An Amazing Tale, The Wolf, by Author Amanda Grihm

He started coming around about thirteen years ago. Our first encounter took place in a dream. I was lost, sitting on the ground in the middle of the woods.  I marveled at the uninhibited wildlife and for the first time in my life I didn’t envy the freedom others seemed to enjoy so much, and I longed to experience. 

I looked into the dense mass of trees and watched the animals play. I saw birds singing, lighting and flitting from one branch to another.  There were nests with baby birds waiting to be fed by their mothers and spider webs that glistened from the touch of a ray of sunlight. 

The webs were larger than any I’d ever seen before yet they were intricately and delicately crafted. They were so magnificent you would have thought that only a master artist could have imagined and brought to life such beautiful designs.  With an overwhelming feeling of comfort and great satisfaction I nestled into the ground and lay bare on the long, wet blades of grass.  The grass was so tall it almost covered my body.  It was still wet from the morning dew yet its blades were sharp and cutting.  

Still, to the animals that occupied the plain it was comforting and restful. In that moment, I became more aware of the artistry and beauty of an untouched nature. My surroundings were both provocative and soothing. Everything had a meaning and a specific purpose…even the dead carcasses that lay decaying on the ground. They would fertilize and feed the earth so the plants and trees would grow healthy and strong and all the animals of the world would have the vital foods they need to exist. I thought long and hard about life and how everything came to be. I realized the hands of God had beautifully crafted the scenery and everything in it…including me. 

Everything was pure, clean, and unharmed by the effects of man.  A feeling of dread and alarm raced through me for an instant. I sat upright; perfectly still, unsure of whether I was capable of moving or what I should have been doing at that moment. I looked at the lower part of my body but I wasn’t sure of what I was seeing.  I can only assume now what I saw were my legs.  I was cold and an overwhelming weakness saturated my lower body.  It was numb and didn’t feel like it was a part of me. 

I looked up at the sky and, again, for a moment, I got caught up in the beauty and freedom of the life forms around me.  The insects and birds flying through the air, large and small animals, and what seemed to be millions of microbiotic organisms moving through the grassy plain captivated me. The trees were alive and waving in the warm, soft breeze that blew over me.  I felt the life-giving energy of the sun as it gently warmed and caressed me.  The birds circled the sky and whistled soothing sounds that made me feel rested and comfortable.

The invasive steps of an intruder rudely interrupted the sounds of nature - the birds singing, the wind blowing and the numerous sounds made by the animals in the wooded area.  And, even though the dew moistened the grass I heard crackling sounds, twigs snapping and leaves being crushed. The birds screamed out warnings of the intruder and flew away in flocks. There were so many birds they created a dark blanket across the sky as they moved away. 

Still I sat there. A strange feeling, a combination of calm, fear and strength came over me and I listened attentively for any sound that was not a natural part of my environment.  Directed by my sense of smell I turned and looked to the south in the direction of the dense trees.  I sat perfectly still and waited for the intruder to emerge and come to me. I relaxed my body and lay flat with my face next to the ground and studied the shadows. All but one was familiar.  

It was as tall as the trees but it was not still like the trees. It moved … and it was moving toward me.  The closer it got to me the smaller it grew in size.  It was the shadow of a man, a tall, thin man who suddenly was standing in front of me.  

This man stood as rigid as a tree, looking down on me and grinning with every tooth in his mouth showing.  His teeth were small, jagged at the edges and somewhat malformed.  They were bright yellow and muted green with big splotches of brown on some of them.  Many of them were chipped and ragged but they shined and glistened like they had been polished.  

The stranger stood in front of me for a long time before he said or did anything.  After what seemed to be eternity he sat down next to me.  Still, he didn’t say a word.  Tears streamed down my face without warning and uncontrollably.   I was not afraid but I knew I was in danger.   The man looked into my eyes and smiled even harder than before.  He smiled so hard the edges of his mouth stretched taunt from one end of his face to the other.  He slowly and ceremoniously twisted and squeezed both of his hands together and held them in front of my face.  He acted as though the movement of his fingers and hands was supposed to mean something to me.   He twisted the fingers of his left hand around his right, squeezing all of his fingers down except the one he used to point at me.   He squeezed his hand so tight that his knuckles and fingernails turned white.   

I stared at his finger as it moved close to my face.   I watched it as though I had no choice and until my eyes crossed.   He touched my face and followed the pattern of my tears.   The man’s smile slowly left his face.  He, instead, had a look of intensity and determination in his eyes.  I felt like he was looking inside of my soul.  His eyes pierced mine.  I tried to turn my head away from his enslaving gaze but I could not move.  The man pressed his finger firmly under my eye.  His hand was hot and soft but his touch was fiery, firm and forbidding.  The heat from his hands reached me before his finger touched me.  The wetness of my tears sizzled and dried and my skin burned from the intensity of the heat. 

He meticulously followed the pattern of my tears and erased them away, leaving a bruise and scar to mark the places where his finger touched me.  Before I knew it this man had cupped my chin in the palm of his hand and guided my face over and up so close to his I could not tell if it was my breath or his that warmed my nose.  His eyes twinkled like stars.  A smile crept oddly from one side of his face to the other until all I could see were glistening teeth and crinkled, twinkling, almost closed eyes.  I wondered if he was a friendly force coming to my rescue or an evil force coming to destroy me. 

The firmness of his grip began to intensify.    It became frightening and unyielding.   I tried to resist and push him away but I felt as though I had no resistance in me.  Still, he had my chin cupped in his hand and I could not open my mouth.  My teeth were firmly clasped together.  

I tried to scream out, No…leave me alone, but his grip was much too strong.  I tried to pull away from him and move my head from side to side to indicate my displeasure and uneasiness with this stranger but he had such a firm grip I couldn’t move.   He placed his other hand on the back of my head and in one swift movement he pulled me to an upright position, face-to-face with him. This stranger with the brownish, leather-like skin pulled me closer, his grip became stronger and his strange smile turned into a twisted frown. He opened his mouth as he drew me nearer and he acted like he was trying to eat me, whole.  Quickly, he took his hand from behind my head and grabbed my body. 

Oddly, my fears began to diminish and I felt like I had more control over him than he had over me. My lower body was no longer limp; it was strong. I could feel my strength surging, almost bursting, throughout every muscle.   For the first time since our encounter I looked at this man knowing I had the upper hand.    He glared fearlessly back into my eyes yet the twinkle in his eyes had gone away.   His eyes were opened wide.  They were as large as the acorns that fell from the trees.   They were wide with a bodacious challenge in them.  I moved closer to the man’s face so I could look directly into his eyes and accept his challenge.  

Upon closer examination I could see that there was something in the center of his eyes.  Whatever it was, it looked like small galaxies where several hundred stars orbited around some source of energy, a dark energy.  Still, I readied myself to meet his challenge, whatever it was.  I felt more in control than ever and I also began to feel more like a predator than a victim.  I watched with interest as this man raised his arms up in the air and cupped the top of his head this time.   Quickly, he turned as though he was about to leave.  Just as quickly as he turned I felt the hard ground meet and punish my body like I had been slammed and thrown onto it.  Within a few seconds I was again looking at the man, eye-to-eye.    

In the next moment I was on the ground again but this time I had not been dropped or thrown, it was where my will led me to be.  I felt an odd, warm, fullness in my mouth and I saw blood shooting from the man’s leg.  Instinctively, I wrapped myself around him and began to squeeze him.   I looked down at his feet and saw the tail of a large snake moving from side to side.   I was not afraid.   I was excited and empowered. The man’s eyes were opened wide and the reflection of a gigantic black and yellow diamond-backed snake stared at me.    I stared at the reflection in his eyes for a few minutes, admiring the sheer beauty and strength of that magnificent snake.  I was fearless, my confidence and desire had become one…control.  

The man’s mouth opened and I could see the outlining of hundreds of spirits being released into the air.  To the human eye, it would have appeared he opened his mouth and nothing came out of it.  But, being a part of the animal kingdom I saw what no man could see…the spirits that had been locked up inside of him had just been released upon the world.  Like a constrictor, I held him and he could not escape my grip.  I squeezed him until he fell to the ground. I held him tight until the pounding of his heart and the pulsation of the blood moving through his veins had stopped.  

Even after he stopped moving I squeezed him.  I kept on squeezing him until I heard bones snapping.  I stopped this man from moving altogether almost the way he stopped me from moving earlier. I held him until the bones in his neck were crushed and the weight of the blood in his head pulled it down and caused it to swing aimlessly from side to side.  His body became heavier as the blood drained from the top of his head and body down into his trunk, legs and arms.  I continued to squeeze him even though his body had been limp and lifeless for hours.  

I heard a loud pop as my mouth stretched open and my jawbones unhinged.  I put the man’s head in my mouth and crushed it until all of the bones had collapsed. I felt his shoulder blades scrape the roof of my mouth so I squeezed him until his shoulder bones were also crushed flat and small.  Each movement I made sucked more of the man’s body into my mouth and further down my throat.  Each movement caused the man to be crushed into smaller and smaller pieces.  I devoured his entire body and when there was nothing left of the man I slithered away.,,

!!!

The Wolf:

"Every woman has the Blood"

By Amanda Grihm

If I have a few days between when I finish a book and write my review, I tend to forget about what I want to say about the book... In fact, the only thing I could remember was that it was extraordinary, fantastic, a book like no other that I've ever read! Even with the title, I didn't pick up on the supernatural aspect until I read the first chapter. (See above...for part of that chapter.) This is a story about a young woman, Sarissa,  who had begun to dream--strange dreams. It frightens her of course, but she finds it intriguing, wondering what was happening.

At Age 13, she had a startling dream of being transformed into a large snake, devouring an old man that had so frightened her and...slithering away. Then she had another transformation...

As I moved away, I felt stranger and stronger than before and I felt another transformation come upon me. I was moving through the grass quickly.  I was not flying but it felt like I was running on air. Lifted by the strength of my confidence and moving by the will of my spirit, I was unfettered by the chains of conformance, fear, doubt, and anxiety.   I was free to follow my instincts.   I blinked for a second and when I opened my eyes I was looking at a large brown hairy snout in front of my face.  It looked like the snout of a dog but instinctively I knew it was the snout of a wolf. 
~~~

I saw shiny cars, trucks, and buses speeding through the streets and creatures of every kind engaged in every imaginable activity.    And, at last I was finding my way home. At that point, though, I didn’t know what or where home was. Still, I was anxious to get there. I ran faster and faster.   My stride was long and steady.  The force of my back legs pushed me harder and farther, closer and closer to the lights. The closer I got, the more powerful I became.   My shoulder blades were enormous and they moved with precision like the gears of a finely crafted Swiss watch. As I slowed down I began to see the beauty of my powerful physique in the shadow that moved along side of me and in the reflection of the glass in the cars and windows I passed. I saw creatures walking, sprinting and running. I ran toward the creatures but they ran away from me as though they were afraid.   I didn’t want to hurt them.   I was curious.   I merely wanted to see them.  I wanted to see what kind of creatures they were.   I wasn’t hungry and I didn’t sense I needed to defend myself so they had nothing to worry about.  The only time I killed was when I needed food or needed to defend myself.    Still, the closer I got the more they ran away from me.   The ones that didn’t see me kept coming toward me but when they saw me they stopped moving, altogether.

~~~ 

Here on my blog I wanted to share more of an excerpt than I normally do, not so much for the story, but to show the fantastic creative writing by the author as she shares her story...To me, it is almost as if the author is actually feeling how Sarissa is feeling...as she begins to deal with a new part of herself... and to deal with humans who made her feel danger...

She awoke in bed, not sure whether it was all a dream... Was it? It didn't feel like one--it had felt real. But how could she know? As she though about it, she remembered that she had heard of people who had connections with animals...

Sarissa was the owner of a top modeling agency, Panache, or, that is, she had given her husband Jerry, part-ownership and he emceed the shows. One night when she had been on the way home from work, she had encountered two men who she soon sensed presented danger... Soon she was transformed into her wolf persona... After the two men ran away, she went off into the woods, running and enjoying the freedom that she now felt so much. She had once been timid, but now had the strength to face things...

So that when she finally transformed back and went home, she opened the door, instantly smelling, with her extended smelling power, Chanel--Chanel splashed on an unclean body, who smelled "funky..." A strange woman was sitting on their couch with a friend of her husband... Jerry was out of the room, but Sarissa, free from the past, and knowing just what had happened in her home, went on the attack, ultimately chasing them all out of the apartment! It was fun seeing Sarissa take control of her life and her marriage. Jerry had been cheating for quite some time, but...no more..Now, Sarissa was in control of her own life...

Even if she really didn't know what her life was going to be like in the future...

And even Jerry and his new lover wasn't going to give up the money and prestige of being part of Panache...that's all they cared about...

It was an audition for new models, when Anaghta came... There had been so many great models this time, and Sarissa had decided to expand their name to Panacea International Model Troupe. Anaghia had come in late, but after she auditioned, everybody knew that she would become one of the best in the troup... But Anaghia wanted to audition only for Sarissa, and when she finished, she asked Sarissa if she had seen the wolf in her movements.

"I am telling you I, too, know
the wolf," she said in a soft,
compassionate voice.
~~~

Instantly, Sarissa and the others were on guard, Sarissa's friend automatically circling to provide protection... Who was this woman? She was the best of the best and would make a great addition to the group, but what was she all about... Sarissa knew one thing, she was connected to Anaghta, and Anaghta was the dominant force in the room... and then she began to talk to Sarissa telepathically...

I have always loved the mystical, spiritual nature and life of Native Americans. Enjoying the possibility of shape shifting into animals, or having the spirit of one or another animal.  Sarissa had much to learn...and, trust me, if any of this review sounds as fascinating to you as it did to me, then I highly recommend your checking it out! You won't be sorry!


GABixlerReviews

Amanda Grihm was born in Youngstown, Ohio and raised in Cleveland, Ohio from the age of nine. In 1987 she moved to Atlanta, GA, where seven years later she met and married the man of her dreams, J. Emil Grihm. Amanda is an author and playwright. 

Amanda writes about stranger-than-fiction events and stories. She communicates at several different levels - verbally, visually, physically and psychologically. She is a nurturing spirit and an extraordinary communicator. She writes from her heart and her mind's eye about love, friendship and spirituality. She sees everything that she writes in her mind before her pen touches the paper. Amanda enjoys writing on that almost indistinguishable line between truth and fiction and fantasy and reality. 

Amanda's main focus has been on the coming-of-age stories about African American and Indigenous Indian girls becoming strong, independent women. Amanda and many members of her family have had psychic experiences. Consequently, many of her stories delve into the supernatural. Amanda believes that God has availed Himself to her and freed her from the bonds of man's interpretation of His Word and her capabilities. Consequently, some of her stories are about her personal power and the power of God in her life. 

Amanda is also a businessperson and former business owner who has always had a genuine desire to improve situations and a unique ability to solve problems. Her ultimate aim is to improve the experiences of employees and customers. As a result of her keen attention to detail, after a few weeks of starting her first job, she was promoted to efficiency expert at a major insurance firm. 

In 2013 Amanda wrote the first of many small business books on customer care - Rat Bastard Customer Care: Committed to the fix!

See Also,

Review of

The Marker by Diana Savastano Added to Personal Favorite for 2017

Winslow Homer's Famous 1862 Drawing of a Civil War Surgeon at Work in the Field

I loved this book! The concept and follow through of the storyline of this book was fascinating and I read it in one day, finishing about midnight...If you enjoy paranormal/ supernatural fiction, with a historical slant into the Civil War period, this one is highly recommended!

May 1863: Port Gibson, Mississipi

Early morning sun struggled to diffuse the heavy fog that blanketed a peace valley where battle-wear Confederate soldiers rested in makeshift tents.

As the first rays of sunlight penetrated the ghostly haze, a sea of blue advanced with lightning speed on horseback and on foot. A ragged Union flag flapped briskly as the blue-clad ranks moved swiftly and brutally firing torrents of artillery into the enemy's camp. The earth trembled, and disoriented Confederate troops desperately scrambled for their weapons.

When the sound of gunfire awakened Dr. Bradley Taylor, he instinctively grabbed his medical gear and ran from his tent. With no concern for his own safety, he tended to both blue and gray troops, remaining faithful to the sacred oath he took when he became a physician.

Moving from one soldier to another, he doctored wounds until a single-bullet found its intended mark. A searing pain ripped through his back as he slumped to the ground, writhing in agony...

"And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt." --Daniel 12:2

A sharp pain in his stomach caused him to press his hands against his belt buckle. His swollen fingers followed the outline of two raised metal initials. Panic swept over him when he realized this was a Union buckle. He pulled at it, but it wouldn't break free from his belt...

~~~

They had found him four years later and buried him as an unknown soldier. Someone had placed a belt buckle for US and a union soldier uniform...He was buried in the cemetery for the Union... 

Dr. Bradley Taylor had lost his identity in death, he was buried without anybody knowing he was even dead. His family would have never known what happened to him. Buried, but not at rest in this place...He could not move on. What of his beloved wife and son? Decades went by but nobody searched for him. Why would they? He had fought for the Confederate, and as a doctor who served anybody who needed his medical training. 

He didn't deserve being murdered, betrayed... He would wait...

Readers learn of Dr. Taylor in the Prologue, while the book itself begins in the Present Day in New York City. Jennifer Beasley, the primary writer for a major magazine is begging her boss to give her some very much needed time off...

Jennifer has recognized the signs of stress of overwork and, this time, she's not going to let her boss prevent her from taking time off... She almost succeeds, but another writer who had an assignment has suddenly disappeared without explanation. Jennifer compromises and agrees with an immediate two-week vacation upon return. She discovers that Jake, the photographer, a friend, but also an admirer who has been pushing for more would be going. Jack just adds more to the stress, but they do have a good trip which included a little shopping for a gift for her father, a Civil War, enthusiastic collector. Before she leaves, she is able to purchase a Grave Marker, from an unknown soldier in a Civil War Union Cemetery.

But after she bought it, she worried about the appropriateness of giving a grave marker to her father...Before she had decided, though, Jennifer began to hear a voice...A voice that claimed the marker was his, from his grave... He asked for her help!

The man kept asking for help and with her unexpected assignment now done, she proceeds to plan time off, even as her boss tried to keep her there...The man was telling her to go Jto Natchez. Jennifer knew she was meant to go! 

And there the search began, using her research skills as well as trusted people who agreed to help along her way, she began to put the puzzle together, searching historical documents, personal letters, old Bibles, diaries as well as present records of where people were based upon name changes, and more...

But that's just saying what was happening to find the answers. Surrounding the work,  we get to know the people who were living during the Civil War. We learn that Rebecca, Bradley Taylor's wife, married again and how badly that turned out for her, for one thing... Interestingly, Dr. Taylor appeared to Jennifer once near the grave upon her arrival, but then never again. She had agreed to help and proceeded into an amazing adventure that she knew she would not stop for any reason...

Supernatural, yes Indeed! But consider the last part of the scripture given, "...some to shame and everlasting contempt..." While Dr. Taylor could not rest, neither could those who had done evil...so that in the present day, how the former generations lived, so it affected those individuals in their present lives... You know, close to another scripture that talks about the sins of the father being visited on the son... 

All Dr. Taylor wanted was to rest in peace with the rest of his family...but...what happens in the lives of Jennifer and those helping solve the "cold case" includes healing, love and marriage. There was only one clue that suggested me that Dr. Taylor had been reincarnated... Let me know if you think I read right! Nevertheless, a wonderfully written page-turner that pulls you into a cold murder case like no other... After all, the victim sought help in solving the crime! Highly recommended!


GABixlerReviews

Diana began her writing career as a columnist and feature writer. She later became a food journalist and editor. In 1992, she established her own company, publishing two print magazines (The COLLECTOR Newsmagazine and Gourmet Fare). In addition, Diana was the creator and host of Cooking with Grandma. Her first book, ON THE BREATH OF ANGELS, was released in April 2008. WINDS OF POOD series (Under the Puddle and In the Blizzard) are her first middle-grade novels, followed by The Upside Down Inside Out Life of Maureen Kiernan (Book 1: The Magic Cello), The Princess Who Loved to Swim, and THE MARKER. In addition to writing books, she is working with veteran entertainment advisors penning multiple script projects to bring
 her book characters to life on screen. 

Visit Diana at https://www.dianasavastano.com

In Love By Christmas From Fantasy.Visionary Author, Sandy Nathan

...I've always wanted to write a Christmas book. One of those warm glowing things that make you feel good and have a sweet cover.

Aha! Why not combine Leroy and a Christmas book? This is that combo. In Love by Christmas, starring Leroy Watches Jr. and the love of his life. Unfortunately, I am constitutionally unable to write anything soft and fuzzy: In Love by Christmas is the most badass Christmas story ever written...

You've been warned...

The farewell dinner party was that night. So many things had happened at the retreat that Will found himself feeling exalted and pole-axed at the same time. Tomorrow. they'd pack up and go back to Palo Alto and the corporate headquarters. He would never be the same, and neither would Numenon, Inc.

As dusk deepened to night, he strolled around the camp watching Jon Walker, his chef; the three surviving drivers, and a few Indians prettying up the place. Will smiled at the transformation of their vehicles and encampment.

When they got there, the Numenon caravan had consisted of four matched motor homes and his rolling masterpiece, the Cass. They sported the corporate colors: pristine ivory, burgundy and gold. Their impact was tasteful and elegant. Jon had parked them in a circle like a wagon train, turning the central court into an outdoor living room.

Everything was different now. Two nights ago, demons had come streaming out of the earth and roared over the retreat site. They tore up everything, killing everyone they could. They painted pornographic graffiti on the Numeron RVs. The images were disgusting and insulting to his staff and him. And they couldn't get them off...

The spectacular Leroy Watches was on the stage, straddling some kind of enormous wooden drum. Even seated, he looked tall. Broad back and shoulders, massive neck. Slim hips. Feathers bristled from the back of his neck. He looked like a throwback to a primitive age. When his huge hands hit the rawhide drumhead, the whole place seemed to shake It wasn't that loud, it was just Leroy's playing. He played and all the other instruments seemed to fill in the cracks. Get vibrant. Come alive. Hold a beat.

He turned his head to his friends, smiling, and laughing. Will could see his white teeth flash. Energy surged around him. The man was vividly alive. He was Grandfather's blood grandson and it showed,

Will began to feel that the answer Grandfather had suggested would work. His worry--the biggest worry--let up. Maybe he was just dreaming. Maybe the crazy vibe of this place had him fantasizing that  things could turn out right...

~~~

In Love By Christmas

By Sandy Nathan

When Sandy Nathan mentioned to me that she had a Christmas novel, I immediately thought I'd want to read it this month. I admit it never occurred to me at that time that I'd just read a trilogy by Nathan that was, to the say the least, not the average set of books... Even when, in the Introduction, she gave her readers a warning, I went on reading... So, as part of my review, I must say upfront that the violence and sexual abuse is graphic... At the same time, however, this is a story that pits good versus evil in the best possible way... Nathan has unbelievably presented an unforgettable, intriguing story that I highly recommend...if you are willing to confront the reality of good and evil...and see who wins...

Will Duane is the richest man on earth at this time. His company Numenon holds most of the rights on any type of electronic equipment that is being produced. However, he has always been an effective and honest owner of his companies... On the personal side, however, he was not only not faithful, he was involved with so many women nobody could keep track. His wife and daughter were both aware and hated what he was doing to his family...

A perfect time for evil to attack Duane's empire. Now, many of us know that criminals are evil in all that they do...but, Nathan takes it right down to reality. These criminals are actual demons who can transform back and forth to human people. It is this group of demons, led by Enzo Donatore, that have started working to destroy Will Duane and all that surrounds him. Enzo starts by seducing Will's wife and immediately welcomes her daughter, Cass, into his life as well...

At the same time there are those on the Board of Numenon who have started trying to move Duane toward making short cuts aimed to make the company even more profitable... At that point, Duane sets up a retreat with Native American Shaman leadership... Even there, the demons found him, but, amazingly Duane stood up to them and with Grandfather's help, the people at the retreat was not completely destroyed...

During that time together, we meet Leroy, who was also born to be a Shaman and had been training under his Grandfather all of his life. He was a healer who had began using this gift at the age of four... It was when Duane brought out pictures of his missing family that Leroy first saw a picture of Cass, touched it, and knew she was his soulmate--the knowledge between his soulmate and a shaman is like no other earthly connection... Grandfather also looked at the picture and confirmed Leroy's announcement. Leroy had fallen in love with her picture.

Leroy is racially African-American and Native American and stood tall and strong. It was not long before he had agreed to find Cass on behalf of his father... which he did...

Without details, Cass was immediately placed in a hospital under constant care, and on total life support...

In the meantime, as happens to some who have religious experiences, Cass' father began to question the potential relationship between Cass and Leroy and, telling Leroy that he was not allowed to visit Cass, he sent him off to a grand tour during which he would be trained to live "in society..." You know, using the right silverware, how to address royalty...

What Will had not realized was that Leroy and Cass had already formed a bond while Leroy had rescued her and was with her shortly in the emergency room... Leroy was making contact with Cass no matter where he traveled...

I loved the blend, the merge of supernatural, paranormal and fantasy, especially the inclusion of various religions each being used to fight the fight against evil... The surprises happening seem to be considered impossible, but were easily being done by those with the inner power coming to them from The Great One. In fact, the vision of the author moves forward and faster as we read, with no doubt or hesitation in what was being performed in His name... The book is a potpourri of horror, action adventure, spirituality, climaxing in a great wonderful, supernatural mystery!

Although some parts are hard to read, as we see evil at work on earth...the miraculous overcomes and love did come at Christmas...


Highly recommended


GABixlerReviews

I used to be a princess. My parents were born in the hungry days of the Great Depression. They overcame the poverty of their youth by becoming extremely successful. I spent my time showing horses and water-skiing behind my dad’s obscenely overpowered boat. That life vanished when a drunk driver hit my father head-on in 1964, killing him. 

Not instantly, though. My dad's death was the stuff of horror movies and plunged my family into years of darkness. 

My old life disappeared. I lived at close to poverty level for a while. What happened in the following decades opened my eyes. I've seen and lived the over-privileged existence I describe in the Bloodsong Series. I've seen how it can warp those who are lost in it. I've seen how the power of money can mask mental illness and allow evil to ruin lives.

I know the mental and emotional landscape of the San Francisco Bay Area, Silicon Valley, as it has come to be known. I know the physical geography just as well; I lived on the San Francisco Peninsula for fifty years. I made my home in the iconic cities and towns of Atherton, Woodside, Cupertino, and Palo Alto during that time. 

How did such a hothouse flower end up writing the rough and visceral fiction I do? It’s because of what happened in those dark years. 

My writing has a bite. My life has had a bite. Recovering from what happened to me has taken many years. And I have recovered. What was legitimately mine came back to me, along with the fruit of my own labor. If your life echoes mine, you might like to see how I healed; it’s in my books. 

My writing isn’t for everyone. I write about people getting better and the world working out, but it’s not always gentle and nice. A reviewer described one of my books as “equal parts horror, spiritual, romance, and action.” If that’s for you, you’re my reader. 

I consider what I write as falling primarily into the visionary fiction genre, which is about psychological maturation and making the world a better place. I have had huge spiritual experiences all my life, as well as gentler, ongoing inner guidance. Whatever is behind these experiences and this earthly life wants me to tell you my visions through my tales: my darkness and light.

Now for my “regular bio”: I’ve been in school a very long time and have two advanced degrees. I’ve had prestigious careers. My writing has won thirty national awards. I’m very happily married; my husband and I have been together forty years. I have three grown children and two grandchildren. My husband and I live on our California horse ranch and love it. We still ride the trails together, metaphorically and on our horses.

Greylock by Paula Cappa Gothic Supernatural Classical Music Mystery - It Had to Become a Personal Favorite!

Behind Josef, a woman screamed. He turned. A bird, with a wingspan of almost two feet, swung up to the ceiling. Josef crouched down like everyone else. 

Lexie didn’t move a muscle, his vision following the bird. Everyone dashed in wild circles, screaming, shoving, tripping over each other. “How did that get in here?!”

“Oh God, that’s not a bat, is it?”

“Get it out!” “Looks like a hawk.”

“Everybody get out!”

Tim and others tried to direct the bird to the doorway, but it darted ceiling to floor, like some jet bomber. It zoomed the tables then dove down, skidding into a landing.

Every photo crashed to the floor. The manic thing tore up the silk and netted decorations, sent the loops of flowers off their hooks, the whole time chattering  kee-kee-kee-kee-keeeeee! One guy tried to catch it under a basket. Another tried to snag it down with a shawl. Tim went after it with a broom.

 

Finally the bird found the archway out and

escaped. Howard wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “Holy shit! How weird. Must have been one of those psycho-pomps. You know, escorts to the afterlife.” He laughed alone on that one.

 “Not funny, you ass. Look at this destruction.” Tim was biting his thumb. 

Josef found Lexie by the front doors. “That was a black merlin. There he is. See him on that rooftop? Far to the left?”

“A what?” Josef looked up.

“Peregrine. Black merlin. Fastest falcons on the planet.”

“Yeah? How do you know it’s a black merlin?”

“Recognized his call. I want to kill that thing.”

~~~

GREYLOCK

By Paula Cappa

Wow! Once in awhile you find all of your favorite things within one book and this is one! Starting with the gothic feel of the storyline, even within a contemporary setting, add selected classical music, mostly minor, to support, and add a supernatural character to become the horror monster in this mystery and all I can add is that I loved it! It's fascinating, commanding, powerful and scary as hell...

“Hurry,” she said. He obeyed his aunt. Nine years old, he knew to trust Aunt Marta for everything. He dashed to the studio and sat at the Steinway. Was Dad still asleep? Would he hear him playing? “Play, Ah-lehk-SAY.” Auntie shouted from the bedroom. She sang his name as if to pitch him the first note.

 “Auntie? Will he‌—‌?”

 “He will hear your music. Begin.”

With trembling fingers, Alexei began Tchaikovsky’s Concerto Number One. He stumbled on the opening, failing to create the thundering chords, then stopped and began again. He hadn’t perfected the power of this concerto yet, but he knew his father loved it best. This will soothe him. Soaring though the allegro movement, Alexei enjoyed the familiar thrill of the music. The splendid harmonies urged him on as his fingers jumped across the keyboard. His father’s voice repeated in his mind.
All the world is music, my Lexie. Go inside the notes. The allegro movement would thrill his father too and make him open his eyes. What phantom? Auntie was just being Auntie. Tchaikovsky’s concerto would soothe his sick heart. The clear notes would send the phantom away. Dad would wake up smiling and say, Bravo, my boy, bravo. Music filled the house up to its gables. Resplendent notes played like spheres before Alexei’s eyes. Chasing one after the other. 
Flashings. Blurs of light. A kaleidoscope. Can you hear? Dad? I’m playing for you. Just like you play Tchaikovsky. Vibrations spun over Alexei’s body. Lively sound waves pulsed through his hands, throbbed into his left rib, a pleasant tingling. He inhaled the concerto’s warm tones. He swallowed the bright rhythms, his belly filling. Every chord tasted smoky. Octaves evaporated into aromas of melting candy‌—‌ razzes and dives and creamy crescendos. 
A beat later the music jammed. Choked to a dead stop. What did he do? Become the music, Lexie. Believe. He hit the white keys. Nothing. He slammed the black keys. Nothing. What happened? A hammer stick? Again he pressed. Every key resisted. Demanding the piano to obey, Alexei struck the stubborn keys once more. “Come on. I believe!” The keys held like bricks in mortar. Why won’t it play? His fingers slid recklessly above the locked keys. 
“Please.” He fisted up his hands with a hard shake. “Play.” Air flashed behind him. The concerto rolled forth. Sweeps and crescendos blasted. Glistening sounds broke over his head. He stared at his fists rigid above the piano keys. How was the concerto playing without him? Rhythms

hammered down. Vibrations shook the wood floor and wall paintings, nearly cracking the old plaster. The very air soared with music. 
Unable to stand the thundering a second longer, he fled the piano. The concerto followed him to the bricked chimney corner where he crouched. Booming, the double octave passages surrounded him. Eyes squeezed shut, hugging himself, ribs knocking, toes curling, he covered his ears. “What did I do? What’s happening? Dad! Make it stop!” The concerto halted. 
Did something sigh just then? A voice? Sounded just like the bed creaked. He’s awake. He’s up! Dawn flooded the studio, dusty rays humming with yellow light. “Dad?” A kiss misted against his forehead. He listened. Silence. Alexei burst into deep, quiet, sorrowful weeping. He let his hands drop, kitten-limp to his sides and lifted his head. 
Footsteps padded the hallway‌—‌ gentle and slow‌—‌ like treading upon a path of wool. Auntie Marta appeared at the doorway, half a lit candle in her hand. She blew it out, sat at the piano, covered her face and sobbed. Alexei watched her a moment, biting his lip, failing to hold his tongue. “Auntie, did he hear my music? Did he hear the concerto?” 
She lifted her face. “Oh yes, of course he heard your music. Alexei, don’t you know, child? The ear is the way.”

~~~

Billy Joel’s “Movin’ Out” played from

 the sound system. He smiled, taking it as a 

sign from the Muses that he was headed in

the right direction. Aunt Marta had never

 approved of his playing Billy Joel’s music. 

Poor old sweet Aunt Marta. She’d be happy

 to hear the news of his movin’ out plans.

 She never liked Carole Anne anyway.

~~~

Such a tragic happening. Alexei had played as his aunt had requested...while his father died in another room. Alexei had not played Tchaikovsky’s Concerto Number One since that time...

Now a grown man, he was playing things that his Aunt Marta did not approve of, but now as he listened to Billy Joel's Movin' Out, he knew that she would be happy

to hear the song title from him...he was moving out from his home and his marriage...

But he knew it was going to be difficult...and he found that it was much more than he realized... Carole Anne would never let him leave her and she'd make sure of that!

Alexei's character is sympathetic but also a little cavalier. His career has never really gone as he thought it would, until he first played the October Sonata...

But there was a secret about the October Sonata and Alexei had shared it with Carole Anne when they'd first been married, now she was threatening him, and was even, he later found, selling the exclusive piece to other pianists...

But that wasn't the only thing about the October Sonata. The best way to say it was that it was cursed...And when Alexei played it for the first time in public...It had awakened...





“Why is that? Why don’t you have a face, Varlok?”
“It was taken from me. When they seized my vision. I will not take your face when I seize yours.” 
“You’re disgusting. What world spawned you?” “I come here at the conjuring.”
“I never conjured you!”
 “You did. With every note of October. With every performance. Ahh, the timelessness of music.

~~~

And then Carole Anne was murdered, both carotid arteries slashed in a checkmark. But she wasn't the only one who had been killed this way. There had been three others...

Fortunately, Alexei had been awarded the opportunity to travel to Russia and record whale song for his proposed symphony, but the officer in charge of the case believed he was responsible... and there had been time for him to do it before he'd left, but he provided an alibi...

The belugas sang in streams of buzzes, clicks, and shrieks. Alexei followed a down sweep of trills. He mapped the notes and intervals. One whale whooped like a tiger’s growl. More sweeps and double sweeps. The songs went on nearly thirty minutes. The whales might have been applauding themselves. “They’re beneath us, really deep. God, I wish I could see them. I’m dying to see them.” Alexei leaned over the stern...
These musical marvels stirred the sea like a bowl of silk. What would that feel like? The sea and songs, the whales and sun? “I’m going in.” He tossed off his sneakers and jacket. 
“No, Mister Georg. Vater too cold,” Shemiossa warned.
Cold? Whales had the hottest blood of all! And right now their bodies were warming the sea with every flip, calling the sun inside every wave. Alexei dove in. Ahhhh, like swimming in warmed

cream. Buzzes and trills, screams and whoops. Treble strings stretched high. Was that a fragment of a scale in that call? The hydrophone hung from the ship’s hull. Had he pressed record? He did, of course he did. Pay attention! He came up for air inside this great sea of the oldest hierarchies. A beluga nearly met him head on. The tail-whack of another whale sent him under into a volume of whistles. He surfaced with a massive puff breath. Was there anything more invigorating than these giant white creatures twirling light as soap bubbles? Three belugas swam circles round him, checking him out. Alexei let them propel him farther out in the shifting currents. The whole pod surrounded him, these sea canaries rocking and rolling. 
Gleb called out to him and waved his arms to come back. No way. Alexei back-floated away from the ship. He followed the whales’ leaps like he was one of them. One shining beluga swam close enough to touch him. His single watery-grey eye, a porthole, invited him down. The grey-eyed whale propelled Alexei under. Sun light flowed like a waterfall beneath them. He followed the beluga into a funnel of water. Ten, twenty, maybe thirty belugas joined them. Their calls vibrated. His fleshed trembled. His ribs pulsed. Even his spine ached. He counted ten different vocalizations like violins’ up-bowing and down-bowing passage after passage. But he was running out of air fast.
The belugas powered Alexei up. That grey-eyed whale rubbed hard against his belly. Nearly a hug. Without any struggle from opposing currents, the belugas playfully hurled him to the surface. And just in time, he whacked up out of the water with a desperate new breath. 
Jovan tossed him a flotation ring. Alexei sucked in the beautiful air. He climbed aboard the ship and turned to see the whales one more time, to lock in their image. Only the metal-grey sea remained. “They’re gone?”
“Belugas go under...”

~~~

Ok, this is a little longer today, but the whale play was just too fun not to share! LOL...

Cappa's research on this book obviously has been extensive and she weaves a web of jealousy and intrigue even without adding the supernatural element. There are plenty of suspects in the murders, without involving Alexei, including those known and close to him. 

There is even romance as Alexei hooks up with a local news rep who seems to be perfect for him... But when everything starts coming out she is caught between the gossip from a former boyfriend/cop who's saying Alexei is about to be arrested and what her feelings are for Alexei.

Two interesting components I really enjoyed was the addition of a shaman who acted, first, as Alexei's translator while in Russia, but who then became even more important... The other was that Alexei had a love of mystery fiction such as Marlowe, which were highlights of my younger mystery fan days...

Have to say that what is creating havoc for Alexei and those caught in the supernatural component brings the most excitement and suspense to the novel. It brings the horror of The Raven and The Birds, and even a touch of The Shining, in a much more subdued, mysterious fashion due to the "magical tension."  The ending is intense and almost anticlimactic in its simplicity--if only because the activity seems impossible to actually do! Some really amazing, cool creativity went into the completion of this significant work.

I've not read this author before, but I'd have to add her to my favorite author list just on the basis of this one book...and, of course, this novel was added to my personal favorites for 2016. For me, this book was over-the-top in bringing me all that I could want into a few hundred pages! Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

I’m happy to announce that my mystery Greylock has won a Paranormal Chanticleer International Book Award, 2015.  The category is Supernatural. This is a Blue Ribbon writing competition that has become a champion for emerging and talented authors around the globe. They are partners with the Independent Book Publishers Association, The Alliance of Independent Authors, and The Writer.

Paula Cappa is the recipient of a Chanticleer Book Award, the prestigious Eric Hoffer Book Award, the Readers’ Favorite International Bronze Medal for Supernatural Suspense, and a Gothic Readers Book Club Award Winner in Outstanding Fiction.

She is the author of Greylock, The Dazzling Darkness, and Night Sea Journey—print editions published by Crispin Books, Milwaukee WI. Her short fiction has appeared in Dark Gothic Resurrected Magazine, Whistling Shade Literary Journal, SmokeLong Quarterly, Sirens Call Ezine, Every Day Fiction, Fiction365, Twilight Times Ezine, and in anthologies Journals of Horror: Found Fiction, Mystery Time, and Human Writes Literary Journal.

She is a freelance copy editor and writes a weekly short story blog, Reading Fiction, Tales of Terror at paulacappa.wordpress.com. Paula Cappa is Co-Chair of the Pound Ridge Authors Society in Pound Ridge, NY.

Special mention goes to the songs of the beluga whales in the White Sea, especially “Beluga Whale Music” by David Rothenberg (Thousand Mile Song). Hours of listening to these songs influenced my thoughts and creativity as I wrote Greylock‌—‌ and after many weeks’ listening to their lovely voices, I thought I might grow my own blowhole. Alas, I did not.