Dusk before dawn...

I was skimming my files and happened across the following passage, a new ending in my novella Night Bird. Written years ago, this is still a favorite story for me.
Although it deals with death and the unknown, it also leans toward the possibilities of something more. That death is not the end, but the beginning..   

*   *   * 

       Heavy clouds shadowed the courtyard like a widow’s cloak, the wind coming inland like a sigh. Rattling chains from a pair of shackles broke the eerie silence as a young man of nineteen was led across the plank floor. Somber steps tread cautiously as if each was his last…and indeed it was.

       The lad tottered precariously upon the rickety scaffold, his thin body shaking from the icy chill that seemed ever-present in the prison. He turned toward the pocked face henchman as a thick noose was placed around his neck. Mind weary and weak from starvation, the lad trembled with a fear of what was to come.

       “Billy Ray, you were found guilty of helping yourself to His Majesty’s stables, thus sentenced to hang for your crimes,” the hangman began in a dreary tone. “Have ye’ any last confessions?” he said, cocking an unruly brow. The jailer’s wide mouth twisted with a mocking smile. “Or any last requests, boy?” His laughter filled the platform and echoed throughout the yard.

        The lad’s shoulders sagged beneath the cumbersome weight of the rope. A gusty wind picked up, howling mournfully, and causing his tattered sleeves and torn britches to whip tight around him outlining the frailness of his body. Billy struggled to remain on his feet. An ugly bruise marred his cheek as the wind tugged at his hair. Even at a distance the scars circling his wrists where the steel manacles had been were visible.

        “Well?” the jailer prodded. “Have ye’ nothin’ to say fer’ yerself?”

Night Bird can be read free on Kindle Unlimited or purchased for .99 cents. 

Check it out. 

Blurb: Travis Howland washes up on the shores of Lost Isle and into the arms of an angel. 

Known as the Night Bird, Emma Samson dedicates her afterlife to a solitary existence of Lost Isle, easing the passage of the dying. When she finds Travis near death and desperate, she gives him a unique gift- a few more days to settle his affairs before his death. 
Sorely lacking in faith, Travis lives life with no thought for the future. When his lovely rescuer claims he has died, he's determined to tie up loose ends. He must warn his father that their ship was plundered by a greedy business partner. Only a leap of faith can save him. 
Together, Emma and Travis use his last hours to avenge the traitorous deeds that torment him, and along the way discover that love can be found at any stage of life...even after death,

https://www.amazon.com/Night-Bird-Teresa-Blue-ebook/dp/B015LDXAK2/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1510405822&sr=1-1&keywords=Night+Bird+Teresa+Blue

Letters From Inside

Letters From Inside, a romantic suspense with a chilling concept- the dangers that lurk around every corner. I'm thrilled to at last have the opportunity to share with you some of what I love best about the novel.  

The idea-

I love to be creeped out. Any unexpected noise sends me jumping off my seat, hands to mouth and eyes sqeezed shut.

                                   The dedication reads -

        This one is for me. Because it started with a simple evening drive.

And the squeal of your tires as you recklessly sped past.

              You nearly ran me off the road and

                          Your blurry gaze left me wondering…

                                  If you were coming back.

If you're curious how it all began: read about here-  

http://www.tereasa-thingfinder.blogspot.com/2015/02/coming-soon-letters-from-inside.html

A great thing about being an author is typing along, making stuff up in your mind and -wham! Your character lets loose. Its like- OMG, I can’t believe I wrote that!


Here's a sample of the things that popped up when I least expected.

Jessie, the darling daughter that has foolishly been exchanging letters with a prison pen-pal.

“Guess what I ask him?” Her girlish giggles erupted and she dropped her voice barely above a whisper. “If they really make license plates,” she said and snorted with laughter. “Can you imagine? I get my permit next year. I could probably get a discount on my tags.”

The worst part...she signed her mom's name to the letters!! Yikes! No doubt Linda has her hands full.

Detective Tom Harrington tries to stop the parole.

 At the parole hearing Tom watched Jenkins practically bouncing in his seat, his eyes and face flushed with excitement, and wondered if any minute the guy would raise his hands and give a testimony.
"I got plans," Jenkins said, "once I'm released. My lady's got everything I ever wanted. A big house, and lots of land for farming. Lots of possibilities. I going to spend my days farming, fishing, and well, you know, it's been a long time. "

A peaceful evening at home is brought to a screeching hault....
The ringing telephone brought Linda back to reality. “Hello,” she answered. There was no response, just dead silence. “Who is this?” she said firmly. The only response she got was heavy breathing.

“Who was it, Mom?” Jessie asked. “Anyone for me?”

Linda’s cheeks flushed as she struggled to keep a lid on her feelings. “I don’t know because whoever it was didn’t want to talk, preferring to slobber into the phone instead.” She glared in Jessie’s direction. “On second thought, maybe it was for you.”

And then there's the sex-pervert Carl Jenkins and his high hopes for them. Branded since he was fifteen in the juvie with a time-dot, Carl's been sneaking into homes and windows for a long time.
As a boy....
When he first arrived tonight, it had been his intention to see her eyes beaming with pleasure at the gift he'd brought her. But now, before he left, he needed to see them shining with gratitude. Gratitude that he'd allowed her to live.


He’s crept in through the bedroom window and waited for the perfect opportunity to get better acquainted.

“I came bearing gifts, and I expect a few trinkets in return.” He leaned down and nuzzled Linda on the neck. “I’m game for whatever it takes. Even if it takes all night long.”
There was nothing gentle as he continued to kiss her, his breathing growing heavy...rapid. Strong arms imprisoned her like bands of steel. He finds their weakness, Tom had said.

Secondary characters are such fun. Meet Flo, a loveable waitress who made the mistake of loving the wrong man.
"Is everything all right?" she asked, lightly touching his shoulder. She kissed his cheek. Her harispray stung his eyes. "You're sweaty. Why don't you take off your hat while I get you a beer? I've got a surprise for you."
By the time he turned around, she'd aready hurried back to the stove, lifted the pan and shook it vigorously, sending the glazed shrimp around the rim without dropping a single one and then set the pan back on the burner. Despite her size, she flitted around the kitchen like a hubbing bird, swift and precise.
He pressed the hat's knit edges around his ears and slowly unrolled the stocking cap into place, pausing to adjust the material across his nose and eyes before finally covering the rest of his face.
"I've got a surprise for you, too."



Ooooh, he is such a bad dude!

I hope you'll check it out and let me know what  you think. And thank you so much for dropping by!

https://www.amazon.com/Letters-Inside-Teresa-Blue-ebook/dp/B00TP2I6HI/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1495110177&sr=8-4&keywords=teresa+blue

Be there or be square!

Coming to a library near you! 

Words

Words are powerful and have the ability to hurt, heal, and seal the deal into a promise of a lifetime.

I had never really thought about it when I was younger but I always knew I had the ability to weasel out of a situation by quick thinking and a silver tongue. Sure, it didn’t always work but not because I didn’t try. Seeing my mother standing in the doorway looking at her watch with the dark leather snake hanging at her side was encouragement enough to dig deeper and give it another go.

I later learned this is called lying, or stretching the truth. Fabricating. And soon after discovered ways to enhance my …um, silver tongue by using it to my advantage. 

I write fiction.

That's right. The stories I pen are false. Not real. They happen in my head. I dreamed it all up.

It’s funny how something we struggled with during infancy, drooling and gurgling until finally popping out a recognizable word, suddenly opens up a whole new audience.

Not only are Mom and Pop looking on gleefully, but they’re shoving you front and center into a whole set of on-lookers while you proudly babble off this remarkable talent. Seriously, I remember being the only one in Sunday school singled out to sing Jesus Loves Me. My brother sat in the pew making faces. Geesh...what an experience.

Um...but back to words and their marvelous magical substance they possess.

Upon entering school one of the best thing I remember is my introduction to Jane, Dick and Spot, bold printed simple words that opened up a whole other group of friends. Books. Page after page of words delivered in such a way I’m changed, transformed, no longer the same. Because of words.

The Bee Gees said it best, “It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away.”