Good morning, everyone!
This has been a pretty cool week so far. Fiction River #1 – Unnatural Worlds – released this week with my brand new Diz & Dee story “Here, Kitty Kitty.” I always love getting contributor copies. There’s just something about holding the book in my hands — I don’t think I’ll ever get past the awesomeness of that. *g* If you’d like your very own copy, it’s available at Amazon in both ebook and paperback, and also from Ella Distribution.
I also have a new release from Thunder Valley Press. “Bluesman” takes me back to the days when I actually played guitar– in front of an audience, no less — only thank goodness, I never had an experience like the blues guitarist in this story. Enjoy!
Published by Thunder Valley Press
Copyright © 2013 by Annie Reed
Cover art Copyright © Depositphotos | InConcert
Johnny ripped the wrapping paper off what he knew had to be another lame-ass inspirational poster as his momma belted out the last off-key strains of “Happy Birthday.”
He’d put her call on speaker so he could hear her sing while he opened her present. There for a minute, she’d actually made his cell phone rattle around the metal top of the battered TV tray he used for a table in the low-rent motel room where he lived.
She didn’t have the greatest singing voice, his momma. She used to tell him he yanked whatever musicality she had right on out of her when he was born and took it all for himself.
What she lacked in skill, she more than made up for with enthusiasm and volume. Every year she insisted on singing to him on his birthday whether they were together or not. This year found him in Vegas trying to get a gig. She was still back home in Mississippi. As far as Johnny knew, she’d never left the delta, not in her entire life.
“Happy birthday, baby!” she said when she was done singing. “How you like my present?”
For once, Johnny didn’t know what to say.
The posters his momma sent always had sayings like Soar With The Eagles or Believe In Yourself coupled with photographs of high mountain peaks covered in snow or beautiful, sandy beaches, the sun setting low over the water.
She was a great believer in the power of positive thinking. Life had pretty much sucked the positive out of him, but every year he still thanked her for her gift and said something nice about it because she was his momma and she loved him, and it was only polite.
This year he couldn’t quite bring himself to say “Cool picture, momma,” or “You’re so good to me, thinking about me like that,” like he did usually did, even though he always threw the poster away as soon as he got off the phone.
“You got me dead rock stars?” he said instead.
(read the rest of the story here)