A Writer's Week #129: What Next?

 As I noted in my last post, the Deliverers series is now complete. That brings to an end a huge writing chapter in my life. Leaving Eric, Kate, Stig and Hallo behind has been a very difficult thing. The question is, what to do next?

Re-opening the writing side of my life at the end of 2022 was a big decision. The main focus was to refresh the existing three books and complete the fourth. I accomplished that in 2023, and book four was released in February, completing the series. So, mission accomplished.

Greg & Abby writing at Hampton Beach, NH c. 2013

I guess that could be the end. I could stop knowing that there were no loose ends, no hanging threads. Actually, though, there is one thread still dangling. Years ago, when I was fresh out of college, before color was invented and everything was still in black and white, I was a youth advisor to my church's high school community group. It was there that I first started writing with the purpose of sharing what I wrote with others. I wrote a story for the group's Christmas retreat at the request of my deacon. I wound up writing a story every year for 15 years. I would read the story at the retreat and the teens seemed to enjoy them. Each one was tied to the theme of that year's retreat. I would also give copies out to friends and family as Christmas presents.

In a number of those stories, a white owl would appear to guide the main character. A couple years after I left the group and got married, I decided to write a book. As I was casting about for some sort of story idea, my mind strayed back to that white owl and I began to wonder just who he was and where he came from. That's when I discovered that his name was Stig and that he would be sent to help a boy named Eric.

So, there's the loose thread. I've decided to publish 12 of those stories, and I've made the decision to present them with minimal editing, keeping them the same as they were when I first read them all those years ago. This will be going out on a limb somewhat, as these are more spiritual/religious stories rather than straight middle grade fantasy. They are geared toward middle grade/teen readers. The best way to describe them are modern day fables or fairy tales with a religious or spiritual theme. 

Definitely a new market for me, and I hope readers of the Deliverers won't be put off and will give them a look-see. I have reached an agreement with Emily Hurst-Pritchett to design the cover and to do 12 half-page illustrations, one for each story. I'm hoping to release the book in early summer.

I am kind of at a loss as to how to market the book. I might start another blog, but that seems a bit much. For now, I will post updates on this blog and on the Deliverers Facebook page. The book also includes four of the poems I wrote in college. I've asked my wife to do some sketches for those. 

I'm kind of excited about the new project, but also a little nervous. I'll post an excerpt from a story and the artwork, once that's set to give you all a taste. What are your thoughts? Have you ever taken a chance and done something different? What were the results? I'll share what happens for me as this moves along.

Peace.

The Deliverers 4: Chapter 4 - 1777

Eric felt like he was in a dream as he walked down the dusty road with his friends past places that were familiar but foreign. Many of the houses he was used to seeing were not there. Others were, but they were different—newer looking and less worn, and also less modern. He felt like someone who had been out of town for a long time. It was the same place, but it had changed.

As they walked, they encountered some of the townspeople going about their business—a farmer on a wagon pulled by a team of oxen, a middle aged woman in a long homespun dress and shawl shepherding a couple of children in linen shirts and patched breeches. Everyone they met wished them a good day, but it seemed to Eric that they eyed them strangely and perhaps a bit distrustfully. Eric guessed that the sight of two unfamiliar children and a dwarf being followed by a snowy owl in flight was the cause of their consternation.

They continued along the road toward the center of town. But it took longer to reach than Eric thought. The town center was much smaller in 1777 than in the present day. It seemed alien to him. There were no supermarkets or shopping centers, just houses and a few shops. Eric’s stream, which had followed the road widened out into a mill pond that powered a grist mill, the rushing water turning a large wheel to grind corn and wheat into flour.

                                        

“My town is really different,” he said.

“I think it’s nice,” Kate said.

“Yeah, you said that, but to me it’s like being in a museum. It’s also freaky to think that no one I know will be born for, like, 200 years or more.”

“That’s gotta be strange, sure enough,” Hallo agreed. “But it’s also somethin’ that few if any have had a chance t’ do.”

“What do you mean, Hallo?” Eric asked.

“Well I know I’d love t’ go back t’ the foundin’ of the Dwarf Kingdom, don’t ya know. It’d be great t’ see King Orvis I settin’ up the Kingdom and diggin’ the first mine. It’d be a chance t’ see hist’ry.”

A chance to see history. Eric had not thought about it like that. He might even get to witness the real Battle of Candlewood Corners. That would be cool.

They were passing by the town blacksmith’s shed. When he heard the clang, clang of a hammer ringing on iron, Eric realized how quiet it had been. In the 21st century he was used to hearing the constant rumble of traffic and the occasional jet or helicopter flying overhead. Here in the 18th century bird calls, the hum of insects and the mooing of cattle were the dominant sounds.

In the center of town, only a few things were recognizable. Just about everything was different. In the heart of the village, King’s Highway intersected the road they were traveling on. Directly ahead of them, Eric recognized the old Congregational church which would one day be converted into the town library.

When they reached the King’s Highway intersection, Eric looked to his left and gasped. There stood Keller Tavern. What had surprised him was that it looked almost exactly like it did in his time.

“Wow, I guess some things never change,” he murmured.

“What was that, my boy?” Stig asked as he landed beside him.

“The tavern—It looks the same. The people in my town treat it almost like a shrine.”

“Why’s that?” Hallo wondered.

“There was, or will be, a battle here,” Eric explained. “The British came up this road looking for stores and ammunition collected by the colonists here in town. The local militia mustered under and around that tree,” Eric pointed to a large oak across the street from the tavern. Eric noted it was a lot smaller than it was in his day. “It’s called the Liberty Tree, or that’s what it will be called someday. The militia stood against the British troops. In the fighting, the tavern was hit by several cannonballs. One even lodged in the wall. In my time, it’s a museum and the cannonball is still stuck in the wall.”

The Deliverers 4: Chapter 3 -- Brave, Old World

As soon as they were through, the door disappeared, just as it always did. Eric surveyed the landscape.

They were standing next to a stream that was bordered on the left by a steep grass-covered rise and on the right by a dusty dirt road. It was fall—the leaves on the trees off in the distance were a fiery mix of red, yellow and orange.

A few large oaks bordered the road, but the nearby area was mostly farmland. Stone walls marked off fields. On the ridge above them a herd of brown cattle grazed.

“This is your world, any idea where we’re at, laddie?” Hallo asked.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” Eric replied. “If this is the Revolution, then it’s almost 250 years before I was born.” Just thinking about the meaning of that was creeping Eric out.

The sight of the hill, the stream and the road gave him a funny feeling. It all seemed so different, and yet familiar…then it hit him.

“Hey guys, I think this is my stream.”

“What do you mean?” Kate asked.

“Well, there’s a stream a lot like this one that flows through my front yard, right by the state highway,” Eric explained. “And there’s a hill that leads up to the yard on the other side.”

“Ah yes, I think I see what you mean,” said Stig, who had been to Eric’s house before. “That’s the hill you had to blunder down to get to the drainpipe, only now there are no trees or undergrowth and the state highway is just a dirt track.”

“Oh wow,” Kate gasped. “Very weird.”

“Yeah, real freaky,” Eric agreed. “Hey, my house was only built 50 years ago. I wonder what was there before.”

“It seems to me you’ve been given a unique opportunity to find out,” Stig said.

“Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” Hallo asked. “Lead the way, laddie. Let’s see what the ol’ homestead looks like.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Eric said.

With Eric in the lead, they all crossed the stream and climbed over a stone wall. Eric was gripped by a strange sense of unreality as he walked up what would have been his driveway toward his house. But there was neither driveway nor house. Instead, he saw a meadow where cows were grazing on thistles and dry autumn grass. A few fields away was a small farmhouse, wisps of gray smoke rising from its chimney.

Eric’s legs went a little wobbly. This was a little too much to take.

“Oh man, this is messed up,” Eric said. “My yard is a cattle field.”

“That farm reminds me a little of home,” Kate said. “I kind of like your world, Eric.”

Eric gave a weak smile. “Um, well Calendria sort of reminded me of descriptions of the American colonies during the Revolution, but I never thought I’d actually get a chance to find out for sure.”

“I say, it must be quite a shock to you my boy,” Stig said. “But I really think we should see about finding someone who can get us up to date on what’s been happening around here—er, no pun intended.”

“Yeah, I guess that would be good,” Eric agreed, nodding absently.

“Which way to town?” Stig asked.

“Town? Um, uh it’s that way,” he said, pointing vaguely toward the road.

Stig flapped his wings. “Splendid! Then I daresay we should be off.”

The owl took to the air and Kate turned and started back the way they had come.

Hallo took Eric gently by the arm. “Come on lad, ya can’t stand around lookin’ for what won’t be here for a couple hundred years, don’t ya know. Let’s be off.”

They headed down the hill to the road together.

The Deliverers 4: Chapter 2 -- Back, Back, Back

The Hallway of Worlds had not changed. The red-carpeted corridor stretched on seemingly forever to his left and right. Identical rectangular doors with panes of frosted glass in their upper halves lined the Hallway. Behind him, he knew, his own door had changed back to resemble the others—it always did. Golden chandeliers hung at intervals from the ceiling, their many candles burning without a flicker in the still air.

Without warning, a desk materialized on his right. It was littered with papers and files. A quill was stuck in a jar of India ink. Behind the desk stood the smiling figure of an old man. He was dressed in blue shimmering robes and wore a conical blue hat with golden stars and moons on it. Blue eyes twinkled behind gold wire rimmed spectacles and his long white beard cascaded over the front of his robes.

Darting around the desk with no hint of age, the old man embraced Eric roughly. “Hello my boy, so good to see you. Happy birthday, by the way. The others should be here shortly. Things are moving so quickly that I sent Stig to Calendria to get the others while I called you. Oh yes, here they come now.”

Eric turned and saw his friends hurrying down the Hallway toward him.

A girl with long black hair rushed up and hugged him. “Hi Eric. Happy birthday,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. She looked up at him with sparkling violet eyes. “I really missed you.”

“Uh, hi Kate,” Eric stammered. Kate looked even older than when he had last seen her that past summer. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

“Hey, what about me?” a dwarf with a long red beard asked as he grabbed Eric’s hand and pumped it up and down. “I missed ya too, don’t ya know. It sure is good t’ see ya, laddie. You’re a sight for sore eyes and no mistake. Ain’t that right, birdie?”

“Yes, quite,” agreed a large white owl who had just alighted on the Gatekeeper’s desk. “How are you, my boy? I hope you’ve had a splendid birthday.”

“It just got a whole lot better, Stig, thanks,” Eric said, smiling. “Hey Hallo, how’s everything?”

“Oh can’t complain, can’t complain,” the dwarf replied. “Then again, if I did, no one’d listen more ‘n likely. Hey, birdie said it was your birthday. Congrats lad. What’re ya up to now?”

“I’m 14.”

Hallo laughed. “Hey not bad, not bad. He’ll be catchin’ us soon, eh birdie?”

“He certainly is growing up before our eyes,” Stig said with the hint of a smile.

“I’ve got a long way to go to catch you two,” Eric said, laughing. Stig was over 400 years old and Hallo was approaching his 200th birthday. “But at least I’m older than one of us.”

“Hey, be nice. I’ll be as old as you in a month,” Kate said.

“Well, now that we’ve got that all sorted out, perhaps we should get to the task at hand,” the Gatekeeper cut in.

“Yes sir,” Eric said. He had been so happy to see his friends he had almost forgotten everything else.

 “What’s our Assignment this time?”

The Gatekeeper frowned. “It’s really something a bit out of the ordinary this time my boy.”

“A bit out of the ordinary, sir?” he asked. What could be more out of the ordinary than any of the other Assignments he had been on so far?

“Yes. Do you remember your last Assignment?”

“Why sure we do,” Hallo said. “We had t’ find that there Dragon’s Voice on the Dragon Islands.”

“Yes and you did a marvelous job. Do you remember the last time you were in the Hallway of Worlds?”

“Yes, you took us to that door that was chained and locked. The sparkling mist had stopped leaking out from under it,” Kate said, frowning.

Eric remembered, too. That door was the one door in the entire Hallway that did not have a world behind it. Supposedly it was a door to nowhere and had been used to store matter from worlds that had failed. The matter, or sparkling mist because that is what it looked like, had begun to seep out from under the door and was finding its way into troubled worlds, contributing to their instability. The mist had shown up on two worlds that they had visited.

When they had returned from the successful completion of their last Assignment, the Gatekeeper had informed them that the real reason the door had been padlocked was not to keep people from wandering in, but to keep someone or something from getting out.

The Gatekeeper nodded. “And I told you that whatever was in there had torn a hole out of that non-world and was loose.”

“Yeah, I remember. They could be anywhere now.”

“Yes they could,” the Gatekeeper agreed. “However, I now have a bit more information.”

“What have you discovered?” Stig asked.

“Well, this creature is made from the combined matter of many failed worlds. That means its makeup is quite complex. I believe it is capable of assuming whatever guise it desires.”

“That’s gonna make him tough t’ nail down, don’t ya know,” Hallo said, removing his red cloth cap and scratching his head.

“I’ve been doing a bit of checking,” the Gatekeeper said. “As you are aware, I have a number of different teams that go out on Assignments clearing up problems on troubled worlds. I have asked them to keep their eyes open for signs of this creature. They all reported encounters with sparkling mist on their Assignments, which confirms my suspicions that the mist is at the root of the recent unrest on all worlds over the last few years.”

“So you mean it’s been going on longer than you thought?” Kate asked.

“Exactly,” the Gatekeeper replied. “This creature has been working quietly behind the scenes and I knew nothing about it—something that has not happened in a very, very long time.”

“Besides the sparkling mist, has anyone discovered anything else about the creature?” Eric asked.

“It was very elusive, although it has been sighted periodically,” the Gatekeeper said. “Finally, one team got a definite fix and I was able to put a Tracker on it.”

“What’s a Tracker?” Eric asked.

“An agent trained in surveillance and disguise. They can move easily from world to world. Once they are on the trail, they are very difficult to shake.”

“Well, that’s news to me,” Stig said, ruffling his feathers. “All this time, and you never told me about them.”

The Gatekeeper chuckled. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled my dear friend. I’m entitled to keep one or two secrets. Trackers would not be nearly as effective if everyone knew about them. Anyway, the Tracker has followed the elusive creature to an unexpected location.”

“Where is that?” Stig asked.

“Eric’s world,” the Gatekeeper said simply.

“My world,” Eric cried. The thought of a strange creature that could change itself into anything wreaking havoc in his world was scary. “Where is it, exactly?”

“The question is not where my boy, but when,” the Gatekeeper replied. “The creature has discovered a way to use the sparkling mist to punch a hole in the very fabric of time itself.”

“So he could be anywhere at any time in the history of Eric’s world,” Stig mused.

“Wow. Have ya got any idea where…er…um, when he is?” Hallo asked.

“He is on Eric’s world during a conflict known as the American Revolution, and,” here the Gatekeeper looked intently at Eric, “He’s in Eric’s home town.”

“Candlewood Corners? But why?” Eric cried.

The Gatekeeper frowned. “I don’t know for sure, but I have a guess. The creature is trying to change history, most likely with the intent to tear the fabric of Eric’s world apart.”

“Why?” Eric asked.

“My information indicates that it is trying to undermine the stability of the universe. For that it needs to gain power, more specifically, matter. Destroying a few worlds would give it plenty of matter to work with.”

“Wow,” Kate said. “That’s bad.”

“Bad. Bad?” Eric shrieked. “It’s terrible. Some whacked out creature is trying to destroy my world. We can’t let that happen. We have to do something!”

“Yeah, Eric’s right, we gotta do somethin’,” Hallo agreed. “But, er, what?”

“Of course we have to do something. We can’t let worlds be destroyed if we can help it,” the Gatekeeper said calmly. “I’m going to send you all back in time to Eric’s world, as long as that’s all right with all of you.”

“I’m in,” Eric said firmly.

“We wouldn’t dream of not helping Eric save his world,” Kate said. “We’re all in.”

“Absolutely,” Stig said.

“Ya can count on me, don’t ya know,” Hallo agreed.

“Thanks guys,” Eric said, tearing up. “But it’s not just my world. We gotta stop this thing. If it gets enough power, who knows what it’ll do.”

“Splendid. Now, let’s see. My, my, this is going to take some doing,” the Gatekeeper said, stroking his beard.

“Don’t we just go through my door?” Eric asked.

Kate rolled her eyes. “Oh Eric, please. If we did that we’d just wind up on your world in the present.”

Eric blushed. “Oh yeah, true.”

“As I was saying, this will take some doing,” the Gatekeeper repeated. “Now let me see, it’s been a long time…”

The Gatekeeper approached the door and placed his right hand on its frosted glass window. He turned his hand counter-clockwise and the door turned with it, blurring and spiraling like it had been liquefied. When he removed his hand, the door was upside down. The Gatekeeper smiled.

“There, that should do it,” he said with satisfaction. “When you enter, you will find things are a little bit different Eric. Good luck to all of you. This Assignment may be your most critical.”

With that, Eric pushed to door open and they all passed through.

The Deliverers 4: Sparkling Mist of Time--Prologue

 Well, where to begin...it's been forever since I posted here. It's a good bet there is no one out there reading after all this time. However, I've decided to post the prologue to the 4th Deliverers book to see if it generates any feedback. Or a response of any kind. LOL. Well, here goes. Let me know what you think.

Prologue

Long Island Sound, 1 October, 1777

The swells of the incoming tide gently rocked the HMS Halifax as she lay at anchor with the other 25 ships in His Majesty’s fleet on Long Island Sound, just off the Connecticut coast. The light of a full moon shone dully through the windows of the aft cabin.

The interior of this chamber, although large, was sparsely furnished. A bunk was built into the wall beneath the bank of windows in the ship’s stern. Against one wall was a bookcase filled with leather bound books. On the other was a dressing table on which sat a wig stretcher holding a powdered wig.

In the center of the room a man was seated at a large desk. A lantern hung from a beam overhead, bathing the cabin in a flickering light. The man pored over a map while sipping from a goblet of Madeira wine. Heaving a sigh, he rose and slowly unfastened the brass buttons of his red officer’s jacket. Slipping it off slowly, he hung it from the back of his Windsor chair and stretched.

Running a hand through his graying hair, he walked over to the dressing table, poured some water from a pitcher into a ceramic basin, splashed his face and rubbed his eyes.

He turned to see a black hole in the center of the room. He gaped. It stood upright. From around the edges, wisps of pale gray sparkling mist trailed out and crawled along the Persian carpet. Someone emerged from the opening and stood in the middle of the room. The figure was hooded and cloaked in black—he could not see a face. He rubbed his eyes again, but the specter stood there still. Was it his imagination, or did it sparkle just as the mist did? Suddenly, the hole closed with a snap.

“Good evening General,” the figure rasped.

“Wh--what is the meaning of this intrusion?” the officer asked.

“That, my dear General Tryon you shall learn soon enough,” it replied. “But for now, sit and pour yourself some more wine. It might calm your nerves.”

General Tryon sank unsteadily into his chair and poured the wine with a trembling hand. Slowly, he raised the glass to his lips and drank, never taking his eyes off his uninvited guest. The wine did indeed steady him, but only just a bit.

Taking a deep breath he said, “You have stolen aboard a vessel of His Majesty’s fleet and broken into the quarters of an officer of the imperial British navy. I do not know how, but once again, I demand to know why, sir.”

“Well said,” the mysterious man replied. “I must say that I expected no less from such an august personage. I admit to being surprised to find you on a ship out in the sound and not in the governor’s mansion.”

Tryon winced. “A governor’s duty is to his king first and foremost. In this time of unrest, King George III finds it necessary to send Admiral Lord Howe to oversee His Majesty’s troops. He declared martial law and so my responsibilities as governor were severely curtailed.”

The figure nodded. “Yes, I know. You were sent here to lead an expedition into Connecticut colony to destroy food and ammunition being gathered by the rebels while more important things are afoot.”

General Tryon grunted. “I am not at liberty to divulge the army’s plans to an unknown.”

“Naturally. Why don’t I run through them for you? Your operation is but a diversion to draw the colonials’ manpower away from the true objective. A force is to sweep down from Canada through New York while Lord Howe dispatches another army up the Hudson Valley to meet them, thereby cutting New England off from the rest of the colonies as one would lop the head from a chicken. A neat little plan,” the sparkling man mused.

“How did you come to know all this?” General Tryon asked.

“I know many things, my friend. You regret not being asked to lead one of the forces.”

“Howe should have sent me to command!” Tryon snarled, bringing his fist crashing down on the desk. “The mission will fail without my leadership.”

“You are correct, they will fail. That is why I am here.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Tryon asked, his eyes narrowing.

“You want fame and glory—your name to be remembered through history. I can give that to you.”

An eager light gleamed in the general’s eyes. “Can you? And what would you stand to gain from that?”

“I can help you carry out Lord Howe’s plans, which will restore the American colonies to the crown. In return, all I ask is to lead the first wave of attackers—my own handpicked troops.”

“Your offer is tempting…” Tryon murmured. “But first I must know with whom I am dealing. Remove your hood, sir.”

“Very well,” the man said and pulled the cloak from his head. His scarred blue face sparkled.

“Wh—who are you?” Tryon gasped.

“Someone who will make the name of William Tryon live forever!” the blue man rasped.

A Writer's Week #116: Charting a Course

This week was a busy one at work, so I did not accomplish as much as I'd hoped. Still, I managed to get a fair amount done in spite of it all. When I stopped work on The Deliverers 4 in mid-2014, I did so because I was feeling burned out writing-wise and stressed about life in general. As I look back on that time, I think one of the underlying reasons I decided to stop was that I just wasn't satisfied with where the fourth book was heading. The plot was a little one-dimensional and I just didn't have the energy to at the time to figure out exactly what was wrong, tear it down and rebuild it.

I never really totally let the book go, however. From time to time I'd pull out a printed copy of what I'd written and make a few changes here and there. I'd also catch myself turning over different ideas and alternatives in my head. Sometimes, a completely different idea for a book would pop into my head, but each time I'd discard it as either too much effort, or not good enough. All the time, Eric and his friends were in the back of my mind patiently waiting for me.

So here we are in Fall, 2016 and Eric and Stig have started nudging me (I guess they were getting impatient). So last weekend I fired up my laptop and discovered it needed 58 updates! As I said earlier, this week at work was really busy. I'm working on a big project with a high learning curve.

All the same, I managed to tackle some of my plot issues and work out an updated and improved story line. I still haven't figured out the ending, but I did plot out the majority of the book. I was also able to begin rewriting. While I haven't progressed very far in that regard, I've started and that's what counts.

My goal for the coming week is to continue to work on rewrites and to begin writing writing the rest of the book the following week. Once I get to that point, I'll start posting parts of the book here. Please feel free to provide feedback. As I said last week, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this book. I may go the full release route as I've done with the previous three, or I might just release it on Kindle, or maybe I'll just serialize it here. We'll see where this journey takes me. I hope you'll come along for the ride.

I'll see you next week. Peace.

Character Interview: Kang

Eric and the rest of the Deliverers make a lot of new friends in The Deliverers 3: The Golden Dragon of Ang. One of them is a former member of a group known as the Denchi Assassins. The Denchi are assassins for hire. Kang was expelled from the group for calling out the leader of the Denchi, someone known as the Fang. Let's see what he's got to say.

Greg:  Thank you  for stopping by. I know you have been busy lately, but what was it like working with the Deliverers?

Kang:  It was unusual. I have always worked alone in the past, but Stig and Hallo had such a big stake in this particular mission that they had to be included. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by a mob.

Greg:  A mob?

Kang:  Yes. More people became involved than I bargained for and events unfolded very quickly.

Greg:  I see. Well, can you tell us a little bit about yourself?

Kang:  There is not much to tell. I was raised on a farm in Hindra, the Tail of the Dragon Islands. Thirsting for adventure I went home to seek my fortune. I was soon recruited by the Denchi Assassins, a group of renegades and rogues who are highly skilled killers for hire. After vying for the position of Fang, leader of the Denchi, and failing, I was scheduled to be executed. I managed to escape. Since then I have spent my time wandering the Islands, still looking for adventure.

Greg:  Okay. What about this Adventure appealed to you?

Kang:  I was given this task by the Governors of the Dragon Islands. It would have been dishonorable to refuse it. Besides, the little man, Hallo, amuses me.

Greg:  Yep, he can be a real hoot sometimes, especially when he's not trying to. What was it like travelling the Islands with the Deliverers?

Kang:  As I said, Hallo is an amusing little man. Stig is wise. I had never met a talking bird before. e speaks the Dragon's wisdom, I think. Eric and Kate are brave and determined children. It was a most enlightening adventure.

Greg:  What did you take away from it?

Kang:  First, that there are worlds beyond my own that I never before imagined. Second, that there are more important things to do with your life than to waste it seeking revenge.

Greg:  No doubt. Well, thank you Kang. It was great getting to know you a little bit. Thanks for stopping by.

Kang:  It was my pleasure. If you are ever on Hindra, look me up. I'm in Hensha, the capital city.

The Lost Chapter

Back when I was writing The Deliverers: Sharky and the Jewel, I took a writing class at Fairfield University that was taught by children's author Louise Ladd. Every week we submitted a chapter or so to be critiqued by the class. After the fourth week, Louise dropped a bombshell on me. She said that while my writing was good, the story was taking too long to develop.

That's when she issued the challenge. She said, "Greg I'd really like to see you boil down the first three chapters into one. Get them through the drainpipe, through the Hallway of Worlds, and into Calendria by the end of chapter one."

Gulp. That week I worked really hard and condensed everything down to one longish chapter. Louise could not believe it and I've got her to thank for teaching me how to get a story off the ground quickly. I wound up cutting the entire second chapter. It was hard to do, because it was all about Stig and I liked it. It wasn't necessary, though, so I cut it. Now I'd like to share it with you. Here it is.

Stig’s Story

            “I was hatched many, many years ago, oh let me see—well over four hundred.”

            “Four hundred?” exclaimed Eric in surprise. “I didn’t think anyone could be so old.”

            “Yes, well I’m really considered quite young by the standards of my world—merely middle aged. Anyway, I spent my youth in the usual pursuits, many decades of school—an owl is nothing if not well educated—hunting by night with my parents and later, with my friends. Oh yes, what wild times we had then, I must say. Quite the rascals were we, always looking for a bit of excitement. There’s nothing like swooping through the trees at night, with the moon at your back, onto a juicy little field mouse or a blind mole.

            “As I grew older, my parents began hinting, and then stating, that I should make something of myself and get a respectable job like my father, who was a most respected judge in the forest’s high court. So I followed in the old bird’s footsteps. It was okay for a while. In fact, if I do say so myself, I acquired the reputation of being a wise and respectable owl—a far cry from the wilder days of my youth. As the years passed I continued to do well for myself, and moved into my own tree, although I was still only in early adulthood.

            “But I had soon had enough of that. I was looking for something more. I took to flying by day, something no respectable owl would do, and found that the world was much more interesting than I had imagined. I left my family, job and tree to explore my world. Humans are not numerous where I come from—they live in small tribes and make very little trouble aside from an occasional arrow or two—and we have many of the same animals that are found here as well as others that you would think quite different. I searched many beautiful forests and mountain ranges and flew across oceans and deserts. I explored for many years and met many interesting and intelligent creatures. As is the way with my species I collected a great deal of knowledge until, I daresay, I was the most knowledgeable of my kind, although not, perhaps, the wisest.

      “One evening, flying over a part of the world that I was not entirely familiar with, I saw a mountain rising from an otherwise flat landscape. All around was empty and barren—not a creature stirred on the plain below. As I flew toward the mountain for a closer look, I saw a narrow cleft in the rock about five feet high and three feet wide midway up the mountain’s stone slope. Without a second thought as to what I was doing, I flew straight through the cleft. It opened into a cave that was only about five feet wide, but very long. In fact, as I peered into the blackness, I could not see the back of it. I landed on damp earth and looked around. The walls and ceiling were rough stone and the floor was dirt. It appeared to be uninhabited. Well, now my curiosity was piqued. I flew toward the back of the cave for a long way. It seemed to go on forever. When I did finally reach the end, I encountered something very strange.

            “You would call it a door, but I had never seen one. To me it looked like a large rectangle of wood with a square of some semi transparent material set in the upper half. It looked like I had come to a dead end. What to do? What was this thing? I landed in front of it, and could feel a warm stream of air coming from a crack underneath it. That got my attention—it wasn’t solid. As I looked closer, I could see that the right side of the thing was fastened to the cave wall by two shiny pieces of metal. I had seen metal used in the villages of men, but it was dark and dull, not shiny yellow like this.

      “I thought that perhaps this thing was not the end of the cave, but merely a covering for a smaller passage beyond, so I walked up to it and nudged it with my beak. It swung forward slightly—showing me a brief glimpse of some lighted space beyond—and then swung backward, nearly knocking me off my feet. Gaining courage, I took flight and flew at the upper corner of the thing.

      “I can tell you that I got a nasty bump on my head, but I got through. I found myself in a long passageway. Directly ahead of me was another wall and a door identical to the one I had just come through. In fact the passage, which ran from my right to left, was lined on both sides with these doors, and seemed to go on in either direction for a great distance. I landed in the hallway and gazed about me, thoroughly puzzled.

      “I walked across the passage to the door directly across the way and gave it a hard push with my beak. It swung open a little way, revealing a raging blizzard. A gust of mountain air hit me in the face before the door swung shut. Shivering, I turned back toward my door and froze.

      “Next to it, a desk strewn with papers had appeared. At the desk sat a little man with a long white beard. He wore a shapeless brown cap and a rumpled blue robe and sat looking at me through gold-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his long, pointed nose. His blue eyes twinkled and his mouth wore an amused grin.

      “After I had gotten over my shock he said, ‘Hello, master owl. You have arrived precisely on time! Punctuality is a quality that is all too rare these days. Of course, I’ve always found it hard to time these things. I never seem to get here quite as quickly as I would like, and that always makes for a certain amount of confusion. I hope you have not been terribly put out?’

      “I was extremely confused, but the manners my mother had drilled into me from the time I was a chick automatically kicked in. ‘Oh no, not too much,’ I said, ‘It’s just that I’m not terribly sure what’s happened. I was exploring a cave and I ran into that wooden thing…’

      ‘Ah, that’s a door. I’m sorry, that’s how the gateways work. The best way, really, although it’s hard when you don’t have hands to push with. If I’d been on time as I’d planned, I would have opened it for you. Oh well, these things happen,’ the old man smiled cheerfully.”

      “I studied him in silence as he gazed at me patiently. ‘Where am I?’ I finally asked.

      “The old man’s grin widened. ‘You are in the Hallway of Worlds!’ he said proudly, raising his wrinkled hands to indicate the passage. ‘Each one of these doors leads to a different world!’

      ‘But, there must be thousands of doors. There can’t possibly be that many worlds.’ The doors seemed endless to me.”

      "‘Millions, actually,’ said the old man. ‘I’m not sure of the exact number. It’s not constant, but it’s definitely in the millions.’

      ‘Why isn’t it constant?’ I asked.

      ‘Well, worlds come and go. Some end and some begin,’ he explained.

      “I thought about that for a bit. ‘So if I go through a door, I’ll be in a different world?’ I asked.

      ‘Right you are!’ he said, smiling because I understood, although I didn’t really. ‘But you couldn’t unless I let you into the Hallway.’

      ‘And you are?’ I asked.

      ‘I am the Gatekeeper.’

     ‘You’re the Gatekeeper,’ I echoed, trying to drink it all in. ‘And you oversee the Hallway of Worlds?’

      "His eyes gleamed. ‘Oh, I could tell that you were smart, but I wasn’t expecting you to catch on so quickly. Jump up on my desk and I’ll explain.’

      “I flew up onto his desk and settled in, ready for a long explanation.

      ‘As I said, each one of these doors leads to another world. I am in charge of traffic to and from worlds, something that is allowed only when there is a need.’

      ‘When there is a need?’ I echoed.

      ‘Yes. These doorways cannot be found by chance. They are found only if I want them to be. It used to be much different,’ he said. ‘There were no doors, no control, only blind openings. Back then, inhabitants from one world would constantly be stumbling into other worlds. It caused a great many problems. Then one day, I had an idea. I created the Hallway of Worlds. I set doors in each world—only a few mind you—and closed up all the other openings. That made it much less confusing and more orderly. Now, only people on Official Business can use the doorways.’

      “I had been following him okay up to that point, but that last bit confused me. ‘Official Business?’ I asked. ‘What do you mean by that?’

      ‘Well, there comes a time in the progress of any world where it seems to hit a snag, so to speak,’ explained the Gatekeeper.

      ‘A snag?’ I asked. ‘What do you mean by a snag?’

      ‘Oh, it could be a social development problem or a technology problem, or just a stubborn way of thinking—any major problem where some outside help is needed. It usually takes just a little nudge, really, to get things back on track,’ said the Gatekeeper. ‘Some worlds hit a number of snags over the course of their history.’

      “I nodded. ‘And the outside help could be another person, or a donkey, or an owl even?’ I asked.

      “His face broke into a smile so big that I thought his eyes would be lost in his cheeks. ‘Exactly my fine feathered friend, exactly!’

      “I can tell you, my boy, that was a little much for me to take. Somewhere, there was a world that needed my help. Me, of all creatures. What could I do?

      “Actually, it turned out there was quite a bit that I could do. I was scared stiff when the Gatekeeper briefed me on what needed to be done and ushered me through a door. But it turned out to be easier than I had thought. Oh, it was no piece of cake, but I think that the situation was suited to me. After that, he gave me other Assignments, and I’ve been working for him ever since.

      “I’ve been to many worlds, but I’m not allowed to discuss what I’ve done on any of them. The Gatekeeper says it’s nobody’s business—everybody has enough problems of their own. Except me, apparently.” Stig gave a wry grin.

      Eric was thoughtful after he had heard Stig’s story. He wasn’t exactly sure what it all meant, but he knew that Stig’s presence was important. Had the world hit a snag?

Character Interview: Stig & Hallo

As we move closer to the release of The Deliverers 3: The Golden Dragon of Ang, our character interviews continue. Last week we spoke with Eric and Kate about the new book, so this week it's Stig the owl and Hallo the dwarf's turn. I can't wait to hear their thoughts.

Greg;  Hey guys! It's great to see you again. We're really looking forward to The Deliverers 3. What can you tell us about it?

Stig:  I must say that it's very nice to see you once more, as well. I'm not sure we can tell you very much about the book as the Gatekeeper has sworn us to secrecy. However, I do believe it's one of our most exciting Assignments yet. It's got a little bit of everything.

Hallo:  You're right about that, birdie! There's all kinds of stuff goin' on, don't ya know. Things happen bam, bam, bam! First we get sent t' this place called the Dragon Islands where there are these five governors--each on has an island they govern ya see. When we get there, we find the dispenser o' wisdom, the Dragon's Voice, has died and didn't name no one t' come after. That had 'em all worked up ya see. Then we get there and they thing Eric might be the new Voice. From there it just gets wild.

Greg:  Wow, it does sound exciting. Is there anything else you can tell us?

Stig:  Sadly, no. As I said, we are not allowed to divulge much of anything. Isn't that right, Hallo?

Hallo:  Sure, sure. Hey, did ya know I get a chance t' hang out with a real Denchi Assassin? His name

is Kang and we done a lot of sneakin' around followin' trails and goin' through magic portals an' stealin' ships. Not that stealin' a ship is a good thing, but sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do. 

Stig:  Yes, well be that as it may that is all that can be said.

Hallo:  We should tell him the rhyme.

Stig:  Oh I don't think so. You've said far too much already.

Greg:  Rhyme? What rhyme?

Stig:  It's nothing really, merely a bit of doggerel--a children's verse.

Hallo:  Not important? It's one of the most important things. It's the final thing the last Dragon's Voice said before he kicked the bucket. Here, I'll recite it for ya:

From the mouth thou shalt hear

The wisdom o’ far off lands

The way t’ truth is clear

Head, then heart, then hands

Lastly, tail will point the way

T’ the world’s end

Then gold shall have its say

An’ foretell the doom o’ men.

There, I bet ya didn't think I'd remember it all, did ya birdie?

Stig:  I don't know why we even bother having you do these things, Hallo, you just seem bent on spoiling everything. I swear you're incorrigible.

Hallo:  Why thankee, birdie. You're right incorrigibibble yourself.

Greg:  Well done Hallo! Thanks for sharing some of your Assignment on the Dragon Islands. Eric and Kate mentioned that the sparkling mist from your last Assignment comes into play here.

Hallo:  Inta play? Well I guess ya could say that, although we didn't want ta let it in t' play with us. It kinda forced its way in, don't ya know. That mist is right powerful stuff, but I can't say much 'bout that or birdie will skin me alive. Instead, I'll tell ya 'bout this other person we met on our travels. Her name is Jiao and she's just about the prettiest little lass you could imagine. She was makin' eyes at Eric for a little bit there, too. Made him powerful uncomfortable. For some reason it didn't make Kate none too happy either come t' think of it.

Stig:  Hallo, that's quite enough. I must insist that you speak no more of the Assignment.

Hallo:  Okay, okay. I wasn't gonna say anymore. I ain't no blabbermouth ya know. Ya can't give away too much 'bout an Assignment--spoils the fun. Besides, I didn't say anything 'bout the livin' stone warriors or the golden sorcoress or the stolen children or nothin'.

Stig:  Hallo!!!!

Hallo:  Oh, er, um, yeah. Oops, I s'pose I just mentioned 'em, didn't I? Oh well, what's done can't be undone--ya just gotta smile an' keep movin' on.

Stig:  I think that's what we better do. Thank you so much for having us over. Smashing fun!

Hallo:  Yeah it was fun all right, but I didn't break nothin'--honest! See ya around!

Greg:  Thanks for stopping by guys. Good luck with your future assignments! Thanks for chatting with us!

Deliverers 3 Preview #2

A couple of weeks ago I shared the beginning of chapter one of The Golden Dragon of Ang. I also posted the book blurb for the back cover. Tonight I'm going to share another piece of the book. I'd love to hear what you think about it! Here you go.

Kang turned from the view of the river and slowly surveyed the hilltop in the moonlight. Finally he squared his shoulders and strode to the middle of the summit. There, embedded in the ground was a large, flat, oblong stone.

“Is that it?” Hallo asked, squinting at the stone skeptically. “I’ve seen a ton o’ stone in my time an’ I’m certain that ain’t been touched by anyone before. It’s laid there nat’ral like.”

“As I said, the Denchi are cunning,” Kang replied. “They may have tunneled right up to the stone without disturbing it. If they needed to evacuate, all that would have to be done is to push up the stone to exit.”

“That’d be a smart bit o’ tunnelin’, don’t ya know,” Hallo said, kneeling down by the slab of rock. He put his ear to it and rapped smartly with his knuckles. “Huh, I think you’re right, though. It sounds hollow.”

“How can you tell?” Stig asked.

“I growed up underground, an’ spent all m’ time in tunnels,” Hallo replied indignantly. “If anyone can tell if one’s nearby it’d be me.”

“Very well, if both of you are correct, then it appears we have found a means of entry,” Stig said, ruffling his feathers. “The thing that remains is how to get in.”

“That shall not be a problem,” Kang said. He squatted down and began feeling around the edges of the rock.

“Hey you’re strong, but I ain’t about t’ believe you can lift that whole hunk o’ stone by yourself,” Hallo said.

Kang grasped a corner of the slab. Muscles straining, the former Denchi rose slowly from his squat, the rock lifting with him. With a grunt, he raised one end up above his head. Below the stone was a dark hole. “In. Hurry,” he gasped.

Hallo and Stig entered hurriedly, and Kang followed behind. Once they were inside the tunnel, Kang let the slab down. It settled above them with a loud thump.

“It feels good t’ be underground,” Halo whispered. “Ya know m’ motto, it’s always better underground. Only problem is I can’t see nothin’ in this pitch black, don’t ya know.”

“Don’t worry Hallo, I’ll lead you,” Stig reassured him.

They made their way slowly down the tunnel, Stig, then Kang, with Hallo bringing up the rear. It sloped steeply. After a couple hundred yards Hallo felt stone replace the dirt underneath his feet.

“Ah it feels good t’ be in a stone passage, don’t ya know,” he sighed.

“Yes, I’m sure it does,” Stig whispered. “What I would like to know is where this leads. We seem to be descending into the center of the hill. I wonder how close we are to the Denchi outpost. It would be most unpleasant to run into any of them unawares.”

Kang remained silent. With his night vision, Stig saw that the big man’s face gave no hint as to what he was thinking. They kept moving until they came to a fork in the tunnel. Stig stopped them.

“The path splits in two here,” he told them. “I’ve no idea which is the better path.”

Kang stepped forward and ran his hands along the wall, then put his ear to it, listening intently.

“What’re we standin’ here for?” Hallo grumped. “Let’s pick a branch and follow it.”

“Silence!” Kang hissed. Finally, he pointed to the left hand passage. “We go this way.”

“Which way? I can’t see a thing in this blackness!” Hallo snapped.

“Kang’s pointing to the left Hallo,” Stig informed him.

“Why do ya want t’ go that way?” Hallo asked.

“The stones in that tunnel are silent. Nothing stirs,” Kang explained. “Something is disturbing the rock in the other passage.”

“Oh, well why didn’t ya say so?” Hallo snorted. “Quiet rocks are better than noisy ones. Let’s get a move on.”

As they walked, it seemed to Stig that the passageway was becoming lighter. His suspicion was confirmed by Hallo. “Hey, I think it’s gettin’ brighter in here. I can almost see m’ hand in front o’ m’ face.”

“I wonder where the light is coming from,” Stig mused. “It seems to have a bluish hue to it.”

“We must be cautious,” Kang whispered. “Where there is light, there must be people.”

They discovered the source of the light when they turned the next corner. The passage was blocked by a large wooden door. Lined along the tunnel walls leading up to the door were ten finely detailed statues of warriors carved out of stone. They sparkled with a blue light.

When Kang caught sight of this, he stopped. “I do not like this,” he murmured. “Something is not right.”

“Ah, what are ya worried about?” Hallo asked. “They’re only statues, very pretty ones, too. The stonework is first rate. I wonder what makes ‘em sparkle like that?”

“It appears they are guarding the door,” Stig said. “Obviously ceremonial. The room ahead must be of some significance. Perhaps it’s a tomb.”

Just then, the stone warriors turned toward them. Moving in unison, all ten of them drew curved swords.

“Er, I’m a thinkin’ they ain’t just decorative, don’t ya know,” Hallo said, licking his lips.

“I am not familiar with this magic,” Kang said. “Linphen must have discovered something new. Stay behind me, we shall see just how strong this sorcery is.”

Without waiting for a reply, Kang rushed headlong into the midst of the stone soldiers. He grabbed one and raised it above his head. Stig marveled at the big man’s strength as he hurled it into the midst of the other onrushing stone figures, knocking several off their feet and scattering their weapons.

Hallo rushed in and seized a sword. He sprang at the soldier nearest him with a fierce cry, and swung the sword down on it. The sparkling weapon cleaved the stone like butter, slicing the warrior in half. The two halves fell to the floor, their light extinguished.

Kang picked up the fallen soldier’s sword and started swinging, relieving two figures of their heads with one blow. Hallo continued his attack, felling two more.

“Hey, these swords ‘re great things,” he panted. “They cut through stone as easy as scissors cuttin’ paper, don’t ya know.”

“You’re right,” Stig said. “Imagine what they would do against flesh and bone.”

“Why’d ya have t’ say that, ya daft bird?” Hallo snapped. “You’re gonna make me nervous. These rockheads ‘re dangerous.”

With that, he leaped back into the fray, slashing away with his sparkling sword. Stig swooped in and attacked the heads of the stone men, trying to distract them. Any hope that he could do them some injury was dashed when he pecked one and nearly broke his beak on its rocky face.

Kang and Hallo had dispatched two more of them. Two of the remaining soldiers went after Hallo while the last lurched toward the door.

“He’s tryin’ t’ get help!” 

The Character Book Club Welcomes Anna Green

Hey everybody! Today's a real special day, because Greg has handed over control of the Deliverers Blog to me--Kate Endria--and my friend, Hallo Tosis the dwarf. Why has Greg given us power over his blog? We've been asked to host this month's meeting of the Character Book Club! The CBC is this great club where characters from fantastic middle grade novels hang out and get to know each other better! Hallo and I are really excited to be speaking with Anna Green from Maro L. Dill's wonderful book, Finding My Place.

So, let's get right to it.

Kate:  Hi Anna! It’s great to meet you. Welcome to the Deliverers blog and congratulations on becoming a member of the Character Book Club. Hallo and I are really excited to find out more about you and your story. We aren’t from your world, but our friend Eric is, and he told us a little about the Civil War. What was it like to be living in a city under siege?

Anna:  Hi Kate! Before I became part of the Character Book Club, I didn’t even know there was another world, and now I am talking to someone from one. My brother, James, will never believe this, and he is going to be so jealous. To answer your question, living in a city under siege is very difficult. It was very hot during those summer months, and the caves we had to live in weren’t exactly underground—they were built in the sides of yellow clay hills. It was muggy, and there were an awful lot of mosquitoes, too. But the worst part was that my family was separated because of the war. Only three of us were together—myself and my younger siblings, James and Sara.

Hallo:  I heard tell you had t’ live underground for a spell. I’m a dwarf, an’ m’ folk live in the

Dwarf Kingdom under the Iron Mountains. What was it like livin’ in a cave an’ bein’ bombed an’ such?

Anna:  I really like the way you talk. To be honest, it was not very enjoyable to live in a cave. We were very bored. We had to stay inside to be safe from the shells flying overhead, so we played games like checkers and marbles. But James is a cheater, and so it is not very fun to play with him. Mrs. Franklin, our mean neighbor whom we lived with for a while, wanted us to do chores all day inside the cave. She would make up things for us to do. It was not easy.

Kate:  War is dreadful. What was your life like before the war? What do you do for fun?

Anna:  Before the war, my family lived all together in a house in Vicksburg, and we were very close. My pa read to us all the time, and my mom and our servants made delicious suppers. My older brother Michael helped me with my school work if I had any trouble. He is one of the smartest people I know. My youngest sister, Sara, who is only 6 played with her dolls a lot. My ma always wanted me to learn to be a proper lady, but I was much more interested in the books my pa was reading or writing my own stories.

Hallo:  For a long time, I was kind of a loner, don’t ya know. What’re your friends like?

Anna:  My friends are mostly at school. Once I came home, I had chores and played with my sister and brother. I didn’t have much free time. But I have a crush on one boy named Albert. I will tell you more about him later. I think Kate is more interested in boys than you are, Hallo.

Kate:  One of my favorite things about being part of the Deliverers and going on Assignments to different worlds is that I get to learn about how others live. What’s it like living in the 19^th century?

Anna:  I thought it was wonderful, but then I came here to talk to some other characters and saw these machines called computers. But, you want to know about the 19^th century. We lived in a nice brick house, but it was hot in the summer. In the winter, we had fires and wood stoves to keep us warm. We had a lot of chores to do just to live, although in town we did have a general store where we could go to get supplies. We travel around on a horse or in a wagon or buggy. Girls wear dresses all the time, and church is very important in our lives. My pa often reads to us from the Bible at night by a lantern. One thing kids always want to know is where did I go to the bathroom? I did not have a bathroom in my house or in the cave. We had to go in outhouses.

Hallo:  M’ Pappy an’ I didn’t get along so well for a while, but now we’re thick as thieves. What are your parents like?

Anna:  It’s hard for me to talk about my parents. I don’t really want to tell you why, but during the Siege, they are not able to take care of us. But before the war, they were wonderful, kind, and loving. My pa understood me better than my ma, but I know she loved me just the same.

Kate:  If you could travel anywhere in time, when and where would you go?

Anna:  Oh my gosh, I don’t know. I think I would travel to when I’m 16 (that’s just three years from now) because I want to know if Albert is going to marry me or not.  I also heard that the war ends in 1865, and so I want to leave the war behind.

Hallo:  We’re comin’ up on the holidays. M’ folk like t’ have a kinda wild time when it comes t’ celebratin’. How do your folk celebrate Christmas an’ such?

Anna:  We always have too much to eat, including a huge turkey that my brother Michael hunts for us. He loves to hunt. Sometimes, we would go to my grandparents’ plantation a few miles away from town, but it took a very long time to get there, since we had to ride in a wagon. Sometimes, they came to our house. We always go to church on Christmas Eve and thank God for giving us his son, Jesus. In the morning when we wake up, we each have a few presents to open, and we sing Christmas songs.

Kate:  Okay, so I’ve been dying to talk about this, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Eric and I have been on a few Assignments together now. I really like him, but sometimes he drives me crazy. I think we’re just friends, but there are times when I catch myself hoping it might be something more. He seems to be totally clueless about that sort of thing. How did you and Albert get together? How did you know that you liked each other?

Anna:  Kate, I have been waiting for you to tell me about Eric and to ask me about Albert. At first, I couldn’t even talk in front of him. It was like bees were buzzing in my stomach the entire time he was in the room. But then he helped me when my parents weren’t able to during the Siege. We spent more and more time together, and then one day, he kissed my hand, and I felt it all the way to my toes.

Hallo:  Well that’s interestin’ an’ everything, but can’t we talk about somethin’ else? Eric might just be readin’ this, don’t ya know. Do ya have any soldiers in your town and what’re they like?

Anna:  Hallo, unfortunately, the soldiers that bombed us for 47 days while we lived in caves are the ones that won the Siege. Our army had to surrender, and now we have Yankee soldiers in Vicksburg. Some of them are nice, but most of them take our food and belongings. We have all started to bury items we want to keep away from them. My brother Michael says things will go back to normal in a while when these soldiers become busy with other people and other cities. I hope he’s right. 

Kate:  Thanks Anna, it was great meeting you and finding out a little bit about yourself and life in the 1800's.

Hallo:  Yeah, it was real illuminatin', don't ya know, 'cept maybe that girl stuff 'bout who likes who, but I guess that can't be helped.

To find out more about Margo L. Dill and her books, visit her website.
You can also get a copy of Finding My Place on Amazon.