I was recently on twitter and saw that a Mom I used to spend lots of time with watching our girl’s play volleyball had written a book. Even though she lives right around the corner from me, I haven’t seen her much since our kids graduated high school. We are no longer perched on the side lines cheering together. Miss those days!
I was rather intrigued and sent her a congrats tweet and followed the link to a review of her book. WOW, she is an incredible writer, I was super impressed. I noticed she started following my blog and decided I would love to share her new book with my readers. I want to share her book because I think you will love reading it AND I love that Candi is a local Mom, a reader, a writer, makes movies, loves her husband dearly, is gorgeous, eats healthy, and SURFS! She is seriously multi-talented.
Looking at her you would never guess she is a brilliant writer, but as we all know looks can be deceiving. I have only read the first chapter, but I bought the book today and am eager to finish reading it ASAP. I have included the first chapter for you and if you love it as much as I did, please buy a copy. I love supporting local talent and hope to promote more talented peeps in the future.
CHAPTER 1
of
BLACK CROW WHITE LIE
by Candi Sary
I had a nightmare about red ants eating away at my hands. It woke me up. Trembling, I hid my fisted hands in the small space between my neck and my chin. I stared at the empty pillow on her side of the bed. Peeking up at the small clock, I could barely make out the time. Our cheap motel room was lit only by the dull glow of the neon outside our window.
1:09 a.m. She should have been back by now. I relaxed my chin a little, but still kept my hands close to my neck. I stayed that way for almost twenty minutes, until I heard her key in the door. She stumbled in and rushed to the bathroom. She flushed the toilet over and over to cover up her vomiting. It didn’t work this time.
“Carson,” she moaned, the ceramic bowl amplifying her moan. “Carson, honey, I need you.”
Jumping out of bed, I rushed to her, feeling the cold bathroom tile on my feet. She was bent over the toilet, her hair nearly touching the water. Quickly, my hands gathered up her tangled reddish hair and held it behind her neck. She strained her head to look back at me. Her eyes were wet slits caked with mascara, and her mouth wore a smile too heavy for her to hold.
“You’re a good boy, Carson,” she whispered just before she threw up one last time. Exhausted, she just collapsed right there on the floor, lying down in an S-shape on the bathroom mat.
“Goodnight, Mom,” I whispered. I got down on the floor and, with my back to her, tucked myself into the curve of her body, filling in the upper part of the S she made. I reached behind me and grabbed her limp arm. I wrapped it over me and fell asleep.
The next day, I woke up after eleven in bed. I sort of remembered my mom leading me to the bedroom earlier. I saw that she was already up, drinking her tea in a chair by the window. The drapes were closed. Her hair was still wet from a shower, and now she was wearing a robe, her legs folded up on the chair. Her smile was serene.
“You sleep good, honey?”
“Yeah,” I said stretching my arms up above my head, my hands hitting the loose headboard.
“Would you like me to take you to a movie today?” Her voice was soft and sweet. “I’ll get you popcorn and soda.”
“Okay,” I said sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
A McDonald’s milkshake was usually my reward for taking care of her after a late night. A movie meant she was really sorry that she drank too much.
“We can take the bus to the big theater that you like,” she offered as I got out of bed and grabbed the TV remote. “And we can even sit in the balcony section again if you want.”
“That’d be cool,” I said, flipping through cartoons.
“But before we go, honey–” Her eyes went soft. “Could I just get you to make my head feel better?” I had this way of making my mom’s pains go away. I don’t know how I was able to do it, but it showed up when I was really young.
I set the remote back on the dresser and went to my mom’s chair. Putting my hands over her head I felt the tiny stars that always came. It felt like thousands of them came pouring out of my hands. I couldn’t see them with my eyes; I could only see them with my eyes closed. But I could feel them. They filled my hands with heat, and when I shared them with my mom, they made her feel better.
I don’t remember the first time I used the stars, just like I don’t remember the first time I used my voice. When I asked my mom how I got them, she said I just knew I had them in me–the same way I knew I had words in me.
You can buy your copy here!
xoxo tiffani
available on kindle
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