My Newest Novel, The Joining
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Madness,
Mexico and Motherhood
My mother was quite the
character. The last thing she said to us, before we lost her on our holidays in
Mexico was: Madness, they say, merely depends on which end of the knife blade
you’re staring at and who’s holding the gun to your head.
Why Mexico? Usually on holidays we'd go camping.
Our family loved camping. We were getting ready for bed when mom sat
up in the tent and said, "What is that God-awful smell? Has some wild
animal crawled into our tent and died? No! It's these." She picked up my
runners, pinching her nose shut, and tossed them outside. "You need to
take a shower and these need to be put into the campfire before you attract
wild animals from miles around, like bears. They can smell a dead animal
carcass from across the valley." The last thing she said before I fell
asleep.
A rustling noise awoke
me and I peeked bravely out of the tent, armed with my water pistol, only to
watch a weasel devouring my shoe with the same relish he'd give to wolfing down
chocolate dessert. Although their idea of chocolate dessert is probably slugs
rolled in slimy mud and sprinkled with maggots.
Yes, back to Mexico. My parents went there for something called the
Festival of the Dead. Everyone would
dress up as Zombies and pretend to be one. But I discovered three things about
how to tell a real Zombie from a pretend zombie.
For one thing, real zombies can't drink. They shake
so bad that by the time they raise the glass to their lips, they'd either
crushed the glass or spill it all over themselves.
Two. Don't waste your best jokes on zombies,
the real ones don't get it. They just stand there and look at you stupidly. Humor,
I've discovered, is way beyond them.
Three. But yo-yos are
another matter. Keeps them entertained for hours on end. They just stand there
watching the yo-yo going up and down, up and down, up and down and believe it
or not, up and down. Don't think they get past the string and realize there's
someone at the end controlling it.
So survival tip #101
when walking through parts of town that are quite dodgy; if attacked by a gang
of thug zombies, or anyone resembling characters from Shaun Of The Dead, whip out
your yo-yo, give it to the one with spasmodic seizures and run like hell.
My sister mentioned the time mom helped her out on her
wedding night.
You see my sister was very nervous, a virgin. They were
having their wedding night in our parent's basement suite.
My mom assured her that if she needed help of any kind to
just knock on her door and she'd assist her. "Thanks mom, you're a great
pal."
So later that night her new husband begins to take off his
shirt. Shocked she sees that he's got a hairy chest.
"Oh, ah, just give me a moment. A little nervous you
might understand."
She ran upstairs and pounded on mom's door. "Mom! Mom!
He's got a hairy chest."
"It's okay dear. Most men have hairy chests. Just run
your fingers through it, he'll like that."
"Thanks mom, you're a great pal."
She went back to the room and by this time he was taking
off his pants. She gasped at the sight of his hairy legs. "Oh, ah, just
give me a moment, be right back. Never seen a man naked."
She ran upstairs. "Mom!
Mom! He's got hairy legs."
"It's okay dear, most men have hairy legs. They never
shave them."
"Oh, thanks mom, you're a great pal."
Back in the room he'd begun to take off his socks. She was
startled at the sight of part of his foot cut off from a work related injury.
"Oh wow! Just hang on, I'll be right back."
She ran upstairs again. "Mom! Mom! He's got a foot and
a half."
"Okay dear! You better stay here, this is a job for
your mother."
Yeah, that was mom, always willing to lend us a hand.
I'll always remember mom either cooking or ironing. She'd
have music blaring away, some loud, raucous music, like Def Leppard or Bon Jovi,
singing at the top of her voice, 'Someday I'll be Saturday Night.' She was
usually wearing her tee shirt, tied in a bow around her mid-section, emblazoned
with crazy slogans, like 'The One Playboy Missed'. And she'd never wear a bra.
Even after she'd gone from 38DD to 42 long.
All we knew for sure is that she'd
taken up jogging the day before she disappeared and we haven't seen her since.
The Ainsworth Chronicles Book One: The Joining
The Joining Back
Cover BLURB: Undercover
at Victoria’s Empress Hotel, police detective Carol Ainsworth has to deal with
two American Mafia cartels coming in for a wedding. Easy-peasy, everyone has a
lovely cup of tea, says their ‘I Do's’ and goes away happy. Or so it seems
until young boys start disappearing, a crazy old psychic woman shows up bearing
a crystal skull and one of the mobsters is found hanged in his room by what
appears to be a ghost. Carol quickly discovers that Victoria has several
satanic cults, more resident ghosts than all of Canada and something is
rattling their chains.
Toss in a hunky FBI agent, a hunkier
Italian mobster, both of which want to investigate more of Carol than she is
willing to reveal and you’ve one threesome that is going to raise some hell.
Literally.
Speaking of unwanted hellions being invited
to town, and I’m not talking the red-headed whip-wielding dominatrix that shows
up, there is one guest that generates more heat than a habanero-infused curry.
Come visit Victoria. No longer the staid,
stiff-upper-lip, more-English-than-the-English town of fish and chips. Stick
around while the tea is hot, the ghosts are walking and - did I mention? - the
scones are pretty darn good as well.
Review Snippets
The ghosts of Victoria, BC are restless. The Joining is a riveting read for crime fiction lovers and those fascinated by tales of hauntings. Talaber expertly draws you into a multi-leveled world of local history, crime, and the supernatural , where a blue fairy , comprised of two sorrowful creatures, is more powerful than it knows. A perfect read for those foggy west coast nights.
Melanie
Cossey,
A
Peculiar Curiosity
I've read and
reread his previous series, Stillwaters Run Deep, several times. Frank's
writing is original and compelling. You run into characters and situations
totally unexpected. Keeps you on the edge of your seat and your heart.
Greta Olsson
Your book kept my
attention riveted from beginning to end. I
liked the way you presented the female character being in control
of the outcome and the fact the story was based on local settings. i.e. Victoria, B.C. Canada Riveting
Work .....
Linda Low
Frank Talaber
My webpage
http://twosoulmates.wixsite.com/frankt-author-blog
Frank Talaber’s
Writing Style? He usually responds with: Mix Dan Millman (Way of The Peaceful
Warrior) with Charles De Lint (Moonheart) and throw in a mad scattering of Tom
Robbins (Even Cowgirls Get The Blues).
PS: He’s better looking than Stephen King (Carrie, The Stand, It, The Shining) and his romantic stuff will have you gasping quicker than Robert James Waller (Bridges Of Madison County).
PS: He’s better looking than Stephen King (Carrie, The Stand, It, The Shining) and his romantic stuff will have you gasping quicker than Robert James Waller (Bridges Of Madison County).
Or as is often
said: You don’t have to be mad to be a writer, but it sure helps.
https://www.facebook.com/FrankTalaber/
https://www.facebook.com/franktalaberpublishedauthor/
(My facebook short story page)
http://bwlpublishing.ca/authors/talaber-frank-suspense-urban-fantasy-canada/
Twitter: @FrankTalaber
Stillwaters Run Deep Book One: Raven's Lament
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