DARK WATERS_enter your short story to be published!

Eric W. Trant has an announcement on his blog for a short story submission opportunity that you must not miss!

http://diggingwiththeworms.blogspot.com/2011/02/call-for-submissions-march-15.html

So get your submissions in! Debrin Case is looking for new authors, unpublished, up-and-comers.

He's a small publisher, so make sure that's your bag.

Small pubs usually mean less money, more personality, less editing, more artistic freedom, smaller distribution, more devoted fans, newer and less-known authors,

a better chance at actually getting published!

So it's a give-n-take with the small publisher. Eric personally has enjoyed it because the pressure is less intense, and the pay even from a large publishing house rarely outweighs the stress they induce on their writers.

Anyway, get to submitting!

Are you submitting? Post up a ~small~ excerpt. What is your story about? Please spread the word. Let other talented writers know they have until March 15 to submit to An Honest Lie.

And my short story to AN HONEST LIE?

It is the historical horror story, DARK WATERS, where 12 year old Samuel Clemens, long before he started calling himself Mark Twain, shows mercy to the murderer of his father ...

or does he? My undead Texas Ranger, Samuel McCord, accompanies the boy on his dark journey through the soul. Here are appox. 300 words of it :

As we walked down the spacious hallway, she edged away from me.

She swallowed hard once, then managed to get out her words,

“Capt. McCord, there’s monstrous mean haunts in this world. And then there be some who are damn fool enough to try and do good, only they ends up making things terrible bad for everyone around them.”

She forced herself to look me in the eyes. “Which one is you?”

“The damn fool kind.”

She almost smiled. “Leastways you be a truth-telling haunt.”

“It’s a failing.”

“That kind of thinking is what makes you a haunt.”

She was wrong. But there was a lot of that going around.

“Miss Jane has gone through terrible, sad times. Mr. Marshal he done tried, but he ain’t got a lick of business sense. Me, I’m the last thing they own of any value.”

I felt sick. Thing. She had called herself a thing. What kind of world was it when one race made another think of themselves that way? A world of justifiable hypocrisy.

I shook my head. “They don’t own you anymore.”

Her dusky face went as sick pale as it could get. “M-Mr. Marshall done sold me to dat devil Beebe!”

I reached inside my buckskin jacket and pulled out the hastily written bill of sale. “He was going to. But ... things didn't turn out like he planned. So he was forced to sell you to a stranger ... to me.”

I gave her the paper. She took it with trembling fingers. She stared at it hollow-eyed as if it were the parchment selling her soul to the devil.

“I - I can’t read, mister.”

“Get Sammy to teach you.”

She glared at me. “You is evil!”

“Turn it over, Jennie.”

“I done told you I can’t read!”

“But Sammy can. Show it to him. He’ll tell you that I’ve given ownership of you to --”

Jennie’s face became all eyes. “T-To little Sammy? Oh, bless --”

I shook my head. “No, Jennie.”

She took a step backwards, her voice becoming a soft wail. “Not back to Mr. Marshall? He’ll just be selling me again.”

I reached out with my gloved right hand that must never touch bare, innocent flesh and softly squeezed her upper right arm. “No, I gave ownership of you to --- you.”

“I’m -- I’m free?”

“Well, the judge said you were priceless.”

“Oh, you is one of the good haunts!”

She rushed and hugged me, stiffening as she felt how cold my whole body was. She edged back a step. I met her suddenly hollow eyes.

I smiled sad. “But still a haunt.”

We were silent all the way to the guest bedroom. She opened the door then her mouth. No words came out. But she did give me back my sad smile. I watched her walk away staring at the bill of sales as if it were holy writ.

It was something. More than a haunt like me had the right to expect. Maybe my pillow would be the softer for it.

Or maybe that was just my justifiable hypocrisy talking.

***