The Story Behind the Story with Author Becca Blue of Lincoln, New Brunswick, Canada.

 

We have another new author for you to meet.

 

I had the good fortune to meet Becca at the GMRD Book Fair in April. We met lots of readers and had a fun day.

She has kindly accepted our invitation to be our guest this week.

Read on, my friends.

 

Becca Blue is a writer, director, photographer and graphic designer whose work blends emotional depth with a touch of the supernatural. She is the author of The Guardians of Your Heart series and the children’s series My Dog Bruce. Becca has spent 25 years working in the entertainment world on many popular film and television series. Her first award-winning indie film, All I Need, became the prelude to The Guardians of Your Heart series, establishing her signature style of love, loss, and redemption. When she isn’t writing or making her next film, she’s crafting book trailers and helping other authors publish their own stories with her small business Sakura Blue Studios based in Lincoln, New Brunswick.

Upcoming Book Title:

My newest books I’m about to release this year are The Guardians of Your Heart Series, which includes Stay With Me | Don’t Tell Me Goodbye | You’re Not Alone. The first one will release in September 2025, the second one before Christmas this year, and the last one in February 2026!

 

Synopsis:
Sophie Reid’s life changes forever when Nathan Hayes, her guardian angel, defies heavenly rules to save her from the darkness threatening to consume her. Their forbidden love grants Nathan a second chance at life, and together they begin to build a future filled with hope and passion. But their happiness is shattered when a vengeful spirit from Nathan’s past emerges from purgatory, determined to destroy Sophie and reclaim Nathan. Thrust into a supernatural battle where secrets unravel and danger lurks in every shadow, Sophie must confront her deepest fears and make impossible choices as their love is tested in ways she never imagined. Stay With Me, the first installment in The Guardians Of Your Heart series is a gripping tale of love, sacrifice, and redemption that will leave readers breathless and yearning for more.

 

 The Story Behind the Story – why you wrote it, what inspired it…

This story has been in my head since I was sixteen years old. Throughout high school, I wrote many stories with different variations of the same character, Nathan. I even had dreams of scenes and conversations, and lucky enough, I wrote them all down over the years. These little segments eventually came together while I was in college and became the prelude to my massive trilogy, The Guardians Of Your Heart. I published the first story, "All I Need," in 2009 and soon after adapted it into a full-length feature film that I directed and produced independently. That film went on to win at the Canadian International Film Festival. Since then, I knew this story was bigger than anything else I was doing in life. So, I dedicated my work to this series over the next few years, and I’m so excited to be finally releasing it all, starting in September 2025 with part one, “Stay With Me.” The second installment will be released by Christmas, and the last part in February 2026! This story is so important to me because I put a lot of myself into this book, my growth, my pain, my beliefs and more. I’ve always found writing and making movies to be an exciting way to share stories and uniquely reach others. You can be as creative as you want, and with self-publishing, your possibilities are endless. I’ve always been a super expressive person with my artwork, and the best part about the work I do now is meeting people who share some of the same experiences at book events, some have the same interests and more. It’s nice to connect with people who love the things you do! I’ve met some amazing people throughout this journey, and I can’t wait to hear what people think after reading this series! I am a strong believer that sometimes things in life stick with you because secretly…. there’s something else you should be doing. That they are trying to tell you something… so that’s what I think Nathan was doing for me. I’m happy I decided to listen.

Becca's Facebook page: Please go HERE.

Buy the book at Barnes & Noble.

or at 

Dog Eared Books.

or at

The Write Cup - Saint John. NB.

 

A question before you go, Becca:

Where does your creative energy come from?

Becca: My creative energy comes from various places. Music is a big one and of course movies. I also get inspired by others who are trying new things. When I find people who have the same creative energy as myself, we tend to fire each other up when hanging out and it’s so amazing! I like to travel, see new things, learn new skills and meet new people. All of this inspires me daily. I think the more you get out there in the world, the more you can continue to grow. I’m also a person who likes to try for the impossible. I don’t like to be told no, or that I can’t do something. I think if you want something bad enough, it all comes down to your drive and work ethic. I’m always up for a challenge, even if it’s not the normal or “right” way of doing something.

 

 

An Excerpt from The Guardians Of Your Heart 

“Be careful how you think, your thoughts could shape your reality.” It was true. My life was a lot different now, better now that he was gone. I had managed to move on in the short time since he left, or at least trick my mind into believing I had. Successfully cutting everyone and everything out of my life that had caused me any emotional or physical distress, past or present. Hiding away and burying myself in my acting career, I had no time for anyone or anything—not even to think. If I did start to think about my old life or him, I immediately snapped myself out of it and began a new task or hobby to keep busy.

I had even moved out of our—well, my old place and into a small run-down apartment just big enough for me. The idea was to erase everything from my old life, including him. I wanted everything new and fresh. Different. Because I knew if I thought for just one split second about him, it would destroy me. So this was all I could do to try and live a normal life. This was me controlling my thoughts, holding tight to the life I had left, the life that hadn’t been what I planned. I had seen, experienced, and lived through more than the average person, and I didn’t care to relive any of it. I was a whole new girl now. I was... one piece of a life.

 

 

Thanks for sharing the good news, Becca. And for being our guest this week. WE wish you continued success with your writing.

 

And another HUGE thank you to all our visitors and readers.

An interview and short story with Author Doug Dolan of New Brunswick, Canada.

 Welcome back!

Welcome to all visitors and to our guest this week, Doug Dolan. 

He has  previously been on the Scribbler and we are most pleased to have him back. If you missed the first visit, please go HERE.

Read on, my friends.

 Doug Dolan was born and raised in the small village of Nelson, beside the magnificent Miramichi River in North-East New Brunswick. Doug is a seventy-year-old novice writer. He has self-published “Stories From the River” a memoir profiling his struggle to find his way through a painful gay labyrinth at a time when it was best to keep such a sexual orientation to oneself. A wide variety of readers has positively reviewed it. He recently completed the historical fiction. “The Mill” It follows the Burchill family of Miramichi over their 140-year dynasty in the lumber industry. He is working on an anthology of Christmas-themed stories to be released in 2025. He has recently completed a novella looking at the murders of two Moncton police officers in 1974. It offers a unique look at the effects their deaths had on one of their own. Doug lives with his husband in Moncton, N.B. 

       There have been several large wildfires in NB this summer including on the Miramichi. Your story is timely. Where did you get the idea for it?

           I was born and spent most of adult life in Miramichi. I have experienced the fear and anxiety of a nearby forest fire. Allan MacEachern’s book, “The Miramichi Fire”, is an excellent factual account of the 1825 events. Valerie Sherrard (a Miramichi author) wrote, “Three Million Acres of Flame “It speaks to the effects that fire had on the people of the region.

   

Tell us about your story.

             “A Question of Faith” is based on the actual experience of John Jackson, the sexton of St. Paul’s Anglican Church and his effort to save the church from destruction. As the flames advance, John struggles to balance his dedication to his faith and his role as a father.

     

What drew you to write the story?

 

The power of religion in the lives of some people interest me. And the lengths some folks will go to give testimony to their faith. The evidence in this case is found in the graveyard of St. Paul’s Cemetery.

 

 

You are a novice writer in your seventies and have written two books. Will you continue to write?

“Stories From The River” chronicles my young life growing up in Miramichi, coming to accept and celebrate being gay. “The Mill” describes the creation of the lumber empire of the Burchill family; a story of resilience and innovativeness covering 140 years. My third book, “Christmas On The River” will be published in November. It includes some of my stories and real experiences of a few, relatives and neighbours including my ninety – eight-year-old aunt. 

A Question of Faith

The Miramichi Fire 

                                                                          

October 07, 1825 7:30am

The dawn cracked like a scar on the cloudless sky. Dew lay miserly on the few remaining plants. It had been four months since rain had fallen. John Jackson tended to his duties as Sexton of St. Paul's Anglican Church in Bushville. The small but dedicated congregation had erected the building in the Spring and Summer of 1825. It sat prominently on a knoll close to the river. John was honoured when he was asked to oversee its maintenance and operation. He and his wife Ann had lived in the Miramichi Valley for a decade. They had made the dangerous journey from their native Scotland with two sons, William and Charles. The boys now fifteen and thirteen were joined by three brothers and a sister (Margaret). The period leading to and a year after the voyage from Edenborough had been unseasonably cold with constant rain. The crops failed forcing the Jacksons and thousands of other Europeans to escape famine. A volcanic eruption on Mount Tambora, Indonesia the previous year had spread a layer of ash across the globe, blocking out the sun for months. The memory of that uncertain period had dissolved with the promise of a brighter future for the young couple and their children.

11:00am

John answered a loud rapping on the vestry door. A terror-stricken resident grabbed John’s coat and pulled him outside pointing wordlessly to the western horizon. The azure blue sky was erased by a coal black cloud thirty kilometers wide and towering kilometers high. His first thoughts were the safety of Ann and the children. He raced to their home and directed William and Charles to gather the bedding and soak it in the river. He and the boys worked to place the wet materials on the wooden roof. Ann was busy distracting the younger children, while leading them to the cellar. He reasoned their stone house would not be a source of ignition. If the fire jumped across the one quarter mile river, they would be secure in the earthen crawlway.

2:00 p.m.

Word had come from Nelson that Malcom's Chapel; the Catholic Church had been destroyed. In a miraculous turn of events, the rest of the community was spared. Several ships loaded with masts bound for England had been caught in a rain of flame and were charred to their water lines. Like most Miramichi residents, John Jackson had no experience with forest infernos. But he had studied the historical documents brought from congregants' homes to make a church library.

One of the papers described previous incidents which occurred in the region. He recalled with fear and some hope one of the characteristics of a big blaze. Crowning is a product of the firestorm. The superheated embers are carried at extended intervals often giving the perception that a structure has combusted spontaneously. Jackson prayed fervently that this phenomenon would spare him and his family. John looked across to Rosebank and Douglastown. He wept as he witnessed a single sheet of flame nearing forty metres in height and kilometres in length bore down on the area. Across the half-kilometre distance, he heard the shrieks of terror from man and beast as they sought a common refuge in the water.

John began to realize that the Bushville side was not experiencing the worst effects.

His thoughts turned to how he might save his church. He ran the short distance to the church where earlier he had placed buckets of water around and sheets provided by neighbours. He had placed a ladder high enough to gain access to the peak. Jackson spent the remainder of the night laying the wet materials across the roof. The valiant effort worked and as the grey smoked filled dawn broke, he felt a moment of joy and triumph. As the black curtain diminished, John recognized a fellow parishioner half stumbling up the wagon path from the direction of John's home. His clothing was burnt and face blackened. His voice was strangled from acrid smoke as he told Jackson the unimaginable news that Ann and three of their beautiful children were dead.

 

October 08, 1825, 8:00am

John Jackson looked over the site of his massive defeat. His lovely Ann and three of their children were gone forever. Trapped in their stone house, they suffocated as the waves of flame stole any oxygen in the area. The remaining children had been taken to a temporary hospital. The sound of the painful screams calling for their mother reverberated in his head. Mercifully they later died from their injuries.

Conversations with his God, when he pondered risking the safety of family to save his Church left him wanting. Jackson died alone six months later in February 1826. Ann and her children are buried in the cemetery of St. Paul's Anglican Church, which stands intact today, a conflicted symbol of religious devotion and the recognition of the price one person had paid for it. 

Conclusion

Statistics help explain the scope of the 1825 Miramichi fire. Sixteen thousand square km (6,000 sq. miles) of forest land was burned in an area extending approximately 150 km (90 miles) northeast of Fredericton. The track of the fire moved to Newcastle, Douglastown Bartibogue on the west and Nelson, Bushville, Chatham and Napan to the east. One hundred and sixty people died. Nine hundred homes and structures were destroyed.

Over the years, an idealized version of the recovery has become a legend. The Miramichi is portrayed as a Phoenix, rising from the ashes, leading to the re-emergence of a prosperous region. The truth is somewhere in the middle. The town of Newcastle suffered the most deaths and property loss followed closely by the hamlet of Douglastown. The initial fear that 3,000 woodsmen spread throughout the Miramichi Valley had perished was proven unfounded.

 In addition, there was a common belief that the maelstrom had consumed all the lands. That also was overstated. Crowning and spot fires leave sections of the forest untouched. A survey five years after the fire concluded that a large portion of marketable timber remained intact.

These notations do not diminish the courage and determination of the Miramichi people. Many immigrants decided to remain and rebuild their independent communities and eventually their commitment to a united city over a century later. As time went on, the population of the Miramichi Valley did not match the growth of neighbouring counties but it gradually recovered. The export of solid white pine masts to the British Navy dropped. That was a result of negative press more than a reduction in fibre availability. The vacuum was taken up as Britain expanded its colonial possessions, needing more ships and supplies. And so, the lapse in exports was short term.

The Miramichi region eventually assumed its place in the province of New Brunswick and the Confederation of Canada. The fire of October 7, 1825, has become a footnote of our history. The strength and determination of the people continue to grow.

 

NOTE: The author gratefully acknowledges Alan MacEachern's "The Miramichi Fire: A History" as a source document.

Visit Doug's blog by going HERE.

Thank you, Doug, for sharing the story and for being our guest.

A BIG thank you to all our visitors and readers.

Feel free to tell us what's on your mind.

Comment box below.

 

 

The Story Behind the Story with Author Alex Daggett of Quispamsis, New Brunswick, Canada.

 Let’s welcome Alex to the Scribbler.

 

I had the pleasure of meeting Alex at the GMRD Book Fair last April when he shared a table with his author wife, Joanne.

He has kindly accepted our invitation to share the SBTS of his memoir.

Joanne has been a guest on the Scribbler recently and if you missed her post, please go HERE.

Read on, my friends.

 

 

Alex: I live in Quispamsis N.B. with my wife of thirty-eight years, Joanne. I have been involved with carpentry for close to forty years, and enjoy being creative with what I build. I have three children and seven grandchildren and I cherish each and every moment with them.

 

Title: Where Did My Son Go? 

Synopsis:

Drugs, addiction, homelessness, mental illness and incarceration. These are not the words or wishes for any parent for their children. My book comes from a father’s heart for my son and reflects on the past twenty year journey.

  It covers many difficult topics in dealing with my son, his addiction and his out of control behaviour. I discuss many topics such as anger, grief, doubt, faith, boundaries, enabling, and depression.

   It is a raw and vulnerable true story, told from a dad who, at times, doesn’t know what to do, where to turn for help, and even questions God and his faith.

 

Story Behind the Story:

My dad passed away on Good Friday in 2023. He was a man I looked up to, took advice and wisdom from, who was all about family. I loved him very much. This started a process of reflection of my dad, myself, and my son and his family.

    I never planned on writing our story, which is mainly due to our son’s story and journey, but in the early spring of 2024 I felt the call to write. My heart was nudged to put pen to paper and share the details of what had become a twenty year battle. I have witnessed so many people, parents, siblings, and loved ones deal with drugs and addiction. I have seen firsthand what it does to families.

    I decided to start journaling, pondering the events and emotions of the past twenty years. Soon a book began to take form. Opening up and sharing about my family in an intimate way was a difficult and gut-wrenching experience. However, I knew I was committed to pouring it all out.

    In writing this book Where Did My Son Go? my hope and prayer is that it will help those who need to read the message. I pray it gives clarity to many family members who face traumatic and confusing events when dealing with a lost, struggling loved one.

 

 

Visit Alex’s Facebook page by going HERE.

 

Buy the book HERE.

 

 

Tell us about your writing habits, Alex.

 

Alex: My favorite spot to write is on our deck or at the kitchen table, both of which face the beautiful Kennebecasis River.

 

I am definitely a messy writer. My wife has the long task of editing and typing out my messy scribbles on paper.

 

My beverage of choice while writing on the deck on a hot day would be a Diet Pepsi or a can of carbonated flavoured water.

 

 Thanks for sharing your story with us, Alex.

And for being our guest this week.

Thanks to all our visitors and readers.

Please feel free to leave us a comment.

The Story Behind the Story with Mila Maxwell of New Brunswick, Canada.

 

It’s our pleasure to welcome Mila to the Scribbler.

We discovered her book online and she has kindly accepted our invitation to be our guest.

She will tell you what it’s all about.

Read on, my friends.

  

Mila Maxwell is an author from Clare, Nova Scotia, with a deep-rooted passion for storytelling and a love of the outdoors. A proud French Acadian, Mila draws inspiration from both her cultural heritage and her adventurous lifestyle, which includes being a volunteer firefighter. She lives in Sussex, New Brunswick with her husband Jeremy, son Bennett, and French Bulldogs Royce and Marlo. When not writing, you can find Mila out in nature, at the gym, or helping others through her work in the community.

 

Title: Finding Lady Baltimore

 

Synopsis:
Nestled in a quiet seaside village in Nova Scotia, Morgan has always felt overshadowed by her sister’s differences. She longs for a life unburdened by the weight of expectations, sometimes wondering what it would be like to let the powerful tides of the Bay of Fundy sweep her away. But when she stumbles upon a peculiar old suitcase, its unexpected contents shatter everything she thought she knew—about herself, her family, and the truths she’s been too afraid to face.

As Morgan unravels the mystery hidden within the suitcase, she is forced to confront her deepest fears and regrets. Along the way, she discovers that the things she once resented might hold the key to a deeper understanding—not just of her sister, but of herself.

Set against the backdrop of an untamed coastline, this poignant and suspenseful novel explores the complexities of growing up alongside a sibling with disabilities. A story of love, guilt, and self-discovery, it will resonate with anyone who has ever struggled to find their place in a family shaped by differences. Whether you are a sibling, a parent, or simply someone who understands the delicate balance of love and longing, Morgan’s journey is sure to stay with you long after the final page.

The Story Behind the Story:

My younger sister Sara has cerebral palsy and I always wondered what being her was like. One night, as I was falling asleep, I got this sentence in myself that made me sit up and go “holy sh*t that’s a book!” I wanted to tell my story of growing up alongside her and some of the struggles I’ve faced, but I also wanted to share her perspective, as well as those of my parents. Not only the challenges we faced, both individually and as a family, but the gifts that also come with growing up alongside a sibling with disabilities.

 

Website. Please go HERE.

 

Buy the book HERE.

 

A question before you go, Mila:

Scribbler: Tell us about your writing habits. Morning, late night, anytime? Music or solitude? What is your beverage of choice while writing?

Mila: I tried to be as consistent as possible with my writing. I found it easier to write earlier in the day, so as soon as my son would leave for school I would make a tea or coffee and sit down at my desk. Some days I was able to write for hours, missing lunch, and other days I would stare at the curser, barely writing a word. But I found consistency in those efforts, and small steps forward, well, really helped because I got a book out of it!

Thank you, Mila for being our featured guest this week. We wish you continued success with your writing.

 

And another BIG thank you to all our visitors and readers. Please leave a comment below.

 

The Story Behind the Story with Author Joe Powers of New Brunswick, Canada.

 

Let’s welcome Joe back to the Scribbler.

 

Always a popular guest, we are happy he accepted our invitation to tell you about his new book. As a bonus, he’s sharing an excerpt.

If you missed his previous post, please go HERE.

Read on my friends. 

Joe Powers is a Canadian horror writer, New Brunswick native, and long-time fan of all things scary. He's the author of Terror in High Water, Seventeen Skulls, Old Bones, and Putting Down Roots. His short stories have appeared in various anthologies and collections.

Among his many inspirations he lists Stephen King, Jack Ketchum, Michael Crichton, Vincent Price, Peter Benchley and Richard Matheson. He enjoys introducing the reader to flawed, believable characters and leading them on dark journeys with an unexpected twist. He isn’t afraid to mix and match genres, fearlessly weaving horror into noir, western, or sci fi.

Joe enjoys poking around in the dark recesses of nature, off the beaten path, chasing down old legends and new stories. In his spare time, he's an avid hockey fan and dog lover, and still finds time to teach several classes at UNB's College of Extended Learning.

Joe currently lives in Maugerville with his wife and fellow author, Sheryl, and a wide array of creatures. Follow Joe at www.joepowersauthor.com.

  

Title: Putting Down Roots

 

Synopsis: Matt and Rachel Bailey have uprooted their family and moved across the country to a quiet college town in New Brunswick. Their new house is a beautiful old Victorian with a sprawling yard on a corner lot in a nice suburban neighbourhood. Rachel’s got a great job at the university, the kids are making new friends, and everything’s coming together.

There’s just one problem.

Huddled in the far corner of the lot, just inside the high board fence that surrounds the yard, stands an old, massive tree. The moss-covered branches hang low to the ground, like skeletal hands reaching for those who wander too close. The thick, gnarled roots ripple just below the surface of the ground like probing tentacles. Matt finds it creepy and unsettling and plans to remove it as soon as possible. But it won’t be that easy.

Before long, unease turns to terror as the true nature of the tree slowly begins to unravel. This is no mere tree, but an ancient evil presence that has preyed on unsuspecting animals and people for centuries.

And getting rid of it won’t be as easy as he thinks.

With the safety of his wife, two curious children, and the family dog at risk, Matt does everything he can to protect his family from the rooted predator that lurks mere feet away from their back door. One false move, a step too close, is all it takes for tragedy to strike. And just how close to the house do the roots reach? Is anywhere safe?

After a close call that he narrowly escapes, and with the number of victims on the rise, Matt must devise a plan to destroy the menacing evil before it destroys everything he loves.

 

 

The Story Behind the Story: 

One day about ten years ago I sat down and wrote a short story that I called Putting Down Roots. It was a quick little thing, born from a “what if?” idea I had about a tree that attacks and eats people. For the older crowd who may remember the Peanuts comic strips, the idea was a kind of spin on the kite-eating tree that used to torment Charlie Brown, only this one eats people instead of kites. It was a fun little thing, but I was never quite happy with it. As time went by, I realized that was because it simply wasn’t finished – there was a lot more story to tell. So I dusted it off and went to work. Gradually, characters came to life, the tension and suspense crept higher as the story took shape. It was closer to what it was supposed to be, but still, I wasn’t satisfied. Stumped and discouraged, I put it aside once more.

More time went by, other projects came and went, and all the while that insidious tree haunted me, demanding I tell its story properly. So last fall, all these years later, I was ready to finish what I started. I relocated the story to the fictional town of Beaverbrook, which might sound familiar to those who have read my second novel, Seventeen Skulls. Unfortunately, my writing style and skill had changed a great deal in the time since the first draft’s inception, so I had to effectively rewrite the entire thing from scratch. It was a long process, but it allowed me to get reacquainted with the story all over again and reminded me of what made me want to tell it in the first place. I have never in my life taken so long to finish writing something, but I’m pleased with the way it turned out, and very glad I stuck with it to the end.

 

Website: Please go HERE.

 

You can buy your copy HERE:

Scribbler: Where is your favourite spot to write? Are you messy or neat? Your beverage of choice?

Joe: I write portions of each book at various places. The concept notes can come together wherever I happen to be. My notes are a blur of frantic handwriting, nearly indecipherable until I transcribe them. Sometimes, when I’m at large and trying to work through something I’ll write in an email draft that I can later cut and paste into my document. Once I get settled and ready to begin writing in earnest, I split my time between writing on my laptop and writing freehand scenes or fragments that will be added later on. I frequently have an array of web pages open to whatever I’m researching at a given time, and notes scattered all around me. Sheryl is fond of telling me my approach to writing is odd and unorthodox, and I don’t necessarily disagree. My style is my style, it might not work for everyone but it seems to work for me.

I like to get comfy in my usual spot on the couch, dogs sprawled all around me, laptop at the ready, one of a few specific musical selections in the background, and a Rockstar energy drink close at hand. In terms of music, it varies depending on the tone of what I’m working on. I choose something familiar from a small selection of regular titles so it isn’t a distraction.

An Excerpt from Putting Down Roots

The afternoon sun had drifted across the sky, casting long, eerie shadows over the yard. He stared intently at the carnivorous tree from as close as he dared to go. It simultaneously frightened and infuriated him, and trying to come to terms with how to deal with it perplexed him. The worst thing was that for the most part, it seemed deceptively serene, albeit frightening, and certainly appeared no more like a killer than any tree could be capable of. And the fact of the matter was he had yet to actually see it do anything other than stand there and look formidable, if somewhat dilapidated. Still, there was no mistake about what had been going on since his family had moved into the house, and apparently, for much longer. He wondered how many pets had gone missing in the area. Or kids. The thought made him shiver. 

The tree had to go. That much had become obvious. The trick, then, was to figure out the best way to destroy it once and for all. It occurred to him that maybe nobody had ever tried to kill it. Maybe, he reasoned, they had preferred to keep it around for its potentially useful abilities. In the early days, when it had been used as a tool of justice, that would almost certainly have been the case. In the years since, it seemed to have drifted from known entity to local legend, to all-but-forgotten folklore. Yet surely somebody, at some point, must have tried. Revenge, perhaps, for the death of a loved one. For that matter, how it had escaped the destructive swath of developers for so long remained a mystery. Maybe they’ve tried. It probably eats landscapers, too. Maybe even city planners. It made his head swim to think of just how much carnage the tree had caused over the years. 

He pondered his options while he stared and studied the details of the tree and examined the angles for the best possible point of access. He was vaguely aware of Crunchy’s muffled bark, a steady, agitated roop-roop from within the house, muffled by the glass door. He had no idea what the dog wanted and tried to push it out of his head and ignore it while he plotted. He considered the possibility of an attack from one of the sides with an axe or, even better, a chainsaw. Could he do enough damage before it fought back? He shivered as he recalled the stealthy attack on Shaw and doubted that would work. 

He started toward the shed, then turned back toward the house only to stop himself again in mid-stride. He paced out of nervousness and habit, he realized, with no clue where to go or what he was trying to accomplish. Is the knothole watching me? Can it see me? A disturbing thought occurred to him. Maybe that’s the eye of the beast that never sleeps, waiting for its next meal to wander too close. He paced several feet back and forth in front of the tree, his eyes locked on the hole, watching for any sign of recognition or cognizance. He realized how crazy his actions would appear to anyone who happened to see him and almost turned back, but he just couldn’t risk it. On the other hand, he reasoned, maybe it would be better if the authorities were to deal with the tree. At least that way, if someone gets eaten, it won’t be me. He gave a sharp cackle, somewhat surprised at his ability to find humour despite the circumstances. It occurred to him that he might be losing his mind, that Shaw’s death may have been the last straw that forced him over the edge. 

The ground shifted violently, and the tree suddenly vanished from his line of sight. His world was spinning, and he was falling backward. He landed hard with a grunt almost before he even knew his feet had gone out from under him. So intent was he on solving the conundrum facing him that he had failed to notice the earth ripple beneath his feet, or the snaking root that had broken the surface and latched onto its target. He gave a strangled cry and struggled mightily to free himself, but unlike with that first encounter Herb Shaw had experienced, there would be no narrow escape; the root was wrapped tightly around his foot, and he was held fast in a vice-like grip. He looked around frantically for any sign of someone who might help but saw nobody, heard nothing save for the faint creak of the root tightening its grip and the rustle of something much larger slithering just under the surface. With a groaning swoosh, one of the low-hanging branches reached around and ensnared him despite his desperate resistance. He thrashed and fought like a man possessed but was surrounded and forced to fend off attacks from all sides at once. He grabbed a nearby limb with both hands and strained with all his might, to no avail. It felt like steel cables wrapped around his leg, reeling him in. 

More branches had twisted themselves around his legs as he was slowly drawn toward the sinister hole in its trunk with a steady and unyielding force. Most of his attention was drawn to the knothole that lay ahead; though it was mid-afternoon, not a hint of sunlight penetrated the murky depths of the branches. The only illumination present was a faint green glow that emanated from within the knothole itself. 

I’m going to die, Matt thought bleakly. I am going to be dragged screaming into that hole, which is far too small to accommodate me. The tree doesn’t care, it will pull me through anyway. The pain is going to be horrible, and whatever is left of me is going to get a really good look at what makes this thing tick.

Thank you for taking the time to visit and read about my new novel.

Thank you Joe, for being our guest. We wish you continued success with your writing.

Thanks to all our visitors and readers. 

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