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Crazy Tails

CRAZY TAILS

 

By

Margaret Gregory

 

 

 

Copyright © 2013 by Margaret Gregory

All Rights Reserved

Shakespir Edition

 

 

****

 

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

 

****

 

 

Please note that I use Australian spelling throughout. You will see ou’s (colour) and ‘re’ (centre) as well as a few other differences from American spelling.

 

As I see it – the Possum view

By Margaret Gregory

 

The scent of sun-warmed earth, carried on a cooling breeze, was in my nostrils when I woke. The light that blinded my eyes during the day, was fading. Time to wake up. Time to find food.

 

Inside my snug, tree-hole, I began to stretch – my claws grabbing wood. I pulled myself up so that my nose was at the level of the hole. My nostrils twitched, trying to sense the fainter smells of human, of dog, of cat, of danger.

 

Human? Dog? Yes, sounds of human voices – some shrill, some deeper. Yaps from some dog, small by its tone. The ones that liked chasing things. Not me though, not this time.

 

I wasn’t truly hungry yet. I would wait, watch.

Full dark was my element. When the humans had returned into their odd shaped caves, with odd toned light coming from holes in the sides. Usually, but not always, the dogs went away at dusk too.

 

When the silence had come and stayed, I moved cautiously out of my hole, dug my claws into the tree bark and climbed up onto a branch. Once again, I sniffed the air.

Faint smoke. Not here, not a danger.

The breeze stirred the tree leaves, I froze in place. No cat smell. Just the wind. I grabbed a few leaves to eat, while I waited.

 

Now hunger rumbled in my belly. It was a fine night. Quiet. The humans and the dog had gone and I wanted more than leaves to eat. I scrambled down the tree, stopped and sniffed.

 

Dog piss! Some dog had marked my tree. I covered the place with my own mark, so I could find my way back before the sun blinded me.

 

Now, hunger made me move, along a trail I remembered well. The first part held dangers, and was on the ground. I had to cross a hard flat trail, where huge growling creatures raced with blinding lights. The surface felt odd under my paws, but was rough enough that I could run without slipping.

Sometimes though, those creatures ran on the dirt below the trees, and on the dried and cracked dirt. Creatures like that didn’t chase me, but thundered on, stopping for nothing.

Possums were nothing to them. That is why I preferred trees.

 

No glaring lights this night. I scampered at full speed to the grass and garden around the cave opposite, going past a tree I had used as shelter once or twice.

 

A whiff of cat smell but no sound of movement. Cats were quiet. I became a statue, hunkered down close to the ground.

The sound of soft human feet and the padding of a large dog, were near me before I smelt them. Dog’s nose prodded me, wanting a reaction.

“I’m dead. No fun,” I kept thinking, until it went away.

My heartbeat slowed, I rose slowly, inching to the fence made of old, dead wood. Climbing quickly, I left the ground, heading for the high trail.

“Hiss! Yowl!”

The cat! With a hissing growl of my own, I scrabbled up the post of the human’s cave and on to the unnaturally slick stuff that covered it.

The cat didn’t follow. I hissed in derision and climbed higher, then ran along the roof as quickly as I could.

I made a lot of noise, but up here, nothing had ever reached me in all the nights I had come this way. By the end of that echoing trail, I made a flying leap to the next roof. Just like jumping from branch to branch, except my claws slipped on the surface. Across that roof, up onto another echoing path and a run to the tree at the end. Here I climbed to a branch that overhung the fence, then stopped.

 

Food lay below. My choice of fruit scraps, bread, oddments of human food. The smell of each nearly drove me crazy, but not stupidly so. The hens that lived below would be roosting now, but the cat would be prowling. Not the one from the fence, but another. When she wasn’t around, I ate her food.

 

Possums are better than cats, I thought. This one had mating on her mind. I could hear her now, yowling at the cowardly fence walker.

 

With the humans distracted into yelling at them, I dived for the fruit remains and began to eat.

 

The End

 

 

The Killer and the Kitty

By Margaret Gregory

 

Tippy inched along the slender branch as the wind made it sway. The house with its bright light spilling out through the glass, looked so inviting.

 

If only she hadn’t let that huge hunk of attitude scare her. But the sharp bark of challenge had been so loud in her good ear and the foul meaty breath so strong, that she feared he’d swallow her.

She’d been deliriously happy until then, ever since the humans – who usually glanced at her and kept walking – had chosen her. She was no longer a cute kitten, had a lopsided useless ear, and the air around her sleeping cage smelt of death. She almost wished she was back there, where she’d been warm, fed and safe from dogs.

 

Once her heart had ceased pounding, she’d heard a voice calling, “Kitty? Kitty?”

The little human girl, with her lopsided gait, had been calling to her off and on during the hours she’d been cowering up the tree. She dared not come down for Rambo was sprawled below, still growling threats.

As soon as the little girl had bought Tippy to the house, Rambo had raced up and said, “My place!” She had, without thinking, twisted free from the girl’s arms, and raced away and climbed until even at full stretch, Rambo couldn’t reach her.

 

Now though it was dark and cold, and she was hungry. The girl had put a bowl of milk and another of fish – near the door into that inviting house. Rambo hadn’t touched it yet, but he was there, pacing the area lit by the light. He knew she was up on the branch, for he looked up every time he stalked from his wooden hole and back again.

Deliberately, and perhaps foolishly, Tippy hissed a defiant challenge. “Why don’t you come and get me?”

 

The frustrated growl from Rambo made her study the scene below. There was nothing wrong with her eyes, or her night vision. Then she mewed with mirth – the big, bold Rambo was tethered to his wooden hole.

Now that she knew that she could ignore the arrogant hulk, Tippy eyed the distance between the branch and the roof of the house; she felt the branch sway and bring her closer. Choosing the instant, she leapt and landed lightly on the roof, then turned to look down.

 

Rambo barked in frustration and a gruff human voice told him to, “Shut up!” The little girl came out again, calling, “Kitty? Where are you?”

Tippy mewed loudly, and the girl looked up. “Come here, Kitty!”

Seeing a way – going to a section of lower roof, a table, a chair – Tippy prepared to leap, but her eyes caught movement below her and her back arched as an instinctive hiss escaped her.

 

Rambo, realising that he was not the focus of her attention, looked around. At first he didn’t see the small slithering creature, a mere dog’s length from him, and when he did, he dived for his hole. The little girl didn’t move, the snake was between her and the house, and she couldn’t walk fast.

Tippy hissed a warning, and the girl saw the snake.

“Pa! There’s a snake on the patio!”

 

The girl began edging backwards, but the snake changed direction, came at her.

Tippy sprang. Instinct and excellent night vision enabled her to judge her leap. Even as her paws touched the hard ground, her mouth bit the neck of the snake. It writhed and hissed as she shook it. She snapped it on the stone and then released the foul tasting creature. Now it was only moving feebly.

Gentle hands lifted Tippy into a warm embrace, and the girl’s voice whispered into her good ear. “Oh, you brave, brave, Kitty.”

 

A hand stroked her fur, and she wanted to purr, but a growl escaped her belly. The girl laughed and put her down near the bowls of milk and fish. Tippy immediately began to eat as Rambo slunk out of his hole and watched the man lift the snake with a shovel and carry it into the darkness. He inched closer to Tippy, his belly close to the ground, growling softly.

Without turning to look at him, Tippy mewed, “Some big bold killer you are!”

“You’re some kitty,” Rambo told her.

“My name is Tippy.”

“Friends? We’d make a good team.”

Tippy lapped the last of her milk. The little girl lifted her, and began to carry her into the warm house.

“Yeah, maybe. Brains and bulk!”

 

 

The End

 

Temptation

By Margaret Gregory

 

I lifted my nose to sniff the odd plant that was growing out of the wide dead tree. It smelt wonderful. I nibbled the edge of a leaf and couldn’t stop. It tasted marvellous – was there more?

I could still smell the plant, but where was the smell coming from?

I turned my head and twitched my nose, sniffing the dead tree, the ground, and rising up to my haunches, smelt the air. Where was that smell coming from?

 

“GROWL! What are you doing furry meat?” Rocket the pocket sized terrier barked loudly.

I leapt into the air, spun around and raced for the hutch the human, Mike, had made for me. I could feel Rocket’s foul meaty breath on my tail.

In the dark, where Rocket couldn’t follow, I shivered. His nose poked into the hole and sniffed.

“You’ll have to come out sometime, furry meat, and one day I will be hungry.”

I kept still and quiet until I heard Mike calling Rocket for a walk.

Walk meant Rocket wasn’t around. When I no longer heard his whining pleas to be let of his leash, I ventured out again.

My ears twitched to catch any sound of Rocket returning as I went back to where I had tasted the marvellous plant. I tried to run behind the wide tree, but there was no end to it.

 

“What’s got your nose twitching?”

I looked up the tree and saw Felice sitting on it, looking down at me. She and I shared a dislike of Rocket, and that made us friends of a sort – even if she did like catching and eating mice meat.

“I tasted a plant here, and I want to find more but I can’t get around the dead tree.”

Felice mewed a laugh. “This is a fence, not a tree!” She glanced the other way. “And I don’t see anything that smells nice to eat, only the geranium stuff. Why don’t you jump up here and look for yourself?”

My attempts made Felice laugh again. “What can you see,” I asked.

“Just another fenced in yard. No dogs though, and the humans there like to feed birds. I like to watch.”

“How wide is the tree?” I asked Felice.

“Wide enough for me to sit on and walk on,” she told me.

She was no help. I went back to sniffing along the tree – no – the fence.

I found a crack. Sniff, sniff. “Oh, heaven!” I tried to fit my head through the crack, but it was too small. What to do?

I heard Rocket’s “Please Mike” bark. I had little time. I started to dig.

Rocket ran at me and tumbled me with his nose. Mike picked me up and held me away from Rocket.

“I have a carrot for you, Roger Rabbit.”

Carrot? Why bother to dig when I get treats like carrots here. I’ll sleep well tonight, safe in my hutch.

 

Mike lifted me out of the hutch to let me run free again.

I kept away from Rocket. The lazy beast was still sleeping with his nose poking out of his kennel by the human’s hole. He never stirred until the sun was well up. Pity him – the grass is freshest before he sun is up. I’d had enough grass, so I tasted all the taller plants, vaguely recalling the taste of heaven.

“I’m getting hungry, furry meat,” Rocket barked.

Without thinking, I ran to where I had found a gap in the tree fence, and stuck my head through. My whiskers just touched the edges. I felt Rocket trying to snatch hairs from my tail and stretched and scrabbled urgently.

A whole new place met my eyes. I didn’t know what was here. I saw a dark shadow under a bush and ran for it. Ears and nose twitching furiously, I tried to sense anything dangerous in a world of unfamiliar smells and sounds. I knew I should go back to Mike’s place, but …

After a while, Felice strolled into view, her tail high. She stopped outside the bush, sat on her haunches and began to lick one paw. And as she licked, she laughed.

“Rocket is trying to be like you, Roger,” she snickered in cat tones. “He’ll get his nose stuck if he pushes it any harder.”

I inched out and saw she was right, and then twisted and scurried deeper into the shadow.

“Oh, ease up, Roger. The humans here won’t hurt you. They give me pieces of cheese and let me chase the mice from the bird seed, even if they do put the bird seed where I can’t get to the birds.”

With such assurance, I dared explore. This place had a whole new world of tastes and smells. I even found traces of rabbit folk smell in a hole under a human dwelling. And there was no terror smell. Why couldn’t I stay here?

I heard Mike calling, but my stomach is so full, I can hardly stay awake. I will just go and explore where rabbit folk used to live.

 

Mike took me home. Somehow, he had found me.

Rocket jumped up at me, bumping Mike, and promising me trouble for making Mike worry. From the safe snugness of Mike’s arms, I told him he would be in trouble for scaring me. I let him laugh.

I met the human in the new place, the next time I ran from Rocket. This one smelt sort of like flowers, but not quite. She gave me something juicy to eat before leaving me to explore.

Later, I smelt Mike, heard him calling, and saw him with the flower human. Together, they showed me several shelters in this new garden. Did that mean I could stay there? It did. Mike visited often, and never with Rocket.

Life was good. If I was smart, I wouldn’t try to leave this place.

“Thump. Thump-thump!”

My ears twitched. The sound was repeated. Information moved in my brain. Signals my dam had taught me as soon as I had opened my eyes for the first time. These did not seem like the danger signals, but they seemed urgent, as if calling me to do something.

I followed the sound to another wide tree-fence. I knew now that these fences were not very thick. I sniffed along it, found a gap and sniffed again. Ugh! Bad smell! I backed away.

“Thump. Thump-thump!”

Warily, I approached the hole again. I felt a breeze and new smells. One smell made my senses suddenly more acute. Rabbit smell – somewhere nearby was another of my kind. I wanted to go to it, but those other smells… what if the next yard had a bigger dog that Rocket? A dog with a big enough mouth to swallow me? I should stay where I was – where I was safe.

The thumps came again, were they more urgent? Were they warning me to stay away? To Run? The rabbit smell reminded me of my dam, and the thumps were imperative, like her commands. I began to dig a little, enlarging the hole in the fence. The rabbit smell was getting stronger – I had to go to her.

I raced across the foul smelling yard, and found a big hole in the fence. I didn’t stop when I got through. The rabbit smell was making me giddy; I had to find the source.

The smell seemed to be coming from a high sided hole. I had to reach up with my front paws to see the top of the hole. And then I saw she was trapped in a small yard with no growing plants. And she was the most beautiful rabbit I had seen since I had left my dam.

She stood still, sniffing the air. She hopped in my direction and stood up to meet me. I touched my nose to hers and blew my scent into them. She blew hers into mine and I was lost in that scent. I reached up further, and managed to fall into her hole. It didn’t seem to matter that I could not get out again.

I came back to awareness when Mike picked me up. “What are you doing here, Roger Rabbit?”

He stroked my fur and destroyed the giddy scent of Furflower.

“You can’t bite through metal and canvas, you silly rabbit, and she is being well looked after in that little wading pool run. I’m taking you home.”

I struggled, trying to get free from him. I had just found the love of my life; I could not leave her now.

“I’ll come back, Furflower,” I promised her. “Call me – I’ll come!”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Mike told me, holding me more firmly. “I have some oats, carrot and apple for you at home.”

“Oats? Carrots? Apples? I’m coming.”

I wriggled for a last look at Furflower. Her human was giving her radishes, and she wasn’t thinking of me.

 

All that night in my hutch, I dreamt of Furflower. When Mike lifted me out, I still thought of her but my belly was empty. The sky was just lightening – it was time to eat.

I heard Rocket yawn and begin to wake up.

“Where’ve you been, furry meat?” he growled at me as I ate grass.

This wasn’t an attacking growl, like when he wanted to play. He sniffed me and made an odd sound.

“What’s wrong, dogface,” I dared to twitch my nose at him. “Aren’t you old enough for a mate yet?”

He growled softly. “What did you do to get a mate?”

“I tasted a leaf,” I told him, flicking my ears. And I laughed when he went to eat some grass.

 

The End

The Ninja Mouse – an urban fairy tale

By Margaret Gregory

 

Rosie was nearly hysterical as she streaked across the wide-open, foul smelling stretch of dead ground. Once she was back on honest dirt, and hidden by fragrant leaves, she stopped and let her breathing ease and her heart rate slow to normal. Her tiny nose twitched continuously, and her head darted from side to side. Even under the bush, she wasn’t safe.

The ancient enemy, CAT, sometimes prowled at night. She thought that there could not be a worse enemy than CAT, but she was wrong.

 

MAN had to be as bad. MAN, the giant creature that all the mice scouts laughed at for being, blind and slow. She had believed it herself when she first scouted the strange place where MAN lived.

Oh, she hadn’t tried to challenge MAN. Instead, she had kept out of sight as much as possible, scurrying around next to the walls – as she had been trained to do.

In that first exciting foray, she had eaten well – on crumbs scattered all over the floor. It mattered little that she had needed to forage amongst the dead dry fibres that covered that floor. The second time she had ventured further in, past the dry dusty fibre stuff, and onto a slick hard surface. Here she had found a bonanza – a fibrous material smelling of delicious grains. It had been easy to bite through the fabric to let the grains spill out.

With her were Tom and Sam, experienced scouts. They were both more daring and more foolish. Sam had climbed a pile of papers and fallen into a slick walled well. His scrabbling to find a paw hold to get out had been heard by MAN. At least he had the sense to go still and quiet when he heard and felt man approach. MAN had not found him, and he had later managed to sprint up a pile of slick plastic bottles and get out. He had scared himself though. He had fled back through the tunnel in the disused heater, preferring to go hungry.

 

Tom, the father of Rosie’s current belly full of babies, had tried to impress her. He had found two grey platters of a redolent nutty paste, and invited her to share.

Since the babies had begun growing, Rosie’s nose had become extra-sensitive. She smelt the lingering taint of death on the platters, and skittered around them.

Telling her she was foolish to eschew the offered bounty, Tom sniffed at the platter again – cautiously, just in case…the nutty smell was driving him crazy.

He flicked his tail, torn between feasting and joining Rosie at her bounty of grain. A sudden SNAP, and the excruciating pain in his tail made him leap forward, head first into the dish of nutty paste.

His last sensation was the divine savour of the paste.

 

Rosie heard the second sharp noise and cowered as MAN walked past to investigate. She quivered as the voice of man vibrated the air, and his feet made the floor tremble. She peeked from her dark corner, into the too bright room and saw MAN pick up one of the platters that had snapped shut around Tom. Only half of him was visible, and the second platter had latched onto Tom’s tail.

Suddenly, she was no longer hungry. MAN was freeing Tom, throwing his lifeless body into a huge white bag, and taking him away.

She wanted to run, get away, but she was afraid to go near those once again innocent looking platters. They were right near the entrance of the tunnel, and now she knew that MAN had put them there. What if they pounced on her, like CAT could?

For a long time, she watched them. Neither platter moved, not even the width of a whisker. While MAN was around, she dared not move, but she screwed up her courage to make the dash to the tunnel, and planned a route around the deadly creatures.

 

Rosie was relieved to get back to the burrow, where Sam had preceded her. She reported what she had seen, that the place was too dangerous for MOUSE kind. No one listened to her, they had heard Sam tell of the bonanza of easy food there in that MAN place. Older mouse scouts shrugged, saying that a mouse’s life was always full of danger, and MOUSE had to eat.

 

As always, the hunger came again. Sooner and more intense, as if the babies were already demanding food, Rosie thought. Memories of Tom and his fate were already fading. Dez, a kindly older mouse was complimenting her on her bravery, and skill, and preening under his compliments, she agreed to lead him into the marvellous eating-place. He said she was lucky, that mother-to-be mice were protected by the Ninja Mouse.

How could she refuse?

 

That night she returned across the hard open ground, climbed up a stretch of brick, squeezed through a narrow gap in a metal grill, though finding it a tighter squeeze this time. Forgetting that trouble immediately, she led Dez through the dark to the tunnel that led up to MAN’s place.

The smell struck her twitching nose as soon as she emerged – death and nut. She warned Dez to stay clear of the pouncing platters, and he did – choosing to follow Rosie to the bounty of hard crunchy grain. He ate for a while in the dark, hidden corner, and then decided to explore further.

Rosie ate her fill and returned to the tunnel to wait for Dez.

She waited and waited, but finally as hunger overcame her again, she had to go back up. She would eat, then find Dez, and bring him out.

This time, Rosie found it even harder to squeeze out of the tunnel, but her hunger was fierce and she could smell all sorts of redolent things. The route to the food was instinctive now and she ate her fill once more. She had seen no sign of Dez, and hearing and feeling the presence of MAN, she headed back to the tunnel. She had to pause as MAN walked by, and her nose twitched, smelling a strong nutty odour – it was divine. She wondered if her belly had room for her to eat more.

Creeping along once MAN had gone, she drew near the dish of nutty paste. Only when she was close did she smell the faint stench of death – the lingering smell of Dez.

 

Instinct roused, she backed away, ran around the dreadful platter – it was another of the hateful creatures. Memories of Dez, and Tom, and others before them, drove her back to the tunnel. There had been other mice before them that had liked her and not returned. She was a death bringer, and didn’t deserve the bounty of food she had found.

She ran blindly, not caring if MAN saw her. She missed her target, realising she was too far to one side. She twisted abruptly, scurried…SNAP!

Rosie thought her head had split when the platter pounced. She stopped moving and licked at the nutty paste. It was delicious. If this was death, why had she feared it?

 

She felt her body lifted as the platter rose from the ground. The pressure on her head went away and she fell into a big white bag. In the instant that she realised she was alive, she scrambled from the bag and dived for the tunnel. MAN reached for her and tried to grab her. She put on a burst of speed, but she felt slow, sluggish. She reached the tunnel entrance, put her head in and her paws, but her body was too fat to follow. Something caught her tail and pulled her backwards. MAN had her, dangling her by her tail. She swayed as he walked with her, she flailed her legs, trying to get free. Light blinded her sensitive eyes, noise deafened her, but she began to smell fresh night air – not the fetid stale smell of MAN’s burrow.

Her tail was released and she found herself travelling through air, and then she landed, heavily, on wet muddy ground. The air was forced from her lungs, she gasped, wanting to move but unable to. She would be easy prey for CAT. She wondered why MAN had not killed her, when he set pouncing creatures to wait for mice in his burrow.

 

Finally, her breath came easier. A whiff of familiar scents gave her the direction back to her burrow, her kin.

To them, she was a hero. She had fought MAN and won. The adulation drove away her residual terror. Then her kinfolk fell silent, and a MOUSE – dark like the night – stalked into the room. There, bowing to her, was a real Ninja MOUSE.

“Queen Mother to be,” the ninja called her. “Though art blessed by the first mouse.”

Rosie felt too startled to reply.

“Your skill will become legend, your children revered.”

Rosie felt a shiver of pleasure, but honesty compelled her to admit, “I still have much to learn. Mice who travel with me, they die.”

“Death comes to us all, Queen Mother. You have defied it, many times. But I will protect you now.”

“Can you trick the pouncing creatures that MAN has in his house? Are you faster than their pounce?”

“For you, my Queen – I will do anything. I will see that the death makers don’t pounce on you. You will be able to eat safely until your children are born, and afterwards. I am yours to command.”

 

It seemed like bravado, but when the hunger came again, he was true to his promise.

Rosie led him to the tunnel, warned him how to sense the pouncing creatures, which held tempting treats to trick them. Ninja Mouse moved past her, saying, “I will show you how to trick them…”

He gave her a mouse grin as he crept up behind the nearest pouncing creature. The light was dim, and MAN was not around.

Rosie stared in astonishment, as Ninja Mouse pounced on the back of the nearest creature. SNAP!

He sprang from it to the back of the other. SNAP!

Ninja mouse bowed to his queen and together, they dined like royalty.

 

The End

 Discover other titles by Margaret Gregory

at www.Shakespir.com

 

SHORT STORIES:

GRAFFITI GIRL

 

Valerie has become known as “The Graffiti Girl” but she is more than just a street artist.

She sees and paints life her way.

 

In Valkyrie, the second story, Valerie, blinded by an explosion,

must learn to paint and see again.

 

GHOST WRITER

 

Edwina is a ghost with a mission – to find out why she died.

Only to do so, she must first help another girl.

 

RATTLING CHAINS

 

I slammed the phone to my ear, “Colin! Where are you?” I was yelling.

“I haven’t time for that. I need your help.”

“What? Where?”

“Grab the chain, Hetty! Grab it, and don’t let go.”

“What chain? Colin? What chain?”

He was gone.

 

NOVELS

The Tymorean Trust Book 1 – POWER RISING

 

The Tymorean Trust – When peace rules Tymorea – Peace reigns in the universe.

Chosen to be the Advocates of the mystical and incorporeal Guardians of Peace, twins Tymos and Kryslie must first learn to control and use the power rising in them – or it will destroy them.

On Tymorea, only the ruling Triumvirate Governors are powerful enough to guide the strong-willed alien-bred twins until they have mastered their power.

 

 

The Tymorean Trust Book 2 – GREAT ONES

 

The peace of the Guardian Planet, Tymorea, is in deadly peril. War there will create ripples of unrest and destruction throughout the settled universe.

 

Tymos and Kryslie, still adolescents, have barely mastered their power and Llaimos is still less than a year old, but they are the three chosen to be Advocates of the mystical Guardians of Peace, to safeguard the Tymorean Trust

 

 

The Tymorean Trust Book 3 – THE RETURN TO EARTH

 

Even before the war on Tymorea, the Elders foresaw that Great Ones Tymos and Kryslie would have an imperative mission on Earth.

But as the Tymoreans prepare to build an Earthbase to support them, they discover that specifications for two vital protective shields are missing.

Now, nearly a century later, Tymos and Kryslie must find his work and build the generator before the base is found.

 

 

The Tymorean Trust Book 4 – EARTH MISSION

 

Just before their graduation from the prestigious WSRA Washington University,

Tymos and Kryslie Ward deliberately disappear.

The Great Ones have foreseen the capture and death of the new Tymorean missionaries

and discovered that the leader of the Eastern Imperium plans

to undermine the United World Nations.

Tymos and Kryslie must protect their kin and prevent a potentially devastating world war.

 

 

Coming Soon

The Tymorean Trust Book 5 – ALIEN CONTACT

 

 

 

THE WILD ONE

 

Sixteen year old Jai Cassidy thought she was finally free of her family until she is discovered by her other relatives…the ones that aren’t human. Jai uses her natural perversity and cunning to escape their control, but catapults herself into the middle of a deadly feud between two alien races.

 

 

ATAPI SORCERESS

Jai Cassidy is beginning her mission of reversing the decline of the non-humanoid Atapi. As a sorceress and an Atapi-Human hybrid, she is vehemently disliked by the male Atapi sorcerers and the humanoid rulers of Korvu. Her task is complicated by the treachery of a group of alien engineers, who are inciting insurrection and harsh reprisals.

 

 

WANDA: FROM BAD TO WORSE

 

If she was going to die young, like her mother, Gwen Willard was determined to die rich and she had very few years to do it. She met Hooch, who taught her some exciting and illegal skills, and she came to the attention of the police. Then her uncanny knack for predicting trouble, warned her to flee to the city and change her name. She was 15. Life wasn’t easy, but her new skills came in handy.

 

 

Back to Start

 

Connect to Margaret Gregory

 

My Shakespir author profile: https://www.Shakespir.com/profile/view/msgdragon

 

Connect with me on LinkedIn:

http://au.linkedin.com/pub/margaret-gregory/72/a36/186/

 

Friend me on Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/margaret.gregory.399

 

 

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Cover design by msgdragon

Cover Image Credits:

 

Mouse, © Can Stock Photo Inc. / CreativeNature

 

Jonas Lowgren, Stuck in a tree, Flickr, 2009, under attribution licence.

https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4037/4583671192_97fcf54396_b_d.jpg

 

Brisbane City Council, Brushtail possum in Brisbane, Wikimedia Commons, 2003, under attribution licence. [+ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Creating_habitat_for_wildlife_such_as_the_Brushtail_possum_(8065737659).jpg+]

 

Marit & Toomas Hinnosaar, Rabbit, Flickr, 2009, under attribution licence. https://c1.staticflickr.com/3/2487/3706445364_5fcb625894_b_d.jpg

 


Crazy Tails

Three of these stories are based on real creatures I have known, but their names have been changed to protect the not so innocent. The incidents are real, the events happened, but the telling is tempered by nostalgia and the POV – that’s where the fantasy comes in. Spend some moments as a mouse, a possum, a cat and a rabbit. Feel free to leave a review and your guess as to which of the main creature characters are entirely fiction.

  • Author: TAT Publishing
  • Published: 2016-08-24 14:35:10
  • Words: 5642
Crazy Tails Crazy Tails