The one writers conference I make a point to attend every year (not just because I’m the president) has ended and I am emerging from my post-conference coma. Pikes Peak Writers Conference 2025 was difficult in some ways and absolutely amazing in others. We had some people with loved ones in hospice or who had lost loved ones in the time immediately before or during conference. They were such troopers and they found themselves surrounded by the love and support of 200+ peers even if those peers didn’t know what was going on because PPWC has something unique and amazing that you can’t get at any other conference. There is an open, friendly, and supportive atmosphere that permeates every corner of every space we occupy in the hotel.
As president, my primary goal is to shake the hand of every attendee and help them understand that we are there to help and no questions is silly. You know you’re fulfilling your mission when you get feedback like “The level of positive support from everyone is simply unreal – Kudos to you all!” and “I’ve never felt more seen and supported as a writer!”
The level of positive support from everyone is simply unreal–kudos to you all! – PPWC2025 Attendee “I’ve never felt more seen and supported as a writer! – PPWC2025 Attendee
Our keynote speakers were simply fabulous. USA Today bestselling author Avery Flynn put all the feels into her Friday welcome lunch keynote. New York Times bestselling author John Gilstrap reminded us that life is too short to squander the gift and talent we’ve been given in his Saturday night banquet dinner keynote. David R. Slayton gave a moving keynote at the farewell lunch about what it means to be a writer. In addition, all of our keynotes and our featured writers, Ricaro Fayette of Reedsy and the charming, award-winning kids and teen author Alexandra Diaz participated in a lively trivia game about one another during Saturday lunch in the Featured Authors versus Keynote Speakers game show. I had the change to have a meal each with Ricardo and Alexandra. Ricardo is one of the founders of Reedsy. He’s a calm and soft-spoken guy with an easygoing nature and deep marketing knowledge. Alexandra’s boundless love for writing colored most of our conversation and it was glorious.
Thank you to the amazing people who put together and presented a total of over 60 workshops at this year’s conference. These workshops are labors of love. No honorarium could cover that. The initial feedback has been overwhelmingly warm and positive. One of my own workshops garnered the attention of a college-level writing teacher who wants to add some of my material to his classes. You can’t see it, but my jaw just dropped again just writing about it. Especially because it was my first workshop given at conference to an unexpectedly standing-room-only room for a very niche topic.
There was a very dramatic moment where I misplaced my clicker and I briefly spun out. But I made myself go down for breakfast because I wanted to check on someone I knew was having a difficult time and that gave me the reset to go back to room and immediately find it right where I had put it but couldn’t see before. Has that ever happened to you?
Thanks to all the PPW staff that works tirelessly behind the scenes. Your ability to stay calm in the face of any degree of problem, remain professional, and to pivot to find the best answer in a flash is amazing! It was a privilege to watch you work. Thank you to the Author, Author bookstore who runs our conference bookstore.
The staff at the DoubleTree hotel in Colorado Springs worked hard to make sure everyone at our event got what they needed. Not a small feat. Special shoutout to the front desk, banquet staff, and bartenders (especially when 200+ people descend on the bar for barcon on Saturday night). Shoutout to Annie, Frank, Christina, Oznur, Jose, Angelica, Melissa, Natalie, Promise, Karla, Santana, Anthony, Kathena, Kacee, Genesis, Amanda S, Eric, Josselyn, Sambiri, Caden, JJ, Juliana, Chazlin, “Martini” and anyone else whose name we didn’t manage to capture. Thanks for looking after us.
Thank you to my amazing support group of one at home, my amazing husband, August, who brought me stuff I forgot; acted as chauffer, driving agents and editors back and forth from the airport, brought our dogs in for dog therapy on Saturday afternoon, and rearranged his tight schedule to help us out with a snafu at our storage unit. You are fantastic. I love you.
Next year’s conference is April 16-19. Saddle up and write with us! Keynote speakers include Mary Robinette Kowal,Marc Guggenheim, and Reavis Z. Wortham. Registration opens November 1, 2025! I’d love to see you there.
If you attended Pikes Peak Writers Conference 2025, please tell me about your experience in the comments. Thanks!
What’s happening in the US is a symptom of a bigger issue. Humans are, for the most part, selfish and warlike beings. Seriously, we are. Here me out.
Until we can figure out how to find the balance between humanitarianism, stewardship of our planet, and fulfillment of our individual dreams we will continue to careen toward ruin. We are fast-approaching the point of no return. I’m not trying to be an alarmist. I believe we can still pull out of the nose dive, but we need to act now and continue acting.
What are we supposed to do, you ask? Let’s break it down. Protests, phone calls, and emails are all well and good. We need to tell our leaders who represent us on a macro level what we will and won’t tolerate and what they should be working on; but we need to do more. Well, here’s some ideas. Let me know if you have more.
Humanitarianism
Be kind and Compassionate to your fellow humans.
One of my friends organizes a collection of hundreds of back-to-school packs for kids in need.
Another helps run a food pantry (one that has not qualification process, requires no ID, and never judges).
Or, maybe your work is on a smaller level like sharing your garden harvest with your neighbors, taking food to the person next door who is recently widowed or recovering from illness or surgery.
Find out which classroom supplies your kid’s’ teacher is short on and donate some.
Donate money to organization that help those in need like Care and Share or your local homeless shelters. Incidentally, food banks can use your money way better than the expired canned goods you just donated.
We should care for each other as we would ourselves. Machiavellian philosophy and practices have no place in the modern world. If we want to survive as a species we need to work together. That’s the way it’s always been. After all, we’re all just walking each other home.
Stewardship Campers rule: Always pack out what you packed in and leave things better than you found them. It applies to little campsites and the entire planet. Think about it. It’s that simple.
Individual Dreams
We all have dreams and aspirations. Our dreams and aspirations are as varied as the humans who people the planet. Joseph Campbell said,
“Follow your bliss. If you do follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while waiting for you, and the life you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and they open the doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don’t be afraid, and doors will open where you didn’t know they were going to be. If you follow your bliss, doors will open for you that wouldn’t have opened for anyone else.”
Dreams and aspirations are important. Don’t be afraid to manifest yours. Sure, you’ll probably stumble a few times. But there are great people on big stages and tiny ones making a difference in the world every day by living their dreams and doing what they love.
But what about the people out there that are hurting, in need, downtrodden? Those who have no resources?
My friends, I’ve been there. In some ways I’m still there and in some ways I’m not. Here’s the thing, you’ll find that the people in the most need are often the people who are fully willing to share what little they have. But here’s the thing, those hurting, in need, and downtrodden are the very ones we should be supporting. Let’s not let the current US administration and state of the world make us forget what’s really important. Meanwhile, to the rest of the planet, please give us some grace while we fix this stuff.
I’m so happy and proud to introduce Pikes Peak Writers fourth anthology, The Other Side of the Mountain. I had the honor of being the project manager for this anthology. I had the pleasure or working with a bunch of talented writers, three editors with superb insight, a fabulous book cover designer, and a formatter whose attention to detail and responsiveness was above and beyond. Working with New York Times bestselling author, our marquee author, Jonathan Maberry was a special honor. I learned a lot from this guy.
Mountains take many forms, from physical to metaphorical. Sooner or later and more often than not, we all come upon some kind of mountain. Maybe you’re an aviator facing an unusual test. Can you see the portal and do you know where it leads? Maybe you’re a hiker facing a monstrous decision. Maybe danger erupts during your mining expedition. Did someone say treasure? Are we all just walking each other home? Do you hear singing? Could healing come from facing your biggest fear? What is “The Pocket Lips” and how do you stop it? The answers to these questions and much more await you within these pages including an incredible, brand-new story by New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Maberry.
Come take a walk on The Other Side of the Mountain. We promise you’ll return safely…ish.
Special thanks to: Deborah Brewer – Editor Sam Knight – Editor Eric Stallsworth – Copy Editor Joshua Clark – Cover Design Pam McCutcheon – Interior Design
This is not a food blog, but I do, on occasion, post something I find particularly useful or yummy. Cowboy caviar fits the bill. It’s fast, easy, versatile, and most important of all, tasty!
Look at all that color! Do you know what lots of color means? That’s right! Nutrition! Plus you get a major protein boost. Here’s the basic recipe:
Ingredients 1 15oz can black beans (drained and rinsed) 1 15oz can blackeyed peas (drained and rinsed) 1 15oz can sweet corn (drained and rinsed) 1 red pepper (chopped) 1 orange pepper (chopped) 1/2 red onion (chopped)
For Dressing 1/4 cup chopped cilantro (or Italian parsley if cilantro isn’t your thing) 1tsp chili powder 1tsp garlic powder (I use dried minced garlic) 1/4tsp pepper A Pinch of salt 1/3 cup good Italian dressing (I use Ken’s Steakhouse)
Optional ingredients could be chopped tomato, chopped avocado, chopped olives, it’s kind of like pasta salad because the beans don’t carry much flavor on their own but are fabulous when mixed with other things. If you want a little more heat add a pinch of cayenne or to your taste. You do you.
Instructions Does that seem like a lot of ingredients? Don’t worry, this comes together in a snap. In measuring cup or small bowl, whisk together dressing ingredients and set aside. Have a milk frother? It’ll work splendidly on emulsifying a salad dressing.
Let your can opener know it’s going to get a little workout, open your canned goods, drain and rinse them, and dump them into a big bowl. Chop up your peppers, onion, and anything else you’ve added to a size that roughly matches the beans and corn. Give everything a good, but gentle toss.
Whisk your dressing one last time and pour over mixture. Gently toss again until you’re satisfied everything has been covered.
You can serve this immediately but I prefer to let it marinate in the fridge for an hour or so. Serve with sturdy, tasty corn chips. It’s dip, it’s a meal, it’s yummy! Enjoy!
You were thinking it’s something earth-shattering you could take to social media with, but it’s not “earth-shattering” (what does that really mean anyway). It is, however, great news and something I’d happily let you take to social media with.
Today I posted the cover reveal for a project I’ve been working on for two years for Pikes Peak Writers. Shadowing my predecessor, Kathie Scrimgeour, in the first and taking over as the project manager in the second. Today I posted a cover sneak peak of the fourth of the Pikes Peak Writers Anthologies on our social media channels. Cover designer Joshua Clark did and outstanding job with our cover along with highlighting the authors of the short stories and a special Monk Addison file by none other than amazing Jonathan Maberry.
Edited by the fabulously talented team of James Sams, an accomplished anthology publisher in his own right; Deborah Brewer, on anthology editorial team since the first PPW anthology with an eye on everything; and Eric Stallsworth, award-winning speculative fiction writer, with an eye for detail any copyeditor would envy; these editors helped our authors make their stories the best they could be.
All of our staff and authors are members of Pikes Peak Writers. The purpose of the anthology is two-fold, to give PPW members a place to shine and to help members who are new writers learn about the submission and publishing process in a safe and trusted environment, including some of the bumps and skips they may run into along the way. We are proud of all our anthology authors and look forward to seeing more great work from them in the future. We also commend all the writers who submitted for their courage. It’s a scary thing, putting your creations out into the world. Don’t stop!
A Little about Pikes Peak Writers
Pikes Peak Writers is an all-volunteer writers organization led by an all-volunteer board of directors on which I humbly serve as president in addition to a number of volunteer positions I currently cover. We are committed to helping writers grow and thrive through education, outreach, and community as stated in our mission statement. The Anthology is just one of the many ways we fulfill that mission. We also host several events on a monthly basis, run a regular writing blog, and put on a conference every spring. If you’re a writer, I would encourage you to check our PPW. I’m not just the president, I’m a member!
To learn more about membership and our monthly events visit our website at pikespeakwriters.org and to learn more about and register for our annual conference coming up May 2-4 please visit conference.pikespeakwriters.org.
Stay tuned for a future post with the full cover reveal and a list of our contributing authors!
It’s World Kindness Day and we’re warming up after a four-day snowstorm this past weekend here in Colorado Springs that eerily coincided with a tumultuous presidential election. The snow is almost gone. In my little world, the painful divisions of 2016 has once again ramped up. Family members are polarized to opposite sides of the political aisle. It’s a significantly painful division. If you don’t want to read my two cents. Feel free to scroll on, this is my space and I say want I want.
I don’t know if Kamala Harris would have been the ideal alternative, but she would have been the lesser evil, by far, to the president we have ended up with. Again.
Look, I’m a woman of a certain age. My childbearing years are behind me, yet I have reason to be concerned for not only myself, but for every U.S. female everywhere. Every U.S. citizen. I have friends that don’t fit “gender norms”. I have friends with kids who don’t fit “gender norms” and if you don’t think I won’t speak out for them, you are mistaken. I’ve read Project 2025. If you haven’t, if the nine hundred and twenty pages is too much for you, well then, it’s clear where your priorities lie and wow, good luck to future blindsided you.
I have been diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses. I have real reason for anxiety around pre-existing conditions and health insurance. Because my husband and I had to get our insurance from the marketplace this year I got a good look at how this could kill me. There are marked differences in pricing my part of the policy as opposed to my husband’s. He is healthy for the most part and only on one medication. I’m on a number of medications that make a feeble attempt at controlling the symptoms of the chronic illnesses I deal with. I’m financially penalized as if I developed these illnesses on purpose. So yeah. I’m concerned about who will occupy the White House.
I get platitudes from family members saying that the incoming Oval Office occupant “tends to exaggerate” or “pops off at the mouth sometimes” or “he doesn’t agree with Project2025 and he’s not really going to put it into action” WTAF?! We can already see that he’s working towards exactly that. I mean,
We have just elected a convicted felon to the highest office in the nation and that’s the best I can say about him. Those who voted for him, I’m baffled at how they were sucked in. He won this election with money and slick, unsubstantial but expensive, commercial culture campaigning. Most the the claims of which were just straight up false (ya know, just exaggerated a little). I mean, Pete Hegseth as defense secretary? Are you kidding me??? It’s just one example of the ridiculousness forming the future circus of our national government. He gave them the old razzle-dazzle and half the nation totally fell for it.
So, here’s my game plan. I will continue to be kind. I will continue to support those that will become more vulnerable than they already are wherever and however I can. I will continue to practice spirituality according to my own beliefs. I will continue to love. I will continue to be my own advocate in managing multiple chronic illnesses and my overall health. I will continue supporting writers and artists. I will continue writing. I will continue creating. I will continue to maintain the big fucking fence that allows my heart to remain open. I can’t guarantee I’ll always be kind or compassionate because sometimes circumstances call for something else, but I will continue with my game plan.
Most years there are ghost tours of the downtown area of my city of Colorado Springs like many other cities across the country. The stories told on these tours are sometimes true…and sometimes not. It’s up to the listener to decide. This, is a similar kind of story. Mind you steps when the veil is thin, you never know what trouble might blow in on the wind.
The public story of the Cascade Park Apartments is fairly well known. You can read it on the plaque in front of the building. But it isn’t the whole story. Benjamin Lefkowsky, who bought the house in 1922, was an avid follower of Aleister Crowley, infamous occultist, called “the wickedest man in the world” by the British press and self-proclaimed “beast 666”. Lefkowsky practiced the dark arts he learned from Crowley in his basement and other places around town and he had grand plans to make expansions to the building to accommodate his growing following.
Lefkowsky and his wife had just finished a Halloween Black Mass in the woods near their house. Upon returning home they found their twin daughters, Zorya and Morana, missing from their beds, favorite dolls and robes still there. All that was left of their nanny was a smeared trail of blood leading out the back door. Two tiny sets of red footprints trailed from there, around the corner of the house, and down the street before fading away to nothing. Official word said the girls ran away when their nanny fell victim to a hungry bear who broke into the kitchen for a snack. The unofficial word was lefkowsky’s otherworldly minions had escaped their bonds and exacted their infernal vengeance. Either way, no trace of the girls or their nanny was ever found.
Mrs. Lefkowsky, overcome by grief, committed suicide. The last known whereabouts of Benjamin Lefkowsky was Ridge Home State Hospital where he was placed in solitary confinement due to his effect on other patients who claimed that Lefkowsky got inside their heads, making them do bad things. Lefkowsky disappeared from his locked room two years later.
Today strange whispering and weird chanting can still be heard in the basement of the Cascade Apartments. Lights randomly blink on and off. Footsteps and children’s laughter are heard in the halls. Sometimes a weeping woman is seen moving down the building’s grand staircase. And residents, neighbors, and visitors have reported intense feelings of being watched in many areas of the building and the surrounding grounds where dark figures have been reported lurking at all hours only to disappear from plain sight when you look directly at them.
Disclaimer: Okay, before anyone gets their knickers in a bunch, this is totally a work of fiction, but it was fun, wasn’t it?
Karma and Bob 4ever A Gnome Adventure (based on a true story)
I watched the smarmy teenager in grungy clothes ooze down the street on his well-used skateboard. Dawn had just broken, but I was still awake. My morning was going pretty well until he spied us on the front porch. His eyes narrowed and a crooked grin split his pimply face as he looked at Bob, jumped off his board and flipped it up into his hand with the toe of his shoe.
He was bold. He strolled right up the drive like he owned the place, a menacing look on his face. I was terrified. I couldn’t move. I wanted to scream, kick the stupid kid, save my Bob, but I was frozen in place. I watched helplessly as the kid walked back down the drive, Bob swinging at the end of his arm in a grubby hand. Once back on the street he threw down his skateboard and jumped on it in one fluid motion.
Bob was gone! Just like that. I couldn’t do a thing about it. I couldn’t even blink. Bob’s denim overalls and blue gnome hat disappeared out of my sight long before the sound of the skateboard on the rough asphalt faded into the distance. Oooh! Someone was going to pay for this!
The humans arrived home shortly after Bob’s abduction. They fussed and complained about how they had just brought us out of storage, but they did nothing about trying to find him. They even joked that maybe Bob had run away. What was wrong with them? We’d enjoyed the free air for a grand total of two weeks to a month! We hadn’t even had the chance to take our first walk of the year.
Once night fell and the humans had gone to bed, the other gnomes gathered in small groups of two or three. I heard the murmurings and saw the sideways glances. Words like “crazy” and “there’ll be no livin’ with her now, not that there was before” floated to me on the evening breeze. Everyone on the street had seen what happened. A daddy long-legs crawled over my foot in a hurry. I was tempted to boot it, but that would have just been taking it out on the innocent.
The pink flamingos the neighbors across the street put out as a Halloween joke milled around in their own yard whispering Maker knows what. Except for one. The one with no legs and a neck that bent in a funny way. That flamingo had said the wrong thing at the wrong time and it took Bob and three other gnomes to pull me off of the stupid, mouthy thing. Lawn flamingos were huge gossips and that one learned not to talk behind my back the hard way.
Okay, so I had somewhat of a temper.
Just then, the giant toad that kept watch under the mailbox hopped over. My hands were balled up in fists my arms folded across my chest. Clearly, I was not interested in talking, but that never stopped Toad.
“You know, you’re going to have to simmer down if you expect anyone to help you.” Toad croaked.
I waved a cloud of gnats that had risen out of the grass and leaves, out of my face. I hated long summers. They meant more time in the box because the humans were enjoying the warm weather before fall and winter set in. “Who said I needed any help? Besides, these nitwits are mostly useless,” I said.
It was true. Most of the gnomes desperately needed painting and could hardly see because their eyes had faded away. Some only had the structural features of a face with almost no details at all, just a blank, white canvas. Creepy. The humans had repeatedly talked about repainting them, but hadn’t even so much as bought the paint.
“I guess you’re just lucky that way.” Croaked Toad, “You get to stay in storage and come out all pretty and pristine while the rest of us sit out here in the blazing sun, rain, snow, and wind losing our youthful paint jobs.”
“Whatever. You have no idea what’s it’s like to be stuck in a box eleven months out of the year!” And they wonder why I’m cranky?
I looked up at the stars and wondered if Bob could see them from wherever that kid had taken him. We should have run off when we had the chance. We would have been free and we’d still be together. I realized my thoughts were wandering when Toads voice drifted to me again.
“Oh well, when you’re ready to be reasonable, let me know.” And with that he hopped off and joined a group of gnomes near the bird bath.
Toad meant well, but there were things he didn’t know. I couldn’t afford to lose my cool in front of everyone. Things beyond my control happened when my emotions got the best of me. Like what happened to that stupid flamingo. There were things no one but Bob knew, no one but Bob understood.
So, I quietly slipped away while no one was looking mostly because I knew Toad would try to talk me out of it. I could do this on my own, right? I didn’t need a bunch of misfit, worn-out yard ornaments getting in my way. I had to get Bob back before the sun rose on the day after Halloween or I’d be put back in the box, all alone until next year with no hope of finding Bob.
I jogged down the street keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Lucky for me, I was a biker skeleton with ragged jeans and not those fluffy dresses the others wore. Just because it was nighttime didn’t mean that there weren’t people out and about. I heard teen boy voices and raucous laughter coming from a garage on the next block over. I turned the corner and followed the sounds.
I crept up to the open garage door. There were four of them including the hoodlum that stole Bob from me. There wasn’t much light, but I could see Bob and my heart broke. He was dangling from a rope tied around his neck and fastened a hook in the ceiling where it looked like a bicycle used to hang. Somehow, he managed an undetected wink at me just before one of the kids threw the last of a slushy at him. The slushy splashed all over poor Bob and the garage floor and those nasty kids thought it was hilarious.
I was not amused.
Bob twisted on the end of the rope and when I saw his face again, I nearly cried. He looked resolute, like he expected me to just leave him there. I made a move to enter the garage and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. The kids wouldn’t have caught it because they were too busy laughing and making fun of each other.
Just then one of the kids yelled “Hey! What’s that?”
He was looking directly at me. I panicked and made a run for it. The others came running to the doorway.
“It’s just a raccoon.” Said the thief.
“No man, it looked like…”
That was the last thing I heard because I wasn’t listening anymore. They had left the garage as the kid that spotted me ran to catch up to me. Even with my head start I knew I wouldn’t be able to outrun them. I turned down the back alley and ducked through a hole in a chain link fence and got a face full of spider web. One of the big neighborhood dogs lived there. I froze just on the inside of the fence.
A huge Chow Chow stepped out from behind the shed in the yard and let out a low growl. He slowly walked over to me and gave me a sniff. I prayed he didn’t confuse me with a fire hydrant or worse, a chew toy. The boys stopped short of the fence as the dog thumped his huge paws against it and barked at them. I was grateful to be standing in the dog’s shadow. For now. I threw my voice to sound like one of the boys had whistled at the dog and it pounced on the fence again, breaking one of the pickets.
“That’s old Mr. Ferris’s dog!” One of them hissed. “He’ll only take commands in German. He can tear you apart. Old man Ferris feeds him whole frozen deer legs from his hunting trips. That dog devours them, bones and all. We can’t go in there.”
“I’m not going in there!” Said the thief. “Whatever it was you saw is gone. There ain’t nothing in there but that stupid dog. You must be trippin’.”
The other two boys laughed at the lanky kid’s expense.
“C’mon, let’s go,” said the slimeball thief. “I’m not hanging out here to wait to get on Ferris’s bad side. They turned and walked back the way they had come.
I took the opportunity of the dog watching them go to silently sneak back through the fence. I ran in the opposite direction of the no-good kids and back to my own yard without ever looking back. After dodging the next-door-neighbor’s cat bringing home a juicy mouse, The lady of the house would be thrilled to find that on her pillow in the morning. I made it back to my spot on the front deck just before dawn. Frozen for another day and I had failed miserably at rescuing Bob. Who knew what kind of shape he’d be in by nightfall?
Thank the Maker the neighborhood was quiet for the day. I couldn’t handle any more drama.
After what seemed a lifetime, the sun had set and Toad was already in my face. “I see Bob hasn’t returned. I take it things didn’t go too well last night.” Toad croaked.
“No, no they didn’t.” I spat back. “There’s a whole gang of them. They strung Bob up like a piñata and were throwing stuff at him. One of them spotted me so I had to take off.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t caught and strung up right along with him.” Toad’s eyes disappeared into his head as he blinked. He wagged his head from side to side, as close to shaking his head as a toad could get. I imagined he was trying to get rid of the grasshopper leg that was hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “Now do you believe me when I say you need help? It’s not a weakness. Everyone needs a little help at some point.”
“Fine.” I snapped. I wasn’t happy about it and I was sure they’d screw it up, but what choice did I have? I needed a distraction so I could get Bob out without being seen.
Toad gathered up a reluctant team and we headed to the sandbox to lay out the plan. Simple. A couple of the flamingos and gnomes would distract the disgusting human offspring while I slipped into the garage and rescued Bob. Turned out that flamingos were very good and imitating cat fights. Who knew? The whole thing would be over quickly and the flamingos and gnomes would be away long before anyone knew what happened.
We headed to the house of horrors as a group. I didn’t need to catch the blame for anyone wandering off and getting lost or much less, harmed in any way. I’d never hear the end of it.
When we got to the house, I sent the others to the side of the front yard farthest from the garage. When I gave the signal, they would start the diversion and I’d dash into the garage and rescue Bob and then we would all run like hell. Scattering in all directions. It was a good plan.
Only we didn’t count on them being ready for us.
When I got to the garage there were three of them. I didn’t see the smarmy thief. Just then the ruckus began without my signal and the three inside the garage rushed for the open door. I ducked around the side of the house before they could spot me and they hustled to the other side of the front yard. I could hear popping sounds.
Just then, one of the gnomes from my front yard ran by.
“Run for your lives! Run for your lives!” He screamed.
More popping sounds and the rest of the gang ran past with smarmy thief in hot pursuit with a pellet gun. Maker help us! There was only one thing to do. I would have to sacrifice myself to save the others.
I waited for the perfect moment. It seemed like forever, but it was just a few seconds before smarmy thief passed in front of me. I darted out from the side of the house right under his feet, tripping him up and sending his friends tumbling on top of him. I wriggled out from under someone’s leg and took off in the opposite direction from the others.
The ploy worked but barely. I had just enough of a head start once those stupid kids untangled themselves to run around the corner and duck under a pickup truck. The kids kept running straight down the street disappearing around a curve about a block away.
I crawled out from under the truck and headed back to my yard. I knew it wasn’t going to be fun so I may as well get it over with. I hoped that those smarmy kids wouldn’t try to go to take the battle to my own front yard. At this point they should have at least gotten the message that we could make a pretty big ruckus when we wanted to and some people were light sleepers.
Slowing down to a walk as I entered the front yard, the scene could have only been described as chaos. The wounded were being tended to by Bertha, a rotund little gnome with a hustle in her bustle. She shot me an angry glance at me as she attempted to reattach part of Slocum’s right arm and hand. At least he’d somehow gotten back with the amputated appendage. One of the flamingos had two gaping holes in its body and another had lost a leg.
I ignored the angry glances and stares and headed straight up to my spot the front deck. Unfortunately, so did an angry little gnome named Dirk, with Toad following close behind. Dirk was a countrified little guy with a big southern drawl.
“This is all your fault!” Dirk stabbed his finger at me with each word.
“Now hold on there…” Toad tried to interject.
“I don’t need you to defend me!” I stepped between Toad and Dirk. I was the tallest being of the larger gnome variety I stood at two and a half feet tall to his one. I was practically a giant.
The other various creatures began to form a crowd.
I turned to the crowd, looking over Dirk’s head like he wasn’t even there, and I let loose.
“No one here has ever wanted a thing to do with me! I can only imagine that the sad little group of you that went with me tonight only did it out of some sense of pity for Bob.” I looked down at dirk. “For all I know you sabotaged the mission just to spite me!”
A rumble began rolling through the crowd. I didn’t care. What were they going to do? I could feel the magic welling up inside me. Dirk started to open his mouth Toad took a hop to the side. I hauled off and backhanded dirk and he when flying into the lilac bushes fifteen feet away. The crowd gasped and I stormed off amidst comments of wonder at how I’d just slapped a gnome all the way across the yard.
I climbed the tree next to the house and walked along the fence until I came to the spot where the people stored the garbage cans. I stared down into the half full can wondering if I’d be doing everyone a favor if I just jumped in and let the garbage man take me away to the dump. Once I jumped in I wouldn’t be able to get out on my own. Maybe it would be better that way. I heard toad hopping over before he even spoke. I didn’t bother to even look up.
“How long have you been able to do that?” Toad asked.
I knew his next question would be if I could do that, then why didn’t I used my powers to rescue Bob. I kept my silence. I was just as likely to blow Bob up as rescue him.
Toad just stared at me for a moment, then he hit the nail on the head. “You can’t control it, can you?”
The cat was out of the bag. I stared into the depths of the garbage can. It’s darkness calling to me.
“We can work with that.” Toad croaked. “However, you have to trust yourself and you have to make an effort to trust others.”
Neither of these things were strong points for me. The only one in world I trusted was Bob.
Toad rotated his head to one side and raised a toad leg with all the little toad appendages spread apart. He gazed at me intently, making me feel funny.
“What?” I said. Then I began to rise off the fence. “What the — what’s going on here?”
Toad almost imperceptibly moved his little toad hand to the side and down, and I followed in kind, but I definitely wasn’t moving of my own volition. Understanding began to dawn on me. Toad, had powers. I was floored. Toad landed me gently on the driveway on the side of the house. We were still out of sight of anyone or anything out front.
“We are going to do some training.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer. “And then we are going to get your Bob back.”
I simply stood there, slack-jawed, trying to absorb what Toad was saying. Training? What kind of training? And how was this training going to be completed in enough time to save Bob before Halloween?
“We start with healing.” Toad croaked flatly. “Come with me.” He hopped off towards the next-door neighbor’s yard.
“Why are we going over here?” I asked, unsure of anything at the moment.
“Because if the others find out you have magic before you can control it, they may decide you are dangerous and then it will be your own plaster you’ll have to worry about.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed.”
Rounding the corner of the neighbor’s house we worked our way into the wild weeds and elm suckers of an unattended side yard.
“Ok, let’s get started.” Toad hunkered down with his great jowls lying on his feet and his back legs tucked in. He almost looked like a stone.
“Okay…” I said, drawing out the latter part of the word, “what are we doing?”
“Shhhh. We are being still.” Toad said softly.
Again. Not one of my strong points. What was it about this toad that he could pinpoint everything I loathe and all around can’t stand?
“You don’t like the stillness because that’s when all your noise comes. Close your eyes and be still.”
Once again. Nail. Head. Bam!
“Quiet yourself.” He said. Listen to the noises of the night.” He said.
“I can’t. There’s so many thoughts, so much stuff.”
“Let them float by. Greet them, acknowledge them, and let them float by. Now is not their time. Now is your time.” Toad sat there, unruffled, serene.
“This is stupid.” Unlike Toad, I fidgeted.
“That is your fear talking. There are only two energies in the universe. Love and Fear. You must walk out of fear and walk into, and with, love.”
“This all sounds a little froo-froo if you ask me.”
“Well then, good thing I didn’t ask you. Shut up and concentrate on your breath. In and out, in and out.”
My hand flew to the back of my head as I felt something hit it. There was nothing there. “Hey!” I said, as I looked for the culprit.
Toad softly laughed. “Concentrate.”
“How’d you do that?” I realized there was no one there but Toad. He gave a heavy sigh, but stayed silent.
“Do we really have time for this?”
Silence. Serene Toad face.
“Fine.” I plopped down on a patch of grass and closed my eyes, concentrating on my breath as I was told. Hundreds of things flew at me all at once, each loudly clamoring for attention. Apprehension, thoughts of old hurts, present pain, I was drowning. No. I wasn’t going to let them control me. I took a deep breath and began greeting each one and silently telling them I would get to them all in turn. Slowly the tide of thoughts grew still and my mind grew quiet. A calm came over me and I became aware of the crickets singing, the breeze in the trees, the murmurs of the other creatures in my yard next door, and the rest of the night sounds. I became aware of the breeze on my face, I even fancied I felt the rays of the moon shining down on me.
“Very good.” I heard Toad’s croaking in my mind, not in my ears. I tried not to let that creepy fact ruin my concentration.
“I’m going to give you a gift that will greatly accelerate your powers and your understanding of them. However, it’s not going to be pleasant. You must accept this and let it roll over you. The less resistant you are the easier this will be. Understand?”
“Uhm, no! What do you mean it’s not going to be pleasant?” I said, narrowing my eyes and looking at him sideways.
“There is a price to be paid for shortcuts.” A vision of Toad appeared in my mind’s eye along with a verdant, green open field. I felt myself standing in the same field, facing him.
“I don’t know about this.” The vision began to darken.
“Stay with me. It will be worth it in the end. Trust me. Think about why you’re here.”
I didn’t. Instead, I thought about Bob hanging in that stupid kid’s garage. I gritted my teeth, “Let’s get this over with.”
“Alright then.” Toad hopped over to a dead oak tree. “Break a stick off of one of the branches.”
I followed and silently did as I was told and then followed Toad to a flat piece of sandstone.
“Sharpen it to a point.” He said.
“I really don’t— “
“Quiet! Sharpen the stick.” Toad had become serious and bossy.
“Okay!” I brandished the pointed oak stick at him, “now what?”
“Gently rub the stick on my back. Be careful not to poke me.” He hopped up and turned in the air landing with his back to me.
I looked at the stick then at Toad. I was pretty sure he’d lost his little mind, but whatever. I rubbed the stick on his back and he did the hop, turn thing again to face me.
“Show me.” He said.
I lowered the stick in front of his face and he gave a curt nod. A thin film of something left a sheen on the sharp end of the stick.
“Now stab it into your arm.”
“What! Are you crazy?” No way was I doing that. Who knew what kind of crazy stuff was on the end of that stick, let alone on Toad’s back.
“Do it!” Toad’s voice was suddenly commanding and much larger than what should’ve come out of something that size. I actually felt compelled to do it. A thought struck me. Moments ago, I had been staring into a filthy trash can contemplating the validity of my existence. Eh, what the hell.
I stabbed the stupid stick into my stupid arm. “Ow! I glared at Toad. No anesthetic or nothing, huh?” I pulled the offending piece of oak tree out of my arm as the skin around the puncture would began to turn purple. Then, still totally aware, I fell over and felt nothing.
“Better.” Toad chuckled. Chuckled!
Panic ensued but you wouldn’t have known it by looking at me. My unblinking eyes simply stared serenely straight ahead. Meanwhile my brain was doing its best to crawl out of my skull. It was just like daytime.
“Calm down. The effects are temporary. You’ll be fine in a few hours.” Toad quickly regained his composure. “Now for the hard part.”
‘Hard part? Really?’ I thought. I’m going to wring that little toad’s neck when I get out of this.
“Feeling feisty? That’s good. You’re going to need that energy.” Toad pushed me onto my back and climbed half-way up over my head resting his chin on my forehead, facing downward. I could just see it moving in and out with his breathing, hovering over my unmoving eyes.
“Now, push me off.” He said.
‘Are you kidding me?’ I wondered if this is how I would die. Poisoned by a toad in a patch of weeds almost twice as tall as me.
“Focus!” Toad’s voice roared through my mind. He didn’t croak when he spoke this way. Interesting. Well, if he wanted me to push him off, I show that bulbous green skinned bug eater. I summoned all my anger and pushed it at toad, imagining him flying out of the weeds and landing about three feet away.
Toad made a “pfft” noise as he popped up about one centimeter and rolled off of me to land upright on the ground next to me. My ears were ringing and my head hurt.
“Good, you managed to move me on the first try. Not nearly as far as you wanted to and I didn’t even give any resistance, but a solid first try.” Toad climbed back onto my forehead. “Try again, see if you can overcome a little resistance.”
Toad suddenly felt a lot heavier on my head.
I began to gather up my anger and frustration.
“No, you won’t get the job done like that. You have to access both sides of the energy. There must be balance. Find a visualization that works for you and use that to summon your power. Like this.”
A vision of intertwined snakes, one all white light, one inky black that seemed like it could suck up all the light, filled my mind. The power emanating from them was immense. ‘Don’t snakes eat toads?’ I thought.
“Nevermind who eats who, that doesn’t matter. Choose. Now.”
The weight increased on my forehead, feeling like it might possibly crush my skull.
“Knock it off, toad! I get the picture. You’re going to crush my head!” I searched for an image in panic.
“Yes, I just might. You should probably focus and move me off.”
“I never knew what a jerk you were.” I said as I found my image. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. An image of Bob and I, me in silver and him in gold, holding hands. We raised our hands together and pushed our energy outward in one big burst.
Toad and I both when flying. I went straight up and he went somewhere off to my right a few feet away. My head felt like someone split it open with jackhammer.
“Good!” toad exclaimed as he made his way back to me through the tall weeds. “I imagine your head is hurting quite a bit now.”
“That’s an understatement. Wait, why aren’t you feeling it?”
“It’s an unfortunate side effect of the venom I used to help you bring forth and control your magic. I told you there was a price for shortcutting.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t say the price was my head exploding!”
“Relax. You can fix it now.”
“Riiiiight.”
“While it’s true that your abilities are more suited to battle than to healing, the fact that you have abilities means that you have the ability to heal yourself and others. I would suggest you do so before you lose consciousness.”
“Just then everything began to go dark, the pain had ratcheted up to a level that was becoming unbearable. Toad was right, if we didn’t do something I was going to pass out and end up left out in the open. The impending dawn wasn’t helping my stress level one bit.”
“Focus!” Toad’s voice cut through the pain. I would have flinched if I could have made my body move. But then again, I would have run a long time ago if that were the case. I called up the image of Bob and I, making it expand in my mind, pushing out the pain and the poison. My skin began to feel like it was on fire as it oozed out of all of my pores. I could feel other feelings coming back and soon the pain was subsiding and I could move again. I sat up and found myself sitting the middle of what looked like a circle of blighted grass.
“Interesting choice. I would have just condensed it into a ball and puked it up, but whatever works for you.” Toad said from his position sitting outside my circle of death. “You’re ready.” And with that he hopped off toward the front yard.
An angry group of gnomes was gathered just off the front corner of the house near the herb garden. As we approached, they turned toward us and their voices became louder. Accusing me of putting everyone in danger for my own selfish gain and so on and so forth.
“Quiet!” Toad said in his power voice. I didn’t have another name for it. “We have an announcement. Gather everyone and get the flamingos over here.”
The mob blinked in unison a couple of time and then scampered off to do as they were told.
“You’ve got to teach me that,” I said.
“Not a chance,” toad said.
“You’re no fun.” I turned and walked up to the deck standing in the center on the edge like it was some kind of stage. Toad hopped after me and settled off to one side.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Someone said.
“Yeah, who died and made you queen?” Said someone else.
I eyed toad nervously, the anger already rising. He just nodded at me and inclined his head towards my audience.
“Okay, look, I know I haven’t been the easiest gnome to get along with.
“Heh, no kidding.” Heckled someone from the back.
“Tobias, you will hold your tongue. As will the rest of you until Karma is done speaking.” Said toad. A murmur ran through the crowd but they settled down quickly.
“As I was saying, I haven’t been the easiest gnome to get along with, but there was a reason.” I dropped my head and stared at my feet. “I have certain abilities and I couldn’t control them. After I’d hurt one of the flamingos, I figured it was better to keep everyone away so I didn’t hurt anyone else.”
More murmuring began to rise from the crowd. “What kind of abilities?” Someone yelled.
“If you can’t control them maybe you should leave,” said another.
Toad hopped to my side. “That’s enough! Have you all become so high and mighty that you would ostracize someone who didn’t ask to be here any more than you did? Who are you to judge yourselves better?”
Properly shamed, they fell silent again.
“Karma is a war gnome.” Said Toad.
Even I was shocked at his news. There hadn’t been a known war gnome anywhere as far as we knew in our little corner of the world for centuries.
“Well, I don’t know…” I started.
“Karma, you must accept what you are if you have any hope of controlling what’s within you. Our training today was just the beginning.”
“Hey, how do you know she’s a war gnome, toad?” One of the flamingos spoke up.
“I was not purchased locally,” toad croaked. “The people found me while they were on vacation in the place where I was made. It was a green and beautiful place. There were many war gnomes there. Gnomes and fay were treated with respect, not like here where we are treated like common yard decorations and fantastic mythical creatures. War gnomes are the protectors, they battle those that threaten our kind. Bad dogs, mean cats, and hoodlums like those who have taken Bob.
“Do they all have tempers like hers?” Tobias prodded.
“Some do, some don’t. I found most of the gnomes in the other place to be rather volatile. That being said, a war gnome is not the kind of creature you want to be on the wrong side of.”
I hopped off the deck and everyone in the vicinity moved back, giving me a wide berth. The loose crowd parted in front of me as I made my way to the flamingos in the back by Tobias. He moved in front of them as if to protect them. I stepped up to him and he lowered his head and moved out of the way. The flamingos were shaking but stood their ground. Had to admire that kind of courage. Out of the three of them only one of them was still whole.
“I’m sorry about your injuries.” I grabbed a skinny stick off the ground and moved toward the one-legged flamingo who leaned on the whole one. He flinched away from me. “It’s okay, I’m going to fix you up,” I said. He looked to his flamingo brothers who made a motion kind of like a shrug, then he nodded at me. I put one end of the stick in the hole where his leg used to be. It wasn’t as long as the other and he smirked at me.
“Wait for it…”
As I held the leg in place I visualized it becoming one with the flamingo. The leg lengthened and turned to metal looking like it had been there with the other one all along and all their beaks dropped open as he put his slight weight on it and took a tentative step. I moved to the other injured flamingo and put my hands over the holes in his side from the pellet shots he’d taken. As I envisioned, the holes closed up like they had never been there. I paid no mind to the gasps and freaked out whisperings behind me. I turned and walked back up to the deck.
The sun was beginning to lighten he horizon and I could feel the heaviness of day paralysis coming and so could the others. The crowd was quickly dispersing. I hurried up to the front deck to take up my spot, but I quickly decided that wasn’t a good idea since the hoodlums had seen me. I decided hanging out on the side of the house was a better idea. I squeezed into the hedge between yards and settled in to wait out the day.
***
When I woke up that night I was back on the front deck. The humans had decided to pick today, of all days to clean up the side yard. Oh well, at least I was still here. There must have been an interesting conversation about how I had managed to get wedged into the hedge.
Toad soon joined me. “Are you going to take another stab at it?” He croaked.
“I have to.” I watched as the nocturnal neighborhood woke up. “I can’t just leave him to be destroyed like that.”
“It may already be done.” Frog said quietly, as if saying it might make it true.
“No. I would know.”
“They will be expecting you this time.”
“I know.”
“You have a plan?”
“I do. This ends tonight.”
“Well of course it ends tonight, tomorrow is Halloween.” Toad seemed to revel in stating the obvious.
“Don’t steal my thunder, you irritating amphibian.” I hitched the strap of my biker overalls over my bone shoulder and marched to the front of the deck where the neighborhood nocturnals gathered. The neighborhood cats had even come to lend a hand along with a rag-tag band of racoons. They were all chattering amongst themselves when the flamingos noticed me standing there.
“Hey! Listen up y’all. Karma’s got sump’in ta say!” It was the flamingo who was formerly missing a leg. Clearly from the deep south. What they were doing out on the lawn during the month of October was now a bit clearer. It was a southern thing, I figured.
Shaking myself out of my revelry about the origins of lawn flamingos I briefed the gathering with toad’s help in clarifying the sketchy details. At one in the morning, we headed out. Why one in the morning? Because we found that this was when the teenaged boys hung out in the detached garage behind the thief’s house. About this time, they were winding down, getting tired, bored, off-guard.
We hit them hard and we hit them fast. With the help of the cats and the raccoons, they never knew what hit them. First in were the cats and the raccoons. Hissing and growling as they tumbled into the garage in a sea of flying fur scattering the boys, their sticky drinks and snacks and one racy magazine all over. The boys headed for the door, herded by the force of nature that was angry cats and racoons.
I snuck in with toad and an army of gnomes and lawn flamingos who swarmed the area taking all the skateboards away. Bob was in bad shape. He’d been used for paint gun and pellet gun practice and seemed to have given up sentience altogether. I slowly lowered him to where toad was waiting below. The ruckus outside had receded. I hoped it had moved down the street but instead, the creepy, disgusting kid that had stolen Bob from me had returned. Pellet pistol in hand.
“I don’t know what you little freaks are, but I swear I’ll fill every last one of you with holes. He took aim, right between my eyes.
“NO!” Toad yelled, jumping between me and the smarmy kid. The shot went right through the middle of him and he landed badly on the other side of the garage, but before he could get off another shot, he was swarmed by flamingos and garden gnomes who managed to disarm him and freak him out to the point that he was reduced to a simpering pile of half-grown human on the concrete floor.
“Karma,” Tobias softly called my name from where he was standing by Toad, “he’s not…he’s not dead, is he?”
Much as I hated to, I left Bob in the hands of Bertha while I checked on Toad. He didn’t respond to me and I doubted I had the energy to save them both, but I would die trying. “Let’s get them back to safety. Hurry!” I prodded the gnomes in to action. We swept up both Toad and Bob and headed home. Leaving the thief crying alone in the corner of his own garage.
Most of the night critters and the rest of the lawn people had scattered and gone home. Only those within a house of each side of my yard had remained. There was no sign of any of the brats. We carried Toad and Bob to the side yard, to the circle of blighted grass I had created, and I began to work on them.
I started with Toad. Truth be told, I didn’t think I could save Bob by myself. I stilled my mind and searched for Toad. He was sitting on a rock in an idyllic pond scene.
“A little ostentatious, don’t you think?”
“Not at all,” said Toad. “I’m not coming back.”
“What? No! I need you! I have to save Bob! I can’t do it without you,” Panic pulled me partly out of the vision. I heard Bertha, urgency in her voice, saying Bob was fading.
“You don’t have much time,” Toad stated the obvious yet again. “I’ll help you, of course, but this is the last time. You must learn to have confidence in yourself. Now, help me get a little closer to Bob.”
I was suddenly thrown out of my trance. Left only with the order to move Toad closer to Bob. I turned to Bertha, “We have to move Toad closer to Bob.”
“What? Are you nuts? What good is that going to do?” said Bertha.
“Just get over here and help me. There’s not much time!”
Bertha ran the few steps to Toad and we lifted the big, fat amphibian over next to Bob. Toad showed no signs of consciousness, let alone sentience.
“Berth, I’m going to go into a bit of a trance. That’s where Toad is.” I spoke to her slowly.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You don’t have to. Just monitor us and wake me if anything serious happens.”
“Uhm, okay” Bertha was clearly skeptical.
I returned back to the astral plane or whatever it was called and found Toad again. Somehow, he had grabbed Bob and they were sitting under a tree chatting as if everything was just fine.
“What is going on here?” I asked
“We were just chatting about what happened what will happen and how things are going to go,” Bob responded.
“Uh-huh, and how are things going to go?”
“We’re going to save Bob and put him back in his cozy little resin home,” said frog.
“Okay,” I said, wary of what Toad might be up to.
“Let’s do this, then,” said Toad, “Hands on patient, here we go.”
As Bob grew clearer and more detailed, Toad grew fainter and I felt stronger. Something was terribly wrong.” I stopped and snapped back to reality.
Bob was standing in front of me. Somber. He knew. He knew Toad was going to give his life to the healing and he did nothing to stop it.
“Why,” I cried.
Bob took me into his arms, “Toad said to tell you that it was the only gift he had left to give. He said his wound was beyond healing, that he was dying and he had to pass on his power to someone. He chose you.”
“But, I’m not…”
“Yes, you are, he said you’re worthy. You’ve always been worthy.”
Halloween came and went without incident. It seemed we had taught those hooligans a lesson after all, though what were they going to say—that they were attacked by lawn ornaments? Like anyone would believe that. By the time the night was over and we were done with our party, we were ready for the long nap and went happily into our box until next year. Rumor had it that Tommy, that was the name of the smarmy thief, had a bit of a breakdown and would be spending some time at his grandma’s out in the country to hopefully help him get over whatever had made him so scared of the dark at home.
Deanna delivers a whodunnit mystery with attitude. A vicious thunderstorm sets the mood for this whodunnit. E.v.e.r.y.o.n.e has a secret. More than one person has a motive for the murder of Liz’s husband, Jack. A tangled can of worms is opened when Liz’s neighbor invites her and the rest of the people in their small mountain neighborhood to her house for the evening.
The storm traps all the suspects in one house. Secrets are exposed and suspects abound while Liz obsesses over who may have killed Jack. Peopled with fabulous characters, a moody, immersive setting, and a great puzzle occluded by a bunch of robberies, wrapped in the dark wings of a mystery, This is NOT going to be a book you want to put down. Why are you still reading this? Go buy it! Now! Buy all her books!
I’m doing a workshop for Pikes Peak Writers on what to do with all that information we haul home in our heads and in our bags from a writers conference. If you’d like some pointers on how to sort through the minutiae how to make the momentum of conference work for you well into the rest of your year drop by and check it out May 21, 2024, 6:00 PM MDT. It’s free, but you must register HERE.
K.A. Olgren Stories 'n' More 