Author: Sarah A. Hoyt

First, at whatever time you drag in: Yes, I’ll be finishing Rhodes to Hell (I HOPE TODAY). Yes, I’m up because Indy needed food and every time I ignored him, he’d run downstairs and I got tired of trying to figure out what the crashes and drags were. I’ll tell you sometime. Not disastrous, some of it very funny. When he brought me the bag of treats he’d been trying to open (it was bitten all over and covered in cat spit) I finally got up. However, I also had phone calls with friends that delayed me getting here. So, if you drag in at 4 pm, that’s okay. (I might finish Rhodes tomorrow. I keep getting phone calls. And they’re amazing. you guys are the best.)

Second, before you take off your party hat….

Third: Now take off your party hat, get yourself a cup of King Harv’s Neptune or Harmony Coffees Nocturne (What can I say, I like N coffees, apparently) from the coffee room, get your tablet and sit down. This is a working meeting. Afterwards there will be time to hit youtube and find the leftist meltdowns and other amusements. For now, let’s talk about the long and difficult road ahead.

I’ll start by getting out of the way “Sarah, why were you so scared?” Oh, honeys, because it turns out my brain was working the same way as Elon’s. I’m surprised people on our side were making fun of us with “Oh, don’t be stupid, this isn’t the last election!”

None of us thought it would be the last election. Only the last meaningful on. My fears perfectly match Elon’s. I was afraid they’d consolidate their hold on our election process, so that we’d become essentially California, a one party state where only democrats can win because the fraud and corruption is built in.

THAT was the fear eating at my brain. That and knowing how immense the fraud was and how huge the abyss we’d fall into. Note, I’ve recently saw the result of a society without a first amendment. It ain’t pretty. They think they are free. The level they’re propagandized exceeds everything the MSM tries to do to us. And there are things like Spain tearing down her hydroelectric plants and dams on eco freak bs, then getting floods and blaming it on “global warming.” Once you tumble down that abyss you have trouble getting back up ever again. Looks at California.

The win yes, took work, but it was still a miracle. If you’re religious, go on knees and thank Him that he’s still looking out for fools, drunkards and the United States of America. (The last, greatest hope of mankind.)

It was a miracle.

Now they built this miracle themselves to an extent. Despite working to get us to where we were before the election for at least 100 years, they destroyed their chances themselves to an extent. They can’t help it. Evil oft doth Evil mar, amIright? Let me count the ways (not exhaustive because mostly asleep:)

• If they’d let Trump take the win in 2020, they could have stymied him as they did the first four years. They’d have taken some losses, but they’d probably now be taking a genuine (not more frauded than their normal) wins and be able to undo everything he did. Instead, they created their own destructor.
  
• They could have taken it slowly these four years and not tried to import the world in illegal migrants. Boil the frog slowly, and most people wouldn’t have been pinched enough to realize their lives were at stake.
  
• They could have left Trump alone in retirement. I’m convinced he only ran because he knew otherwise once he was off the public eye, they’d kill him somehow.
  
• Going back further, they could not have humiliated Trump by making fun of his ambition of becoming president.
  
• They could not have transed Elon’s child. And a lot of other people’s children.

Which is handy. Because their incompetence and hubris helps. Without them, we frankly wouldn’t have a chance.

On the other hand, we can’t trust them to do all the work for us.

The left has been PATIENTLY building this trap for Western Civilization for a hundred years. Meanwhile the right has been going to work, getting married, raising fat babies, and only paying attention to politics when the situation is dire.

I’m sorry. We can’t do that anymore. Obviously, we have an assist of some sort going on, whether you think it’s Richard Fernandez “conscious memes” or G-d or even the collective subconscious. Or just collectivist stupid and the fact their “solutions” never work.

However we’re still in the same trap we were before. There are “Swing states” because most states have been pinned down (I believe mostly by fraud in their own most populous cities) and cannot change from dem. Even if they want to.

This must change, and it must change fast.

The most important item on our agenda is to clean up the elections. Get rid of the fraud, and do it now. As fast as you can. Apply all your spare energies to this. Find and expose all the fraud. I believe Elon and Trump have that on their agenda too.

Second, get rid of illegals and pseudo refugees and lock down immigration (legal) to a manageable number of people we can use and have a need for per year. Ignore color, orientation, etc. Just people we can use (I don’t mean HB1s which are destroying our kids’ futures, no. Those games by companies NEED to stop) and who want TO BECOME AMERICANS. And make Fit in or Fuck Off a thing. You come here, you learn English and you FIT IN. No handouts and no accommodations. No more Oprima 1 por Espanol.
Actually, heaven help me, and my own bias is showing, but I’d start deportations on the basis of “Do you speak enough English to get by?” If you’re not legal, and you need help to transact every day business in English, out you go. Now. Yesterday. If your parents are illegal but you were born here, you have a year to become fluent enough in English. Otherwise, we don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here. No more accommodations, no more handouts, no more kids in “bilingual” meaning Spanish only classes in our public schools.

Third – this is a stretch goal and I don’t think we can do it in four years (though Dobbs surprised me too) but the constitution guarantees every state a “Republican form of government” but states don’t have an electoral college. They’re direct democracy. This assumes the interests of NYC and rural NY are the same, and is therefore utterly wrong and oppressive. Yes, I know it’s the result of a SC decision. SO WHAT? It was wrong and it must be reversed. Start talking about it/agitating for it. Free California, Illinois and NY. Oh, and my beloved Colorado too.

Fourth – let’s agitate to get as close to “one day, paper ballots, purple fingers” as we can. Okay?

Fifth – The press. The wretched press. And entertainment. Starve them out. If you want to know what they’re saying find ways that don’t give them money. AND WORK ON THE ALTERNATIVES. (I’m good at that.)

Sixth – some of you got stuck with “ranked choice”. This is so fraudable, it’s worse than vote by mail. Start working on reversing that. Education, agitation, WORK.

Seventh – let’s recognize the Huns — hello Steve N! — who have been doing the ground work against fraud for years. Keep up the good work, and may many people join you.

There are other things. Our education is appalling. Trump is going to give us a big assist at that as is Delos D. Harriman Elon Musk. Also at deregulating so we can be productive. But we have to do the work too.

To be clear, what we won is the right to fight on. It is enough. We are creative and smart and capable.

One side of this: get as healthy as you can. This is a long fight, and some of us are not spring chickens, as this stupid pneumonia brought home to me.

Now, take a break and watch tasty tasty democrat meltdown videos. post the best in the comments.

Tomorrow we start the work of restoring the republic. I’ll be unpacking what we need to do over the last several days.

In the end, we win, they lose. It won’t be easy nor simple, but we owe it to the the future yet unborn and to the graves of our ancestors (real or ideological.)

It’s going to be an amazing fight.

What a time to be alive!

Go.

Because some people, including my husband, kept giving me election updates.

So, I’m going to bed now. The post tomorrow will be late.

But there will be a post, because it’s important. There is still a plate of awful in front of us right now. There will be an economic crash. Now we just have hope of crawling back out and reaching for the stars.

And we will.

The speech from Independence Day is in my mind tonight:
We will not go down into that night, we will not surrender without a fight. Today we declare our independence day.

G-d bless you, you lunatics. Go to bed now. My cats are leading me that way, and I’m going.

Or I can’t plot it. The election, I mean. I’m terrified because it’s going to hurt very badly.

Yesterday a friend of mine told me, in absolute seriousness that I keep telling G-d he needs a Writer’s Group. (Yes, that means I’m going to end up you know where, but that’s not the point right now.) Anyway, he thinks that’s why G-d took Terry Pratchett early, so he helps Him with turning the corner on this installment of America! the serial.

He says you can tell because two days before the election, everything went squirrely. We have our very own Lord Winder — Biden, even if he’s fond of ice-cream, not cake — and he was deposed by Lord Snapcase — Kamala, laugh and everything.

All I can tell you is that if he’s right, we have a chance in a million of winning this, which in Pratchett lands would make it guaranteed….

…. anyway, all this to say this is an open thread if y’all want to discuss it.

As for me, I’m trying NOT to drink. Which means I’m going to try to finish a (short) novel tonight and tomorrow.

Pray for me, because I’ll probably have a heart attack either way.

Anyway, the novel is another Rhodes, I already have 10k words. I’m going to post it in public on all my substacks, and then remove it to publish G-d willing. If I don’t have a heart attack….

If you guys are also wanting some distraction, you can read here.

Mene, Mene, Tekel, and UPharsin by Padre

It was the night of 12 October, 539 B.C. The city of Babylon was on edge. The Persian army under Cyrus the Great was camped outside the walls. The Babylonian army had been defeated by the Persians in recent days, the outlying provinces were revolting against the rule of King Nabonidus and his son Belshazzar, and there was discontent against their rule even in the capital city. That evening, Belshazzar, the son of the king and defacto ruler of the empire decided to throw a party.

He, 1000 of his noble sycophants, his and their concubines, and assorted servants gathered in one of the halls of the palace and partied. They partied with the normal restraint Ancient Near-Eastern nobility, which is to say, none. The debauchery flowed with the wine, making a frat party or a Marine 4-day weekend barracks party look like a child’s birthday.

Then, deep in his cups, Belshazzar called for his servants to bring out the gold and silver goblets that his predecessor on the throne of Babylon, King Nebuchadnezzar, had taken from the various temple and peoples that he had conquered. Including those looted from the temple of the God of Jerusalem. And he and his nobles toasted the gods of Babylon with these sacred objects.

  Suddenly, Belshazzar froze. Across the room, the fingers of a human hand appeared, wrote on the wall, then disappeared. All the drunkenness vanished from his mind, his legs gave way, and he began to scream for the wisemen of Babylon to come interpret the writing for him.

The astrologers and magi came to try, but none of them were able to read and interpret it for him. The king began to panic even more, promising greater and greater gifts to those who could give him the answer, eventually promising that they would be robed in purple, have a gold chain hung around their neck, and be made the third highest ruler in the kingdom. But no one was able to interpret the writing.

Hearing the commotion, the queen (more probably, the queen mother) came in and spoke to King Belshazzar. She remembered a man in the kingdom who had been an advisor to King Nebuchadnezzar, an exile from the kingdom of Judah, and suggested that Belshazzar call him. “Your predecessor called him when he had a problem he couldn’t solve. The wisdom of the holy gods resided in him and Nebuchadnezzar appointed him as chief of the magi. Call him and he will be able to read the writing and interpret it for you.”

So, King Belshazzar called for this Daniel and had him brought in. Now, Daniel was an old man at this point, somewhere around 85 or 86. But the king of Babylon called for him and he was brought before him.

Belshazzar pointed to the writing and asked Daniel to interpret it, telling him that he would be clothed in purple, have a gold chain placed around his neck, and be proclaimed the third highest ruler in the kingdom.

Daniel nodded, looked at the writing, took in the scene, and began to speak.

He told Belshazzar to keep the gifts. He reminded him of the things that he had seen and known over the last couple decades. Of an incident in the life of Nebuchadnezzar where he had a mental breakdown, believing he was a cow and eating grass like an ox until he acknowledged that God ruled over the kingdoms of the world and placed over them whom he chose. That despite knowing this, he had chosen to use the cups from the temple in Jerusalem to toast his own gods of gold, silver, wood, iron, stone, and bronze instead of the living God, in whose hand is the very breath of his life. And so, He sent the hand to Belshazzar.

As to the writing, Daniel told him, “What is written is this: Mene, Mene, Tekel, and Parsin. And this is what it means. Mene- God has numbered (mene) the days of your kingdom and brought it to an end. Tekel- You have been weighed (tekel) in the balance and found wanting. Peres (the singular of Parsin)- Your kingdom is divided (peres) and given to the Medes and Persians.” (Note that peres also sounds like the Aramaic for Persia, as well.)

And it was so. That very night, Cyrus the Great had his engineers divert the flow of the River Euphrates north of the walls of Babylon into a series of irrigation ditches and the water flowing under the walls of Babylon fell to the point that his forces could wade under the walls. Belshazzar was executed in his bed that night and a couple weeks later, Cyrus entered Babylon to the cheers of the crowds. Babylon had fallen and would never rise again as Persia dominated the world for the next two hundred years until the rise of Alexander.

So, why do we care? Why should we pay attention to an ancient story about the transition of empires and the overthrow of kings?
Because the lesson of Daniel 5 is still the same. God is still on His throne. God is still in charge of the world and nothing happens that is not known and prepared for beforehand.

It doesn’t matter what happens today. The forces conspiring against America and the American people can fraud all they want, cheat all they want, and try to hold on to power by every means at their disposal. They will only reign for as long as God allows them.

God already knows what will happen. The best thing we as His children can do is to pray, vote as best as we are able, and let Him be in control.

Ladies, Gentlemen and reticulated giraffes: Tomorrow is the last day to vote in the US for the 2024 election.

At least it’s the last way to vote legally. If you’re one of those manufacturing votes by the boat load and driving boxes of shadily sourced ballots around, you’re reading the wrong blog. No one on the right does that, because we’d get whapped by the highly partisan media.

If you’re a foreigner and you came here to beg us not to “set the clock back 8 years” you should be aware you’ve been so far misinformed by your media that what you think you know about the US is an alternate reality. What you think you know about the US is roughly the equivalent of people who believed the fake War of the World’s broadcast and has no connection whatsoever to what we here know. I wouldn’t believe how much you’ve been lied to if I hadn’t just spent 10 days in Europe. Let me point out our media is now a wholly owned subsidiary of the Democrat/socialist party. And that only the very old and shut ins believe it. The whole reality they’re constructing is floridly and obviously against our “lying eyes.” (And wallets. And ability to live as we did four years ago.) What you should ask yourself is…. what the heck sense does that slogan even make? Eight years ago was the end of Obama’s presidency. Wasn’t that y’all’s beau ideal?
Or short and sweet if none of the above makes sense to you: Blow out it out your hole, go frustrate yourself and leave us the heck alone. Because you won’t like us when we’re angry.

Now, for us Americans.

Tomorrow is the last voting day for this election, and this mostly black pilled, more than half sure the fraud will carry it blogger is begging you with tears in her eyes to go out and vote for Trump.

I know some of you — I know my libertarian people! — are going to say “But I don’t like Trump.”

Fine. You are not required to like him. Who have you liked that you voted for? Because I’ve been scratching my head, and I kind of liked Steve Forbes when I voted for him on the primary. But he probably would have been a disaster if he’d won the nomination, let alone the presidency. Less or more of a disaster than W? I don’t know. Search me.

“But Trump is a bully!” — is he really? Yes, he says the unacceptable, aloud, but why is it unacceptable. Is it because he’s punching down, or because he’s saying what we’ve been conditioned to regard as forbidden? Because he is punching up while saying it. What he said about Liz Chenney was said about her father and W sometimes in sky writing or the ever popular (on the left) papier mache puppets. And yet– He’s the one called mean and having people horrified he said it. The left says a lot meaner things, and it is actual bullying, because they can cancel you, your job, your family, your family’s job, your ability to live. He’s not a bully. He’s fighting back. Which is why he has a chance at all.

“But I don’t agree with all his policies.” Oh, hell, child. I don’t agree with all the policies I would implement if I had the power. I’d probably see saw madly on things like tariffs depending on my mood. And let’s talk about the fact that I’m becoming very leery of outright all out drug legalization (While still thinking it’s sometimes better than the enforcement system we now have. Right now.) And then there’s– No. I’d be here all day.

You don’t have to agree with all his policies. If he implements everything he says he wants to it will be hilarious because the resulting train wreck will cause the federal government to implode and have to reorganize. A lot of his policies will be stopped by the people who have the actual authority. And for some of them I’m sad.

Take the pro-lifers saying he “betrayed” them because he flaps lips about six weeks being too early for restrictions. You know, if you’re secular I can see that. Particularly if you are or know women in the hookup culture. Because six weeks you barely know you’re pregnant. For others of us all abortion is unacceptable, but then again we’re not into hookup culture and never were. The point here is what Trump thinks about it or doesn’t means bupkis. He’s not going to legalize abortion till whenever by a stroke of the pen, because he can’t. Sending it back to the states means any federal interference is now impossible.

Unless, of course, Harris gets in because she intends to pack the supreme court and stop the filibuster and …. well, destroy the rule of law and the Republic.

And that, ladies and gentlemen and particularly giraffes is why I point out you should vote for Trump. You are not making the choice in mid-air, and if you write in a name, my answer is “would you please grow up?” Yes, you have a right to write in a name. You have a right to sing the blues. You have a right to rock and roll. You have a right to be a complete idiot too. For now at least. And by G-d, you’re exerting that right to be a complete idiot.

Because the choice isn’t cake or death. The choice isn’t Trump or the ideal candidate of your choice, and all your protest vote is telling your fellow Americans is “Screw you guys, I’m going home.” For values of home that include the adult fun camps that you know Commie LaWhorish is just dying to revive. (How do you know? Because she says that Trump will put you in camps.)

If you think the two choices are remotely equivalent, you haven’t looked at the choices, or you drink the ink the mainstream press sells by the bucket full.

No matter how bad Trump turns out to be — What, you think I’m thrilled about the alliance with RFK Jr? — he is not a puppet of the shadowy cabal that ran Obama, then Biden and now Commie LaWhorish. And that Cabal has a sort of corporatist communism in mind for all of us. If you think they were bad in Biden’s term, with law fare against Trump and persecution of everyone who opposed them, and attempts at censorship? You ain’t seen anything yet.

This is why I’m referring to tomorrow as the day the world ends. Though I’m being pessimistic, of course. It probably won’t be till the end of the week.

I’ll be hanging out here with Writer’s Tears and the comments, because I’m hanging on by the imaginary strength of my frayed nerves.

Because, yes, regardless of who you vote for, the fraud is going to be almost impossible to out vote. And fraud is always for the left, because no one stops them.

So, why bother voting?

MAKE THEM FIGHT FOR IT. MAKE THEM CHEAT. MAKE THEM SWEAT. And let your fellow Americans know they’re not alone.

And who knows, maybe a miracle will occur. We’ve already had a couple this cycle. Maybe we’ll have another one, and maybe Trump will win.

I’m not crazy. That doesn’t mean ice cream and cookies. It doesn’t mean everything will be wonderful.

How do I put this? We’ll be in for a massive collapse of the economy either way. That 12k jobs created last month and the fact people are struggling to make ends meet already…. it’s going to get bad. It’s going to get really bad.

The difference is if Kamala is in power they’ll mask it, so you’ll have the additional fun of being gaslit and told how wonderful everything is. Also Kamala is really hot on the whole taxing on unrealized assets, which slowly will make all of us paupers (does own nothing and be happy (no I won’t) ring a bell?

With Trump and the team he’s bringing in…. well, maybe there is no way to get us out of trouble. BUT Trump has assembled a team o people who at least have some connection to business and reality. And in his first team he did things I didn’t expect him to be able to do. There is a chance. A threadbare thin chance, but a chance.

He’ll also stem the tide over the Southern border and perhaps cut our extending of benefits to the world, so we won’t bankrupt ourselves to try to appease the unappeasable.

But most of all it will halt — if not reverse — our slide into actual communism. No, it’s not hyperbole, I’m not crazy. A lot of other people with first hand experience of hard socialism and communism (there is really no difference except at the nitpicky definitional level) have been sounding the alarm. As have survivors of fascism.

No, if it comes here it won’t endure, because there isn’t an America we can escape to, and there isn’t an America that can feed us. Even if we do what communist empires always do and conquer other countries to steal from them, no country can keep us even minimally fed.

It won’t endure. But it can hurt us very badly.

And I’m very much afraid that’s what we’re in for. Because fraud.

But maybe a miracle will occur. I’m not sure my faith is quite that strong, but I’m trying. And tomorrow’s post will be by one of you who is a man of faith and the post is more religious than I’d normally post.

And between now and then I’ll be praying.

Look, if you can force yourself to pray do so. Even if you’re an atheist. I think just the novelty of you praying might shock the Author into changing the plot. Who knows?

It’s worth a try. Because what we’re facing is horrifying.

May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He make his light to shine upon you.

And may we pass through this spot dry shod and arrive on the other side in our Constitutional Republic.

It could happen. There is a bare chance. Roll for a miracle. Prepare for the worst.

Go!

This is a brief post, because I don’t want you guys to worry. Real post in an hour or so.

I THINK I’m better. Think? Well, there is a lot less coughing. That can be good or bad, honestly, but the main reason I think I’m better is that I’m thinking of all sorts of inadvisable stuff to do and have trouble keeping myself to a sedate pace of recovery.

Because I want to clean and reorganize closets and cabinets, fix the laundry area, and oh yeah, write a couple of books!

This is usually the signal I’m getting better, combined with actually wanting to eat, and also being very impatient with everything.

So, I’m better. For one, the ear infection is almost gone, the tightness in the chest far less. But it’s very slow, and I’m impatient.

At the same time, I’m aware I’m over sixty. And I swear when I’m over this, I’m going to exercise more regularly and eat better. Because the last few months have been a disaster of sorts, which isn’t helping anything. (I don’t overeat per-se. I’m a grazer. The problem is when I’m stressed, I only eat bland and vaguely sweet, which means a lot of carbs.)

I’m also very aware of what I call the “Don Camillo has a fever” effect. In Giovanni de Guareschi’s books the eponymous priest is often stricken down with a fever when he’s otherwise over-exercised and will do something stupid otherwise.

From The Little World of Don Camillo:
But Don Camillo was beyond recovering his composure and if he hadn’t promptly developed a high temperature, the Lord only knew what he might have done. And the Lord obviously did know, because He sent him to bed for two days with a fever that laid him as low and weak as a half-drowned kitten.

Given my current level of panic over the election and black-pilled-ish state about the fraud (which I think EVERYONE is underestimating the magnitude of) either G-d or my subconscious made sure I was REALLY ill, so that the real world is kind of a distant worry as I try to heal. You pick which one according to your beliefs.

However, I seem to have turned the corner. And if I haven’t, one of my gonzo family, probably younger kid or his wife will drag me to the doctor again.

I’m probably not going to die. In the long range of things to worry about, do not worry about me.

Book Promo

If you wish to send us books for next week’s promo, please email to bookpimping at outlook dot com. If you feel a need to re-promo the same book do so no more than once every six months (unless you’re me or my relative. Deal.) One book per author per week. Amazon links only. Oh, yeah, by clicking through and buying (anything, actually) through one of the links below, you will at no cost to you be giving a portion of your purchase to support ATH through our associates number. A COMMISSION IS EARNED FROM EACH PURCHASE.*Note that I haven’t read most of these books (my reading is eclectic and “craving led”,) and apply the usual cautions to buying. I reserve the right not to run any submission, if cover, blurb or anything else made me decide not to, at my sole discretion.– SAH

FROM ALMA BOYKIN: Healer, Hunters, and Hearts: Familiar Generations Book Seven

Birds of mischief flock together …

Healer and Hunter, Deborah Chan Lestrang makes her way in the world as an herbalist and Healer who also hunts fell creatures when needed. Tensions inside her extended family call for a healer of hearts as well—a task far trickier, perhaps, than easing physical pain.

Weaker magic workers report being harassed by birds, birds inside a shield. Foul creatures appear, brought by a gate-spell cast by a coven. Or was it?

An old ill resurfaces …

Word comes from the north of a new drug, one that seems to grant magical abilities to those who take it. And that does not kill them as quickly as heart’s fire did. Could the birds of ill omen and the new pharmaceutical be related?


Deborah must find a path between duties and desires, the past and the present. But she does not travel alone. And she is her parents’ daughter. If she can survive Master Lestrang’s chili and his curries, she can banish abyssal evil. Maybe.

FROM GENE LOOMIS: THEY BITE

When retired secret agent Guy Devlin answers a call from his old boss, Talbot—known simply as “Chief”—he has no idea the Agency is about to thrust him into its most perilous mission yet.

Devlin’s mission: infiltrate an ultra-secret facility, Project Cerberus, led by the brilliant but dangerously ambitious Dr. Pandora Marx. Her work, blending human and animal DNA to create hybrid superweapons, has reached catastrophic proportions. Creatures engineered in the hidden Pacific lab have broken free, and with intelligence, strength, and an insatiable thirst for survival, they are beyond any threat humanity has ever faced.

But it’s not just the creatures that make Project Cerberus nearly unreachable. The island itself is a fortress of mystery—its location concealed from satellites, and an electromagnetic field that renders all approaching planes and boats dead in the water.

With his team, Devlin races against the clock to rescue what can be saved and destroy what cannot. As the creatures multiply and evolve, their intelligence grows, making it clear that Devlin and his crew are not just facing monsters but a new apex predator. It’s a game of survival in the wildest, most treacherous terrain imaginable, where the lines between hunter and hunted disappear.

Will Devlin stop Project Cerberus before the creations it unleashed consume the world? Or will humanity fall prey to these creatures that should never have been?

FROM E. L. LYONS: Starlight Jewel: Gifts of the Auldtree, Book One

The Starlight Company’s survival depends on thieving and assassinating without upsetting the humans around them.

Axly, like all hybrids, is Company property—from the rings on her fingers to her woody bones and the skin that covers them. Her rank as the Starlight Jewel affords her some freedom in the city of Minalav, where the hybrids of the Starlight Company follow a code to keep balance between humans and sprygans. Axly isn’t bound by this code, especially when it conflicts with protecting her human half-brother. She’ll do anything to keep him safe—even if it means damaging company property or destroying Minalav’s balance to do it.

General Arthur Grimwalt is only in Minalav to secure a deal to protect his country, not be romanced and robbed by the infamous Starlight Palace’s lavish balls. Securing such a deal has left Grim with more than he bargained for and vague memories as to how it happened.

If the Starlight Company won’t let Axly go, then she’ll give the gluttons what they want and more. No one leaves this tale unscathed.

FROM PAM UPHOFF: Origin Stories

Six stories in the Troystvennyy Soyuz on the run up to and during the Fall of the Alliance.

Young people with problems with the brutal society, and all too often their own families. Young men and women reaching for a better future, as everything changes around them.

FROM R. KENWARD JONES: The Face in the Grave

The Fratelli crime family’s accountant, Tony Diderrick, is dead, which is a big problem for him, but a bigger problem for lots of other people…
His two wives, one of whom knows he’s dead, the other of whom doesn’t know where he is, and neither of whom knows the other exists.
Richie Fratelli, head of the Fratelli crime family, who wants to know where his accountant went, and more importantly, what he did with over half a billion dollars of family money.
Jack Franklin, the deep cover FBI agent assigned to keep an eye on a man so high on the most wanted list there’s not a number to match how wanted he is.
Stick Gordon, a masochistic hit man determined to find Diderrick and settle up old accounts, and Sandy Anderson and Carla Dyson, college schoolmates and star-crossed lovers in search of answers about their dead father.
All these players converge on a hillside graveyard in the Virginia countryside, hoping to unlock the secrets the man entombed took to his death; some seeking wealth and power, some seeking glory or revenge, and some seeking closure. Who gets there first and what they do when they get there will determine whether the mystery ends in tragedy or redemption.

EDITED BY WILLIAM JOSEPH ROBERTS AND TIM CAJUN BISCHOFF: It Came From the Trailer Park: Volume 4

You hear the word Vacation and it brings up thoughts of water, sand, refreshing drinks, and fun times.

Of course, when your budget matches your monthly grocery bill, expectations have to be lowered and surprises expected, and not usually the good kind.

With thirteen stories of action, adventure, horror, and down right knee slapping fun, you’d best buckle up butter cup, you’re going on a trailer park Vacation!

FROM MARY CATELLI: Enchantments And Dragons

A wizard must produce justice enough to satisfy a dragon. A young man tries to rob a tiger’s lair. An enchantress tries to keep a court safe while they ignore the perils of misusing her magic. A lady finds that court intrigues can spread even to the countryside. And more tales. Includes “Over the Sea To Me,” “Dragonfire and Time”, “The Maze, the Manor, and the Unicorn”, “The White Menagerie”, “The Dragon’s Cottage,” “Jewel of the Tiger,” and “The Sword Breaks.”

FROM HOLLY CHISM: Fire and Forge

Long after their worshipers are forgotten, the gods are still holding up a corner of the bar at the Godshead Tavern. Some have learned since their stories became myths, some never did, and some are still finding old curses coming back to haunt…

Poseidon wants Artemis to lift Medusa’s curse so he and Medusa can resume relations, while Chronos seeks another chance to be whole and get to know his kids.

Meanwhile, Ares falls head over heels for a mortal half his size who manages to kick his ass not once but twice, and Loki’s son is trying to rebuild his life (and his credit) after a short marriage to Pandora.

Life and love runs smoothly for no one, god or mortal. And another disaster is brewing…

FROM LEIGH KIMMEL: She Dreams Day and Night

Nancy White they called her, a good, solid name for a troubled girl. But she knew her father had called her by another name, before he disappeared through the gate into another world of strange stars and stranger moons. No matter how hard the staff of Hildred House try to force her to forget, she remembers. And longs to reopen the gate, to rejoin her father on that alien shore where cloud-waves break.

Vignettes by Luke, Mary Catelli and ‘Nother Mike.

So what’s a vignette? You might know them as flash fiction, or even just sketches. We will provide a prompt each Sunday that you can use directly (including it in your work) or just as an inspiration. You, in turn, will write about 50 words (yes, we are going for short shorts! Not even a Drabble 100 words, just half that!). Then post it! For an additional challenge, you can aim to make it exactly 50 words, if you like.

We recommend that if you have an original vignette, you post that as a new reply. If you are commenting on someone’s vignette, then post that as a reply to the vignette. Comments — this is writing practice, so comments should be aimed at helping someone be a better writer, not at crushing them. And since these are likely to be drafts, don’t jump up and down too hard on typos and grammar.

If you have questions, feel free to ask.

Your writing prompt this week is: SCARED

There will be memes in a few meme… moments, but– Not because I think I owe you a report, but because I know you guys worry, I thought I’d report on my doctor’s visit in a post, not just comments.

Turns out it’s pneumonia, a bit of bronchitis, and a double ear infection. Which sort of explains why I haven’t been able to work other than blog posts here, not even fun blog posts in the substacks or patreon. Explains but doesn’t excuse of course. Yes, I’m still feeling guilty about long silence.

I’ve been medicated. Don’t see much effect yet. If no visible effect by Monday maybe I should go back.

Anyway, it’s difficult to be this sick as we gear up for civil war. No, not the elections or anything national.

The right blogsphere has been riven — riven I SAY — by an essential and irreconcilable disagreement: Egg nog, or cider?

I’ve declared for cider — warm, with a stick of cinnamon — but things are so bad I live with a nogger, myself. (Even if he’s a nogger splinterist: cold, strictly no alcohol.)

Honestly, I don’t like being this sick as things head up. What if noggers come to the door and force me to consume their noxious beverage? The resident nogger would likely open the door to them!

It’s horrifying how quickly these things can escalate.

All I can do is plead for inter-beverationist understanding and tolerance.

When in the course of human events, a Sarah is still trying to cough up a lung after three weeks and a course of antibiotics and furthermore, when this interferes with the writing, she has to be dragged — kicking, screaming and swearing in four existing languages AND a made up one — to the doctor.

She doesn’t like doctors except the ones who comment here, and she sure hopes she doesn’t have to go to the hospital. They kill people there. (No, really. Iatrogenic events are one of the primary causes of the death in the US.)

I’m under threat, though, by family members AND fans. And that last is very scary because you guys are resourceful and determined. I don’t want anyone driving here over two days just to drag me to the doctor, so I surrender right now.

Anyway, I will try to post when I get back. Considering it took me till now to be out of bed and functional, this might not work.