Edward Ahern
|
Edward Ahern resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign
intelligence and international sales. During that time he lived
in Germany, Japan and England, learned French, German and
Japanese, and visited seventy-six countries. He has his
original wife, but advises that after forty six years they are
both out of warranty. Edward has had over fifty stories
published thus far. He dissipates his free time fly fishing and
shooting.
WEBSITE: http://www.swampgasworks.com
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/bottomstripper
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/edward.ahern.39 |
New Title(s) from Edward Ahern
|
An improbable genii, a color-shifting cloak,
a helpful skunk-some of the things in this shimmering collection
of wonder tales for children. These fairy tales are set in
today's world, in places where the young readers and listeners
already live. Literally a labor of love, this collection was
first written for the author's grandchildren who star in most of
them. The tales are waiting for you to read them aloud to your
children and grandchildren.
Excerpt
Word Count: 33000
Buy at:
Smashwords (all formats) ~
Barnes and Noble ~
Amazon
Price: $ 4.99
|
|
|
ORDER The Witch Made Me Do It PRINT BOOK!
(ISBN #978-1-61950-256-7) |
| |
|
| Excerpts |
The
Witch Made Me Do It |
Care and Feeding
Terry ran crying into the reeds behind his house. He hopped from
tussock to tussock, staying dry until he reached his secret
place. The patch of ground was circled by tall reeds, making him
invisible. Deer bedded there at night, but during the day the
little island was Terry’s alone.
No one else would want to come. Terry peeked eastward through
the reeds at a brackish pond, and across the pond, at the town
landfill. The town’s garbage and broken toys and worn out
clothes and grass clippings had been dumped there for over 50
years. The slope facing Terry was ash-tinged dirt decorated with
patches of weeds and scrub brush.
He dropped down onto a bed of broken reeds warmed by the sun.
The dried reeds crackled and sent out puffs of plant dust. Terry
stared at the landfill without really seeing it. He’d stopped
crying, but was pretty sure he’d cry again tomorrow.
Bruce had hit Terry three times, then pushed him down. Before
that, Bruce had sat behind Terry on the bus ride home,
whispering to Terry what would happen to him once the bus let
them off and before Terry could run home. And he’d done it.
The sinking sun behind him robbed the landfill of colors except
red. And as Terry stared without focusing, wallowing in his
thoughts, something moved out onto the slope across the water.
He squinted. It was a person, no, maybe an animal, something
bigger than Terry. And then it spread its wings.
Terry turned to run back home, but before he could jump onto the
first tussock he heard a leathery whooshing and was picked up
and dropped back onto the islet.
Now there’s a bother. It wasn’t words, but the sense of the
words, uttered without sound right into Terry’s mind.
I am sorry, but I’m going to have to kill and dispose of you.
Terry opened his eyes. A greenish-red something was staring at
him, slowly beating its wings and flexing the talons where its
feet and hands should be. Terry screamed.
Only thing that’ll do is scare away the deer.
Terry screamed again anyway. Then he stood up, getting ready to
run, when a front limb talon grabbed his arm. “Please, please,”
he sobbed. “Let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”
First rule: Never trust a human, they lie to everyone, even to
themselves. No, I’m sorry. If you have any last thoughts, think
them now.
Despite his fear, Terry began to stare at the thing clutching
him. Its thorax was lit from within by greenish and yellowish
lights that slowly swirled from one spot to another, vanished,
and rekindled. It didn’t really have a face, it had a snout—with
flaring nostrils and large pointed teeth. Its black wings were
skin, not feathers, with pronounced veins and tendons. Smoke
roiled from its mouth, and something was waving behind its back.
“I didn’t do anything to you.”
Doesn’t matter. You know that I exist—you die. But I’m not a
wild beast. If you prefer, I can drown you. And although it
makes perfect sense to eat you, I can leave you to rot in the
ground or the pond if you wish.
“You—you can’t do that, you’ll be arrested.”
The skin around its mouth curled up, exposing more pointy teeth.
We’ve been able to hide from you for two millennia; I doubt the
police would know where to look.
“Two millennia? But you just came out of the landfill. Do you
live there?”
Look, Terry is it? I wish you’d quit asking questions so we
could just get on with this. One bite and it’s pretty well over.
But, since you asked, you’d almost exterminated us when we
discovered the garbage dumps you humans were piling up next to
your cities and towns. You’ve been providing us with food and
hiding places ever since.
“And you can eat garbage?”
We swallow all kinds of plant and animal material whole and cook
it into energy—grass, wood, rats, mixed garbage, it doesn’t
matter; we’re better omnivores than you are. The digestion
generates as much heat and light as one of your furnaces.
“But what are you?”
Ah. You used to call us dragons and spend a considerable amount
of time hunting us down and killing us. Once we’d been hiding in
the trash heaps for a century or two you switched to killing
other things.
The dragon tightened his hold on Terry’s shoulder, talon points
pushing through his skin. I can just bite your head off if you
wish. It’s messy, but quick.
Terry’s thoughts had been churning, but it was like trying to
stir cold oatmeal. “Wait, ah, what should I call you?’
Hrraushtu. The sound is like clearing spit from the back of your
throat.
“Hrraushtu, there must be things that you want but can’t always
get living in a garbage pile.”
Hrraushtu threw Terry back down onto the reed bed and stared at
him. Of course. Fresh fruit, we so rarely get fresh fruit. And
chocolates. We almost never find chocolates that aren’t all
dried out and rocky. He flapped his wings, talons curling in the
process. But no point wanting what you can’t have. Sit still,
little one, while I open you up.
“No, no, you don’t understand. I can bring you these
things—chocolates and fresh fruit and meat.”
|
| Back to
The Witch Made Me Do It |
| |
| top |
|
