Monthly Archives: October 2015

All Souls Night

For the past month, we have been overwhelmed with the business of costumes and make-up and scary movies. It’s easy to forget that this isn’t just Halloween, but Samhain, the night when the walls are low between worlds. Take a moment to think of ancestors and dearly departed tonight as they might be right at your sides.

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Power Tools in the Sacred Grove

As Marc pulled into Camp Arcanum, Mr. Fixit’s headlights caught something sparkling in the dark. He vaguely remembered that Eleazar and Michael had erected an artificial Christmas tree beside the picnic table. Orange extension cords coiled around it as garland. Chrome-plated box-end wrenches dangled from the branches as ornaments and reflected light like mirrors. A mechanic’s trouble light took the place of a star on the top.

He growled under his breath at the waste of time and tools. At the last moment, he decided to park beside it instead of on top of it.

Marc slumped out of his car and into his trailer. He didn’t bother with the lights inside. Stripping his clothes off as he went, he fell into bed. He knocked over the pictures of women he didn’t know and burrowed under the covers, hoping he didn’t dream about Brenwyn, Jeremiah, or any of the other denizens of Arcanum.

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Eleazar made the circuitous run of the last few hundred yards into camp driving with only his left hand on the wheel. His other hand spent most of its happy time between the thighs of Esmeralda, an exotic beauty he had met that evening in Arcanum. That he was able to negotiate the turns, the clutch, the gear shift, and a curvaceous Brazilian was a tribute to his superb physical coordination.

He pulled his gypsy wagon into its habitual space and his paramour for the evening was upon him before the engine had even died. He found her enthusiasm to be encouraging. He did everything he could to encourage her in turn.

The two of them made it out of the truck without injury and commenced across the gravel drive, the stairs and trailer door while linked lip-to-lip. Once inside, Esmeralda’s outer clothes came off as if buttered. Eleazar was doing his best to catch up when he was distracted by the sound of bedsprings. His blood froze as he saw the naked form of his boss, the surly giant that beat monsters to death with a shovel, rising out of shadows.

“What the Hell are you doing in my trailer?” Marc rumbled.

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To discover how bad things can go from here, catch my reading from my second novel “Power Tools in the Sacred Grove” this Sunday at the Book Loft: 631 S 3rd St, Columbus, OH 43206, (614) 464-1774.  Barring bad weather, I will be in the garden between 1 and 3 p.m., reading, signing, and perhaps hand out bribes of sweets.

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