Today’s Your Lucky Day

A steal…! This final adventure involving Huck and Molly will have you turning pages to see if they make it. When the wolves show up and begin stalking our friends, you’ll be turning pages to see whether the two- leggeds or the four-leggeds win. And you’ll cheer at the outcome of that encounter. So, if you haven’t bought this book yet, now’s the time. (Why are you still “here” and not at Amazon??)

Andrew Joyce

You can get Resolution: Huck Finn’s Greatest Adventure for only $0.99!!!

Click To See on Amazon

Averaging 4.9 stars out of 5 on Amazon.

A few reviews:

“I was mostly on the edge of my seat – the action doesn’t stop, but there is so much wit, love, and just plain fabulous life in this story, I loved it all the way through. Andrew Joyce is the real deal, and an awesome storyteller in his own right, right up there with Mr Twain.” — Jo Robinson, Feed My Reads

“In each of his books, Andrew Joyce uses the setting as almost another character.  We see the “Wild West” growing up, getting tamed by settlers, farmers, the railroad. We see Alaska just starting to face those same challenges. Despite its bare bones approach to sensory descriptions, the spare prose and dialog convey the overwhelming and impersonal power, beauty, and threat of the…

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This entry was posted on April 21, 2017. 2 Comments

Thriving Thursdays: Fear or Courage? (Guest Post by Teagan Riordain Geneviene)

Sage words….

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Hi, I’m Teagan Geneviene.  Today I’m doing a guest post for our wonderful Story Telling Ape.  I’m here to encourage you to thrive.

Today I’m not thinking about how daring the feat was.  Nor am I wondering how dangerous the situation was.  I’m not even considering what extraordinary valor may have been involved.

How brave is someone when they do something they don’t fear?  Are they braver than the person who trembles in terror? 

Fear can hold us back.  But to overcome fear is to thrive.  If you see a person, daunted by distress, who dives into the fray despite their dread — then you have witnessed courage.

Courage is being scared to death — and saddling up anyway…  John Wayne

john-wayne_courage-2

Wishing you a thriving Thursday.

Mega hugs,

Teagan

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This entry was posted on April 20, 2017. 1 Comment

Led astray?

a dancing delight of a tale!

Tallis Steelyard

dancing class

If you listened to the gossip whispered behind fluttering fans, you’d be convinced that Yale Belom was a philanderer of some standing. Yet between ourselves, a more loyal family man never drew breath. Yes he had his weakness, but his was more that he tended to say what seemed good at the time.

He had at one point described himself as a poet. The cruel might say that it was a stage he was going through; but I think that would be too unkind. To declare yourself a poet is to lay claim to an honourable estate. I almost remember one of his poems. It was short and called ‘The Artisan’s Lament.’ With the passing of years all I can remember is that he managed to produce a complex internal rhyming scheme which rhymed ballcock, stopcock, buttock, pillock and instruct, in a poem barely two lines long. I know at…

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Insulin, Pancreas’ And Cures Oh My!

A fabulous writer, a bittersweet (true) story., gifted to us by one fabulous little lass!

Aoibha Walsh

My levels are low, I’m starving, I’m full, I’m freezing, I’m warm, I’m everything.

The above are basically what a type one diabetic could feel every single day. For those of you who didn’t know, I’ve had type on diabetes for six and a half years and let me tell you it can be a right pain in the butt. I started out with having to give myself up to six to nine injections a day. Each before every meal, limiting the amount I could eat, no snacking without checking your levels on a blood glucose meter etc.

Type one diabetes occurs when the immune system attacks the insulin producing beta cells in the pancreas. While that happens, the pancreas starts producing less and less insulin resulting in the blood sugar levels go high. This is called a “honeymoon”. It is often dangerous if not been diagnosed soon.

Four years…

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This entry was posted on April 19, 2017. 1 Comment

‘Nough Said

Andrew Joyce

It’s 3:07 a.m. and I am thinking of you, my love. I am also thinking, How did I ever get myself into a mess like this? I am hiding in a culvert—a cement pipe—under a farm road I found myself on; I am a hunted man. Still, my thoughts are of you. The water flows around my ankles, and it is cold. For the moment, I’ve thrown the hounds off the scent. I hear their barking and baying retreating in the distance.

Perhaps, my love, I should start at the beginning.

Do you remember the last time we saw each other? It was a week past, at the church social. You wore your pink gingham dress. You know, the one I like so much, the one with the purple and yellow flowers on it. And you had on the sunbonnet I bought you for your birthday. You sure were a…

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Zoe Meets the Irish Gang…

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Dear friends and fans of mine, I’ve had a wonderful adventure and I can’t wait to tell you about it! My story cannot begin, though, until I tell you one historical fact: My name is Zoe the Fabulous Feline, I live with Emily, and I write about our adventures . . . well, my adventures. Emily never has any. With that out of the way, on to my latest adventure!

It had its start on a beautiful day during New England’s recent run of un-winter-like winter weather. The tops of the trees in our backyard were swaying slightly, hinting of a gentle breeze blowing over the land. (Do not be surprised, dear reader. Cats can wax poetic when the mood strikes.) The sun was shining brightly, and I was—as usual—inside, basking in the sun’s warmth through the glass of our deck doors, when I decided that I’d had it. It…

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This entry was posted on April 12, 2017. 7 Comments

Tommy “The Rat” Callahan (A Love Story)

A rat??? Let me at ‘im! :::Cheshire grin:::: Good story, Mr. Joyce!

Andrew Joyce

Tommy “The Rat” Callahan was a small-time Irish hood from South Boston. He was known as “The Rat” because of his rather long, pinched nose and his beady eyes that were set too close together. In short, Tommy looked like a rat. And the fact that he was not above ratting out a comrade to advance his own position added to the mystique of “The Rat.” He had no family except his sister, who he idolized.

Tommy was on to the caper of all capers, if only he did not fuck it up as he usually did. Tommy had learned, quite by accident of course, where there was one hundred large—one hundred thousand dollars to the rest of us—kept in a safe. He had cased the joint, and it looked like a breeze. All he needed was a cracksman to handle the safe. Once again, to us law-abiding citizens, a…

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