I Published My First Amazon Short Read

 

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Well, I finally did it. I published my first book of fiction on Amazon. It's not the first book I've published here, just the first book of fiction. It's a strange feeling knowing I've finally done something I've dreamed of doing for years.

The book is called Investigating the Beyond--Celeste Bordeaux. It's the first book in a series, and it's a short read, only about 5,000 words. It's listed in the 30-minute read section. In the first 24-hours, my book made it to the top 100 in the 30-minute read/teen and young adult category. I was over the moon.

Of course, that didn't last long. But I'm okay with that. It just means I've got to finish Book 2. I'm about halfway through at the moment and am hoping to have it finished this weekend. Once the first draft is finished, I'll let it sit and simmer for a couple of days. Then I'll go back and re-read it. I'll fix a few things, make sure it's as close to perfect as possible, then send it off to my editor. Yes, I have an editor and she is amazing.

I also have a designer to do my book covers. I love her work. Some of her book covers just drop my jaw to the floor. If it wasn't for these two women, I'd probably never have had the nerve to hit the publish button. 

I've wanted to be a published writer for as long as I can remember. I've had a couple of stories published in print, a few poems, and have been publishing online since the early 2000s. But this is different. Yes, it's still online but I can honestly say I did it. I've written a story, had it polished and packaged by professionals, and put it up for sale. That's amazing.

Here's the kicker, I actually made a little money. No, not a lot...less than a dollar...but I made a little money. For me, that's a win. It was never about the money. If it was about the money, I'd have given up a long time ago. It's not for the chance to be famous. I'm okay living in the shadows. It's simply one of those dreams that never seemed to go away. 

I'm in my late 50s and I've finally seen my dream come true. And I'm not done yet. I have a few more writing dreams to work on and now I have the drive to do so. I'm not the best writer in the world. Not by a long shot. But I love what I do. If someone out there loves it too, awesome. If not, oh well, on to the next.

Remember, you're never to old to dream. Embrace your dreams. It's what makes you, you. 

Until next time,
Miss Chris

Beatrice (Bertie) Margaret Calhoun/Montgomery/Clayton/Rosenthal, May She Rest in Peace

**WARNING: The following is a work of dark fiction. It may contain various triggers. Discretion is advised**

Image by Carolyn Booth from Pixabay 

Beatrice (Bertie) Margaret Calhoun/Montgomery/Clayton/Rosenthal, of Slaughterville, Oklahoma, passed away in her home with her 24-hour care nurse by her side. Her caregiver said she went out kicking and screaming and throwing things at the pictures on her walls. Her funeral will be held at the Slaughterville Memorial Chapel on Route 6 next Saturday at 2 p.m.

Bad luck seemed to follow Bertie throughout her life. Born October 20th, 1921 at 12:34 AM, Beatrice Margaret Calhoun was the eldest child of Charles and Lillian Calhoun, of Beaver Falls, Louisiana. Her parents had two more children after her, though neither one made it to the age of three.

In the summer of 1929, Bertie and her parents moved to Slaughterville where her father opened The Grand Slaughterville Hotel. Less than a year later, Charles Calhoun fell ill and passed away in his sleep. The hotel was purchased by the prominent Montgomery family. Bertie and her mother stayed on as housekeepers as a means to remain on the property. Within 6 months time, Lillian Calhoun was found at the bottom of a staircase and died shortly afterward. Her death was ruled an accident by the Slaughterville Coroner's Office. 

David and Dorthea Montgomery took little Bertie in and raised her as one of their own. In the spring of 1938, Bertie Calhoun married the Montgomerys' eldest son, Franklin.  Less than a month after the wedding, Franklin joined the military and was sent off to war. He came home 3 years later to find that his younger brother, Nelson, had died in a car accident and his only sister, Agnes, had fallen from the balcony of the hotel, dying instantly.

Less than a week after returning from the war, Franklin’s father, David Montgomery, was found dead in his office, of an apparent heart attack. Three days later, Dorthea Montgomery was found in her dressing room with a broken mirror shard protruding from her neck. It was determined that her cause of death stemmed from excessive alcohol. Heartbroken at the loss of his entire family, Franklin Montgomery apparently took his own life shortly thereafter.

Bertie took over the hotel and ran it as best she could. She hired Baxter Clayton as a groundskeeper and the two were wed in July 1944. Baxter kept the hotel and grounds in pristine condition until his untimely death in October 1947. While trimming branches from an old tree in the back of the hotel, Baxter had caught the cuff of his trousers in his ladder and fell to his death. The small handaxe he’d been using was found underneath him, buried in the back of his head. The coroner’s office called it a horrible accident.

Toward the end of the 1940s and the beginning of the 1950s, Bertie Clayon ran the hotel on her own. In 1954, she turned the west wing into a lounge and started hiring musicians to come in and play. By the early 1960s, The Grand Slaughterville Hotel was the place to stop for those who hadn’t quite made it to the big leagues. 

In 1966, Bertie met an older musician by the name of Herbie Rosenthal. He was working on becoming the next big music promoter but told locals that there was just something about Bertie that made him want to “dig this scene” and turn Slaughterville into a beatnik hotspot. 

Bertie and Herbie seemed happy in their little hippy culture home. However, in the summer of 1970, Herbie Rosenthal was found in the beer cooler with a full keg of beer lying beside his crushed skull. Investigators deduced that the keg had slipped off a shelf while Herbie was tying his shoe. His death was ruled a terrible mishap.

Between 1970 and 1992, Bertie Rosenthal remained alone in her hotel. Most Slaughterville residents had either thought her to be traveling the world or had forgotten about her altogether. In November 1992, Bertie attended the funeral of Jacob Johansson, the groundskeeper of the hotel at that time. She was welcomed back into Slaughterville society and began holding lavish parties at her hotel once again. 

Between 1993 and 2008, Bertie’s hotel flourished. In June of that year, the FBI came looking for several young men who had last been known to have stayed at her hotel. Though nothing ever came of the accusations, The Grand Slaughterville Hotel closed its doors for good.

Bertie became a recluse, being seen only by the 24-hour care nurses she’d hired to care for her in her golden years. Between 2009 and her recent passing, a total of 87 nurses cared for the aging woman. It is said that many of them packed up in the middle of the night and left town as they’ve never been seen nor heard from again.

Bertie Calhoun-Montgomery-Clayton-Rosenthal passed away on October 20th, 2021 at the age of 100. Her caregiver pronounced her time of death at 12:34 AM.

Bertie is preceded in death by her parents, both of her siblings, her adoptive parents, her adoptive siblings, and all three of her husbands. 

There were no survivors.