Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives -#NewSeries August 2020- Pot Luck – #Fear – The predator within by Sue Vincent

Sally Cronin kindly featured one of my posts on her new series of posts from the archives. Head on over to Smorgasbord to read the full post:

Welcome to the current series of Posts from Your Archives… and I will be picking two posts from the blogs of those participating from the first six months of 2020. If you don’t mind me rifling through your archives… just let me know in the comments or you can find out the full scope: Posts from Your Archives – Pot Luck – 2020

This is the first post from author Sue Vincent and is from The Silent Eye website, on the subject of an instinctive reaction in the body to the unknown or perceived danger.

Fear – The predator within by Sue Vincent

blood moon 010

“Don’t worry…” “It’s probably nothing…” “I’m probably just being daft but…” How often do we hear words like these, keeping a bright smile firmly glued to immobile faces as fear strides in and starts clawing at our entrails? We recognise fear at those moments, we know its name. It is uncompromising, blatant, uncaring of our fragile mask of polite pretence. We want to act, do something… yet nine times out of ten we are shackled by circumstance, powerless to do anything at all except sit and wait, hoping, praying that the fear is groundless.

There are the fears we call worry that stalk us, like feline predators, silent and sure footed, circling ever closer while we are frozen, eyes locked on those of the beast, waiting for attrition to render us helpless, prey to our own imaginings and anticipation.

Continue reading at Smorgasbord

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Wayland: White Horse… Stuart France

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But according to some, Wayland has far more onerous

responsibilities than shoeing the horses of passing way farers…

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A group of local lads were enjoying a drink

one evening at the White Horse Inn, Woolstone,

when an unknown man wearing old fashioned garb

entered and ordered a pint of the local beverage.

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He wore a leather apron, a tall hat,

and he took his drink and sat

to one side of the ale-house by himself…

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Continue reading at France & Vincent

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History ~ Jane Dougherty #writephoto

For Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt. This would have fitted in nicely with my last WIP but one. Thanks Sue. Atmospheric photo.

They used to meet at Weatherall’s where there was no one to bother, his wife being dead and his children grown and moved on. It was a corner house, neighbour on one side, an old lass whose wits had flown away years. They weren’t all union men; many of them didn’t dare. If Taylor or Holdsworth or Sheard had known about it they’d have been given their cards straight away. But they still gathered round on a Sunday evening to listen to George Hewitt explaining where they all fitted into the gaffers’ scheme of things. He wouldn’t stand for them bringing the minister into it either. He scoffed.

Continue reading at Jane Dougherty Writes

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Worn ~ Lady Lee Manila #writephoto

Miles and miles of being away
My tormented heart gone astray
Unforseen battles on their way
Still I smile when I’m at play
The worn steps welcoming me
I’m at home and I’m full of glee

Continue reading at Lady Lee Manila

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Web #midnighthaiku

Chamber of horrors

Awaiting the unwary

Fear its own captor

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Guest Author: Susanne Leist ~ Why am I an author? (and news of a new release!)

Why am I an author?

The answer lies with my brother, Neil Leist.

Neil was a person who lit up a room when he entered. He was 6 feet 2 inches, but it wasn’t his height that drew peoples’ eyes. It was his dynamic personality. Those grey eyes mirrored his brilliant intellect and capacity for greatness. Neil took care of my blind mother until I was old enough to help. He helped raise me when my father wasn’t home but working interminable days and nights driving a taxi.

Flourishing in the business world, Neil traded on the Commodity Exchange until he earned enough money to own a majority stake in a Fortune 500 company. He became the CEO and Chairman of the Board of Directors of American Bakeries. Neil took me along on his ride to stardom as I worked for him on the Commodities Exchange and in his offices on Madison Avenue, New York. I majored in Finance at New York University, preparing to join him. For the first time, life was good.

In the middle of the night, a phone call turned my world dark. Dark as the one in which my mother lived. My brother had been in a car accident in the Hamptons. His red Porsche had hydroplaned on the wet roads. Neil was a skilled driver with quick reflexes; he drove the car off the highway and onto the grass. Luck wasn’t with him that night. The Porsche crashed beneath a truck parked in its path. His brain injury left him in a coma, and he died two years later.

I continued my education and received an M.B.A. in Finance, but high finance lost its appeal. I worked at various investment companies, but I didn’t want to trade or analyze stocks and commodities. My brother and my parents had passed. My daughters were beginning their own lives. Without a focus in my life, I began to write. As an avid reader, I had many stories racing through my mind.

In my first book, The Dead Game, I combine mystery and paranormal. Two guests disappear from a party at a deserted house, leaving the others to fend for their lives from wild animals and traps. Since I end the book with a cliffhanger, I had to write the second book in the series, Prey for The Dead. The residents of the coastal town of Oasis in northern Florida face vampires and hybrids once again. This time, the action takes them to Disney World, where vampires hide at an exclusive club. Yes, I based my story on an actual club at Disney created by Walt Disney. Next week, I will release the third book in the series, The Dead At Heart. Is the series finished? I don’t know yet. I now live my life as a big question mark: no periods or final thoughts, only possibilities.

My life has taken unexpected twists and turns. Memories of my brother follow me across every speed bump. I don’t have him any longer, but I have Neil stored in a special place in my heart. He’s given me the strength and the drive to pursue my dreams. After what he’s accomplished in his brief life, I yearn to create a fraction of the positive memories he’s left for me and those whose lives he has touched.


About the Author

I have always loved to read. Agatha Christie, Alistair Maclean, Robert Ludlum, and many other authors filled my young imagination with intrigue and mystery. When I wasn’t reading late into the night, the TV shows–Murder She Wrote and Columbo–entertained me with tales of murder and suspense.

Over the years, my taste in TV expanded to include such shows as Supernatural and The Originals. I searched for paranormal, murder mysteries but found few at the library or bookstore. So, I wrote, bringing fantasy and the surreal to the classic murder mystery with dead bodies, suspects, and clues. It offers vampires, vampire derivatives, and a touch of romance to spice the motley mix.


Find and Follow Susanne

Website   Blog    Amazon Author page    Goodreads    Twitter    Facebook


Books by Susanne Leist

THE DEAD GAME

Linda Bennett moves from New York to Florida to live a quieter life. Life is peaceful until the dead body washes up onshore. Linda learns that dead bodies and disappearing tourists are typical for the coastal town.

Linda and her friends receive an invitation to a party at End House, a deserted house overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The group arrives, but no one is there to greet them. The house has a sinister life of its own where horror follows their every step. Traps, illusions, and revolving rooms add to their growing fear. Wild animals escape their cages in the basement, a bloody skeleton sleeps in an upstairs’ bedroom, and body parts fall from the chimney into the living room’s fireplace. The young residents flee for their lives.

They embark on a difficult journey, not knowing whom to trust, to uncover the one controlling the evil game. Who are The Dead? Are they humans or vampires? Will Linda lose her heart to Todd, who knows more than he admits? Will her best friend, Shana, fall in love with Sheriff Sam? The Dead Game has begun.

Purchase links:  Amazon   Nook    Rakuten


PREY FOR THE DEAD

Linda Bennett’s dreams of happiness have always eluded her. Five years ago, she moved to Florida from New York to escape heartache. The Dead, an evil group of vampires, had ruined any hope of peace for her and her friends. Surrounded by vampires and human vampires, Linda finds solace in her bookstore, learning to live among vamps and hybrids. Then one morning, Oasis goes dark, and an explosion rocks her shop and any future dreams for a happy ending.

Linda and her friends race to where lightning converges on a sinkhole in an isolated spot behind the town. As vampires and hybrids try to save the vampire hunter and vamp trapped beneath Oasis, a witch’s spell throws the residents back in time.

When evidence emerges of The Dead’s return to Oasis, Linda and her best friend, Shana, join vamps and hybrids on their search for The Dead. At an exclusive club in Disney World, they pose as the trophy wives of the hybrids, Todd and Sheriff Sam. Death and mayhem follow their every step. A romp through the tunnels beneath Oasis leads to a showdown in the swamps of Florida.

Can Oasis survive the battle between good and evil? Will Linda find her happy ending?

Purchase linksAmazon    Nook 


Launching a book?

If you are a writer, artist or photographer…If you have a poem, story or memoirs to share… If you have a book to promote, a character to introduce, an exhibition or event to publicise… If you have advice for writers, artists or bloggers…

If you would like to be my guest, please read the guidelines and get in touch!

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Steps ~ Hayley R. Hardman #writephoto

My granny use to say, ‘if these steps could talk what stories they’d tell!’

I’d laugh and say ‘tell me a story then.’

She would whilst we sat on those steps outside her house with the summer sun on our faces and people waving as they went by.

Granny would spin truth and fiction together, making her simple life exciting for my childhood self. There’d be stories of her dancing the night away with my granddad, long days working in the cotton factory down the road and her adventures as a nanny in London.

Continue reading at The Story Files

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Callanish Calling: ‘Off Road Inn’…

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“All things considered… It’s not such a bad view for a beer garden.”

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“Yet there’s nobody else here!”

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“And those that are here, are inside, rather than at the Inn side.”

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“If this were England…”

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“I know. It’s what might be termed an ‘Off Road Inn!”

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Continue reading at France and Vincent

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Worn ~ Kim Blades #writephoto

Haggard with tiredness and pain

slow and stooping in his gait

the old vagrant moves on

 

Continue reading at Kim Blades

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An Unseen Presence ~ Stuart France

File:Jacob and the Angel, by Gustave Moreau, detail, 1874-1878 ...

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There are other sections in the Book of Genesis

which may be pertinent to our survey of St Michael…

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… ‘Left alone at night, Jacob was attacked by an unseen presence

which wrestled with him until day-break, whereupon his adversary cried,

“Desist, for the dawn is here!”

“Are you then a bandit, that you fear the dawn?” asked Jacob.

“At this time, we angels must sing dawn’s praises!”

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

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