Chicago Down- Cover Blurb

Greetings all,

I’m working on a draft of Chicago Down’s back cover description.  Here’s a peek at what I’ve compiled from the short synopsis so far. I’m still working on trying to dwindle it a bit more.

*****

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, Sal 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 cover, as opposed to the back blurb.)

Copyright 2017 Wanda Paryla

Chicago Down (a Meme & More)

Chicago Down

Talk about foreshadowing.  Can you see it?

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“Never call me Toots again, Al,” Sal said.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Know what?”

“What? You about to cast a kitten?” Al said.

“Cast a what?” Sal demanded, eyebrows drawn together hard. “What, you ass?”

“Don’t fuck with me, girl, or you’ll end up in worse shape than that Screaming Meemie I just bashed.”

“Oh, stop. You’re not gonna do shit.”

“You’re something. What happened to hard boil a sweet, young thing like you?”

I’ve never been sweet.”

Copyright 2016 Wanda Paryla

Chicago Down (an excerpt)

CHICAGO DOWN (Updated 5/28/17)

“There’s something I know about Al Capone’s life and death that the rest of the world does not. Because history is inaccurate. But, I knew him. I was there the day he died. So, I know. You can believe me or not. Doesn’t matter.

Al was by no means perfect. He could be cruel. Monstrous at times even. But Chicago owes him. It’s a bill that they’ll never pay. It’s a debt they don’t even know they own.” – Salbatora Guerrera

Wanda Paryla Copyright 2016

The Devil Plays Dice – Excerpt (and other work)

Greetings! Thanks for reading.

This is a Chapter One excerpt of The Devil Plays Dice – the sequel to Someday Always Comes. This is totally raw and unedited, so beware of crazy wording, long winded-ness, and odd grammar.  😉

The targeted publication date for this sequel was originally September 2016, however, I am embarking on a mid-life career change and moving from Illinois to Texas this coming summer, 2016. So I’ve had to push back the target date to Spring 2017 simply due to editing and cover graphic processes and expenses. But I want my readers, blog visitors, and friends to know that I am writing and working to bring them the best work that I can.

I have my eye set on 2017 for the self-publication of The Devil Plays Dice as well as a book of original poetry currently titled The Crime of a Life Sentence. There is another project I have in the works but I’m not sure where on the wheel of the year that will fall, if in 2017 at all.

I’ll add  excerpts from other chapters, as well as poetry from The Crime of a Life Sentence, and I’ll add information as I go along over the next months and try to keep everyone up to date on the process.

Happy Reading! And thank you for your patience.

 

THE DEVIL PLAYS DICE

 

Our house was in total bedlam with cops and emergency personnel buzzing all around. Hypnotizing red, white and blue lights swirled around the neighborhood like disco balls possessed, ricocheting off buildings, cars, trees; the driveway. It was Spring Break, 2010, but for me it was more like Independence Day, as the strobe lights pierced the twilight like the rainbow colors of sky rockets on the Fourth of July.

 
It was déjà vu, and despite the iron fencing and the fact that our home was far from the street with a driveway two city blocks long separating the road from us, I knew the neighbors and the press had their faces smashed against the vertical bars of the front gates.

 
I’d experienced such bedazzlement before. But this time it was all slow motion to me and came with a much higher price: the newspapers, magazines, and TV news stations to name a few. For heaven’s sake, what were we going to do? The usually reclusive lifestyle my family and I enjoyed was now busted to pieces.

 
God, how I hoped there would be a lesson for the public in this one. Otherwise, my daughter was just a murderer. Plain and simple.

 
My husband, Seth, tried to talk to me but I couldn’t really understand what he said. I stood leaning up against one of the pillars of our front porch. I slid down it landing on the top stair, head in hands, crying like a fool. Emotionally and physically drained, I just didn’t know what else to do. I thought this wouldn’t happen to me ever again. That it couldn’t happen.

 
And then there was Detective Ron Rosales. Yes, you read right. Rosales. He was there too. He was always there. Remember all those things I’d said about cops in the past? Well, Rosales turned out to be different. He kept up with me over the years for the most part. Always checking in on how I was and keeping up with the births of my kids. He and his wife, Anna, visited us now and then, and we them. Getting together for barbecues and such. Anna came to all my baby showers. They didn’t come to our wedding, of course, since we got married so far away and Rosales had to work. Crime doesn’t stop for a trip to the Virgin Islands.

 
Of course, I called him Ron ever after. When my kids were tots, they’d lovingly call him, Detective Ronny. He rushed to Wilmette from Chicago when he heard through the fast-and-furious police grapevine what had occurred at my house. But, I’m not sure if his being there made me feel any better. It did a bit, legally, but not really emotionally. Nothing made it better, despite that he understood me. I never saw this mess coming.

 
The half hour or so before the Wilmette cops showed up were the worst minutes of my life. Now I know what you’re thinking. You read Someday Always Comes, didn’t you? You’re saying, hell no! Something can be worse than some of the episodes in that story?

 
When I finally looked up, my eyes fell on my twelve-year-old daughter, Audra. She was perched on a stone bench in our front yard, poised like a warrior queen, looking at me pitifully as I cried like an idiot. My aunt, Kathy –formerly known as Kiki, sat by her side holding her hand. My lifelong friend, Brianna, stood nearby with her arms folded biting her lower lip, trying to hold back her tears as she nervously turned this way and that way looking for answers she’d never find.

 
Poor Audra. It should’ve been me by my kid’s side, not Kathy. But, I just couldn’t do it. My Audra was way too proud to take my love and coddling. She seems made of stone, that girl. I swear it. I have no idea where she gets that from.

 

No. I could not take care of her. I felt responsible for the whole thing. Seth and me, both. Then there was Kathy and Brianna. They were there too. Nothing we could have done would have change anything. We couldn’t protect the babies. We tried but there was just no way. There’s no way you can do anything when desperate, criminally insane men have their automatic weapons turned on your kids.

 
All our kids were there. Not just mine, but Brianna’s and Kathy’s too. We had no idea where Audra and Diana were when those terrible men busted into our home to terrorize us. But then, an infinite time later, came Audra out of nowhere from below, like a wizard. Like, Rambo.

 
For the first time in many years, terrible menace visited me once again and this time I had no idea how things would turn out. And now that my kid shot a monster, I had serious reservations about Audra’s future as the authorities carried away the body of a dead man-beast from our formerly peaceful abode, all zipped up in a vinyl bag. Yes, it was worse than ever before.

 
What could we do? Despite there were so many of us adults, we were in no position to tackle two madmen with guns and put the kids’ lives in jeopardy, or risk the children seeing one of us killed. I wanted to shield the children. I would’ve died for any of them. Mine, Brianna’s, Kathy’s; even my son, Bret’s, best friend, Donald. Jesus, there was another woman’s child in my house. And his mom wasn’t there. Don’t you people understand that? Another woman who expected me and Seth to guarantee the safety of her son; a woman we’ve known since Bret started kindergarten ten years earlier.

 
There stood Donald, all wide eyed and breathing heavy. Both scared and shocked, but yet I’d look at him and see the wheels turning. He was trying as hard as the rest of us to figure a way out of the mess.

 
And there we all were. All of us with our hands in the air…Seth and me, Brianna, Kathy; dare I say, even my twenty-year old son, Brandon. And we were helpless as one of the crazy monsters waved a gun at my two year old daughter, Abby, threatening me with her life as she cried and sucked on her fingers.

 
Well, there was only one chance…and once the intruders were distracted, Audra shot one of them and killed him. In an instant, instinctively Seth, Brandon, Bret and Donald jumped on the remaining man and nearly beat him to a pulp, wrestling the gun away, as Brianna and Kathy grabbed and ushered the other children out of harm’s way. We always taught our kids to face trouble head on, and Audra did that, despite she had to shoot the prick in the back.

 
Audra did it. She committed murder to save the rest of us. See, I know deep down it’s not about adults versus children. It’s who’s in the position to do the job right, and are they sharp enough, smart enough, steady enough to do what needs to be done if presented with the opportunity to try to put an end to a frightening, potentially deadly situation. And my Audra was, as any of my intelligent children might have been. God knows, they’re all smarter than their mom.

 
Really though, we never know how things will turn out until after we take a chance. Sometimes we are forced to do things we would not normally do for the people we care about; for those who mean the most to us. Sometimes, a bigger tragedy can be stopped by a smaller one, like taking the life of one man, er…fiend, to save the lives of several innocents. We can’t know how things will turn out when we set out with an idea or goal in mind. No matter how safe or scared you feel, no matter how much you plan or don’t plan, care or don’t care…doesn’t matter…just throw any scenario out there. You never know what’s going to happen during the means to an end.

 
Unfortunately for most of us, knowledge comes after the roll of the dice. And we still keep playing.

 

Copyright 2015 Wanda S. Paryla

REBIRTH – a poem

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phoenix by sandara: sandara.deviantart.com

 

REBIRTH

PHOENIX

IN THE SKY

WINGING HIGH

EYES OF FIRE

RISE WITH PRIDE

DO NOT HIDE

SOUL RIDE

PHOENIX

Copyright 2015 Wanda S. Paryla

Back to December – the Synopsis

Hello again, friends and readers.

Below you can read a synopsis of a holiday story I’m working on. I’d like to publish in time for the 2015 holidays. This is a 2nd-draft synopsis. I’ve already begun writing the book, so I’d like to share the synopsis with you. Of course, I’m not much of a synopsis writer – I’m terrible at it, and usually deviate from the plan when I do get into a story anyway.

This is a quick synopsis, more like the long version of a back cover, so the end is not revealed. Only more questions.  😉

Your comments are always welcome.

Here goes nothing. Enjoy!

 

BACK TO DECEMBER
Synopsis:
After graduating college with a bachelor’s degree in creative writing, Joy can’t see herself going back to the one-horse town she grew up in. She sees no future in playwriting there, or anywhere else in Texas, whatsoever. She knows she has to go somewhere else to make her dreams a reality. With ideas of grandeur, places like Los Angeles and New York City etch all sorts of pretty lies on her brain.

 
During her last months at college, Joy meets and becomes enamored with her ticket out. One of her plays peaks the interest of handsome Blake Grant, a PhD student and son of a popular playwright. The beautiful, romantic former Homecoming Queen leaves her old high school flame, Sam, behind to run off with her new man; an exciting man who convinces her she is everything to him.

 
Her heart wanders back to Sam sometimes and the awful way she ended their six-year romance during a cold December rain. The guilt haunts her so she cuts most ties with her roots; not just with Sam, but with her lifelong best friend, Cammy , her former teachers, and even her own father. She cannot let those memories interfere with the present.

 
Joy’s play becomes a Broadway hit, as her husband, a talent agent, lights up the grandest stages with his clients. Life is striking and busy until a house fire destroys her life. Blake takes what’s left of her dignity as he dumps her for someone else. To top it all off, the woman who is supposed to be her best friend betrays her in an unforgivable way, breaking Joy’s trust in her forever.

 
Joy is emotionally and physically scarred for eternity. She knows nothing but regret, grief, and betrayal, and after realizing the last few years of her life were a lie, she wonders if she would be better off dead.

 
Broken, frightened, exhausted and alone, Joy is unable to stand life in New York with nothing but ghosts to keep her company. She comes to realize that the last few years of her life had been an illusion and she longs for those old creature comforts and real friends of home.

 
Embarrassed and ashamed – not just of how her life turned out, or of the scars the fire left on her, but of her actions before she left for New York, she returns to her hometown of Greenland. With the exception of a few vacations to the Texas Gulf Coast, and a weekend or two in Austin, the tiny Central Texas town, population 1000, surrounded by family-owned farms and cattle and horse ranches had been all she had known until her move to New York City.

 
As she approaches the old homestead on a rainy Christmas Eve, she is unsure of her future. What she left behind in New York was hell. It was thwarting, heart wrenching and sickening. A thousand questions run through her mind. Can her family overlook her former transgressions? Will she and her father be able to mend their broken fences? And, how much do the good folks of Greenland really know about her time away? Can the people she grew up with forgive a small-town girl’s ideas of greatness and welcome her back into the fold?

 
Even more worrisome, what humiliation will she face after leaving her old flame standing in the rain one night to run off with a big-city guy? Can he forgive? Will he be able to look past her scars as if they’re not there?

 
She wants no one’s pity. She just wants to go home. If only she could go back to that December and make it right.

 

 

 

Copyright 2015 Wanda S. Paryla