Misfortune Annie and the Voodoo Curse

Book 2 in the Misfortune Annie series is now available in paperback and ebook.  Yeehaw!

Misfortune Annie and the Voodoo CurseA supernatural curse.

A vicious voodoo mage.

The Idol of the Necropolis.

When Misfortune Annie’s fellow Secret Service agent is seen torching his family’s plantation, Annie knows black magic is afoot. Rumor has it a cruel voodoo sorcerer has returned to New Orleans to locate the ill-famed Idol of the Necropolis—an artifact that can raise the dead.

Annie and her Cheyenne friend Wontoa are sent to track down their partner and break the voodoo curse. It won’t be easy. The swamps surrounding the mage’s temple crawl with man-eaters and the supernatural, and if the fiend gets his clutches on the Idol of the Necropolis, Annie will need more than her quick draw to make it out alive!

 

At Dawn

 

Dawn lake (1)

Photo by Richard Fogg

Are not the forest fringes wet
With tears? Is not the voice of all regret
Breaking out of the dark earth’s heart?
She too, she too, has loved and lost; and though
She turned last night in disdain
Away from the sunset-embers,
From her soul she can never depart;
She can never depart from her pain.
Vainly she strives to forget;
Beautiful in her woe,
She awakes in the dawn and remembers.

~ Alfred Noyes

 

Stop and smell the roses

sml flwr

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

You got to stop and smell the roses
You’ve got to count your many blessings everyday
You’re gonna find your way to heaven is a rough and rocky road
If you don’t stop and smell the roses along the way

~ Carl Severinsen and Mac Davis, songwriters.

 

Press’d by the Moon

grt bst moon (1)

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

Press’d by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides,
While the loud equinox its power combines,
The sea no more its swelling surge confines,
But o’er the shrinking land sublimely rides.
The wild blast, rising from the Western cave…
~ Charlotte Smith

It Takes Courage to be a Writer

I glory in tales of heroes and heroines, those who risk everything to gain or protect their passion, whether it’s love, conquering new planets, or righting a wrong. These stories resonate in my heart–I pray they always will.

In The Green Hills of Earth, a short story by Robert A. Heinlein, “Noisy” Rhysling, a blind and dying balladeer is catching rides back to Earth where he wants to be laid to rest. Yet he sacrifices himself to repair a malfunctioning space ship. His final song, before he dies…

…harsh bright soil of Luna –
Out ride the sons of Terra,
Far drives the thundering jet –
Saturn’s rainbow rings –
the frozen night of Titan –
We pray for one last landing
On the globe that gave us birth
Let us rest our eyes on the fleecy skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth.

Then there are Batty’s final words in Blade Runner:

“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I’ve watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.”

Yes, Batty is the “bad guy,” but at that moment he’s captured his life as neatly as the pair of doves he holds in his hands. And he is transformed, as is Dekker, the “good guy.” Both want to experience “things you people wouldn’t believe.”

It takes courage to set emotions to paper and perseverance to claim the tale. It takes courage to be a writer. We might not wear armor and carry swords, but then again, I have traveled through space, danced on moons, and won the battle of battles. I’ve traveled back in time and flown P-51s. I’ve risked my life to save others, and I’ll do it all again tomorrow. I hope you will, too.

She Walks Alone

yellowstone 223 M (1)

Photo by Richard Fogg


She walks alone against the dusky sky,
With something of the manner of a queen-
Her gesturing peaks, imperious and high;
Her snowy brow, serene.
 
Under her feet, a tapestry of pine;
Veiling her marble figure, purple haze,
Draped with a scarf of clouds at timber-line,
In a billowy silken maze.
~ Lew Sarett
 

Fly Me To The Moon

jet moon

Photo by Richard Fogg

Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
~ Bart Howard.

The Starlings

brds s riz tre 3

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

…the starlings are chattering, quarreling and laughing,
whispering and quietly enjoying themselves,
when suddenly a blustering as of ten thousand pairs
of sharp-edged scissors
passes through the republic of the plains–
it is as though an alarm had sounded,
heard as an echo over the muffled traffic.
Soon the darkness of night will fall.
But the starlings up there won’t stop talking,
they move together, push one another, chatter and flit.
~ Jesper Svenbro

Always Somewhere

Toll 8

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

Somewhere always is an everywhere
Where the mountains and the snow grow down
In time, until, in winter’s deep sleep, time
Grows balanced, and in quiet you can climb
A mountain and the snow no one can own
Because in afternoon sunshine, time’s there.
~ David Rothman

Before the gods that made the gods…

horsies 007 M

Photo by Richard Fogg

 

Before the gods that made the gods
Had seen their sunrise pass,
The White Horse of the White Horse Vale
Was cut out of the grass…
~ G. K. Chesterton