I know I’m a bit late with his one, as Thanksgiving was last Thursday for my US friends, but it is still November, the thanksgiving month. And we should give thanks all year round.
I decided to write a Haibun for this. A Haibun is poetic prose followed by a Haiku complements it.
The warmth of the sun caresses my face. The breeze lifts a strand of my hair, like a lover. The leaves whisper secrets above me. The brook giggles at the jokes it heard. Flowers nod in agreement with everything. Butterflies paint the forest glade in a tapestry of colour.
There is such beauty We have been given so much We should be grateful.
Have you ever written a Haibun? I only recently learned of them and this is only my second.
I’ve had the suggested cover back from the publisher and have accepted it. I like it. What do you think?
Should be out in time for Christmas, so if you are stuck for Christmas presents, here’s an idea. Details of where and how to buy coming when I know them.
In the meantime, if you would like a short story to read, completely free and exclusive, click on the button below.
Maria and Tom have bought an antique table for the old cottage they have bought. When they hear strange noises in the night that sound like crying, they worry their house is haunted, but the sounds seem to come from the table.
They set about trying to find what is causing the disturbances. The answer is stranger than either of them had thought.
(Clicking the link will add your email address to my email list, but don’t worry, you can unsubscribe immediately if you wish.Nor will you get any spam. I only send out an email each quarter, or if I have any exciting news–like a new release.)
Tonight is Halloween. This is an ancient festival that we have adapted to our own times. This poem harks back to those times when people really believed that the spirits of the dead could return to Earth, including demons and other malevolent creatures.
Hallowe’en
The moon has hidden her face tonight Turned away from the Earth. The clouds are scurrying away in fright From what the night may give birth, For tonight the veil is thin.
The wind is blowing the leaves around. They hide in crannies and nooks. Cowering, shivering, hope not to be found By phantoms, ghosts and spooks, For tonight the veil may tear.
Build a bonfire, create some light. The spirits are afraid. They like the shadows, shun what’s bright And lurk within the shade For tonight they cross the veil.
Ghouls and spectres, wraiths and shades Return to Earth tonight. We’re filled with dread as daylight fades. The smallest sound will give us fright For tonight the veil has gone.
This poem appears in my poetry book, Miscellaneous Thoughts. It is available in your favourite store, as ebook, or ‘real’ book.
There are more Halloween poems there as well as others from the various seasons, the countries of the UK, limericks, Haiku and many other things.
Most of my poetry is rhyming poems, so if you enjoy that kind of poetry, you will probably enjoy my poems.
Get your copy by clicking on the image of the book in the sidebar or the button below.
I ‘ve started writing book 3 in my series, A Family Through the Ages. Book 1 was set in Roman Britain, Book 2 in Viking Britain, and now Book 3 begins with the Battle of Hastings in 1066, probably the most remembered date in British history. Not for nothing, as it changed this country vastly.
Anyway, to whet your appetites, here’s the first chapter. It contains some violence, as it deals with the Battle itself.
Please remember that this is a very early draft, so there might be mistakes.
Anger of an Anglo Saxon
CHAPTER 1
Durston stood with his shield locked with the ones on either side. A helmet covered his ash blond hair, and a breastplate made of hardened leather covered his torso.
He turned to the man on his left. “We’re in a better position. We should win this fight easily.”
Looking down the slope, he could see the Norman army gathering. There were many archers behind their infantry. He swallowed hard. The Anglo Saxon army did not have nearly as many. His legs felt weak and his hands shook. What if he were killed here? His son, just fourteen, would be the new theign. The lad did not have the experience to deal with the work.
Pull yourself together. Leola will help him. She’s competent. He smiled as he thought of his wife.
Taking a deep breath, he focused on the enemy.
His neighbour turned to him and grinned. “They won’t be able to use yonder horses against us. Shouldn’t be hard, this one. We’ve got the high ground. If we can kill that William the Bastard, they’ll run back to Normandy like rabbits before a fox. Should have this done by noon.”
The Anglo Saxon army had hurried south from defeating an attempted invasion by the Norse king and King Harold’s brother, Tostig, at Stamford Bridge. They were celebrating when the news of the invasion from Normandy came.
King Harold immediately demanded a forced march to the south coast to repel this new threat to his kingdom. On the way, they gathered more men, all willing to fight to protect their country from foreigners.
As Durston watched, a single person came out from the enemy lines.
The man sang as he brandished a sword. Durston could not understand the words, as they were French, but he understood the tone. The man sang insults and threats, underpinned by his sword waving.
As soon as his song ended, he ran towards their line. Durston’s eyes opened wide and he shook his head. The shield wall opened, a little to his left, and the singer was quickly cut down.
Then the battle began.
The twang of bowstrings filled the air, followed by the wizz of arrows. The men in the shield wall raised their shields as arrows fell like raindrops. The Anglo Saxon archers replied with volleys of their own, although they were fewer in number than the Norman archers.
Men shouted war cries, those who were hit screamed, arrows clanked on raised shields.
The two shield walls collided with a bang.
Men on both sides pushed as hard as they could, at the same time trying to spear those opposite.
The air was filled with the scentl of blood. Durston gasped as an enemy spear found a way through a small gap and cut his left arm.
He thrust back and was gratified to hear a scream of pain. “That’ll teach you to try to invade my country.”
The October sun rose in the sky as the fighting continued. Durston swallowed. It was thirsty work, this fighting. He glanced at the sky. Nearly noon. As he continued to thrust against the enemy shield wall he felt a tap on his shoulder. He dare not look round.
A voice. “Go get something to drink.”
He slipped his shield from its lock with those on either side and the man relieving him quickly took his place.
Durston staggered to the rear of the shield wall. He spotted a fallen tree trunk and sank onto it, leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He shivered uncontrollably. The hours in the shield wall took their toll.
“Here’s some ale.”
He glanced up to see a young man about thirteen years old, holding a flagon.
Reaching out, he swallowed it in one gulp. “Thank you.”
Someone handed him a chunk of bread and a slice of meat. He stuffed it into his mouth and stood. His legs gave way and he found himself sitting on the floor. Leaning against the log he had been sitting on, Durston closed his eyes. The fear came creeping back. He looked at the cut on his arm.
I hope that doesn’t turn bad.
He felt his eyes closing. In spite of the noise from the battle, he was drifting to sleep. Shaking his head, and ignoring his shaking legs, he pulled himself to his feet and staggered back to the shield wall. He relieved another man and locked his shield in place with the ones on either side.
Once back in the battle, the fear slipped away. Anger swept over him in its place. How dare these foreigners come to take over his country? His legs stopped trembling and his eyes opened wide. Showing his teeth, he grimaced.
The man in the enemy shield wall was also showing his teeth. He shouted a cry, but Durston did not know what it meant.
“For King Harold,” he shouted in reply.
Someone to his left cried out, “They’re running!”
Durston glanced and saw that the Norman shield wall had broken, and men were running down the hill. Someone shouted to keep the formation, but many of the Saxon defenders took off after the fleeing Normans.
Then Durston could see no more as he concentrated on his own battle.
The afternoon slowly passed. Men were relieved on the battlefield on both sides, but after they had shot most of their arrows, the Normans concentrated on the shield wall. They found it impossible to collect their spent arrows from beneath the feet of the two opposing armies.
Again, the Normans retreated. This time Dutston was aware that after running, and being chased, they turned on the Anglo Saxons chasing them and a hand-to-hand battle began. The Normans in front of Durston did the same. As they ran, Durston was unable to prevent his men from chasing.
“The cowards are running,” someone shouted.
“No, it’s a trick.” Durston tried to call his men back.
As he expected, the Normans turned on the chasing men. With the shield wall dismantled, the Norman cavalry charged. Durston threw his spear at one man bearing down on him. The spear hit his horse in the leg. The animal screamed and went down, throwing its rider.
Durston drew his seax. As the man regained his feet, Durston slashed at his face. Blood flowed as a long cut appeared from his ear to his chin. He screamed.
The downed rider staggered, giving Durston the chance to get in another slash. This one, however, only hit the man’s hauberk, but it did damage the chain mail that made it.
The man let out a grunt as the air was forced out of his lungs. He raised his sword, and Durston only just managed to dodge the downward slash as it narrowly missed cleaving his skull.
Another slash from Dursto’s seax caught the attacker’s leg. He went down, blood pouring from the wound. He screamed something Durston did not understand, but thought it was probably a curse. Before the man finished his curse, however, Durston’s seax slashed across his throat. His curse was never finished.
Durston took a breath. For the moment no enemy approached. He glanced to his right. There, a young man, one of his followers, was beset by two Normans.
He raised his seax, and shouted, “For King Harold.” He rushed at one of the men. This distracted him and he turned, allowing Durston to slash at his stomach. It opened, and the enemy soldier clutched his belly and fell, his guts spilling out and tangling around his feet.
Durston saw the young man dispatch his adversary before turning to look for another man to fight. He saw a man with a mace approaching. He raised his seax, but the enemy lifted his shield and blocked the cut.
The two skirted around each other, getting in the occasional hit on a shield, but neither getting the better of the fight. Durston’s legs began to shake, and it was more difficult to raise his shield or slash with his seax.
He looked at his opponent who was breathing heavily.
He’s exhausted, too.
At that moment, the Norman raised his mace and brought it down on Durston’s head.
***
Durston opened his eyes.
It was dark. His head hurt. He raised his hand to his head and felt something sticky.
Blood.
His helmet had gone. When did that happen? He placed his hands on the floor and raised himself to his elbows.
His head pounded.
Rolling onto his front, he struggled to his hands and knees. He closed his eyes briefly. It made no difference to the dark.
He raised himself to his knees and looked around. He could see very little. The darkness was like a blanket wrapping around him, determined he would not see anything.
Durston sat back on his heels, listening. Rustling sounded to his right. Something brushed against him. He swung his hand and made contact with a furry body. It squeaked as he bashed it away.
Rat. Nasty things.
Millions upon millions of stars covered the sky. Durston tried to decide the time by their positions. The sun had been still up when he was fighting. Someone must have hit him on the head. How long had he been unconscious? He estimated it was not yet midnight.
He managed to struggle to his feet. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought against it.
It was then he heard the singing. Must be our men singing their victory songs.
Staggering, he headed in the direction of the sounds. He passed hundreds of bodies, both Norman and Anglo Saxon. Horses, too. He felt sorry for the animals. They had not asked to come to fight. They knew nothing of the politics that caused this battle.
A shadow stood over a body. As Durston approached, it raised its head from its grizzly meal. Teeth bared, the wolf snarled. Blood dripped from its muzzle.
Durston backed away. “I’m not going to take your meal, revolting as I think it is.”
The wolf returned to eating the body of one of the fallen, whether Norman or Anglo Saxon, Durston could not tell.
Wolves, rats and foxes tonight. It’ll be crows, ravens and kites in the morning.
As he neared the camp where he heard the singers, Durston stopped. He crouched. He listened carefully. He recognised neither the songs, nor the words. Someone spoke.
Not Anglo Saxon.
The bastard Guillaume won the battle. How? We had the better position. And they ran away.
It came to him slowly. With his head pounding and his dizziness, his thoughts were sluggish, as though they had to wade through mud to get into his consciousness.
It was a trick. They feigned flight, then turned on us. They couldn’t beat us in the shield wall, so they broke it up by pretending to run.
Durston tried to raise himself from his crouch. He staggered and fell to all fours.
Blast. Did they hear that?
Someone shouted and Durston scrambled away, still on hands and knees. Then the shout stopped. Normal conversation resumed.
Must have decided I was a wolf.
When he was close to some trees, Durston stood. He leaned against a tree to get his bearings. Where was their camp? Had anyone returned to it? Would the Normans have found it and ransacked it?
He lurched in the direction of where the Anglo Saxon camp had been. When he arrived no one was there. Not even a horse. He felt the tears welling in his eyes. Dizziness threatened to overcome him.
No one? Was no one left alive?
A sound came from behind him. He swung round making the world spin. He drew his seax.
“Careful. You are in no condition to wield that safely.” The voice came from a stand of trees. A man stepped out. He smiled at Durston. “It’s good to see you, Lord Durston. I was afraid you had been killed.”
Durston frowned, staring at the man. “Do I know you?”
“No. Probably not, My Lord. I wasn’t one of your followers. I hold a farm not far from Alricking. When news came that Duke William had invaded, and King Harold’s army passed, I decided to join. To defend my country.”
Durston sank to the ground. “We lost.”
The man shook his head. “Yes, My Lord. We lost the battle.” He approached Durston and held out a hand. “The survivors are assembling a little distance away. Let me help you.”
“I suppose King Harold is organising an attack on the Normans’ army.”
The young man’s face fell. “King Harold is dead, My Lord. He fell in the battle.”
Durston groaned. “Who is in charge, now?”
“Lords Edwin and Morcar.”
Durston allowed the young man to help him to his feet and, with Durston leaning heavily on his arm, they proceeded through the trees.
I wish this headache would go. I can’t think clearly.
After what seemed to Dunston to be hours, they broke into a clearing. He glanced around and noticed many men. Some lay on the ground, moaning, some sat on the ground or leaned against tree trunks and others moved around the wounded, administering bandages.
“You found another survivor. Good. Now return and wait to see if any more turn up. When day breaks, come back here.” The man turned to Durston. “I’m Earl Morcar. You are?”
“Theign Durston, My Lord. Of Alricking.” He swayed on his feet.
“You are injured.” Earl Morcar called to a young man who was passing. “Help Theign Durston to the healers.”
The young man took hold of Durston’s arm. He guided him toward where healers worked on those injured. The scent of blood permeated the air along with the groans of men.
A woman covered in blood hurried over to them. “Another injured man?”
Durston glanced around. Cuts, stabs, bruises covered most of the men. One was missing an arm, and he saw two men with missing eyes.
The healer took his arm from the young man who escorted him. “I see you’ve a head injury. We’ll get it cleaned up in no time.” She paused as Durston staggered. “Do you have a headache?”
Durston nodded, then regretted it as his head pounded. “Yes, it’s the worst headache I’ve ever had.”
“Did you get a blow to the head?” The woman lowered Dunston to a seat on a log.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember much. I helped one of my followers who was beset by two men. Then a man with a mace approached me. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the dark. Beasts were devouring the dead. At least, I hope they were dead!”
The healer cleaned the wound on his head, which bled profusely, and told Dunston to lie down anywhere he could find a space. “I’ll bring you some willow bark tea if we’ve any left. Should help with your headache. You must rest,” She scurried away.
We can’t let these Normans win. I need to go back and fight them again. Is Earl Morcar organising a new attack?
He tried to stand, but his legs gave way as the clearing span around him. He decided he should take the healer’s advice and he lay in the space between the log he had been sitting on and an oak tree. Soon he was asleep.
I received a free copy of this novel in exchange for an honest review.
In all honesty, I wish I’d read Book 1, Constellation, before reading this, as it’s the second book in the trilogy. Having said that, it is possible to read this without reading book 1 because Mr Scanlon skillfully fills in the gaps during the story without making it seem like an infodump.
The story is told in first person present tense. Not my favourite tense to read, but I got used to it as the story progressed. It seems to be the current fashion.
Story.
India Jackson is, for want of a better word, a Space Pirate. She is recruited to find out what Oberon, the leader of a different sector, is planning in order to capture Constellation, a ship that India secured for her sector. (Book 1)
A Space Station is destroyed, and India is accused of the deed. She flees with her crew to unsavoury parts of the galaxy in order to find out more, but with a price on her head, and possible traitors, it’s difficult for her.
I cannot say more without spoilers.
Blurb
Indy Jackson has had enough of war politics. After beating rival space fleets into submission and reclaiming a fabled battlecruiser, she refuses to kowtow to the derisive attacks from the military. But when an anonymous terror attack destroys a key space station command, she’s thrust into a power play that could be terminal.
She brought parts of the galaxy to their knees. Now one mouthy space pirate has become prey…
Forced on the run and accused of the horror assault that claimed thousands of lives, Indy ventures into lawless territory to find answers. But instead of gathering support, her reputation threatens to send her to the grave.
Can this fish-out-of-water and her ragtag crew save the entire sector from annihilation?
Nebula is the intense second book in the Blood Empire space opera series. If you like driven heroines, interstellar standoffs, and underhand political motives, then you’ll love Robert Scanlon’s intergalactic adventure.
Characters.
The book is told from Indy’s POV as it’s in 1st person, so we know her better than anyone else. She is a complex character, and can be unpredictable. Although she doesn’t mind breaking the law, she does have a strong moral sense and guilt feelings for people who die in her service, or because of her plans.
I think many people will know someone like Indy in their complexity. I certainly felt with her, and liked her.
Other characters are less well developed.
Writing
I have no complaints about the writing.
Mr Scanlon does well in making us feel the dangers and excitement of space. Near the beginning, Indy performs a dangerous manoeuvre while escaping that we can almost feel.
His descriptions of the places visited are clear and we can easily visualise them.
Grammar is good. No typos that I spotted.
If you are a fan of Space Opera, then I suggest you read this book.
I give it 5*
My ranking of books.In order to get a particular number of stars, it is not necessary to meet all the criteria. This is a guide only.
5* Exceptional. Wonderful story. Setting well drawn, and characters believable–not perfect, but with flaws. Will keep you up all night. No typos or grammatical errors.
4* A thoroughly enjoyable read. Great and original story. Believable setting and characters. Very few grammatical errors or typos.
3* I enjoyed it. Good story. Characters need some development. Some typos or grammatical errors.
2* Not for me. Story not very strong. Unbelievable and flat characters. Setting not clearly defined. Many typos or grammatical errors.
1* I hated it. Story almost non-existent. Setting poor. Possibly couldn’t finish it.
Do you enjoy Space Opera stories? Have you read Nebula, or its earlier book, Constellation? What did you think of them?Let us know in the comments.
I wish I hadn’t read this book yet. It is the first part of a trilogy and I can’t wait for the other books to come out. I am captivated by the story, and chilled at the same time.
Story.
I am finding it difficult to summarise the story without spoilers.
There is an abandoned house on a hill just outside the town of New Haven. There is something frightening about it, and no one goes there.
The Woods family farms just outside the town, and their son, Nate, is on the baseball team. When a new family arrives, the son also joins the team, but there is something the other boys find odd.
Then a shop burns down with the owner and his son inside. The sheriff immediately suspects the newcomers, even though they were all at the baseball game.
On a bicycle ride near the house, Naomi Woods and her son, Nate, see mysterious lights and are chased by a strange animal.
When Kaia Woods’ best friend disappears, things come to a head.
I’m saying no more.
Characters.
Mr Kummer has given us a variety of characters, each one different.
Cliff Woods, the father of Kaia and Nate, wants to farm his land in peace and do the best he can for his family. He does not always make the correct decisions, though.
Naomi is a sensible woman. She tries to do the right thing, and she stands up for the new family. But she is afraid of the house because of something that happened to her when she was foolhardy enough to go into it.
The sheriff is a prejudiced man who is suspicious of anything new.
Kaia cares for her friend who has married a strange young man, but she is impulsive.
Nate is a typical young boy who would rather play on his x-box when not playing or practising baseball.
On the whole, the characters are believable with flaws we can all relate to.
Writing
Mr Kummer builds the tension excellently. I felt quite afraid in the parts where the house was involved.
The story is written from multiple points of view. Each point of view has its own chapter. When we are with a member of the Woods family the writing is in the first person, which is the majority of the book, there are chapters which don’t involve them, and they are in third person.
I did not find this a problem as it’s made quite clear in the chapter headings.
One negative in the writing is the overuse of the word ‘just’. It appears several times on most pages and it did become a distracy, especially since in most cases it wasn’t needed.
This was not enough to reduce the rating, and I give it 5*.
My ranking of books.In order to get a particular number of stars, it is not necessary to meet all the criteria. This is a guide only.
5* Exceptional. Wonderful story. Setting well drawn, and characters believable–not perfect, but with flaws. Will keep you up all night. No typos or grammatical errors.
4* A thoroughly enjoyable read. Great and original story. Believable setting and characters. Very few grammatical errors or typos.
3* I enjoyed it. Good story. Characters need some development. Some typos or grammatical errors.
2* Not for me. Story not very strong. Unbelievable and flat characters. Setting not clearly defined. Many typos or grammatical errors.
1* I hated it. Story almost non-existent. Setting poor. Possibly couldn’t finish it.
Would you like a free short story?
If you would like to receive an exclusive, free short story by me, called The Haunted Table, simply click the link. This will take you to the page where you can download it.
Maria and Tom have bought an antique table for the old cottage they bought. On hearing strange noises in the night that sound like crying, they worry their house is haunted, but the sounds seem to come from the table.
They set about trying to find what is causing the disturbances. The answer is stranger than either of them had thought.
(Clicking the link will add your email address to my email list, but don’t worry, you can unsubscribe immediately if you wish.Nor will you get any spam. I only send out an email each quarter, or if I have any exciting news–like a new release.)
I can’t use my usual format for reviews as this is a non-fiction book, and obviously, things like Story and Characters don’t fit.
Charles Yallowitz has written a book to help would-be fantasy writers to write an exciting and well-written fantasy book. It would be useful for any would-be writer, though, and even for those a bit more experienced. I certainly learned from it.
Mr Yallowitz has an easy-to-read style. You can almost imagine he is sitting across from you on your sofa and chatting about writing a book. I loved this. He is not putting himself across as the definitive expert who is telling you exactly what to do to write your book, but frequently says that this is what worked for him.
The excerpts from his books that he uses to illustrate his points are definitely helpful.
I love the cover with the illustration of a little dragon-type creature, Fizzle, that he developed for his fantasy novels. There are many illustrations throughout the book of this endearing little creature.
The book is divided into sections such as ‘Do I Need a Prologue or Epilogue?’ and ‘What Tense Should I Use?’ There are many other sections such as World building, The Quest, Characters, and many other sections.
But it’s not all about writing fantasy. Many of the things Mr Yallowitz talks about are pertinent to all fiction. Such as endings, character biographies, plotting vs pantsing (writing without a plot, or ‘flying by the seat of your pants’), juggling multiple protagonists and many more things.
I enjoyed reading the book. It is accessible to all. Definitely one you should read if you want to write fantasy, and you will find it helpful for any genre.
I give it 5*
Have you read this book? If so, what do you think? Please add comments to the comments box.
I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Blurb
What would you do if you were to host a dinner party and the sky wasn’t what you’d ordered? Could you find someone to shake out the creases from the clouds and tone down the wind to an acceptable zephyr? And what are the challenges facing a Portal Management Volunteer as they steer the recently departed to their chosen Hereafter? Or how would you organise your life if you were called to do God service just when you’d planned on making marmalade that weekend? Life, DEATH and Other Characters will inform and, where necessary, guide you through these and other complications amongst a lot of other short fiction that will educate inform and entertain. Well, maybe one out of three.
Review
As this is a book of short stories, my usual review is not applicable.
Geoff Le Pard has written a book of short stories that are not to be missed. Whoever you are, there is something for you here. I am not usually one for short stories, but I loved this. There is such a variety of stories here. Some are irreverent, with tales of problems that God has; some are lough out loud funny; some are short; some are longer; some have deeper meanings for those who wish to search for them. I love the tales where Death (or De’Ath as he has decided to call himself) is a character, but I can’t say I have a favourite story. They are all my favourites. It is an easy read for when you have only a few minutes and don’t want to plough through a chapter of a full-scale novel. There will be a story that can fit into your time-scale. Or do what I did and start at the beginning and continue to the end. Some of the stories are commentaries (disguised, of course) on modern life, and politics. Whoever you are, I recommend this book to you.
I gave it 5*
If you enjoy short stories and would like to receive an exclusive, free short story by me, called The Haunted Table, simply click the link. This will take you to the page where you can download it.
Maria and Tom have bought an antique table for the old cottage they have bought. When they hear strange noises in the night that sound like crying, they worry their house is haunted, but the sounds seem to come from the table.
They set about trying to find what is causing the disturbances. The answer is stranger than either of them had thought.
(Clicking the link will add your email address to my email list, but don’t worry, you can unsubscribe immediately if you wish.Nor will you get any spam. I only send out an email each quarter, or if I have any exciting news–like a new release.)
I am going on holiday at the weekend, and so there won’t be a post next week.
I hope you all won’t be too disappointed about that! 🙂
I will be returning home on the 15th, but as it’s rather close to Tuesday, and I’m bound to have stuff to do when I get back, I’ll probably take a couple of weeks off.
Have a good time while I’m away.
In the meantime, you can join my mailing list and get yourself a free short story by me.
If you would like to receive an exclusive, free short story by me, called The Haunted Table, simply click the link. This will take you to the page where you can download it.
Maria and Tom have bought an antique table for the old cottage they have bought. When they hear strange noises in the night that sound like crying, they worry their house is haunted, but the sounds seem to come from the table.
They set about trying to find what is causing the disturbances. The answer is stranger than either of them had thought.
(Clicking the link will add your email address to my email list, but don’t worry, you can unsubscribe immediately if you wish.Nor will you get any spam. I only send out an email each quarter, or if I have any exciting news–like a new release.)
Dragons Rule OK. V.M.Sang (author) 