Thursday, January 24, 2013

20 Days and Counting!

Hello Bloggers and Fans!  I am already looking forward to tomorrow's post so I can put a number out of the twenties in the blog title!  Less than three weeks now and we will know the fate of THE SAVANNAH SYNDROME (TSS) in Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award competition.  No word from the agent I queried about Vernan, the Vegan Vulture, but it's only been three days, so there is still hope.  With nothing else to report on this blog, I'll be continuing the brief history of my life at my personal blog,  So here is page four of TSS, followed by another picture of the great city of Savannah.  And remember, if you want to read all these pages together, just click here and, with a few easy steps, this wonderful story could be all yours!

"with a quick and filling morning supplement.  She had nicknamed the fig bush Esther, because within her roots held the secrets to save her people.  Of course, for Esther, the only person she had to worry about saving was the one who named her and loved her.
Good afternoon, Esther.
She kindly greeted the fig bush as she scouted a few ripened fruits that had fallen to the ground around the north side of the bush.
Hope you’re enjoying this cooler weather.
She picked up two figs and brushed them off on the cotton of her pants.
Thanks for breakfast.
She ate the first fig by the time she reached the restrooms in two bites.  The soft outer skin gave way to seedy meat, which grinded between her teeth.  She savored the mild, soft flavor of the figs.  In the first few seasons at the fort, the figs would painfully remind her of a time long ago, when she had first had a fig.  That one had been bought from a place called a grocery store, brought home in a little plastic container and kept in their refrigerator.  So her first memory of figs was of them being cold and refreshing.  It had been a challenge for her to push that memory aside, because with it came back all the memories of that forgotten life, of her parents, her beautiful mother and her loving father.  Those memories would bring great sadness upon her heart and darken her days.  But the fig tree gave her an easy source of energy each evening, so she forced herself to push those memories so far into her mind that she ate each fig without giving it a second thought, despite it being warm and no longer refreshing, but still filling.
     Leaving her clothes on the concrete walkway, with the second fig nestled on top; she made her way into the women’s restroom where she relieved herself in the third stall.  That one still had some toilet paper left.  There were still two stalls she had yet to occupy.  She moved from the women’s urine filled restroom to the better smelling men’s, grabbing her clothes and the second fig.  She ate the rest of her late lunch and"

From Kevin Barry's pub, upstairs in the Hall of Heroes,
keep talking smack N. Korea and expect a visit from these
fellows rather soon.

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