Katy Mann – Writer
Writing and reviewing horror fiction, because I love scary stories!
Room of Tears by Linda Merlino

Room of Tears by Linda Merlino


  Author: Linda Merlino

Tour organized by:  Goddess Fish



Out of tragedies come heroes and miracles…


At 9:59 a.m. on September 11, 2001, Diane O’Connor’s life as a firefighter’s wife changes forever, shattering her faith. Four decades later, a note still hangs on her kitchen cabinet in Queens, the paper yellowed with age. Diane knows the scribbled sentences by heart; she’d left them the morning of 9/11 for her husband, Billy.


In the summer of 2041, Diane invites Friar Antonio Ortiz to her home. He is a man destined to become counsel to the first American pope—her son, Peter. Antonio asks no questions and arrives in secret, promising to wait nineteen years before passing Diane’s journal to Peter. Only then will Billy’s story be told, along with answers to Peter’s questions about his father’s last days.




Excerpt Chapter One –



Absorbed, Antonio neglected to notice that Diane had disappeared into the kitchen. He thought to ask her about the two men in the photographs, and when he turned in anticipation of seeing her next to him, he took a step toward where she might be standing. His right foot struck a pair of boots propped upright against the wall. He stumbled and put a hand out to that empty place where he thought she might be, but his face did not meet hers, and instead came within an inch of a firefighter’s helmet, the medallion of its FDNY ladder company polished and gleaming.


On the edge of that moment, trying to regain his balance, each breath he took tightened in his throat. Antonio began to gag. His mind raced. What could be happening? One minute he was looking at photographs and the next his throat was constricting. An acrid odor rose to his nostrils. He shook his head—the same faint smell he’d noticed from before, at the door, but stronger, sharp enough now to sear his soft membranes. My God, he thought and recoiled. Sweat sprang from his face and neck. A heart attack? He clutched his chest. No, not that. His heart was fine except for the galloping beat under his ribcage. Heat emanated from the helmet as if it had just come through an inferno. “My God,” he said aloud. Perhaps a fire burned inside the wall, hot enough to choke him.


Two commenters will receive a $25 Amazon or BN.com Gift Certificate each.

a Rafflecopter giveaway






LInda Merlino author photo

Linda Merlino author photo




Linda Merlino is the author of  Room of Tears (July 23 2013), Hudson Catalina (2008-Belly of the Whale & re-release 9/14/12), Swan Boat Souvenir (self-published 2003) she began writing fiction as a young mother on the sidelines of endless soccer practices.  Linda wrote anytime any place.  A manuscript filled a carton in the back seat of her car.  Many years have passed since those early beginnings, but her work continues to be inspired by her children.


The author has a fascination with heroes and writes her fiction to honor ordinary men and women who react unselfishly in extraordinary circumstances.  She extends her gratitude to all who keep us safe and free.


Her hometown is outside of Boston.  She lived for many years in New York City and more recently calls Connecticut her home.






Tags: , , ,
Fall Trees lit from below

Fall Trees lit from below



The Coming of Spooky Season


The first of September.


It’s the beginning of the shift from the bright season to the spooky season. The date used to mean going back to school, and this is what still shows on calendars and the annoyingly repetitious TV and print ads, but now it means so much more for me.


Fall is one of the transitional seasons, and it’s my favorite time of the year.  In the Midwestern world I used to occupy, it meant gradually dropping temperatures.  You could feel the shift in the air around you as the wind would start to pick up at night, blasting its way around my building, shaking the windows.


For me, autumn is when the night time forces of nature make their presence known.


I start to hear the skittle of fallen leaves being blown in circles on the sidewalks. This happens simultaneously with the sound of the wind worrying the dead and dying leaves that still cling to their branches, displaying spectacular new hues in their death throes as they change colors in the trees above me.


Even sunlight itself begins to change. Not as bright, not as warming as in previous months.


Back in Chicago, the waves racing across Lake Michigan seemed to look more gray and slate-like, cold and deadly to whoever dared venture onto it.  Then the water would begin to solidify into ice, and the freezing that started at the shore would extend outwards, never reaching the middle, but going far from the shore.  The glacial white, uneven top of this lake ice would be solid until the familiar roar of the ice breaking in the spring.


I love this time of year.


There are memories from childhood, of hunting for costumes in dime stores and for pumpkins at the local farm stands.  Now I generally buy my pumpkins at a farmer’s market or Trader Joe’s, but back in the Midwest we could drive out into the countryside and walk out into the fields.


Even the food changes.  “New” menu items are heralded in restaurants, though they seem familiar from previous years’ menus.  Weirdly shaped squash and wonderfully bizarre-looking root vegetables show up in the farmers market and are featured in the food magazines that come to me through the mail.


Out here in California, where seasonal changes are more subtle, autum is heralded in part by the appearance of those hokey, holiday magazines at the supermarket checkout stand.  I always buy one or two because this year I will use that decorating idea, or I will try that cute recipe with fingers popping up out of a graveyard sheet cake.  Yes, I really will.


And you?  What does the coming of fall mean to you?  Do you have rituals that you go through each year?


Tags: , , , , ,

Powered by Wordpress
Theme © 2005 - 2009 FrederikM.de
BlueMod is a modification of the blueblog_DE Theme by Oliver Wunder