Win a really fun Prize courtesy of Disney!

Julian Froment:

Checkout this fun book and take part in the giveaway for a chance to win your own copy and some other fun stuff

Originally posted on readful things blog:

Note: All samples and prizes provided through Disney Publishing

Please read to the bottom for how to enter to win a prize pack:)

Gabby Duran and the Unsittables

About the Book:

Case File: The First Unsittable

Summary: The Association Linking Intergalatics and Earthlings (hereby known as A.L.I.E.N.) has a new member. After months of investigation, Gabby Duran, Associate 4118-25125A, has proven herself to be a babysitter extraordinaire. Her celebrity clients fly her around the country to care for their rambunctious little humans. Our spy, Associate 4118-23432B, otherwise known as Edwina, believes Gabby can be trusted with the truth: aliens are living among humans on Earth. And here at A.L.I.E.N we believe that even extraterrestrials need a babysitter now and then. No one was up to the task…until now.

After accepting the top-secret position, Edwina has paired our new associate up with her first charge, a little girl from the planet…

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LEGENDS OF WINDEMERE: SLEEPER OF THE WILDWOOD FUGUE

LEGENDS OF WINDEMERE:
SLEEPER OF THE WILDWOOD FUGUE
LIVE on Amazon Kindle!

The final champion stirs and reaches out to any who can hear her voice. Yet all who heed her call will disappear into the misty fugue.

Awakening their new ally is only the beginning as Luke, Nyx, and their friends head south to the desert city of Bor’daruk. Hunting for another temple once used to seal Baron Kernaghan, they are unaware that the game of destiny has changed. Out for blood and pain, Stephen is determined to make Luke wish he’d never set out to become a hero.

By the time the sun sets on Bor’daruk, minds will be shattered and the champions’ lives will be changed forever.

Don’t forget to mark it as ‘To Read’ on Goodreads too!

Charles E. Yallowitz

Charles E. Yallowitz

About the Author:

Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.

Blog: Legends of Windemere
Twitter: @cyallowitz
Facebook: Charles Yallowitz
Website: www.charleseyallowitz.com

Read the Previous Volumes of Legends of Windemere!!!

BEGINNING OF A HERO

PRODIGY OF RAINBOW TOWER

ALLURE OF THE GYPSIES

FAMILY OF THE TRI-RUNE

THE COMPASS KEY

CURSE OF THE DARK WIND

Wilbur Took Flight

In honour of Wilbur’s first flight and the woman that I love I have penned, well typed off the cuff, a short poetic celebration of both.

bbird

 

 
 

 

Wilbur took flight
And headed for sea
An incredible sight
A favour for me

No one would expect
A blackbird to fly
O’er the ocean intact
No one but I

Onwards he flew,
Disregarding red lights,
Over to you,
Ignoring the sights

Able to do,
This task with such ease,
To fly to you,
Whenever he please

To deliver my message,
He came from above,
And with my gage
He carried my love

He chirped in your ear,
My missive and plan
Soon you shall be,
Back with your man

Though not a dove,
He did surely endeavour,
To be a sign of my love,
Always and forever

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Pilot’s Licence – Powered Flight 101

BabyBBs2

 

 

 

 

 

 

No, not me. I am not the one. However, I probably rather arrogantly, would like to take some of the credit for providing basic flight instruction, inspiration, and at the very least, encouragement and the provision of a nurturing, safe environment for Wilbur and Orville.

I came out to the yard this morning and instantly realised something was amiss. Either the babies are hunkered down in the nest, away from the wind, or they have flown the coop. Deserted their station. Left the nest. I hoped beyond all hope that they were still there. Or at least if they were not that they would come back to visit. I have poured out my love and affection. Provided my protection. I want to know that they are okay and that they will be happy as they journey through life.

So, somewhat perturbed at the situation and a little disappointed that daddy bird had reneged upon his promise I went back inside for a bit. Returning to pine at the nest a few hours later, and mourn my loss I examined their apparently uninhabited domicile further. It was indeed empty. No-one inside. Then I heard a sound. Not from the nest, but lower down, much lower.

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Looking down I saw Wilbur on the ground hopping and fluttering his way, stumbling and tottering along. I ‘helped’ a little by providing encouraging words as little Wilbur, the baby birdie, hopped along the path, jumping and flapping his wings a few times, flying a few feet before walking a few more steps.

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I encouraged him to take his first, well sadly I missed the very first when he must have left the nest, faltering flight. I imagine that the first would have been more of a rapid descent, than a flight. I sincerely hoped he would get the hang of a proper take-off soon so that he was not scrabbling around near ground based predators. He seemed clever and a quick learner so I had few doubts that would have his pilot’s licence pretty soon.

Daddy birdy came down for a look, perched on the fence, with a mid-morning worm snack. Hungry work flying lessons.

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A little later I observed Wilbur, at least I think it was Wilbur, and not his sibling, perched atop a bush. I was pleased to see that he had managed to reach such impressive heights after his first tentative flops along the ground. He gave me a small smile, insomuch as one can discern a smile on the visage of a bird, more a glint in the eye and an imperious, self-satisfied turn of the head, I guess, and launched himself clumsily up into the air.

Now, when I say I say ‘up into the air’, I may be being a little disingenuous. The truth of the matter was that there was a noticeable downward trend to his course of motion, as opposed to that which ‘up into the air’ would generally tend to imply. Sadly I also heard the distinct sound of a thud from the other side of the bush. Bird met fence, maybe. Hopefully he is okay. ‘You need to fly over them, Wilbur’. I believe that he may need to work on his navigational skills, and possibly take a further course in the mechanics of powered flight. Still, I believe he is doing well, this being his first day in the air, and again I say it loosely, the air. All things considered, I am very proud of their progress and their first day at school, as it were.

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Abandoned! The nest seems so empty on the wall. Well, I suppose that is because it is empty. Stark and lonely. That is how I would describe it. Orville and Wilbur are off exploring the delights of the English countryside, and no doubt sheltering from the bitter wind and frequent rain showers. I mourn their departure, but celebrate the wonder of nature that they represent.

Every so often I walk outside, my eyes drawn to the empty nest on the wall, unable to look away. Even all these years later, well hours (actually days, since it has taken me so long to write this) anyway, I can look at it and feel a gentle tug on my heart, no longer tinged with pain, as before, but remembering fondly our times together, divining the secrets of flight. The days we attended flight school together.

Smiling, I remembered the good times.

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The End. Finally, I hear you cry.

Birth of an Aviator, or even Two.

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I heard a sound. Looking up, I saw it. A nest. Perched on top of the climbing plants on the side of the bungalow. I hadn’t noticed it before. The plant had been completely overgrown until yesterday when the gardener had clipped it right back to the wall. The greenery now stark and unyielding, the nest perched atop, unharmed, but unprotected from the elements, which in the UK cannot be pleasant for the poor young family. To give him credit, he didn’t disturb the nest, that subsequent conversations revealed, he had considered empty.

MummyBB

 

 

 

 

 

 

The mother turned on the nest as I heard another rustling. Then, the flutter of wings as Daddy bird swooped down to land on the lip of the nest, gripping tightly with his claws. The obsidian majesty of the male was in contrast to the rather muted brown of the mother bird. They were however a perfect complement. A perfect partnership. This was apparent, even from the very limited amount of time I spent as part of their family.

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I have been, and shall continue to refer to them as blackbirds, however, my ornithological knowledge leaves a lot to be desired, and so am open to correction on this matter. It doesn’t really make a lot of difference to the story. In fact you can even decide for yourself what species they are. I will tell you though that they are not, dodo’s, emu’s, or storks.

The nest was a perfect bowl shape. An incredible achievement of mechanical engineering, constructed from a variety of organic materials, the occupants living as one with nature and their surroundings. Part of nature. How could they not be. I had no idea whether there were young in the nest that mummy was feeding, or un-hatched eggs that she was turning and keeping warm. Or indeed if it was empty of young.

Nest

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had, on previous days, see the father collecting twigs and building materials. He would alight on the edge of the pergola and eye me quizzically. His bright amber eye keeping close watch on my movements as I shuffled around the decking, trying not to disturb him. Then he would take to the air and I would lose sight of him. He was obviously reluctant to reveal the location of the nest at first, or at least until the ability to hide it was taken from him.

I sat for a while and watched the male in his resplendent glory returning to feed his beloved wife. He landed on the edge of the small nest. No room for him inside. Perching, in a manner that to me seemed particularly precarious, on the edge he leaned in and transferred the bounteous treat he had collected for his love to her gaping maw. The process was both practical and loving. He almost appeared to kiss her in the process, lingering just a little longer than really necessary, to enjoy the contact of beak on beak, bill on bill(?), before he was off again, to search for more tasty treats for his eternal partner in life.

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Over the course of the next couple of days I continued to observe their behaviour and characteristics. Their habits. It has been a fascinating pastime.

I initially suspected that the nest was empty of young, however upon further observance I noticed two young fledglings hunkered down in the nest, their occasional outstretched beaks reaching for the food proffered by their doting parents. I was looking forward to watching the development of the children and their first forays from the nest, as they are taught to fly, and enter the world at large.

BabyBBs1

 

 

 

 

 

 

Standing outside I saw that the nest was unguarded, then from nowhere, at the approach of a human, daddy swooped down to the nest and sits atop the chicks. Then mummy returned, plumper and more brown than daddy, with another worm for the babies and then took his place, settling herself down protectively on the young in the nest.

As time went on, it so came to pass, that oftentimes mummy and daddy were both occupied searching for food. During such periods I flatter myself that they trustingly left me on guard duty and that they respected and acknowledged my protection of their young.

The little babies, that I christened Wilbur and Orville, kept standing in the nest and turning, preening. Their little heads turned, their beaks poking their newly acquired feathers. They looked to be getting ready to leave the nest soon.

The next morning I thought that the twins were going to launch themselves clear out of the nest. They are getting big now and seem to fill the nest, almost to the point of overflowing. Orville kept stretching out, puffing up his chest and examining his feathers. Daddy and mummy were off getting breakfast. I was sure that there could be little room for them in the nest now, although they seemed to just plonk themselves down on top of the kids when they want to be in the nest.

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Daddy came back with a big wriggly worm in his bright orange beak, and sat on the pergola watching the nest, and probably me, remembering his promise to let me take part in the flying lessons. I believe that he may have been regretting his decision at that point.

 

Wilbur and Orville do it Right.

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I have been spending a little time recently observing the wonders of nature, as I mope around on the island of my incarceration. I thought I would share with those that can muster the enthusiasm to read, my discoveries and experiences. This will be in two parts entitled:

  • Birth of an Aviator – or even Two
  • Pilot’s License – Powered Flight 101

Neither of these parts will appear here. Come on, I haven’t posted in ages. I need to split things up and make it seem like I am more prolific than I am. Or at least like I post occasionally. Come on! Indulge me a little. Otherwise my meagre following will become bored, and vanish, ghostlike into the mists, of which there are many in this country, especially the fens where I am. Just saying.

I also have a few photographs to accompany these posts. Please do not expect much. That is not me being modest, but more, realistic. They were taken on my phone, generally one handed. Even if I use two hands and a flashy camera I am often able to take some truly shit pictures. You have been politely warned.

So, as I said, neither post is here. I will however post the first one shortly. The second part will appear some time tomorrow. By the way. This is fiction, but very much based in fact. It happened, but I have exercised my rights to hold a poetic, or I guess a prose, licence. Some sort of licence that lets me make stuff up, anyway.

Asking for Help and Shares

Originally posted on Inside The Poet's Mind:

The person that holds honorific of Poet Laureate of Toronto is chosen by Academia from a list composed by Academia. Academia has a low opinion of the average person, especially those not formally educated. As an un-educated man I am going to need all the support I can get if I am to be successful in taking on an institution the rewards its own. I am asking if you could all share this page and help me get the support I need. We can take the office of Poet Laureate from the Elite and give it to the regular folk of this fine City. Help me upset the Academic Apple Cart and end the Status Quo.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/T-J-Therien-for-Poet-Laureate-of-Toronto/1543045982610196?ref=bookmarks

 

Don’t forget to pick up one of my digital books for free on Smashwords

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TJTherien

Also you can find them at Barnes & Noble as well as iTunes

 

(Please note “Liars, Hypocrites…

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