Here you can follow the blow-by-blow account of my attempt to transform myself into a (regularly) published author.

Like the Anastasia Raven Fan Page!
And sign up to receive the Books Leaving Footprints Newsletter. Comes out occasionally. No spam. No list swapping. Just email me! Previous gifts include a short story, a poem, and coupons. Add your name, and don't miss out!

Monday, November 9, 2015

Chapter 20 - Dead Mule Swamp Druggist

Dead Mule Swamp Druggist

It's been way too long since I've been posting here. However, I'm still writing. Trying to keep a lot of balls in the air. That said, I just finished Chapter 20 of the next Anastasia Raven book, called Dead Mule Swamp Druggist. It is the longest and most complex book of the series.

Here's an excerpt from Chapter 20

   The woods, and the clearing surrounding Ham's trailer, didn't seem menacing at all in the daylight, just depressing. The trailer was old and wasn't quite level. The factory paint job was faded and scratched. Of course, no one had cleared any of the junk from the yard. The front door wasn't latched and it repeatedly opened a few inches and then closed again, as a light wind moved through the clearing. Every time the door hit the jamb I heard a soft thud. I was amazed that someone could live in such a dump. Yet, I'd never heard that Ham was a complainer. Maybe he just liked his privacy and didn't care about other amenities. I recalled that Adele had said he tried to keep the location of the place a secret. Now, I wondered what secrets he might have had that were worth hiding. Did he have secrets so big they got him killed?
   The small deck on the front was the newest thing on the property. It was solidly built of treated lumber and seemed completely out of character with everything else. I mounted the steps and opened the door. The first thing I noticed was the smell. Mold and decay. Decaying flesh. The second shock, as I stepped from the deck to the inside, was that the flooring was soft. Probably water damaged from rain coming in the open door. I wondered if I'd break through. It was a good thing the floor was only about three feet above the ground, but who knew what was underneath the trailer?
   With a quick look around the cramped interior, I located the origin of the foul smell. A dead raccoon was liquefying in the back bedroom. There was no apparent reason it had died there. As much as I didn't want to get anywhere near it, I was determined to search the trailer, so I returned to the yard and found a shovel with a badly weathered handle. I held my breath as I entered the bedroom, scooped up the body and headed for the woods. Giving a ninja yell to boost my strength and buck up my courage, I flung the remains as far into the brush as I was able. "That should help," I told myself. Out loud. Then I pulled a sliver from the palm of my hand.

You can find the first four Anastasia Raven Stories at Smashwords or Amazon