Double-Take: BONUS EDITION No. 2
Video interviews, audio recordings, and a full moon story.
“Sagittarius: The Half Horse”
Publisher’s Note by Debbie Abbott
Chiron, the Centaur, is a mythological half-man and half-horse god that has symbolized this season’s sign for ages. How apropos that this is the zodiac for Dharma Direction’s second Bonus Edition where we’re embracing the mutable energy of Sagittarius, the Archer.
Fearless and passionate, a Sagittarius spirit requires freedom to move with the wind like the astrological sign’s spirit animal … the owl. Not the horse, as you were expecting—huh? Yet it makes perfect sense when you understand that being both wild and wise is inherent in this fire sign.
Similar to our first Bonus Edition back in August, we’ve brought some alternative ways to go with the flow. Scroll down without subscribing, or … stop and subscribe for free if you like our vibe. If you’re already a subscriber—we send armfuls of gratitude!
Watch (or just listen) to my chat with Dharma’s resident humorist and award-winning writer Colleen Markley as we talk about her speculative fiction debut novel: LILITH LAND.
Listen to audio versions of our Sagittarius essays and stories from the 2022 edition of Dharma Direction.
Read “A Werewolf at Book Club” - Part I of a two-part fantasy love story from Dharma’s award-winning writer, LJ Longo.
Aspiring Novelist … Colleen Markley
Publisher/Editor Debbie Abbott chats with Dharma Direction’s snarky humorist, Colleen Markley.
Run time: 50 minutes
In this interview with writer/instructor/speaker Colleen Markley, we discuss her debut novel: LILITH LAND.
Every aspiring novelist will relate to the insights Colleen shares with us about the process of pouring your guts onto pages for the world to rip apart … or … for them to love forever because your words just might help mend the tattered fabric of our world.
Happy watching!
~ Debbie
#AmReading … audio entertainment
“Sending Signs”
Debbie Abbott reads her personal essay (published in the 2022 Sagittarius edition of Dharma Direction) about the meaningful signs we tend to take for granted during the holiday season, and the angel overseeing the zodiac energy. (7:57)
“The Holidaze Party Personas - Sagittarius Style"
Colleen Markley reads her personal essay (published in the 2022 Sagittarius edition of Dharma Direction) about the colorful and distinct Sagittarius personas that show up during holiday parties. (14:19)
Debbie Abbott is a former managing editor for an upscale food and lifestyle print magazine in Scottsdale, Arizona. Now she spends time working on her debut novel and sharing anecdotes and life lessons as Dharma Direction’s publisher, editor, and contributor. Her novel-in-progress, THE ANGELS’ GAUNTLET, is an auto-fiction coming-of-age story with the magical realism element of Angelic influence aiding the pursuit of Dharma in the life of a Volunteer soul determined to keep a 3,000-year-old promise of hope to the angels.
Connect with Debbie on Facebook, through Debbie's Twitter page or visit Debbie on Instagram.
Colleen Markley is a novelist, freelance writer, and memoir instructor, named the June 2021 winner of the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop Humor Writer of the Month. She was awarded the Nickie’s Prize for humor for her essay “Unflappably Calm, Occasionally Furious, Ready and Willing to Hide the Bodies,” published in Sisters! Bonded by Love and Laughter. Her novel-in-progress, LILITH LAND, is a story about the end of the world where only the women survive. (It’s a novel, not an action plan.)
Check outColleen’s Substackto catch up on her publishing accolades and recent bylines.
Find her at www.ColleenMarkley.com or sign up here for her newsletter and updates. Visit Colleen on Instagram or Facebook. See her reviews and what she’s reading on Goodreads.
“A Werewolf at Book Club” - Part I
~ A Fantasy Love Story by LJ Longo
Read time: 25 minutes
The worst thing about being a werewolf was waking up in a forest, basically naked, the morning after the full moon. Shifting shorts helped, but no self-respecting werewolf is going to wear booties all night.
So that’s why David Longmane went to the Sacred Grove—the druids there made nice clean dirt paths that were very forgiving on the paws. The feet. And they went around in chariots to gather up all the werewolves. Dave usually just walked. Didn’t want to form an accidental pack bond.
But every once in a while, being in the Sacred Grove caused bigger problems.
Dave rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched in the crisp leaves of mid-autumn. Nearby, some small animal was badly wounded and wailing.
He sniffed the air in the direction of the high-pitched cry and grimaced as he stood. His feet were tender as the newly transformed skin and bones crackled.
Some elf or night spirit had left a cheap leafy blanket hanging in a nearby tree, and David picked it up and wrapped it around his shoulders. He was not surprised that the blanket wasn’t nearly big enough to clothe him, but it was better than wearing nothing but shifter shorts.
The wailing continued and sounded eerily human.
Dave purposefully walked away from the sound—not his problem—until he recognized the part of the forest he was in. His rampaging last night had taken him to the other side of the river—the druids would not get out this far until late afternoon.
And it sort of sounded like a child …
So, a few minutes later, Dave stared down at a pile of leaves, blood-painted stones, and a squalling human puppy.
He scratched his head and wasn’t certain what to do about it.
The puppy—wait, humans called them babies—was clearly cold and hungry. It—she—was naked and had some kind of symbol written in blood on her forehead. It had faded and flaked as it dried overnight. She was a sacrifice and the forest was supposed to have taken her.
“Uh …” Dave looked helplessly around the big empty forest, then down again. “What are you doing here?”
She had big brown eyes and looked up at him and sniffled. Her stubby fingers grabbed at the edge of the leafy cloak. “Blankie.”
“No. that’s mine.” Dave stepped back. “Bad baby.”
She wailed harder.
“Okay, okay.” He jerked away, frightened by the sound, and dropped the blanket on top of her. It muffled her wailing, which sounded more confused now that she was under a blanket.
Dave looked around again, hoping somehow that a druid had appeared since the last time he looked around the big empty forest. None had.
“Juice.” Her head poked out of the blanket.
“I don’t have any juice.”
The baby looked extremely disappointed by his short-sightedness. Then demanded. “Up. Up.”
“Um …” Dave looked around the forest one last time. “No.”
And he turned to walk away.
The baby resumed her crying.
“It’s not my problem,” he growled to the open air.
He heard the tiny human stumbling after him and walked a little faster. West toward the road and the druids and his normal clothes and his apartment and his daily life which was uncomplicated by tiny toddling human beings.
She stumbled and fell.
He turned to see her rising carefully and then lurching forward because her head seemed to weight too much. “You are not my problem.”
The baby reached out her arms again, dragging the blanket, without the wit to wrap it around herself. Her eyes were watery, and she grasped at the open air and looked more pathetic than any puppy ever could. “Up.”
“Okay, okay … I’ll take you to the druids.”
The only thing worse than a human puppy was the college student at the child shelter. “So, like, you found a baby in a wilderness altar and just took it?”
“No,” Dave answered, immediately.
“But you said it was a pile of leaves and blood-painted stones,” the kid argued. “That’s a wilderness altar.”
“I didn’t take her. She … wandered after me. Human puppies are very weak.” Dave cradled the now sleeping girl in one arm. “Kept talking about nanas and I have no idea what that means.”
“Bananas.” The boy leaned back in the chair and stared up at Dave. Took a lot of nerve for a human to look a werewolf in the eye. “So … did you eat its parents?”
“That is a very harmful stereotype about werewolves,” Dave answered.
The college student made a face that was anything but contrite and began to type while talking. “I’m just asking because we’ll have to hold it in the pen while we try to locate its parents and if they’re already dead …”
“I just found her in the woods.”
“Um hum.”
“I attended a donut party before the full moon. I was not ravenous. I would remember attacking and killing—”
The student finished typing and the contract materialized in the air. “Okay. You can sign here and put the kid in the pen.”
Dave took a step toward the door the college boy indicated and was assaulted by the smell of baby poop and the sound of infants wailing. Instinctively, he recoiled and held the little girl closer.
“Who’s watching them?”
“Uh, hello?” The man gestured to himself. “Don’t worry. I feed them three times a day and hose them off very gently.”
“But …” Dave looked over the infants who were mostly blinking at nothing. “Who plays with them?”
“Babies entertain themselves. We have a 100% survival rate and a 97% placement rate. Your foundling will be returned to its proper parents or find new ones within a decade.”
“A decade? That’s like 10% of a human’s life.”
The college boy shrugged. “It will have a 0% survival rate if you leave it in the forest. But if you want to hold onto it—”
“Her. It’s—She’s a little girl.”
“My mistake. If you want to take care of her—”
“Temporarily. Maybe.”
“Until her parents are found. Go wait in that office, and a fairy godmother will be along to give you instructions.”
Dave grimaced. The only thing worse than a college boy was a fairy.
“Just temporary until we can find her parents.”
“Well, if we can’t locate her family within one year, we put her up for adoption.” The college boy answered. “Of course, you can bring her back at any time.”
That calmed Dave considerably, and he glanced down at the little girl who had fallen asleep on top of his feet. “Okay. I’ll talk to the fairy.”
Not a week later, Dave had been doing pretty good feeding and cleaning the baby, trying to train her to do things like fetch a ball and repeat sounds. He felt that babies weren’t as difficult as everyone said except for the waking up in the night and the gooey bits that came out of them from time to time.
Then one day, the little girl wouldn’t stay still, and she wouldn’t stop howling. Dave had the terrible thought of putting the baby in another room and soundproofing the door and then realized he was as bad as the people at the shelter. “Well, at least there you’ll get hosed down and fed by a professional.”
Dave picked up the toddler to bring her back to the shelter and was halfway to the door with the little girl tucked under his arm when he realized he had a team meeting in an hour. He would reschedule it, or phone in, or arrive late, but he had to tell them. So he went back to his desk, and he set the little girl on his knee and started typing the message.
And that’s when he realized the toddler had grown silent.
She was leaning happily against Dave and drooling.
Dave stared at the baby. The baby stared back.
“Oh, you were lonely. How about that.” Dave adjusted the toddler in his arms. “Well, you can sit with me, Little Buddy.”
“You can sit with me, Big Buddy.” Theodora—after the first year had passed, the fairy godmother insisted the child needed a name—patted the couch next to her and called for Dave. “Teeny time.”
“T.V. time soon. Give me a second, Little Buddy.” Dave looked out the window warily at the coming dark and the rising moon. He frantically dialed the babysitter’s phone number again. She wasn’t answering, and she was an hour late.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot.” Dave paced the room while Theodora watched. He ought to have been at the park by now, chowing down on high-calorie snacks and mediating with the crowd of other responsible werewolves.
“Shoop, shoop, shoop.” Theodora repeated and got off the couch to pace in imitation.
“What do I do?” He grimaced as he finally did what he ought to have done half an hour ago and called the shelter.
The college boy answered the phone. “Hello, Daddy.”
“Mr. Mallhorn, we talked about this. This is temporary. I am not her father.”
“Fairy godmother isn’t in right now.”
“I need you to come pick her up.”
“Oh.” The man, for the first time in their acquaintance, sounded serious. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Um … I’ll bring by the papers you need to sign to surrender—”
“What? No! Witch’s claw, no. I just need … one night. It’s the … the full moon, and my sitter ghosted me.”
“Oh! Jazzy. No prob. Um … I’ll be over as soon as my replacement gets in. About 30 minutes.
“You do realize the problem with that timing?”
“Do you have a basement?”
“Yeah, but it’s not set up to hold me.”
“Okay, shortsighted.”
“It’s a rental property.”
“Bold of you to assume a werewolf is going to get a deposit back. You have snacks, right?”
Dave looked at the remnants of the pint of ice cream and half a pizza he’d already eaten. “Yes. I can get through the transformation without losing control—I’m sure of it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I turn into a wolf. She’s a toddler. I can’t …” Dave looked at Theodora who was watching him calmly from the couch. He lowered his voice and controlled his temper. “I don’t want her to see me like that.”
“Um … go outside?”
“She might hurt herself!”
“Okay. Do you have a toddler-proof room where you’re comfortable leaving Little Buddy for a bit?”
“No. I had a babysitter,” Dave growled. “This is what you get for relying on other people. This is why—”
“You’re spiraling, my dude. Do you have duct tape?”
Dave was shocked out of his panic by the request. “Duct tape? Yeah. Why?”
“Human children are very frail. You only need a few stripes of tape to secure her to a wall or to her crib. She’ll cry and scream, but you’ll be out in the wilderness howlin’ it up, and I’ll get there about half an hour later. You haven’t changed your address, right?”
Dave was not proud of himself, but he’d already scooped up Theodora in one hand and the duct tape in the other. “I have not.”
The boy heard Dave start to rip the tape, and he instructed, “Remember, directly on the skin. She’ll shimmy right out of her clothes.”
“You’re a bad caregiver.”
“100% survival rate,” Mallhorn replied.
Dave woke up groggy and hungry and much less tired than usual on nights after the full moon. He was in his own backyard, and the backdoor was splintered open, which was not reassuring. He lifted his head out of the dirt in a panic. “Theo!”
“Cool it, Big Buddy,” the college boy sat on his porch on his phone as usual. “And look down.”
“Where’s—” He did.
There was Theodora curled up and leaning against him, sleeping soundly in her ducky pajamas.
Dave sighed with relief. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Whatever. I get overtime pay.” Mallhorn never looked up from his phone. “You broke down your own door, by the way, and chewed her out of the duct tape.”
Dave faintly remembered pouncing at the wood. He also remembered Theodora looking at him with complete terror.
He hugged the little girl tighter. He’d probably traumatized her forever. “Damn it.”
“Yeah, the living room is a total wreck, too. Hey, did you know we have a program that helps our parents get houses? Also, don’t worry about inviting me in for breakfast or anything. I’ll just hop on to my classes.”
“Good plan.” Dave narrowed his eyes, unwilling to tolerate the punk anymore than he had to. Then he remembered what a favor the kid had done for him. “I … thank you for coming to babysit.”
“Like I said, Overtime. Also, you totally didn’t need me by the way.” Mallhorn got off the porch and wandered over to show Dave his phone. “Check it out.”
Dave carried Theodora nearer and squinted to see the pics. A truly enormous wolf playing tug-of-war with the toddler. And another where Theodora was on his back. And another where the little girl had collapsed against his side and cuddled into the shaggy black fur to sleep.
“So freakin’ cute. I’m gonna plaster this all over the office, by the way.” Mallhorn smirked at the images. “Why haven’t you adopted her yet? Is it because you are a lone wolf or whatever?”
“Once again, Mallhorn. Harmful stereotypes about werewolves.”
“You know, that is actually a stereotype about werewolves and very hurtful.”
Dave could hear his little buddy as soon as he stepped into the library, and it had nothing to do with his supernatural hearing. Theo got loud when she got on her soapbox.
“I’ll have you know my dad has never once rampaged or killed anyone. Just one time when he was in college—and he studied computer science and graduated top of his class and makes a lot of money now as a systems architect—and he got stressed out and ate a cat.”
Dave didn’t know what this passionate monologue was about, but his kneejerk reaction was that Theo, a tiny, bookish eight-year-old, was getting bullied. Clearly, she was trying to intimidate her audience. And Dave had arrived just in time to help.
He clomped up the stairs, ready to huff and puff and scare the shit out of whoever was foolish enough to terrorize his little buddy. Probably, just by flexing and saying very calmly, he’d never eaten a cat. It was a racoon.
The faint laughter floated down from the stairs. The people listening to Theo laughed as if she’d made a joke. Soft quiet voices. Little boys? Why was Theo—? She was only eight. She shouldn’t be talking to boys yet.
Theo wasn’t even supposed to be in the library. She was supposed to be in front of the school. Dave had no idea why she was going in this building and he had only found her by following her scent—which was probably not what you wanted from your dad.
Dave hesitated when he reached the top of the staircase and stood before the doors of the community room. There was a paper pinned to the door with the words “Book Club” on it.
Was Theo in Book Club? Maybe barreling in wasn’t a good ‘dad idea’ either? He scratched his head and tried to decode this difficult new puzzle of parenting.
His own father was more of an example of what not to do, and Dave had adopted Theo six years ago without much planning on his part but with a lot of heart. Dave still didn’t really trust his instinct when it came to Little Buddy.
“Well, well, Big Buddy has come to play?”
Dave flinched because he hadn’t heard or smelled the skinny twink standing around the corner. “Mr. Mallhorn, I’m here for my daughter.”
“Fantastic.” The man lurked in the shadows between book stacks. “She’s in there. Came to attend my book club.”
Dave glared suspiciously. “You … run a book club?”
“Well, Big Buddy, I am a librarian.”
“Oh … oh! Mr. M.” Dave put together suddenly that Mallhorn was one of Theo’s favorite parts of school. She would ramble about Mr. M’s thoughts about books and movies, imitate the man singing complex vocabulary words, and talk about how Mr. M. advised her to be quiet and keep some of her inside feelings from getting on the outside. “Theo really enjoys your … class? Elective?”
He shrugged. “She’s a smart kid. Talks about you all the time.”
Dave felt his cheeks flush, but he couldn’t deny it because Theo was exclaiming excitedly … “Plus, sometimes, on the full moon, we play ball together.”
That was a little more than embarrassing. “She’s supposed to be in front of the school.”
“You know, I worried that you’d be nervous when you couldn’t find her.” Mallhorn crossed his arms. “Theodora insisted it wouldn’t be a problem.”
Theo had made sure it wasn’t a problem, touching every fence, building, and lamp post between the school and the library.
“We’re talking about a book Theo did a report on for class. I invited her to join us today.”
“Ah, good.” Dave smiled, pleased that Theo’s report was well received. Would build confidence. “I’ll wait outside then.”
Mallhorn laughed again, a little impishly. “You know, you can also join us.”
Dave wrinkled his nose at the idea. He didn’t like people. Except Theo.
He heard Theo laugh inside the room, and the rest of the people chuckled along. Theo did like people, and it could not have been easy for her to have a hermit for a dad. Theo would have been better off if it had been a fairy who found her in the woods, or if Dave had left her at the shelter—certainly Mr. Mallhorn hadn’t been as flaky as he appeared. By now, Theo would probably have been adopted into an actual human family.
“We have donuts,” Mallhorn sang, as if free food was enough to tempt him.
Dave narrowed his eyes. Most civilized werewolves had donut parties on the night of full moons to raise their calories to prepare for double transformations. Was there something specist about being offered donuts? Of course not, everyone loved donuts.
It was enough for Dave to shake his head and turn back to the stairs.
But suddenly the door bopped open and Theo stuck her head out. “Hey, Big Buddy! I thought I … I thought that was you.”
She was all smiles and pointed at Mallhorn. “Did you meet Mr. M?”
“About seven years ago, kiddo,” Mallhorn said and put his finger to his lips.
Theo immediately softened her voice. “Dad! I’m going to Book Club, and we’re going to talk about that one you and I read together. The one with all the short stories about creepy things.”
“Read together?” Mr. Mallhorn said. “Does your alpha know you can read?”
“Shut up! I don’t have an—”
Mallhorn and Theo both put their finger to their lips and it was Dave’s turn to whisper. But he found he had nothing more to say. Mallhorn’s mischievous smile was too friendly, too familiar, and it made Dave bristle and pleased him at the same time. “I … we like to read together.”
“Come on,” Theo took his hand and tugged him into the conference room. “They have coffee and donuts.”
“Actually, I think I’ll just take a run around the block and—”
The entirety of the book club was looking at him. Young and old, mostly women. There was a general feeling of nervousness looking up at him, towering over this joyful bubbling eight-year-old, as if he was about to pick up the girl and hurl her into the wall.
So contrarily, Dave followed where his little buddy led, which was to a bean bag on the floor.
“Everyone this is Dave and Theodora Longmane. They’ll be joining us today to talk about Edgar Allan Poe.” Mallhorn sat in the circle.
“That’s it!” Theo shouted. “Edgar Allan Poe stories. Like the one with the Usher House and the Red Death and the—”
Dave put his hand over her mouth and she giggled and squirmed. Mallhorn went on talking, explaining that Theo had written a report about the stories and was very excited. He completely ignored the wary eyes the ladies of the club were giving Dave and didn’t hear when one of the men leaned over to another and said, “Did Patrick invite a werewolf to Book Club?”
Patrick? Mallhorn’s first name was Patrick? Dave had never thought to ask the human for his first name.
“Theo, wouldn’t your dad be more comfortable in a chair?” Mallhorn asked.
Theo was already curling into his lap as if Dave was her chair. “Oh. Big Buddy, do you want to sit in a chair?”
Dave shook his head, keeping his girl in his lap like she was a security blanket. “Nope. We’re good.”
The book club met weekly. They read classic short stories and occasionally novellas that Patrick chose. Like for the holidays they read A Christmas Carol and talked mostly about their favorite movie version. Theo had liked that. She had Opinions about that.
Patrick occasionally cleared titles with Dave before assigning them. Usually when it was Dave’s turn to help put the chairs back in order and clean up the snacks so the librarian didn’t have too.
“So I was thinking of Hills like White Elephants.
“The Hemmingway story?” Dave asked.
“I love Hemmingway!” Theo had proudly declared.
“You love Old Man and the Sea,” Dave corrected. “And you mostly like the voices.”
Patrick had smiled in his secret way at that.
“Yeah, but that means I like Hemmingway,” Theo replied.
Dave had shrugged. “We can read Hills, but she won’t get it.”
“Yes, I will,” Theo insisted and jumped onto the chair dolly.
“Okay,” Dave shrugged again and lifted the chair dolly to bring to the closet. “If you say so.”
“You know,” Patrick said, “you’re supposed to roll the dolly? Not lift it.”
Dave glanced at the chair dolly and his little buddy hanging on to keep the chairs in place. “Oh … if you want.” And he put it down again to roll it toward the closet. Felt like it took longer. And when Theo didn’t jump off the dolly, he rolled the little girl into the closet and closed the door on her. The kid giggled, amused and banged on the door.
“Quiet down. You’re in the library,” Dave said and leaned against the door to keep it closed. Then he crossed his arms and looked at Patrick. “If you think it will make people uncomfortable to have the kid in the room, save it for, uh …” He checked his watch for the next full moon. “Two weeks from now.”
Patrick looked surprised. “Oh. Um … okay. You won’t be here? Family event?”
“It gets dark early this time of year,” Dave shrugged.
“Oh, course!” Patrick realized. “Full moon and you’re a werewolf.”
“Did you forget?” Dave raised his brows. It was certainly forefront of a lot of the book club’s minds. They had a tendency to talk about a character's aggression and uncontrollable urges and cast a glance in Dave’s direction. “You know a lot of men who carry ten chairs, a dolly, and an eight-year-old in one hand?”
“That’s not a werewolf trait. Not all werewolves are strong.”
“Most of us are strong,” Dave resisted.
“Yeah, because most of you work out,” Patrick teased. “It helps with the zoomies.”
Dave smirked. Zoomies. That was funny.
“Isn’t that one of the … hold on, I was just reading about this. The diligences of belonging to a pack? Control of mind and body,” Patrick asked.
“I’m not part of a pack.” Dave came out of his lean, straightening a little bit and bristling as he always did when someone started talking about the diligences. “I mean, yes, control of mind and body is definitely one of the things you need to be in a pack. But also, I just like working out.”
Patrick looked awkwardly at the floor. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be ignorant and I hope I’m not coming across as specist or anything. I was just curious about—”
“Oh no. I didn’t think that. I mean, I was raised in a pack, but this close to the city—” Dave’s father … his whole pack … had turned on him when he had the outlandish idea that he could go to college and survive in the city. “I mean, packs and cities don’t really go well together. My pack—well, that ignorance goes both ways.”
Patrick started to say something, then reconsidered and went back to stacking the coffee mugs.
Dave wondered—not for the first time since he’d started attending Book Club—what Patrick was thinking. If he had offended the pretty little man. He hoped he had not. He wanted Patrick to like him—mostly for Theo’s sake, but also, a little for himself. The guy had always been funny—annoying—but now he’d grown into his sass. Or maybe it was just that, every once in a while, Dave caught the man staring in his direction or caught the faint but very masculine scent of arousal. It was usually washed out by the perfume from the old ladies, or the fear pheromones from the rest of the group. And it probably wasn’t even for him. There were plenty of pretty young ladies in the group for Patrick to swoon over.
There was a tiny clicking of the metal chairs inside the closet, and Dave knew his little buddy had climbed on top of them.
“Anyways, we better get cleaned up before the librarians attack.” Dave knocked on the door. “Little Buddy, did you die or something? You got awful quiet.”
Patrick snickered.
“No. You told me to be quiet,” Theo protested.
“Since when do you listen to me?” Dave caught Patrick’s eyes and gestured for him to take a step back.
The man cocked his head, not understanding, but obediently stepped aside.
As soon as Dave opened the closet door, the girl launched herself at Dave, little fingers spread like claws and mouth huge in a grin. Dave caught her at once and spun her upside down. “Too noisy, Little Buddy.”
Theo kept squirming, swinging, and giggling. Patrick laughed delightedly.
And Dave smiled, feeling very at home with both of them, happy he belonged to book club, and hopeful in way he had never felt and couldn’t quite name.
~ End of Part I
~ Watch for the Sagittarius Romance Edition next month (Dec. 2023) to read Part II.
L.J. Longo is an award-winning Romance author, a queer geek, and feminist writing a medley of dark romance (which can be found through Evernight Publishing), magical realism, weird sci-fi/fantasy, and very implausible creative non-fiction. She recently received Third Place recognition for her submission to the Writer’s Digest Annual Short Story Fiction Contest with her entry titled, "To Harvest Lavender." Coming Soon: LJs queer fiction, “The Stranded Sky Castle” will be featured in the Alpha Male anthologies from Evernight Publishing.
Connect to L.J. on Facebook, L.J.'s Twitter page, or L.J. on Instagram.
Publisher’s Note:
ANNOUNCEMENT - As 2023 is preparing to shift into 2024, I’ve been feeling the current of my own Dharma stream shifting into deeper waters. My love of all things astrological and ethereal go far beyond the 12 zodiacs and governing angels that we’ve explored during Dharma Direction’s first two years.
Third-generation Taurus traits run strong in my DNA, but I also follow the Chinese zodiac philosophies (which only come around once every 12 years). And the upcoming year is bringing with it the fiery forces of my other sign: The Dragon.
Additionally, since I was a young girl, I’ve been intrigued by the powers of Mother Earth and the various ways different groups celebrate, mark, and cultivate the changing seasons of life. I have author Jean M. Auel to partially thank for this; her Clan of the Cave Bear series of books sparked my interest in the ways in which ancient people revered the planet along with all of its flora and fauna.
Finally, I am spiritually connected to Mother Earth through my own Native American ancestry. As a bloodline descendant of a small Northern California tribe known as the Wintu, I’ve always been drawn to the power and vibration of the traditions that indigenous people hold dear.
Taking all these factors into consideration during several intense meditation sessions, I allowed my spirit to explore my own personal timeline for clarity as I prepare to move forward into 2024. Visions—brought by the Muse Angels—were breathtaking. And big! I could see my Dharma path very clearly, even though it lay somewhat behind me … elevated and curving up and away as if my timeline were elongated, interlocking spheres. Like Spirograph art.
This is when I knew that it was time to slow down, adjust my trajectory, and prepare (think: Apollo 13 in 1970) for the slingshot around my own metaphorical moon. To do this, Dharma Direction is changing directions (slightly).
Next year, we’re bringing you:
Curated Quarterly Editions (rather than weekly)
Revolving around the seasonal phases of Earth and Sky
With an emphasis on exploring myriad avenues for connecting with Mother Earth
Dharma Direction’s Sagittarius Editions (Dec. 2023) will include more details in each “Publisher’s Notes” section about the upcoming 2024 new format and refocus. I’m very excited about digging into deeply rooted customs, ceremonies, and beliefs of (what I call) ‘Earth-kind’—they’re like humankind but even better.
Many blessings to everyone,
~ Debbie Abbott, publisher/editor
#gowiththeflow