Chicago Down- Cover Blurb

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Greetings all,

Here’s a peek at what I’ve been working on for the Chicago Down back cover blurb. I’m still working on it.

*****

Salbatora vows to honor her father’s last request: find Eliot Ness to help free her brother who was wrongly arrested for Prohibition violations. She abandons her Texas home leaving behind memories, and the living dead.

Ness isn’t the only thing Sal finds. Chicago struggles under Prohibition. While its citizens covertly indulge in spirits, a sinister darkness grows. Born of greed, it’s more disturbing than a lust for alcohol. While gangsters battle over territories, the undead have no preference as they run amok, and the Illinois governor has lost his mind to a madcap plot to corral Chicago’s mounting zombie populace.

An unlikely team, Salbatora Guerrera, Eliot Ness, and Al Capone form an unusual camaraderie as they fight the Screamin’ Mimis, as Al calls them. They develop a strategy to deter the governor’s plan which will collapse the weakened city. But can they end the evil’s terrorizing hold? When they learn how the dead sprang to life, they must strike at the source to set Chicago free. And they may not survive alive.

Chicago, are you ready for your unsung heroes? (Note: this line is slated for the front cover, as opposed to the back blurb. We’ll see.)

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Storm Dwellers, chapter 6 – an excerpt

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STORM DWELLERS, chapter 6 – excerpt.

Lynn stretched out on the couch to rest. As she drifted off, she heard her mom’s side of a phone conversation with Lynn’s father, Rob.

“Y’all get there without any trouble?” Angela asked. Then there was silence. “Uh-huh. I hope you can find those kids. It’s terrible, babe. Lynn told me a horrific story and I’m worried those kids might not be found.”

Lynn’s eyes fell on the grandfather clock in the corner. It was already noon. She watched the pendulum swing back and forth as her mother’s voice faded.

“What if they’re dead, Rob?” Angela worried. “For Christ’s sake. Oh, Jes-”

 The room grew dark as Lynn slipped to sleep. She floated in the darkness; her breaths kept time with the ticking of the clock.

A pounding thunder snatched Lynn from her nap. She awoke to the sound of glass vibrating, and the twinkling of the dining room chandelier as it swung. Flashing lights from outside nearly blinded her as they filled the room through the windows. She threw her arm up to shroud her eyes from the intense brightness and psychedelic colors. What is that? The police?

“Why would the cops be here?” She said to herself. “Mom!” Lynn did not get an answer. “Mom, you home? Is that the police?”

Again, no response. She ran to the window only to recoil from streaks of blinding lightning.

“Oh, God!” She cried. “No! No!”

Lightning bolts hit the ground leaving burn marks as tree limbs cracked off from their trunks and fell or were propelled away by the strong winds. The wind moaned and whistled around the doors and windows. Lynn heard the floorboards of the second floor creaking; someone was walking around up there.

“Mom, you upstairs?” Lynn shouted.

She whirled around and tripped over the coffee table, hitting her cheek on the corner as she timbered to the floor. She crawled to a corner of the room and huddled on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Mom, where are you? Help me!”

Lynn’s chest felt heavy; she sat up straighter, pinning her spine to the wall, trying to open her lungs.

“This isn’t happening. It’s just not.”

She started to hyperventilate, breathing heavily and shaking. It’s okay. It’ll be okay, she thought.

“It’s okay!” Lynn screamed, covering her own ears. “It’s…okaaay!” Her words emphasized with intent. “Stop!”

There was immediate silence. Lynn thought maybe she had suddenly fallen deaf. She heard nothing except her own heartbeat and breath sounds.

Thick, rancid air filled the shadowy, still room. Lynn saw the tree branches outside that were still swaying in the wind, but there was no sound. Her movements guarded; she reluctantly rose with her back still against the wall, then eased toward the large living room window. She peered again through the sheer curtain panel, then pulled it back a bit and peeked out. The dismal sky held no moon. She looked straight ahead, peering into the darkness.

“It’s noon, what is going-”

Something slammed against the window. Lynn gasped frozen in place. Terry?

Terry’s face frozen, eyes wide with fright, was held up by some unseen force; pressed against the glass and looking straight at Lynn, her eyes bulged from their sockets.

Lynn’s mouth opened to scream, but the sound was stuck within her. She stood paralyzed from the shock of seeing her friend, Terry, like this again. Over the sound of her own heartbeat, Lynn heard Terry screaming, but she could not be sure if it was real.

A power rose from Lynn’s fear and anger. She felt it, she shook, her muscles tightened, finally the words came.

“Stop it! Leave Terry alone! Leave her alone! I’ll get you! I swear, I will!”

Lynn’s hearing returned to normal. The image of Terry morphed into a monster, a hooded creature with melting flesh and pointy talons.

Lynn jumped back from the window and spun, scanning the room for a weapon. She grabbed a marble book end from a shelf and hurled it at the window which burst upon impact; shards of glass embedded into the creature’s flesh; it spit vulgarities at her.

“Enough!” Lynn jutted her palm outward, she felt energy flow from her, and the shards already embedded in the creature began to twist and gouge at its flesh.

The monster howled in anguish as it attempted to pluck out the glass pieces.

Lynn darted away, stumbling through the dim house, crashing into walls, and stubbing her socked toes on furniture legs. She tried light switches as she went through the house. Nope.

The rumbling thunder returned, as did the violently whipping lightning strikes which lashed around like live power cables. Rain poured down, pelting against the house and the windows, causing the windows to blur.

Lynn’s intention was to run into the kitchen, find a weapon of some sort, rolling pin, knife, anything, maybe even a flashlight. She made it to the foyer and stopped near the front door. A light seeped in from under the door; a fog wafted through the space from under the door and every other crack too…or so it seemed.

Lynn stood mortified. Slowly backing away her mental faculties slipping away – No, I can’t do this alone.

The ethereal fog crept forward and began encircling her. She regained her thoughts and continued into the kitchen. She went right for the knife set on the kitchen counter and grabbed the biggest one. She backed up against a wall as the fog filtered into the kitchen.

“This isn’t happening,” Lynn said. “Nope.”

She squeezed her eyes tightly closed for a few seconds in an attempt to will a change.

Lynn opened her eyes. “No such luck for you, Lynn. Shit.”

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Storm Dwellers, chapter 5 – an excerpt

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Storm Dwellers, chapter 5 – excerpt

Joelle leaned forward, looking at Darcy in anticipation.

“Lynn told Sybil to come back to our space until we do the food offering. She took hold of Sybil’s arm, but she was like stone, feet planted firmly on the sand. Terry and I hollered at Sybil from the Circle. She wouldn’t respond. It’s like she was deaf to our words.”

Darcy rubbed her hands together, wringing them from both the memories of the cold wind, and from worry.

“Oh, I’m going to be ill,” Darcy said.

Her hand flew to her stomach as she sprung to her feet.

“I have to go the bath –“

“No, you aren’t, young lady,” Joelle threatened. “You swallow that and tell me the rest.

Darcy’s face fell. She plopped back down on the couch and breathed heavily, hyperventilating for a few seconds as she cried.

After all Darcy had been through, Joelle immediately felt sorry for her coldness.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Joelle reached for Darcy and rubbed her shoulder.

Joelle gave her daughter a minute to gather herself.

“Okay?” Joelle asked.

Darcy nodded her answer.

“Things went haywire after that,” Darcy snorted back her grief. “It was like the whole freakin’ universe went berserk. The weather changed; the sky darkened even though the sun was above the horizon when it happened. Wind picked up, extreme lightning bolts started flying, and there were swirling lights. Like…after this, it’s a blur to me, and I cannot recall every dreadful thing in order. Anyway, Sybil did become herself shortly after all hell broke loose.”

Darcy looked at her mother who was watching her wide-eyed, bottom lip trembling, fear upon her face.

“What did you all go and do?” Joelle asked.

“Nothing,” Darcy said. “We didn’t do anything on purpose. I’m being honest, Mom. I think Sybil was possessed.”

“Oh, God,” Joelle breathed.

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Trait of Value

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What’s the trait you value most about yourself?

The truth is, there is more than one trait. I value my creativity. And I also value my abilities to sympathize and empathize. I value my work ethic and believe in a great work ethic. I deserve many things, maybe, but I only take what I earn through work.

Tomorrow’s Priority

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What’s your #1 priority tomorrow?

Right now, my number one priority for tomorrow is making it through the day alive. 🙂

Storm Dwellers – back cover blurb

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Here is a draft of the cover blurb for Storm Dwellers.

Five teens meet up on South Padre Island to stir up waterspouts, but after a simple spell unleashes paranormal terror on the beach, only Darcy and Lynn escape the island. They have no idea what triggered the ordeal, but soon find that the nightmare has followed them home.

An unfettered monstrosity plagues Darcy, Lynn, and their families and friends, even sending the girls’ fathers, along with police canine, Logan, howling and running for their lives during their own supernatural grapple.

After the sand settles, all they know is there is an evil creature hellbent on taking revenge upon the children of the witches, and it will take more than just Darcy and Lynn to put an end to the entity’s malignant plans.

Brands – Still a Thing?

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What brands do you associate with?

I guess loyalty to Brands is still a thing. I think younger generations might be falling away from that. Does the buck stop with Gen X, or do the older Millennials do brand loyalty now?

I don’t feel loyal to any brand anymore, but there are some name brands that I trust. It probably stems from my childhood. Plus, I am a little OCD, and I don’t like change in certain parts of my life. Sometimes I think this is why I hang on.

Quality might be another. But I wonder if even that’s there anymore. Some Brands, I see, got worse and stayed worse. And some got better and stayed better.

The thing is that trust has been dashed by the buying and selling of brands from one company to the other. Sometimes my heart breaks when I see what’s become as some brands from my youth.

Regardless, some of the brands I tend to stick to among the food line are Kraft, Nabisco, Keebler, Frito Lay, and Green Giant. Also Gerber. Of course that’s not necessarily a brand of food, but I tend to reach for it for baby showers, as well as Pampers. Are these products as good as they were when I was young? I think some of them are better, but I do not enjoy brands going from one place to the other. And how many Brands left the United States for other countries?…and they want my loyalty? I don’t like it when American brands are not made in the United states.

And then there are some things that I will not purchase. For instance I like fish – cod, perch, bass, catfish, whitefish. Also shrimp. I will not buy seafood from certain countries. I was certainly glad to see the day where the country of origin was forced to be placed on the package.

Anyway, I’ll leave those places nameless so that I do not offend anyone unintentionally.

Then there are the car brands. While I never considered myself having a favorite brand of car in my lifetime thus far, up until 2022 every single new car (5) and all used cars (5) – with the exception of one, were American brands, union made. And that’s always the way I liked it. But, last year I wanted to buy a new car, and wanted to get back into a sedan. I had a Jeep then.

I checked the American car brands and they did not, at that time, offer the sedan I imagined for myself. I looked and looked. The ones I liked best were way out of my price range. I cringed at the hought of a foreign car brand but felt I should do my research

I ended up with a Toyota – foreign, but assembled in the USA. I’ve never owned a car where the car maker originally started in another country.

I just don’t consider myself a brand loyalist for the most part. Sometimes I just buy what’s on sale. Sometimes I buy store brands. There is one exception. I prefer Kraft cheese. And it’s something I will buy nine times out of 10.

I also used to be a Sony loyalist. I remember my first Sony Walkman, purchased back in 1986-87! I remember holding that Walkman thinking: this is an excellently made product! And I continued to buy Sony’s on and off for decades. But even they’ve changed, I think.

The problem with brands is that they start out with the promises. Promises such as: I am made excellently! I will be here for you forever; you are what’s most important to me.

Then some huge corporation that owns many brands comes along and offers them a flat rate to buy them out. Sometimes because the product or recipe is excellent, and sometimes they just want the stamp out its popularity.

The most important factor should ot be whether the consumer is a brand loyalist, but whether the brand should be a consumer loyalist. I mean, look what happened to Twitter! Yes, it happens there too. Twitter failed its users. And the people who sold that social media product should be ashamed.

Storm Dwellers, chapter 4 – an excerpt

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STORM DWELLERS

Chapter 4, excerpt

It was quiet again in the SUV. Lynn turned to check on Darcy and found dozing; her head bobbing from the motion of the vehicle.

Lynn yawned. She was sure they had been driving the same road for hours, maybe even passing a few places twice. Round and round.

Something doesn’t want us to make it home, Lynn thought to herself. Damn rooster! Again?

For the third time, Lynn soared passed by a stationary red and black rooster, rooted in place like statue with the exception of a few feathers tousled by the wind.

Immediately after, she whizzed by a welcoming sight, a sign that read: Black Willow 10 Miles. Overcome with a sense of immense relief, her heart rate slowed as her hands loosened on the steering wheel.

“Finally! We’re almost home, Darce,” she whispered as she patted Darcy’s arm.

Lynn and Darcy spent most of their lives in Cameron County, Texas. Meeting in the first grade, they hit it off immediately as if they were meant to be friends.

Darcy walked up to join the line accumulating outside to enter Miss Julie’s first-grade classroom, and her eyes landed on Lynn. She was drawn straight to her, and she crossed the grass like a boss, jumping the line as she bounded up to Lynn.

“Hello, I’m Darcy. I think I know you.”

Lynn studied Darcy; head tilted. She smiled.

“I’m Lynn. I think you’re right.”

A gust of wind blew, shaking the tree leaves. Some children, parents and teachers alike lost their grip on papers and took off chasing them around the grounds. Girls and ladies giggled or hollered out as they fought to control fluffing skirt tails.

Darcy and Lynn watched the chaotic sight on the school grounds.

“I wonder why the grownups are so frustrated and chasing papers,” Lynn said. “They just need to calm down. Let those papers fly away!”

They laughed and had been inseparable since that day.

“I saw your mommy in my dream,” Darcy told Lynn the morning they met. “She sang to me in words I never heard before.”

“Nope. That ain’t right,” Lynn said. “You didn’t even meet Mommy yet. And she doesn’t sing in anything but English, silly.”

However, when Darcy met Lynn’s mother, Angela, she told Lynn that Angela was not the lady she had seen in her dream; she did not look anything like that woman.

“I told you so,” the young Lynn stated.

“Yes, but,” Darcy persisted, “she told me that she’s your mother. I promise.”

Lynn was unable to wrap her young mind around it at the time, but she never forgot that day, and she was always curious about the woman Darcy dreamed. They talked about it a few times over the years, but never in depth and they never wholeheartedly pursued the dream woman’s identity.

When they were older, they searched Lynn’s old family photographs to see if they could find the woman among them. Lynn and Darcy made plans to save money and have an artist draw the likeness of the woman from Darcy’s memory of the dream since she had no drawing skills of her own.

One day, right before they entered the eighth grade, Darcy and Lynn took an introduction to French class at the library.

“That’s the language the woman sang to me in!” Darcy exclaimed.

***

Sybil and Terry Mendez’s mother, Adelina, claimed a lineage dating back to the Texas statesman, Jose Antonio Navarro. Their father, Richard, on the other hand, did not talk much about his ancestry, in fact, he went out of his way to avoid discussion of his ancestry so often that even it left Adelina and her daughters wondering about it. When they would inquire about their paternal ancestry to their father’s parents and other relatives, they always got jokes and snarky remarks in return.

Their father’s maternal grandmother, Paz – who was still alive and kicking at ninety-four, always told them that their father enjoyed rebuffing the ‘ooga-booga’ side of the family.

As kids Sybil and Terry would run around hollering, “ooga-booga!” which in turn made their dad, Richard, quite unnerved.

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Music Everywhere

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Music is everywhere waiting to spring forth charm the senses free the soul express our deepest yearnings I hear melodies in the treetop breezes water passing over rocky streams bell-like laughter of a child’s delight. Music fills our world gift of the angels above. Stop today to listen let it fill your heart with love.

Music Everywhere

Writing While Supporting Your Mental Health

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As writers, it’s not uncommon to continuously search for new opportunities and attempt to come up with new story ideas. But there is always the threat of trying to do too much too soon, which can take a toll on our mental health. There is the struggle with mentally pushing yourself forward with your writing. […]

Writing While Supporting Your Mental Health