Book Review: Phantom Thief AKA Simon Lee

    If I could say one word. One word to sum up my feelings about what transpired in this crazy book. That word would be . . .

   Wow.

   I'm going to be honest. This one threw me for a loop. It was exciting, frustrating, befuddling, and very, very good at making me feel inferior. (AKA . . . Simon Lee has all the technological smarts that I do not!) Which specific book am I talking about? 

Sensitive content: some mild language such as "moron," "heck," and "idiot;" some intense scenes, some violence

Age recommendation: 13+

My rating: 4 stars

   I'd heard a lot about this one from writer friends of mine, so I was pretty excited when we got it for free. I proceeded to read about halfway through before having to put it down (the horrors!). I made sure to pick it up as soon as conveniently possible, however, and I finished it last night. And did it ever finish! That was definitely a surprise ending. I've no clue how I was oblivious to the hints sprinkled throughout the storyline, but I never saw that coming! How . . . ?? 

   It's smart, witty, exciting, and rather strange at times (but then, I gave up trying to understand the main character some time ago). But it did not fail my expectations for a wild ride through Lee's escapades, spur-of-the-moment-yet-somehow-planned-at-the-same-time encounters with *ahem* certain detestable characters, and quick wit. 

Signed,

Martha

Inspiration Instigation: How Many Miles

 This was instigated by Abby's prompt. Thanks, Abby!

                        

   My heart fell to my stomach as the pickup truck bounced its way up the path. "This is a lousy driveway," I complained under my breath. "Why'd we have to move out into the middle of nowhere, anyway?" Casting a disgusting glance at a "no trespassing" sign on a tree, I caught sight of Mom's face in the rearview mirror. She'd heard my comment, and judging by her downcast eyes and set jaw, she wasn't too pleased by it, either. I flushed and began fiddling with my seat belt. I hadn't meant to say that; it just slipped out.

   To my chagrin, my little sister took up the cry next to me. "Yeah, why are we moving?" she echoed, her lower lip forming a pout. "I like our old house better. I don't want to live in a tiny little house out here."

   I wanted to shake myself for having let Mimi overhear my griping. She would repeat anything I said. You shouldn't have been complaining in the first place. I brushed the mental accusation aside and huffed out a disgruntled sigh. We'd been just fine in the city. At least I was able to see my friends every week. Living out here, I'd be lucky to even go to a friend's birthday party. I wanted so badly to ask Dad to turn the truck around and return the property to the landlord. But I didn't do it. That might make Mimi say something ridiculous, and then I'd be in more trouble. 

   A unexpected lurch tossed me forward. I gasped and pressed my feet into the floor of the vehicle. "Who on earth made this driveway?" I exclaimed as the truck jumped over a ditch in the gravel. "Whoever did obviously wasn't a professional."

   "Yeah!" Mimi whined, crossing her arms. "Whoever made this was-"

   "Oh hush, Mimi!" I scolded, seeing Mom's expression. I could tell Mimi's words were hurting Mom's feelings. "Can't you be more considerate?"

   "Lydia."

   I looked at Dad through the rearview mirror. His jaw was tight, and his eyes held a mixture of disappointment, sorrow, and frustration I somehow had missed before. 

   "I'm going to need to speak with you privately as soon as we arrive."

   I nodded. "Okay." He probably was going to ask me to help my little sister stop saying rude things. She's had that habit for a while, and no amount of my rebukes can change anything.

   After another five minutes of being jostled, bumped, and rattled, I leaned forward and asked, "How long is it until we get there?"

   "Just a bit more."

   I shrugged and fell back against the seat. How many more miles would it take to find the little house? Hopefully before I get a headache from this crazy driveway. 

   Another blessed ten minutes later, the rocky path gave way to pavement. I craned my neck, eager to catch the first glimpse of what was to be our new home. 

   As we reached the end of the drive, a surprisingly trim blue house came into view. It was at least two stories high, I judged, and probably had at least four bedrooms. The eaves drooped in a graceful sweep toward the middle of the house, where they joined just above a roomy balcony. A decorative pathway trailed from the driveway up to the cream-colored front door. 

   I slapped a hand to my mouth to stifle a squeal of delight. It looked like this house had a wraparound porch! Not only that, but judging by the small circular window up at the peak of the roof, it had a rather large attic, too. 

   By the time the truck drew to a stop in front of it, I could hardly breathe. This was the "tiny backwoods house" we were going to live in?

   "Alright, we're here," Dad announced brightly, turning the key in the ignition. "Let's go look at it, honey." He briefly squeezed Mom's hand before opening the door.

   I punched the seatbelt buckle and nearly tumbled out of the truck onto the pavement in my excitement. I couldn't wait to see my new bedroom. Maybe living out in the boondocks won't be so bad, after all! 

   "Lyddie, help me!" 

   I swung around and planted my hands on my hips impatiently. "What now?"

   "I . . . can't . . . unbuckle it!" Mimi grunted, tugging at the seat belt.

   I rolled my eyes and climbed back in. After I'd freed Mimi, I pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "Don't say anything like what you said earlier ever again! You know Mom doesn't like complaining. You hurt her feelings!"

   Mimi's mouth dropped open. "But you-"

   "No," I interrupted. "No excuses. And make sure you tell her 'sorry' later, alright?"

   Mimi shoved me away and flounced out of the truck. "You're not so perfect, either, Lydia!"

   I gritted my teeth. Mimi gets under my skin more than anyone else in the whole world. I flung myself back out of the truck and slammed the door.

   "Lydia Genevieve."

   I turned to Dad, who had just helped Mom out of the vehicle. "Yeah, Dad?"

   "I need to talk with you." He crooked a finger at me and moved out of Mom and Mimi's earshot. 

   "Now? I thought we were going to explore the house."

   Dad shook his head. "Now." His voice was unusually low and steady . . . a sure sign that a scolding was in order.

   I scurried over nervously. "Yes, sir?"

   He surveyed me silently for a moment before starting in. "Lydia, what is wrong with you today? You wouldn't stop complaining all the way here, and when your sister tried to copy it, you shut her down as if you weren't the example she was following."

   I wrinkled my eyebrows. "What?"

   Dad placed his large, callused hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. "Lyddie, you may not know it, but very nearly everything Mimi says and does comes from you. When you complained about living in the woods, so did she. When you grumbled about the driveway, she followed suit. Do you know why? Because you're the big sister. She follows your example. And for some reason, the example you've been giving lately has not been what it should be. And I know it's not just because of our new fifteen-minute driveway. How many miles are you going to make us go before you realize we're here, too?"

   I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning with shame. I had no excuse to give for that. I'd been selfish and dissatisfied for the last week, and I knew it. I knew my attitude was wrong. But I didn't care, because I didn't like moving, and I wanted to let everyone know it. 

   "I don't believe you realize it, but you are making everyone in the family miserable. Mimi can't copy you without saying something she shouldn't, and your mother is not taking this very well. It's hard enough for her as it is." 

   Something in his tone made me glance up, confused. "What is hard enough as it is? Moving?"

   Dad tightened his grip ever so slightly. "No. We are moving because of her sickness."   

   "Wait, what?" I blurted out. "She's sick?"

   "Shhh," Dad warned, glancing in his wife's direction and then back at me. "I wasn't meaning to tell you this yet, but . . ." He sighed heavily. "Your mother has some form of cancer, and her headaches have been growing more severe and more frequent. Living in the middle of the city . . . not to mention right next to the train tracks . . . has not been helping. The doctor said that if we could possibly live somewhere quieter, we should."

   I felt as though my lungs were the size of a speck of dust. Mom had cancer and I didn't even know it?

   "Besides that, I've been wanting to move our family out into the country for years. I've never been fond of cramped, noisy cities, and neither has your mother. But we stayed there for a while because of my job. We never really found a legitimate reason to pack up everything and move . . . until now." Dad paused and released my shoulders. All of a sudden, he looked extremely tired. "These last few weeks have been hard. Your mother having to pack up the house, say goodbye to old friends, leave everything we've known for the past twenty years . . . all the while having to deal with the new revelation that she has been diagnosed with the disease that killed her father, your Grandpa Edwards. You remember him?"

   I nodded, blinking back tears. I was only five when Grandpa "went to go sing songs with all the angels," as Mom had put it. Mimi never knew him.

   "Your mother needs you, sweetheart. We all do," my father continued. "But you seem bound and determined to make more work for us. Why?"

   I gulped back the lump that threatened to suffocate me. Why, indeed? Because I didn't want to live in the woods? Because I would miss my friends? No, that wasn't the reason, and I knew it. As much as it hurt, I let the truth slip out of my heart and tumble brokenly out my lips. "It's because I didn't care if I was hurting everyone else just so I could have everything the way I wanted it to be." I bit my lip so hard I felt pain. But the ache was nothing compared to the guilt that lay trapped up inside me. "I'm sorry, Dad." I allowed a stray tear to slide down my cheek. "I didn't know. I didn't know."

   "That's why I told you." Dad gently pulled me into a hug. He rested his chin on the top of my head. "But the biggest decision you need to make is: now that you know about it, what are you going to do?"

   This I did know. I pulled away, wrenched a sleeve across my eyes, and took a deep breath. "The first thing I'm going to do is have a talk with God. That's long overdue. And after that, I'm going to set about to fix things up . . . not just in my own little world, but in the real world, too. And I'm going to start off by telling you two things: first, I'm really sorry for my selfishness." 

   Dad nodded proudly. "I forgive you, Lyddie. What's the other thing?"

   I paused and waved my hand toward the house. "I love the house. It's amazing. And . . ." I grinned. "I just realized that the long driveway will be perfect for my daily run."

*This story is mine and protected by copyright*

Signed,

Martha

Book Review: Firmament #1: Radialloy

   This book was . . . interesting. I guess I didn't really know what to expect when I opened to the first chapter. Okay, I expected a sort of nerdy, cliché space western or something. 

 

   Ha. Ha. Ha.

   I'm going to be honest . . . while I greatly enjoy many books, very few actually instill an edge-of-your-seat excitement in me. I can wiggle in my seat in anticipation; I can hold my breath and begin reading faster to see what will happen; but rarely do I genuinely feel any form of anxiety during a book scene. 

   Well! There's a first time for everything, right?? I won't deny it . . . this book had more than one scene in which I started scooting forward in my chair, my eyes widened, and I actually felt my heart rate increase. I will just tell you that this book has more than its share of intense scenes, chases, captures, deceptions, and science-y stuff I loved but did not really understand. Like the scene when Commander _____ tells her he's ____ _______ and then turns around and . . . . ! Okay, I can't say anything else, or I'll spill the entire plot! 

   I'll just say this: if you enjoy a good sci-fi, a creative plot with twists and turns, and a book that has a feeling similar to that of Star Trek (space exploration), then go read this book!!

Sensitive content: use of the word "fool," some violence

Age recommendation: 12+

My rating: 5 stars  

   Okay, I need to note here that I personally rate it as 5 star. I found it well-written, engaging, creative, and very unexpected. However, due to some psychological content and other aspects, I would say this may not be for absolutely everyone. For instance, those who dislike confusing, technological things may not like it too much. But for those who don't mind a bit of space tech and a science-y mindset (again, like Star Trek), this book is pretty good! (I'm not by any means a "tech-y" person, but I thought it was very interesting.)

   Anther thing . . . there is a definite Christian overview to it. The MC (main character) is a Christian herself, and there is a brief motion toward the gospel and what it means to be saved. I appreciated that. And since I'm on this topic, I may as well note that, as I previously mentioned, the word "fool" is used a few times in the book; the MC uses it to describe her own lack of inattention a few times and the bad guy (not saying who!!!) uses it because . . . well, because he's a bad guy!

   Yeah, anyway . . . there's not much more I can say without having to zip my lips shut in an attempt to not exclaim about that intense scene where she ____ed the guy who turned out to be her _______! I did not see that coming!

Signed,

Martha

P.S. Can we just take a moment to appreciate the cover?? Thank you.

Goals for 2021

    Okay, I know this is a little late (alright, so it's two weeks late), but I'm going to list out my main literary goals for this year of 2021. I hadn't planned to do so, but I realized I had unconsciously given myself some anyhow. I don't even know if I'm going to be able to keep track of all I read, so I'll have to see if this even works! Also, I'm going to be vague and easy on myself. ;) So here goes. 

   -Publish my first book

   -Read at least 12 books I've never read before

   -Read at least 30 books (in general)

   -Participate in one bookish blog event (be one of the bloggers or just the a visitor, either way)

   -Keep fairly consistent with my blogging

   -Post a least one book review each month

And that's all for now. I'll have to see how I do!

Signed,

Martha

   

Inspiration Instigation: Fireman Fiasco

    This flash fiction was inspired by Katja's prompt. Thanks, Katja! Enjoy!

   Thick, searing smoke fills my lungs and causes tears to well up in my blue eyes. How on earth did I get myself into this situation? Letting out a strangled gasp, I leap away from the scorched, charcoaled mass of what was once my dinner and yank open the nearest window. The only edible part of the casserole is the very middle, it looks like. My eyes water afresh, this time not as a result of the acrid fumes. All that work for nothing!

   Cooking has never been my forte. I'm more of a draw-beautiful-pictures-on-the-sidewalk-with-my-nephew person. One who gets absorbed in her artistry and doesn't come up for air until her stomach begins eating her alive. But that doesn't do me much good. You can't eat chalk . . . it's not recommended, anyway. And it doesn't taste remotely appetizing. Trust me, I've tried it.

   As I stare helplessly at my newest culinary flop, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach and I glance at the time. 7 o'clock. No time to redo the casserole. And no way of salvaging my pathetic attempt at a delicious but healthful dinner.

   Supper of chalk paste spread on cement-bread for sure.

   Grumbling under my breath, I snatch up a nearby hot pad and scoop the pan out of the oven. For a brief moment of intense frustration, I waver between scraping the food into the garbage can like a normal person or pitching the entire thing out the window, pan and all. But the mental image of my mom stops me.

   Hesitating a moment to rationally evaluate a situation just may save you a lot of future regret.

   I squeak out a weary laugh and force myself to begin calmly scraping the blackened mass into the trash. Good ol' Mum. She was always getting after me for being so impulsive and reckless. I had a real issue with not stopping to think about the consequences until right as soon as they held me at gunpoint.

   "Thanks, Mum. I needed that," I murmur under my breath, smiling. A section of my heart constricts painfully in my chest at the thought of her. Oh, how I miss her. What would she say if she could see me now? She probably would be throwing back her head and laughing her unique, infectious laugh. I can almost hear her.

   My goodness, child, over a casserole? I've burnt worse than that before, and you know it. 

   Do I know it?! She hadn't been much better at cooking than I am now, but she tried so hard. And she was rewarded. The delectable chicken wings I'd eaten for my last birthday were more superb than QFC, for sure. That was a month before she passed on.

   "Well, Mum," I say, getting a better grip on both my emotions and the heavy casserole pan, "I'll try. At least so that I won't starve." I set the dish down on the counter next to the kitchen window and lean my elbows on the edge, deep in thought. A refreshing breeze filters through the mesh screen, sending my loose hairs into a wild dance around my head. What am I to do now?

   My brain has less than two seconds to consider this before a shockingly cold deluge of water sprays me square in the face. For the second time in a few minutes, I gasp and give a violent shake of my head. What on earth?

   I wipe away the water from my eyes and thrust myself forward. Standing on my tiptoes, I can just make out the shape of a little boy hanging onto something and staring in the window. I takes me a moment to realize the thing he's clutching is my garden hose.

   "Brandon Wilson Meyers!" I race through the kitchen and out the back door. The sight of my nephew standing on my ten-foot step ladder knocks the breath out of my lungs, and I have to take twenty seconds before scolding him. "What in the world are you doing? I told you to play in the sprinkler, not give my entire kitchen a dunking."

   "Look, Auntie, I'm doing like a fireman."

   The anger I felt slowly leaks out of me. But it is replaced with confusion and shame at having forgotten to take down the ladder in the first place. I keep my voice calm and controlled. "Yes, dear, but you're hardly a fireman yet, so get down."

   Brandon nods submissively and begins the ascent, clutching the hose nozzle in one hand.

   I hurry over to give him a helping hand. "Why did you spray me? And you know you are not allowed on any ladders unless I am right beside you."

   "I'm sorry, Auntie," the seven-year-old says, immediately contrite. "I saw a bunch of smoke coming out the window. I was sticking the fire out. And you looked real mad, like you wanted to throw something through the window at me."

   A smile twitches my lips. "It's putting it out, Brandon. And it was the casserole I was mad at." I bite my lower lip. "Sorry, kiddo, I wrecked our dinner."

   Brandon flashes his winning grin, revealed a gap in his front teeth. "That's okay. I wasn't s'posed to tell you this, cause it's a surprise, but Mommy is bringing some food over for you when she comes to get me. I think it's going to be extras from Mommy and Daddy's date." He looks around quickly and then drops his tone to a confidential whisper. "Don't tell. It's a secret."

   Laughter bubbles up. It appears I won't have to starve after all. "It's safe with me. Just so long as you don't let on to your mother that I felt like chucking her wedding gift to me out the window."

   The little boy giggles and thrusts out a small hand. "Deal."

*This story is mine and protected by copyright*

Signed,

Martha

Inspiration Instigation

       Okay, in case you haven't noticed, I'm feeling a bit of a lag in my blogging inspiration. So, if you would, please help me out. I want to try out something I've never done before. I would love for you to comment below and give me a brief story prompt! And then, when I find time, I'll write a quickie flash fiction based off of your suggestions and post it on here. If I get enough ideas, I can make the random flash fiction a regular thing, and I'll include not only your prompts but also stories I randomly write on here. I'll call it "Inspiration Instigation." Can't wait to see your prompts!

   Here's a few pretty pictures I took of a sunset a few days ago. The photo doesn't do full justice to what it really looked like, mind you. It was a blazing, brilliant pink with soft hues of purple and blue.

Signed,

Martha

(I'm going to take a break from my picture signatures . . . I'm situating and re-situating them.)

Happy New Year!

    A-a-and my blog vacation's over! I want to wish you all a very Happy New Year! I have a few announcements and random notes.

   First off, if you didn't notice it already, I've got a few new pages up there just below the header. Just pointing it out. ;)

    Secondly, I am going to attempt to put up more snippets and the like from my stories this coming year. I can't promise anything, but I mi-i-i-ight even publish my first book in 2021! Obviously, my little flickering hope to finish and publish Millie's Miracle by this last Christmas got extinguished, but now I'm onto a goal to get it done by next Christmas. Plenty of time, so if I still don't get it done next year, any excuses I might give will be pitifully irrelevant. And you can hold me to this if you want. ;)

   Third, I want to point out a new work-in-progress! Yes, I know; I shouldn't keep abandoning my "old" works for any new idea that pops into my brain. But just to let you know, that's precisely what I do. Not the abandoning part, though . . . I mean, I still have my other stories around. They're just, uh, in storage. Now that I've pled my defense, I will move onto the story! It's called Just Another Autumn. I'm really enjoying this story. It's fun, just a bit dramatic, has Christian values, and maybe has a good dash of sarcasm-seasoning thrown in. ;) I kind of write the type of stuff I like to read, so this is very fun. Though I must admit that I'm not very kind to my characters. Why? Oh, because it's so much more enjoyable to throw them headlong into a dramatic and/or distressing situation so that they will have a chance to grow/learn/maybe-have-a-life-changing-experience. This time, in this story, it has to do with a concussion and a chance meeting. I'm not going to give away any more (yet). Go on over to my works-in-progress page to see the collage I made for it!

   And one more little note. I put up a few more things on my "Behind the Blogger" page. :)

   Happy New Year and God Bless!