Tuesday, 13 November 2018

Story Bends by S.D. Henke

Title: Story Bends
Author: S.D. Henke
Publisher: Pen Name Publishing
Published: October 9th

What if your only escape from death was to meet it halfway?

If the voices called on YOU...

Needed YOU...

Brought YOU in between the Bends of time where all faith is lost to those who wait. Your etchings hold the secrets to guide them on their way. Yet, there will be no safe passage if evil finds you first and you have no toll to pay.

Excerpt from Chapter Four:

Limbo─Age 12
Every person has their broken bits. Some are seen. Some are unseen. Mine are more in line with a wild rumpus. Unlike the lump sum of everyone else in the entire world, I somehow got scattered between here and there. I’m not supposed to be here. Like a bad apple. I’ve fallen out of the tree. Left to stinking rot.

Not even my shoes ever quite fit. Everyday, I try them on, one at a time. One day, too small, the next too big. I imagine even the shoddy shoe horn would blow on its own if it could stop the whole hullaballoo. I’ve fixed them, though; with the heels pressed down and my feet wedged in.

Makes Mother furious.

“We just bought those! What do you mean they don’t fit? You tried them on and they fit like a glove. Next time I take you to the cobbler.”

It did no good to try and explain. To explain how I’m squeezed through the ringer each night and rolled back out, reshaped and reconfigured like in the gingerbread tales.

I feel the awkward pull and I sit down on my bed. It creaks like a warning.

They will come and come again.

Here. Now. Where They always find me. In my bedroom, between its four walls. These visitors who hold on in between.

Breath fixes with a rise and fall. Inside an encasement of ribs. A zing swells in my chest, while still, my tiny heart beats.

Priest says, “We all choose.”

I did not choose very wisely, I think.

And what do Mother and Father keep saying about it?

How it’s “Simply improbable.” “Imagination’s fancy.” And the most recent, ripest of their assessments, a firm label they toss around like alphabet soup.

My eyes catch a glimpse of the letters P, T, S and D inscribed in Mother’s feathery script inside the pages of a yellow notepad on the bedside nook and another bottle of pills. As if such things might explain it all away. Explain the voices away.

I cup my fingers up around my throat. I find a pulse.

Still here.

Still me.

About The Author:

I began making my first connections to story in the early days of my childhood. Raised by my mother who ran an in-home daycare was where my imagination could run free and unencumbered. It was a safe zone and I learned from that experience the power of unconditional love.But my story wasn’t always filled with happy ever afters, and I came to understand that there are some sorrows and trauma that are part of all of us. As love and joy are universal, so is pain and suffering. Through the magic and alchemy of story, we can reach farther and heal our wounds.

I started my teaching career nearly 20 years ago and knew from the moment I began that this was my true calling. Teaching was in my bones and so, naturally was the little nip of my conscience for storytelling. I work to build strong, long-lasting relationships with my students. In fact, I began on this path toward a writing career because of the imprint they’ve had on my spirit. What I didn’t know was what the Muse had in store for me as the children I still come into contact with today continue to inspire the stories I write.

My greatest loves are exploring nature and spending time with family and friends. Whether I’m splashing it up on the local reservoirs, rafting down the Poudre River with my husband, two boys, and our dog Sophie, or shaping young minds in my classroom, I consider myself lucky to call Fort Collins, Colorado my home.

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