In With the New...

As summer winds down and back-to-school displays pop up in every store, I can’t help feeling nostalgic. The bins of school supplies bring back memories of getting ready for first grade (there was no public kindergarten in 1960s Texas). I still remember my very first lunch box—pink vinyl with a poodle on the front. Inside was a glass-lined vacuum thermos that, sadly, didn’t survive the year. One day after lunch, I dropped it (still in the lunch box), and that was the end of it.

Even now, when I pass those bins, I have to resist grabbing a fresh box of crayons, pencils, or highlighters. It’s the idea of “new” that tempts me. Every August, I’d argue with my mother about why I needed a brand-new box of crayons. Last year’s broken and used ones just wouldn’t do.

I attended school at the height of the baby boom (yes, I’m a “boomer”), where thirty or more students packed each classroom. And no air conditioning. In Texas. At the end of summer. How our teachers didn’t faint after thirty-plus sweaty kids came in from recess, I’ll never know. And yes, we went out for recess. Everyday. Except if it rained. The idea of heat warnings didn't exist at the time.

This year, I learned my old elementary school is closing because too few students now live in the area. With it goes a little piece of my own history, tucked into those brick walls and chalkboard corners.

What about you? Does “back to school” stir up any memories of your own? I'm always interested in your thoughts! liese@liesesherwoodfabre.com

Now Available!

Sherlock Holmes Into the Fire

Sherlock Holmes in seventeen tales of Gothic horror, mystery, and adventure!

Sherlock Holmes Into the Fire connects Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's tales of the "grotesque and terrible to be read “...round the fire upon a winter’s night" with his great consulting detective. Seventeen writers accepted the challenge to confront Sherlock Holmes with the mysteries from the original Round the Fire tales with apply his methods to the problems presented.

My tale, "The Adventure of the Black Diamond Brotherhood," explores the mysterious disappearance of a whole locomotive and the mysterious forces behind it.

Available for free through Kindle Unlimited, or as an ebook here.

Book Fairs and Giveaways

The Ultimate Crime Fiction Book Giveaway features a special edition of The Godfather by Mario Puzo and ten books for the Grand Prize winner (a $250 total value). The first-place winner receives copies of the ten other books shown here.

Enter the giveaway here.

All Genre Book Fair from eBookFairs

Welcome to eBookFairs' all-genre book fair series, a digital haven for bibliophiles that's brimming with literary wonders! From new to established authors, from riveting thrillers to enlightening non-fiction, our curated selection promises a plethora of diverse tales and voices that you are sure to enjoy!

Begins August 16.

Don't forget to scroll to the bottom of the page to enter the drawing for a $50 Amazon gift card! Enter here.

Almost thirty books to get your students reading in the new school year! These various levels and genres will appeal to all types of readers. Check them all out here.

The Beast of Baker Street

Part VI

Recap: Dr. Watson reveals why Holmes retired in 1903: a werewolf attack on the moors cursed him. Strange moods, cravings, and disappearances followed, culminating in a savage murder. The truth struck Watson like a blow—the beast was Holmes himself. After averting disaster, they vowed to find a cure. With the final full moon upon them, Holmes drugged himself with laudanum and boarded himself in a room in the warehouse district while Watson stood guard with a revolver loaded with silver bullets. The drug failed. Snarls and claws shattered the silence as boards splintered and glowing eyes emerged. Heart pounding, Watson raised his gun, praying it wouldn’t come to this—and fired.

My world stopped, waiting for an unknown outcome. The only sound: a ringing in my ears from the gunshot.

Through it, I heard a muffled cry. “Watson?”

Knowing that the transformation had occurred, I rushed to the door and peered through the hole. “Holmes, are you all right? Not harmed?”

His voice came through the door, shaky and unsure. "Very tired…the laudanum…is it morning?" 

My body folded in on itself, my limbs becoming heavy. He had no memory of the transformation. “I’m coming in to check on you.”

“Wait…”

I grasped the board, preparing to wrench it from the door. A shuffling came through the hole, followed by a soft groan that told me he was aware of what had transpired. “Oh, God.” After a pause, he said, “Please, give me time to…to prepare myself.”

“I’ll remove the nails, but wait for you to tell me I can enter.”

When he allowed me access, I found he’d wrapped himself in a torn overcoat. I shone the lantern around the rest of the room and discovered the rest of his clothes heaped like a pile of rags. 

When the light stopped there, he said, “We’ll have to include an extra set of clothing for the next time.”

“The next time?”

“The next full moon.” His voice took on a clinical tone. “I’ll continue to seek a cure, but it will require experimentation. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to assist, especially if….” His gaze shifted to the wall where the silver bullet was embedded in the wall. He sighed. “I have become the very mystery I must solve.”

Our return to Baker Street was similar to that of the previous night, skulking through the alleyways to avoid stares at Holmes’ disheveled appearance. Upon reaching our flat, he went straight to his bedroom, and once again, I took my place to guard his door. His deep, steady breathing told me he still had laudanum in his system and needed to sleep it off.

In a fashion, I was relieved. I had managed to wean him from his cocaine habit and feared him becoming a victim of laudanum or opium addiction instead. Besides, I had a plan of my own. If only I didn’t have to wait a month to test it.

In the weeks that followed, few cases came to 221B and those that did were dismissed as not being worthy of Holmes’ interest or time. This allowed us to research the topic more thoroughly. Treatises on werewolves were available in various languages back to the 1500s, and descriptions of trials were found in Livonia, France, Eastern Europe, and Germany. While some dismissed lycanthropy as a mental problem (which Holmes noted, “obviously not the case.”), others lumped it in with a discussion of witchcraft in general.

Cures, of course, depended upon the approach to the affliction. Prayers or more serious treatments, including beatings or burnings, were offered for those considered under a witch’s spell. Many mentioned wolfsbane, but I discouraged that one for its high toxicity. We both agreed that silver was the most promising, having already shown some effect by shooting a silver bullet over the creature’s head.

“It,” Holmes said with a nod, “offers the most appropriate option. I’m not ready to test my tolerance for wolfsbane yet. That will be a later month, I suppose.”

Having experience with the use of silver nitrate injections for certain infections, particularly among soldiers, I considered this method as the first option.

The decision made, I procured the needed supplies well before the next full moon. We also reinforced the small cell at the warehouse, replacing the door with a metal one with a small slit for observation, anchoring a chain and leg shackle to the floor, and adding bars to the inside walls. 

As the month continued, I noticed a shift in my friend’s behavior again—irritation, anxiety, and a taste for meat (raw, if possible, or very rare, if not). Two days before the full moon, we decided to begin the injections. After some debate with myself, I chose a one-percent solution. Most patients were able to tolerate a two-percent solution, and the lower dose would allow for an increase if necessary. Neither of us had only vague hopes for the compound’s effect. For my part, I sought any behavioral changes in my friend. Unfortunately, I saw no return of the calculating manners that so characterized him in the past. 

The first night of the full moon, we shackled my friend inside his room, and I secured the door. As before, I took up my vigil outside and waited, praying for none of the horrors of the last time to return. 

Through a dirt-streaked window, the soft glow from the rising full moon cast shadows into the cavernous warehouse. As it rose over the rooftops, sounds from within the room broke the almost suffocating silence around me. Metal grated on wood. The chain securing Holmes’s leg dragged across the wooden floor. A muffled howl echoed behind the door, causing me to clasp my revolver even tighter. Another followed, this one louder and more distinct. The chain rattled again. Holmes was attempting to break free. 

I stepped cautiously to the door and slid back the cover on the observation window. Hunched on the floor was a figure. Not quite Holmes, but not a beast either. The clothing had been ripped and lay scattered about the room to reveal a distorted figure of elongated limbs covered with fur. It turned to me as I studied the beast through the window. The bright, yellow eyes stared at me and seemed to hold some recognition. Rising, it howled and lunged at me. The chain, however, kept it from reaching the door. 

“I’m sorry, Holmes,” I said and aimed the revolver through the slit.

Its flash lasted less than a breath, but the image of the distorted, furry creature frozen in its blast seared itself onto my retinas.

The beast dropped immediately to the floor, its fur receded, and my friend lay in a crumpled heap. 

To be continued.....

If your email begins: pjwhite****, please email me at liese@liesesherwoodfabre.com for your $5 Amazon gift card!

See you in September!

Liese

Those links again:

Sherlock Holmes Into the Fire: here

The Ultimate Crime Fiction Book Giveaway: here

All-Genre Book Fair: here.

Back to School books: here