The Tree-Short read

This book will be out in a few days. I thought I would treat everyone with a short read.

Five year old Ana BuFaye refuses to stay in her own bed or on her side of the room she shares with her big sister Helena. The phantoms of the night have spooked her. Stories about town are that the ancient house is haunted. But Ana didn’t need anyone to tell her that. She knows it’s haunted. Because one of the haints is looking right at her. She doesn’t need anyone to tell her it’s haunted. She sees it. She sees an evil red-eyed man standing in the shadows under the ‘tree’ at night looking up at her window.

It’s the year of 2469, she thought the science folk’s things like that didn’t exist anymore. They were never real. They say it’s all superstition and anyone who believes it is plain stupid or suffering mental illness. People say the old people, a long time ago invented a bunch of things to scare you. They saw ghosts every where because back then, people didn’t have electricity nor nuclear energy to light up the nights. She knows they knew what they were talking about because she can see them and they can see her. Well, there goes one right now there under her window. Howling like a crazed banshee. But can a guy be a banshee? She guesses he can for that one definitely is one. He has been staring at her all night. His glowing red eyes tell her he’s evil and wants to kill her. She hugged her teddy bear closer and swallowed hard and does her usual stint when scared. Run and jump in the bed with her big sister’s and cover her head.
It was early October but still hot in the deep South. The three year old girl who shared a room with her older sister threw her doll down and bolts out the room. From the upstairs window, she saw her father driving the hover harvester out the field toward the storage. The straining sound of the engines’ gears shifting and clouds of tan hued dust signaled he was coming home. She was so excited she ignored her shoes and ran down stairs as fast as her skinny little legs could carry her. Her mother yelled from the kitchen telling her to stop running before she falls down the stairs again. But she knows she didn’t fall the first time. Something or someone pushed her. But she obeyed and slowed down, holding onto the years of hand gliding over them smoothed rails. Her brother Jack was already outside running ahead of her. He would get picked up first and tossed in the air. She liked to reach dad first after he debunked from the cabin of the harvester and be the first one Daddy picked up and tossed in the air.

Finally making it outside pass the squeaky screen door as quiet as possible; crossing the wide, hot porch to the steep steps as carefully as doable, she picked up speed when she was one step from the last step and leapt to the ground and hit it running. She was flying around the corner of the large antebellum southern house in a patch of cool grass on the west side of the house; a rare find on a hot Fall day. She slowed up a little as she passed the knobby, thick grey barked ancient fir tree she detested. She doesn’t know why but she hates that cursed tree.

Turning her mind back to the task at her, she saw her brother up ahead. She sprint across the yard toward the harvester. Jack was older, he could run faster but she was gaining on him.

The hired farm workers and her father were harvesting for the market at the end of the harvest season. The bright, hot sun beat down on her dark bronze skin, drawing tiny beads of sweat from her smooth forehead and determined upper lip. She is a beautiful child from what she heard the adult say when they weren’t looking at her like she was a new bug specimen they had never seen before. She raced passed her parents cars. Jack was two years older, he could run faster but she was gaining on him. If only she pushed herself harder she believes she can catch and pass him. With her two auburn pigtails sailing behind her she pumps her little legs harder.

She abruptly stops. Her dark amber eyes rose with the levitating of the pitchfork that appeared before her. A very angry man is holding it. His top lip is curled and snarling like an angry dog. At least she thinks it’s a man?? Where did he come from? In an instant, she saw her very young life flashed before her eyes as the man pitched the fork at her. It moved faster than she could see. Headed, flying straight for her face. It moves so fast her reflex to shield her tiny face is futile. Suddenly a hand reached out of a blinding light on her right and quickly knocked the fork downward, toward the ground. It impaled her foot instead of her head as intended. The man from nowhere glowered at her as she screamed loud enough to startle the dining crows still out in the pasture. Her eyes widen with fear when she looked down and saw blood gushing from her foot. She tried to pull pitchfork out of her foot, out of the ground but couldn’t. She was feeling dizzy from the heat and mounting fear. She could feel her panic escalating. “If I don’t get my foot free he’ll kill me.” She thinks, sobbing and pulling the handle with all her might. The light is standing between him and her but she can still sense him watching her. Watching her with a burning hate hotter than the sun beating down on her well-oiled headed. Her heart is beating a hundred pulse per second. She knows this thing wanted to kill her but why? What have she done to him?

“Baby, leave it alone.” She heard her father’s voice say. It sounded like he was speaking to her from a long dark tunnel. The hot sun was making her feel worse. She didn’t know when her mother came out nor, when her dad reached her but when her vision was clear again her mom was on the ground with her. She was sitting in her lap and her dad kneeling in front of her slowly removing the fork. The workers and her siblings were standing around, all wearing worried expressions.

Once it was out and her mother was carrying her to the car, Jacob BuFaye turned and angrily asked the hired farm workers who left the damn pitchfork in a place where the baby should step on it? But everyone swore no one left any tools out.

From the front seat of their teal green family car with blood all over the floor mat Ana sat patiently as her mother used a tubal skin draft solution to curb the bleeding until they reached the hospital. “Daddy, no one left it out.” she said from inside the car. “The pitchfork appeared out the thin air and a strange man threw the it at me and another strange person made of light blocked it.” She felt she needed to tell exactly what happened. She felt sorry and bad for the men whom her father was angry at. Falsely believing they somehow hurt her. She believed telling the truth would rectify the accusation.

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Going Home-The Novel

Someone asked did I have any novels that wasn’t scary, no one dies nor the bogeyman jumps out the closet? LOL! I am laughing because I found her facial expression funny. Anyway the person who asked was a friend of mines’. I know she’s going to get even with me for laughing.


Going Home is a novel set in the turbulent times of the early 1960’s where a young woman decides she have had enough of the fast pace life in the big city and returns to her roots.

Book Cover complete and authored ebook


This one will perhaps be out by next year.

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Happy Father’s Day

Happy Father's Day

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Phyllis Wheatly: A Paragon of Literature

   I find the writings of Phillis Wheatley a paragon of literature due to the obstacles she over came to write. Many praises the privileged poets and their poetry.  Eventhus, I, myself admire a few but I see it as rather easy to pen your thoughts without the threats of cruelty hanging over your head daily.  For one so young to overcome the atrociousness and the cruelty of slavery and write such interesting work is astonishing which is why I call her a paragon of literature.

It’s little wonder she survived the Middle Passage being so young when she was kidnapped.

Although, her literature was all written before the law was passed making it a crime punishable by death to teach a slave to read and write.

I think she is an paragon of literature and what one can do if given a chance. She wrote beautiful work at a time of one history’s darkest hours.

Phillis Wheatley was the first African American, the first slave, and the third woman in the United States to publish a book of poems Having been kidnapped from West Africa and enslaved, Phillis Wheatley became the first African American and one of the first women to publish a book of poetry in the colonies, doing so in 1773.

“Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, Taught my benighted soul to understand, That there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too: Once I redemption neither sought nor knew. Some view our sable race with scornful eye, “Their color is a diabolic die.”
—Phillis Wheatley

Born in Senegal/Gambia in about 1753, poet Phillis Wheatley was brought to Boston, Massachusetts, on a slave ship in 1761 and was purchased by John Wheatley as a personal servant to his wife. The Wheatleys educated Phillis and she soon mastered Latin and Greek, going on to write highly acclaimed poetry. She published her first poem in 1767 and her first volume of verse, Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral, in 1773. Having been freed from slavery, she later married and struggled financially, with Wheatley unable to find a publisher for her second volume of poems.

She is considered a pioneering African-American poet, she was born in Senegal /Gambia @ 1753. At the age of 8, she was kidnapped and brought to Boston on a slave ship. Upon her arrival, John Wheatley purchased the young girl, who was in fragile health, as a servant for his wife, Susanna.

Under the family’s direction, Wheatley (who, as was the custom at the time, adopted her master’s last name) was taken under Susanna’s wing. Her quick intelligence was hard to miss, and as a result, Susanna and her two children taught Wheatley to read and was actively encouraged in her literary pursuits by the household.

Wheatley received lessons in theology, English, Latin and Greek. Ancient history was soon folded into the teachings, as were lessons in mythology and literature. At a time when African Americans were discouraged and intimidated from learning how to read and write, Wheatley’s life was an anomaly.

Wheatley wrote her first published poem at around age 13. The work, a story about two men who nearly drown at sea, was printed in the Newport Mercury. Other published poems followed, with several also being published, further increasing Wheatley’s fame.

In 1773, Wheatley gained considerable stature when her first and only book of verse, Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral, was published, with the writer having received patronage from Selina Hastings, the Countess of Huntingdon, in England. As proof of her authorship, the volume included a preface in which 17 Boston men, including John Hancock, asserted that she had indeed written the poems in it.

Poems on Various Subjects is a landmark achievement in U.S. history. In publishing it, Wheatley became the first African American and first U.S. slave to publish a book of poems, as well as the third American woman to do so.

A strong supporter of America’s fight for independence, Wheatley penned several poems in honor of the Continental Army’s commander, George Washington. Wheatley sent one of said works, written in 1775, to the future president, eventually inspiring an invitation to visit him at his headquarters in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Wheatley accepted the offer and visited Washington in March of 1776.

Struggles in Later Life

Wheatley had traveled to London to promote her poems and received medical treatment for a health ailment that she had been battling. After her return to Boston, Wheatley’s life changed significantly. While ultimately freed from slavery, she was devastated by the deaths of several Wheatley family members, including Susanna (d. 1774) and John (d. 1778).

In 1778, Wheatley married a free African American from Boston, John Peters, with whom she had three children, all of whom died in infancy. Their marriage proved to be a struggle, with the couple battling constant poverty. Ultimately, Wheatley was forced to find work as a maid in a boarding house and lived in squalid, horrifying conditions.

Wheatley did continue to write, but the growing tensions with the British and, ultimately, the Revolutionary War, weakened enthusiasm for her poems. While she contacted various publishers, she was unsuccessful in finding support for a second volume of poetry.

Phillis Wheatley died in her early 30s in Boston, Massachusetts, on December 5, 1784.


American poet
Phillis Wheatley, also spelled Phyllis and Wheatly was the first published African-American female poet. Born in West Africa, she was sold into slavery at the age of seven or eight and transported to North America. Wikipedia
Born: May 8, 1753, West Africa
Died: December 5, 1784, Boston, MA
Spouse: John Peters (m. 1778–1784)
Children: Three


via Daily Prompt: Paragon

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Poetry by Lillian Kwok

Prose poetry by Lillian Kwok: “At the lake we begin like birds, sitting on the water cross-legged. Until our hearts grow bolder and we walk on water.”

via Arabesque No. 1 — Discover

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What are you reading this summer?

Along with many other indie authors’ books I picked up an author I normally do not read.   I haven’t read a Harlequin book in years. Frankly, not since I was a teenager. A

friend recommended Brenda Novak’sFinding our forever “Find our Forever.”

Like I once said I’m not stuck on one particular genre. Sure, there are some I like better than others.


I have already started on

The Marsh King’s Daughter

by Karen Dionne

Of course, I will be an any other author; reading my own books for the summer. Yes, most authors reads their own books.

Reading  is how I plan stay out the summer heat.


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Ways to avoid heat exhaustion.

Way to avoid heat exhaustion

I know everyone is happy that summer is near.  June 21, 2017 is the first day of summer. But for those of us who live in normally cold climates the first few heat waves can be a brutal.  Since the days of global warming we must take measures to ensure safety that wasn’t a big issue years ago. A rotor fan used to all needed to keep cool during the summer but nowadays a fan powerful enough blow you down would do little, next to nothing in keeping you cool.

Don’t forget your pets when thinking of heat exhaustion. Never leave one in a car even with the window down or A.C. Some cars automatically shuts off if overheated.

Besides a day at the beach or lakeside, here are other ways according to the Mayo Clinic to deal with avoiding heat exhaustion which can be dangerous and even fatal.

You can take a number of precautions to prevent heat exhaustion and other heat-related illnesses. When temperatures climb, remember to:

Wear loosefitting, lightweight, light-colored clothing. Excess, dark or tight clothing holds in heat and doesn’t let your body cool properly because it inhibits sweat evaporation.

Avoid sunburn. If you’re going to be outdoors, wear a lightweight, wide-brimmed hat or use an umbrella to protect yourself from the sun, and apply sunscreen to any exposed skin. Having a sunburn reduces your body’s ability to rid itself of heat.

Seek a cooler place. Being in an air-conditioned building, even for just a few hours, is one of the best ways to prevent heat exhaustion. If your home doesn’t have an air conditioner, consider spending time at a library or shopping mall. At the very least, find a well-shaded spot. Fans alone aren’t adequate to counter high heat and humidity.

Drink plenty of fluids. Staying hydrated will help your body sweat and maintain a normal body temperature. If your doctor has told you to limit fluids because of a health condition, be sure to check with him or her about how much extra you need to drink when the temperature rises. Avoid alcoholic beverages.

Take extra precautions with certain medications. Ask your doctor or pharmacist whether the medications you take make you more susceptible to heat exhaustion and, if so, what you can do to keep your body from overheating.

Avoid hot spots. On a hot day, the temperature in your parked car can rise 20 F (11 C) in just 10 minutes. Let your car cool off before you drive it. Never leave children or anyone else in a parked car in hot weather for any period of time.

Let your body acclimate to the heat. If you travel to somewhere hot, or the temperatures suddenly jump in your area, it can take several weeks for your body to get used to the heat. You’ll still need to take precautions, but working or exercising in heat should become more tolerable. If you’re on vacation, you probably don’t have several weeks to wait, but it’s a good idea to wait at least a few days before attempting vigorous activity in the heat.

It’s best not to exercise or do any strenuous activity in hot weather, but if you must, follow the same precautions and rest frequently in a cool spot. Taking breaks and replenishing your fluids during that time will help your body regulate your temperature.

People with certain medical conditions could always stay within coolness. The link above discuss which conditions excess heat worsen.

Many cities have safe spots during the heatwave days. In many cities this means any place of business must allow people inside to cool down during the dangerous hours rather they are a customer or not. Boston was under heat advisory last week and so were New York City.


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Lie versus Truth

The one who speaks truth is rarely believed while the one who speaks a lie is always believed.~ A. White


truth vs lie

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Morning Glory and Baby Breath in back yard

The Morning Glory in my back yard are beautiful to watch in the early dawn hours when they are opened. I believe someone had a flower garden back there years ago for every year different flowers comes up without my attending them. I recently discovered the Baby Breath among the wild roses and morning glory.


Morning Glory

Baby Breath

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