Sunday, September 1, 2019

Million Miles Away



Sci-fi/Romance/New Adult
Date Published: Oct 5th 2019
Publisher: VisualBee Publishing

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I won’t bore you with details about the mysterious medical issues I’ve had over the last year;

the sudden severe allergies to food and medication, the sleep paralysis. All I’ll tell you is that they turned my life upside down.

But I’m a rational person.

Naturally, I assumed that my mind was playing tricks on me when I saw the strange figures standing over me.

But it felt so freakishly real;

especially one face in particular that always stayed with me long after I woke up.

Something about him always drew me in and I knew he was different. He made me feel different.

All my life, romance has felt like something that was reserved for everyone but me. I’d accepted that the only love in my life would be experienced through my artwork.

Now I’m questioning everything I know about myself, about reality, and especially about love.









EXCERPT from Chapter 1


The girls would always tease me about how put together my life was. Sure, it looked good on paper; top-rated artist in my department, an amazing house which I always kept immaculate, and when I wasn’t working, I was at the gym. They seemed to think that I had a perfect life. They had no idea how much I envied them. They both had incredible relationships with gorgeous men who doted on them endlessly. They were always commenting on how jealous they were of my body, but they also never missed a chance to eat delicious foods that I couldn’t so much as smell without getting sick. They didn’t realize that my house was always clean because it was empty and sterile; just like the rest of my life.

I didn’t even have a pet. Ever since little Ivan died, I accepted that I wasn’t pet owner material. If I couldn’t keep a goldfish alive, what chance did I have with a more complex and emotionally dependent animal? Besides, with my work schedule, it would be cruel to even try.

“Before we get started with what we’ve got on today, I need to ask you guys a really important favor,” Abiola said, circling the desk to take both mine and Laura’s hands in hers. “The two of you have been such a huge part of my life. You’ve been there for me through all my family drama and I couldn’t love you more if you were my flesh and blood sisters.”

“Abi,” Laura pushed out her bottom lip. “That’s the sweetest thing you could possibly say.”

“Well, I would be so honored if the two of you would be my bridesmaids this spring. Please say yes!”

The three of us all wrapped our arms around each other in a sickeningly sweet display of female solidarity. I forced a smile and swallowed the lump in my throat as I imagined walking down the aisle on the arm of some random groomsman who had a wife or girlfriend somewhere in the church. This would be the second time I was a bridesmaid at someone’s wedding. The old saying ‘three times a bridesmaid, never a bride’ rang out in my mind.

“I would love to be a bridesmaid at your wedding,” Laura crooned.

I mustered the minimal amount of excitement I could get away with for the situation and said, “Me too. I love you, woman,” then patted Abiola on the back.

Abiola nodded and wiped at eyeliner from beneath her watering eyes. She was an old soul with a soft heart. She spent her weekends volunteering at a children’s group home. That was where she met her fiancĂ© Trevor, and they bonded over their dysfunctional family situations. They would probably adopt a bunch of foster kids right after their wedding and live happily ever after. She deserved that; it was all she ever wanted.

“Okay ladies,” Abiola clapped her hands. “Today we’re looking for something we can use for the promotion of the OSA campus, which will be opening next year in Portland, Oregon. Boss says our primary focus is to attract engineering and architectural students for the Lunar-retreat that’s in the works.”

“So, where do we start?” Laura said, looking right at me.

“I am going to need to work up some concept drawings for the Lunar Resort. Also, if you could give me the clearest photos of the most beautiful views the Lunar Surface has to offer, that would be cool to show exactly what the students should be aspiring to be a part of. I want to see some dramatic landscapes with visible craters, maybe some rock formations. Anything to pull people in.”

“I’m on it,” Laura nodded and sat down at her touch responsive computer.

“I’ll go to engineering to get permission to use blueprints of the resort that you can use to make the concept drawings,” Abiola said, then turned and headed towards the elevator.

It was an exciting project. I used to fantasize that by the time I was ready to retire, I would be able to cash in on all the vacation time I had accrued and maybe even spend a few of my golden years at that resort. The thought of waking up in the morning and looking out the window to see the Earth just as we see the moon from down here always gave me a sense of calm.

Four hours later, all final decisions had been made on what I wanted to use on the project. Right on cue, my trusty assistants started complaining that they were starving to death.

“If I don’t get some corned beef nachos in me in the next ten minutes, I might actually die,” Laura said and stood up dramatically from her desk.

“I want waffles and bacon,” Abiola rubbed her belly.

I sighed at the memory of bacon; I would probably just have some raw vegetables and berries. I was still looking at my screen and inspecting one of the photos, trying to decide on how I would alter the image to bring it to life. My eyes burned. I clenched them shut and rubbed them, forcing them to rest. Eye strain was the enemy and this day was proving to be particularly difficult since I had hardly slept the night before. I couldn’t shake my anxiety about today’s social gathering after work. Stress and lack of sleep usually meant a big fat migraine, which was the last thing I needed at Laura’s party.

“I’m going to head to the chill room. I need a nap more than anything.”

“You better be rested for tonight’s festivities,” Laura wagged her finger at me.

“I’ll bring my party face, I promise,” I said. I stood up but couldn’t stop the oncoming yawn. “The fatigue is killing me.”

“Yeah, no coffee or sugar in your morning will do that to you,” Abiola said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Well, it’s easy since a cup of coffee could put me in the hospital again, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Abiola pressed her fist to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine, Abi,” I assured her. “I just need to get a little rest.”

The two girls headed down to the food court while I made my way to the sleeping pods. White, plush, and stacked like a honeycomb, they were an inviting image that screamed comfort. I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief to find my favorite lower level pod was unoccupied. Turning on the sound system, I selected a playlist I knew I could sleep through. Sometimes I would choose guided meditation tracks or audiobooks. Today’s selection was soft cello. Something about the deep tones helped me unwind no matter what was on my mind. I settled in, turning on the heated cushions and closing my eyes.

I practiced the deep breathing exercises the doctor had taught me as I pictured myself floating through a dark endless sky toward the moon’s surface. The pictures I had looked at for over four hours served to be the subject of my meditation. I inhaled deeply, focusing on relaxing my arms and legs. Exhaling, I imagined moving further out into space. In… and out…

As soon as sleep found me, I was swept up in a flurry of blinding light. My stomach turned as the light began strobing violently, causing me to feel disoriented. My body tensed as I realized it had been several weeks since I’d had an episode. Right on schedule, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Oh no, no, no, no… I can’t deal with this right now, not at work!

I struggled to wake myself, I couldn’t move. The cold sensation of a smooth metallic surface beneath me was confusing. I felt my fingertips twitch as I tried desperately to flail any and all limbs that might respond to my will, but my body remained where it was. I strained to sit up or scream, but I couldn’t even open my mouth. I was trapped, overwhelmed by the weight of my chest collapsing in on itself. If I didn’t put every ounce of will I possessed into sucking air through my nostrils, I had a very real fear that my body would simply shut down, leaving my body as a cold stiff corpse which might be found hours later in my cozy little pod. Filling my lungs with intention, I gasped for air, breath after panicked breath, hoping someone would notice and wake me.

The strobing intensified for what felt like several minutes and when it finally stopped, there remained a constant blinding light that made my eyes water. Tears streamed from the outer corners of my eyes into my ears.

“Help… me…” I managed to whisper to no one in particular.

From the edge of my vision, a blurry figure leaned over me.

“Please,” I sobbed, trying to turn my head to get a better look at who it was, but I couldn’t.

My chest burned as my heart pounded out of control. I tried to calm myself by reciting the scientific facts about what I knew was happening.

During REM sleep, your muscles are essentially turned off to keep you from sleepwalking. When a person wakes up during REM, they are fully conscious but completely paralyzed. Usually, physical stimulation from someone rubbing or shaking them will pull the victim out of the purgatorial state. Unfortunately, living alone means I have no one to rescue me during these episodes, which can sometimes last for hours.

 “Just close your eyes. Everything will be okay,” a distorted voice spoke through the fog of my half-conscious state.

Maybe my brain is morphing the cello music into a voice. Sleep paralysis is often accompanied by waking dreams or hallucinations, after all.

I thought I could force myself to come out of it but, instead, I moved even deeper into unconsciousness. It wasn’t like falling, but more like being underwater and sinking slowly. I struggled against what felt like a chemically induced calm. I tried again to force myself awake but couldn’t. The darkness swallowed me up and I finally surrendered to it.

To my surprise, I suddenly found myself vividly aware of two things; one, the fact that I was breathing without much effort, and two, I was no longer in my cushioned sleeping pod, but rather stretched out flat on my back on a cold metal surface. All efforts to move just made me realize that what I was experiencing was very different from the sleep paralysis I was familiar with. I could move my fingers and flex my wrists and feet. There were actual physical restraints fastened around my wrists, neck, forehead, and ankles that were preventing me from moving.

Blinking hard, I strained to look around at my surroundings. The entire room was reflective as if every surface and object was made from surgical steel. It was shockingly cold, almost like the inside of a walk-in refrigerator. I grunted, twisting my wrists in hopes that I could slip out the straps.

There was a continuous hum that was so low I didn’t hear it so much as felt it vibrating through my entire body. There was a spherical light that seemed to be floating in the air a few feet over me. The ceiling was high above that and almost too dark for me to make out anything but the vague shape of what might have been a reflection of myself and the rest of the room around me. I strained to see past the light so I could study what else I could make out in the reflective ceiling. My heart pounded in my ears as my attention was drawn to a distorted human shape in the darkness at my side.

A chill spread through my body as I realized that someone, or something, was quietly watching me struggle but I couldn’t for the life of me work out who, as the silhouette disappeared from my view the moment I noticed it. Even when I turned my eyes as far as I could, the dark corners of the room remained completely obscured. Regardless of the deafening silence and the fact that I couldn’t see anyone, I knew someone was there.






About the Author



Alice Bane holds a BSc and a voracious interest in all things extra-terrestrial. Self-identifying as a citizen of the universe, she has opted to travel the cosmos through her words. Million Miles Away is her debut Sci-Fi Romance novel.



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Thursday, August 29, 2019

Secrets Never Die







Tallie Brown’s life has never made sense. Raised in isolation by her mother, Julia, Tallie was dragged suddenly and without explanation from one third-world outpost to another until life normalized seven years ago when Julia took a position on a mountaintop in the Pacific northwest. But when Julia unexpectedly dies, Tallie uncovers clues suggesting that Julia had a secret life. Journalistic phenom Jackson James is still recovering from the devastating mistake that flatlined his promising career. Now he’s paying the price, working as the editor of a syrupy community rag in a posh D.C. suburb. But when the very man who destroyed him drops a tantalizing lead about a potential D.C. scandal, the reporter sees his chance for redemption and sets off to chase the story. Jackson’s investigation leads him to Cutler’s Ridge, a dying Virginia coal town, and directly into the path of the mysterious and beautiful Tallie. As these two mistrustful loners follow their leads, their stories begin to intertwine until they reach an alarming conclusion – something terrible happened in Cutler’s Ridge. As they doggedly pursue the story, the town’s cold reception spirals into threats and danger, proving that there are those who will stop at nothing to keep the past hidden forever –because secrets never die.











 
Laurie (L.C.) Lewis will always be a Marylander at heart—a weather-whining lover of crabs, American history, and the sea. She admits to being craft-challenged, particularly lethal with a glue gun, and a devotee of sappy movies. Secrets Never Die is Laurie’s twelfth published novel.
Her women’s fiction/romance novels include Love on the Line, (2019), Awakening Avery, (2018), Love on a Limb, (2017), Sweet Water, (2017), The Dragons of Alsace Farm (2016), and
Unspoken (2004), written as Laurie Lewis. Using the pen name L.C. Lewis, she wrote the five volumes of her award-winning FREE MEN and DREAMERS historical romance series, set against the backdrop of the War of 1812: Dark Sky at Dawn (2007), Twilight’s Last Gleaming
(2008), Dawn’s Early Light (2009), Oh, Say Can You See? (2010), and In God is Our Trust, (2011).
Laurie Lewis is a RONE Award Winner (The Dragons of Alsace Farm) and was twice
named a New Apple Literary Award winner in 2017 (The Dragons of Alsace Farm), and in 2018, winning Best New Fiction (Love on a Limb.) She is also a BRAGG Medallion honoree, and she was twice named a Whitney Awards and USA Best Books Awards finalist.
Laurie loves to hear from readers, and she invites you to join her VIP Readers’ Club, or contact her at any of these locations.


VIP Readers' ClubWebsite ~
Twitter ~ Goodreads ~
  ~ Facebook ~ Instagram



RANDOM FACTS
1. I met my husband on a CB radio when I was fifteen.
2. I have a weird love for twinkle lights and nesting boxes.
3. I'm a kidney donor.
4. I threw the shot put and discus in high school.
5. I love big, dangling earrings.
6. Our house was hit by a tornado last November.
7. I have a dozen amazing grandchildren.
8. My mom has dementia and was the inspiration behind "The Dragons of Alsace Farm."
9. I could eat fried chicken all day.
10. I speak in accents when I write my characters' dialogue.






To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our Official Event page 









Wednesday, August 28, 2019

Once You Know



Non Fiction / Body, Mind, Spirit / Inspiration & Personal Growth

Date Published: November 5th 2019
Publisher : Acorn Publishing

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Our children are our hope, our future, our everything. Yet, we are often very unaware of the consequences of our actions, and the impact they have on our children’s future. The dangers of our lack of awareness are real. For the first time in history, our children’s life expectancy is shorter than ours. It is our duty as parents to educate ourselves and help our children thrive. This book is:



·  An invitation to take a deeper look at the cultural influence on our children’s health.

·  A helpful resource for parents who wish to take an active role in preserving their children’s health in today’s toxic environment.

·  An empowering guide with life-changing information that most of us don’t have.

Once you know, you can make changes. NOW is the time to act.


About the Author

Agnes Deglon is a biochemist, oriental medicine practitioner, and the mother of two young boys. She is a passionate children’s health advocate. In the few years she spent in the acupuncture clinic, she came to the conclusion that it is easier to preserve health than to cure disease. 

Aside from ONCE YOU KNOW A Guide to Preserving Your Child’s Health, Agnes is the author of the children’s book series, Kids’ Questions About Life, an educational book series written in simple language for parents, teachers, and kids who are pondering the deeper, more complex yet so essential issues of life. Book two in the series,Wait for me! Would you Mind?, won first place in the 2016 Royal Palm Literary Award. Book three, The Little Souls, was a finalist. 

You can visit her online at WWW.AGNESDEGLONBLOG.COM


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Friday, August 23, 2019

FATE’S DESTINY



I am so excited that FATE’S DESTINY by Debbie Cassidy is available now and that I get to share the news!
If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book by Author Debbie Cassidy, be sure to check out all the details below.
This blitz also includes a giveaway for a $15 Amazon Gift Card, International, courtesy of Debbie and Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.

About the Book:
Title: FATE’S DESTINY (Heart of Darkness #3)
Author: Debbie Cassidy
Pub. Date: August 20, 2019
Publisher: Debbie Cassidy
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 192
Find it: GoodreadsAmazon
READ FOR FREE ON KU!

A winter king with no memory of who he used to be, a rag tag group of rogues, and a journey that will test us at every turn.

With Veles and The Raven at my side and with Morrigan’s power surging through my veins, anything feels possible. But our quest comes with harsh challenges, and we will be tested, mind, body and soul. A frozen wasteland lies between us and our goal, and hunger closes in.

The Autumn kingdom is our salvation…If we make it. But only the strongest will survive.

I hope I’m among them…

Buy the first 2 books!


Excerpt:






About Debbie:

Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head – in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes Urban Fantasy, Fantasy and Reverse Harem Fantasy. All her books contain plenty of action, romance and twisty plots.

Connect with Debbie via her website or Email her at debbiecassidyauthor@gmail.com
Check her out on twitter

Sign up to her newsletter to grab a free short story, and stay up to date on new releases:



Giveaway Details:

1 winner will win a $15 Amazon Gift Card, INTERNATIONAL.





Thursday, August 15, 2019

Nothing Else But You



New Adult Romance, Contemporary Romance
Published: July 30, 2019
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group

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TRUE HEARTS

What appealed most about The Letter Club was the anonymity and complete absence of social media BS. Giovanni Di Caro lives with enough scrutiny and family drama, he didn't need anymore, but he wanted someone he could talk to. Sure, his quad-mates in college are great, but there's a part of him he wanted to share without worrying about being judged. What he didn't expect was to fall for a woman whose letters became his anchor. Smart, funny, intuitive and sweet, somehow she understood him better than anyone else in his life. The problem? He doesn't know her name or where she lives. But he will, because over the past few months she had become his girl, and now he's ready to claim what's his.





EXCERPT FROM NOTHING ELSE BUT YOU


Mirabelle figured that dwelling on the school shooting and G’s aimlessness as a result thereof was a downer. She wanted to make him laugh and see the lighter side of life. God knew she spent countless hours working on that herself.

So, after typing out the letter and printing it in the computer lab – she did not have a computer at home and she would never use the one at work for personal stuff – she returned to the computer and went through the Sagawick Valley High School’s yearbooks for G’s sophomore year.

Unusual, and a bit daunting, there were eleven boys with G as their first name. And who knew if G was really a G. She wasn’t really Mirabelle, but she had become Mirabelle nine months ago when she’d fled home. It took a good chunk of her savings to buy a new driver’s license and social security card. Denny, the guy who sent her to the forger, was as stand-up as a mid-level street dealer could be, but in this case, he did her a solid. No, she didn’t do drugs, but she had lived in the same rat-hole boarding house in Portland as he did, and she cooked on her little camp stove, even though she wasn’t supposed to cook in her room. One night when she was making a stew, Denny had smelled the food, came a knocking, and begged a meal. Their sit-down dinners were a two to three time a week occurrence. Denny was a real quid pro quo kind of guy, so he did her a solid and sent her to a good forger who knew how to get her a valid social security number.

Which was how she was able to move to and settle in Fiddler’s Rest, population 2,036, the county seat of a sparsely populated area, a little east of the middle of the great state of Oregon. After having spent hours hunched over a computer in one of Portland’s public libraries, she’d found Fiddler’s Rest, saw they had a community college, and that there were enough stores in the area that she knew she’d find work. It was cheap to live there, far from almost everything and everybody, yet only miles from a main highway that cut across the state. Perfect camouflage and an easy escape route.

Taking it on faith that G was a G, she went through the yearbook assiduously. Eleven G guys, five of which were on sports teams. Mirabelle bet that G had become proficient enough to play a sport for an Ivy League school because he’d done it for years. Of the five sport Gs, George, football, Geoffery, tennis – natch with that spelling – Grant, basketball, Glen, baseball and Giovanni, lacrosse, Mirabelle had guessed that Glen was her G.

But she wasn’t certain.

Glenn Ryback was good-looking in a jock sort of way, but he didn’t exude Ivy League. He seemed more state school and chill. He didn’t have the intensity a student needed to crack the Ivy League safe. Geoffery Whitcomb was so white bread and Ivy League his photo screamed Skull and Bones, but he didn’t look like he had a sensitive bone in his body. Her G – yeah, she knew he wasn’t hers, but still – was a guy with a deep well of a soul or a supreme liar. Who was she to judge? She’d reinvented herself and fabricated a new identity. But… She hadn’t lied to him about anything except the initial of her first name. She was golden.

Grant Ascomb had the looks and the Ivy League aura, but while basketball could get physical, it wasn’t brutal, which is how her G described his sport. Which left George Brody, the linebacker, and Giovanni Di Caro, the lacrosse player. George wasn’t much to look at, but he fit the bill in the sports department. She couldn’t tell if he was Ivy League material. Maybe, but around the eyes he didn’t seem to have the smarts. There was nothing scientific about her deductions. Christ, these were yearbook photos that were nearly five years old. But, it was all she had.

Giovanni Di Caro was too gorgeous to be serious enough to even apply for college, never mind gain entrance to an Ivy League school. The lower classes’ photos were in black and white. Only the seniors’ photos were in color, and yet, Mirabelle knew Giovanni had bright blue eyes and jet-black hair. A dangerous combination in the you’re-too-handsome-to-be-real column, which was why she was sure he wasn’t her G. Anyone who looked that good and could drop panties for a living didn’t knuckle down and study like a demon. Sure, she was making broad generalizations, but she’d found, for the most part, they held water.

She looked at the time in the top corner of the computer screen, cursed, then erased her search history and powered off the computer. She was going to be late for her writing class. They were diagramming sentences, which sounded horrid, but she loved that shit.


About the Author


Elle Wright has been writing stories since she was a child, which led her to a career in journalism. She enjoys reporting life as much as making up a world she can control. She lives on the east coast of the United States where most of her large, noisy family resides. When she isn't in front of her computer, she loves to travel, garden, hang out with her dogs, and take in the brisk sea air that she's told is supposed to help calm her. She's been testing that theory for a while now.



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Wednesday, August 14, 2019

The Missing Fairy Princess

The Missing Fairy Princess by Walter Salvadore Pareira

~ Book Tour~
11th to 17th August

About the Book:
“The Missing Fairy Princess” is the story of a 16-year-old fairy princess pitted against a powerful witch. The witch has stolen a potent new mantra developed by a colleague, ruthlessly snuffing out a brilliantly innovative mind.  She then hatches an elaborate plot to frame an adversary for her misdeed.  Her intention is to exact sweet revenge from her foe and at the same time, get away with the theft.  The victim, caught in her vicious web, is doomed to disgrace and a life sentence on a harsh penal colony. Meanwhile, the witch learns from her crystal ball, about an imminent threat from a fairy princess wearing a pink tiara.  To ward off that threat she kidnaps the fairy princess, wipes her memory clean and then turns her into a two-year-old girl.  

Unfortunately for the culprit, she has goofed up by kidnapping the wrong fairy princess, Merlyn, instead of Ashlyn, her twin.  The mistake turns out to be the undoing of the witch because Ashlyn proves to be her nemesis.  The brilliant fairy princess exposes the cobweb of misleading evidence fabricated by the witch, ultimately unmasking her.

If you love mystery, whodunit, with a dash of magical realism and sci-fi, this book is for you.

Book Links:


Cleanliness


“Cleanliness” ~ a topic which has featured so prominently in Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s speeches whenever he addressed gatherings across the country, Swachh Bharat!

Despite the rigorous drive by the central government, it is disheartening that except in small pockets, the larger picture that emerges is that there has been no appreciable improvement.

Why is it so difficult to inculcate the habit of cleanliness in us Indians?  This question gives rise to a plethora of others.  Is it inborn and so deep-rooted that it has become uncorrectable?  Have we been always like this and have fallen into a rut!

Certainly, not!  History attests that for bygone centuries India had an unblemished record as a much admired country.  Our hospitality matched our wealth and surroundings.  Our famed structures like Taj Mahal and Qutub Minar attracted visitors from all over the world, praising our land.  Given such a glorious background, how does one explain the degeneration to present abysmal depths?

Also, one mustn’t forget that the issues of overall cleanliness and environment damage although distinctly separate, are definitely correlated.  One has to take a look at the pathetic condition of our famed river of Ganga which at places reeks of raw sewage, despite 22,000 crores claimed to have been spent during the last four years.  In Mumbai, the Mithi river has been reduced to an open sewer and is an eye sore, again after humongous amounts of public money supposedly spent on cleaning it.

Those born in 30’s and 40’s would agree with me that the conditions in those days weren’t as pathetic like those one sees today.  There is a plausible theory that the industrialization was the cause of the fast deterioration.  If that indeed is the case, then it inevitably gives rise to a serious question; one of dereliction of duty. Unquestionably, the finger of blame points squarely at the watchdog authorities, including the governments at the centre and the states.  Were they so consumed in their eternal fights for power that ‘minor’ issues such as the blatant environment damage taking place so openly all over the country, were ignored overriding the persistent grave warnings from the environmentalists.  In the process, some of those politicians succeeded in turning the national calamity to their advantage, abetting the defaulters by fraudulent means by lining their own pockets. 

I am sure we could discuss this issue for hours, but at the end, it would emerge as a classic example of the ‘fence feeding on the crop’!  The present policy of the ‘carrot and stick’ hardly has shown a worthwhile improvement.  It seems imperative that sterner and punitive measures are called for.  

I cannot resist the temptation of quoting an interesting anecdote. There is the proven case of a tiny state in the Far East which was struggling to come to terms with filth and squalour and a true visionary leader transformed it into a country which is now proud of its environmental achievements.  Many years ago, a visitor stepped out of the International Airport and even as he was looking for a cab, succumbed to the habit of spitting.  In the blink of an eye, a marshal materialized and gave the man a receipt for 500 dollars in local currency, pointing to a prominent notice prohibiting spitting.  Apparently, there was further misery in store for the despondent visitor.  Another marshal handed him a pail and a groom and ordered him to clean a stretch of around 100 feet as a token punishment.

There is a colloquial saying that you cannot expect one’s hand to produce the results what a stick alone can do. May be it is time for our authorities to shift gears and adopt tougher legislation to discipline the legions of errant citizens blatantly spitting and littering.  Many years ago, it was a common sight to see people urinating at dark corners, with the result one had to block one’s nostrils while passing such stinking spots.  Subsequently, someone came up with a brilliant idea of putting up ceramic tiles with the picture of prominent deities at such places, the results were noteworthy.  Unfortunately, the idea didn’t have the desired results in curbing spitting.

Mere sloganeering will not help!  The change has to take place at the grassroots level. The parents and teachers have a greater role to play in moulding the young minds.  A recent advertisement on TV comes to mind where a child sees her mother throw a wrapper in a park and replicates it later at a public place.  The rebuke from mother has the kid saying the former did exactly the same thing in the park, causing acute embarrassing as well as realization of her folly in the mother.  It pains one to see even educated youngsters indulging in wanton littering from the trains, buses or cars involving plastic bottles, wrappers and plastic sachets with little regard to the environmental damage they are causing.  That also applies to the disgusting habit of spitting which we have formed maybe due to of our pan-chewing habit.

I can recall yet another significant effect of the role of the teacher.  My granddaughter was in the first grade then.  One day we saw her coming home inconsolable, tears rolling down her cheeks even though she had left her class a good 10-15 minutes earlier.  The reason as it transpired was that the teacher has explained to the class how unscrupulous builder were irresponsibly cutting down trees to make way for new buildings, thereby destroying what the nature has taken centuries to build.  Such was the impact on the young mind of a five-year-old that she was prepared to take part into a demonstration against the errant builders.

Precious moments are ticking and with every passing minute, the mankind is racing towards an inevitable tryst with doom.  The nature sounded a number of loud warnings, but if we stupidly continue to ignore them, we would be dropping the proverbial axe on our own feet.


About the Author:
After spending over 25 years in the Middle East, the author, aged 75, now leads a retired life.  He lives with his wife and son in Thane, near Mumbai. He has been passionate about writing from his early days.  His first book was a fast-paced sci-fi novel titled “This Nightmare is for Real”, was self-published. That was followed by a historical fiction titled “Bheem – The Sage of Madhavpur”, again a self-publication.  A third book, a fairy tale titled “The Missing Fairy Princess” which was published on Kindle Select during the first week of June 2019, while a fourth on the oft-discussed topic of cross-border terrorism titled “The Carnivore has a Heart” is slated for publication shortly thereafter again on Kindle Select.

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