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Book Blurb: Back in the Bronze Age, Angus McCraggan sacrificed his life to break the Celtic curse laid on his kind. He failed. Millennia later, he returns to modern Ireland to find his people have become feral, vengeful shadows. With his hollow hill now packed with tourists, he uses his power to keep his past hidden. Until an American calls him out. Since a banshee attacked her as a teen, Erin De Santos has been tormented by dreams of a boy she’s never met. Armed with a new identity, she returns to the Emerald Isle determined to face her nightmare.…

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Megan will be awarding a prize pack featuring a necklace and bracelet made by the author to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. For Lachlan Smith, learning the secret of the apocalypse was the easy part.   Ever since Locksmith found the portal to the future, he has been wondering who or what was responsible for the empty, uninhabited world he found.   Now he knows—and now he has to fight…

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Megan will be awarding a prize pack featuring a necklace and bracelet made by the author to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour. I call on the fates to bring my love to me. As I will it, so mote it be… What if those simple words plus a name on a scroll could guarantee true love? The moment Mandy meets Jack, she knows he’s the one. Tall, dark,…

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By Linda Bourgeois, ph.D.: Today I read the obituaries. No, I was not present in any column, however, there were many who were there. Mary. Bill. Tom. Alice. Jo Betty. Lillian. Zane. Henry. Did they intend to be in this paper today? Were they prepared? Did they have a wife or husband who will grieve their passing? sons? daughters? what was the sum of their being? Did they go peacefully? did they “settle” all their affairs? The media always lets us know when celebrities die; those whom everyone knows but what about those whom everyone does not know? Do we,…

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By Regina Rymes: Tick tock tick tock My clock reminds me Of days past And years gone by All I have left now Is tick tock tick tock The ticking of my clock I look outside my window. At the rolling plains and the roaring lions And wonder to myself, Where did all the time go? Then I hear tick tock tick tock And remember the ticking of my clock That tells of the years gone by I once was young I once was beautiful I once was desirable My life was full of hope My life full of dreams…

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By Omondi Kong’o Wycliffe I didn’t start this war, But I have to fight, My only plea, Kill me last. Kill me last, After I lay my parents to rest, Their bodies in body bags, Their faces I can’t recognize, Police justice they called it, Orders from above they said. Kill me last I ask, After I put my brother to rest, His only crime was supporting justice, I’m still in the lake, Hoping to fish out his body one day, Hoping the fish didn’t make him a prey, Kill me last, For my daughter is lying in a pool,…

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 By Kevin Raphaelah This is the only long term pain I know, The only place I’m no longer willing to go. After all, hearts still get broken, Perfect friendships deemed forgotten. When love strikes, you’re rendered blind, That’s why from it I choose to hide. No longer in control of your actions, Same applies to your reactions. Yes loving can be hard sometimes, In my case maybe all of the time. A broken heart makes me feel alive, As I choose to avoid love like a bee hive. With a cautious reminder to keep my distance, Giving no priority to…

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By Taidi: I have thought of writing letters. Of bleeding my essence through my pen. Of free form that could entrance. Like a girl to her forbidden lover. But what could I say? Could I write words that I don’t understand to a lover who exists only in the ether? Could I experience emotion that feels unfamiliar for a person that should be familiar? I couldn’t. So, I won’t. What I’ll do, instead, is write from memory. My soul denies me what my mind serves only with zeal. So I will retreat to its comfort. To the comfort of memory…

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By Victor Jawaseda: Otuoma Primary School, Wichlum in Bondo. The year was 1995. Most of us who were promoted to join the fourth class were very happy. First, because we were to begin going back to school in the afternoon, secondly we were to evade the tasks that came with not coming to school in the afternoon and just to enumerate was “kwath”, “rego” and ‘rito oduma or riembo gwen from feeding on omena”. Perhaps the most memorable source of joy for those who experienced it for the first time like me was the promotion to use bic instead of…

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Often, I ask this question, What becomes the fate of baby Bird, When mother Bird is out there picking insects, But instead her luck gets bad, In her path a stone intersects, It sounds so sad, When her wings loose balance, To the ground she drops, First a flap then another kick, Her life is gone, Baby Bird still awaits, With little or no feathers, The cold nights become akin, Deep hunger pangs atop sin, Is baby Bird still bold with hope on skin, One night then another yet mother never returns, For instead she is held in a hunter’s…

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