. But why return from the dead to stop her milk delivery and what
about her still wanting her black evening gown. A dull thud sounded on the
front door; the morning paper arrived.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Nuking
a cup of yesterday's mud...<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">himm...it was
identified by many names, java, mud, hot-brew, jamoke and even coffee. </i>I
sat in the front room and perused the paper. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What's this, another sighting of Cindy made the front page. </i>Her
picture occupied one quarter of the broad sheet. She was dressed almost
identical to Cheryl Snide, only her dress and shoes were forest green. Cindy's
hair was in a bun with slender ripples of hair falling down her cheeks; like a
Greek goddess. She looked like a lady who was happy and in charge of her life. A
prickling feeling caressed my body; her eyes were looking directly at me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
After
a quick read of the article I dismissed it as a publicity stunt. The longtime
local sisters, Stephanie and Marcie Cruthers, who reported seeing her, were
made up names. This was followed by more rubbish; Mrs. Stella Perkins had
Shelly Kyle and Thelma Thompson over for tea and cake. Farmer Hanks lost three
chickens to an unknown animal...the list went on. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
Sipping
my coffee I mulled over the three connections again, science fiction/fantasy/magic
books, milk and her dress. It made no sense to me. The weather section
predicted no fog for the next three days. I needed more information on Cindy
and decided to pay a visit to the town's records office; you know, birth
certificate, will, deeds to property; anything that could shed more light on
this mystery. With pen and a new notebook in hand I headed to the City Hall.
The answers I found added more confusion to my investigation.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
As
soon as I mention Cindy's name the clerk pointed to a table and returned with a
container containing all of her official documents. It was sad in a way; the carton
was the size of a cigar box. Inside I found copies of paperwork that defined
her life and supposed death. Cindy's birth certificate showed she was born in
Chattertown and she was twenty-three years old when she disappeared. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She is a year younger than I am</i>. I found
some local historians notes that said that her parents moved away shortly after
Cindy was hired to administer the library.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
I
stopped reading for a minute and took notes; Cindy's father was a world
renowned magician who went by the stage name of Dressa the Black. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Could this be the reason that Cindy was
looking for books on magic? </i>Another strange thing on her birth certificate
jumped out; her father was listed as John C. Crawl however, her mother was
Cynthia Spelling; the name had an asterisk next to it but nothing to reference
back to it. I jotted a note to myself to check out her mother. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The final
piece of paper that I looked at was her Last Will and Testament. She left
everything to her twin sister, Cynthia Spelling! Surely a mistake had been made
concerning her mother. Returning the documents to the clerk I asked, "Do
you have anything on Cynthia Spelling?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
clerk typed the name into her computer and hit the enter key. "You have a
very inquisitive mind Mr. Ferretti. You are the first person to ask—</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
computer screen locked onto the name. "Oh my," was all she said as
she turned the monitor in my direction. Cynthia Spelling was living in Cindy's
old house at 1239 Sycamore Drive. I quickly wrote down the address and thanked
the clerk. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hurrying home I entered the garage. Sitting in
the front seat of my 1985 corvette I typed the address into my Magellan.
Cynthia's house was five miles outside the town. My car roared to life and I
backed out of the garage. A few minutes later I took a right on Sycamore Drive.
Fruit trees lined both side of the drive; apples on the left and pears on the
right. I passed fields with cherries, plumbs and grapes then a lone house stood
out. Turning into the driveway I came to a halt by the large front porch. The
only thing that reminded me of a cul-de-sac was the driveway; it curved around
in front of the house and back to Sycamore Drive. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
house was three stories high in the early Victorian style; tall Greek columns
supported a screened in porch. The front door must have been eight feet tall. A
large Egyptian style door knocker announced my presence. I heard soft footsteps
approaching the door; for some strange reason my heart began to drum another
cadence on my chest. The door knob turned.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Hello
may I help you?" Her green eyes danced like a flickering flame. My mouth
opened wide...standing in front of me was Cindy...wearing a blue dress and
heels. "Yes, what can I do for you?" My mouth snapped shut.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Cindy?"
I said. Her face paled then brightened.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Cindy
was my sister. I'm Cynthia. Did you know my sister?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Only
by a chance encounter: outside of Vick's Cafe." She opened the door.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Please
come in Mr. Ferretti. We have a lot to discuss.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
To
stretch your imagination might hurt.</div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
To
read through someone else's minds-eye; painless. </div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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To
be continued.</div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-12400388340598968362013-09-21T02:13:00.003-07:002013-09-22T16:04:59.005-07:00<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>Part
two</strong>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Scroll down to read part one.</strong></span></div>
<br />
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
The
next day I visited the local newspaper and looked up articles concerning
Cindy's strange disappearance. I had to find out more, and my notebook was
beginning to fill up. She was last seen alive on a Thursday evening seven years
ago. Friday morning the library failed to open and the sheriff was contacted.
He put out a state alert then expanded it nationally. Cindy had simply vanished
along with her black cat called Bast. The secretary placed another file box
beside me. I noted the faded label, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Ghost of Cindy Crawl, keep the legend alive. </i></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Ya
see Mr. Ferretti, Cindy's disappearance and reported ghostly sightings are a
big tourist attraction around these parts." She smiled at me with a blasé
expression. An hour later I'd consumed the contents of the box; coming away
with three names of witnesses who reported they had seen and spoken to Cindy:
Phyllis Wheeler the local seamstress, Bill Cruthers the milk man and Cheryl
Snide, the town's new librarian. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
I
decided to talk to them in order of closeness. Phyllis' shop was on the corner
of Main Street and Victor Avenue, only two blocks from the newspaper office. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The door chime announced me as I entered the
sewing shop. Phyllis was in her mid forties, had a short build and walked with
a walking stick; result of an auto accident several years back. </div>
<br />
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"Good
morning David, I didn't know that you had anything that needed sewing, you
always look so dapper." I grinned at her and thanked her for the
compliment.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
would like to ask you some questions concerning your ghostly encounter with
Cindy Crawl."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I'd
be glad to answer your questions. How about some coffee and one of my famous
scones? We can talk in my office." I nodded my head and followed her to
the back of the store.</div>
<br />
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"Now
what is it that you want to ask me?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Would
you relate every detail that you can remember about your encounter? I can
record it on my tape recorder." I turned it on and placed it on the table.
</div>
<br />
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"Well
let me see...oh yes, it was three years ago this month and I was just closing
the shop when I heard the door open. Cindy was standing there in her red dress,
looking like a fashion queen. My mouth fell open then she spoke; not directly
to me, but I understood every word. "<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Is
my new black evening dress altered yet?"</i> She left it here to be taken
in you see. I asked her where she has been for the past four years but she
didn't answer. She turned and began to dissolve in front of the door. She spoke
one more time before vanishing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Don't
sell it; I'll be back for it someday."</i> I almost had a heart attack.
What do you suppose she meant by don't sell it; I'll be back..." I hunched
my shoulders.</div>
<br />
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"Is
that all that you can remember? What time was it in the evening?"</div>
<br />
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"The
same time every night, six PM. I do remember it was fogy like last night and
chilly when the wind blew." I picked up the tape recorder and turned it
off. </div>
<br />
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"Do
you still have the dress?" She walked to the back of the store and
returned with a black dress inside a protective plastic cover.</div>
<br />
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"After
my encounter with her I had the dress dry-cleaned and have it in the back. Just
in case mind you."</div>
<br />
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"Thank
you for your time."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Oh,
will I be in your next book?" I assured her that if I used the name Phyllis
that it would be her I was referring to. My next stop was at the local Milk
Factory behind the fire station. Bill Cruthers had delivered milk for as long
as he could remember. His father and grandfather were both in the milk delivery
business. His answers surprised me.</div>
<br />
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"Cindy
stood there in her red dress and I was dumfounded. She didn't answer any of my
questions concerning her disappearance, only wanted to tell me to stop
delivering her milk; said she'd be back someday and simply dissolved away into
thin air. It was a night like last night, foggy and cold." My head lifted,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">foggy and cold, like last night, that's
the second time I've heard that. </i>I thanked him and walked over to the
library. Cheryl Snide was in her mid thirties and dressed like the librarians
of the 30/40's. Long sleeved blouse, ruffles in front with buttons up to her
neck, brown skirt and Chelsea flats. A pair of large spectacles covered her
eyes. </div>
<br />
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"I
can't wait until your book comes out. Why, I've a list of readers a mile long
waiting to read it. Now what can I do for our towns famous author?"</div>
<br />
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"Would
you tell me of your encounter with Cindy Crawl?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I'd
be glad to...it's happened more than one you know. The first time scared me most
to death; I mean seeing someone you know just disappear in front of you eyes. After
she vanished I was called in to take over her duties. A year later the town
hired me full time. We're now in the computer age and we're the only library
for miles that checks out digital books to library members. Now where was I,
Cindy first appeared shortly after I took over, about six years ago. It was
late and I was shutting off the lights when I caught something out of the
corner of my eye. Cindy stood by the main door in a red dress, almost as if she
was going out on a date. I didn't know what to say or think; just stood staring
at her. She spoke... <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"How is my
library? Are there any new fantasy books; especially ones about the origin of
magic?" </i>I was dumfounded and at a loss of speech. My mouth moved but
nothing came out. Cindy asked the same questions a second time then I found my
voice. I assured her that we were ordering new books in all the time, told her
about you and the fantasy books that you were writing and she smiled then dissolved
away into thin air. Come to think about it, I see her every time there is fog
in the air. She was here last night and went to look at the fantasy and magical
occult books. I told her I was locking up for the night and she had charge of
her library. I swear, sometimes I have to pinch myself to see if it is really
happening." </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"What
you are saying is that every time there is fog in town, Cindy appears."
She nodded her head. "Would you permit me to stay past closing the next
time we have a foggy day?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Of
course," she reached over to her counter and retrieved her card.
"Call me when you want to come over and I'll lock you in. Of course you'll
have to remain the entire night because we have a burglar alarm connected to
the Sheriff's office." I nodded my head, thanked her and returned home. </div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
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Reading in the dark, is
not bright.</div>
<br />
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Reading under a light;
just right!</div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<strong>To
be continued.</strong></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-2289444937264992182013-09-19T01:25:00.000-07:002013-09-22T10:05:46.348-07:00<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 24pt; line-height: 200%;">SOON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 200%;">The Adventures of Edwin
D Ferretti, Author<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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It was
only four thirty in the evening and the fog lay heavy in Chattertown. I trudged
down Main Street headed for Vick's Cafe for a warm cup of coffee, and to
eavesdrop on conversations, dialects and character gestures. That's what I do.
I'm a writer and take my inspiration from the locals in this quaint southern
Tennessee town. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
A
figure lurched out of the grey vapor in front of me, we exchanged glances and
then he was gone. Jake Hammer. He was hammered all right probably got tossed
out of Pake's Bar and Grill and on his way home. Last week our local Sheriff,
Tom Cranston, found him in Tinker Bell Park, curled up on a bench. If he'd
taken a right instead of a left he would have walked into his front door. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
A cool
breeze pulsed down Main Street and I zipped up my jacked. And that's when I
caught a view that made my pulse beat faster; the bottom of a red dress
clinging tightly to a pair of legs sheathed in black that would turn a crazy
man sane. The fog hid the rest of her features and my mind went into overload
thinking of the possibilities. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who is
this amazing creature? Why haven't I seen her before or am I dreaming?</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Can I use her in my next book? </i>After
pinching myself I realized that the vision was real. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
My
heart drummed a loud cadence on my chest and I quickly sidestepped closer to
the storefronts; not wanting to share this experience with anyone. I stood on the corner
of Divine and Main . Vick's Cafe was on the opposite side of the street.
Stepping off the curb I heard a soft sexy voice ahead of me say—</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Soon,
how long is soon?" As I drew closer to the cafe gorgeous came into
view—wow! Long curly red hair tumbled down both sides of her face and back; her
deep green eyes sparkled and laughed at me. Tall and slender she was—with
curves in all the right places. The red dress was cut deep in the front
dropping down to her black stocking covered legs terminating in a sexy pair of
red heels. I immediately named it the Aphrodite dress; one that hinted
at and at the same time hid her sexuality. Her right arm raised and pointed at
me.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Soon,
how long is soon. I must know." Her voice sounded a thousand miles away.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Soon,"
I repeated.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"You
are Edwin D Ferretti the third, author of The Darkside of the Medallion, aren't
You?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Guilty
as charged." I answered. "What do you mean by soon?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
want a copy and all you say on your blog is it will be available soon." I
breathed a sigh of relief and managed a weak smile.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"The
book is at the publishers and they are converting it to different formats for
everyone who owns an eBook reader, computer, tablet or smart phone to be able
to enjoy it. Once they send me a proof copy and I approve it they'll send it to
Amazon and the other major book distributors. You know my name what's
yours?" She brushed off my question just as easy as swatting a fly off her
arm. </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Everything
you mentioned is oblong not curved. I live in a cul-de-sac. Will I never be
able to read you masterpiece?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cul-de-sac and curved </i>It made some weird
and wonderful sense to me. This woman was like a twisted sister, one that I
could spend eternity plus a day with. "If you own a computer you can order
it at Amazon dot com. If not, then after it's published I'll print off a copy
for you. She smiled, turned and vanished back into the fog. "Hey, what's
your name?" I yelled into the mist. I strained my ears but only heard a
dull cadence. With strength of mind I pushed open the door and entered Vick's
Bar. Vick walked up to me.</div>
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"Hi
David, are you all right?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"What
do you mean Vick?"</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
I was
looking out the window and saw you with your back to the door talking to the
fog." </div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I
was speaking to the most beautiful and sexy woman that I've ever seen."
Vick stopped for a minute then looked me in the face.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Long
red hair, red dress, black stockings and red heels." I nodded my head; the
drum in my chest beat faster.</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"What's
her name? I must meet her again."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"Her
name is Cindy Crawl. She was our local librarian. One day about seven years ago
she failed to show up for work. The Sheriff' looked for her for over a year
then placed her file in the cold case drawer. Several of our towns' people claimed
that they saw and spoke to her then she vanished before their eyes."</div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
"I'll
have a cup of your darkest coffee; something I need to think about. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cindy Crawl, I spoke to her then she
vanished. Where will this story lead me? </i>I took out my notebook and pencil
and began taking notes. </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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If I had known how
hard it was to edit my book,</div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
I would have done
that first, and then written it.</div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUv3GbrUJooynalDtyb55C4qtCHv16NVUHqYhcQysy56t_noAKOUusqawdKxK52pb6JFkznOTw1PmpzsrIIi-awIPIJMWYypQiDOqh-jAqqNzVTsZ3mh-OxprQVAzgo7UegArzy6WleI/s1600/Color+Master+RTF+THE+DARKSIDE+OF+THE+MED+-+Edwin+D+Ferretti+III_39.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUv3GbrUJooynalDtyb55C4qtCHv16NVUHqYhcQysy56t_noAKOUusqawdKxK52pb6JFkznOTw1PmpzsrIIi-awIPIJMWYypQiDOqh-jAqqNzVTsZ3mh-OxprQVAzgo7UegArzy6WleI/s1600/Color+Master+RTF+THE+DARKSIDE+OF+THE+MED+-+Edwin+D+Ferretti+III_39.jpeg" /></a></div>
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To be continued.<br />
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David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-66155628608308788532013-09-15T18:48:00.000-07:002013-09-15T18:48:21.711-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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To creep into the unknown; scary!</div>
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To let a fantasy book take you there; smart.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE
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David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-17983276509256003032013-09-14T02:08:00.005-07:002013-09-14T02:19:32.017-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
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To sit beneath a tree with nothing to do is lazy.</div>
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To read a good book beneath a tree's shade, heavenly.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THE DARKSIDE OF THE
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David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-25971360154793834562013-09-10T20:51:00.001-07:002013-09-11T17:06:13.586-07:00THE INTRICACIES OF THE WRITER'S MIND<div align="center">
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">To publish a single word is absurd. </span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">To write a book that people enjoy, pure genius.</span></strong> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">THE INTRICACIES OF THE WRITER'S MIND</span></h2>
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<strong>Edwin D Ferretti III</strong></div>
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"Man consists of body, mind and imagination. His body is faulty, his mind untrustworthy, but his imagination has made him remarkable."</div>
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John Masefield (1874-1967), English writer.</div>
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No matter what genre you write on paper all writers' boast a common bond; a creative mind that's overflowing with amazing and fanciful stories. Our mind can store and retrieve information such as when we answer a test question or remember a birthday. Non-writers don't question this ability; as long as they have a mental input that they can draw on and retrieve when needed.</div>
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A writer's mind is different and contains doors that a normal person wouldn't think to knock on. Writers not only knock they force open those doors to answer questions such as<strong> </strong><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><strong>what if</strong>. </i>As we begin to write a story, we discover that these doors, once opened never close. Like Rod Sterling's Twilight Zone series, writers can draw on and use their conceived story<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>of sight, sound<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> and <strong>imagination</strong> </i>to take their readers on a journey and let them engage in action/adventure in the distant future or mingle with Cleopatra in the past. </div>
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What is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">imagination</i> from a writer's perspective? I could give you a dictionary answer: Ability to visualize (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if</i>), the creative part of the mind (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if and inventive</i>), individual resourcefulness or creative acts that take <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if</i> and bring your story alive, real and believable for your readers. My answer would include all the above and more. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Imagination allows us to experience the future, peek into the past or travel light-years to a distant planet with an alien presence. For me, this process begins with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if</i> I could...or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if</i> my protagonist did this. In the above paragraphs, we have the beginnings of a writer's special tool kit. I say special because this tool kit doesn't contain a computer, books on writing, paper, pencils or writing groups/friends. It contains our working mind, a lot of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what ifs</i> and an audacious <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">imagination</i>. Proper use of these basic resources let us open the physical tool kit and begin writing our story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Writers use their mind to conceptualize a great story, one that their readers can't put down until the last word is absorbed into their own minds. Have you ever asked yourself why readers gravitate toward <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">several different</i> science fiction/fantasy authors, instead of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any</i> science fiction/fantasy author? Why don't they just close their eyes, grab a book off the SiFi/Fantasy shelf and read it? My mind asked me that very same question a few years ago. I realized that I didn't have an overabundance of correct answers. I harbored the common conceptions after reading the first chapter; the plot was to slow (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boring</i>), to many points of view (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">confusing</i>), scenes were disjointed/jerky or just unbelievable and poor use of dialogue. On the other hand, the authors that I liked to read rated these comments: this author knows how to move his or her or her story along with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if/imaginative</i> action-filled scenes, or I like the way this author's characters interacted with each other pushing the story toward an unforgettable ending. My favorite is, the story line allowed me to exit my reality and enter the world created by the author, sympathize with the main characters and dream of being a hero. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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The question you should ask yourself is how can <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if and imagination</i> help you construct an overwhelming story. The answer is simple; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if</i> opens the door to unlimited possibilities, and imagination allows you to explore new and creative ways to design your story. </div>
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Here is an example of what I'm writing about. Suppose an author (a-hum) asks, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if</i> there is a fifth dimension, and then incorporates it into his story. </div>
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A fifth dimension, a normal/non-writer might ask. I only know of three dimensions, width, length and height. Where did the fourth dimension spring from...much less a fifth one; this is unbelievable? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Remember what I said above about the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if</i> question opening a door where your imagination can take over. Doing a little research our author discovered that some scientists speculate that in addition to the three dimensions listed above a fourth dimension exists that is a mirror image of our reality. A light bulb illuminates in our writer's mind. Our intrepid author walks boldly through the unlocked door—and suddenly realizes if a mirror image of our reality exists, then there must be a greater force that prevents this fourth dimension from becoming our reality. Taking this a step further, our brave author explores more of the room that he unlocked and asks another question. What can I do with the dimension that I have dreamed up to enhance my story? A voice enters his mind...<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don't enter the fourth dimension because you'll break the universe; use the fifth dimension as a faster way to teleport to a specific destination. </i>I frequently hear voices urging my protagonist in different directions. Does this mean that I'm crazy, nah? It means that my imagination is working. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I've talked about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what if and imagination</i> and ask you, does that mean that the intricacies of the writer's mind are always moving your story along? Are there roadblocks to this imaginative thought process? Some of you will answer yes and others no. What about writers block some might ask; that interrupts my writing. This I'll discuss in my next post.</div>
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<o:p> <strong>THE DARKSIDE OF THE MEDALLION</strong></o:p></div>
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David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-26212510033121913092012-04-07T11:58:00.000-07:002012-04-07T11:58:10.475-07:00Happy Easter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I want to wish all of you a Happy Easter. No matter how you chose to observe it Easter brings families and friends together to celebrate a rebirth that occurred many years ago. Easter also provides us an opportunity to taste family traditions at the dinner table. Maybe it’s your grandmother’s favorite desert of mothers famous honey baked ham. My mother baked a ham for that dinner. She would slice a diamond pattern across the outside of the ham and my job was to stick a clove into each diamond shape. When I was done, it reminded me of a porcupine. I remember the wonderful smells and laughter around the dining table. Tomorrow I’ll celebrate this wonderful time with my son and his family and his in-laws. </div>
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As we say in Italian, Buona Pasqua.<br />
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</div>David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-7872010721022348472012-03-24T02:40:00.016-07:002012-04-12T22:51:57.114-07:00Having Fun With GIMP or What Keeps Me Motivated<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With the completion of my first book, <b>The Dark Side Of The Medallion</b>, I decided to learn more of the intricacies of the photo-editing program called <b>GIMP</b>. More specifically, I wanted to make my own book cover. <br />
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One of my Christmas gifts last year came from my daughter. It was the GIMP Bible. I believe that in the past two months I visited every one of its 722 pages...Yikes. As with any powerful program, if you don’t keep up with it you soon forget how it works. I came up with a germ of an idea for a book cover. I wanted a picture of Jen, my protagonist, Bast the magical cat that protects and helps Jen and Seth, the antagonist. Sounds simple yet it proved difficult to execute. Not that I couldn’t draw the objects that I wanted no it was too busy on the book cover. I needed something simpler and at the same time something that forced the reader/buyer to pick my book up and open the cover to discover what lurks inside.<br />
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For those of you that use Photoshop you’ll know what I mean when I tell you that learning how to use GIMP is a steep learning curve. I tried literally a hundred times to make a book cover until I began to realize that some of my efforts were beginning to pay off. I could not afford the asking price of Photoshop. GIMP on the other hand is a free open-source photo editor with many great bells and whistles. <br />
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Last night I managed to finish my first attempt at a book cover. I still have some tweaking to get it where I want it. The good news is that I can now make this cover in less than a half hour of my time. <br />
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Seeing this first completed cover is one of the things that motivate me to continue my writing journey. I am researching a different font for this cover and might rescale the image of Bast to a slightly larger size. I also want to add a line somewhere letting the reader know that this is book one of my trilogy. <br />
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I would love to hear from anyone who is designing his/her own book cover. Keep your pens moving and words flowing. <br />
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<br /></div>David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-48225255810169576302012-03-16T01:00:00.000-07:002012-03-16T01:20:36.106-07:00Happy Saint Patrick's DayHappy Saint Patrick’s Day to ye. With the wearing of the Green-Day approaching, I thought it appropriate to introduce you to an unexpected ally that “pops” into Jen’s reality as she and her BBF struggle against the ancient Egyptian god, Seth and his battle to take over as the supreme deity. This is from the second book of <b>The Dark Side of the Medallion Trilogy </b>titled <b>QUEST</b>. My three protagonists, Jen, Cheryl and Sally, have finished another round of fighting and Jen wanders into the reading room to think through this latest battle. <br />
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A “pop” and “oomph” resonated in the reading room breaking her train of thought. Jen swiveled her head left and right, looking for the source of the racket. <br />
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“Ay, begorra…me poor ol’ head.” A shuffling sound occurred behind Jen. “Clancy, are ye about? Of course ye ain’t—and him being invisible and all—at a time like this.” <br />
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Jen cautiously leaned her head over the back of her chair. The comical sight that was sprawled on the floor brought both relief and puzzlement. “If I didn’t know better I’d accuse you of being a leprechaun.” <br />
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Before her was an old man no taller than three and a half feet tall. His suit and hat were forest green and he wore a bright red waistcoat. A long grey beard hung down to his waist and large gold buckles sparkled at her when his black boots moved. A thin leather strap swept over his right shoulder and across his chest leading to a bag on his left side. <br />
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The small man scrambled to his feet, removed his hat and bowed to Jen. “I am sorry…I-I-I intruded into your…ay begorra…where are I?” His hands grabbed his head and shook it side to side. <br />
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Jen nodded her head and looked around the room. “What’s your name, my fine young fellow?” <br />
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The little man grinned and again removed his hat and bowed. “I be Michaleen O’Lugh, at ye service.” <br />
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“Who’s Clancy and where is he? <br />
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“Ay, me good friend is a grogoch. Strait from Donegal he is. He be a wee bit shy and remains hidden. If ye have a small amount of cream,” holding his hand up his thumb and forefinger displayed a quarter inch between them, “we can call him forth.” Jen connected and returned with a glass of cream. <br />
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“Tis mighty impressive ma lady. Now hold the cream high above ya.” <br />
With a perplexed look, Jen raised the glass above her head. Suddenly it took on a life of its own and flew from her grip and she heard slurping and licking sounds. The empty glass landed on the floor in front of Jen’s feet. “Clancy thanks ya.” Michaleen leaned down, picked up the empty container and handed it back to Jen. His hand drifted into his small pouch and soon an accumulation of personal stuff piled high on the floor. Clothing, new shiny boots, cobbler’s tools, pieces of leather, an Irish harp, tin whistles, a fiddle, pipe and tobacco…the list continued. Jen’s eyebrows arched as she watched each new item appear. Michaleen’s arm dipped deep into his sack. <br />
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Jen lowered her view looking at the bottom of the pouch. <br />
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Finally, with a grunt Michaleen pulled out a rather large whiskey jug. Sitting down he wrapped his legs around the jug and pulled the cork out. “Woe be me, not a drop remains—and me with such a terrible thirst.” He raised his head and looked at Jen. “Can ye spare a wee drop to put out me dreadful dryness?” <br />
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Jen connected and returned dressed as Isis. She held out a glass full of the nectar of the gods. Michaleen accepted the drink and sucked it dry in a single gulp. His head rose and he looked at Jen, “Ay, begorra—”<br />
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“Watch your language, Michaleen O’Lugh.”<br />
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Michaleen’s face reddened and he stood straight up. “As I were saying befer I was rudely interrupted,” he swayed on his feet and almost lost his balance bowing, “I’m honored to meet ya, Isis.” He held his empty glass up. “Tis the finest Irish whiskey I’ve ever tasted.” <br />
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Jen smiled. “Come join me on the seat and tell me who you are and what you and Clancy are doing here.” Jen turned around in her chair and was surprised to see Michaleen sitting opposite her. She swung around quickly and looked at the empty floor behind her chair. Shaking her head, she asked, “Michaleen, how come I can leave your view and when I return you’re still here? I thought all leprechauns, once seen by a human, thought only of escape?”<br />
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A disembodied voice spoke into Jen’s left ear. “That’s only true if you have a crock of gold to guard.” Jen made a yucky face as an unpleasant body odor surrounded her.<br />
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Michaleen’s hands covered his ears. “Clancy stoptar do bhéal mór.”<br />
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“No, let him speak. However, not close to me. This sounds interesting and I want to hear it all.” Jen said. <i>Sally, Cheryl; this is Isis speaking. Are you awake? </i><br />
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<i>Only if it doesn’t involve another battle,</i> Cheryl grumbled. <br />
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<i>What she said,</i> Sally added.<br />
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<i>Meet me in the reading room. I think you would enjoy this. Oh, and please bring a pitcher of cream. </i><br />
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Jen waved her hand and a decanter filled with Zeus’s tail appeared. “Michaleen, would you be joining me for another drink?” <br />
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Cheryl arrived next to Jen, slammed into something that let out a “Plá ar do theach” and she and the pitcher of cream went flying. Cheryl landed with a thud; the cream carafe disappeared in mid air. Standing up Cheryl brushed her hands together then straightened out her dress. “Yuck, what’s that stench surrounding me?”<br />
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Michaleen moved from his chair, picked the empty container up from the floor, and handed it back to Cheryl. Removing his hat, he bowed. “Clancy thanks ya.” <br />
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“Yikes!” exploded from Cheryl’s mouth. “A talking shrimp!”<br />
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Watching Cheryl’s antics, Jen almost lost it. “Where?” Jen bit her tongue and spun around in another direction.<br />
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“In front of me you numbskull.” <br />
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Sally arrived next to Michaleen, looked down and jumped back several feet before closing her mouth. The carton of cream she held slipped and fell to the—it disappeared from sight. A large belch sounded close to her ear and she reached up pinching her nose shut. “What the devil!” muffled out of her mouth. Sally’s head swiveled around looking for the cream. <br />
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Jen collapsed into her chair, tears of laughter streaming down her face. Looking at her two BFF, “I haven’t had this much fun,” catching her breath, “since I visited Disney Land when I was six.” “I would like to introduce both of you to Michaleen O’Lugh, a leprechaun from Erin and his friend Clancy a grogoch from Donegal.” <br />
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Michaleen removed his hat and bowed to both women. “I am pleased to meet ya.” Cheryl and Sally introduced themselves and took seats on either side of Jen.<br />
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Sally turned toward Jen, “Well that explains one of the oddities in this room,” she glared at her BFF, “now where did that stink come from?”<br />
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“Yah and what’s a grogoch?” Cheryl asked.<br />
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Jen turned toward Michaleen, “You’d better explain this one for me. No need to bow…if ye please.”<br />
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A smile spread across Michaleen’s face. “A grogoch is a sidhe or Irish fairy. He’s about my size and wears only a thick covering of long hair.” He looked at the three women. “I’m sorry for the discomfort ye experience when he is close…he…well, he don’t like water. He does have a good side. Clancy will help you out of a jam if you call his name. He is also able to survive in extreme cold or heat. If he likes ya, he will show himself. Oh yes, he loves cream.” Jen thanked him and Michaleen sat down.<br />
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“Michaleen was going to relate the story of why he doesn't have a pot gold to guard and I though both of you would kick me if I let you sleep.” Jen smiled at her friends. <br />
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Michaleen’s head lowered and he spoke to the floor. “Tis a sad and dark tale I relate. Several years ago I celebrated me four hundredth birthday and me father gave me a pot o’ gold for me to guard. Oh fur sure it was the proudest day in me life and the music and dancing continued for several days.”<br />
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“As did the drinking,” Clancy interrupted. Michaleen’s face turned red and he continued.<br />
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“Returning home with me pot o’ gold I discovered a magnificent horse in me stalls. All black and powerful was he with his silky elegant mane and glowing golden eyes. I put the pot o’ gold on the ground and went to inspect this latest birthday surprise. No sooner did I touch the animal that he disappeared. Turning around I discovered to me horror that me pot o’ gold was also gone. I was deceived by the worst of the Irish fairies—the pooka. The pooka is a short, disfigured goblin that is always up to no good.” Michaleen stood, spit on the floor and stomped his foot on top of the saliva. Pulling himself up to his full height, he continued. “Me father,” he spit again on the floor, “banished me from his hall underneath Mount Errigal and—“ <br />
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“Lugus,” Clancy’s voice boomed. “Respect thy father Michaleen O’Lugh; after all he is the High King of Erin.” <br />
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Jen figured she could have dropped an egg on Michaleen’s head and it would have sizzled.Jen offered the decanter of Zeus’s Tail to Michaleen and he filled his glass; downing its contents in a single swig. Shaking his head, he composed himself.<br />
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“Clancy me good man don’t ye have something better to do like watch out for the cóiste badhar? As I was saying, me fine father, King Lugus can be a nasty little man. He is the king of war and knows all the dirty tricks that win battles against his enemies. He is…how can I put this delicately…not used to dealing with his own family members in a friendly way. He banished me to wander aimlessly until I finds me pot o’ gold. Clancy is me only friend and he agreed to accompany me on my travels. Woe be me, I am flummoxed and know not what to do.”<br />
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“Sheese, that’s quite a story,” Jen said. “Is a pooka a shape-shifter?”<br />
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“Yes he can assume any shape he fancies. His favorite is a dark horse.” <br />
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Jen leaned toward Sally and Cheryl and arms flew through the air as they conversed. Jen smiled at Michaleen. “Michaleen, after our war against Seth is finished we’ll help you find the missing pot of gold.” <br />
A smile filled his face and tears ran down his face. “I thank ye Isis. Might we,” his arm pointed to an empty place in the room, “help you in this conflict?”<br />
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“Possible but first I will give you a room to live in and you must promise me that you will introduce your friend to a bath. He stinks. What is a cóiste badhar?”<br />
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“The cóiste badhar is also known as the coach-a-bower meaning deathly or silent coach. Driven by a dullahan—a headless equestrian—who carries his head in his right hand so he can see his way. He commands six wild black horses to collect the souls of the ones about to die in an accident or those that are gasping their last on their deathbed. The only defense against him is a piece of gold and Clancy and I have none.”<br />
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“Yes, ye dear father took all our gold and set the dullahan on our trail; may he live forever.” Clancy added. Jen heard two spitting sounds then the noise of hands slapping against each other. <br />
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“Thanks ya Clancy for that wee bit of information.” Michaleen looked at Jen. “Clancy likes ya and after he cleans up he will let you see him.” Jen smiled.<br />
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“You asked where you’re at. Both of you are inside a military city on a planet called Pelta. Currently we’re at war against Seth and an alien race called the Swthshee. We’ll keep you safe from the dullahan and the cóiste badhar.<br />
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A loud poof sounded in the room and Michaleen appeared dressed in a suite of armor banishing his sword and shield. "Seth, tá a fhios againn go maith air. Tá sé olc agus trickster salach.” Jen’s eyebrows arched. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMVpaeY8QySZoSEcx1Bu_oeaL6XVjSOfywk4UcFJxbTxrmNNDiUUJTTWmGCT1u5VAZ5wWNr1TU-4zISC4a8zAFeDQ1pVtlXuGX4MQmnt0NIJDHJRKrZahYTFeX1nMczUSPsf5W-dmIGY/s1600/Leprechauns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMVpaeY8QySZoSEcx1Bu_oeaL6XVjSOfywk4UcFJxbTxrmNNDiUUJTTWmGCT1u5VAZ5wWNr1TU-4zISC4a8zAFeDQ1pVtlXuGX4MQmnt0NIJDHJRKrZahYTFeX1nMczUSPsf5W-dmIGY/s1600/Leprechauns.jpg" /></a></div>Happy Saint Patrick's Day.David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-51625658579057002822012-02-26T22:51:00.000-08:002012-02-26T22:51:27.925-08:00Cliffhangers as Chapter Endings, Good or Bad?<br />
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Authors often employ different writing techniques to make his or her readers eager to turn to the next page in their book. A cliffhanger at the end of a chapter is one method that authors make use of—to keep their readers engaged in their story’s plot and characters—forcing them to turn pages. We refer to these types of novels as page-turners.<br />
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Would you be surprised if I told you that this writing practice was popular during the age of Queen Victoria? One of the progressive ideas to come from this age sprang between a monthly magazine and an author. Short story author like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's fictional detective Sherlock Holmes, you ask. No, I am talking about a completed novel not stand alone short stories. The magazine published sections of a novel one chapter at a time. Thomas Hardy is given credit for being the first to add a cliffhanger to the end of each of his published chapters. You see he needed a gimmick to keep his readers wanting more, thus ensuring a monthly paycheck from his publisher. Hey, that’s something that we all want; only now we call it royalties. <br />
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The question that I’m asking today is do you use cliffhangers in your own manuscripts/books and if so, are they found at the end of each chapter?<br />
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<br />David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-12795941738159577502012-02-12T10:00:00.000-08:002012-02-12T10:00:20.442-08:00What can I say? I’ve been busy these past few months. I’m back!<br />
Th<b>e big dog roundup:</b> Some of you know that for years I’ve been helping take care of and adopt out abandoned animals. No one pays me for this and I’ve lost thousands of dollars in caring for, feeding and occasionally paying medical bills. My personal motto is that I’ll never let an animal starve or be in need of medical care. <br />
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Two months ago, I discovered a few puppies running around near my barn. I left food and water for them. By the end of the week, I had ten puppies eager to please me. Two weeks later, I had seventeen puppies running around and eating (from two litters). I already had six six-month old dogs from a litter of eight. Add to this menagerie, my own two dogs; and I was feeding twenty-five animals. Yikes! Enter and angle into my life. <br />
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The local Chappell Nebraska Animal Control Officer, Terry, called me one day and asked how I was doing. I related my tale of woe and she promised to think about a solution. A week later, she called back with a plan to adopt all of the dogs out. Through her contacts, she found a place in Wyoming willing to take on all of the puppies and six-month old dogs. She brought over material to build a large enclosure with a gate. I set up their food bowls and water inside along with several cages. It took two weeks to capture all of the larger dogs and another day to pick up fifteen of the puppies. I brought them all to Terry’s house and placed them in her cages. The puppies were immediately taken to Scottsbluff Nebraska and last week Terry called and informed me that all of them were adopted out. <br />
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The older dogs are being spaded and neutered, given shots and wormed. Several of them have loving homes and one of them is learning how to heard sheep. I couldn’t be happier. The other benefit is that all four of my dogs are going to be spaded and neutered, shots…isn’t life grand.<br />
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<b>Class is in session:</b> I’ve always wanted to take an accredited course in reading, writing ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphs. I signed up for a free course on the internet. This takes me about two or three hours each day and I spend another two-three hours writing the ending of my second book. <br />
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During this time, I’ve neglected my blog and now that I am working on time management (and have only a few dogs to tend to); I find that I can once again write a blog-post twice a week. <br />
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It’s nice to be back. <br />
<br />David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-88724138999698247622011-12-24T11:52:00.000-08:002011-12-24T11:56:48.840-08:00How do you Celebrate Christmas?<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/BEJmP8T07JU" width="420"></iframe><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>THE TRUE MEANING OF CELEBRATING CHRISTMAS</strong></div><br />
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Have you ever thought about the true meaning of Christmas and why we celebrate it? Is it exchanging gifts or spending time with your family and friends or is it a holy time of remembrance and adoration? Some would say it’s all of the above. I’m guessing that it has to be more than decorating a Christmas tree or waiting for Santa to drop down the chimney with his bag of presents. For me it’s a time of memories from all of the Christmases of my past. Kind of like when the ghost of Christmas Past took Scrooge on a trip down memory lane. <br />
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I remember the long hours my mother spent placing lights and ornaments on our Christmas trees. Then she hung lead tinsel, one strip at a time, on every tree branch. It looked gorgeous. She often reminded me that God sees the entire tree and that meant that the back of the tree should look as beautiful as the front. This put a lot of pressure on me because it was my job to decorate [wait for it] the back of the tree. I believe that I was seven when I first picked up that task. Funny how some things stay with you...I can still hear my mother telling me about the side of the tree less seen. To this day, I take the same care decorating every side of my trees. <br />
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My father would help “proof” (his words) the eggnog. We had two different eggnogs, one for me and one that I wasn’t allowed to touch. In those days, eggnog was made from scratch, not bought in a wax-impregnated carton. It was thick and we put real whipped cream on top. Funny, I remember that the more they drank their “special” eggnog the happier they became. I also fondly remember playing with my American Flyer train set until mother made me go to bed.<br />
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</div>However, back to my original question; why do we celebrate Christmas? Did you know that the earliest records mention a feast held in the Church at Alexandria, Egypt, around AD 200, to honor the Nativity? The celebration of Christmas did not become a church-wide celebration until the late third and early fourth centuries. It took many hundreds of years before the Western Church’s decided on 25 December to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. It’s funny how an event that took place thousands of years ago has made such a strong impact on our daily lives. Gift giving harkens back to the Three Wise Men who brought gifts to a baby in a manger. Did they receive something in return…you bet they did…a blessing from God that they took back to their people and spread the news that Christ the Savior was born. We do the same thing when we exchange presents with loved ones or do a kindness to a total stranger. <br />
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I want to wish each of you a MERRY CHRISTMAS and a HAPPY NEW YEAR. <br />
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I will begin blogging about my writing journey after New Years. I have been hard at work on book two of my trilogy and it is almost finished. I am excited to start writing the final book because I have several more stories that I want to pen.<br />
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Now for some fun. If you want to track Santa’s location as he circles the earth check out this NORAD site. It’ll keep you and your children up-to-date on his <a href="http://www.noradsanta.org/en">location</a>. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><strong>MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizM3eYjKzcQnX5Xr9yXzfRmUT-p9LsFsw1zED146hbp2QxJO05OkSQqFWtBT_v5Kgxrw5znrFAhTd4lEtcLTjnOp9bZo8bWfSq0xUTWStfXfpfL8LZsO35hirvuWwiWSOwj4GKnRaKun8/s1600/007A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizM3eYjKzcQnX5Xr9yXzfRmUT-p9LsFsw1zED146hbp2QxJO05OkSQqFWtBT_v5Kgxrw5znrFAhTd4lEtcLTjnOp9bZo8bWfSq0xUTWStfXfpfL8LZsO35hirvuWwiWSOwj4GKnRaKun8/s1600/007A.jpg" /></a></div>David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-577414194057545062.post-24294755597831727252011-08-21T12:50:00.000-07:002011-09-18T13:40:30.511-07:00The Find Dialogue Box and your writing<br />
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A month ago, I used my word processor's “find and replace” dialogue box to add a period after every instance of the abbreviation, Dr. It was simple task and I thought that I had a handle on it. Then I saw the results—452 instances were found in my manuscript—and changed! Oops!<br />
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After mouthing the number “four hundred and fifty-two,” several times, I checked on the results. Using the “Find dialogue box I typed in Dr. And hit the search button. It did correct the word Dr, changing it to Dr. It also added “Dr.” to every word that had a “dr” in it such as drink (Dr.ink), drying (Dr.ying) and hundred (hunDr.ed). You guessed it; I had to go back and manually change each error. <br />
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After researching this problem on the internet, I found out that Microsoft Word 2007 (my word processor) has an expanded menu that prevents this type of mistake. Below is the “Find and Replace” dialogue box.<br />
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Look at the bottom left and see the “More>>” button. When you click it, the box expands. It is set up correctly to find and replace Dr with Dr. However it will also replace every instance of Dr or dr with Dr. Pressing the more button opens up a menus (see below). <br />
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Placing a check mark next to “Find whole words only” will save your sanity and replace only Dr with Dr. Isn’t computing fun.David Ferretti IIIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08077205988316403994noreply@blogger.com0