I will also be including a signed (8.5 x 11) poster cover of Fantastik along with a bookmark for all winners. Giveaway ends tomorrow 2/10
Charlie stood in the entrance to the back room. Jake sat in the same seat he’d been in that past Sunday. He was stoic as always...he had a whiskey in front of him.
“Thanks for calling,” Charlie said.
“He was a Caspian,” Jake replied. Staring into his shot glass he continued, “A rare breed, arguably the oldest breed of horses that still exists, but that’s not what made him special. That horse had heart. That horse had feelings…no different than yours or mine. He was shot dead by some crackers out joy riding from town. He was shot because he was owned by niggers. That horse was the only true friend I ever had. I buried ’im myself, and from that day on I stopped feeling. I put ’im on my shoulder when I came back from ’Nam.”
“What was his name?” Charlie whispered.
Jake looked up from his shot glass, his eyes went wide and his expression softened. “Thunder,” Jake replied. “He was born wild on a dirt road called Thunder.”
Jake motioned to an empty chair across the table from him. “Have a seat.”
Praise for Fantastik
"Extraordinary story...will think of it for a long time and recommend it to others for its amazing plot, extraordinary characters, and insight into two troubled souls."
—Writers Digest Judge, 2014
Charlie stood in the entrance to the back room. Jake sat in the same seat he’d been in that past Sunday. He was stoic as always...he had a whiskey in front of him.
“Thanks for calling,” Charlie said.
“He was a Caspian,” Jake replied. Staring into his shot glass he continued, “A rare breed, arguably the oldest breed of horses that still exists, but that’s not what made him special. That horse had heart. That horse had feelings…no different than yours or mine. He was shot dead by some crackers out joy riding from town. He was shot because he was owned by niggers. That horse was the only true friend I ever had. I buried ’im myself, and from that day on I stopped feeling. I put ’im on my shoulder when I came back from ’Nam.”
“What was his name?” Charlie whispered.
Jake looked up from his shot glass, his eyes went wide and his expression softened. “Thunder,” Jake replied. “He was born wild on a dirt road called Thunder.”
Jake motioned to an empty chair across the table from him. “Have a seat.”
Praise for Fantastik
"Extraordinary story...will think of it for a long time and recommend it to others for its amazing plot, extraordinary characters, and insight into two troubled souls."
—Writers Digest Judge, 2014
https://www.amazon.com/C.-A.-McGroarty/e/B00KS74TLQ/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
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