by Tegon Maus
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
Publication Date: September 3, 2014
After 27 years as a newspaper man, Peter Anderson’s career is slipping away, at least it was, until he stumbled upon the story of a lifetime. Sent to do a fluff piece about lights in the night sky over Arizona, he discovers far more than he ever expected when he comes upon a mysterious young woman held prisoner in a basement. After helping her to escape, she disappears before he can learn the truth about who she is or where she came from. His search for her leads him back to the lights in the sky and leaves him with more questions than answers. The only thing he knows for certain . . . the only thing he can count on are the two words offered repeatedly by his friend and guide . . . “IS BELT.”
“Business before pleasure… makes good fences.”
“The saying is, ‘good fences make good neighbors’ not…”
“Bob’s friend knows what Bob say. Not want money to be sticky bug between us.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. How much this time?” I asked aggravated, removing my wallet.
“Bob not know about such things. Must speak with cousin,” he said, wrapping a huge arm around the tiny man, pulling him to the other side of the room.
“Bob, you gave me your word,” Fred whispered forcefully, sending a pointed finger into Bob’s chest.
“Fred say, must think about it. Fred likes Bob’s friend Peter, wants give good price,” he said, smiling in my direction and then began to speak rapidly in Russian.
“Damn it, Bob. You promised me,” Fred whispered disappointedly.
“Fred say, four hundred dollars,” Bob said, holding up four fingers of his right hand, all the while maintaining his grip on Fred’s shoulder.
“Three hundred,” I countered, folding my arms, returning my wallet to my hip pocket.
“Oooh, Bob’s friend breaks Bob’s feelings. Bob’s friend would steal bread from Fred very mouth?”
“It’s not in Fred’s mouth just yet… three hundred,” I insisted.
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About the Author
I was raised pretty much the same as everyone else… devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure. Not that I wasn’t friendly, I just wasn’t “people orientated”. Maybe I lived in my head way more than I should have, maybe not. I liked machines more than people, at least I did until I met my wife.
The first thing I can remember writing was for her. For the life of me I can’t remember what it was about… something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years after inventing games and prototypes for a variety of ideas before I got back to writing.
It wasn’t a deliberate conscious thought, it was more of a stepping stone. My wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. “Be as detailed as you can,” we were told.
I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it’s making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an outright lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn’t be sure if it were true or not. When I write, I always write with the effort of “it could happen” very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.