THE EAGLE HAS LANDED!!

Okay, this isn't just some wild-haired (in his imagination) guy's hallucination any longer. Today I received the first shipment of my books (see link and disregard the nonsense about the cover image), and on Saturday they'll receive their public debut at the Wooden Keg Tavern in Saint Clair, Schuylkill County, PA. Those of you who were so kind as to place advance orders should begin to see your copies very soon. Needless to say, this is all very exciting. Excuse me while I go pop a bottle of champagne.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I wish a happy Thanksgiving to all my faithful readers -- both of you. Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! Look! I'm on international TV!!

Saturday December 1, 2007

6 – 8 pm

Multi-Author

Book Signing

Keg Tavern presented by 1

The Wooden Keg Tavern and the Coal Region Book Nook Authors

Molly Maguire, Mining and Schuylkill County Historical Novels and Documentaries

Authors Thomas Barrett * Loretta Murphy * Clemson Page * Mary Slaby * Stu Richards * Steve Varonka

THE TUNNEL ROOM

The Wooden Keg Tavern

1 W. Caroline Ave.

Saint Clair Pa 17970

570 429 1909

TALBOTT ON THE TRAIL: A Clem MacDougall Adventure, Take IV

IV. TALBOTT ESCAPES -- OR DOES HE? [When Talbott awoke, he had no idea how much time had passed since he'd gagged down the woman's brew and blacked out. He was still tied to the chair, and the room was dark except for a faint glow from embers in the great stone fireplace and a spectral glow of moonlight from the open doorway. He saw movement in the tiny cleared space outside, and he heard muttered syllables in what sounded like a foreign language.] He continued his report in MacDougall’s office: "Did ye hear what she was sayin'?" MacDougall asked. "I heard the name 'MacDougall.' That's all I could make out. Look, I don't know what she was mutterin' out there in the moonlight. I was still tied to a chair in the cabin, remember. But there was these three rocks out there. She kept circlin' around 'em an' pourin' this nasty stuff from the pot on 'em -- first thing she done that made any sense to me, pourin' that mess out on the ground. I could hear it hiss an' crackle when it hit them stones. I bet it musta smelt like a hundred dead mules bakin' in the noonday sun. Then -- damnedest thing ya ever saw -- them stones commenced to glow, like, and make little sparks like when ya strike flint an' steel together, an' the old woman chuckles to herself like ya'd of thought she just baked a extra good pan of fudge brownies or somethin'. "When she come back inside, I made like I was still conked out. I'd been workin' my wrists around and I'd got one of the ropes just loose enough so I could slip my hand out. So I sits there and pretends I'm asleep or out cold, and the woman whispers somethin' like 'Mountain Annie strikes again' -- Mountain Annie -- I guess that's the name she uses when she ain't busy bein' Gladys Weingarten -- and then she lays down on this little bed against the wall an' inside of three minutes she's snorin' and snortin' loud enough to wake the dead. "Soon as I was pretty sure Annie was asleep, I made short work of gettin' myself untied. Did I ever tell ya Harry Houdini was a boyhood hero of mine? I was kinda woozy from hunger and thirst and whatever was in that sludge they poured down my gob. I don't know how long I was out cold. What day is this, anyway?" "Friday." "Friday. Okay. I went up the hill Tuesday noon. So I musta been there Tuesday night, Wednesday night. Woke up Thursday. Yesterday. Late." "What did ye do after ye got loose?" "Took me a few minutes to shake the pins an' needles outta my hands an' feet. Then, quiet as you please, I tiptoes over to the table and picks up the big book and makes my way toward the door. But I forgot somethin'. I forgot all witches have cats. And all cats have tails -- at least this one did. "This cat had a pretty healthy voice, too. At first I thought I'd stepped on a snake. Next thing you know, there's a screech that sets my hairs on end and damn near makes me drop the book, and this big damn cat has all 97 of its claws an' teeth buried in my leg. Scared the hell outta me, I'll tell you. I'm really gonna have to charge ya extra for this job, Mr. Mac." "Damn ye, Talbott, ye're no gettin' paid at all if ye don't get on with your report. Now get on with it afore I lose me temper." "Okay, okay. Relax. So I shakes the cat off my leg and I takes off like a shot out the door, no idea where I'm goin', but runnin' like the devil's after me with a red-hot brandin' iron -- which, as it turns out, ain't too far from the truth. I charge off down this little path, clutchin' this big old book to my chest like it's my last bottle of booze. And I start in askin' myself: where did the gorilla guy get to, anyway? And how the hell do I get myself into these things? I start askin' myself all these questions as low-hangin' branches are tearin' my face to ribbons. Now, all of a sudden, I can hear somebody -- or something -- chasin' me down that path. And gainin' on me from the sound of it. "Bastard must have eyes like a cat, I tells myself -- wait! "Yeah! Eyes like a cat, I says to myself. Damn! Witches have cats, I says to myself. Witches' cats are demons an' shape-shifters, I says to myself! Or demons an' shape-shifters dress up like witches' cats! "So all this is racin' through my mind while I stumbles down the trail, just tryin' to see what's in front of me. And I hears the creature's footsteps just behind me. It's breathin' heavy and growlin', like. Just behind me, just behind me, just behind...." FADE TO BLACK.