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WordCrafter’s “Midnight Garden: Where Dark Tales Grow” Book Blog Tour Day 7

Kay Castaneda, October 13, 2024October 13, 2024

Hello everyone! We are on Day 7 of the WordCrafter Midnight Garden Book Blog Tour. The tour is scheduled with guest posts and readings from contributing authors at every stop. There’s a fun giveaway. If you missed any of the stops on the tour, you can go back to any day on the schedule. Let’s meet the authors and their stories.

About Midnight Garden: Where Dark Tales Grow

17 authors bring you 21 magnificent dark tales. Stories of magic, monsters and mayhem. Tales of murder and madness which will make your skin crawl. These are the tales that explore your darkest Midnight Garden… if you dare.

Picture caption: Cover of The Midnight Garden featuring an owl on a bench.
Picture caption: Cover of The Midnight Garden featuring an owl on a bench

Purchase Link: https://books2read.com/MidnightGardenAnthology

Giveaway

Three lucky winners will receive a digital copy of Midnight Garden in a random drawing following the tour. All you have to do to enter is follow the tour and leave a comment at each stop that you visit.

If you miss a stop, you can go back and visit through the links in the schedule below. (Links won’t work until the stop goes live).

Schedule

Monday – October 7 – M.J. Mallon: Interview & Reading (The Seagull Man) – Writing to be Read

Tuesday – October 8 – Danaeka Scrimshaw: Guest Post (“Fae Game”) & Denise Aparo: Reading “Jack Moon & the Vanishing Book” – Roberta Writes

Wednesday – October 9 – Joseph Carabis: Reading (“The Last Drop”) & Guest Post (“Striders”) – Paul Martz

Thursday – October 10 – Paul Martz: Reading & Guest Post (“The Blackest Ink”) – Writing to be Read

Friday – October 11 – Molly Ertel: Inspiration Reading (“Antipenultimate”) & Abe Margel: Guest Post (My Balance) – Kyrosmagica

Saturday – October 12 – Paul Kane: Guest Post (“Drip Feed”) & Joseph Carrabis: Guest Post (Grande Ture) – Undawnted

Sunday – October 13 – DL Mullan: Guest Post (Kurst) & Ell Rodman: Guest Post (The Drummer) – BookPlaces

Monday – October 14 – Joseph Carrabis: Reading (The Exchange) & Guest Post (The Tomb) – Writing to be Read

Reading from “Kurst”, by DL Mullan

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2M2AosM8lVc
 
“Kurst” Excerpt Dramatic Reading Narrated by DL Mullan

About DL Mullan

A writer at heart, Undawnted’s own creative spark, DL Mullan, began writing short stories and poetry before adolescence. Over the years, Ms. Mullan has showcased her literary talents by self-publishing several collections of her poetry. She also writes novels, designs apparel, and creates digital art. Ms. Mullan‘s creative writing is available in digital and print collections, from academia to commercial anthologies. As an independent publisher, she produces her own book cover designs as well as maintains her own websites. She is an award-winning digital artist and poet.

Currently, she has embarked on writing her multi-book Legacy Universe, Supernatural Superhero Series.

For news and updates, subscribe to the Undawntable Newsletter
https://foreverundawnted.substack.com.

Find DL on:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/stores/DL-Mullan/author/B0B48PC82H?ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61560333630892
LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/in/dlmullan/
YouTube https://www.youtube.com/c/DLMullan_Undawnted/featured

Picture caption: Cover of The Midnight Garden featuring an owl on a bench.

Inspiration for “The Drummer”, by Ell Rodman

The Drummer came from a mash of memories and nightmares.

I grew up in a secluded area. Not the middle of nowhere, but not close enough to walk to what few friends I had. My dad used to call me ‘the hermit’. My parents worked long hours, so even if I had kids to spend time with transportation would have been a challenge. One of my best childhood memories was a rare exception to that, when I was invited to a birthday party. We set up tents in the backyard, ate microwave hot dogs, and played flashlight tag for hours. In the daylight the woods that surrounded this house were exciting. They were something to explore. This was true at night, too, but they took on an extra quality. There was something eerie there. Technically, we had nothing to fear. Bears, wolves or other predators were driven out of the area by humans decades before I was born. Yet we still sat right on the edge of fear without the ability to identify why.

I hid in a rotting treehouse. I got tagged ‘it’ after noticing hundreds of termites crawling over my shoes and sprinting out screaming. It was more fun than any of my own birthdays. Despite that, I was still the odd one out. Everyone had their friends; I really only knew the kid whose party it was. Most of my time was spent on the edge of the social circle. The setting of The Drummer comes from that experience. You’re having fun with classmates, you’re included, you’re happy to be there, but you’re still oddly alone.

Also as a kid, my bedroom window faced the woods. There was a house nearby with orange porchlights that were barely visible through trees and brush. The type that fixed into the outer wall contained in glass. In that dim, faraway light, I often saw a man holding a lamp that peered into the woods. When the wind blew, it looked like he faced my window beckoning me outside. I remember staying home from school with a fever of something like 103. I slept all day eating nothing but Ritz Bitz peanut butter crackers, then couldn’t get a wink of sleep that night. Whenever I turned towards the window and looked at that house, my fever vision made the man look much larger, and the branches looked like they were coming out of him.

Years later, I remembered the birthday party and wondered what would happen if we did meet something in the woods. Something like my fever vision. That’s where The Drummer comes from.

About Ell Rodman

Ell Rodman Author Photo

Ell Rodman is a D.C. area writer of horror, Sci-fi, and poetry as seen in Andromeda Magazine. Ell is a graduate of Virginia Commonwealth University, a watcher of bad 80s movies, and a fosterer of dogs.

Thanks for visiting today on Day 7 of Midnight Garden Book Blog Tour. Don’t forget to like or leave a comment. The authors will appreciate it!

 

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Comments (6)

  1. Paul Martz says:
    October 13, 2024 at 8:23 am

    I’ve downloaded Midnight Garden but haven’t started reading yet. I know I’m going to love it.

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  2. Kay Castaneda says:
    October 13, 2024 at 1:13 pm

    Thanks for visiting, Paul and leaving a comment.

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  3. DL Mullan says:
    October 13, 2024 at 10:57 pm

    Thank you! I hope everyone loves my reading from Kurst!

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  4. Marje @ Kyrosmagica says:
    October 14, 2024 at 12:28 am

    Hi I haven’t read all the stories yet but did read The Drummer which I really enjoyed. Looking forward to reading D L Mullen’s too and will listen to her excerpt later today on my laptop. 😀

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  5. Kaye Lynne Booth says:
    October 15, 2024 at 5:24 pm

    Kay, my apologies for not getting this in sooner. It’s been quite a week and a fabulous blog tour. Just want to say thanks for hosting. You did a great job on this tour stop. Everything looks fantastic. :)

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  6. Miriam Hurdle says:
    October 21, 2024 at 8:34 am

    Hi Kay! Thank you for stopping by and checking on me. The post “Silver Falls” was not done but went live for one hour. I stopped it and rescheduled it for later. I have had some physical issues and need time to take care of them. I had an MRI done for my lower back which has chronic pain. The first pain management appointment is on 10/29. The sinus problem is another ongoing issue. The CT scan for my nose is tomorrow to see if I need surgery. Other than that, we’re busy taking care of the grandkids.

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The Beauty Lesson

Kay Castaneda,
September 17, 2025

I still fume when I remember a boy in my 5th-grade science class. That was a very long time ago. I was shy and silent at that age and everything bothered me. My mom had moved my sisters and I away from Indianapolis to Detroit after she and my dad got a divorce. It made me sad and angry to leave my dad and other relatives here.

A mean boy told me one day that my hair was dirty. At the time, I didn’t care about hair or clothes because I was too young and depressed. When he told me that, I went home and scrubbed my hair VERY hard and soaked in the tub in steaming hot water for an hour. I poured some of my mom’s perfume, Evening in Paris, in my wet hair and went to bed. The next morning, I brushed it 100 times because I’d read that in Good Housekeeping magazine. It was so shiny! He sat next to me. I wanted to sit somewhere else, but the teacher wouldn’t let the students change seats. The boy sneered at me and didn’t complement me, but he did tell me I should use curlers. My hair was stringy, according to his opinion. What did I do that night? Of course, I curled my hair! I borrowed Mom’s brush curlers and fastened them to my head. I slept in them and tossed and turned all night because the pain in my scalp was so bad. I took them out slowly because that was the advice from Redbook magazine. I combed gently and applied tons of hairspray. The next day, that boy didn’t compliment my curly hair.

He insulted me even more when he told me I had fat lips. I used to have full lips, a lot fuller than I have as an adult, especially now as an older women. If I showed you my school picture from that year, you would see what I mean. Anyway, the boy laughed at me, and even pointed at me to the other kids. That night I practiced ways to make my lips smaller; keeping them closed and not talking to anyone, covering them with several layers of Mom’s foundation and keeping my head turned away from him.

He insulted me in many ways. According to him, I didn’t have any breasts. I was a bit confused about that one because I was obviously a girl. I went home and asked Mom to buy me a bra but she didn’t have the money. I put one of hers on and stuffed it with socks and toilet paper to make them “big”. No compliments from him, of course. I endured suffering from him about my body until Mom decided to move back home at Christmas. I never had to sit by him again.

“A girl should be two things: who and what she wants.” Coco Chanel

I thought about him the other day, and I don’t know why. Maybe it was when I washed my hair and used the curling iron. Hurt lasts a long, long time. Those people who were abused when they were younger make me feel sympathy with them. I secretly rejoice when the bad guys get outed. But those celebrities and so-called important people escape to sex-addiction clinics with equine therapy, yoga, gourmet meals, and other luxuries at the $30,000 six week stay. Six weeks to ride horses and have aromatherapy massages? Baloney! Caca in Spanish.

Now many people are coming out of the woods to bring the evil to light, and it is evil when somebody assaults a person sexually, emotionally and physically. Words can hurt. I wish I would have said something to my Mom or a teacher about that boy.

And I wish I could have told someone about abuse at my jobs as an adult. That is another story…
... See MoreSee Less

The Beauty Lesson

Kay Castaneda, 
September 17, 2025

I still fume when I remember a boy in my 5th-grade science class. That was a very long time ago. I was shy and silent at that age and everything bothered me. My mom had moved my sisters and I away from Indianapolis to Detroit after she and my dad got a divorce. It made me sad and angry to leave my dad and other relatives here.

A mean boy told me one day that my hair was dirty. At the time, I didn’t care about hair or clothes because I was too young and depressed. When he told me that, I went home and scrubbed my hair VERY hard and soaked in the tub in steaming hot water for an hour. I poured some of my mom’s perfume, Evening in Paris, in my wet hair and went to bed. The next morning, I brushed it 100 times because I’d read that in Good Housekeeping magazine. It was so shiny! He sat next to me. I wanted to sit somewhere else, but the teacher wouldn’t let the students change seats. The boy sneered at me and didn’t complement me, but he did tell me I should use curlers. My hair was stringy, according to his opinion. What did I do that night? Of course, I curled my hair! I borrowed Mom’s brush curlers and fastened them to my head. I slept in them and tossed and turned all night because the pain in my scalp was so bad. I took them out slowly because that was the advice from Redbook magazine. I combed gently and applied tons of hairspray. The next day, that boy didn’t compliment my curly hair.

He insulted me even more when he told me I had fat lips. I used to have full lips, a lot fuller than I have as an adult, especially now as an older women. If I showed you my school picture from that year, you would see what I mean. Anyway, the boy laughed at me, and even pointed at me to the other kids. That night I practiced ways to make my lips smaller; keeping them closed and not talking to anyone, covering them with several layers of Mom’s foundation and keeping my head turned away from him.

He insulted me in many ways. According to him, I didn’t have any breasts. I was a bit confused about that one because I was obviously a girl. I went home and asked Mom to buy me a bra but she didn’t have the money. I put one of hers on and stuffed it with socks and toilet paper to make them “big”. No compliments from him, of course. I endured suffering from him about my body until Mom decided to move back home at Christmas. I never had to sit by him again.

“A girl should be two things: who and what she wants.”   Coco Chanel

I thought about him the other day, and I don’t know why. Maybe it was when I washed my hair and used the curling iron. Hurt lasts a long, long time. Those people who were abused when they were younger make me feel sympathy with them. I secretly rejoice when the bad guys get outed. But those celebrities and so-called important people escape to sex-addiction clinics with equine therapy, yoga, gourmet meals, and other luxuries at the $30,000 six week stay. Six weeks to ride horses and have aromatherapy massages? Baloney! Caca in Spanish.

Now many people are coming out of the woods to bring the evil to light, and it is evil when somebody assaults a person sexually, emotionally and physically. Words can hurt. I wish I would have said something to my Mom or a teacher about that boy.

And I wish I could have told someone about abuse at my jobs as an adult. That is another story…
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Kay Castaneda, Author
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My latest post is now published on my blog. Thanks!

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