Milo learns How to Handle the Catflap…

I thought that most cats would jump at the chance of freedom when presented with a means of escape.

Not Milo, bless him. He simply didn’t cotton on, and I was beginning to think he never would.

I have done all the right things, shown him how it works, and stood there for ten minutes holding it open.

But the penny wasn’t dropping.

He is desperate to go out, but leaving the door open wasn’t really an option, what with the weather we have been getting lately.

If he was a good boy and always used the litter tray, it wouldn’t be a problem. He could take all the time in the world to figure it out. But he has adopted other places to use. Too many other places, so it is getting a bit crucial.

I have been diligent about keeping the litter tray clean, even changing the brand of pellets, but nothing has helped.

He has been outside, which should have encouraged him, but he seems so nervous out there, almost a scaredy cat.

Whereas indoors, he is anything but nervous. If you could see the way he flies around the room at top speed like a ginger ninja, you wouldn’t think he would be scared of anything.

Yesterday, we were in the yard, and the wind blew the door closed. Something must have spooked him, for he made for the door and vanished through the catflap like he had been doing it for years. Yay, progress, I thought.

Not from inside, though. I have even used strong tape to hold the flap open, but he didn’t oblige…

This was one problem I didn’t expect, hopefully not for much longer…

What was This?

Macro Monday’s post puzzled several of our readers, so I promised to reveal all.

I must admit that this had me scratching my head until I found out what it was. That’s what I love about macro photography. It can be something you see every day, but because it’s a close-up image, you don’t recognise it.

Drum roll…

The fruit of the horse chestnut tree

A tall, broad tree of woodlands, roadsides and parks, the introduced horse chestnut is familiar to many of us. The ‘conker’ producing tree – its shiny, brown seeds appearing in their spiny cases in autumn.

The horse chestnut is a tall, broad tree that has been widely planted in parks and gardens. Originally native to the mountains of northern Greece and Albania, it was introduced into the UK in 1616 and has since become naturalised. In April and May, rows of horse chestnuts lining roads and in woodlands provide a spectacular display of ‘candles’ – large, upright flower spikes ranging in colour from white to deep pink. In autumn, it sheds its spiny-cased seeds, known as conkers.

How to identify

The horse chestnut has hand-shaped, palmate leaves with five to seven-toothed leaflets. It displays large, pinky-white flower spikes, and its spiny-shelled fruits contain seeds, or ‘conkers’.

Did you know?

The conkers of the horse chestnut are collected by children everywhere for competitions: attached to strings, two conkers are alternately flicked at each other until one breaks. Taking this a step further, the world conker championships are held at Ashton in Northamptonshire in October every year.

(from www.wildlifetrusts.org )

The Search ~ Mindlovemisery Menagerie ~ Wordle #296

Continued from last week. HERE

The Search



Trying to remember what I knew about St Germaine
Like clockwork, my thoughts kicked in
He was a wealthy man, into the occult
Many thought of him as a second Jesus
I hoped to find the secret documents written by him, 
and the book I searched for
They say he is a man who knows everything, who never dies
But where are these documents now?
Turning back to the altar, I wondered who had placed the camellias
I had trampled on. Were they a clue to the keyhole I needed to find?
It felt like I held an ancient charm in my hand
Mice ran around my feet, mingling with the chaos of this place
I wondered where the strong smell of peppermint had come from
There stood a young lady in her twenties, slim, some would say fairylike
She spoke first, “I thought I was the only one who had dibs on this place,
are you looking for something?”
For a moment, wondering if she was real, I couldn’t speak
The key felt hot in my hand
I answered, “I was walking when I found this place.”
Having exhausted my search for the keyhole, I thought it lay elsewhere
I didn’t want to tell her why I was here
With the amount of rubble on the floor I should have heard her walk away
It seemed she had vanished, leaving me mulling over her last words
“You never know what you could find in a place like this.”
With no keyhole, my search goes on, wondering if she was real 
and what she might know about this place…


©AnitaDawes2022

Jaye’s Week ~ #Progress

It is getting harder than ever to come up with posts that are not filled with even a little doom and gloom, mainly because I am trying so hard to avoid thinking about the future.

I should be bouncing around like a two-year-old at a birthday party, full of the joy of the approaching release of my latest masterpiece.

The excitement is there, somewhere, as I get moments when I forget everything else and become a writer and nothing else matters.

Book Four in the series, but can be read as a stand alone

The pre-release is going well, HERE IN UK and IN US with interest on amazon itself and also my own marketing efforts on social media and Bookfunnel HERE.

Many, many thanks to everyone who has taken part!

I almost have everything ready for next week’s launch, and I’m busy working on a trailer and the paperback edition.

It crossed my mind that I should be promoting the previous book in the series, CrossFire, so I have reduced the price in case anyone is interested in finding out what happened before and how my favourite detective, David Snow, ended up the way he did.

Blurb for CrossFire

A mysterious thriller about an unusual serial killer, from the author of Nine Lives and Out of Time…

Detective Snow has another killer to catch.

A killer as mysterious as the crimes he commits.

Someone has killed his sergeant and now seems to be coming after him.

He is hampered by the arrival of ‘Ruthless’ DI Ruth Winton,

Someone who is not who she seems to be.

Can he outwit this killer, or will the truth cost him his life?

Ghost of a Chance… just what I need!

Work in Progress!

For the past few days, I have shut myself in the office with that timeless excuse, I simply cannot put this book down!

Seriously, for the first time in a long time, I am really committed to finishing this book. Where I can generally put my writing aside to do all the normal, everyday jobs, I suddenly can’t do it. This book has to come first…

I cannot stop until I can no longer hold a pen, and I even eat at my desk. I hope this won’t just be a flash in the pan as the word count is rising!

I hope!

The World in White… #Festive Fiction

Image by Alain Audet from Pixabay

Snow crunched beneath my feet as I walked towards the church. A string of icicles hung from the Lychgate.

A world in white, silent, the snow lay untouched by others. I looked back at my footprints, melting pools of snow lay behind me.

Unlit houses dark against the white, no sign of life. I felt alone, abandoned in a strange place. I have no memory of passing this way before.

The church door stood ajar, inside I felt warmer, welcomed. The early morning light threw a kaleidoscope of colour across the pews. The tiled floor danced, shimmered with light. With the door being open, I didn’t think anyone would mind if I wandered around.

Three steps beneath the church lay the most beautiful room, lit by the light coming from the tall arched windows. I counted twelve pillars, covered in carvings of cherubs, grapes and strange winged creatures I had no name for.

My mind told me I should be afraid, but I felt at home. As I moved through the space, touching each pillar as I passed, a feeling of having touched them before filled my thoughts. Memories that cannot be mine.

I was there with six others, bare feet and long white dresses. What we were doing there was not revealed to me. I did not run from this place, for we were happy. That much was clear from the smiles and the sound of laughter.

These strange blue pillars seemed to hold some kind of attraction that kept us playing here long after we should have been home asleep in our beds.

I couldn’t wait to get back to the B&B to ask about the church. Fresh snow had fallen, stealing my footprints. As I walked through the Lychgate, I felt a shiver grip my body. I heard a voice in my head and knew it belonged to my grandmother Sarah. “Don’t look back…”

I knew the tone, she meant for me to obey so I did as she bid. Reaching the B&B, I asked about the church.

“You’re frozen, come sit by the fire…” The landlady led me to an armchair, and I sat.

“You have been outside for hours…” She put a hot cup of tea in my hands and told me there was no church here. “It burnt down more than 100 years ago. We almost sent out a search party to look for you.”

I looked at the clock on the mantle, I had been gone for four hours. I remembered leaving at ten o clock that morning. I told her she must be wrong; I was inside the church.

She patted my hand like an aged aunt and told me again how it burned down, taking six young lives, young girls about to take their first communion.

 I could not speak to her. Ignoring my grandmother’s warning, I went straight back to retrace my steps, but I could not find the church. I did find the remains of a graveyard and seven headstones. Tears froze on my face as I read each name. My own stood out like neon, Sarah Wilkes, aged ten…

©AnitaDawes2021

Dead of Winter ~ Journey 10 ~ Pergesca ~ Review

Dead of Winter: Journey 10, Pergesca” resumes outside the Lost Library, where Hallgeir was faced with a decision that could impact the entire world.
.
Lucetius is gravely wounded when he attempts to deliver a message. Emlyn, Zasha, and Osabide are again separated from all their friends. The Three must continue their journey without assistance or protection from the other travellers. They must reach the faraway city of Pergesca. That is also the seat of power of the ancient Society of Deae Matres. Will the companions eventually be reunited?
.
A vicious enemy returns, displaying unexpected strength.
.
An important character dies in this novelette. The death of a character is a rare thing in stories written by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene.

Our Review

This enthralling story is gathering pace, and although things do seem promising, I doubt there can be a totally happy conclusion as there are too many opposing forces at work here.

Emlyn, in her innocence, cannot hope to compete with all the forces of evil that surround her.

Or can she?

The mysterious force that guides her is her only help. Thankfully, her companions have stopped treating her as a child, dismissing her adventures and intuitions, as they have begun to realise that a strong and powerful presence is guiding her.

Watching the fall of Haldis, someone I never completely trusted (I was with Emlyn with this one) I was impressed with the way the author handled this extraordinarily complex situation.

Throughout the episodes already visited and enjoyed, I have been enthralled, entertained and patient, waiting for the story to reveal its secrets, but as we near the end, the tension is becoming unbearable.

I need to know who or what is guiding Emlyn…

A Sisters Gift…

Anita wrote this wonderful poem for my book, Out of Time…

Out of Time

Kate’s life, her mind, is out of time
A savage wind took all 
but the brush from her hand.
Her thoughts crash like a wild storm
She no longer has the will to speak
One last blow to strike
A fake wedding planned by Detective Snow
To trap the beast that waits without.
Will Jack be snared or run again?
The snowman, as Kate calls him,
Will he stay with her until the end...

►© Anita Dawes 2018

Book Description

Kate Devereau wakes up in hospital in this exciting sequel to NINE LIVES,

unable to speak or move after the brutal attack by her ex-husband.

Her brain has shut down, refusing to acknowledge the misery of her dark, disturbing past.

A past that conceals a web of painful secrets.

Can she gradually piece her shattered life back together,

Or will she discover that her nightmare is far from over?