Surprise Post: Uriah Crowe (Twin Souls by DelSheree Gladden)

Today, Uriah, from Twin Souls, is taking the stage with a message and a warning. 

My mother loved to tell me stories from our tribe when I was young. She always said that the stories carried our history. They carried the truth of who we are. Even from a young age, I understood the truth of her words. That didn’t mean I wanted to hear the stories. I feared that hearing about the heroes would change me into something I did not want to be. A hero. I wanted to tell her to stop, but she loved the stories so much that I could never ask such a thing. 

So I listened, night after night, until I could no longer deny what I was destined to become. 

The story I want to tell you now is not about a hero, but a warning to never forget who you are and where you come from. Knowledge like that is powerful and may save your life one day as it did mine. 

***

Long before I was born, Deer Hunter and White Corn Maiden were born to my Pueblo, San Juan Pueblo. Deer hunter was revered because he never came back from a hunt empty handed. White Corn Maiden caught the other’s attention because of her fine pottery and beautiful embroidery. 

The beauty of Deer Hunter and White Corn Maiden brought them together. They were favored of the Gods, but the Elders warned them not to become so enraptured with each other that they forgot their people. Against the Elders advice, the two spent more and more time together until Deer hunter stopped hunting and White Corn Maiden abandoned her pottery and embroidery. They forgot their religion and traditions despite warnings that harm would befall the village if they continued in this way. 

Their selfishness caused them to pledge that they would never be parted, yet White Corn Maiden fell ill and died three days later. Her soul wandered for four days in order for her to seek forgiveness from those she had wronged in life. Deer Hunter could not accept White Corn Maiden’s death. He sought out her spirit and even though she begged him to let her go, he could not. He pledged his love once more and she relented, and did not allow her spirit and body to leave the mortal world as she was meant to. 

Soon, Deer Hunter began to realize that keeping White Corn Maiden in the mortal realm could not last. She began to decay and he soon sought to escape her. White Corn Maiden could not leave him, though, and wasted to bones as she chased after him. The village wasted away along with her just as the Elders had warned. 

Seeking to end the torture of the village, a majestic figure with a large bow and two arrows appeared in the village center, calling out for Deer Hunter and White Corn Maiden. When they appeared, he cursed them for their selfishness. Ruin had been brought to the village because of them. Their punishment for abandoning their religion and traditions was to serve as a reminder to the people of the Pueblo for all eternity of how important upholding their traditions and religion was. He placed Deer Hunter on one arrow and shot him into the sky. White Corn Maiden followed after him, both becoming stars that roamed the sky forever, White Corn Maiden eternally chasing behind her husband yet ever catching him. 

***

To learn more about DelSheree and characters like Uriah, you can find them online at: 

Amazon Kindle US : Amazon Paperback US : Amazon Kindle UK : Amazon Paperback UK : 

B&N :  Kobo :  Goodreads : DelSheree’s Blog : DelSheree’s Website : Facebook : Twitter : Wattpad : Amazon

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Surprise Post: Lucy Crowe

Let's see what Lucy Crowe's Characters from "Sugar Man's Daughter" are up to today!

I gave my blog over to a couple of my characters today to better address the issue of 911 Next Generation. This is Delilah’s first “Cop’s Kids” blog, and Bobby is her guest of honor. Let her know how you think she’s doing!

                          

Bobby Blogs

            I’m Delilah’s first victim. She’s managing a blog called “Cop’s Kid” and I’m her opening guest. “What the hell is a blog?” I say. “Sounds like something you slop down your front at the truck stop.”

            “It’s just little diary entries about your life.”  She doesn’t look up from her keyboard; her fingers are doing a crazed hunt and peck pattern.

            “Nobody wants to know about that. Why don’t you talk about something important?”

            “Such as?”

            “911. You can’t text it.”

            The fingers flutter and pause. “Of course you can. And besides, lame-o.”

            Delilah is fifteen. That’s the problem.

            “Your local dispatch center isn’t set up to receive texts. Or pictures. Or blogs.” I tap her head with my knuckles.

            “Shut up!” She swats at me. “What happens if I send one?”

            “Poof, it’s gone. How the hell do I know? But they don’t get it, okay?”

            “Seems like this should be national news so we all quit making mistakes.”

            “You don’t know the half of it, baby.” She’s got a picture of me up on her screen, looking tough behind my Ray Bans. Ha. “Your generation screws up the call all the time.”

            “Because we feel entitled and we have too much. Blah-blah, what else is new?”

            “You call for help on your little cell phones and fail to give an address or leave a call back number.”

            “Aren’t you supposed to figure all that out?”

            Delilah is an honors student. Scary, ain’t it?  

            “The best the dispatcher can do is to triangulate to the nearest tower. Which in your case is four miles away just outside Wapsi.”

            “Seems inadequate.”

            “Not. Just give them your address.”

            “My address is like a million digits long, thanks to you people.”

            Wow. Really? And this from a cop’s daughter.

            “It’s actually simple,” I tell her. “The roads are set up and numbered in a grid pattern, starting with 00 on the south and on the east and working up from there.”

            She’s stopped typing and her face is crinkled in consternation.

            “Or you can just read the number on the blue sign in your yard.”

            “Bite me,” she says. The fingers are tripping again; she’s brought a county 911 map up already. “All right, I see what you’re saying. But if I use my GPS I don’t need to know any of this.”

            “Until it fails.”

            “It doesn’t.”

            I give up. “What did you want to talk about?” I say.
            “Nothing, I’ve got enough now.”

            Trouble with girls that age? You can never tell if they’re pissed or just preoccupied. 

Stay up to date with Lucy Crowe and her characters online at: 

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Character Surprise Post: Melanie Martin (The Funeral Singer by Linda Budzinski)

Today I'm welcoming Linda Budzinski to the blogfest to tell us more about the characters in her novel, The Funeral Singer. 

Meet the Characters: Melanie Martin

In THE FUNERAL SINGER, Melanie Martin's best friend, Lana, says to her, "I swear, you are the only girl I know who spends more time fantasizing about her funeral than her wedding."

Lana's right, but who can blame Mel? After all, she's surrounded by death all day long at her father's mortuary. So, what would Mel's funeral look like? If she could have her way:

The service: There'd be lots of music and of course videos. Friends and family would take turns sharing their memories of her--and not just the good ones or the sweet ones or the funny ones, but the bad ones, too. Because that's all a part of who she is.

The dress code: No black! And no jeans! (After all, this isn't a rock concert!)

The flowers: Anything but lilies. As Mel says, "They're gorgeous, but they stink up the place."

The casket: Definitely a wood ... most likely maple. Strong, natural, practical. And reminiscent of the huge tree outside her bedroom window.

The readings: Sara Teasdale's "The New Moon" (of course) and Lamentations 3: 17-26.

The music: There would be all kinds of tunes, but the featured songs would be "Amazing Grace," "You Are More" by Tenth Avenue North, and "White Out" by The Grime (her rock band).

Her epitaph: It definitely would not say, "Beloved Mother/Wife/Daughter/Etc." Perhaps it would quote Harvey Mackay: "Talent is God-given; be humble. Fame is man-given; be thankful. Conceit is self-given; be careful."

Linda Acorn Budzinski decided in the second grade that she wanted to be a “Paperback Writer,” just like in the Beatles song. She majored in journalism in college and now works in marketing and communications. She spent 18 years at a trade association in the funeral service industry, where she discovered that funeral directors are some of the bravest and most compassionate people on earth. Linda lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, Joe, and their chihuahua, Demitria. She has two step-daughters, Eris and Sarah. Published in September 2013 by Swoon Romance, THE FUNERAL SINGER is her debut novel. She is represented by Andrea Somberg of Harvey Klinger Inc. and can be found atwww.lindabudinski.com.

THE FUNERAL SINGER
Available now on Amazon.com!

Publisher: Swoon Romance
www.lindabudzinski.com

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