Chapter 20 Death Fire


He carried the pressure  cooker of food into the shack bringing up the rear with a basket of bread and other goodies I was surprised on how much bigger the place on the inside actually was. The place had been built in a cavern that the walls were completely smooth from the winds. The original cavern was probably started hundreds of years earlier.  The sandstone made with the different layers of sand made for beautiful walls. The front wall covered a opening with a Sandstone wall.  You would never know it from the outside. The living room  was an area of about 20 by 20 had with a fireplace that had  a natural chimney. He  had  decorated in heavy wooded furniture that had rich chocolate brown microfiber cushions that you could sink into. The couch had a hand knitted ivory colored afghan tossed on it. The main focus of the room was the fireplace and stone hearth.
The kitchen had all the modern conveniences plus a wall of natural cabinets he had taken the crevices made them his pantry. A heavy wooden bar worked for a table and a place people could sit and talk as he worked in the kitchen. The lighting consisted of recessed can lighting. The effect was very pleasing.
“I talked to my other aunt’s today.”
Looking at his face I saw the hurt that he was feeling.
“I assume it wasn’t a good conversation from the look on your face.”
“You would be right. They were both uncooperative to talk about anything. I’m not sure what to believe. They were never out and out cruel to me. They both let me know that they wouldn’t  care if I  dropped off the face of the Earth. I am the one that caused all the problems in the family.” Shaking his head they never said a word about Aunt Ina’s funeral. So I  am  done with them.”
I served the green  beans on the heavy stoneware plates he handed me.
“So now what?”
” I am going to make a trip down to the lost river and see if I can find out anything. I talked to my commander and he is checking about the large battery affect but I get the feeling nothing is going to come of it.”
” I am going with you.” I reached out to touch his hand only to be met with anger.
“No you’re not. I won’t let you go, it’s to dangerous.”
“Well tough I am going. You don’t know where the opening is and I do and I have been thinking about it. I have been down past the wall. It was a long time ago . I can act as your guide.”
His face went dark. I  could see he was angry but he saw the sense in what I was thinking.
“Listen Ella, it’s not that I mind you going with me. But if you got hurt. I  think it would kill me. I have been too close to people in the military and have lost close friends. I am not willing to let something happen to you.”
Some how I appreciated the thought. But it angered me that he didn’t think I  could handle it. “So I am supposed to sit and wait on you to come back like a good girl. Listen to me and listen good. I am going with or without you. Roberta was,a friend of mine. So was little Sammy, if I can help give either of them peace all the better. So get over this he-man crap and deal with it.”
I wasn’t expecting his reaction. His hands gripped my shoulders turning me to him. “Don’t you get it you little fool. I’m not sure if I could protect you from her.”
” Don’t you get it I would rather take the chance of being killed down in that God forsaken hole. Than staying here and not knowing if you’re alive or dead down there.”
His lips found mine right after his arms pulled me close.
In the corner by the fireplace a small boy sat watching the two of them.They had no idea what they were in for.He stood up and dissolved into nothing. He would try to keep them safe.

Chapter 18


Ronald’s wife lived up to her name. Ada a true southern belle that had been living a hard life. She met us at the front door. Her hair pulled back in a tight bun and a weather-beaten face that may have come from to much life.
Josh had contacted her earlier with no response.
“Well I knew you’d be by, after Ronald’s death in front of the Sheriff. I should have come to Ina’s funeral today. Your here to find out why Ronald was on the receiving end of your mother’s wrath.”
She stepped into the kitchen and brought was a tray of tea and some pictures.
“The picture is of my son James. Ronald was his stepfather. My first husband was killed two years after we were married in a moonshine still explosion. You have to understand this was back about nineteen fifty. I had just found out I was pregnant.  Ronald knew my family and he owed my Dad some money. Dad told him he’d let the debt go if he married me. Back in those days Ronald was a decent looking man. He was good to me and treated James like his own. He was strict.” Taking a drink of tea. She looked around her neat but sparsely furnished living room before she continued.
” James had learning disabilities. He had trouble making friends. That was why I was so thrilled when he made friends with Roberta. She was a sweet girl. She often would show up and help me in the garden. She began to like James. She helped him learn to read better than I could.Sometime after that they got together. She was about sixteen and James about eighteen.”
She played at the the hem of the old blouse she had on. Her face seemed to dissolve from a hearty farm wife to a shriveled old woman as she whispered,
“When Ronald found out he went crazy he called Roberta all kinds of names James told him to, Shut up, this my baby and I want it.
The kids were sitting on the old wagon. I watched from the window. I had been on the receiving end of Ronald’s wrath. I saw Ronald back hand James. He kept hitting James he couldn’t stop. James fell off the wagon and hit his head on a pile of rocks. Ronald didn’t stop even then, he stomped my son to death. Roberta was screaming and she ran. I guess that’s when she went out of her mind.”
We sat there for a long time not saying a word. Josh shook his head. “I never knew who my father was. I don’t know that they knew for sure.
She handed Josh a picture of James. He looked like James except he was darker. “You can have that if you want it. I have another.”
We got up to go. Josh turned to the woman. “Where is my father buried?”
The tears in the woman’s eyes, “I don’t know but I think down in the bottoms there’s an old cabin down there. Ronald told me one time that he’d buried my boy under that cabin.”
Josh nodded, “Well Thank you for your time. Miss Ada how did you stay with Ronald knowing what you know?”
“The man cheated my son out of life and me from knowing my grandchild. I stayed with him for one reason. I wanted to make his life a living Hell. He never got to touch me again. I shouldn’t say this but I enjoyed watching him burn. Which makes me as bad as him.” Her lips composed a thin line as the tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“No Grandmother, it makes you human.”

Changing Genre


Since I have started writing I have always tried to do something that kept people’s interest. After publishing my first short story, a romance. I have not had any luck getting anything else liked, my inspirational story fell flat. It was a sweet story and it was turned down by a sweet story publisher.
Well its time to back up and regroup. Thinking about it I have quit fighting  what my oldest stepson wants me to do. Finish a story of creepiness, mayhem, and general horror. You see I started a story a while back and I wrote out the most interesting character. Well I trashed the while story. Can we say Borrrrreing, a complete snooze fest. But the one character comes to visit regularly.
So I am finishing her story. She is a complete unmitigated psycho. Known as the killing Princess. I find I am having fun writing again. The title is at the moment known as the Red Haze.
So changing genres may be the best thing I can do
She isn’t a inspirational story but it maybe something that you read with the lights on.

How does one meet mentors and friends in new genres


I am changing genres. Not just romance to erotic romance or paranormal. I am changing from romance to thriller, psychological.
Eventually, I intend to join the ITW.org
International Thrill Writers organization.
In the mean time, are the people who would like to get together and talk to a newbie?
Is there a way to talk to people who are interested in these genres before joining?
If there is please contact me a by leaving a comment. I would love to talk to you.
It would be so nice to talk to people who Don’t get a glazed look on their face when I mention the current murder my character is completing.

Gwyn Weyant
gweyant@aol.com

Just a crazy moment But….


As a writer we all plot our stories. Whether it be on paper, computer, or the back of a napkin at a diner while having coffee.
My husband helped go over a semi wreck in the dust on a 53′ box van that he was using for work.
Today’s question:
What would you use to do a murder. Would it be a nice clean murder, freeze the body and cut it up before it thawed no muss, no fuss.
Or would you be the more bloody type cave the jokers head in with a ten pounds  sledge hammer or splitting mull.
Neat as in arsenic or mercury poisoning.
Or thoroughly demented with the piano wire wrapped around the neck, and if the didn’t quite do the job, a machete through the chest.
Knitting needles through the eyes or double 00 buckshot at close range.
The real question is do you want a gory bloody mess or never be found out, knowing you have committed the perfect murder.
Me I don’t know I see advantages to neat and clean but to write a character that is so completely insane that she stands there dripping in her victims blood, or screaming  as they lock her away in the cell in the state Hospital for the criminally insane. Hmm fodder for a new story. As she laughs maniacally.

Life’s little mundane tasks.


So you have the every day job, that drives you nuts. The coworker that seems to be the boss’s favorite. You got passed up for the job because of a glitch in the system. No small relief when that employee didn’t get it either.
The kids come in with a ton of homework and complaining about teachers.
The house is covered in mud and dust the youngest is a class act mud pie maker. The dust is because you haven’t been in the house for the biggest part of two weeks except for meals.
Laundry is stacked to the ceiling because the repairman didn’t show for the washer.
You are ready to scream when you burn the best taco casserole ever.
Hubby comes in with news of a new job cause his company is shutting down. But he will go in at a higher wage and a company car.
You fight getting the kids through homework, baths and for your teenage daughter the drama of her first boyfriend.
By the end of the week. Things are beginning to fall in place. Laundry is done hubby went and bought you a new machine. The job came through for him.
The kids are scrubbed and daughter has moved on to something reasonable horses again.
You sit down to a shoulder rub and a glass of wine. And a phone call that tells you the coworker that gave you fits walked out with the copy machine repair man.
Hubby puts his arm around you gives you a kiss as the kids yell yes that you are the greatest parents ever because vacation is Disneyland.
Such is the daily mundane tasks.

Thoughts about Sunsets


I sit and wonder through the hills and valley’s of my mind and rarely make any progress as to what I am thinking about.
In the last couple of days I am continually thinking about sunsets. Why, if anyone can tell me why I’ll be glad to listen. Then I decided it maybe due to the fractured mess of the past ten days.
Sunsets can be absolutely beautiful they can be bright and sunny leaving you thinking of  bright romantic evenings.
Then there are bright orange and reds that can feel happy like clowns have decorated the sky.
The deep grays that drift into the blues of midnights with the sudden burst of
light that streaks down to the ground with a force that lights up the entire sky.
The clouds that are white and fluffy from one side and dark and foreboding as the wind gathers strength. The first huge drop of rain that gathers several of its kind together and falls to the fields below giving a nourishing drink to the earth below. Only to blow itself out and letting the sky lighten so evening can fall with a coolness that we all enjoy with a sweetness from flowers, hay and grass that’s been mown.
Sunsets are amazing works of arts. That is why they are painted so often they let your mind wonder into a world that might make you go a wandering.
(Okay so it was a bad pun. Got one better please share.)