Black Holiday

Ah, Thanksgiving!  A day to relax or cook but either way, end the day enjoying your family.  It is a uniquely American holiday copied by the Canadians.  Then the sales started.  They were subtle when I was growing up.  There would be ads and sales.  There wasn’t much hype.  Then came Black Friday.  Suddenly every retailer was trying to outdo their competition.  There was nothing subtle about it.  We were bombarded with ads in the paper and on TV.  Soon the whole weekend was engulfed in the frenzy.  Enter the internet.  Shopping on line had grown as a percentage of sales every year.  Why?  Instead of running from store to store where something may be in stock and searching for it, you can sit in your pajamas and do your shopping with free shipping.  That meant there had to be a day for this.  Enter Cyber Monday.  Some companies have extended their sale to Tuesday in case you were busy.   Then the war started over who would open first for Black Friday.  It started in the morning around 5 or 6.  Then it moved back to midnight.  Finally Thanksgiving was desecrated.  Kmart was open all day.  Walmart and a host of others start their sale around 6 pm.  It was shameful.  People couldn’t have one day to spend with their families.  But there is a glimmer of morality in this money crazed holiday.  Some stores refused to open on Thanksgiving,; instead they cared enough about their employees to let them have the intended day of rest and time with their families.  One would hope that it would spur others to follow suit but I believe these other stores will stay open until sales dip to an unprofitable level.  So if you get drawn in by sales on Thanksgiving, DON”T GO.  There will still be fantastic deals the next day.  Let’s try to restore Thanksgiving to a holiday.

Wednesday Excerpt, "Repercussions"

“I am more than a little disappointed by Linvin’s failure. I have a good deal of pent up rage in my heart with only your sad sack of bones to release it upon. As a man of my word, I will kill you, but first let me introduce you to some people most interested to meet you.” Citizens from the gallery came forward with clubs, chains, and staffs. “My people want to convey their feelings about you burning half the capital along with their homes on your last visit.”

The people set upon Anvar so quickly that all the old elf could do was hide his face. His robe was shredded by the chains and the clubs repeatedly pounded his back and legs. Those holding staffs went for the head. Soon both Anvar’s ears were bleeding and the back of his head had been severely bloodied. A kick in the side knocked him on his back and his face became the primary target.

Necromancer stood silently and looked at his master with disgust. This was done in private because there was no honor in killing an old man in chains, but Mandrean loved the action. Necromancer, in truth, was a colder soul than his master, but he believed in giving his worthy opponents their due. Anvar had been worthy of respect as an adversary. He remembered Anvar’s last plea in his cell.

“Master?” asked Necromancer. “How did you plan to finish Greenlith?”

“Once the beating has him near death, I will use the Blue Sapphire to slice pieces off him while he is alive until his body surrenders.”

“That is a fine plan, but it does not let Greenlith suffer long enough. May I suggest you send him, with these wounds, to be one of the Forgotten Ones on the bottom floor of the prison? There without food, water, or light he will be slowly devoured by the giant rats roaming the level. Let him feel his life slip away over the days. It is much more suiting, don’t you think?”

Mandrean considered the plan. “I do want him to suffer as I have. If I do as you suggest, though, I will not have the pleasure of killing him for myself.”

“Come, My Lord, such an insignificant murder is beneath you and the great power you possess. He is not worthy of your effort.”

Mandrean saw that Anvar had stopped moving and ordered the people to relent in their assault. He stood and walked over to the limp body of Anvar. It was completely covered in blood. After watching for a few moments, he saw signs of respiration. “Don’t you die on me yet, Old Elf. I have a new cell for you. This time there will be no tea or guests. Guards. Remove him to the D Floor of the prison. Pay no attention to his cries or begging. He will become one of the Forgotten Ones and be denied all aid from this day forward. Now be off with him.”

As Anvar’s bloody carcass was carried away, Necromancer watched and thought, Anvar Greenlith, you are either the wisest man in Lavacia or the most foolish. Time will tell.

It took four goblin guards to carry Anvar’s nearly lifeless body from the throne room back to the prison. Upon entering, they started down the spiral staircase along the walls of the great roundhouse. They passed the Room of Horrors where Linvin had vanquished Hugon and saved Miri just a few years before. The next level down was a place where dead prisoners were kept until they were disposed of in the night when fewer eyes were watching. Below that was a storage room for the prison and the stairs came to an end at a narrow hallway. It was lit by lanterns and led to a massive oaken door with cell bars on a small window near its top.

In spite of their iron constitutions, the goblins covered their noses with rags as they opened the door. The smell of death, excrement, and decay was overpowering. With a heave, they threw Anvar into the room and shut the door.

Coming out of his stupor, Anvar tried to take stock of his surroundings in the midst of the menacing pain he was feeling. He lay in the spot on the floor where the lantern light shone in. As his eyes adjusted he saw forms the size of a dog race across the room. He was almost fortunate to have his nose broken and bloodied as he was unable to smell any of the foul odors about.

Anvar wiped the blood still flowing from his head with the sleeve of his robe. You really outdid yourself with this plan, Anvar. After being beaten nearly to death you get yourself thrown in here. Oh Linvin, my boy. I have played all my cards now. There are no more tricks left in my bag. I pray you come in time to save me.

 

Guest Post

I was privileged to write a guest post on the blog site, “Writing in the Modern Age.”  It was a chance for me to express my thoughts.  Many thanks to Marie Lavender for the opportunity.  Here is the link to the article: http://marielavender.blogspot.com/2016/11/guest-post-going-it-alone-by-rival-gates.html  Enjoy the read!

Blog Appearance

The blog site Field of Bookish Dreams has hosted me and my most recent book, “Repercussions Abound.”  Check it out here, http://fieldofbookishdreams.blogspot.com/2016/11/spotlight-on-repercussions-abound.html

The Trouble With Healthcare

I grew up in Ontario, Canada though I was born in Port Huron, Michigan.  And though we had to wait hours to see the family doctor, and there was no prescription drug coverage, my parents never paid for my doctor visits or hospital care when I crushed my shoulder in a biking accident.  Not one dollar was charged to them and it was a major surgery.  So I didn’t have to wait until the bones had settled in a deformed way they had me show up at the emergency room the one morning in the month the shoulder surgeon had to make rounds in the ER.  He saw me on a consultation and whisked me off to surgery.  Otherwise I would have looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame for the rest of my life.  Obviously it is a flawed system but my poor parents and I received no bill for world class care.  Fast forward to today.  My poor wife was in an auto accident and broke her foot.  It’s $60 every time we breath the save air as the doctor.  Then she needs two surgeries.  One will be next week (So I might not blog) on Tuesday and one a few months down the road.  So I have to pay one large deductible before insurance kicks in for part this year and then it resets in January so I pay it all again next year.  It’s ridiculous.  How are ordinary families supposed to pay for accidents?  Then there will be physical therapy.  My poor wife.  But this system doesn’t work.  The Canadian one isn’t perfect either as years ago my father waited in intensive care for 4 MONTHS for a triple bypass in a Canadian hospital and nearly died on their waiting list.  Only by breaking the rules and letting a resident do the surgery did he pull through.  That’s not the answer either.  But there must be something in between.  Imagine having no insurance!  Something’s better than nothing but being in debt forever with insurance is no answer either.  This is not my problem to solve.  I’m just going to concentrate on my wife and her health.  

Multi-Author Guest Blog

There was a multi-author blog of considerable size in which I was invited to participate.  The question posed to each of us was, “What does your writing process look like?” My answer is a little way down though the answers are in no particular order.  Some of the other authors had interesting points of view as well.  Please take a look at this piece of which I am honored to be a part.  http://marielavender.blogspot.com/2016/11/what-does-your-writing-process-look-like-special-multi-author-blog-event-and-350th-anniversary.html

Enjoy!

Excerpt, "Repercussions"

Necromancer was the first to appear from the stairwell. He ordered the goblin guards to wait there. As the Court Magician hovered over to Anvar’s cell with his arms pulled into the sleeves of his white robe with scarlet trim, he lowered his head and sighed. “My Dear Chess Adversary. It would seem our games and conversations are at an end. As you have no doubt guessed, it frosted last night and there is no sign of Linvin.

“I am surprised by his inaction. I am rarely wrong about a person’s demeanor, but there is little in the Territory he could not handle and we know he entered the Territory some months ago. The only sound reason for his not being here by now is that he wanted you removed as an obstacle to his success. He was always a brilliant tactician, though I would never say it to his face, but I never would have guessed he would sacrifice you. Since childhood you are the closest thing he has known to a father. It is good we did not wager on this.

“I had hoped Linvin would show for the engagement for various reasons. Either Mandrean would be dead or I would have to remain his servant for the rest of his mortal life. It is such a pity your nephew’s good sense made him forget sentimentality and think of himself. With you out of the picture, he might come and give me what I want after all.”

Anvar stood directly across from him on his side of the cell. “Linvin might still show and fail. You said yourself that you doubted even Linvin could best Mandrean’s plan. If that happened, you would still be nothing but a servant.”

“I sense a proposition about to be made,” Necromancer remarked with skepticism. “You do remember I cannot disobey my bumbling master, Lord Mandrean.”

“That is not my intent. I am to be killed, but there is no saying how. Convince Mandrean to perform the act slowly. Give Linvin more time.”

Necromancer was taken aback by the offer. “You want me to convince Mandrean to slowly kill you? Surely you realize this will mean prolonged agony for you?”

“I know the ramifications.”

Necromancer nodded his head and the cell door opened. “Your faith in your nephew is misplaced. You are opening yourself up for torture with little chance of salvation. Perhaps you are too much of a martyr to suit me.”

“It is true that I believe in Linvin. As for being a martyr, it would mean I would have to die, and I have no intent on doing so.”