Today we are celebrating ‘In the Tree’s Shadow’ by D.L. Finn. Denise is my blogger buddy and a prolific writer who inspires through her fabulous stories. I am delighted to welcome her here, to talk about her latest book.
Thank you, Balroop, for having me visit today to share my latest release,In the Tree’s Shadow.
“Man on a Pier” came from a vivid dream during a power outage. The dream gave me many pictures to work from of an old man, a cage of dead fish, and a pier. I wrote it down as soon as I woke up so I wouldn’t forget it.
Captain Randall walked down the pier daily with his cage of dead fish. Sasha watched him quietly, knowing speaking to him had dire consequences.
Blurb:
A collection of short stories where dreams and nightmares coexist.
Nestled inside these pages, you’ll meet a couple in their golden years who take a trip with an unexpected detour, a boy desperate to give his brother the Christmas gift he asked for, a girl with a small glass dragon who is at the mercy of her cruel uncles, and a young mother who has a recurring dream about murder. You’ll be introduced to worlds where people get second chances and monsters might be allowed their desires, while angels and dragons try to help. Happy endings occur, but perspective can blur the line between good and evil in these twenty-seven tales. Since the stories vary between 99 and 12,000 words, whether you have only five minutes or an entire evening to settle into reading, there is something that will suit your time and taste.
Let me share my review:
‘In the Tree’s Shadow’ is a unique collection of short stories, as it offers stunning variety. Realism, fantasy and paranormal mingle into each other in this assortment that contains all flavors just like a box of chocolates. Finn’s signature style of nature in harmony with her characters and Angels waiting nearby shines throughout the book, despite the dark themes. ‘The Bonsai’ illustrates it so well. Her stories may rise above the realities of life but they speak of love, loss and kindness.
The spooky aura that she creates with her words in ‘It’s Only a Dream’ and ‘When the Lights go Out’ makes you shudder and believe that some of our darkest nightmares are real! The dream in the ‘Deadline’ is so lucid that I could feel the labored breath of Sadie on my shoulder. Such is the magic of Finn’s style! If ‘Lyrical Dragon’ is highly imaginative, ‘The Bike’ exudes real human values. If you love short stories, you must read this collection.
Excerpt:
The lanky apparition known as Captain Randall carried a long cage full of dead fish in his arms along a wooden pier. He was dressed in brown pants and a blue shirt with brass buttons. His stringy gray hair was tied back with a strip of tanned leather, and his brown boots were scuffed and worn. He set his contraption across from where I sat on the newly painted white bench.
Nothing would have happened that day if it hadn’t been for that man out jogging.
The runner in gray sweats and a shiny blue fitted shirt skidded to a stop in front of Captain Randall, who looked like any other fisherman except for his dated clothes. I jumped up to stop him, but he said, “Hi, I’m Lucas, and I’m new to the area. What’s that for?”
Captain Randall smiled, exposing a mouthful of rotten teeth as he skillfully sliced open the rotting fish. “Come see, Lucas. Follow me.” He gripped the cage and jumped into the icy waters.
I grasped Lucas’s sweaty arm, shaking my head. He grinned, pushed me away, and followed the captain into the water without hesitation.
1. I checked an item off my bucket list. A humpback whale brought her baby to see us in Alaska while we were on a boat tour.
2. I talked my husband into flying over Kauai in a helicopter. I enjoyed it—he didn’t.
Meet the Author:
D. L. Finn is an independent California local who encourages everyone to embrace their inner child. She was born and raised in the foggy Bay Area, but in 1990 she relocated with her husband, kids, dogs, and cats to Nevada City, in the Sierra foothills. She immersed herself in reading all types of books but especially loved romance, horror, and fantasy. She always treasured creating her own reality on paper. Finally, surrounded by towering pines, oaks, and cedars, her creativity was nurtured until it bloomed. Her creations include children’s books, adult fiction, a unique autobiography, and poetry. She continues on her adventure with an open invitation to all readers to join her.
Jacqui is an accomplished author and has written two series about pre-historic human beings. We know little of that time but the way Jacqui brings it to life is amazing! Her meticulous research and her ability to create memorable characters shines through her work. I have read all the books in the series and found them captivating.
Today I am going to share Natural Selection, her third book in the Dawn of Humanity series and my review of this book.
Book Summary:
In this conclusion to Lucy’s journey, she and her tribe leave their good home to rescue former-tribe members captured by the enemy. Lucy’s tribe includes a mix of species—a Canis, a Homotherium, and different iterations of early man. In this book, more join and some die, but that is the nature of prehistoric life, where survival depends on a combination of our developing intellect and our inexhaustible will to live. Each species brings unique skills to this task. Based on true events.
Set 1.8 million years ago in Africa, Lucy and her tribe struggle against the harsh reality of a world ruled by nature, where predators stalk them and a violent new species of man threatens to destroy their world. Only by changing can they prevail. If you ever wondered how earliest man survived but couldn’t get through the academic discussions, this book is for you. Prepare to see this violent and beautiful world in a way you never imagined.
Natural Selection (Dawn of Humanity – book 3) continues the story of Lucy who has a daunting task before her – to rescue past members of her tribe from Man-who-preys and continue her search for a sustainable homebase. Jacqui’s research shines through this final book in the series and many questions that may crop up in a reader’s mind are answered in the beginning of the book. There is some repetition but if you haven’t read the earlier books in the series, that could be helpful in understanding the challenges that the early dwellers of earth had to face.
It is interesting to note the development of characters and their way of dealing with immediate dangers. Their helpful nature, concern for safety, planning attitude is noteworthy and speaks about the natural instincts of mankind. At the same time dominance over the weak, hatred and the urge to keep control over captives has also been highlighted. This book gives a holistic picture of prehistoric man. Raza “furtively sliced a portion” of massive carcass underlines another aspect of man.
I liked Ahnda who could overcome the loss of his eyesight with the help of his smell. It is amazing that he could smell water ahead and could tell exactly where it was and could also hear the reverberation from trees though it took him a long time to understand the distinctions between a forest, lake, valley and plateau. If you have a curious mind and want to know how mankind evolved, ‘Dawn of Humanity’ series is perfect for you.
Excerpt
Chapter – 1
One Pack Ends, Another Begins
Africa
The Canis’ packmates were all dead, each crumpled in a smeared puddle of blood, Upright killing sticks embedded where they should never be. His body shook, but he remembered his training. The killers’ scent filled the air. If they saw him—heard him—they would come for him, too, and he must survive. He was the last of his pack.
He padded quietly through the bodies, paused at his mate, broken, eyes open, tongue out, pup under her chest, his head crushed. A moan slipped from his muzzle and spread around him. He swallowed what remained in his mouth. Without a pack, silence was his only protection. He knew to be quiet, but today, now, failed.
To his horror, a departing Upright looked back, face covered in Canis blood, meaty shreds dripping from his mouth, the body of a dead pup slung over his shoulder. The Canis sank into the brittle grass and froze. The Upright scanned the massacre, saw the Canis’ lifeless body, thought him dead like the rest of the decimated pack. Satisfied, he turned away and rushed after his departing tribe. The Canis waited until the Upright was out of sight before cautiously rising and backing away from the onslaught, eyes on the vanished predators in case they changed their minds.
And fell.
He had planned to descend into the gully behind him. Sun’s shadows were already covering it in darkness which would hide him for the night, but he had gauged his position wrong. Suddenly, earth disappeared beneath his huge paws. He tried to scrabble to solid ground, but his weight and size worked against him and he tumbled down the steep slope. The loose gravel made gripping impossible, but he dug his claws in anyway, whining once when his shoulder slammed into a rock, and again when his head bounced off a tree stump. Pain tore through his ear as flesh ripped, dangling in shreds as it slapped the ground. He kept his legs as close as possible to his body and head tucked, thankful this hill ended in a flat field, not a river.
Or a cliff.
When it finally leveled out, he scrambled to his paws, managed to ignore the white-hot spikes shrieking through his head as he spread his legs wide. Blood wafted across his muzzle. He didn’t realize it was his until the tart globs dripped down his face and plopped to the ground beneath his quaking chest. The injured animal odor, raw flesh and fresh blood, drew predators. In a pack, his mate would purge it by licking the wound. She would pronounce him Ragged-ear, the survivor.
Ragged-ear is a strong name. A good one.
He panted, tail sweeping side to side, and his indomitable spirit re-emerged.
I live.
But no one in his pack did.
Except, maybe, the female called White-streak. She often traveled alone, even when told not to. If she was away during the raid, she may have escaped. He would find her. Together, they would start over.
Ragged-ear shook, dislodging the grit and twigs from his now-grungy fur. That done, he sniffed out White-streak’s odor, discovered she had also descended here. His injuries forced him to limp and blood dripping from his tattered ear obstructed his sight. He stumbled trying to leap over a crack and fell into the fissure. Fire shot through his shoulder, exploded up his neck and down his chest. Normally, that jump was easy. He clambered up its crumbling far wall, breaking several of his yellowed claws.
All of that he ignored because it didn’t matter to his goal.
Daylight came and went as he followed White-streak, out of a forest onto dry savannah that was nothing like his homeland.
Why did she go here?
He embraced the tenderness that pulsed throughout his usually-limber body. It kept him angry and that made him vicious. He picked his way across streams stepping carefully on smooth stones, their damp surfaces slippery from the recent heavy rain, ignoring whoever hammered with a sharp rock inside his head. His thinking was fuzzy, but he didn’t slow. Survival was more important than comfort, or rest.
Ragged-ear stopped abruptly, nose up, sniffing. What had alerted him? Chest pounding, breathing shallow, he studied the forest that blocked his path, seeking anything that shouldn’t be there.
But the throbbing in his head made him miss Megantereon.
Ragged-ear padded forward, slowly, toward the first tree, leaving only the lightest of trails, the voice of Mother in his head.
Yes, your fur color matches the dry stalks, but the grass sways when you move. That gives away your location so always pay attention.
His hackles stiffened and he snarled, out of instinct, not because he saw Megantereon. Its shadowy hiding place was too dark for Ragged-ear’s still-fuzzy thinking. The She-cat should have waited for Ragged-ear to come closer, but she was hungry, or eager, or some other reason, and sprang. Her distance gave the Canis time to back pedal, protecting his soft underbelly from her attack. Ragged-ear was expert at escaping, but his stomach spasmed and he lurched to a stop with a yowl of pain. Megantereon’s next leap would land her on Ragged-ear, but to the Canis’ surprise, the She-cat staggered to a stop, and then howled.
While she had been stalking Ragged-ear, a giant Snake had been stalking her. When she prepared her death leap, Snake dropped to her back and began to wrap itself around her chest. With massive coils the size of Megantereon’s leg, trying to squirm away did no good.
Ragged-ear tried to run, but his legs buckled. Megantereon didn’t care because she now fought a rival that always won. The She-cat’s wails grew softer and then silent. Ragged-ear tasted her death as he dragged himself into a hole at the base of an old tree, as far as possible from scavengers who would be drawn to the feast.
He awoke with Sun’s light, tried to stand, but his legs again folded. Ragged-ear remained in the hole, eyes closed, curled around himself to protect his vulnerable stomach, his tail tickling his nose, comforting.
He survived the Upright’s assault because they deemed him dead. He would not allow them to be right.
Sun came and went. Ragged-ear consumed anything he could find, even eggs, offal, and long-dead carcasses his pack normally avoided. His legs improved until he could chase rats, fat round ground birds, and moles, a welcome addition to his diet. Sometimes, he vomited what he ate and swallowed it again. The day came he once again set out after what remained of his pack, his pace more sluggish than prior to the attack, but quick enough for safety.
Ragged-ear picked up the female’s scent again and tracked her to another den. He slept there for the night and repeated his hunt the next day and the next. When he couldn’t find her trace, instinct drove him and memories of the dying howls of his pack, from the adults who trusted their Alpha Ragged-ear to protect them to the whelps who didn’t understand the presence of evil in their bright world.
Everywhere he traveled, when he crossed paths with an Upright, it was their final battle.
Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular prehistoric fiction saga, Man vs. Nature which explores seminal events in man’s evolution one trilogy at a time. She is also author of the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers and Building a Midshipman , the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy. Her non-fiction includes over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, reviews as an Amazon Vine Voice, a columnist for NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics.
I am honored to welcome D. Wallace Peach, a wonderful author who has a new release. I am also sharing my review of the book at the end of this post. One of my favorite authors, Diana conjures a unique world in her novels – a different one in each book. I love her poetic style of writing and her descriptions are vividly exquisite.
She is a poet too!
There are two poems in The Necromancer’s Daughter, and she has shared the second one here with us. It’s an incantation that summons and animates the dead.
Here it goes:
Death seeks what is frail your blood pooled and bones brittle eye sockets empty owls and flies hover, hungry to consume your flesh if death is the ice of night you ride a stray wind whisper from shores of nothing dare not let crows comfort you for I am the cusp the gate-keeper, dawn-breaker I lead you back to your bones meld your blood with mine rimmed in eagerness and fear I restore your heart summon the flame’s ardent breath which raging seas cannot quell by blade or infirmity your apparition awakens from your slumber begone Death’s black wings for what I know of nature the beauty of life grows back.
“I hope you enjoyed that. Like the other poem, this one is based on the syllabic form called the choka, but I needed more lines, so I wrote a variation using both forms of the nine-line poem, plus the shorter tanka,” says Diana. The true rules of the syllabic form can be found on Colleen Chesebro’s blog: https://wordcraftpoetry.com.
Book Blurb:
A healer and dabbler in the dark arts of life and death, Barus is as gnarled as an ancient tree. Forgotten in the chaos of the dying queen’s chamber, he spirits away her stillborn infant, and in a hovel at the meadow’s edge, he breathes life into the wisp of a child. He names her Aster for the lea’s white flowers. Raised as his daughter, she learns to heal death.
Then the day arrives when the widowed king, his own life nearing its end, defies the Red Order’s warning. He summons the necromancer’s daughter, his only heir, and for his boldness, he falls to an assassin’s blade.
While Barus hides from the Order’s soldiers, Aster leads their masters beyond the wall into the Forest of Silvern Cats, a land of dragons and barbarian tribes. She seeks her mother’s people, the powerful rulers of Blackrock, uncertain whether she will find sanctuary or face a gallows’ noose.
Unprepared for a world rife with danger, a world divided by those who practice magic and those who hunt them, she must choose whether to trust the one man offering her aid, the one man most likely to betray her—her enemy’s son.
A healer with the talent to unravel death, a child reborn, a father lusting for vengeance, and a son torn between justice, faith, and love. Caught in a chase spanning kingdoms, each must decide the nature of good and evil, the lengths they will go to survive, and what they are willing to lose.
Meet the author:
A long-time reader, best-selling author D. Wallace Peach started writing later in life when years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books. She was instantly hooked.
In addition to fantasy books, Peach’s publishing career includes participation in various anthologies featuring short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. She’s an avid supporter of the arts in her local community, organizing and publishing annual anthologies of Oregon prose, poetry, and photography.
Peach lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two owls, a horde of bats, and the occasional family of coyotes.
The Necromancer’s Daughter by D. Wallace Peach is a riveting saga of Aster, a still-born royal daughter who was awakened to life by a necromancer and raised with immense love. Peach doesn’t let you breathe and savor the beauty of her exquisite style but builds up the tension with each page, compelling you to keep clutching your emotions and watch how Aster escapes The Red Order, which believes healing death is evil and pursues her even after they had shattered her life, burnt her home, and ripped away her father.
The backdrop and the pictureque winter landscape adds a chilly charm to the challenges faced by Aster. The descriptions are vivid, the friendships exceptional and the kindness exemplary. Peach’s characters stay alive long after you’ve read the last page of her book and the characters in this book stay true to this fact. Can you ever forget Barus, an embodiment of kindness, with a pleasant face but a crooked spine and misshapen hands or lose sight of Teko, the loyal protector of Aster?
Oscillating between his beliefs and intense desire to help Aster, Joreh – the reluctant admirer – gets mired in faith, politics and emotion but he would
win your heart despite his imperfections. Aster’s mysterious connection to dragons, her will-power and determination to accomplish whatever she thinks is right and her loving heart makes her an endearing protagonist. A female oriented story doesn’t forget to give ample attention to its male characters.
If you enjoy fantasy, if you admire vibrant characters that add to the story, if you like a sonorous style, with a rich vocabulary, this is a perfect book for you. Some magnificent quotes: “The sun surrendered to vermillion clouds and the nightlings flickered between evergreen limbs as they bowed beneath winter’s weight.” “Sky wept frozen tears for the folly of men, covering their blood as it buried their sins.” “When dawn pried its fingers through the cracks in her walls”
I am sure you would like to pick up your copy,here are the links:
Hues Of Hope is the collection of readers’ favorite poems from my poetry books. These poems explore the hope that lies within our heart, hope that whispers each morning to look at the horizon, hope that inspires us to look beyond the chaotic world and take the next step to vanquish the fears that try to fetter us. It promises to take us to an oasis of peace, unravels magical moments of joy, as beams of love calm our senses. It guides us through dark alleys to show the streaks of light that shimmer through the clouds.
I am extremely thankful to all my author buddies and blogger friends who always spread a word about new releases. Please feel free to share this post at your favorite networks. I look forward to your support. Balroop Singh.
I know joy quite well; I’ve experienced its ecstasy, I’ve written many poems about joy and happiness but when the Book of Joy was recommended to me, I was intrigued by it, as it is based on the conversation of two renowned spiritual masters and friends – the Dalai Lama XIV and Desmond Tutu, (and reported by Douglas Carlton Abrams.)
So I am reading ‘The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World’ and must share my thoughts about it. When I started reading this book, I thought I know all this – I know suffering ennobles us, I know pain is essential for our emotional and mental growth, I know struggles make us stronger but this book made me ponder, followed me at my walks, haunted me with a number of questions and humbled me beyond words. The hubris of knowing and only knowing, not practicing, melted like thin air around me.
Living with joy even in the face of adversity! Doesn’t it seem outrageous? Only exalted souls can make such a statement and I read with added interest how one could find joy in difficult situations.
Is it possible to be joyful in the face of our daily troubles? The answer lies within us, says the Dalai Lama, “The ultimate source of happiness is inside, not outside. Even the source of physical health is inside, not outside.” We know that happiness is a state of mind, an attitude that needs to be cultivated but the “source of physical health too is inside?” I was bewildered by this thought and have been trying to figure out the ways to understand this.
When asked that “nothing can be more devastating than being exiled from your home, from the things that are really precious to you and yet to have wonderful serenity on your face and wonderful compassion in your heart,” the Nobel Peace Laureate enlightens us that fleeing from Tibet gave him “more opportunity to learn, to experience life.” He further says, “If you look from one angle, you feel, oh how bad, how sad. But if you look from another angle at the same tragedy, that same event, you see that it gave me more opportunities.”
Perspective matters. This book inspires us to “ take a holistic view” of a problem or a situation to respond to it in a more constructive manner. When we have a wider perspective, we have a natural understanding of our place in the situation. “We must look at any given situation or problem from the front and from the back, from the sides, from the top and the bottom, so from at least six different angles,” says the global spiritual leader. “One need not depend on religious faith to educate our inner values.”
The conversation between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu is most light-hearted, exuding with love and friendship; realistic and humorous at places yet it touches the core of your heart. I was stunned by the positivity of these observations: “When you become a refugee, you get closer to life.” “Torture and hard labor tests your inner strength. Some lose hope, some keep going, education has very little to do with survival in such circumstances. It is the inner spirit that matters.”
Personal experiences are cited to emphasize that “the depth of our suffering can also result in the height of our joy.” If there is no way to overcome the tragedy, there is no use worrying too much about it. We cannot control the inevitability of occurrences but we could influence their effect in our life by adjusting our attitude toward them. So it is all about the perspective.
You must remember that “there are eight pillars of joy: four are the qualities of mind – perspective, humor, humility and acceptance. Four are the qualities of heart – forgiveness, gratitude, compassion and generosity.”
This book is neither religious nor spiritual yet it could be a life-changing book for those who wallow in self-pity, who can’t think beyond self, who seek happiness in material things, who chase success and contentment. It is not about some “abstract or aspirational theory of joy;” it talks about life in a simple way. It discusses fear, grief, frustration, anger, loneliness, envy and self-centered attitude, which create most of our suffering. Don’t forget, says the Archbishop “you are a masterpiece in the making. You are not yet perfect.”
Joy in the face of adversity comes with resilience, it comes when we learn to move beyond our suffering, when we train our mind and develop “mental immunity,” when we learn to “avoid the destructive emotions and develop the positive ones.”
