Well this was a long week. A wedding in Colorado, a family reunion in Ohio and look was was waiting for me when I got back
Date Night is my first love story, about a couple of young lovers celebrating their wedding anniversary. This is just one of the stories in the anthology Elmwood Stories to die for. Currently available at all online book stores. (amazon, barns & nobles, etc) Or contact me for an autographed copy.
Stories To Die For
The amazing storytellers of Malice in Memphis specialize in taking historical locations and fictionally embellishing them with new characters, mysteries, and murder. They have now taken on Memphis’ finest and oldest active burial ground, the famous Elmwood Cemetery.
Founded in 1852, it is the final resting place of over 75,000 residents. From the common to the infamous, from the powerful to the famous, they are all here. The tapestry of life and death in the Mid-South is laid out in a beautiful garden cemetery with sweeping vistas, massive ancient trees, and spectacular monuments from the Victorian age to modern sculptures.
Malice in Memphis is now adding their special touch to the myriad of stories drifting among the mausoleums.
The Tales:
A Love Story by Mary Balsamo
An Elmwood Misadventure by Juanita D. Houston
A Part to Die For by Richard Powell
Bloodline, by Angelyn Sherrod
Date Night by Larry Hoy
Forget Me Nots by Elaine Meece
From Hair to Eternity by Phyllis Appleby
Grave Robbers by Kristi Bradley
Graveyard Grace by Barbara Christopher
Headshrinker by Susan Wooten
Hold Please by Lynn Maples
One Dare Too Many by Annette Miller
Public Death Private Murder by Carolyn McSparren
The 21st Battalion Will March at Dawn by Dutch Warren
The Furnace Room by James C. Paavola
The Yellow Fever Revenge by Jackie Ross Flaum
Unsolved Forever by Thomas Kienzle
A Very Worthy Human Being by Richard Powell
Returning to Russwood Park by Barbara Christopher
One Big Foot in the Grave by Phyllis Appleby
Rainbow Lake by Kristi Bradley
Fort Pillow Escape by Juanita D. Houston
Holding On To You by Angelyn Sherrod
I’m a big fan of finding and supporting local talent, being a writer keeps you humble. So please indulge me for a moment.
My buddy and I were out rolling around on our bikes. It was Friday and the wind was calling. After about fifty miles or so, we took the long way there wishing it was just a little longer, we arrived at a Harley Davidson dealer that was celebrating the weekend with a live band and burgers. Bryan and I eventually found ourselves nursing a couple beers as the sun slipped away. The band was playing some old rock and roll, and all was right with the world.
This is when Todd showed up. He was taking steps to become a famous photographer, and he was out taking shots of the bikes. I told him I’m trying to become a famous writer, we all have a dream don’t judge. Anyway, I asked if he would take some shots of me and my bike, in exchange for a mention on Facebook. He graciously agreed, saying he wanted to try out some new lenses for his camera anyway.
The next day the pictures were in my email, and they were great. I even use one of his pictures on my Amazon author’s page, see famous I’m on Amazon.
I was so excited that I started working to get some more stories completed, so everyone would have a reason to visit my Amazon page and see the picture.
You know what I forgot to do? I never told a soul about Todd . Hell, I never even said thank-you.
So, first I want to say, if you are needing a really good and very understanding photographer in the greater Memphis Area. I have two words for you Todd Stinnett. (I’ll link to his FB page.) He does really great work, you are going to be pleased.
to Todd, the picture looks great. I love it, as a matter o’ fact, I’m going to use your picture on my Amazon page. Thanks for the shot, and I really am very sorry this took so long in coming.
Your Friend,
Larry (I’ll get right on that) Hoy
His page: Todd Stinnett the Photographer
What a busy few days.
What to do next? Find another short story or…. Start a novel? It is almost time to put up or shut up. I’m also going to add a link to my Amazon page. OOOOOOhhhhh AAAAAhhhhh This was you can find all my stuff in one area.
For those that have missed it I still have a few copies of Potter Field 6 – The collection that includes my breakout story “Road trip to Lynchburg.” Contact me directly to order a signed copy.
Writer – Biker – Legend
And it’s in the mail, or either, or internet, wherever. It is off, out of the nest. My fourth short story was just sent off to my publisher. So here I sit with a glass of bourbon. The estimated release is fall ’17. This is my first attempt at a love story. So now we wait.
For those of you keeping track I have two stories in limbo. My editors / publishers are working hard to make them a reality. I have already picked my next short. It is going to be a Christmas story. The finished product is due by the end of July. I still have a lot to do before it is ready to fly.
I also am going to make another new year’s resolution. (I’m 2 for 3 on those for this year.) Starting July I’m going to complete a short story every month. Yea, that is small for many of my writer friends, but I am still doing this for fun. Anyway Bourbon time. Have a great one. Date Night was released for publication tonight.
The Holidays bring me back to Ohio, while I hoped to have an official book signing at my old Library in New Lebanon, things didn’t work out. Bummer….
Anyway, for those in the Dayton Area, I have the last few copies of the FIRST printing of Potters Field 6. Talking with the publisher, he told me that he is making a second run.
So if you have yet, to get a copy of my first short story, contact me right away. I’ll be in Ohio for just a short time, and some of that time, I’ll be riding.
See you on the roads.
Reporters are trained to develop a sixth sense, a nose for when the story seems fishy. And something about this one wasn’t right. First of all, The gun was still in his hand. I guess most people don’t know this but I have seen a few suicides. The victim, or are they the killer when it’s a suicide. Either way the person always drops to go. One of the cops found the gun fell from the person sand and under a couch that was a mysterious night. But finding the person with the gun still in there and impossible well least very improbable. Something else is his phone was in his left pants pocket. That would imply the victim yeah I think this guys really a victim. Was probably left-handed but the gun in his right. Next thing from what I know with the skies he had no reason to kill himself. A bank manager is not a super high stress job and it pays fairly well. There might of been some outside forces at work here. I’ll check on that tomorrow. OK, circumstantial evidence doesn’t add up. But he locked he locked himself in the bank vault there was no one else around. I even checked the video camera myself each at the end of the day he goes and locking the door behind him at night. With the time like he couldn’t have opened it if you wanted to. I’m missing something but what? How? Why? I know the corners going to call this a suicide that well and the investigation right there. But I don’t see it I don’t see suicide. I’m not sure what I see but I don’t see but I don’t think we have the whole picture yet.
I had another short story that was accepted for a soon to be released anthology. Estimated release date is May 2017. The story is:
Gravedigger
This story takes place in the early 1900’s, at Elmwood Cemetery. The story is about the gravedigger. He has a bad habit of taking his work home with him.
This will be included in the new anthology from the Malice In Memphis writing club. Included stories will be a collection of mystery, horror, and ghost stories that take place around the city of Memphis. Especially the Memphis in May celebration. The working title for this anthology is Malice in May. Stay tuned for more news.
How did you know? I asked, not sure I wanted the answer. I thought I’ve been careful, I thought she…
would never be able to break me. I looked over myself seeing everything again for the first time. I was tied to a wooden chair with wet leather straps my feet were in a metal pan of water my head hung loose sweat and blood dripping from my face and hair. They were cuts all along my body. One of my hands was wrapped in a bloody rag hiding the amount of damage. I could see burn marks running along the sides of my ribs. As I looked over my ruined and bloody body I slowly came aware that I didn’t feel any pain. Looking over myself I felt the strangest sensation as if I was looking over a stranger. I was shocked by the fact I barely recognize the body as my own. I delicately tried to move the leg. The leg sled just a fraction. The ankle was also tied to the chair when I was able to move my leg I could see the smear from the puddle of blood that I was apparently sitting in. Still there was no pain. I looked up to my tormentor a smile of satisfaction crossed her face.
“How did you know?” I asked again.
“It’s my job to know these things. I know exactly what you are. I know how to make you talk. I know how to make you bleed. I know how to kill you. And I know how to make your last few hours on this earth the most painful. Your life is almost over and all that’s going to be left of you will be an example for the others. Now please forgive me I have work to finish.”
Perhaps it was a dream, she thought. Perhaps if she pissed yourself, she would wake up. But she didn’t wake up. She wanted to stay in this dream world where….
There was no pain. She spread her arms and slowly drifted off the floor. Not sure if it was her will or someone else that brought her off the floor. Not sure and not caring.
She looked left and then right looking for… There on the south wall was an open window. She twisted her shoulders and her body instantly responded. No longer quietly rising now soaring around the room. Quickly gaining speed as the shot on wildly then a quick twist of her hips and she shot off in another direction. She flew low just over the heads of the others in the library everyone just stared at her and she flew through the room. One second she zoomed across the ceiling and then she dove and zipped between the legs of a giraffe statue that separated the children section from the adult section of the library. The children were gathering in the lobby some were pointing some Heather arms out wildly hoping they would slowly start to rise off the ground. It was a time to go she thought it as her eyes searched for the open window she spotted earlier. There she rolled her body one last time and drew a beeline to the open window she spotted earlier. She looked back and she fled out the window. The last thing she saw was her old black leather wheelchair.