Past decisions don't always stay in the past, and it isn't always your past that you have to worry about.What would I say if I could speak to them now? Perhaps these two poems , which are straight from my heart.I wish I had had the awareness of what they did for me when they were still here, but in my faith I believe they can see what I've now written.Please, feel free to ponder these free poems, and imagine what you would say to the people who raised you up. Enjoy, and let me know if you liked them.

A dream is something that you must go after, and never give up on. DReam chose to follow her seams no matter what obstacles she faced during the way.The story centers around a lost girl who only outlet is music. Her talents she keeps hidden because she stays to herself. Left to be raised by her grandmother. She is teased by other relatives. There is a contest for writers and producers looking for new talent. She wants to enter but is mis informed about the qualifications to do so. After realizing she was mis informed she sets out to win the contest no matter what it takes.

Short story about a woman and her two companions who live at a hotel for transients.Introducing Advanced Smash Repairs.Spillage is the first tale in a quirky six-part series about a smash repair business that knows too much. Craig runs a small workshop, and with the help of his staff – lead mechanic Pavel, apprentice Clint and the enigmatic test driver Boris – he fixes cars in unconventional ways, and in the process ends up solving a few mysteries along the way. A damaged and mysterious BMW and an over-enthusiastic ex-customer challenge Craig’s patience and skill in a tough week at Advanced Smash Repairs "Spillage was a great short read with excellent, believable characters." "A brave change of pace that just . . . worked. And worked well." "The smell of oil, grease and fun from the cars and the garage workshop got me hooked. A great read."

Amanda Watson, a private detective, is as dedicated to her work as one can be. It is not just a job for her but her passion to find the missing clues and pieces to solve the mysteries presented to her. There may be hurdles in her way but she has always believed that if one is determined enough, one can even reach beyond the skies.There was a time when writing a short story was an art form. The novella reigned queen and “novels” were published in serial form. Books were expensive back then, but the printing of pamphlets was cheap enough to mass-produce. Many of our most beloved classic authors flourished under these circumstances.What was old is new again. Today, the ability to read in digital format is becoming ubiquitous. eReaders are more affordable and other devices such as smart phones are now commonly used as readers, too. However, books in eFormat are steadily becoming more expensive. Perhaps it is time to walk in the footsteps of the masters. Go to Sleepy Little Baby is the second short story in the Odd Socks series of “ePamphlets.” Lilah is what some would generously call, “unbalanced.” She’s reliant on routine and little orange pills to maintain control. Compliance is mandatory and the scales slip precariously when life’s reality interrupts.

52 poems about life, love, death, history, and the beings we share the planet with.Metal Fatigue is an anthology of stories relating to prison, incarceration, hopelessness and hope. These are largely first person accounts of survival behind bars and give a visceral look at what it means to do time. The stories present a critical look at the prison system and the stats for those held behind bars. A child lost to the system, a father’s plea for reconnection.EXCERPT:Jimmy passed his eighteenth birthday locked inside a cold, stinky cell in the obsolete old city jail. The toilet obviously didn’t work, an issue probably for several years… running.He thoughtfully reflected on his dry-humor pun. Besides, no one locked up ever flushes the motherfucking john. Never. Revoltingly putrid fecal matter, left in desperation by prisoners with nowhere else to go, overflowed and formed a vile puddle at a low spot in the frigid concrete floor. The prison smelled like shit. Smelled worse than shit. His own more recent addition was beginning to decay.If Jimmy had been home for his birthday, no doubt his father would’ve treated him to a steak dinner at The Outback; and perhaps a ballgame at the stadium afterword. Instead, Jimmy celebrated with foul-tasting water—grey water reprocessed from sewer waste—and several slices of stale bread upon which a near-microscopic dab of something resembling peanut-butter could be found sticking near the center—if one studied it closely, of course. The rancid bread was always stale in this place, just like the air, thick with mildew and the smell of unwashed bodies. It all mixed with the reeking toilet to produce an odor more disgusting than sweaty armpit pubes set on a smoldering fire.Tonight, for the most part, a stifling quiet lingered throughout the cellblock. The only sounds being the incidental shout of a guard, the muffled moan from a prisoner, or the occasional fart from either. Every so often, a cell door clanked open, followed by scuffling noises signaling a new prisoner’s arrival.Two weeks forever, he’d sat there in solitary now. But he still wasn’t so desperate as other prisoners on the cellblock who would actually shit themselves just for a laugh. Two weeks plus three lonely days, he reminded himself, marking off another day on the wall with the sharp edge of a small stone, chipped away from a section of rotting-old concrete. He made the mark with an awkward jab of his left hand. His right arm hung broken, suspended in a dirty sling he’d torn from an old rag.Sinking down onto the cold concrete slab that served as a bed, Jimmy leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes. He figured it might be nine o’clock… or thereabout, although he really couldn’t be sure. Maybe ten. His watch had disappeared on intake at R&D receiving the first day, along with all his other personal effects… confiscated for “purposes of security” by the prison R&D guards. Problem was, they’d never listed his expensive Rolex watch on that property receipt they’d forced him to sign under the threat of tossing him in solitary stripped naked.Any questions about time, or anything, for that matter, brought only taunts and trouble from the guards. Especially the big one called ‘Boiler Bob’—so named by the prisoners for those angry-looking boils in evidence on the back and both sides of his incredibly thick neck.“What’s time to a prison roach?” Boiler Bob would mock, his furry broken teeth bared in a cruel laugh. “Hah, I know! I bet you’re impatient for your next fine meal… is that it?” Invariably he and the other guards goaded the prisoners about the food: food so foul even the cockroaches all passed around it in wide arcs.

After reading a few outstanding books on Taoist immortals over the years in the midst of other things, I had just moved to a new place with access to a backyard. I ended up getting myself an alchemy starter kit at Home Depot, and started communicating with the universe; I met the sun and moon, and developed a ritual, “clever and lofty”, and I’ve explained it here.After reading a few outstanding books on Taoist immortals over the years in the midst of other things, I had just moved to a new place with access to a backyard. I ended up getting myself an alchemy starter kit at Home Depot, and started communicating with the universe; I met the sun and moon, and developed a ritual, “clever and lofty”, and I’ve explained it here.Ge Hong, and Han Xiangzi: they let you make your own theories as you go through their various stories; they make no effort to preach but you end up making connections between what methods the various people used and how effective and powerful their transformation was, and you might want to be creative after that study and go invent your own method, after they’ve made you such an expert on what works, supposedly.You come up with your own theory on how you might go about this wild pursuit of “living as long as heaven and earth”, like it's a game, let's see who's ritual is most effective, whose liturgy attracts the attention and beneficence of the heaven.Taoism is a very do-it-yourself religion, the old ways only a learning trove of what might work, what's worked for others, while you twist and turn in the Way and speculate on the universe for yourself; a ritual, they said, need only be clever and lofty; there’s no pope of Taoism sending out letters of ex communication for false beliefs, or for heretical actions; they pretty much encourage that stuff.I set aside the “Ge Hong” ideas about alchemy for a few years, but then just recently I read Han Xiangzi, and I started speculating again. Fortunately this speculation led me not to consume poisons like Ge Hong’s characters, but to set up a tripod, a communication between heaven and earth. I invented my own little Taoist immortalism plot, a plan where I am initiating a 101 year study, clinical trial for mankind and the universe around him, plangence of the dark cores study, levels and depths of human kindness study, and magical Taoist ritual for the gathering, storage, and ritualistic release of chi, cosmic energy.It’s Chan or Zen Buddhism, it’s Taoist alchemy, it's Aztec Nagualism, it's an astrology updated to the modern age of cosmology and astrophysics, where all those things intersect.So I've invented an irrational little religious ritual for myself, and presented it here - a River-of- Heaven open-topped ferry-ride, all mystery and wonder.

In Summer 2015 the Liberties Festival Dublin held its very first flash fiction competition. Writers were asked for their best short short works on the theme ‘Liberties’ - both the concept of liberties and the Liberties area of Dublin, Ireland. This collection showcases the finest entries received as well as the winning entries by Mark Jenkins and Gary J Byrnes.In Summer 2015 the Liberties Festival Dublin held its very first flash fiction competition. Writers were asked for their best short short works on the theme ‘Liberties’ - both the concept of liberties and the Liberties area of Dublin, Ireland. This collection showcases the finest entries received as well as the winning entries by Mark Jenkins and Gary J Byrnes.The area known as The Liberties is the south-west part of Dublin’s inner city – approximately west of Aungier Street and south of the River Liffey – predominately in Dublin 8. Steeped in history, its name originated with the arrival in the 12th century of the Anglo-Normans who titled jurisdictions united to the city but outside the boundaries of its walls as ‘Liberties’. Two of the most important were the Liberty of St. Sepulchre (under the Archbishop of Dublin) and the Liberty of Thomas Court and Donore (under the Abbey of St. Thomas, later the Earl of Meath’s Liberty). For supporting the ruler, these Liberties received privileges such as freedom from various taxes. Today’s Liberties area is made up of these two ancient Liberties.

Rembrandt is famous for his paintings but not many people know about his personal life. After his wife Saskia had died, his life became embroiled in relationships that would shock the world even today. This short story is about the other side of Rembrandt, that is documented, but few people know of. He was a great artist, but at the same time - a great criminal.Rembrandt is famous for his paintings but not many people know about his personal life. After his wife Saskia had died, his life became embroiled in relationships that would shock the world even today. This short story is about the other side of Rembrandt, that is documented, but few people know of. He was a great artist, but at the same time - a great criminal.In 2003 historian Hans Benting receives a manuscript written in ancient Dutch discovered in Rome at the sight of an old library. Amongst the text it makes reference to the house of 'lost souls'in an area in the heart of Amsterdam that still exists today.With the manuscript in hand, Hans tries to find the exact location and what it may reveal. He finally finds what he is looking for, but is shocked at revelations it brings.

After a startling incident, Uncle Sammy starts questioning Yoga. Pretending to help him, his spirit guide steps forward but leads him astray. He is almost mad when God intervenes.After Philip initiation to transcendental meditation has failed, Uncle Sammy starts digging after the truth behind yoga. As he begins his research, his spirit guide steps forward and offers his assistance. Instead of helping Uncle Sammy, we see an enamored spirit guide battling for keeping his dearest. The scenario unfolds between two worlds and ends abruptly. In the end, the question remains: Can a spirit guide lead his protégé in the truth?Inspired by true stories, the text is a literary creation. The intention of the story is to help the reader criticize his own spiritual choices. Unless someone walks with Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit, business with an unknown spirit guide is a suicidal risk.With Jesus Christ, the disciple is granted the promise of Eternal Life in the presence of Christ his Master. With the spirit guide, the disciple has the promise that he will finally be merged with god. But victims of Esotericism are numerous and the evidences show that spirit guides are stealers of the mind and of the soul of the naïve devotees!While Jesus Christ offers life in abundance, The Eastern Science devours life with full consent of the follower. The Spirit of Jesus gives a glorious life as the disciple obeys the sound doctrine of the Bible. Meanwhile, the spirit guide parasites life through principles cleverly ciphered. What can you say of your experience? Is the question asked to the reader at the end.

Cinderella never had to deal with this crap. Jane isn't entirely sure that Cinderella got such a raw deal. Sure, she had a rough start, but didn't she eventually land a prince and a happily-ever-after? Meanwhile, Jane is busy waiting on her demanding, entitled sisters, running her cleaning business, and . . . yep, not a prince in sight. Until a party and a broken shoe incident leave Jane wondering if princes---or at least, a certain deliciously hunky billionaire---maybe do exist. Except Brock Wellington isn't anyone's dream guy. Hell, a prince would never agree to be auctioned off in marriage to the highest bidder. Or act like an arrogant jerk---even if it was just a façade. Now, as Brock is waiting for the auction chopping block, he figures it's karmic retribution that he's tempted by a sexy, sassy woman he can't have. But while they can't have a fairy-tale ending, maybe they can indulge in a little bit of fantasy . .

From the Pulitzer Prize–winning author of Lonesome Dove comes the novel that became the basis for the film Hud, starring Paul Newman. In classic Western style Larry McMurtry illustrates the timeless conflict between the modernity and the Old West through the eyes of Texas cattlemen. Horseman, Pass By tells the story of Homer Bannon, an old-time cattleman who epitomizes the frontier values of honesty and decency, and Hud, his unscrupulous stepson. Caught in the middle is the narrator, Homer's young grandson Lonnie, who is as much drawn to his grandfather’s strength of character as he is to Hud's hedonism and materialism. When first published in 1961, Horseman, Pass By caused a sensation in Texas literary circles for its stark, realistic portrayal of the struggles of a changing West in the years following World War II. Never before had a writer managed to encapsulate its environment with such unsentimental realism. Today, memorable characters, powerful themes, and illuminating detail make Horseman, Pass By vintage McMurtry.

You put together two things that have not been put together before. And the world is changed… In Levels of Life Julian Barnes gives us Nadar, the pioneer balloonist and aerial photographer; he gives us Colonel Fred Burnaby, reluctant adorer of the extravagant Sarah Bernhardt; then, finally, he gives us the story of his own grief, unflinchingly observed. This is a book of intense honesty and insight; it is at once a celebration of love and a profound examination of sorrow.

In this debut work by New York Times-bestselling author Paul Auster (The New York Trilogy), The Invention of Solitude, a memoir, established Auster’s reputation as a major new voice in American writing. His moving and personal meditation on fatherhood is split into two stylistically separate sections. In the first, Auster reflects on the memories of his father who was a distant, undemonstrative, and cold man who died an untimely death. As he sifts through his Father’s things, Auster uncovers a sixty-year-old murder mystery that sheds light on his father’s elusive character. In the second section, the perspective shifts and Auster begins to reflect on his own identity as a father by adopting the voice of a narrator, “A.” Through a mosaic of images, coincidences, and associations “A,” contemplates his separation from his son, his dying grandfather, turning the story into a self-conscious reflection on the process of writing.

Alamut takes place in 11th Century Persia, in the fortress of Alamut, where self-proclaimed prophet Hasan ibn Sabbah is setting up his mad but brilliant plan to rule the region with a handful elite fighters who are to become his "living daggers." By creating a virtual paradise at Alamut, filled with beautiful women, lush gardens, wine and hashish, Sabbah is able to convince his young fighters that they can reach paradise if they follow his commands. With parallels to Osama bin Laden, Alamut tells the story of how Sabbah was able to instill fear into the ruling class by creating a small army of devotees who were willing to kill, and be killed, in order to achieve paradise. Believing in the supreme Ismaili motto “Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” Sabbah wanted to “experiment” with how far he could manipulate religious devotion for his own political gain through appealing to what he called the stupidity and gullibility of people and their passion for pleasure and selfish desires. The novel focuses on Sabbah as he unveils his plan to his inner circle, and on two of his young followers — the beautiful slave girl Halima, who has come to Alamut to join Sabbah's paradise on earth, and young ibn Tahir, Sabbah's most gifted fighter. As both Halima and ibn Tahir become disillusioned with Sabbah's vision, their lives take unexpected turns. Alamut was originally written in 1938 as an allegory to Mussolini's fascist state. In the 1960's it became a cult favorite throughout Tito's Yugoslavia, and in the 1990s, during the Balkan's War, it was read as an allegory of the region's strife and became a bestseller in Germany, France and Spain. Following the attacks of September 11, 2001, the book once again took on a new life, selling more than 20,000 copies in a new Slovenian edition, and being translated around the world in more than 19 languages. This edition, translated by Michael Biggins, in the first-ever English translation.