BookBug's World…

reading, writing, crocheting, living….


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B is for…

bBeyond… #6

Long, long time ago (just about 2 years I believe!) I started writing something. Not quite sure what was it to be honest, lets just say simply: a story.

If interested – you can find the previous parts here:

#1, #2, #3, #4, #5

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Is it the same cabin?’ – a crazy thought shot through Anise’s head. ‘Impossible. I walked and walked, probably for hours!’ She looked around… there was a man sitting on that same chair, that was tipped over… or was it a similar house? But then how many log cabins can there be on this little island???

‘You’re safe now’.

Anise jumped and a little scream slipped out of her mouth. The man had very gentle voice. And very warm smile. The unkempt hair was long and seemed to be connected with the beard, all in the same, dark brown shade, speckled with single gray hair. He had a big white rabbit on his lap.

Seriously, what’s with those rabbits?

The man pointed at one of the chairs, inviting her to sit down.
‘It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. I meant no harm. But it wasn’t safe for you to be here before…’

All of a sudden she felt tired, and thought that sitting wasn’t actually a bad idea… Anise looked at the man with questions in her big,calm eyes.
‘But those two…’ she started, but stopped immediately. How was she to ask about the two bodies in the cabin… And was it the same cabin they are in now?

The man got up of the chair and went to the far corner of the room they were sitting in. It seemed as if that was the kitchen corner, with a little wood-burning stove in the middle of it. He took the kettle of the stove and poured the water into two mugs. As he brought them to the table Anise was sitting at, she saw there was something written on them. Carefully the man put the mugs in front of her. ‘Truth’ and ‘Future’ – that’s what was written on the mugs.

‘You have to make your choice, Anise’ – the man said.

‘How do you know my name?’- Anise asked, too surprised to be scared.

‘Can’t tell you before you make your choice’. The man’s voice was very gentle but firm at the same time.

‘Can you tell me your name? Since you know mine…’ Anise didn’t plan on bargaining, just thought it was only fair, since he knows her name…

‘My name is Abe.’

Why does this name sound familiar? Where have she heard it before?

‘Do I know you…?’ she whispered.

‘Your choice, Anise’ Abe persisted.

She looked into his eyes as if she’d expect to find the answer… There was something familiar in them… She felt strangely safe in his presence. Couldn’t explain why, but she had the impression she knew him forever…

Anise looked at the mugs again and reached her hand…

 


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A – is for… Anne ;)

aOf Green Gables of course!

Do not remember when was it exactly, or how old was I when I read it for the first time… 11?12? ania_z_zielonego_wzgorza

This was the cover:

I remember when I borrowed the first “Anne” book from the library. I went there shortly after and asked for the next… and next. And then the librarian put aside all the rest of the series for me… Later on I bought the whole series . Re-read it multiple times. My Mom was laughing that I was trying to learn the whole series by heart.

And I’ve always dreamt I’d be able to read it in original one day…

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA…Fast forward to year 2008 I believe… In one of the conversations with my Husband I mentioned my dream to be able to visit PEI one day… And to read the series in original… “One day? why not this summer?” He suggested… Wow…

Not only that, but I got the whole series for my birthday… and, yeah , we went to PEI in summer 2009…

… and I felt like a child again. Yup, we went with our two kiddos, just a few years old each, but honestly I was thankful for my Husband, he had the job of watching three kids that time. When I walked into Avonlea (yes, in Cavendish they made a tiny village, with original buildings from that time… school, church, stores…) I was re-living the books again. Everything came to life again…

OK so I could be writing and writing, but instead I’m just going to say – Dream away! They DO come true!!! 🙂

 


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“Come Before Winter” by Elizabeth Golibart Honaker~~ Virtual Book Tour

Write Now Literary is pleased to announce Come Before Winter, a Christian Historical Fiction with author Elizabeth G. Honaker, March 20-24, 2017.

ASIN: B00PPTR5C2
ISBN-10: 1502598353
ISBN-13: 978-1502598356
Book Release Date: November 2014

About The Author

Elizabeth Golibart Honaker hails from Sparta, Tennessee, where she teaches writing support and English at Motlow Community College. Her undergraduate degree is in Liberal Arts, and her first MA is in Theology. This has given her the breadth and scope to write over fifteen full-length passion plays in the last twenty years – seven of which are in print with others being prepared for publication – as well as dozens of shorter scripts, short stories, and poems on Christian topics. Her first historical fiction novel, Come Before Winter, was published in 2014. In that same year, she completed her second MA in English and Creative Writing (Fiction) at Southern New Hampshire University.
When she is not writing or tutoring, she spends her time devising new home projects for Allen, her husband of 45 years. She also enjoys communicating with her two wonderful grown children and buying (and making) trinkets for her four lively grandchildren. She is passionate about sharing Christ, missional activities, and her local church. She also loves gardening, sewing, piano playing, and Star Trek as time permits.



About The Book

This novel skillfully mixes historical people and events from the first century A.D. with fictional characters to create a riveting narrative. What was it like to be confronted by common people from the Roman Empire who believed in an uncommon Savior? Tribune Justinius Plaxus Glatonis, a powerful member of the Imperial Guard in Rome, finds out.




 


It was sundown when Justinius, Tribune of the Roman Imperial Guard, entered his cubicle and wearily removed his plumed helmet. After placing it in its proper place in the crudely-crafted cupboard near his cot, the warrior stretched and flexed his arms. In the name of Mithras, he thought, am I getting old? My muscles never ached as badly as they do today. He withdrew his broad sword from its scabbard and placed it next to his pilum – the expertly-crafted Roman spear. His shield had shifted slightly on its peg, and he adjusted it to its proper position. Septimus, his tesserarius,1 had already lit his oil lamps, and a welcome cup of wine was placed on the table. Justinius stood to drink it; he awaited Septimus’ help to remove his breastplate and underlying tunic and could not relax until that was accomplished. However, as a good soldier, he was patient – he knew that Septimus would not keep his commander waiting without cause. He drank the cup slowly, savoring the r ich fullness of the wine produced but a few stadia from the gates of Rome. Wine of such quality is not to be found anywhere else in the empire, he mused. I am fortunate to be stationed in Rome herself, the Queen of Cities.

Roman aide-de-camp

Septimus entered and saluted Justinius. His commander nodded, returned the empty cup to the table, and raised his arms so that his aide could more easily access the straps and belts that attached one piece of the breastplate to another. As his aide removed the back piece, Justinius momentarily held the front piece so it would not fall to the ground. It was a heavy, durable section of armor, but the tribune did not want it scratched up unduly. As a good warrior always did, he took care of his own kit himself, polishing it daily. Each piece stood proudly in its assigned place. As Justinius’ aide, Septimus’ job was to assist his commander only in necessary tasks. He was not a servant; he was subordinate only to Justinius. However, there was a certain affection reflected in Septimus’ actions. Indeed, he went beyond the normal scope of a soldier assigned to assist an officer. It was not so much in the big things that he sought to aid his superior; he tried to notice the little things that could smooth the way for such an admirable leader as the tribune he served. His eyes fell on the tattered brown cloak with the curious stripes that draped itself over a partially-concealed scroll. He reached for it to tidy its appearance, but Justinius spoke to him with uncharacteristic sharpness: “Don’t touch that!” “Sir, I only meant…” “I will handle it myself. Do not touch it.” “Yes, Tribune.” “That will be all.” Justinius stood still until Septimus had left the room. Why did I speak to him in that manner? He asked himself. Now I have raised suspicion…What a foolish thought! Who cares whether a moth-eaten cloak and an ill-penned scroll sit in my quarters? Still… Justinius glanced once more toward the door; it had been securely latched by his aide, so he felt more secure. He stood before the cupboard, struggling with himself whether to touch the cloak and the scroll once more or no. What have I to fear from such objects – the cloak of a fanatic and the scroll of a deluded fool? Justinius sank down onto his cot. The apparatus was wellworn and had seen over fifty campaigns – like its owner – but it was sturdy and serviceable, like everything else in Justinius’ cubicle. There were plenty of other things to claim the soldier’s attention; the weekly slabs with their figures and lines and reports had to be read and digested, and more reports had to be made to superiors up the line. There was his armor to polish once again. But Justinius could not concentrate on anything but the two maddeningly distractive articles. He stood and went to the cupboard. This fear is insane. He reached out to pull the cloak from its resting place, and as he drew it closer to his body, he smelled its lingering aroma of travel and sweat and contact with horses and camels and ships. It was somehow reassuring to smell that smell again.


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just reading…

They went to the library with the kids. This time – not their regular branch, but the one that was just by the little skating rink they just had some fun on. Or was that Pokemon hunting? One or the other. So it was some time in January. She goes wild seeing all the cozies* she’s never saw before, some authors ring the bell, some not. There is that one series in particular, that she was able to find Vol 2&3. No sign of Vol 1 of course. The bag couldn’t fit all the books and she maxed out the spots on her library card.

At home she went on the library catalog, hoping for Vol 1. No luck. Not the first time the library doesn’t care for series…

Fast-forward to Valentine’s Day. She gets a gift. You guessed it – Vol 1. He remembered. Searched in the bookstore. He cared. And.. There is even a little heart on the cover…

IMG_7675  .. So yeah. The “He” in the story was my Husband 🙂 And this is my current read 😀


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windchill, running and… (possibly) laryngitis ;)

medals

Yeah, tough combination I think. But we did it. We-as in, for the first time, my Husband and I running in one race. I’d say together, but it wouldn’t be true – although he offered 🙂 I wanted him to feel the adrenaline once again (he used to compete in all sorts of events some years ago). Well. I did this run last year, my Husband and my Son cheering me on 🙂 This year I signed us both. With a bowl of chili and glass of beer at the end – you can’t go wrong, can you? well… unless… There is the low of -12C with the windchill of -20C on the morning of your race… AND you just happened to lose your voice…

Hence the title of this post.

I was prepping myself for the possibility I’d have to walk that 5km. I know it is ok. The thought of not going at all kinda slipped through my head once or twice, but I got rid of it saying that unless I have a fever in the morning – I’m going and that’s that. Well. My body temperature in the morning was 36.8C, which is considered perfectly normal (ok I MIGHT have cheated a smidge, taking NeoCitran extra strenght night relief, at about 11pm last night. But it’d have been gone by 6 am wouldn’t it? 😀

Anyways. We got up (an hour early, yes, the wonderful daylight saving time), ate breakfast, I took another dose of NeoCitran and we were off.

Let me tell you one thing: it was COLD! I was trying to protect my poor throat by covering my mouth and breathing through a fleece neckwarmer, but had to take it down at times as it was making the breathing a bit harder.

IMG_20170312_144117AND – not only did I finish still running, the time wasn’t bad at all! My Garmin showed we did longer than 5km, and so my time was a bit more, but still pretty good 🙂

Bowl of chili and a glass of beer followed 🙂 And Live Irish Band.

As for my throat? A visit to the doctor is in plans for tomorrow.


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“Love’s Promise” by Melissa Storm —> excerpt & Book Info.

LovesPromiseTeaserKristina Rose Maher wants to know why fairytales never happen for fat girls. Certain that diner cook Jeff, handsome and fit, will never want her as more than a friend, she stuffs down her attraction to him. But when she finds herself facing a life-altering weight loss surgery, she discovers she’s willing to do whatever it takes to embrace life—and love—to the fullest.

Jeffrey Berkley can’t bear the thought of losing the friend he’s only just beginning to realize matters so much to him… no matter what size she is. But he is also terrified that helping her reach for her dreams will also mean finally reaching for his own—and letting down his family’s legacy in the process.

Both Kristina Rose and Jeffrey must learn to love themselves before they can find a way to make a promise to each other. Will they finally be able to lay their heavy burdens at the Lord’s feet, and trust him to bring the happily-ever-after they both crave?

 

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Love’s Promise:  Excerpt from Chapter 13

Kristina clapped as her friend took the pulpit. She had never seen Elise in front of her youth group. Even though they were best friends, Kristina hadn’t been back to youth group since she’d graduated to the big church. A few times per year, Pastor Bernie would take a Sunday off and ask Elise or one of the elders to deliver the week’s sermon, but the teen members of the congregation understandably required a different message and a different style when it came to their own church services and events.

All around her, the kids settled onto their blankets with plates of fried chicken, potato salad, and other fatty picnic fare. Peggy, a girl who worked at the diner sometimes on nights and weekends, joined Kristina on her blanket. “Hi,” she whispered with a grin as Elise flipped on the microphone and shouted, “Boo!”

Kristina jumped back, unprepared for the loud noise that shot through the auditorium. Nervous laughter erupted around them, but Elise stood stock still with a serious expression on her face.

“Halloween was last month!” Peggy called to Elise.

More laughter.

Still Elise didn’t speak, didn’t wear her signature smile, didn’t do anything.

The laughter quieted, and everyone sat waiting to see what their youth pastor would say or do next.

“Fear,” Elise said, enunciating the word slowly, taking time with each sound. “What is it?”

Answers rose up from all around the room.

“Not feeling safe.”

“Being worried.”

“Spiders!” Peggy added.

“Not knowing how things will work out,” Kristina said through the laughter.

“And were you afraid just now when I shouted boo right here out of the blue?”

A chorus of Nos rippled through the room.

Elise pouted and stalked forward on the stage. “But it was unexpected. You didn’t know what would happen next. A lot of people find shocks like that scary. Why didn’t you?”

“Because you’re not scary.”

“We know you.”

“You’d never hurt us.”

“You’d never hurt anyone,” Kristina added.

Elise perked up, her eyes wide and voice booming. “Ahh, so I failed in my attempt to scare you because you know me, because you trust me to take care of you?”

Everyone nodded and murmured their agreement.

“You know who else is there to take care of you? God.” Elise bobbed her head and traced her way back to the pulpit. “God’s gotcha. 100% of the time, He is there and He’s got your back. So then why do we continue to live in fear? If I couldn’t scare you, then why does life scare you when you know God is just around the corner rooting for you, ready to catch you if you fall?”

Nobody said anything. They all waited to see what their youth pastor would say next, Kristina Rose most of all.

“Easy in theory, right? But hard in practice,” Elise continued. “They say practice makes perfect, but no one is perfect outside of Jesus. Practice can make better. Practice can make easier, but none of us are perfect. It’s kind of why we need God in the first place. It’s why we need to trust Him with our fears rather than trying to figure everything out for ourselves.”

Oh, now she understood why Elise had dragged her here. She saw Kristina’s fear loud and clear. It was in everything she did, no matter how hard she tried to act otherwise. Elise did love to showboat, but she may have also chose this method of delivering her message so that the kids would be there to back her up, so it would feel less like a personal lecture and more like something Elise was sharing with all of them.

“It’s a lesson we’ve all learned since Sunday School. God’s got you. So then why do so many of us forget as we grow up? As we face new challenges? Why do we think we can do it all ourselves? Why don’t we depend on God for help?”

Some of the teens ventured answers, but Kristina honestly didn’t know what to say. Elise was right, of course. Kristina had been trying to do it all on her own rather than trusting in God—and in her friends—to take care of her. She’d been trying to do it all on her own and still didn’t even fully trust herself. No wonder she was failing so miserably.

Elise reached under the pulpit and pulled out a small black gun. She closed one eye, and stuck her arm straight out toward Kristina Rose.

Nervous laughter broke through the sanctuary once again.

“You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? I have a gun. A gun! Shouldn’t you be afraid?”

“We know that’s not a real gun, Elise,” Peggy said, making a pistol gesture with her thumb and index finger and pointing it back at Elise.

“Are you sure about that? What makes you think it’s not real? It’s the right color, right size, right shape.” She widened her stance and turned the gun to its side, setting up for a kill shot. “Are you scared now?” she asked, her voice flat, menacing.

“No, I’m not,” Kristina answered. “I know you’d never actually shoot me with a real gun.”

“How sure are you? Would you bet your life?” She took two steps forward, unwavering in her aim.

Kristina nodded. “I trust you not to hurt me.”

Elise pulled the trigger and a stream of water hit Kristina on the leg.

The audience laughed some more. It seemed they did a lot of that whenever Elise took the stage. “Told ya! We knew it wasn’t real,” they shouted.

Elise returned the gun to the pulpit and banged on her chest with the mic. “Did you see that? Did you see that? Kristina Rose trusted me to shoot her—to shoot her!—because I’m her best friend and she knows I won’t hurt her. But that’s all I am, a best friend. God is our father. Of course He wants what’s best for us. Of course He would never hurt us without a reason.”

She gave that a minute to set in before jumping off the stage and pumping her arms as she walked animatedly between the blankets. “Here we are, going about our business, and—whoa—a new danger appears.” Elise jerked forward and threw a banana peel she’d been hiding onto the ground in front of her.

This time Kristina found herself laughing along, too.

“Don’t laugh!” Elise warned, spinning around to look at everyone in turn. “This is dangerous. I could slip and fall! How can I keep walking forward when there’s this huge dangerous thing just waiting to knock me off my feet?”

“Step around it!”

“Walk over it!”

“Just avoid it.”

Elise did as instructed with a skip. “Pfffhew, I’m safe!” she cried.

Kristina Rose loved watching her friend in action. She had no idea her sermons involved so much physical comedy, but it all made perfect sense. This is just who Elise was—passionate, energetic, the star of the show. They made a great pair, Elise and Kristina, because while one craved attention, the other was all too happy to let somebody else take center stage. Had they been enabling each other all this time?

Elise winked at Kristina Rose, then rolled her eyes and jogged back up to the stage. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I know this is all fairly ridiculous. Who slips on a banana peel other than maybe a cartoon character? But here’s the thing: in hindsight, many of our problems seem equally absurd. Why didn’t I just tell her how I feel, or why didn’t I just take the plunge? Well, I’m here to tell you today, God doesn’t give us problems we can’t handle. You know what Kelly Clarkson says: ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ Well, I want to be strong. Don’t you?”

Peggy started humming the pop song quietly beside Kristina.

“I want to be strong,” Kristina said.

Others murmured in agreement.

“Well, guess what. So do I, but you know what else? I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Say it with me this time…”

Everyone shouted in unison, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!”

“Yes, you can.” Elise stooped down to pick up the banana peel, curled it into a ball, and then made a free shot at the trash basket.

Some muted applause followed the swish straight into the bin.

Elise tapped her heart and pointed toward Heaven. “Now when we break into group, I want us to share our fears, share our problems, and then place them at the Lord’s feet. Trusting in God doesn’t mean that you give up trying. It just means that you know you’re going to win in the end. It brushes aside the worry, makes the task of living a much more enjoyable—much easier—thing to do. How would your life change if you stopped being afraid and started trusting in God to lead you to the place you need to be?” Elise locked eyes with Kristina Rose as she asked this.

Kristina had no idea whether she was meant to answer, but luckily she didn’t have to. A series of beeps and whirls sounded from beside her, and all eyes zoomed toward the blanket where she sat with Peggy.

“Oops! Sorry!” Peggy leaped up and waved her phone by way of explanation. “I forgot to silence it, but it’s my boss. I have to take this.” She rushed out in the hall, leaving Kristina to wonder why Mabel would be calling on a day she knew Peggy would be taking off to attend the retreat.

“Let’s all clean up our plates and move our blankets into a circle,” Elise said, striding over to help Kristina Rose adjust hers.

“Was that for me?” Kristina asked quietly while the kids laughed and joked with one another.

“It was for everyone, but, yes, inspired by you. I love you, you know, and I want you to know that you’ve got this, that God’s—”

“God’s got me?” Kristina finished for her friend. “I know. Thank you so much for the reminder.”

She’s waiting for her prince to come but was he right beside her all the time?

 

Don’t miss this sweet tale of faith, love, and gastric bypass–get your copy of Love’s Promise today!

About the Author

melissa-s-photo

Melissa Storm is a mother first, and everything else second. Her fiction is highly personal and often based on true stories. Writing is Melissa’s way of showing her daughter just how beautiful life can be, when you pay attention to the everyday wonders that surround us.

Melissa loves books so much, she married fellow author Falcon Storm. Between the two of them, there are always plenty of imaginative, awe-inspiring stories to share. When she’s not reading, writing, or child-rearing, Melissa spends time relaxing at home in the company of her four dogs, four parrots, and rescue cat. She never misses an episode of The Bachelor or her nightly lavender-infused soak in the tub. Because priorities.


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Bumped into Past…

A while ago, while talking to family friend, she told me a story about the Polish volunteer soldiers that came from USA and Canada to Niagara on the Lake’s training camp (or whatever that prep place was called) to go and fight “For our freedom and yours” – in the WWI. Polish soldiers were very specific. If you looked into the history – before WWI, for over 100 years there was no Poland. No country for Poles, as their beloved homeland was taken away from them by 3 powers – Russia, Prussia(nowadays Germany) and Austria. So they saw WWI as a big chance to regain their land…

And so these soldiers, some who left their country forced by political powers, some kicked out of it for their beliefs – came there ready to be sent to war. Unfortunately – there was and outburst of influenza at that time, which robbed 41 soldiers of their chance to fight for that freedom they missed so much. So that friend told me – “and you know, there is a little cemetery in Niagara on the Lake, commemorating those soldiers. That time, few years ago I only took the story in, not registering much, thinking – I won’t go there, I won’t look for it, who knows where it really is…

Years passed, and as I wrote a few days ago – we took a trip to Niagara Falls. Then my husband suggested, as it is far from summer 😉 (though last Sunday was exceptionally beautiful) – that we’d see The Falls and then took a scenic route along Niagara River to Niagara on the Lake. And so we did. The above mentioned story hidden, deeply sleeping in my brain, not even a tiny lightbulb, not a ring anywhere 😉

As we went to Niagara on the Lake, we discovered that lots of people thought the weather was exceptionally beautiful. I had a map of all the free parking and piloted my husband around the streets. “There is supposed to be free parking along this road, till the next intersection” I said. Yup, free usually means taken 😉 But as we drove slowly, we noticed one spot! With no hesitation we took that spot, and not a minute later my daughter noticed: “Mama look, there is Polish Eagle on this gate!” I looked in the direction she was pointing – and sure enough. This was the tiny cemetery, with graves of 25 of the 41 soldiers taken by influenza in 1917…img_7591img_7588img_7589img_7593