Category Archives: My Writing

Last Phoenix Fan Fusion T, Social Media, Were You a Female in Afghanistan, Gardening: Monday Blog Post

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This is it. The last picture I took of tee-shirts. Hope you’ve enjoyed them!

Newest News:

After the Phoenix Fan Fusion, I began showing some of the t-shirts from the show. Here is the last one I took. Many thanks to all of the very nice fans who stopped at my table so I could take their pictures. You made my day.

Let’s talk social media for a moment. I belong to several sites, and on a couple, I’m really building a following. For example, I’ve passed 700 followers on Bookbub. If you aren’t a follower there, and you love books, you should be. Lots of giveaways there, lots of announcements of free books by your favorite authors. Lots of reviews so you can check out a book before you buy. Then there’s my YouTube channel. I passed 1000 followers on there. I don’t post a lot on there, but there are some amusing things to see. And finally, not really social media, but I do post the occasional newsletter when I have some book news to share. You can find that below. I’d appreciate it if you’d follow me on all three of these places.

I’ve been poking at my next book in the Jean Hays series, Mystery at the Reunion. I know it’s been taking forever but I’ve finally figured out how to fix the draft book. I’m looking for a female military person who has been stationed in Afghanistan. I have some questions about your time in country, so that I can get details correct for a sub-plot in the book. If you did serve, or know someone who did, would you allow me to do an interview? It can be via email, phone, Skype, whatever works. Contact me and we can work out the details.

Gardening. The peaches are small, and some are now ripe. I picked one, because I thought it was a little hard and bit into it. Perfection. Fuzzy, warm from the sun, delicious without being too soft. Of course, some are already being picked at by the birds but that’s all right. There’s plenty for all of us.

Giveaways:

The Summer Giveaway is open! There are 33 participating authors with 33 book prizes and 33 summer gift prizes. The Grand Prize is $100 in Paypal cash. This is certainly a giveaway to get involved with.

Where will I Be?:

Now that the Payson Book Festival is done, I don’t have anything on my calendar until the December Mesa Book Festival. The date is December 14th from 10am – 5pm and the location has changed to 225 E Main St, Mesa. This is the Benedictine University, for those familiar with Mesa. I am sharing a booth space with the wonderful Marsha Ward. The site only promotes the author registering the table, so you’ll only see Marsha’s name, not mine. But I promise, I’ll be there. You can find all the details and a map at https://anthology.org/category/mesa-book-festival/.

On the other hand, if something juicy comes up, because it’s a long time between July and December, I’ll let you know. Do you know of an event where you’d like to see me? I’d love to know about it. Contact me here and say the word.

Newsletter Sign Up:

Click here to sign up for my newsletter. I’ve put sign-up gifts on the regular and the SciFi/Fantasy and the Cozy Mystery newsletter sign-ups. That’s right. If you sign up for my newsletter you get a free story from me. Be prepared for fun and contests! Click on the video link for a short video from me. Hear what I’m working on. Join my “A” Team to be the first to read my books and hear what new books are coming.

Don’t forget to follow my blog, too. Different material goes in the blog as in the newsletter. You can share both, so spread the word!

Newest Book Release:

Gold Dreams released May 13th, 2019. It is only up on Amazon, at the moment. I’ll let everyone know when the print version is up and is up on the other platforms. You can also see all my books on https://conniesrandomthoughts.com/my-books-and-other-published-work/. If you’ve read any of my books, please drop a short, honest, review on the site where you bought it or on Goodreads or BookBub. Your review is critical to help me promote the books to other readers. Thanks in advance.

Thank you for reading my blog. Like all of the other work I do as an author, it takes time and money. If you enjoy this Monday blog and the Friday free story and the recipe I put up on the 25th of every month, consider donating to https://www.paypal.me/ConniesRandomThought. I appreciate any donation to help support this blog.

The Party – Chapter 7: Bill Brown Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual and racist slurs and comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse, and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 7: Bill Brown #9645990

Bill Brown, now known as 9645990, got up on command, went to the tray window and slid his empty breakfast tray and rice paper spoon inside then lined up along the cafeteria wall with the others in his cohort. It was time to go to work.

He’d been surprised when two weeks into this nightmare he’d been transferred from the facility he’d first been taken to and sent here.

At a command, they all began to march, single file, out of the cafeteria.

He thought he was going to be shipped to Africa or something but no. He was here, in a huge factory, where he’d been assigned to an engineering drafting shop. It made sense, he thought as they marched along. Why waste perfectly good brain power? The work wasn’t easy, but it was boring, though fairly matching what he’d been doing his whole adult life. Drafting had never been his favorite thing to do.

At his office the cohort stopped on command. The guard shouted out his number. He stepped out of line and saluted. A modified Nazi salute he had been horrified to learn the second day he’d been at the receiving facility. That first two weeks was an intensive course in learning that he was no longer a free man. The bruises had only faded a week ago. The cohort moved on and he went into his office. There were three other men in there, already at their drafting tables. No one looked up.

He sat down and picked up his Computer Aided Design pen without addressing the others. The cameras in the four corners of the ceiling made sure that they understood that while there was no guard in the room, they were being watched.

The first week was difficult. He’d never worked on 3-D CAD software, but much was the same as with the software he had used before so the learning curve wasn’t too big. After that, the work was dull. This week, according to specification, draw a gear. Actually, a different gear every day. No one told them what the purpose was of any of the drawings they completed. But he did know that everyone in the room was working on mechanical parts. No telling though, if they belonged to the same project.

That was just one of the things that nagged at him. Taking pride in his work before always entailed knowing what the big picture was. What the smaller parts fit into. Now, it was just this. A single drawing. He was already bored.

A chime rang. Everyone stopped what they were doing and lined up at the door. A guard came and escorted them to an exercise yard. Bill had been surprised, the first day, when he realized they were being allowed outside. “Half an hour,” the guard had said. Some headed for a quarter-mile track where they began walking. Others for a weight area where they began lifting. There was some talk, but only about the weights or the weather. No other conversation.

One guy, number 9062579, introduced himself in a low voice. “Come with me. We’ll walk.”

Bill nodded and they headed to the track. “I’m Bill.”

“George. But never call me that. That’s a punishable offence.”

Bill nodded. “We get to do this every day?”

“Rain or shine.” George began swinging his arms around. “This helps with keeping limber after leaning over the desk all day.”

Bill did the same. “I was surprised how good breakfast was.”

“Sure. We do work, they feed us well. Gotta keep the farm animals in tip top shape.”

“What?” Bill stared at George.

George snorted. “That’s what we are now, you know. Animals. We earn our keep, we get treated well. If we don’t, well, I’ve seen many a man leave on a stretcher and not return.”

Bill didn’t know what to think about that. “Why?”

“Because good food, exercise, plenty of rest keeps us in good shape. I’ve lost forty pounds since I’ve been here. No booze, very little sugar—it’s the diet my doctor had been trying to get me to use for years.” He snorted again. “He was right. I feel better than I did when I graduated from college.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About six months.”

That’s when a whistle blew. A guard, back near the building pointed at them. George waved. “We gotta split up. They don’t like it when we talk together.”

With that he sped up, leaving Bill to trail behind. Since he was getting out of breath, he let George go and slowed down a bit. He thought about what he’d heard. He didn’t like the idea that they were considered farm animals. But everything to this point had surprised him.

Now, two week later, he pondered everything he knew so far. He knew he was in a Wagnall Aerospace Industries factory. Their logo was on everything. That he and the other men were slave labor was obvious. Cheaper, he realized, to keep the men healthy with good food and exercise, than to feed them poorly and have them get sick. Sick men didn’t produce well. He swung his arms around first in sync then as a windmill, then back the other way. George had been right. It helped with the back strain. And he could tell he was losing weight, even after two weeks.

But, was this going to be his life forever? Slave labor? Even if he did get good food and exercise, this isn’t all he wanted. He was only thirty-six years old. He missed Mara, and the kids. Maybe he could write them? This was really the first time he’d had time to think about more than surviving these new circumstances. Who could he ask? He’d try his cohort guard. That’s who they were supposed to go to with issues.

He took a breath and at the chime, started back to the building. Yes. He’d ask Officer Fernald. He already felt better.

Thank you for reading.

The Party- Chapter 6: Mara Brown – Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual and racist slurs and comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse, and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 6: Mara Brown

Mara Brown stood in her back yard, arms wrapped around herself, doing her best to keep from sobbing. Her beautiful family. Her beautiful house. Gone. All gone. It had been three weeks since the Immaculata had barged into their yard and taken her husband and children away. Was it really just three weeks? She sniffed back imminent tears and gave her head the tiniest of shakes. It seemed a lifetime ago.

She looked around the back yard. People were arriving for the auction. They stared at her but looked away when she caught their eye. Vultures, she thought. Here to pick over the body. That’s how she felt about it. The body of her old life.

It was amazing, actually, how fast it all was. The day it all exploded, she had been left standing, almost where she was right now, as the Macs left with her family and the poor Apples. Tears threatened so she turned to face the back of the yard and dashed the tears away. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. She wasn’t about to show these vultures any weakness. She pulled her spine erect and raised her head, squaring her shoulders as she turned back to face her house.

Bruce Leightner’s wife, Corrine, was watching her. Mara gave her a slight nod and was surprised when Corrine gave her a smile. A sad, but sympathetic smile. Mara gave a small smile back and they traded nods. Not all alone, even though Bruce was an asshat. Still it was something. She took a deep breath.

The day after the raid, three men from the government showed up at the front door. They introduced themselves and walked right in. The head guy, Mr. Clarke, told her what was going on as the other two headed upstairs, electronic pads in their hands.

“You’ll have to move, of course,” Clarke told her as he scanned what was on his pad. “All the furniture will have to be sold or moved, your choice. We’ll help you with that if you’d like.” He looked around the foyer and adjacent living room. “Nice place. It should sell quickly at the auction.”

Auction, she thought. “What auction?”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “For the fine. I see,” he scrolled pages on his pad, “you only have $12,347.56, in you accounts. Total, that is. The fine is $200,000.’

She felt as though she’d fallen into a house of mirrors. “Fine?”

He sighed. “Yes. For being married to racially impure. It’s $100,000 for your ex-husband and $50,000 each for the children. Good thing you only had two. It can get cost prohibitive with more children.” He went back to scanning his pad. “If we get enough for the house, you can keep what’s in your bank accounts and anything you get from the sale of the furniture.”

All she could do was nod.

“Just have a seat, it won’t take long for us to complete the assessment.”

She went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea. Mara sat in the morning room where she sipped it slowly as she watched the three men meet in the backyard and make their assessments back there. The tea was gone when Mr. Clarke came in through the back door.

“That’s about it, Mrs. Brown. We’ll send you a letter with the auction date. Have all furniture you’re keeping out by then. And all the rest of the furniture sold. The house should be empty for the sale.”

She nodded her understanding.

He gave her a smile and a nod. “Good working with you, Mrs. Brown.”

She watched him go out through the living room and heard the front door open, then close.

Now here she was. The auction. Several of her neighbors were in the crowd, none of them looking at her, at least eye to eye. The auction began. Mara was surprised at how fast it went. Bruce Leightner had the highest bid. While everyone was gathering around to congratulate him, Corrine walked over to her.

“I’m so sorry, Mara. Really. I am.”

Mara nodded. “Thank you.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Mara was surprised she’d asked. No one had spoken to her except in one-word statements or questions since the day. “Um. I have a little apartment.” She shrugged. “Something cheap. I don’t have a lot of money.”

Corrine reached up to pat Mara but Mara flinched away. Corrine dropped her hand, folding her arms in front of herself. “Sorry.” She sighed. “Look. You have the same email?”

Mara blinked in surprise. “Yeah.”

“I’ll email you. We’ll get together.”

“Corrine!”

Corrine flinched a little. “Yes, dear?”

“Let’s go!”

Corrine wagged her eyebrows at Mara. “I’ll email.” Then turned and walked to her husband.

Bruce grabbed her by the arm and jerked her toward the back gate. “That makes ten houses in this neighborhood.” His voice was loud enough to be heard two houses away. “Don’t be talking to no impures. Hear me?”

“But, she’s not impure.” Corrine defended Mara.

Bruce jerked her arm. “She married one. So stay away.” He glared back in Mara’s direction. “She’s not clean, sleeping with a nigger.”

“But…” Corrine began.

“Shut it.” He jerked her arm again as they crossed the street.

Mara drew in a big breath. This was how it was going to be. For a long time, she expected. Unclean. Dirty. Just how they’d described the Jews before World War II. She walked over to the auctioneer and Mr. Clarke. Time to see if the house sale covered the fine. She hoped so. She wondered if they’d help her find a job. Things were already getting lean.

Thank you for reading.

The Party: Chapter 5 Duncan Angelson – Friday Flash Fiction Post

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Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual and racist slurs and comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse, and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 5: Duncan Angelson

After Andy McGuire left, Duncan got to work. He knew exactly why Mr. Joe Evans, The People’s Party leader, wanted to talk. There was much to do. Too soon, his secretary, Wendy Ackerman, buzzed. “Mr. Evans to see you, Sir.”

He punched the intercom button. “Send him in.”

As the door opened, Duncan stood and walked around the desk. “Joe. Good to see you.” He held out his hand.

Joe Evans strode in and shook hands with the Chief of Staff. “Good to see you, too, Duncan. It’s been too long. Emily says you and Monica need to come out to the farm for dinner.”

“Let us know the day and time, Joe. We’d love to come out.” He motioned to a loveseat in the middle of the room. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Joe Evans sat down, his bulk nearly filling the loveseat.

“Drink?”

“Scotch. No ice.”

Duncan nodded and poured his best into a heavy, squat, cut-crystal glass. He poured one for himself then handed over the glass before sitting in the armchair across from a small, glass-topped coffee table.

Evans sipped, smacking his lips. “You know how to take care of a visitor, Duncan.”

Duncan smiled and put his lips to his drink, then placed it on the table. “I know you didn’t come all the way into Washington for a Scotch.”

“No.” Joe Evans sighed, drank again, and held the near empty glass in his lap. “You reading the Immaculata reports?”

“The summaries, of course. A full report when there’s something of interest, why?”

“Well, it’s a good thing, bad thing sort of issue. The Immaculata were very efficient. We had them started rounding up dissidents and activists before the President’s second term was only half over. And you know, by the time it ended, we’d put all of our people in place and had the electorate whipped into a frenzy about illegal aliens. Then we rolled back all the civil rights legislation since 1959. The next three years, we had anyone not a citizen and anyone with any Negro or Chink blood rounded up, or nearly so. This last year, anyone turned in by people they knew who had even the smallest amount of black, chink, or Hispanic blood was fair game.”

He laughed. “Damn but that marketing campaign was effective. Suspicion, greed, jealousy—all of it ramped up until we were working 24/7 on rounding people up.” He drank the last of his scotch and motioned, asking for another.

Duncan nodded and got up, taking the glass to his little dry bar. “So, what’s the problem?”

“It worked too well. The Immaculata are rounding up people now with so little taint in their blood that we’re damn close to making it up.” He took the glass from Duncan and drank some more. “We’re not sure what to do now.”

Duncan sat back in the armchair. “Are the people being turned in actually bad people? They complain about the president or the party?”

“No.” Joe Evans waved away the thought. “Matter of fact, a lot of them are party members and donated to the President’s reelection. Voted him President for Life, too.”

Duncan rubbed his cheek. He could feel the stubble already forming. “How about letting some of them go, then. You know, they were examined and found clean, politically correct. It might be time to show how fair the party is.”

For a moment, Evans rubbed his chin, nodding, as he thought that idea over. “Perhaps. I’ll take it to the committee.” He sipped, then changed the subject. “How’s the President?”

Duncan shook his head. “It’s like minding a child. But we knew that six years ago. How’s his wife?”

Evans sighed. “She’s happy to be in New York. Their girl is in that special school she needs. But Mrs. Margaret Masters wants to divorce. We can’t allow that.”

“Any particular reason? I mean other than she knows he’s a horndog?”

“She wants to be free to see other men. Understandable. She’s only thirty-two. But we can’t allow that.”

“What about if she sees men discretely? Would she go for that?” Duncan was thinking furiously. Maggie Masters knew the whole story. If she decided to spill the beans, that could cause a huge problem. Mainly for her. Duncan didn’t want that. He personally liked Maggie and her daughter, Bectie. It wouldn’t do for her to have an accident.

A slow head shake from Evans was the answer. Then he shrugged and drank another sip. “Maybe. I’ll take that to the committee too.” He sighed again. “We can play off anything that happens in the press, of course. Most of the media outlets know where their bread is buttered now. But there’s always a few reporters still willing to kick up a fuss.”

Duncan shrugged. “What about the President. I don’t think there’s enough hookers in the country to satisfy the lecher-in-chief.”

“Start bringing back the ones he started with. His dementia is far enough gone by now, and the girls all look the same anyway, he’ll never know.” Evans drained his glass and rose ponderously from the loveseat. He smoothed what little white hair he had into place. “The doc’s giving him a clean bill of health?”

“Yeah. As much as possible. Dementia has it’s health side effects, you know.”

Evans nodded. “Do what you have to. By the time he’s too sick for any appearances, we’ll have the entire country nailed down.” He turned to the door and took a step. “Oh.” He turned back. “The Eastern Federation wants a sit down on nuclear issues.”

“President Popov?”

“Right. When they rolled over Eastern Europe, the Balkans, and Germany, they acquired a lot of material.”

“I’ll set something up.” Duncan walked Evans to the door, opened it and shook his hand. “Give me a few days.”

“Keep in touch.”

Duncan nodded and went back into his office as Evans waddled out of the secretary’s office. Nukes, he thought. Great.

Thank you for reading.

Payson Book Festival, Phoenix Fan Fusion T’s, Book Sale & Giveaway: Monday Blog Post

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Newest News:

Here are just four of the wonderful women of Four Carat Press who attended the Payson Book Festival!

Wow! I cannot tell you how excited I am about this last weekend’s Payson Book Festival. We’re still doing the counts, but I can tell you that there were a LOT of people at the festival. With 93 authors, vendors, and publishers, this was a great event. If you were able to get to Payson and participate, thank you so much. If you didn’t get to come, I’m sorry you missed it. We had the Mogollon Monster, the Storybook monster, puppet shows, presentations, and did I mention the 93 authors? Here’s the secret. Mark your calendar for July 18, 2020. This is free to attendees and we welcome families. Money raised by the festival goes in part to two scholarships. One to a graduating high school student and one to a student at the Payson campus of the Gila Community College. Literacy is one of our missions and we put that in the forefront of our efforts. So! See you in 2020! You won’t be sorry you’ve come to the cool pines of Payson.

After the Phoenix Fan Fusion, I began showing some of the t-shirts from the show. Here is one for this week. I’ll have to admit. I really laughed out loud!

What a deal. For the month of July, I’m still offering many of my books either 50% off or free! That’s right, the entire month of July is Smashwords’ Summer/Winter Sale and I’m participating. If you decide to pick up one of my books, I hope you enjoy it. If you do, a small review would be greatly appreciated.

One more giveaway if you are a SciFi, Apocalyptic/Dystopian fan. Starting today! I’m with a group of authors offering just that. The giveaway is called World’s End and is through Book Funnel. You’ll be asked to join author’s newsletters. This giveaway is over at the end of July so don’t wait too long or you’ll miss it!

Gardening. What’s your gardening problem this year? Mine is the chipmunks, squirrels, and the rabbit that have taken up residence in my back yard. Sigh. The beautiful stone sided bed my husband built for me is empty. I’ve planted 3 sets of beans. All eaten as soon as they poke their heads up. Also, Swiss Chard, beets, and to be honest, I’ve now forgotten what else I’ve planted in that bed and it’s all been eaten. However, two green shoots are surviving. I suspect they’re tomato seedlings. At this point, whatever. I just am sad that whole bed is just dirt. It makes me sad.

Giveaways:

The Summer Giveaway is open! There are 33 participating authors with 33 book prizes and 33 summer gift prizes. The Grand Prize is $100 in Paypal cash. This is certainly a giveaway to get involved with.

Where will I Be?:

Now that the Payson Book Festival is done, I don’t have anything on my calendar until the December Mesa Book Festival. Dates are still to be determined but I’ll post as soon as the website makes info available.

On the other hand, if something juicy comes up, because it’s a long time between July and December, I’ll let you know. Do you know of an event where you’d like to see me? I’d love to know about it. Contact me here and say the word.

Newsletter Sign Up:

Click here to sign up for my newsletter. I’ve put sign-up gifts on the regular and the SciFi/Fantasy and the Cozy Mystery newsletter sign-ups. That’s right. If you sign up for my newsletter you get a free story from me. Be prepared for fun and contests! Click on the video link for a short video from me. Hear what I’m working on. Join my “A” Team to be the first to read my books and hear what new books are coming.

Don’t forget to follow my blog, too. Different material goes in the blog as in the newsletter. You can share both, so spread the word!

Newest Book Release:

Gold Dreams released May 13th, 2019. It is only up on Amazon, at the moment. I’ll let everyone know when the print version is up and is up on the other platforms. You can also see all my books on https://conniesrandomthoughts.com/my-books-and-other-published-work/. If you’ve read any of my books, please drop a short, honest, review on the site where you bought it or on Goodreads or BookBub. Your review is critical to help me promote the books to other readers. Thanks in advance.

Thank you for reading my blog. Like all of the other work I do as an author, it takes time and money. If you enjoy this Monday blog and the Friday free story and the recipe I put up on the 25th of every month, consider donating to https://www.paypal.me/ConniesRandomThought. I appreciate any donation to help support this blog.

The Party: Chapter 4 – Andy McGuire Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual and racist slurs and comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse, and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 4: Andy McGuire

Special Assistant to the President and Director of the Office of the Chief of Staff Andy McGuire entered the President Jeff Master’s private office. The Chief of Staff, Duncan Angelson was standing in the middle of the room. The president was on the sofa with a young, blond, woman in his lap. The young woman was wearing a sleeveless, low cut, tight fitting blouse in hot pink and the president had his hand up her tiny skirt, grinning like a small boy with his favorite toy. Andy thought the woman was barely legal but who knew. He moved his eyes to his boss, Duncan.

Duncan read from a folder. “Mr. President. After four years, the internment of undesirables is down. They’ve mostly been sent to internment camps and put to work for the good of the motherland. Dissidents, on the other hand—those numbers are up. But they’re getting harder to catch.”

Out of the corner of his eye Andy could see the president nuzzling the woman’s neck. He focused. “Chief, a message from the Secretary of Homeland Security.” He handed McGuire the sheet of paper and waited while the man read it.

“This is some news, Mr. President. The Immaculata have seized a small group of dissidents right here in Washington. They’re being interrogated as we speak. They expect they’ll get a number of leads on other groups.”

“Good,” the President said into the woman’s neck. “Good.” He moved his hand down her bare leg to her knee and moved it further aside. His hand went back up her skirt. “Keep me apprised. Dismissed.”

The Chief of Staff nodded. “Very good, sir. A reminder that the women’s volleyball team will be here in an hour and a half for a photo op.”

The President raised his head and grinned. “Excellent. Lovely young ladies, those.” He went back to his nuzzling, pushing the woman further back.

The Chief caught Andy’s eye and we left the room. Andy swallowed his bile and wished to go wash his hands, but he followed the Chief to his office. He closed the doors behind them.

“Make sure the President is cleaned up and in the Oval and the woman paid off and escorted out as soon as he’s done. Get the news crew into the office and set up before he gets in there.”

Andy nodded. The whole situation was disgusting but that was the world they were living in now. “The People’s Party leader, Mr. Evans, wants a meeting today.” Evans was the brains behind the president, who Andy was starting to believe was more than a little senile. But as long as he was kept in blonde young women and had time to watch eight hours of news and political commentary a day with his phone in hand to send out tweets, he was controllable. Evans, however, was merciless. Paid off by the top one percent of the one percent, the ultra-rich were now in charge of the country. Mega-corporations pretty much owned everything. The air, water and land was becoming more polluted already as environmental laws were repealed.

“What’s he want?”

“I suspect the little revolt in Congress the other day concerns him. He’s going to want those Senators taken care of.”

McGuire nodded, sighing. “Yeah. I figured as much. Can any of them be bought off?”

“Anyone who would take a payoff has pretty much been in our pocket for two years now. These are the radical hold-outs.” Andy wasn’t sure how the People’s Party had missed taking over those districts but that wouldn’t last much longer. The mid-term elections would see those Senators replaced. If they lived that long.

“See if they’ll be bought off. If not, arrange something.” He turned on his computer. He had work to do.

Andy nodded and left, stomach rolling. He was hoping they’d take a bribe. If not, the party had some people I could call. It would all look like accidents of course. They always did. And, for the sake of the visuals, they wouldn’t happen all at once. But it would happen. Oh yes. It would happen.

Thank you for reading.

The Party: Chapter 2 Capt Flynn – Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Just by happenstance, I recently picked up a copy of Trevayne, written by Robert Ludlum. In his introduction, he mentioned that he wrote the book after the Nixon Watergate scandal. In part he says of Watergate: “Here was the government, the highest of our elected and appointed officials entrusted with the guardianship of our system, not only lying to the people but collecting millions upon millions of dollars to perpetuate their lies and thus the controls they believed were theirs alone to exercise.” He goes on to point out that their meaning was to keep the country theirs. Not yours or mine, or even the neighbors across the street or across town. Only theirs. “The rest of us were somehow neither relevant nor competent. They knew better, therefore the lies had to continue and the coffers of ideological purity kept full so that the impure could be blitzkrieged by money and buried at the starting gates of political contests.”

It was like that during Watergate.In my humble opinion, it is even more so now.

Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual and racist slurs and comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse, and other unpleasant things.

Chapter 2: Captain Flynn

Captain Tyler Flynn closed the electronic notebook after Bill Brown was taken away. On either side of him, Lieutenant Daryll Moss and Lieutenant Lee Woden, stood up. They’d been at the interviews all afternoon.

“Why do they all say the same thing? I want to slap every one of them.” Moss shoved his chair under the table.

“I hear ya.” Woden did the same with his chair and they headed for the door. “You’d think one of them could say something original.”

“Captain Flynn?” Moss stopped a moment at the door. “More of this tomorrow?”

“Yep.” Flynn tucked the notebook into his briefcase. “The round-up are continuing.”

“Jesus Christ.” Woden opened the door. “Who knew so many non-whites were in the country. Like that last guy. Didn’t even know he was black?” Woden shook his head. “No wonder the country’d gone to hell in a hand basket.”

The officers left the room. Flynn headed for his office. “See you tomorrow, guys.”

“See ya,” the two offices said as they went the other direction.

Flynn knew the statistics, a good portion of the country had genetic markers for other races than Caucasian. That poor bastard Brown was turned in by a neighbor for unpatriotic activities. Flynn saw from the report it was bullshit, but the genetics didn’t lie. So he’d been rounded up. Flynn sighed to himself. Cameras were everywhere so there was no show of questions or remorse allowed about carrying out commands from headquarters.

At his office he locked the notebook in the safe, it had records of thousands of people in it, and checked for end of day messages. Nothing important, he was relieved to see, so he headed home.

The next morning, he was in a meeting with the Commander, 43rd Mobilization and Relocation Squadron and other squadron department heads. It was near the end of the meeting and Flynn was feeling thankful nothing strange was relayed today. Since President Master’s had declared marshal law and declared himself President for Life, things had been crazy. Hopefully it would settle down now.

Commander Green cleared his throat. Flynn looked up. That always signaled bad news. “Gentlemen.” The commander took a breath. “Any remaining female officers and enlisted in your departments are hearby issued orders to report to Personnel for honorable discharge.”

All around the table, each department head’s notebook began chiming. “Those are the orders. Share that information with your female subordinates and send them on their way. They’ll have a week to clear base quarters if they reside there. Personnel will take care of everything.”

Flynn was relieved. The Immaculata had been male only from the start, the seventh year of President Master’s legal presidency. He’d hate to face good subordinates with that news. The other people didn’t look happy but said nothing. There was nothing to say.

He wasn’t so relived at the next announcement.

“Lastly, the transport company we’ve been using for prisoner transport has lost their contract. Now we’ll be using Weyland Industries beginning Monday. They’ll also be responsible for prisoner feeding. You’ll find new forms available to you starting Friday. Call Contracting if you have any issues. That will be all. All hail President Marshall.”

“All hail,” each man at the table responded in unison. Then they all rose and left the room.

Outside the command admin, Captain Dean Joyce caught up with Flynn. He checked the hall around them and in a soft voice asked, “Isn’t Weland Industries owned by the President’s sister?”

Flynn gave a short nod. “Yep.”

“Isn’t that nepotism? At the least, conflict of interest?”

Flynn gave Joyce a look, eyebrow raised.

Joyce took the hint. “None of my business, I guess. I just hope they feed these poor bastards better than the last company. I wouldn’t feed that swill to my dad’s pigs.”

A short shake of the head was Flynn’s response. “Seventeen hundred calories is the regulation. Doesn’t say anything about the gourmet level.”

“I guess.” Joyce dropped back and turned right into his corridor.

Flynn agreed with the guy, but he wasn’t going to say so. Too many cameras and out in public spaces especially, microphones too. He was sure his office was bugged. He was also sure his car was too. No matter. He’d joined the Army fifteen years ago. He’d pledged to support and defend the country every four years since then. He’d been chosen to join the Immaculata. An elite force, he’d been told. Part of Homeland Security, helping to combat attacks against the United States.

And so it seemed, the first couple of years. They’d rounded up several groups identified by the FBI and the CIA as fomenting dissent and radicalizing youth, especially in urban areas. He thought he’d been doing some good. Now, this wasn’t what he’d signed up for but there didn’t seem to be any way out. His own wife was Army. While he didn’t have any female members, his wife worked in Communications, the squadron commander, for Pete’s sake. Dinner was going to be unpleasant.

At his office he reviewed the interviews for the day. He was a third of the way through the list when a name popped out at him. Zuri Flynn. His breath caught in his throat. It was his sister-in-law. His heart sank. Her family was Jewish. His brother was going to be crushed. He loved Zuri.

Flynn closed his eyes. Thank God there were no children. That would be too much. Why did they put her in his interview room? A message, he was sure. If it could happen to his family, it could happen to anyone. He leaned over and grabbed his trashcan and vomited. Better to get it out of his system now. He wouldn’t be able to offer any emotion in the room. Zuri would be devastated.

Thank you for reading.

Phoenix Fan Fusion T’s, Friday Flash Fiction, Gardening, Payson Book Festival: Monday Blog Post

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Newest News:

After the show, I began showing some of the t-shirts from the Phoenix Fan Fusion. Above is one for this week.

If you read my Friday Flash Fiction, you know that last Friday, I began a serial story. I’m calling it The Party. I don’t generally get into politics on my blog, there’s just no reason to upset people with my opinions of things. However, some rhetoric lately has gotten me thinking of ways what’s being discussed can go horribly wrong. I’m not the first author to think about these things. Many authors over the last few generations have done the same. Animal Farm, Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451, are just three of many stories that have looked at the political arena of their time and turned to “what if”. I’m no Aldous Huxley or George Orwell, but The Party is my take on what I see and hear in the current news. So, I guess, this is a warning. If you don’t care for dystopian stories, give The Party a pass.

As of Sunday, my newest tomato plants are surviving. The zucchini has been chewed but is still hanging in there. We’ve bought a hav-a-hart trap and so far, have caught one chipmunk. We transported him up to a wild stream, where there will be plenty of water for it. There are two more chipmunks to catch but I haven’t seen them since we caught the first one. After we brought the trap back from the stream, we reset it. A couple of hours later, we saw two squirrels standing next to the trap. Laughing at it I suppose, as it’s too small to catch them. They’re next on my list.

Giveaways:

I’m gearing up for the Summer giveaway. I see other authors signing in and getting their prizes ready. I’ll let you know when it goes live.

Where will I Be?:

The Payson Book Festival 2019. Mark your calendars for July 20th. Go to www.paysonbookfestival.org for all of the details! We have nearly 90 authors, lots of speakers in both the Fireside and Maple rooms, and again, the silent auction. Want to just make a donation? Go to our Paypal.me page, Payson Book Festival.

Newsletter Sign Up:

Click here to sign up for my newsletter. I’ve put sign-up gifts on the regular and the SciFi/Fantasy and the Cozy Mystery newsletter sign-ups. That’s right. If you sign up for my newsletter you get a free story from me. Be prepared for fun and contests! Click on the video link for a short video from me. Hear what I’m working on. Join my “A” Team to be the first to read my books and hear what new books are coming.

Don’t forget to follow my blog, too. Different material goes in the blog as in the newsletter. You can share both, so spread the word!

Newest Book Release:

Gold Dreams released May 13th, 2019. It is only up on Amazon, at the moment. I’ll let everyone know when the print version is up and is up on the other platforms. You can also see all my books on https://conniesrandomthoughts.com/my-books-and-other-published-work/. If you’ve read any of my books, please drop a short, honest, review on the site where you bought it or on Goodreads or BookBub. Your review is critical to help me promote the books to other readers. Thanks in advance.

Thank you for reading my blog. Like all of the other work I do as an author, it takes time and money. If you enjoy this Monday blog and the Friday free story and the recipe I put up on the 25th of every month, consider donating to https://www.paypal.me/ConniesRandomThought. I appreciate any donation to help support this blog.

The Party: Chapter 1 Bill Brown

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From Deviant Art https://www.deviantart.com/mrwicked/art/SWAT-5990228, SWAT_by_mrwicked_d3ke38

I’m exploring possibilities based on things I am seeing on the news and comments made by some people in the government. Yes, this is political. I offer you trigger warnings for language and sexual and racist comments. Future episodes may also contain rape, abuse, and other unpleasant things.

If you think this is all too much, you’re not paying attention.

Bill Brown

“Best thing to happen.” I had waved my beer to emphasize my point. I knew some of these people didn’t agree, but what the hell. “I know you all think it was wrong for President Master’s to rig the system then declare martial law. But he’s in his fifth year now and the crime rate in the whole country has dropped to nearly zero.”

“But Bill, really, it’s not a democracy anymore.” Dave Apple said. “What have we lost?”

“Not a damn thing,” Bruce Leightner said. He sipped from his beer can. “Everybody has a job. Like Bill said, crime is down, and the criminal class has been rounded up and taken care of.”

The circle of men mostly nodded. Dave was one who shrugged. “Still. Didn’t seem right to me that within a month, all the black people were rounded up and put into the camps. I mean, my doctor was rounded up. I haven’t found as good an orthopedic surgeon since he was taken.”

Bruce laughed. “All the chinks, too. I was so sick of one of the gals at work.” He spat on the ground. “Could do nothing wrong. The boss loved her.” He snorted. “Now the rest of us have a chance to get ahead. What a cunt. I’m glad she’s gone.”

Dave shook his head and wandered off. Bruce laughed again and pointed his chin at the guy and in a low voice said, “Glad he’s gone.”

The rest laughed with him.

Bill Brown looked around his yard. He’d invited everyone over for a watch party. President Masters was going to be on in half an hour and talk about what was next for the country. Bill thought the man had everything lined up just right. He wasn’t a big fan of Bruce, but he had a point. With all the blacks and Asians and Hispanics rounded up, there was a lot more opportunity.

He left the group to make sure his big screen didn’t have any glare on it and that the wifi was working. The tv was already tuned to the right channel, though that didn’t make a difference anymore. Whenever the President spoke, it was televised, live, on every channel.

They were in front of the tv at the end of the speech. They’d all cheered at the president’s promise of a new moon base within the next four years. Jobs for everybody, they all said. Bill looked at his wife, Mara. Aerospace and rocketry had been her career, before the president’s take over. Now, she was a stay at home wife. Unless declared a national security asset, women lost their jobs to men. It wasn’t really fair, he thought. She was excellent at her job. But you had to go with the flow, right?

That’s when the garden gate banged open and SWAT team members came rushing in. Women and children screamed with fright as more men came pouring from the house doors as well. Men, women and children were separated into groups. The commander, the word Immaculata, stenciled on his dark green uniform, stepped forward with a pad.

“The following people are hereby collected for deportation: Dave Apple, Jenna Apple, Anna Apple, Griffin Apple.

Bill was stunned. What was happening? The Apple’s were good people! The list of names went on. Then, his heart nearly stopped. Bill Brown, Devon Brown, Caitlin Brown. Mara began screaming and tried to reach her children. The Macs held her in place while the ones guarding the children pulled Devon and Caitlin forward. He tried to hurry to his children, but the Macs pulled him over to where Dave Apple was standing, pale and shaking.

The commander stopped reading names. “You are all designated racially impure. You will be sent to the camps and put to work for the good of the country.

Bill looked at his friends. Bruce was smirking. That asshole, Bill thought. Standing there with my beer in his hands. But he didn’t have time to think about that anymore. He was shoved along the grass to the gate and into a big, windowless van.

The ride was long and when the door slammed open, he was hurried forward to a warehouse-looking place. It was humiliating. Stripped, showered, dressed in gray canvas with a number stenciled on the back, they were tattooed on the arm with the same number. “Memorize it,” the tattooist said. Then he was moved at a trot to stand in a large open room and wait.

One at a time they were brought to a room with three Immaculata at a table. He was shoved into a chair.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the middle one said, Captain bars were on his shoulders.

“No, I don’t.” Bill was cuffed.

“You’ll address him as Captain, scum.”

“Captain,” Bill said in a hurry. “I don’t know.”

“Records indicate you’re part black.” The Captain was reading from an electronic pad. “Part of your DNA test.”

Bill was confused. “What DNA test?”

“At your last checkup. A sample was sent for purity checking.”

“You can’t do that! It’s against…” He was smacked in the head again.

The Captain sighed. “It’s not against any law. Every person is being checked for purity. Been going on for over a year at any check-up.”

Bill didn’t know what to say. “How can I be…”

“Doesn’t matter,” the Captain said.

“My kids?”

“Black, of course, since you are.”

“We’ll be together, right? Caitlin is only six. She’ll be scared. Devon too.”

“There’s no place where you’re going for children. They’ll be sent to their own camps, educated, cared for.”

“My wife?”

“She isn’t black. She will be fined for marrying outside her race. I suspect your house and property will cover the fine.”

Bill didn’t know what to say. His brain wasn’t working. How could this be happening? “But, I’m a supporter of President Masters. I donated.”

“That’s noted. Your work assignment will reflect that.” He nodded to the guard. “Take him away.”

Thank you for reading.

Tornado: Flash Fiction Friday Post

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Tornado by sh4d0wqu33n https://www.deviantart.comsh4d0wqu33nartTornado-20808879

Tornado by sh4d0wqu33n
https://www.deviantart.com/sh4d0wqu33n/art/Tornado-20808879

It’s become a thing. Really. It never used to happen my mom said. Never. It was the mid-west, she told me. Kansas, Oklahoma, those kinds of places. Not Arizona. Not Nevada or Utah. But now—now we all have storm shelters.

It’s bad right now. Spring. Right. The worst. The sirens go off nearly daily. We grab our stuff, head down into the shelter. Last month we were down here for three days. One tornado after the other. I don’t complain. I live, well, lived, in a trailer park. There were dugout shelters but not as good as the one here at school. There’s water in this one. And vid. The teachers want to hear the news, but we get to watch the latest stuff too. It’s not so bad.

I haven’t told them mom was lost in the one last month. She was high and didn’t hear the sirens I guess. The whole trailer park was wiped out. I told admin she was in California. They’re lettin’ me stay here. For now. No matter. Graduation is in a month and a half. I’ll be able to do my own thing after that. Momma called me Heidi Bateson. After my dad’s mom, I guess. She never said.

Global warming they called it. I don’t care. That was twenty years ago. What’s that to me now? The planet, they say on the vid, is in a major drought. All of the weather patterns have gone haywire. What’s that to me? I’m a poor kid from a poor area. No one gives a crap about the likes of us. I just need to be smart. Stay in the groove that will keep me in food and shelter. The geeks have it easy. They’re always talking about gettin’ on with the big gloms. I guess. There has to be somethin’ else valuable.

Space is an option. I’m healthy. They need miners. I see the ads all the time. Then there’s the planetary ships. I’m not a geek, but they need healthy women, right? Go somewhere, like they say, the old Earth. Like it used to be.

Acting. I’m acting all the damn time. I could do that. Get rich. They couldn’t do anything to me then. I’d have all the best. A gold-plated shelter. Plenty of food and water. Any vid channel I want.

The teachers all drone on and on about what has to be done next. Like it makes a difference. Like anyone cares. It’s always gonna be like this, right? Desert forever. I’m a red-head, I use my sunblock just like they say. No sunburn for me. Not many red-heads now, I hear. All the better to be an actress, right?

My friend, Bectie, is one of the geeks. Don’t know why she likes to hang with me but she’s cool. She says I should stay away from the boys. There’ll be a big market for a girl like me. Genetics, she called it. I guess cause there’s not a lot of red-heads. Maybe that’ll be a card for the planetary ships. Stay cool, she told me. I believe her. She’s ultra-smart. Her parents work for the gloms. One of the biggest. All into the planetary ships and the food tanks. She’ll have a spot, she says. She’ll take me with her. I play hard to get but she’s right. And she’s cute. I can dig that.

I do have to try and get one thing. My mom had a gold chain. A locket, she called it. Kept it in a secret place in the trailer. I’d like to get that. Gold is valuable. Not much left to be found. So I need that. Had a picture of my granma and granpa. I never met ‘em. Died before I was born. Ma said they died of heart break. I don’t know what that means. She said their ranch died. Not sure what that means either. But no matter. If I get that chain, I’ll have gold. Maybe enough to be an actress.

As soon as the storm ends, I’m headed to the trailer. Some of it must be left, am I right? Some of it?

###

Announcement over the school loudspeakers:

That’s it for todays activities. Now, a roll call of yesterday’s student losses.

Howard Dukelow

Ethel Lipowitz

Miriam Skrownek

Heidi Bateson

Donnie Ford

Steve Barca

Tina Morales

May God take mercy on their souls.