Title: Mysticism & Myths
Genre: Paranormal Collection
A MUST READ FOR FANS OF THE MYSTERIOUS WORLDS OF GHOSTS, SEA DWELLERS & SHAPESHIFTERS!
Have you ever wondered about different myths of the world? These include the stories that so many cultures live by and the ones that of the best movies are based upon? You do know that these interesting concepts haven’t just appeared out thin air, right?
Introducing Mysticism & Myths, a sampler by six authors of varying genres. Each author has chosen a legend or culture from various regions, and embellished the details. Webs have been spun, and fantasies have been built in an effort to deliver to a collection that is sure to be entertaining.
The worlds captured in these stories are many! From ghosts and vampires to sea dwellers and shapeshifters, and even ancestral rebirths! There's something for everyone.
For detailed synopsis, please visit: http://mythsandmysticism.wix.com/mam1
Bound By Blood (A Night Shift Novella)
By Margo Bond Collins
Sometimes the monsters in the night are real.
Sometimes they live right next door.
Isa: Gift of the Baloma
By Perri Forrest
Isa: Gift of the Baloma is a fantasy tale created from a myth that derives from the Trobriand islands (today officially known as the Kiriwina Islands).
Micco, Anguta's Reign
By Dormaine G.
Revelation can be a disheartening truth.
Cursed: A Yorkshire Ghost Story
By Karen Perkins
She’s back. This time no one is safe.
By Jaxx Summers
We are born, live and eventually leave the mortal world.
The Life Keeper
By Abby L. Vandiver
The bloodline of Romania, older than the legend of the vampire, the strigoi are vile, evil creatures who suck the life from the people of the villages that line the impenetrable forests of the country.
Publisher: Cultural Cocktails
Project Coordinator: Janice G. Ross
Margo Bond Collins
Abby L. Vandiver
Cursed: A Yorkshire Ghost Story by Karen Perkins
‘Right, tea break over, lads, back to work. Rog, Steve, you’re up on Hanging Moor in the bulldozers. As soon as they’ve gone through, Paul and Simon, you get the chippings down. And take care – don’t go past the markers, that drop’s lethal.’
The road crew groaned, threw their dregs of tea to the ground and refastened their flasks before clambering into their machines to dig out the access road to the new dam spanning the Washburn Valley. The valley would be flooded in a month’s time, creating the new reservoir for the Leeds Corporation Waterworks to supply half of Leeds with drinking water, and the road should have been completed last month.
Rog led the way, the large bucket scraping heather and peat, then dumping it into the waiting tipper truck.
Steve followed, making a deeper cut. Together they gouged an ugly scar over the pristine Yorkshire moorland.
‘Bugger,’ Steve cried out and jolted in his seat, knocking the control levers. The big digger wobbled, teetered, then slowly toppled over towards the edge and a sheer wooded drop of a hundred and fifty feet to the valley bottom below.
‘Steve!’ Rog cried. ‘Guys, help!’
The rest of the crew downed tools and diggers and rushed to the stricken bulldozer. By the time they reached it, Rog was already clambering on to the cab, desperately trying not to look at the vista that opened up before him only a few feet away.
‘Steve?’ he called again. No answer. His mate lay unconscious, twisted in his seat. ‘Bugger!’ The digger slid a foot or two in the wrong direction.
‘Rog, get down; she’s going over!’ Andy, the foreman, shouted.
‘No – Steve’s out cold.’
‘You’re no help to him if your weight pushes it over the edge – get down! Help’s coming, we need to secure the digger somehow, keep her steady.’
Rog took a last look at his mate then nodded. He realised he couldn’t get into the cab without destabilising the digger further and he had no idea how serious Steve’s injuries were. He climbed down carefully, just as Simon drew up in the tipper truck. Half full of soil and rock, it was the heaviest vehicle there.
Andy got on the radio to inform his boss at the dam where there was a telephone to call for help, while Paul ran over with a chain. He secured it round one of the digging arms, and Simon backed up – slowly – until the rope was taut.
The digger shifted, turning around the pivot point they’d created. The back end now hung off the edge of the cliff.
‘Keep it there, Simon,’ Andy called. ‘And keep it in reverse – if the edge fails, you’ll need to pull him backwards.’
‘Can’t he just do that anyway?’ Rog asked.
‘We don’t know how badly he’s hurt. If he’s broken his back or neck, moving him could make it worse. We don’t want to move him unless we have to – not until the Fire Brigade and ambulance get here. What happened anyway?’
‘Uh.’ Rog pulled his attention away from the downed machine. ‘I don’t know – he shouted out, then rolled it.’
‘He shouted before he rolled?’
‘Andy, Rog. Come and have a look at this,’ Paul called and beckoned them over to join him where Steve had made his last cut.
‘What is it?’ Andy came hurrying over.
‘Uh, looks like a skull.’
‘What? Oh Christ, it’s a bloody skeleton! Well, that’s us buggered, guys, no more work here for at least a month while they sort this one out,’ Rog said.
‘Bugger that, we’ll just go round it,’ Andy said.
The three men looked over at Steve, then back into the grave. Only the skull and shoulder girdle were visible. As one, they shuddered as a worm pushed its way out of the compacted earth behind the jaw bones, for a moment looking as if the skull had stuck an emaciated tongue out at them.