The Bartender In The Sky

Late last evening, feeling angst and sporting a headache that throbbed against my skull, I took a walk in the dark. My only companion, the moon. With his hair over one eye, he watched over me—saved me from the dark shadows. I gazed up into his face and wondered about the billions of people who’ve gone on to the next world before me, the ones who had dumped their troubles on him. The ones who had shared with him their dreams. The ones who had laughed and loved under his twilight.

I wondered about their stories. Some are known by all of us. Some by a few.
As I walked, I gaze over the valley that was my great grandparent’s farm, now divided among their children’s children. I know my great grandparent’s names. I can tell you they lay in the cemetery on the rise to the east. I can tell you their birth and death dates. However, I don’t know what they were like as people. Did they enjoy music or reading? Were reserve or outgoing? What was their favorite time of the year? Or their favorite foods? Did they believe and trust in the Almighty? What were their dreams?
We have pictures of course with names scribbled on the back, but by who? We have ledgers and invoices of transactions stored in the old farm house attic, but no personal memoirs. Knowing this, sadness crept in my heart as I crossed an open field. I wished someone had left behind their words for me. Told me who they were. Left a clue as to who I called my past.

At that moment, the moon winked at me and from within I heard, “You were given the gift of the written word. Why haven’t you left behind words for your children or grandchildren or great grandchildren? Not all will seek them, but there will be one who will. Like you, they will cherish the memories you share and pass them on to another who well cherish their heritage. And so on.”

Stunned, I gaped into his one eye. The ancient man was right. He winked again and turned into a cloud, probably to advise someone else. I finished one swallow of crisp night and with a light step headed for home. I pulled from a drawer a diary given to me one Christmas years ago and wrote. Within these pages you will come to know who I was, what I felt passionate about, and what were my dreams. My hope is I will teach something of the past, something that will make you a stronger person and that I’ll touch you in some way. With love, your heritage.


This is a reprint of my blog from July 2009. I remember it everytime I see the full moon. Since its first printing, I have written two journals and inserted pictures for my grandchildren to enjoy with their children. The future will enjoy the stories of the past-the ones created by their parents.

Have a wonderful week. AJ

It's gone. It's done. I'm moving on.

Time. We all wished we had more stashed away somewhere so on those occasions when we really do need to be cloned three times over we could open the proverbial bottle and dump time over our heads. But, the concept of time and how to capture it remains a mystery to even the greatest minds.

So what is our alternative? How about organization?

We all know how to organize? Well, maybe 75% of us do. Mankind has been organizing things since day one. They kept their food in one area of the cave and their fossil fuels in another and slept in another. They organized hunting parties to gather or capture their food. We know herbalist have been around since, well, day one. I’m sure they kept their ginkgo separated from their dandelion. (To learn more about herbs and their uses visit http://www.age-oldherbs.com/ailmentherb.php ) But how do we organize to save or make the best use of our time?

First, thing that comes to my mind is to get rid of clutter. Over the last year or so, I’ve been tossing, recycling, and giving things away that I don't use any longer, and I still have a truck load that needs to go. I watched a newscast a few months ago on the new minimalist movement. One man had less than one-hundred items, excluding food, underwear and socks in that count, but every other article of clothing, cooking and eating utensils and everything else he owned was included. The show really made me think about what I actually need in my life and how much having a ton of stuff can blog me down. Out the door became my new motto. Well, except for my books. I mean let's be honest. Books are treasure.

Second, when getting organized, I think of lists. The days I make a list are the days I get so much more done. I know some of you have heard the old story about the woman who goes out to get her newspaper and sees her flowers need water so she goes to get the watering can and notices her car windows are open. She drops the can and goes inside to get her keys and picks up her husband’s socks from the floor and carries them to the hamper only to realize it’s full and she needs to start the laundry. Etc, etc, etc. Until the end of the story she is exhausted and never gets anything done. (I’m raising my hand here.) That is so me on some days-days that I don’t make a list, prioritize the items and stay focus on accomplishing the tasks. The world is filled with many disractions bidding for our attention. Without super human powers, we can’t do it all.

One more. (This blog is getting too long. I hate long blogs. I don’t have time to read everything. I’m sure you don’t either) Choose what is important to you and do it first. If gardening is your love, make it your priority and the first thing you do in the morning, or on your off time. If exercise is your game, do it. If it’s writing, sit down and knock out a page or two. Do what you truly love first and your step will be lighter doing the rest of the items on your I’ve-got-to-get-done list.

Thank you for visiting. Take your time looking around and please visit again. AJ

John's Story

A look into John's past.

John Dolton crashed to his knees in front of the inferno that consumed his life.

His heart pumped against his sterum with strong, wild vibes, but his brain felt starved for oxygen. How could that be?

Heat like tiny flesh straved piranhas gnawed at his skin. He gulped against the pain. Roasting air seared his lungs, expanding them until his chest felt as if were about to explode.

He didn’t care.

“Damn, John, snap out of it.”

He blinked and focued on the face in front of him.

“Come on, man. You’ve got to get back.” He heard his partner’s cry but Luke’s voice was diffused, coming at him from several directions.

Something looped under his arms and yanked him upward, lifting his dead weight off his knees—the ones that had given way when he’d seen his life gone. The heels of his boots marked the tarmac with duel tracks as he was drugged away from the wreckage. He didn’t fight. He couldn't. Every muscle in his body had died. His gaze remained on the windows of what once was his SUV.

Staring beyond the flaming bizarre tongues licking at the vehicle’s roof, he saw his wife and little girl as he had left them only ten minutes ago. Happy. Laughing. Anticipating a long overdue family vacation.

“Why?” A screamed like that of a savage, wounded animal rivaled sirens.
He searched the faces staring at him. Wide-eyed, brow ceased, sad faces stared back.
Had the horrendous cry come from him?

Julie.

Katie.

He had to save them.

Adreline surged through his veins and John pulled from the force that pulled him back.

Luke’s grip tightened.

“Let me go. I've got to try.” John twisted and swung a fist at his partner’s jaw, but Luke ducted in time.

Pain ripped through John's shoulder as Luke grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.

“They’re gone, John. You can’t save them.”

The agency’s emergency response team raced around the inferno, but John knew in his heart they were too late. He was too late. He had failed to keep Julie and Katie safe.

John caught a glimpse of the smothering arm lying on the sidewalk against the store front a moment before a fireman covered it with a white plastic sheet. A silver band encircled the tiny wrist.

Julie.

John swore a fiery rod stabbed his gut. He clutched his ribs and a second later, he hurdled the egg-muffin he'd consumed an hour ago.

“We’ll get them. I promise you.” Luke’s voice shook as he held John. “I swear. I will die before they get away with this.”

They?

John fell to the sidewalk. Cold laughter mingled with the taste of vomit in his mouth. Luke nor he knew who they were.

They had taken his reason to live. When he found them, they would wish this day had never happened.

Available at Amazon and B&N.

Happy Easter

Happy Holiday everyone! I'm taking the weekend off to be with family. I hope you enjoy your weekend. Be safe. AJ



PS: remember the sale on His Witness To Evil ends soon. Check blog below for links.

His Witness To Evil is on SALE!

To celebrate the release of my Golden Leaf Winner, HIS WITNESS TO EVIL, I'm offering it in e-format for only .99 at Amazon & B&N. The sale will be for a short time only.




Here’s the link to Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/His-Witness-To-Evil-ebook/dp/B007MBA1O0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332340994&sr=1-1

Here's the link to B&N:http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/His-Witness-To-Evil?keyword=His+Witness+To+Evil&store=allproducts

A blurb for ‘His Witness To Evil’.

Based on true events, awarding-winning author Autumn Jordon has penned a thrilling romantic suspense set in the backwoods and small towns of the Appalachian Mountains.

Stephanie Boyd’s ordinary world changes forever when she and her children witness a blood bath. To escape the wrath of the Russian Mafia, she has no choice but to help the FBI uncover the mafia’s mole inside the U.S. Treasury. While on the run with the handsome agent who is willing to die for them, Stephanie learns the meaning of self-sacrifice and love.

Agent John Dolton’s only break in solving the case that cost him everything is a couple of kids and a beautiful widow. But keeping them safe seems impossible when their every move is foreseen by their enemy. Within weeks, Stephanie and her children soften the loner’s heart and John allows himself to let go of his all-consuming sorrow. This time John vows not to fail to protect the family he comes to love.

True events?

I see your eyebrows raised. Yes, true events. Life is stranger than fiction.

The idea for the book came when a trailer containing US funds went missing from the lot of the trucking company I had worked for. It was stolen, just missed directed for an hour. Tractor-trailers are stolen every day, for the product being hauled.

Another element is also true and has been verified by the FBI director of the branch FBI office near my home. I can’t tell you what that is, because I would be giving away part of the suspense plot. You’ll just have to read ‘His Witness To Evil’ and try to figure it out.

Remember the sale is only for a short. Please pass on the information. Thank you. AJ

April Fool's

April 1, 2012

LOL. I’ve been giggling to myself ever since I decided to pull the prank on FaceBook. I’m so sorry to have fooled you, but I'm happy you took the time to wish me a happy birthday and then to jump over here.







My birthday? I'm a Scorpio. I know, I'm bad. LOL

PRESENTS FOR YOU, read on...



As a consolation for my bad April’s Fools prank, everyone who has wished me a Happy FB Birthday and who leaves a comment here, (no you’re going to kill me messages of any type) will be entered into a contest where I'll award five winners (that's 4+1 for April first) e-copies of His Witness To Evil. I’ll announce my winners on Monday afternoon at five EST, because, we'll I'm giving away five copies. You have until then to enter. No joke, really.

Already have a copy of His Witness To Evil, you can have an e-copy of Obsessed By Wildfire instead or gift His Witness To Evil to a friend. A great Eastre present! WINK

Good luck and happy April!

His Witness To Evil

April 5, 2012

Welcome to my blog. I'm so excited to share I've released His Witness To Evil. I just love the cover, don't you? It's available on Amazon and B&N this week at a sale price of .99.

When I began to write romantic suspense, I tossed out several reams of paper. Why? Because no matter how I tried I couldn’t keep my villain hidden. He kept voicing his POV and writing his own chapters. I nearly ripped my hair out by the roots fighting with him to stay silent. Then I read a wonderful book, How To Write Killer Fiction by Carolyn Wheat. Ms.Wheat set me straight and confirmed what my villain was telling me all along.

Is there a Who-dun-it in suspense? Of course there is. It’s when the villain will be revealed that makes the two different, among a few other elements. In a mystery, an act of violence begins the story, but most times the action is set off stage. The reader is invited into the dilemma and introduced to an already seasoned hero who solves the crime logically and through scientific methods. There is a small circle of suspects, clues and red herrings. Information is withheld from the reader and the said reader is kept in the dark two steps behind. The hero grows very little during the story. The story is all about who killed X? The villain is not exposed until the last scene and the end result for the reader is an intellectual satisfaction.

A suspense novel starts on even keel, showing the everyday life our hero or heroine. Then BAM a nightmare occurs. The hero and/or heroine are not necessarily seasoned investigators. This is where your character arc comes in to play. The hero and/or heroine will grow throughout the story.

Excerpt from His Witness To Evil:

Stephanie masked her sigh of exertion while lifting the Coleman cooler she’d borrowed for their trip. She lugged the container to her old SUV. She knew how her son felt. She wished she had the money to take them away on exciting excursions like their friends had this summer. To places like Disney World, but she couldn’t even afford a day trip to Hershey Park, America’s chocolate capital. Em’s special diet, because of her allergies, took up a third of her take-home pay. After paying the mortgage, utilities, car insurance and miscellaneous expenses, she was lucky to save a few dollars a week.

She chewed on her bottom lip. Hopefully, next week Bobby and his friends would be off on new adventures, their summer vacations a distant memory.
The howl of a diesel engine jerked Stephanie from her musing. The squeal of brakes, crushing metal and shattering glass made her spin around.
***

Other basics of a suspense: All action is on stage. The protagonists’ world expansions. There are surprises. The villain can be revealed to the reader immediately and he or she can have a POV.

Yeah! This made my villain happy.

Information is given to the reader but withheld from the heroes. In other words, we know what could happen if the wrong path is taken by our hero or heroine. The reader sits on the edge of her seat, screaming at the heroine and hero not to go there.

Excerpt from His Witness To Evil:

“I don’t want to kill no kids, Victor.” Mac danced in place ready to dodge Victor’s wrath.

“You will do as I say,” Victor snapped.

She looked at the dead driver. His lifeless stare pleaded to her for justice.

“Don’t trust her,” Sheriff Morse ordered, turning his gun on her.

Stephanie refused to flinch under Morse’s scrutiny.

Gene moved in front of her. “Frank, what the hell are you doing? You’ve known Stephanie all her life.”

“There is too much at stake, Gene. She saw me kill that guy. I’m not going to jail.”

Morse’s tongue skimmed his lips. “Why the hell are you trying to protect her anyway? You two have been fightin’ like junkyard dogs for years. You complain every day she’s milking you dry. This is your chance to be rid of your mistakes.”

“Steph was never a mistake to me,” Gene’s voice rose in response. Then it softened. “I was hers.”

Tears threatened to blur her vision and she blinked them away. She squeezed Gene’s arm and glanced at her ex-husband’s profile. He remained focused.

“Touching,” Victor said. “But, sorry, no. They must die here.”
***

The suspense story is all about the hero or heroine prevailing. Emotional satisfaction is what the reader gets from a suspense novel. And since I write romantic suspense, ever lasting love must also be found.

Excerpt from His Witness To Evil:

After a week, her touch was familiar. His heart melted. He grabbed her hand, holding her in place as he turned and smiled down on her. Her nipples pushed against her white T-shirt. He gently brushed a knuckle across one peak. “No. It was hell without you.”

“Mmmm. Same here.” She pulled back and lifted his arm around her, curling into him. Looking out over the lake, she sighed. “I could stay here forever, if you’d let me.”

“I wish we could.” He gathered her closer and kissed the top of her head. “But eventually Bobby and Em would have to go to school.”

“I could home school.” Her chuckle was strained.

He felt her pain. He smiled while his heart wrenched. He would like nothing more than to forget about the world and stay here with her and the kids. But they couldn’t. “Sooner or later Ben will call. We’ll have to go back.”

“I know.”

Steph moved away. A cold void took her place.

She drifted to the other porch column. Leaning against it, she folded her arms across her chest. Her lips pressed together as if she was forming the right words behind them. “I know I said that our time together here was going to be enough to last me a lifetime, but—” Tears brimmed her lids. “I was wrong. A lifetime won’t be enough.”

John stepped toward her. “I don’t know what—”

“I know, you don’t know how we can be together. So, Ben will call. We’ll go back, and I’ll identify Victor. You’ll toss him in jail and throw away the key. You’ll drive off in pursuit of the next bad guy and me…Well, I’ll go home and wonder where you are. Wonder if what I felt was love.”

The woman knew how to make a guy feel like a heel.

John pulled her into his arms. She buried her head in his chest and cried softly against him. He kissed her head and smoothed her hair. “Steph, I didn’t think I’d ever love again,” he whispered softly, cupping her chin and tilting her face up until she looked at him. “Like a bomb, you dropped into my life. Every defense I’d put up to protect myself from ever being hurt again came tumbling down. You opened up my heart. As much as you don’t want to live without me, I don’t want to live without you. I love you.”

He kissed her gently. Her arms wrapped around him and held on. “Somehow, we’ll figure this out. I promise.”

I hope you enjoyed!
Visit me at www.autumnjordon.com

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