To Hike or Not to Hike

August 3, 2017

This story has bugged me for the past year. In part, because I can relate. I have hiked the Appalachian Trail, and as a youngster, I wandered from home and became lost in the woods.

Starting on April 23, 2013, 66-year-old Geraldine Largay walked over a thousand miles from Harpers Ferry in West Virginia on the Appalachian Trail (AT). After her traveling companion, Jane Lee, left for home on June 30 to attend to a family emergency, Largay hiked into the densest forest of the AT and disappeared. According to witnesses, Largay left a shelter in Maine to continue her hike north and went missing on or about July 22.

Ms. Lee told investigators that Largay had a poor sense of direction and had taken a wrong turn on multiple occasions, adding her friend could become flustered and combative when she made mistakes. On October 14, 2015, a logging surveyor discovered Largay’s remains less than a mile from the trail. She had chronicled the last days of her life in a notebook and never-sent text messages. The wayward hiker found higher ground but was unsuccessful in acquiring a cell signal. One text message to her husband indicated Largay had stepped off the trail to relieve herself and had become lost. Multiple agencies hunted for the hiker by foot, horse, and the air. Her written chronicle details the last 3-4 weeks of her life as she waited for rescue. She eventually died from exposure and starvation.

I applaud Largay’s hiking feat right up to the point where she sat down at her campsite and waited for rescue and barring that, her death. Rescue, to me, implies that she was incapable of helping herself. While she had some medical issues, necessitating medication to control her anxiety, but when faced with a decision to save herself, she chose otherwise. I can only imagine what went through her mind as she sat surrounded by dense forest and underbrush, waiting. It seems debilitating anxiety didn’t affect her fight for survival as there was evidence of her attempted tries to use technology and make herself visible from the air. Obviously, Largay wasn’t the proverbial deer in the headlights, but why didn’t she simply walk to safety?

Like Largay, I spent six weeks in my youth on the AT, walking north, always north. Hikers walk from the sun up to sun set. There’s nothing else to do. As I trekked north, the sun rose on the right side of the trail and set on the left side of the trail. Does the AT always meander due north and south? No, but in general, yes it does. Even if Largay couldn’t remember which side of the trail she stepped off to relieve herself, a single day of walking either east or west and two days in the reverse direction would have crossed the trail. Ms. Lee didn’t mention if her friend used a compass or not. I didn’t use a one either, but I was alert to my surroundings. At worse, Mrs. Largay could have walked toward the sunrise in the morning and with her back to the sun in the afternoon. This would have guaranteed her a chance at crossing a road or river within the three to four-week survival time frame she endured in the woods.

The AT uses a system of trail blazes set up to keep hikers on the right path. This is the same system used over two hundred years ago by our forefathers as they explored new territory. The AT’s blazing system should have been an adequate example for Largay to move in a straight line either east or west from her campsite and return before dark. She could have eventually moved along her self-blazed trail and set up camp further away from where she camped. If only.

One day in my youth I got lost. When I was seven, and in a fit of panic, I ran headlong into the woods surrounding my parent’s summer house in western Michigan. I didn’t believe my brother that the sounds coming from the direction of the house weren’t a herd of bears (or lions or tigers? Oh my!). Way back in the 60’s (not the 1860’s) my parents lived in the middle of a forested nowhere. There were a few homes within a half mile or there about, but not in the direction of my flight. I asked my father once when I was a big kid (aged 4-5) what I should do if I got lost in the woods around our house. His answer was simple. Walk in one direction until I found a road. If I came upon a two-track, I should follow it to a road. I may not have followed his advice at first during my head long flight away from the bears that I thought were chasing me, but after an hour or two, I found my head. My grandmother discovered me as I walked along a two-track in search of a road. At first sight of her car, I hid behind a bush, because I thought the teal colored 1950’s Ford was a bear. Remember, I was seven.

My point is, at the age seven, I knew how to find my way out of the woods. It was a different time. Back then, I was responsible for keeping track of and get myself to T-ball practice and games. Within a year I would ride my bike two miles to play ball. So, playing in the woods without adult supervision was normal extracurricular activity. My four-year-old sister was with my brother and me.

In full disclosure, my AT hiking partner and I did get turned around once. Imagine the hilarity on meeting fellow hikers coming toward us on the trail and us trying to convince them that they were hiking in the wrong direction. Classic, classic.

My prayers go out to Mrs. Largay and her family.


Here’s an Opportunity to Read The Absence of Heat from Martinus’ Newest Realease

March 8, 2016

We Were Heroes, Now Available!

We Were Heroes, Martinus Publishing’s latest anthology, is now available!  Check out theKindle Edition Here, or order a print copy from the publisher.  Amazon and other retail outlets will also have the print version available in the coming days.

For those of you who want a free taste of this exciting anthology, Karl G. Rich’s contribution, The Absence of Heat, can be found here.  It is just one of the many tantalizing tales in this collection of old, retired, and off-beat heroes!

As for future Martinus Publishing works, the much-anticipated “Altered Europa” is next on the list, featuring alternate history stories focusing on historical Europe.  See what might have been when this collection hits the market later in 2016!

We Were Heroes Author Interview by Martin Ingram of Martinus Publishing

January 18, 2016

Hello, and welcome to an all new series of author interviews.  The long anticipated anthology “We Were Heroes” will be coming out in 2016, and in preparation for this release we’ll be running interviews of various contributors.

MTI:  Today I’m interviewing a returning contributor, Karl G. Rich.  This time around, he has contributed a fantastic piece entitled The Absence of Heat.  Thank you for being here for another great interview.

KGR:  You’re welcome. As always, I’m at your complete disposal. That is except for home remodeling because I’m also up to my eyeballs with demo and rebuilding.

MTI:  For those of our readers who haven’t encountered our previous parleys, how about we start off by having you introduce yourself.  Tell the new readers a little bit about yourself.

KGR:  I’m a native Floridian transplanted to the Great Lakes region. I am fascinated with shipwrecks of which there are up to 6000 individual cases in the Great Lakes. It is what drives my current novels as I develop my own lore of life and death between the wave tops.

MTI:  The Absence of Heat is appearing in We Were Heroes, an anthology devoted to the theme of aging, retired, or out of their element superheroes and villains.  Tell us a little bit about your contribution to this collection.

KGR:  I have a particular understanding of ageing and retirement. I hate to say it, but I resemble some of the caricatures on the proposed cover, especially the character with the teeth flying out of his mouth. I’m not an aficionado of comic books or their heroes, but I remember as a child identifying with the villains. Not necessarily the megalomaniacal characters, but the toadies and secondary bad-guys.

MTI:  Who’s your favorite superhero (or villain)?

KGR:  My favorite super hero is a tossup between Spiderman and Ironman. Personally, I always loved how Stan Lee allowed that little slit Ironman breathed through to be drawn with expression. Seriously, how does a metal face either smile or frown? On the other side, the Green Goblin as drawn gave me nightmares.

MTI:  If you, yourself, could have any superpower, what would it be?

KGR:  To change people’s minds. Think about it. Good or evil, take your pick.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you’re working on right now?

KGR:  I’ve completed my first novel, The Mad King of Beaver Island. It is under submission at a small publisher in the UP of Michigan. I submitted to them because they publish other non-fiction works similar to my novel. In that vein I’m revising the second novel in that series.

MTI:  Other than The Absence of Heat appearing in We Were Heroes, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

KGR:  At this point, I’ve stopped writing short stories so I can work on my novels.  On the other hand, I’m always looking for other venues to submit previously completed works.

MTI:  On a lighter note, have you watched any good tv lately?

KGR:  TV is the bane of my existence. I watch sports.

MTI:  How about music?

KGR:  I like music, but I can barely listen to any of the new tunes. There are a few artists I can listen to like Bruno Mars or Meghan Trainor,  but I tend to listen to the “Oldie, but Moldy” style of music.

MTI:  What was the last movie you watched, and what did you think of it?

KGR:  I don’t have a lot of time for movies, so I’m picky. I only go to movies that are big screen affairs like Avatar. The last movie I went to was Interstellar with Matthew McConaughey. It had an interesting concept, but hardly original. The best part of the movie was when a hatch blew up on a space ship. The sound quality in the theater of the explosion was outstanding. Right now, I’m trying to find time to see the next Star Wars installment. Weird fact: I was on my first date with my first wife at the debut of Star Wars in 1977. There were less than twenty people in the theater.

MTI:  Readers love samples.  Do you happen to have a story excerpt you’d like to share with us today?

KGR:  Well, sure. Let me dig deep into my trusty flash drive…*bang, slam, crinkle-crinkle* oh, here it is…

Oh, since this is out of context. This is 1763, Great Lakes region and Wasaga is a Native American.


“Why?” The question hung in the air.

No answer came.

Wasaga opened his eyes as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the mountains to the east. Growing up, he never dreamed or at least dreamed little enough to affect his consciousness. Decades after achieving manhood and over the past month the dreams have never stopped. He dreamed of a white-winged canoe ripped to pieces and faces of white men that deep down he sensed he should know. At the end of every dream, a spirit god told him to travel west.

Different spirit gods visited him nightly. Michi Kinagog, the spirit father of all people invaded his dreams the most and was the most insistent on Wasaga journeying west. The most pleasant of intruders was Ogima Nibi, a spirit god of the Lakes. Wasaga rarely thought of her because he was a mountain dweller.

“Wasaga.” A soft voice and lips brushed his ear as he slept.

He envisioned a pair of alluring eyes and swept up corners of a feminine mouth as he slept. A hand jostled his shoulder and he awoke to the same pair of golden eyes that trespassed in his dreams. While sleeping in the hollow of a tree gave him shelter, it did not allow him access to retreat.

“We must speak.” Ogima offered her hand to help Wasaga to his feet.

It was not yet dawn and the soft morning light added a halo to her head. Around Wasaga’s campsite the forest animals started their daily search for food and morning ablutions to the new day.

As Wasaga crawled out of the tree he noticed Ogima’s swollen lower abdomen.How wonderful! Then he considered the implication of gods having children. If the gods need to have children, are they truly immortal?

Ogima reached out to lift Wasaga’s chin and redirected his eyes away from her pregnant belly. “I see you have noticed.”

Wasaga’s face reddened. “Forgive my rudeness, Lady of the Lake.” He dropped his gaze to her engorged bosom, then realized what he was doing, and quickly looked her in the eye.

“Maji is loose upon the world,” she said. “It is Our fault and We have indulged him too far.” Ogima caressed her belly and smiled. “I don’t intend to spoil this child like his brother.”

The eternal trickster is Ogima Nibi’s son? Wasaga tried to remember everything his grandfather taught him about the gods, but the years had dimmed his memory. The lore had been handed down to him as a youngster and he hadn’t considered the gods until recently when the dreams started to disturb his sleep. Something tickled the back of his mind. It was what his grandfather told him the night before the old man walked out of camp with another short, old man, and was never seen again. “Is it true the spirit gods only create children with the intercession of a human?”

This time it was Ogima’s turn to blush. “Yes.”

Wasaga quickly glanced at the woman from head to toe. She had all the qualities a man desired. Wide, baby-carrying hips to bring many healthy sons into the world and strong muscular arms to lift and carry everything he needed to survive. The only down side Wasaga could perceive was her strong mind. A man like him needed a follower to do his bidding not to argue a point.

“Not on your life.” She sniffed.

“Don’t worry,” said Wasaga, his voice held derision, but his raised eyebrow said the opposite.  What would it be like to sire…and be a father of a god?

Ogima held her stomach again. “Death,” she replied. “I was weak for a moment, now the father of this child has been consumed by the politics of the spirit gods.” She swallowed noisily.

“I’m sorry.”

“I did not love him. I was…” Ogima stared up at the sky. “…overwhelmed, and now he shares a spot with Michi Kinagog.”

What manner of man can overcome and seduce a god? Wasaga imagined a man a head taller than himself, shoulders as wide as an axe handle, teeth that can crush boulders and loins that are the envy of a bull moose. His stones reflexively clenched and withdrew into warmth.

“He was not what you think.” Ogima grinned demurely. “But that is not why I am here. Maji…” Her lips tightened. “Maji was banned from Us. We love him dearly, but he is who he is. This world is between Us and his world.”

“Pardon me, Lady, but I have been taught the tradition of the gods,” interrupted Wasaga.

Ogima stared down Wasaga’s petulance. “Yes? Were you taught Magi could open a door from his world to yours? All of the souls he has captured are waiting to return to this existence. They are vile, nasty creatures that no longer resemble the humans they once were.” The beautiful woman’s mouth curled as if to spit out sewage that had suddenly appeared on her tongue.

“I’m only a man. What do the affairs of gods have to do with me?”

“Maji used your ancestor in a curse. The curse is a lit twig during a summer’s drought. The forest is dry and the ground cover is thick and ready to burn. Maji has thrown the fire into the brush and only those involved in the curse can put the flames out.”

The first rays of dawn streaked out from behind a mountain and Ogima gripped his upper arm. “Travel west to the land of the Fox.”

Wasaga snorted awake. His right bicep muscle twinged. On his arm were four red marks where Ogima had gripped him in his…Was it a dream?


MTI:  Well, that certainly caught my attention, and I’m sure there are plenty of our readers who would like to read more.  For those interested, they can pick up “We Were Heroes,” or many other Martinus anthologies that contain his excellent work.

Interview by Martin Ingham for Martinus Publishing

November 11, 2014

I want to give a shout out to Martin Ingham of Martinus Publishing for this interview.


To Hell with Dante” is a collection of cynical afterlife stories, ranging from comedic genius to dark surrealism.  To help kick off this fine anthology, I’ll be conducting interviews with many of the contributors.  Today I’m interviewing Karl G. Rich, the excellent author who contributed the story “Everybody Goes to Heaven, and Then…”  Thank you for being here, Mr. Rich

KARL G. RICH:  Thank you, Martin, it’s a pleasure, but please call me Kregger. Karl Rich is the name I give the barista down at Starbucks since my real name seems both unpronounceable and incapable of being spelled correctly. Karl’s an alter ego I have used since the Stone Age when I worked in the restaurant biz.

MTI:  Of course, Kregger.  We’ve done this before, but for readers who didn’t catch our last interview, why not tell them a little about yourself?

KREGGER:  First and foremost, I am a grandfather of six. Being Papa seems to have swallowed all my other identities. As a young adult, before kids and my current wife–on entering a restaurant, instead of smoking/nonsmoking, I would ask for the “No Kids” section. Children weren’t my favorite people, but now my favorite people call me grandpa.

At work I’m a healthcare professional. I take painstaking care not to talk about work with strangers. This is due to their reactions to the tonnage of blood, gore and pain I deal with on a daily basis. One time my brother-in-law asked me, “What was the worse thing I have ever seen?” I described in detail how a prolapsed rectum nearly ate an intern in an operating room. Thank God, I caught the young doctor by his surgical booties before he disappeared forever. Can anyone imagine that eulogy? Now, my brother-in-law knows better than to ask such silly questions.

MTI:  Your story, “Everybody Goes to Heaven, and Then…” appears in To Hell with Dante.  Tell us a little bit about that.  What’s the general idea behind it?

KREGGER:  I spend a lot of time writing about heaven and hell. I don’t believe in either place as popularized in the media or religion, but the perception of both places allow for a variety of stories. Imbedded within most of my stories are retellings of old jokes. In “Everybody Goes to Heaven, and Then…” I used a classic internet joke with some of my recurring characters to illustrate choices people make. In death as in life bad choices and bad decisions lead to bad things. Right now, I’m trying to shoehorn a joke about not stepping on ducks/bunnies in heaven into a story, but I’ve yet to figure it out.

MTI: Does your story hold any special significance, perhaps seeking to provoke some thoughts about the afterlife, or was it just a lot of fun fiction?

KREGGER:  Just plain fun. I’ve given up trying to convince anyone of anything. I write for fun.

MTI:  Okay, on a totally unrelated note, if you could meet and talk with any one deceased person, who would it be?

KREGGER:  Honestly, the first person that came to my mind was Adolph Hitler. Not because I admire or idolize the man, but to ask WTF were you thinking? In what world would a man or group of people think it proper to exterminate any other group? I believe his answer would probably be the world of the 21st Century.

MTI:  Shifting back to your writing, can you tell us a little about what you’re working on right now?

KREGGER:  I have a Sci-fi project that is an extension of my story in the Veterans of the Future Wars anthology called, “I am Drone.” It is a futuristic thriller set in a post-nuclear-war America with human drones used as weapons of mass destruction to safe guard what’s left of America.

MTI:  Oh, I want to read that one!  Keep me apprised of your progress with that project.  Other than your piece appearing in To Hell with Dante, do you have any other stories being published in the near future?

KREGGER:  I’m waiting on a submission to Vineyard Press for the Passions of Man anthology. I have one more submission called, “The Absence of Heat” slated for publication in the We Were Heros anthology by Martinus Publishing. This winter I will start querying for my novel, The Mad King of Beaver Island.

MTI:  Writers are often voracious readers.  Have you run across any good literature lately that you’d like to recommend?  You know, other than your own great work.

KREGGER:  I’m in the process of slogging through a compilation of twelve novels called, Deadly Dozen:12 Mysteries/Thrillers.  It’s something I picked up for learning style and technique of the genre. The stories are interesting, but I’m noticing a staccato style in the writing. Most of the books utilize very short chapters to move the story along. I couldn’t beat the price, and if I hate a story I skip to the next one. I readTimebound by this year’s ABNA winner. Here’s a clue to new writers—women are not male characters with breasts.  So write female characters with female traits. Today’s market, we are selling to, are women. Conversely, I suggest women writers not emasculate their characters as Rysa Walker did in Timebound. I also enjoyed Malone Hero by Edmond Wells, a long time contributor to Martinus Publishing.

MTI:  Other than writing, what would you call your favorite hobby or pastime?

KREGGER:  I always have been and will always be a sailor. It is the one thing that defines me till I die. At which time I will be submerged in Lake Michigan. I do not understand anyone that fears water.

MTI:  Once again, you have the attention of potential readers.  Do you have any words of wisdom to share with them, or possibly a sales pitch to encourage them to read more of your writing?

KREGGER:  I write because I enjoy the process.  I look forward to seclusion with the Margaritaville channel playing in the background. I prefer to sail alone for the same reason. I don’t have an eye for what is marketable. I only write what makes me happy. Happy people are successful by whatever criteria are used.

It is impossible to write every minute of the day, so on those off moments Martinus Publishing has multiple anthologies available as well as Martin Ingham’s newest creation, The Curse of Selwood.

MTI:  Well, thank you for the extra plug there.  Now, readers love free stuff, so here’s the start of your story in To Hell with Dante:

Clinton walked down a dirt footpath.  He was surrounded by dense fog and an overlying canopy of trees in dusky twilight. In front of him a white light beaconed through the fog, as if an opening to a tunnel.

“Where am I?” he muttered as he walked alone, squinting into the brush beside the path.

He walked for what seemed like an eternity through the impenetrable fog and foliage. He carried a pack and musket, but couldn’t recall camping, sleeping, or hunting. He halted and listened; the forest sounds were muted and soft.  Birds called to one another in the distance and since the wind had died there was silence from the trees above. The fog not only muffled his sight, but dampened his hearing as well. Everything smelled wet and decayed.

White woolen pants covered his legs down to his knees and wool socks protected his feet from chafing inside tall, black boots. Glancing down at the blouse he wore under his red military coat, he found dark-red blood stains, but no wounds.  For the hundredth time in as many days, he wondered, where had he come from?

He came to an intersection in the path. The path to the left and right led to a white light-filled tunnel. He spun around to find a similar portal to his rear. The tall man gripped his hands in prayer and fell to his knees. “God help me.” He bowed his head and shuddered.

MTI:  Thank you again, Kregger, for a fantastic interview.  Those who want to read the rest of his story, as well as 20 other cynical afterlife stories, can pick up To Hell with Dante!


Death by a Thousand Cuts

August 14, 2014

From a local news story. Chronicle-Telegram 8-12-14

“It’s a tragic case because this is a  guy who’s never done anything wrong in his life,” said Dan Wightman, a defense attorney  to Joseph Satava III.

What could Satava allegedly have done? First time DUI? Minor misdemeanor shoplifting? Child, animal or spousal abuse? Possibly, any number of things so minor it shouldn’t have been featured across a front page headline.

No, Mr Satava has been accused of embezzeling 2.9 million from a state wide insurance company since 1997. If Mr Satava had picked up a pack of gum and either knowingly or unknowingly didn’t pay for it, and the state put him on trial, that would be tragic and a miscarriage of justice.

Systematically bilking a company that I pay premiums to is well…criminal.

Lying to your family is the first cut of thousands to end your life.

I’ve needed lawyers in my life. I have railed against lawyers in my life. When you need one it’s good to have one.

Mr Wightman’s statement is not a single cut of thousands, but an ugly gash across the throat. Is there any wonder why our society regards lawyers poorly?


Mr Wightman gets paid for it.

It’s a funny business, if I lie to my customers, I lose customers.

He Ran Out of Days

August 6, 2014

One morning, I sat in bed drinking my first cup of coffee. Matt Lauer of the Today Show was interviewing Bill O’Reilly from the Fox Network. They were kvetching and laughing at each other.

My wife walked into the room, glanced at the tube, and said, “I wonder if anyone’s told him he’s lost his biggest fan?”

We both knew who she meant. One of the worst things anyone could do was to call her parents during the O’Reilly Hour. If she wanted to talk to her mother, that was fine, but my wife had better call during a commercial break. Heaven forbid if the ringing telephone and the monumental physical effort of reaching for the receiver broke Dave’s concentration of hanging on O’Reilly’s every word. The mantle of conservative dogma had settled firmly on my father-in-law’s shoulders.

Months back, I was listening with one ear to a conversation my wife was having with her mother. Bobbi held the receiver to her chest and asked, “What is roe-goo?”

“The stuff that holds fish eggs together?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Or spaghetti sauce. Spell it.”

“R-O-G-U-E. They’re reading a new book, going roe-goo.”

Now I knew we were in trouble. They were reading Sarah Palin’s new book. “That’s pronounced, roe-ga, as in rogue elephant or roguish good looks.”

Bobbi looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “She doesn’t know what that means.” She turned back to the phone, “Ma–!”

“It means going it alone or outside of the mainstream.” I muttered to no one listening. I remembered watching video of Palin wading out into a stream and blowing away a salmon with buckshot. If she used dynamite it would do less damage to the fish. My father-in-law loved fishing and hunting. The vision of a little slip of a woman in hip waders and a shotgun killing really big fish must have really got his juices flowing.

I went back to my paper. I’ve only known Dave for twenty years. He hasn’t liked any President in that time. Clinton was a cigar philanderer. Bush plunged us into a war, and Obama, well, I can’t imagine Dave thought there was any connection to him other than they were both male. If it wasn’t for Michelle, he probably would have wondered about that also.

Dave took a tumble a week or two back. He was life-flighted to Metro General because he sustained head trauma and resultant multiple brain bleeds. He hit the mark with the cognitive tests of name, date, year, and so forth until the doctors asked him, “Who is the President?” He thrust out his chin and pursed his lips. “George Bush,” he answered shaking his head.

Bobbi said from his bed side, “Dad, tell the truth.”

I can only hope I have as much grace in the end as my father-in-law had.


Martinus Publishing has come out with a new anthology. I’m somewhere in the middle. I shortened the lives of all my characters.

Available on Amazon

A science-fictional look at the deadly departed!

Amidst frightening tales of terror, there lie hidden questions: What does it feel like to be dead? What motivates undead beings to do what they do? What is the scientific rationale behind their existence? Why do they always seem so hungry, and seek the flesh of the living?

Explore the lesser-told stories of zombies and other undead individuals. Go beyond the horror and discover the true nature of people risen from the grave!

Stories by:
Emily Swaim, Edmund Wells, Ken MacGregor and Kerry G.S. Lipp, L. Rigdon, Mark Olivares, Joseph Conat, James S. Dorr, Karl G. Rich, Jay Wilburn, Tim Mucci, Neal Wooten, Ross Baxter, JL Mo, David Greske, Larry Hinkle, Barry Rosenberg, Lauren A. Forry, and Dan Gainor

Another Life, Shortened by One Day

June 24, 2014

My wife spent the night babysitting three of our five granddauhters. Seems innocent enough. Everything is fun and games until “Hide and Seek”. Our girls hide and Grandma seeks. Which is great because it affords my wife the time to empty the dishwasher or throw a load of clothes into the washer.

Rules: Outside the house is out-of-bounds.

Our kids have a decent size house, but after a few years of “Hide and Seek” Grandma has found pretty much all the possible hiding places.

That day was different.

My wife searched all the bedrooms, all the closets, the basement and play rooms. Typically, when she got close to the youngest, giggles would erupt and seeking would end.

That day, there were no giggles.

It only took fifteen minutes of seeking before Grandma became frantic.

She stood on the front stoop and yelled–nothing.

She stood in the backyard and yelled–nothing.

She stood in the house and yelled–nothing.

She dialed me, a hundred miles away, to help come search. I think by definition–that was frantic.

Through the garage door came three giggling girls.

They met…well, it wasn’t pretty.

A boatload of yelling, tears and time-outs later, Grandma settled down.

Someone forgot to tell her–an attached garage is part of a house.

She admitted later it was a pretty good hiding spot.

A week later, I saw the hair coloring bill.

The next time I’m in the dog house, I’m heading for the garage.


Martinus Publishing has included my latest story.

Available at Amazon

Currently, I am expanding “I am Drone” into a novel.

This is the anthology description at Amazon.

A daring admiral seeking to save Earth’s last colony ship from religious

A colonel with a heavy heart facing down an alien

A temporally-displaced sergeant seeking to rekindle freedom
in the 31st century…

These are the stories of the Future Wars, and the
Veterans who fight them. Within these pages lie tales of valor, of brave men and
women tanding their ground and serving their country in the world beyond

VFW is thrilling military sci-fi from the following authors:
Dan Gainor, Pete Aldin, Ted Blasche, Martin T. Ingham, Dave D’Alessio, Alex
Stevens, Joseph Conat, Neal Wooten, Karl G. Rich, Therese Arkenberg, David W.
Landrum, Michael Janairo, Mary Pletsch, Sam Kepfield, & Edmund Wells.

This is what I’m talking about!

March 29, 2014

Shortening Peoples Lives, One Day at a Time

TAMPA, Fla. — The two minute video titled, “Redneck Road Rage/Instant Karma” has been viewed over 1.3 million times in less than 24 hours.

“It was my instinct to just grab my phone and start recording. I saw the guy in the truck get behind me…he was tailgating me, and I was getting a little nervous.”

The Lakeland woman who took this now viral video doesn’t want us to use her name. When you see the driver of the black pickup truck’s reaction, you’ll understand why.

“He flicks the bird! [Then] he swerves into oncoming traffic, and I was like, ‘Oh, my God!'” she said.

The amateur videographer was just driving to work one morning along U.S. 41 in Gibsonton when she was about to make a turn onto Gibsonton Drive. You can hear her laughing when the driver of the truck ultimately slams his vehicle into a utility pole, skids across some nearby grass, and drives away.

Thanks to the video, authorities identified the driver of that black truck as 33-year old Jeffrey White. He was arrested for leaving the scene, reckless driving, and failing to wear a seatbelt.

“Honestly, looking back, I feel kind of bad for laughing. But at the same time, it’s kind of funny,” the woman said.

The driver said her intention was never for her “Instant Karma” to gain her instant fame. She just hopes something positive can come out of it.

“None of us are good drivers. We all have our problems. Maybe this is his opportunity for growth. Maybe he can use this as a learning tool and not go off the rails next time,” she said.

She also thanks her trusty iPhone for documenting the entire incident — just in case.

“You cover your butt, because nobody is going to do it for you.”

By the way. Even though she was driving and using her phone at the same time, she says officials even thanked her for taking the video, since it helped them locate the driver, based on his license plate.

Martinus Publishing has included my latest story.

February 19, 2014

Available at Amazon

Currently, I am expanding “I am Drone” into a novel.

This is the anthology description at Amazon.

A daring admiral seeking to save Earth’s last colony ship from religious

A colonel with a heavy heart facing down an alien

A temporally-displaced sergeant seeking to rekindle freedom
in the 31st century…

These are the stories of the Future Wars, and the
Veterans who fight them. Within these pages lie tales of valor, of brave men and
women tanding their ground and serving their country in the world beyond

VFW is thrilling military sci-fi from the following authors:
Dan Gainor, Pete Aldin, Ted Blasche, Martin T. Ingham, Dave D’Alessio, Alex
Stevens, Joseph Conat, Neal Wooten, Karl G. Rich, Therese Arkenberg, David W.
Landrum, Michael Janairo, Mary Pletsch, Sam Kepfield, & Edmund Wells.

Martinus Publishing Strikes Again!

February 19, 2014

Available at Amazon

I have three stories in this anthology.

This is the publisher’s description of the anthology.

A triple-threat of fantasy & sci-fi.

The Quest: Journeys of
discovery, the search for lost treasure, legendary artifacts, and unanswered
riddles of the ages.

Curses: From magical hexes to personal misfortune,
see how people deal with the worst curses of their lives.

Vengeance: Is
it a dish best served cold, or one as hot as the fires of Hell? Is it righteous,
or wicked? The answer lies with these exacting tales of

Featuring stories by Philip Overby, J. L. Mo, Gerald Costlow,
Mel Obedoza, A. C. Hall, Stacey Jaine McIntosh, Susan A. Royal, Martin T.
Ingham, Shawn Cook, Chris Allinotte, Edmund Wells, Karl G. Rich, Bruno Lombardi,
Nye Joell Hardy, & Lauren A. Forry.