CFF #6: Snow Angels by C.L. Mozena

Do you remember making snow angels as a child? Drift back to those magical wintry days and enjoy this story by C.L. Mozena that might remind you to slow down and make a few snow angels with someone you love. Read on and please leave a comment!

By

C.L. Mozena

Christina marveled as the snowflakes floated and danced all around her. She held her arms up and twirled. The snow had started last night while she was sleeping, and now everything was covered in sparkling white. The eight-year-old had heard that no two snowflakes were alike, and wondered how many angels it took to make all the pretty snowflakes. She flopped backwards and swung her arms and legs, making a snow angel. This was her favorite time of year.

Twenty years later, Christina tightened her scarf and braced herself for the frigid temperature as she left the store. She was overloaded with overflowing bags of things she had just bought. She was anxious to get herself, her bags, and her little girl in the car and get home. Her eyes searched for her car in the gigantic parking lot. She had been in the store for hours, and snow had begun to fall while she was inside, turning every car white. Including hers. Snow was still falling, making it that much harder to see.

A car sped by the sidewalk in front of the store, it’s tire hitting a puddle and splashing muddy slush onto Christina’s jeans. "Hey!" she yelled, but of course, the driver couldn’t hear her. Nobody else seemed to care. A gust of icy wind blew, causing Christina to stumble and drop one of her bags. It’s contents spilled out everywhere. The wind grabbed some of the things she just bought and blew them further away, into the line of traffic. As she scrambled to gather her things, she lost track of her seven-year-old. When she got back to the front of the store, her daughter wasn’t there. Christina’s heart skipped a beat as she searched the snowstorm for her little girl.

"I got it, Mommy!" Christina’s daughter skipped over to her, waving some box or other in the air. Relief mixed with anger at her daughter’s behavior. She didn’t know whether to hug her daughter because she was okay, or yell at her for running off. "Know what, Mommy?" her daughter looked up at the overcast sky. "My teacher says that no two snowflakes are the same. How many angels does it take to make all those snowflakes?" The little girl looked up at Christina with big, brown eyes.

"Lots of angels," Christina dropped her bags and knelt down on the frozen asphalt to hug her daughter. "Lots and lots."

****

Bio: C.L. Mozena lives in southeast Ohio. Originally from the big city, she enjoys the laid-back way of life that the country offers. She spends her days working on her latest novel and writing short fictional stories for the newspaper.

CLMozena.webs.com

CFF#5: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (At Mysti's House) by Leona Pence

For our fifth Christmas Flash Fiction contest entry, Leona Pence brings us a modernized take on this old classic. And it's surprisingly close to home, too...Read on to find out why and do leave a comment!

 (At Mysti's House)

by 

Leona Pence         

                    

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, except Mysti's spouse.

He hung all the stockings on the mantel with care,

His children expected St Nick to be there.

Mysti had filled them almost to the top,

With candy, small toys and a bubble gum pop…

Bryan laughed as these thoughts flitted through his mind as he tried to slip the bulging stockings onto the hooks. Mysti had outdone herself this year. Matter of fact, the eggnog was better too. He turned and drained his third mug of the creamy brew before stepping back to appraise his handiwork. Perfect! He spread his arms, palms up in satisfaction.

He moved across the room to his recliner, and noticed the pitcher of eggnog sitting on the coffee table. He couldn't see any sense in wasting it. One more mug full wouldn't hurt. He relaxed in the comfy chair and let his eyes wander around the room taking in the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree and the brightly wrapped packages nestled beneath its branches.

Zachary would have a lot of fun with the Monster Truck, almost as much as he did when picking it out. Bryan couldn't remember if Mysti had given in to Meg's plea for a cell phone. All kids wanted their own phone in this day and age, but his wife wasn't happy about the idea. Zoe had the right idea. He could still remember his first Nintendo. It was used, and a far cry from the ones made now.

He drained his eggnog mug and poured up the last three inches from the pitcher. He'd have to tell Mysti how great it tasted. Ah, Mysti. She'd worked so hard making Christmas good for all of them. He had a gift of jewelry under the tree for her but she deserved something special. What could he do?

And then, it came to him. Viola! She'd been working on her book for hours on end. He drank half the delicious eggnog in his cup, How hard could it be to finish typing that book for her? He stood and had to grab on the chair to stay upright. He grinned at being so clumsy, but held on to the furniture until he got to Mysti's computer desk and landed heavily in the chair. Thank goodness Mysti left her computer turned on.

How in the world did she get any work done on this blurry screen? It took him ten minutes to bring up her novel file. He squinted his eyes and read the last page she'd written. Elves and dragons. He could write about them in his sleep just by pretending he was playing a video game.

Bryan typed and typed, stopped to laugh at what he'd written, and typed some more. He decided to bring Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs into the story to help the elves. Surely elves and dwarves were related and would help each other. Finally, with a satisfied gasp, he typed The End.

He printed out the whole manuscript to wrap and put under the tree. Good grief, the wrapping paper kept wrinkling and he couldn't get the tape to hold it together. Oh well, it wasn't the wrapping that counted. He hoped the pages had numbers though; he'd dropped them twice while looking for the tape.

It felt so good knowing Mysti would be happy that her book was finished. He swayed as he carried his package toward the tree. He gasped and fell backwards onto the couch. St. Nick stood before the mantel adding more gifts and candy to the stockings. The manuscript slid out of Bryan's grasp and fell to the floor. Santa turned and his smile lit up the room like a bright sunny day. He walked over and picked up the manuscript, held it high above his head, and murmured a few unintelligible words. He lowered his hands so Bryan could see a beautiful hardback book with an amazing design. A touch of his finger covered the gift in an embossed gold wrapping with curls of rainbow ribbon gracing the top.

 

 "Merry Christmas, Bryan…and to all a goodnight"

Bryan fell back on the couch and drifted into a deep sleep. The next thing he knew, Mysti was shaking him awake. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Oh my God, what a dream he'd had. Mysti would kill him if he'd actually touched her work. Before he could tell her his dream, the kids bounded in to see what Santa had left for them.

He watched as Mysti passed out the gifts from under the tree. The children squealed in delight as they opened their packages. Then, Mysti looked at her own gifts. She held up the gold embossed package and smiled up at him. His eyes bugged out and his mouth dropped open. When she didn't see a name on the tag except her own, she sweetly asked who the gift was from. 

"Santa Claus," he whispered.

 ****

Bio:  Leona Pence, widowed mother to four, grandmother to twelve, and great grandmother to 1 and 1/2 . I started writing late in life with one novel, yet unpublished, and a few short stories to my credit.  I found my niche as a mentor in a free online writing course called F2K. I love what I do there, especially making friends from all over the world.

My motto is: When life hands you lemons, make the best lemonade possible.

      

      

CFF#4: Alistair's Dilemma by Maryetta Ackenbom

If you believe in a reason for this season, then you'll enjoy Maryetta Ackenbom's story. Travel behind the scenes to get a glimpse of the ageless battle between heaven and hell, and God's tide-turning gift to all mankind. Read on and leave a comment...

by

Maryetta Ackenbom

Alistair was confused. He could not decide whether to go with Lucifer or Jehovah. When Lucifer confronted Jehovah and gave his ultimatum, Alistair writhed with agony. Would he stay with his great Boss and take orders blindly, or would he seek independence with Lucifer?

Jehovah refused Lucifer’s ultimatum, as everyone knew He had to. After all, the boss was the Boss, right? Lucifer took his cadre of dissidents and left. Alistair still didn’t know what to do

When Jehovah asked for all the angels to come before Him and be counted, for Him or for Lucifer, Alistair hung back. Lucifer had left. Alistair wanted to be with him, but he also wanted to be with the Boss.

For Alistair, Jehovah created a place called Limbo, conceived for those who were unable, for one reason or another, to accept Jehovah as their absolute Master. There, among throngs of unbaptized babies and innocent people who never had the opportunity to know Jehovah, Alistair was considered first among equals. No longer an angel, Alistair had a place where he could look after impossible cases. He was the hindmost devil.

When the news came to him through his old angel friends that Jehovah was going to have a Child, Alistair knew he had to inform the whole population of Limbo. A big job, but Alistair had once been an angel and was now a devil, and he handled it.

Looking out from Limbo toward Bethlehem, Alistair witnessed the star, the shepherds, the Wise Men, and the arrival of the Babe. He was overwhelmed with emotion when he saw the Son of God, indeed, God Himself, as a new-born child, lying in a manger.

He lifted his tear-filled eyes to the Heavens. “God, I didn’t know. Now, because of Your sacrifice, so many people will be saved. Now I believe, and I totally reject Lucifer’s cause. Is there any chance I can come back to Heaven?”

Jehovah answered, “Alistair, the birth of my Child is a joyous symbol to all mankind. The Christ Child was meant to bring everyone closer to me. But you must be sure, Alistair. Is your new-found faith strong enough to withstand the temptation of doubt?”

Alistair hesitated. “I think so, Lord.”

Jehovah said, “You are better off where you are, Alistair. I created Limbo just for people like you, who would like to accept and believe, but have doubts. Alistair, have a happy Christmas. I’ll speak to you again at Easter-time. 

****

BIO: Several years of writing short stories spawned this attempt at a little bit of Christmas whimsy. I’m an active member of Writers’ Village University and a mentor at F2K.

CFF #3: All Is Bright by L.K. Killian

If you experienced a childhood that bordered on poverty, you will relate to this little Christmas tale by L.K. Killian about three sisters who had nothing much but each other. Read on and please leave a comment...

 by

L.K. Killian

I’m so cold. Martha is my big sister and a teenager.  She tells me if I walk faster, I won’t be so cold. We are only half way to my school and we still have a long way to go. I feel sorry for my little sister, Debra. We can’t get her to keep up with us. Her little bird legs are going to be blue in this cold. 

Martha is carrying the two gifts we are going to swap at the Christmas party. She said it would be okay if we brought our deck of Old Maid cards. And Debra found one of Mama’s little bottles of perfume that didn’t have too much missing. We had to wrap them in brown lunch sacks. 

It is so cold and dark. The dark scares me. The wind pushes us backward. I’m glad Martha is with us. I have my coat on but my legs are cold. I walk and walk but we’re not there yet. Martha tells us to put our hands in our coat pockets, but Debra needs my hand.  She’s afraid she will get left behind. I’m afraid, too. I know Martha is mad because she had to bring us. Mama went out to a party with her friends. This is my first party. Mama goes to a part just about every weekend. 

I’m happy about the party, but I’m so cold. I ask Martha if we can just go back home. She’s mad and says no because there’s going to be heck to pay when Mama finds out we took her perfume, so we just better go on to the party. I like it better when Martha takes my side. I don’t know if I’ll ever be as brave as Martha.

We are late. The pasty smelling room is not big and now it is has too many people. We can hardly get in the door. The Christmas tree is as big as a house and goes all the way up to the top of the ceiling. The room is dark, but the bright lights on the tree are like a hundred stars in the sky. 

Martha wants me to come on and find a place to sit, but I can’t move. I breathe in the smell of the tree. Martha won’t like it, but the Christmas tree makes me cry. It is so pretty. 

She says to sit down and watch Debra. I watch Debra all the time. I don’t mind, mostly. Debra is like me. We can’t stop looking at the tree. I see Martha put our sacks under the tree. 

My name is called and I have to go up and get my gift. Nobody at school ever gave me a gift. I rip off the paper and find a heavy glass bowl with a glass top. On the top of that is a little glass deer. Inside the bowl is the best smelling powder ever. 

Martha is reading the name on the sticker. She asks me if I know a boy named, John. I tell her I don’t. She says to look around the room and see who gave me this nice present.

I don’t want to look. I know the presents we brought are not as good as this one. I feel sad that a boy got mama’s perfume. 

The party is over. We have a long walk home. I keep thinking about the Christmas tree and my present. I’m not thinking about the cold anymore.

****

I think a lot of us have a book in our hearts and heads that keeps us company and wants to be written. After years of procrastinating, I wrote Journey to Rome and Hadrian’s Rome, two novellas.

When I retired, instead of buying a new car I took a trip to Rome. While there, Emperor Hadrian’s name came up at the Pantheon. This temple to the gods had been built around the first century, and burned twice, but he had his architects rebuild it. I had previously visited Hadrian’s Wall in England in 2002.

It was as if Roman Emperor Hadrian took over the English romance novel I had planned and made it his own. But I’m not complaining. These novellas have been a joy to write. I hope everyone enjoys them.

I could never have done this without the help of everyone at Writers Village University -WVU.com. I began by completing the F2K class twice, which is free. Another great help to those of us who wish to complete a draft of our novel is NANOWRIMO.COM. I just completed the draft of book 3 Druid Dreams at NANOWRIMO.

I would be happy to give anyone encouragement if you want to write your own novel.

You can find me at:

Facebook.com/L. K. Killian

Smashwords.com/ L. K. Killian

Merry Hobbitmas!

In honor of the upcoming release of The Hobbit *pausing until applause dies down*, you can buy & download the first book in my Tallenmere fantasy romance series, A Ranger's Tale, and get book two in the series, Serenya's Song, absolutely free!

You can get it right here: Buy ONE, get ONE free!!!

Ahem, excuse me!

Oh, hi Lilly! Everyone, in case you haven't met her, this is Lillyanne Sawyer, a spunky halfling that stars in both--

Just hold yer dragons, would ye?

Um, ok. What's up Lilly?

What is all this Hobbit madness? Everywhere I go, they're yellin', "Hey Hobbit! Can I get yer autograph?" How many shins do I have to kick to get them to leave me alone?

Everyone's just excited about the movie coming out, you know, about Bilbo Baggins, the original Hobbit, the most famous halfling in literature. He, Frodo, and Samwise inspired me to write you, after all. You could show some respect to your admirers.

For the last time, I'm Haddo, not Hobbit. Just because I'm short doesn't make me one of those whimperin' pups. Besides, I wear boots!

Bilbo helped defeat a dragon and helped the dwarves regain their treasure. And Frodo and Sam saved all of Middle Earth from an evil dark lord. That hardly makes them pups.

Those Hobbits whined more than a high elf with a broken nail. Not me. I didn't sit around and pout while a horde of demons destroyed my home and all of Tallenmere. I picked up my sword and fought with all I had. 

They did too, you know. And your adventures weren't quite that simple, were they?

In the end, that's all that mattered. When yer friends are in danger, ye don't stop fightin' until they're safe.

Have you even read The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings?

I got to the part where Bilbo fainted and threw the whole thing against the wall.

Maybe you should finish it. Just sayin'.

Fine, but if one more person calls me a Hobbit, I'll make 'em wish they'd not crawled from their mother's womb!

Whew! Lilly's a firecracker, that's for sure. But, if you're like me and love Tolkienesque fantasy mixed with unforgettable romance, take advantage of this BOGO deal while it lasts!

**PDF, html, and ePub available**  http://www.melange-books.com/authors/mystiparker/parkerarangerstale.html

CFF #2: A Happy Irish Christmas by Leila Smith

What's better than a homespun Christmas with a house full of family and fun? You'll be reminiscing about great Christmases past with this story from Leila Smith. Read on and please leave a comment!

by 

Leila Smith

The cottage was rather cozy that Christmas morning after the O’Connell family came back from walking to midnight Mass. The candle guiding the holy family had been placed in the window earlier and the milk and bread was set out on the kitchen table near a larger lit candle as tradition dictated. Once their three children were sent upstairs to sleep, Doro and Patrick set about readying the cottage for Father Christmas.  Doro put the turkey in the oven and then the deserts, including the Christmas pudding, while Pat took a small nap in the living room. He went out when it was daybreak to fetch some peat blocks for the fireplace, the musky woody darkness still clinging to his shoes as he came into the living room.  From the nearby kitchen, the rich spiciness of cinnamon and apple reached Pat as he was lighting the fire, Doro’s pie was almost ready to cool now.  Pat couldn’t wait for the moist goodness to reach his tongue!

The week before had been busy and hectic and now the little family was looking forward to a quiet Christmas with only Doro’s brother Daniel and his young family coming to visit. Her older brother Connor and his family would be spending Christmas with his wife Peggy’s family in England this year.  Their gifts of homemade sweets and special toys were in each child’s stocking after Pat worked the fire into a crackling roar and Father Christmas’s two gifts placed under the tree.  It looked to be the beginning of a lovely Christmas. 

In lieu of working outside the home this year, Doro had done paintings and sold them at Peggy’s shop in Dublin, on top of the ones she made as early gifts to everyone.  That did bring in a nice amount of money, but most of it after taxes went to bills since Pat’s construction work cut his workdays yet again.  Their car was also in the shop and was due to be picked up the day after Christmas, so that was more money spent.  Despite all this, they did get their traditional two gifts apiece for everyone, and a big fat turkey this time.  Doro wanted a fine dinner with all the trimmings to welcome Daniel and his young family. After an engagement of four years, he had married Bridget in March and they decided to try for a baby.  So along came Aidan Patrick, two weeks earlier, and the newest little treasure had made off with a handmade cradle from his uncle Patrick and a hand knitted blanket from auntie Doro. Now, the cottage was quite still, with only the quiet murmurs of two parents scurrying about and the deep breathing of three sleeping children upstairs.

The rich spices of the apple pie and Christmas pudding wafted through the cottage and the turkey’s gamey aroma titillated everyone’s taste buds throughout the morning as the family began to waken.  Four-year-old Aoife Louise was the first to come bounding downstairs at 6am sharp, followed by seven-year-old Daniel Patrick and ten-year-old Liam Charles, still tousle headed and groggy in their striped pajamas.  All three raced giggling to their stockings, for that was first thing to do that morning.  Despite not usually letting them do so, Doro let them eat a light breakfast of hot cereal and a small piece of Christmas spice cake in the living room while they sifted through their stockings.  Aoife let out a delighted squeak when she went through hers. Not only did she get Aunt Peggy’s candy, her uncle Connor sent her a wood carved German baby doll from the Krahmer doll company. It was a beauty, with painted blond hair and bright blue eyes, and a cute little purple outfit with matching blanket.  At just six inches long, it was perfect for her little hands to hold. Daniel got a travel art set that included professional quality supplies with his candy while Liam got a handmade mini chess set from Connor and his family.  All three children got little trinkets and a mini-Christmas cracker in their stockings as well. 

As for the parents, Pat enjoyed his Swiss army knife and the mini radio from his stocking while Doro gasped when she saw her gifts. She had no clue how he had managed to get her a real pearl necklace and earring set with the money troubles they had. Doro loved them though and said that they would be just the right thing to go with her dinner outfit later on that day.  Pat just blushed and giggled when she then coyly said his ‘other‘gift would be saved for later! Liam saw all this and just rolled his emerald eyes and groaned, then playfully teased his parents with the admonition that he wasn’t ready for another brother or sister just yet.  Doro nearly spit out the tea she had been drinking at that and the three of them enjoyed roaring laughter before cleaning up the living room.

Two hours later, at 9am, the family all had their baths and was dressed in their finest clothes, watching a movie on the television when a knock on the front door was heard.  Knowing their guests had arrived, Pat answered the door and helped Bridget and the baby in while Liam scampered out to help Daniel bring in gifts from the car. Doro immediately had everyone sit down once everything was brought in, and at the dinner table, the family pulled Christmas crackers and chatted while the table was set for dinner.  At 10am, the table was set, with all the trimmings, and Pat brought out the golden brown turkey. What a bird it was too! Dripping with tender juiciness and with meat falling off the bones, everyone heartily agreed that this was Doro’s finest achievement yet as far as dinners went.  Once each plate was filled to the brim, Pat led the blessing before the family savored their meal. It was a very happy Christmas indeed.

****

Bio: Leila Smith lives in a small town in Tennessee but hails originally from Indiana.  She loves to write, read, and listen to music along with spoiling her feline muse Lovebug.  Leila hopes to be a published writer one day, however she realizes that would require actually completing a novel of some sort so she knows she has a way to go. Either way, she wishes everyone a safe and warm holiday season and Merry Christmas!  

CFF #1: Harley at the Mall by TJ Marshall

To kick off our Christmas Flash Fiction contest, please welcome TJ Marshall, whose character Harley stars in many hilarious adventures. In this one, Harley discovers something's not quite right about the Santa at his local mall...Read on and be sure to leave a comment!

by

TJ Marshall

“I’m telling you Hank, he’s fer real.” Harley leaned back in his rocker chair and sipped his beer.

“Ah Harley, ev’ry time you say something like that, it ends up costing me.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t want a cut? We could score big this Christmas.”

“I’m not saying nothing. It’s just you got a big problem with getting excited over everything.” Hank grabbed a cold beer from the cooler then sat down on a stool.

“What if I could prove it?” Harley belched. “What then?”

“You can’t prove nothing of the sort.” He popped the top and drank from his can. “Santa’s a figment of somebody’s ima… imagan… someone made him up. And you knows as well as I do, that one in the mall’s just an actor.”

“Not when I was there. He was fer real like I said.”

“Oh come on, Harley.  Why you believe that?

“You wants to hear the story?”

“Do I have a choice? You bought the beer.”

Harley drained his can then held his hand out to his friend.

 Hank leaned over and dug into the cooler.  He swished the ice around then pulled a can with a big blue ribbon on the side.  He threw it to the old man in the rocker.

“Thanks.” He pushed the porch floor with his feet, setting the rocker in motion. “Alright, remembers I told you I was going to the mall a few days ago?”

“Yeah, you said you needed to get a new stick shift knob fer your truck.”

“Yep, that were the time.  Well, they had the Santa stand all set up in the space by the fountain.”

“It’s called a feryer.”

“Whatever they calls it, they had it made up like the north pole done relocated to Shelmaville.  There were barber poles dressed up with white fluff making them looked like it done snowed, and a green and red throne big enough to make yer daddy proud.

All around there were decorations.  They had a huge tree done up in lights and strings of popcorn. The gold star at the top nearly touched the glass roof. Underneath they done placed gifts with giant red bows glittering with sparkles.”

“I know what it looks like, Harley.  I went there just yesterday.”

“So why’s you let me say all that?”

Hank shrugged and chuckled. 

“I’m of a mind to not tell you now.”  Harley clicked his tongue and looked toward the muddy driveway.

 “Oh, go on. You know you wants to tell me, so finish your story.”

Harley shook his head and narrowed his eyes at the other. “Well, like I done said, they had it all decorated. In front of it all, there were a line of young’uns with their mothers that reached to the mall doors.  They were going on about what they planned to ask Santa for and fidgeting like they were in line for an outhouse.”

“So whatcha do?”

“I walked past them all and went to the hardware store. What did you think I was going to do? Stand in that line?”

“No… but… nevermind.”

“Well, after fighting the crowd at Sares, and getting my part fer a decent price, I headed back towards the entrance, ready to go and fix up my truck. That’s when everything changed fer me.”

Hank leaned forward, holding his beer in both hands. “What changed fer you?”

“Everything I thought I knew about Santa.”

“What happened?”

“I was coming up on the… fer-yer?” He looked at Hank who nodded. “When Santa got outta his chair and walked my way.  I took a good look at him because something seemed odd.  All the other Santa’s I had done seen where plain and you could tell they were actors.  They’d have those strap-on beards and you could see the outline of a pillow under their suits.

“This guy, though, was different.  His long white beard was real.  His fat was real.  And instead of a plain poly-hester costume, his suit was real.  It looked like red velvet and it done had green trimming that sparkled like stars.  His eyes were as blue as the sky in middle of spring turkey season and his cheeks and thick nose were red and chapped like he done stood in the cold fer too long.”

“That doesn’t sound like the guy I saw.  He had one of them tie-on beards.”

“See? I told you, this guy was different.  My stomach started acting up as he walked toward me.  At first I thought I ate something that didn’t agree with me, but when I started to sweat, I just knew something special was about to happen.  I’ll never forget what he said to make a believer outta me fer good.”

“What did he say?”

“He looked at me with his bluer than blue eyes and says, ‘Excuse me, Harley. I need to get by.’”

“He said that? He used yer name?”

“He did as sure as I’m sitting here.” He crossed his arms, leaned back and nodded his head.”

Hank stared at him then sighed. “Harley, weren’t you wearing that shirt when you went to the mall?”

“The very same.”

“Well, it’s got yer name right there on yer chest.”

“No it don’t.” He moved his arms, smiling and allowed his friend to read the green oval over his right breast pocket. “This is your shirt.”

****

Bio: TJ Marshall is a father of two adorable girls, a career soldier and a writer of fiction.  TJ just entered the world of writing in January 2012 when he enrolled in the F2K creative writing course.  Since completing the course, he has gone on to join Writer's Villiage university participated in this year’s National Novel Writer’s Month for the first time and won.  He is currently working on his first novel, a fantasy adventure titled The Finder’s Tome. It is scheduled for release in late spring, 2013 as an e-book. In his spare time, TJ enjoys creating custom designed dream catchers and spending time with his girls.

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