Welcome back to Love Bytes! And the winner from my special July 27th Love Bytes Post: What does a pterodactyl sound like? is:
Lee Todd!!! Congratulations, Lee!
The comments on the post still have me LOL as I read them. Thank you all for participating. I’d like to know what a T-Rex sounds like. I may have to perpetuate giveaways to find out! You guys are awesome!
It’s been a melancholy month for me as the final book in the Elpída Series released in French on August 15th. It’s difficult to let go of writing a series that is near and dear to your heart. Many readers have asked if there will be a continuation of the series. The answer is no, but there will be a spin-off series. Christy, Michael, Jake, Sophia, Thimi, and Zero have much more to say.
There is epic news to offset my wistful mood: Illinois became the first state to abolish the statute of limitations for the prosecution of child sexual abuse! HOORAY! This is a landmark decision and will face at least one supreme court challenge, to be sure. We can only hope that the remainder of the country follows suit.
For now, I’ll leave you with a short story.
A Day in the Life of Christy Castle before Michael
Christy looked at the paper cup containing his medication. It sat in the same place on the breakfast tray every morning. He hated that he had to take medication and, as much as he valued food, he lost his appetite every time he saw the pills. They reminded him of before, of what they did to him. He hated them with the white-hot fury of a thousand suns. He hated the pills even more for reminding him of them. He spent every moment of his pathetic existence fighting not to think about them, not to remember them, not to let them assault his mind as they’d assaulted him—fighting the fear. The fear that one day at least one of them would come for him. To take him back. Back to… before. He struck out sending the tray crashing to the polished tongue-and-groove floor, the food landing with a soft splat. He squeezed his eyes closed, pressed the heels of his hands to his lids, and concentrated. Go away. Leave me alone, he silently begged his vivid memories.
When the memories slowly faded, he stared at the food lying lifelessly on the floor. The crumpled pancakes reminded him of himself, of the way he imagined he looked when they made him sleep on the floor. He shouldn’t have wasted the food. Food was important. He bent, righted the plate, and scooped the pancakes, eggs, and bacon onto it with his hands. He set the plate on the granite counter and stared down at the spilled orange juice, scattered pills, and upside down tray. He couldn’t save the juice and wouldn’t save the medication. He stood and went to shower.
Freshly showered, he shaved carefully. He liked the feeling of being clean, of having no hair on his face. They had always left him dirty… before. He shivered at the memory of sleeping in his own filth and his stomach growled reminding him that he hadn’t eaten yet. He rinsed and dried his face, and went to the closet.
He carefully placed a scarf around his neck to hide the scar that bisected his neck from ear to ear. Another reminder of… before. He reached for a small, round mirror and turned. Holding it up, he checked his reflection in the wall mirror behind him. The back of his long, white-blond curls looked good today, not too frizzy. He turned back, set the small round mirror on the counter, and reached for a small, glass jar. Removing the decorative cap, he dipped his finger in the watermelon-flavored gloss and expertly laced his lips. This gloss was his favorite, not only in flavor, but also in clarity. It made him feel pretty all while it was hardly noticeable.
He closed the jar and set it on the counter next to the others of more distinct color, and opened the drawer beneath the counter. Three-by-five spiral notepads and pens filled the drawer. Writing and hand gestures were his only methods of communication now, after what they did to him in the before. He thought of the pads and pens as soldiers who would write to the death for him. He contemplated for a moment before choosing a blue pad and pen. His blue soldiers would match the scarf he wore today. It was important that things matched, that they were symmetrical. When things were organized and neat, his mind worked better. He could focus on the here and now and know they were his possessions and no one else’s. Continue reading here.
See you back here on Sunday, September 17th!
About Cody Kennedy
Cody is an author who lives, most of the time, on the east coast of the United States. Cody also writes adult mystery thrillers, fantasy, science fiction, and romance as Aisling Mancy.
Raised on the mean streets and back lots of Hollywood by a Yoda-look-alike grandfather, Cody doesn’t conform, doesn’t fit in, is epic awkward, and lives to perfect a deep-seated oppositional defiance disorder. In a constant state of fascination with the trivial, Cody contemplates such weighty questions as If time and space are curved, then where do all the straight people come from? When not writing, Cody can be found taming waves on western shores, pondering the nutritional value of sunsets, appreciating the much-maligned dandelion, unhooking guide ropes from stanchions, and marveling at all things ordinary.
Find Ash on blog, Twitter @AislingMancy, Facebook, Google+, Goodreads, Booklikes,
Dreamspinner Press Author Page, and Amazon
and Ash does respond to emails because, after all, it is all about you, the reader.
Pssst. Click on the captioned title of each book to read the first chapter!