Monday, September 23, 2013

Autumn Train Blog Hop


Do you have a favorite fall memory linked to a train? What do you imagine you would see if you were riding a train in the fall? Join the authors of Wild Child publishing and Freya’s Bower as we Take an Autumn Train Ride through our blogs.

Prizes will include


  • Four $50 gift certificates (two for Wild Child and two for Freya's Bower)
  • An awesome swag package that includes:
    • Bookmarks
    • Books
    • Wild Child T-shirt and mug
    • Wild Child and Freya's Bower bags
    • Four handmade, crochet coasters by Kit Wylde
    • An autographed copy of Rosemary and Rue by Seanan McGuire
    • A rare DVD copy of the Matheson/Furst classic "Up The Creek" (lovingly used)
    • One ebook copy of Nita Wick’s short story, The Dream (previously published as part of a Freya’s Bower anthology.)
    • Book trading cards
    • Signed Dangerous Waters poster
    • copy of "Battle for Blood: The Blood Feud"
    • the winner’s name as a character in Kissa Starling’s next sweet romance story.
    • A Yankee Candle
    • and more...

See Bottom Of Post To Enter To Win
Short story (flash fiction)
By Kyra Dune

I sat on the train staring out the window at the trees. Reds, oranges, and golds; the trees in their fall clothes waiting for winter. Like me, though my own clothes were not so bright and festive. But then, I felt neither bright nor festive so the dull browns and grays suited me fine.
I hated the trees for facing the coming snows brightly arrayed like young girls at a party. I was a young girl, but no party waited for me at the end of my long and winding journey. A journey that had begun in death.
My mother was a nurse. She was all the family I knew. I often worried about her going to the sick camps with all those diseased people. "Don't worry so, Anna," she would say with a smile. "Nurses don't get sick." Only she was wrong. Nurses do get sick. They die and leave their teenaged daughters to board trains to strange lands to live with relatives they never even knew existed.
On the platform under the trees, groups of people were bidding goodbye to their loved ones. Hugging and crying and carrying on as if it were the end of the world. I hated them too. What did they know of the end of the world? Of sorrow? Of goodbye? Goodbye was not a hug farewell at a train station, it was watching your mother's coffin being lowered into the ground while the gray Autumn skies poured misery.
Other passengers began to board the train. Chattering, smiling, even through their tears, they took their seats with faces eager for the journey ahead. I wanted to jump up, to scream, to tell them they had no right to look to winter with anticipation while my life was disintegrating around me. 
I remained in my seat, looking out the window at the trees as the train began to roll.
By Kyra Dune
YA fantasy
Micayta's world has long been gripped in the thrall of an endless winter that has grown worse with the passing of time. Life is a constant struggle. Then catastrophe strikes the small town in which she lives, thrusting Micayta and her brother Pytaki alone into the snow laden countryside. To keep herself and her brother alive will take all the strength that she has.
Then a mysterious stranger appears to complicate matters. Tech has an amazing story to tell, but is any of it true? Old wounds and betrayals make Micayta slow to trust, but without Tech she and her brother will never make it across the countryside alive. Through bandits, wolves, and snowstorms, the three struggle their way to the city of Phadra. But the real danger lies within the city walls, where Micayta becomes a player in a deadly game with a dark-eyed mage.
Nothing is what it seems.
As the truth unravels, Micayta finds herself drawn into a struggle much bigger than she ever dreamed. Choices must be made and sides taken. But the question of who to trust is one not easily answered. Micayta will have to open her heart and find a way to let someone else in, or the flames that destroyed her home will consume the world.


Micayta shrank back from the flames, retreating as far up the alley as she could go. Behind her was a twelve-foot stone fence, with a ten-foot drift of snow pushed up against it. No
way out forward or backward. No doors in either building leading from this alley. No place to run.
“Don’t panic,” she whispered. There was a knotty feeling in her stomach and her hands were shaking from more than the cold. Part of her just wanted to curl up in a little ball and give in, but that was no option. She had to get to her brother.
The bakery was nothing but a blank brick facade, but the old temple had a single window about ten feet up the wall. If she could somehow get to it, she might have a chance.
She looked from the snow drift to the window. They were the same height, but the window was maybe a foot closer to the entrance of the alley. To reach it, she’d have to jump sideways and catch hold of the edge of the windowsill.
Glancing over her shoulder at the rising flames, Micayta decided to take the chance.
The snow was packed tight, but still soft. She’d have to be quick to keep herself from sinking in. Micayta backed away, intensely aware of the fire at her back. She took a breath, focused, and burst into a sprint.
She raced up the snow drift so fast her boots barely left a print. At the top, she kicked one foot against the fence to give her something to brace against, then sprang sideways and caught hold of the windowsill with one hand.
She hung there a moment, breath frosting in the chill air, then gripped the windowsill with her other hand and pulled herself up and over.
It was dark inside the old temple and the air filled with a stale, musty scent. Micayta stepped cautiously. There must be stairs leading to the first floor and she had no desire to fall down them.
The outside sounds were muffled, but she still felt the occasional vibration beneath her feet. It was like a nightmare, but real. Too real. Dragons were supposed to be fairy tales, stories, not real fire breathing monsters. How could this be?
“Focus,” Micayta told herself, “must focus.” At the moment the how and why of things didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this building and finding her brother. A creaking sound made her pause. It seemed to be coming from directly below and growing quickly from a slight noise to a groan. The floor shifted and before she could decide which way to move, it dropped out from beneath her feet.

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Please visit these sites for more chances to win, the more you visit the more chances you have to win. We have 46 participating authors. You can stop at as many or as little blogs as you wish. At each stop, you will find two chances to enter per blog to win some awesome prizes. If you visit all, that’s 92 chances to win! There will be five, lucky winners.


Take the Blog Train and Visit These Blogs for more chances to win


                                                                      The Blog Zone





  1. Touching and suggestive story. Thanks for sharing!