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The blog of author Luke Phillips
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Category: Indie Books
Happy Halloween – New Chapter Preview
Posted on October 31, 2019 October 31, 2019 by Luke Phillips
Hello everyone. I know it's been a little quiet here of late, but, as promised on social media, a sneak peek at a key chapter from the upcoming third book in the "Beast" series is below. No trick, just a treat for Halloween!
In the next few days, The Daughters of the Darkness will be launching on Audible, and Phantom Beast should hit digital bookshelves early next year.
Chayton had been watching from the ridge since dusk. His sharp eyes had studied the ranch house and the big sweeping drive that curved in from the little-used track. But his main focus had been the barn and its out-buildings – the Midnight kennels in all their dishonourable glory. He closed his eyes, remembering the scratch marks on the black-painted boards of the floor and the ramps that led to the central pit. Most dogs, no matter the breed, didn't want to fight. Chayton had watched the wolves and coyotes he'd encountered and tracked. Canines were one of the few species with highly-developed body language that signalled hierarchy and dominance. They had evolved this effective form of communication to avoid the physical fights that pack life might otherwise encourage. Squabbles over everything from who should be first at the dinner table to where they wanted to sleep, had the potential to escalate into a fight that risked serious injury or death. By showing they were willing to give in to a dominant animal, most confrontations ended quickly and peacefully.
Chayton opened his eyes again and lifted his binoculars. It had been dark for a good few hours now, and the lights were on in the barn. Preparations were under way. Beneath the soft yellow glow of a light at the front of one of the out-buildings, a door opened, and Beau stepped out into the cold night. Chayton could see the gasping puffs of the fat man hanging in the air. In his hand, he held three short leather leads, each of which belonged to a large, powerful dog. The three pit bulls didn't pull away. They stood to attention, their cropped ears erect on top of their skulls. All of their attention was focused on the barn opposite the out-building. The dogs wagged their tails in anticipation. It made Chayton feel sick.
Midnight's dogs also showed pack mentality. The three brothers hunted and killed together, working as a cohesive team. To them, the other dogs were outsiders, and just as with wolves, outsiders weren't tolerated – and no submission or backing down would save them. Atlas stood in front of his two slightly smaller brothers. He was slate grey, with amber coloured eyes. His face was covered in tiny pink blotches, which from afar looked like a natural variation in his colouring, but was in fact old, heeled scar tissue. His chest had a bib of white, making him a strikingly handsome dog. He was the alpha. His brothers, Blitz and Blaze, had been sired by the same father, Midnight's former champion, to a different bitch. They were black and white in colour, but whereas Blitz was predominantly black, with a white left ear and feet, Blaze was white, with a black eye patch and saddle. Chayton knew that on their own, each of the dogs had pleasant-enough temperaments, and he felt sorry for them in a way. But they were pure gladiators now: trained on treadmills, baited, and given smaller animals to practice on. And together, they were unstoppable killing machines. It ends tonight, he thought.
He waited another five minutes before making his way back down the ridge to where he'd parked the old Dodge, a little way off the same trail that led to the ranch. In the back of the pickup was a large wooden crate, and behind the truck itself, he was towing an old horse box. He checked on both before getting behind the wheel of the truck and heading towards the Midnight ranch.
As Chayton pulled into the drive, Beau stepped out of the main barn, and quickly directed him to the back of the building. Chayton had been counting on this, and he was pleased not to have to alter his plans too much. He parked up, carefully pulling the truck round so that it faced back down the drive. He deliberately and carefully backed the horsebox up so it's rear-opening door was close to the ramp and double doors that led directly to the pit. He stepped out and walked with Beau into the barn.
"What's in the crate?" Beau asked, correctly assuming the cat was in the horse box.
"Coyote," Chayton replied. "Warm-up act."
Beau nodded approvingly.
The barn had a stink that the other men couldn't pick up on. Their senses were dulled, even switched off to it, but he could sense it. Ghosts walked here. Dogs that had been dragged down the ramp, terrified. Their claws had gripped the concrete and boards to no avail. He had seen it many times – the dogs hunkering flat and whimpering softly as if to plead with their captors. Thick leather leads, or in most cases, just rope, was used to drag these unwilling combatants to the arena, and ultimately to their demise. Chayton said a prayer for them, and the others that would die tonight. Whatever happened, they would be the last to be sacrificed here for the sportsman's entertainment.
Chayton knew he would have to be patient, and he had already resolved himself to the possibility of failure. The cat could choose not to respond to his commands when the time came or might panic when he made his move. This would be their first test working together, and quite possibly their last. Chayton studied the interior of the barn. Despite not looking like much from the outside, the building was thoroughly soundproofed, and even shielded from thermal imaging cameras. With only two entrances, it was practically a fortress. And tonight, he and the cat would bring it down.
Beau was grinning at Chayton, dumbly. The man must have weighed 300lbs. His beer-belly spilled over his jeans, which in turn were held up by dirty, tightly-pulled braces. His mop of hair was now shoved under a Jackson Jaguar's cap. He epitomised everything the modern American stood for: greed, laziness, and apathy. Right there and then, Chayton wanted nothing more than to purge it from the land. But he kept his temper staid, and moved on, looking over the ground with Beau. All seemed in order for the fight, and they walked back to the truck.
As they drew close, Chayton heard the coyote in the crate snap its jaws and yikker in fear. Chayton drew closer and began to whisper to the animal through the wooden slats.
"One last trick to play my friend," Chayton said.
The coyote quieted at the sound of his voice, and then new, pleading, pup-like murmurings came from the crate instead. Chayton nodded to Beau as he climbed back into the truck to wait. There was nothing else to do now. He put the radio on and drifted off to old country and western tunes. About an hour later, he was woken by Beau knocking on the window. He looked worried. Chayton rolled down the glass.
"That's one pissed-off mountain lion," Beau exclaimed. "I ain't never heard no critter growl like that before."
"You ain't seen nothing yet," Chayton replied.
"Well, I will soon enough, it's show time," Beau said. He seemed expectant.
Chayton sighed and stepped out of the truck. He could hear them now. The barn was full of both spectators and animals. It was time. He headed to the crate, speaking again to the coyote inside with soft, comforting tones. In one swift, deft move, he slid open the crate door and grabbed the animal by the ruff of the neck. Within moments, he had slipped a rope noose over its head. Obediently it stepped off the bed of the truck and followed Chayton at a casual trot a little way down the ramp.
As nervous and excited growls began to echo in the darkness, the coyote froze and cowered. As if sensing it, a symphony of barking erupted from the direction of the pit. Through his light touch on the rope, Chayton could feel the coyote trembling. He stooped gently, gathering it into his arms and walking the rest of the way.
As he entered the arena, Chayton took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The only lights were positioned at the four corners of the pit, angled downwards at the floor. He walked down the ramp towards the drop off, still carrying the coyote. He could feel it tensing in his arms. His muscles flexed to keep it in place.
"Goodbye brother. I thank you for your honourable sacrifice," Chayton whispered.
He let his arms fall to his side and dropped the animal into the pit. It screamed in fright, encouraging a round of jeering laughs from the crowd. Chayton couldn't make out too many faces, which he knew was the idea. Anonymity was good for business. The pit was flanked on three sides by steep banks of basic wooden benches, and they were filled with Midnight's elite friends and contacts. But the man himself hadn't arrived yet. He always liked to make a big entrance, and Chayton knew the main man never arrived until the main event.
The coyote scrabbled against the wooden walls and ran its teeth against them to try and get purchase. It jumped and reared up on its hind legs, but the pit had been designed to hold much larger animals with ease. It ran back and forth in panic, then froze. A sound emanated from the back wall, where a partition was beginning to open up. A dark, square hole was left in its place, but from it came the sounds of a frantic pattering of paws and heavy, panting breaths. Two dogs erupted from the hole, one brindle-coloured, the other tan. The two pit bulls skidded to a halt when they saw the coyote and wagged their tails in anticipation. Chayton had seen the dogs before – some of Midnight's less prominent champions. But no less formidable. Expertly, they flanked the coyote, barking and snapping their teeth to drive it into the far corner of the pit.
The brindle pit bull trotted along the far wall, rubbing up against it. It wagged its tail, moving confidently but not too quickly. It was panting gently and approached the coyote directly from the front. The tan dog had skirted to the back wall and was coming up on the coyote's rear. It seemed to stop for a microsecond, then jerked forward, bouncing on its front paws and delivering a slashing bite to the coyote's rear flank. The coyote whipped its head around, snarling viciously, giving the brindle dog to the front its opening. It lunged, grabbing the coyote's jaws from the side and clamping them closed with its own. The coyote screamed high-pitched growls as it bucked and shook its head back and forth, but the pit bull would not be easily thrown. Then the tan-coloured dog rushed in for its second attack.
The first bite hadn't really done much damage. The coyote's coat was well equipped for a rough life, and the pit bull had come away with a mouth of fur. But now, it had the luxury of knowing the coyote couldn't fight back and looked for a more prominent attack. A glancing blow of its teeth to the flank again bounced the dog's head downwards, where it found the coyote's softer underbelly and genitals. It attacked mercilessly, ripping and tearing with violent shakes of its head. The brindle dog began a gruesome tug of war with its tan counterpart. It emerged from underneath the coyote, its jaws bloody. The coyote collapsed, and the tan dog adjusted its grip with a snap of its jaws, gunning for the throat. The brindle pit bull pounced too, tunnelling into the flesh just below the coyote's front left shoulder. It wouldn't be quick, but it was over. The coyote wouldn't get up again.
Over the next five minutes, Chayton felt his nerves become frayed as the dogs occasionally adjusted their grips or tore into a new part of the coyote. It made no sound now, but Chayton could see the chest still moving up and down as it gulped down its last breaths. Finally, a cheer went up from around the pit as the dogs were announced victorious. The barn went quiet again, and suddenly, Chayton knew it was time.
As if to confirm his thoughts, a large door opened on one of the upper levels of the barn, and a huge man stepped out to look down onto the pit. It was their gracious host in the flesh. Aeneas 'Midnight' Martin was bald, black, and big even for a quarterback. At six feet and four inches tall, he weighed in at 365lbs. But although undoubtedly a heavyweight on the field, every inch of him was muscle. He was a professional and most-disciplined athlete. And this operation wouldn't be possible if he didn't have the smarts to match. As Midnight walked to the rail, he looked down towards the pit and nodded his approval to Beau and Jace, who had joined Chayton.
"Pussy time," Beau giggled.
Chayton ignored him.
"Just as you asked, the dogs will be waiting," Jace smirked.
Hearing the pit door open up again, Chayton couldn't help himself as he took a step forward and stole a quick glance. The three dogs looked up at him expectantly. Atlas, Blitz, and Blaze. The undefeated Midnight champions. Chayton walked back down the ramp towards the rear entrance, ignoring Beau and Jace's mocking leers.
As soon as he was back out in the open, Chayton made sure he was alone before he skirted around to the front. He checked the door. Locked during a fight, just as it always was. It was now or never. He headed back to the truck. Chayton began to talk gently as he moved along the side of the horse trailer, tapping the sides lightly so that the animal inside would know he was there. He unbolted the ramp at the rear and lowered it to the ground.
She anchored herself to the floor of the trailer, her claws extending instinctively as her haunches raised, preparing to launch her forwards and into the air instantly. As the night sky became visible again though, she relaxed, catching the earthy scent of the one that brought her food. She knew by the sweat and pheromones in the scent that this companion of sorts was male. She trusted him. She rose and padded forwards, letting out a deep purr of contentment. The strange contraption, the noise of dogs in the distance, and the scent of strangers had unsettled her. But now, she expected a meal to be provided.
Her mass made the ramp reverberate, but although she had been wary of it on entering the box, she now knew not to fear it. The man stood by the side of the contraption, and she turned around to join him. Her head came roughly to his shoulders as she came to a stop and stood by his side. She could sense from his body language that this pleased him. As he walked towards a dwelling she was unfamiliar with, she followed, only to come to a halt again. She could hear dogs inside, and the scent of others. Ones like him. Until now, he had always turned her away when they came across their scent or heard them in the distance. He took another step towards the dwelling.
Chayton was patient, but he couldn't risk taking too long. If somebody came out to check on him, it would be over. He couldn't let an alarm go up.
"Come Tama," he called.
Although it was meant to be a Native American name, Chayton hadn't christened the cat. It had been named by the person who had brought it into the world. The mother had been a mountain lion, the great cat of the Americas, and they had looked for an appropriate name. In numerous baby books, Tama, or Taima, was often described as a Native American girl's name that meant thunder or thunderbolt in Blackfoot or Navajo. But it didn't actually mean anything, in any native language. The closest was a historical chief of the Meskwaki. The English shortening of his name, Tewameha, was Taima, but it still didn't mean thunder. Chief Tewameha simply belonged to the thunder clan. It equally amused and annoyed Chayton that people couldn't even get that right.
Chayton stood by the door. Tama lowered her head, inquisitive, but still uncertain.
"Asá," Chayton commanded, using one of the many Crow words meaning to hunt.
She understood the meaning of the command, and instantly dropped to the ground. Her shoulder muscles tensed. Her ears flicked in the direction of the building. She powered forward, rippling over the ground in silence. She kept low as she worked her way to the door. She paused only momentarily as she stared into the darkness. Then she was gone. Tama was inside the barn.
Beau Brown looked expectantly towards the entrance ramp. There was very little light, but he had detected the movement. Something stepped forward. Something immense. The man smiled in relief. Damn injun, he did have a bear, he thought. He couldn't see much more than a silhouette, but the animal was huge. It certainly wasn't a mountain lion. As he strained his eyes, he was sure he could see the hump on the back. Not just any bear, a grizzly. Worth every buckBeau smiled. But then the bear did a strange thing. It roared. Beau jumped at the deafening sound, and his heartbeat accelerated wildly. Something didn't feel right. He felt frightened. There was a flash of reddish brown fur, as something dropped into the pit. As it stepped into the light, Beau took a sharp intake of breath. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was impossible.
Tama tensed the muscles in her forelegs. She purred as she sensed the unease of the dogs. Their scent was flooded with pheromones that indicated fear. The nearest of the three animals was larger and seemed more dominant than the other two. Overconfidently, she turned her head in its direction. That's when, with a sudden outbreak of furious barking, the other two lunged at her, jaws agape. The mixed dark and light hues of one of the dogs made it easier to see than its counterpart. It also seemed to move quicker. She saw the attack coming, but her long whiskers flexed as they picked up the vibration. The sensed the minute changes in air flow as they moved around the alpha animal, flanking her as the other two distracted her. She reacted out of instinct.
Her left front paw, the size of a dinner plate, smashed down onto the dark-coloured dog's head almost casually. She turned her head, plucking the alpha dog from its mid-air leap and crushing its skull between her jaws. Its body went limp, hanging from her mouth in a macabre manner. She enjoyed the sensation of the thick hot blood that she could taste. As she felt a struggled movement under her left paw, black, razor-like claws extended and sliced through the dog's skull. She dropped the dog that she carried in her mouth and stepped over the body of the one under her feet. The remaining dog whimpered at her approach.
At first, Beau thought it must be a clever hoax. The native had somehow dressed up the beast with a hump and elongated fangs. But as the creature dispatched the dogs with vicious ease, full panic set in. This thing, whatever it was, was real. And it moved like lightning. Beau rushed forward, but it had already cleared the pit. A blur passed in front of him, racing its way upwards into the benches. He could hear the people shouting, but still couldn't comprehend what was happening. A bloody, mangled body fell to the ground ahead of him. He recognised Blaze's blood-stained fur. He stumbled backwards, making his way towards the rear door. Finding it locked didn't surprise him, but the heat he felt, and the cracking, spitting noise from the timber outside did.
Chayton watched bright orange licks of flame spread across the barn. The cold mountain air fed the fire, helping it spread as a breeze whipped at the building's walls. The dry, warped wood on the outside eagerly embraced the inferno. Smoke began to billow as the black paint melted and stripped, adding to the potent scent of the fire. The outer hull of the barn began to buckle under the onslaught of the flames, the wood popping and exploding with sharp, loud cracks. Chayton readied himself, and reached into the cab for his weapon, but not before he pulled the thin silver whistle from his pocket. He blew on it hard.
Tama leapt from the pit with a roar, scrabbling her way up the tightly bunched bench seats. She found soft, wriggling flesh under her feet, and she clawed and bit and bellowed as she sought a way out. The screams of her prey fuelled a frenzy of lunges and swipes, each blow bringing down a new, mangled body. She tore strips of bloody, warm meat from the bodies as she went, eating on the run.
Just like the dogs, she had sensed the fire way before the men had. The smoke within the barn was beginning to subdue them, and they tripped over each other in their panic. There was now no doubt for her that these animals were prey. They reacted like any herd, driven together by fear and her presence. She revelled in it, roaring loudly above the sound of the raging fire. Then she heard the piercing sound that penetrated the dark interior. She leapt into the air back towards the pit, clearing it and barrelling towards the dark, fiery wall ahead of her. Although this was hotter and fiercer, she had been acclimatised to it by the one who fed her. She remembered the burning tree frames he had encouraged her to pass under, with him by her side. He had made the same piercing calls then. He was letting her know that he wasn't far away and how to escape. She accelerated hard and leapt again with a roar that drowned out her fear and hesitancy. The act filled her bloodstream with adrenaline and fuelled her strength. The wood splintered at her touch, and a vacuum of cold air swept into the space behind her.
She stopped to stand by the male, whose hand patted her hard and reassuringly. She shook a few glowing embers from her fur coat and looked back at the fire. Just like the animals inside, she no longer had to fear it. He had seen to that. They watched it burn for several minutes, until the structure began to collapse in on itself.
Chayton was sure nobody was coming out. He walked with Tama round to the back of the trailer and allowed her to take her time to get comfortable. She lay down, seemingly unscathed by the ordeal. He would let her rest as he checked the rest of the property. He couldn't afford for there to be any stray witnesses.
As he walked back around towards the truck, he caught the movement coming from the shell of the barn and ducked back out of sight. He heard the rapport of the gun, but the shot was in no danger of hitting him. The bullet slammed into a tree about thirty feet to his left. He stepped out again, this time more confidently.
Aeneas Martin had been seriously burnt. How he was even managing to stand somewhat baffled Chayton. Raw, pink flesh hung from his cheeks. Chayton could see where the skin had melted, becoming a thick, tar-like glue that had smeared itself to the quarterback's cheekbones. A hole had burnt its way through his jaw, and Chayton could see the wrinkled pink gum as drool pooled over the yellowed teeth uncontrollably. Midnight stood about twenty feet from Chayton, and held a large revolver in his right hand, which shook uncontrollably.
Chayton gripped his own weapon a little tighter. It was cumbersome and heavy, but in the right hands, deadly. The buffalo jawbone war club was intricately decorated with inlaid gold thread and emblems of his own design. He had reinforced the raw bone with a natural varnish of honey, salt, and pine sap. And the large teeth set in the curved single edge had been fused into the bone by being dipped in molten steel and sharpened. The weathered leather handle allowed him to throw it with mortal accuracy or wield it up close without slipping from his hand. Until now, it had all been just practice. But now, he realised he would be required to kill, just as Tama had been.
He closed the distance between Midnight and himself with a darting, zigzagged run. The quarterback tried to follow his movements but had no hope of doing so. Chayton suspected the man would soon succumb to his wounds if he left him, but in his heart, he knew he was being tested. He had to show resolve, that he was prepared to make the sacrifices he asked of Tama. He closed in on Midnight from the left, gripping the war club with both hands as he did. He swung it sideways with incredible might, sending the athlete tumbling to the ground. Even here, the heat of the fire had melted the snow, leaving Midnight to crawl through the mud as Chayton circled him. He looked down at the charred, defeated frame of what had been a powerful man. He was both excited and shocked at how the strike from the club had lifted the flesh from the scalp, peeling it back like a clump of grass in the wind. Fresh blood flowed from the wound, trickling down Midnight's face.
Chayton now felt panicked and upset. He had no interest in being cruel or callous. Midnight was suffering unimaginable horrors. Chayton did not want to take pleasure, or too long, in the man's death. He spun the club in his hand and raised it above his head, bringing it back down with a decisive strike. Midnight collapsed onto the ground instantly. Life, spirit, and strength left the body all at once, the remaining flesh slapping back into the dirt like a gut pile cut from a strung-up deer. With one hand, Chayton pulled Midnight's body towards the trailer and the open ramp.
Tama received her gift eagerly, using her teeth to drag the bloodied carcass into the back of the trailer with her. The rough surface of her tongue removed the skin and remaining flesh from the skull, allowing her to savour the sweet, coppery taste of the blood. As Chayton closed up the ramp, she had begun to gorge herself on the chest and legs. He secured the ramp before taking a final walk around the property to make sure no other fight goers, or evidence survived.
Posted in Books, Characters, Creature, Halloween, Horror, Indie Authors, Indie BooksTagged Chapter Preview Halloween Sneak Peek2 Comments
Phantom Beast – A preview to the first chapter!
Posted on October 14, 2018 by Luke Phillips
So, as I am a little behind where I thought I'd be with Book 3, and some very patient readers have been in touch to ask how things are going, I thought I'd give you a sneak peek at the work in progress.
The opening chapter to the upcoming 'Phantom Beast' sees us in the wilds of Wyoming. How did we get here you may ask? Well, here's a quick recap.
In the first book, Shadow Beast, we meet Thomas Walker, the main character in the 'Beast' series. Later on in the story, we learn that somewhere in his past, he spent time with a team of expert trappers and hunters in Wyoming. Here, we meet the son of the leader of that team. The rest, I'l let you figure out for yourselves!
JOHNSON COUNTY, WYOMING
Jesse Logan woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. He was on alert instantly, his eyes darting to the door and then the cracked open windows out of instinct. He knew he still felt uncomfortable sleeping in what had been his father's room. It was worse now Nina had left – she had brought warmth and life back to the upper floor of the old ranch house. But even before then, the room had never disturbed him this much before. Then he heard it. The horses were whinnying and neighing in anger and panic. Rhythmic thumps sounded out as the stallion kicked at the enclosing walls of the wooden stable. It wanted out, and so did the mare. But it was the heifers that were making the most noise. They were on the move and calling to each other in unbridled fear.
Jesse wiped the sweat from his brow and flung back the covers, dropping his feet to the floor. He moved to the window and peered out. The unforgiving Wyoming landscape, gripped by the icy tendrils of winter, loomed back. The foothills and woodland that bordered the Caterwaul Ranch to the west, eventually gave way to the more impressive Bighorn mountains and forest. A heavy mist was descending from them now, reminding Jesse of the movie 'The Fog', or the original version at least. He'd never seen the remake.
The cattle were breaking from one side of the field to the other, constantly on the move and bunched together in a tight herd. He cursed, stuffing his naked feet into his boots and throwing on a thick padded sweater from the drawer. He shuffled downstairs, leaning heavily on the open banister as he went. As he passed the gun cabinet in the hallway, he opened it and pulled out a Winchester 12-gauge shotgun, padding the sweater's pockets with shells of buckshot at the same time.
He opened the double doors of the ranch house and stepped out onto the deck, which was covered by a veranda. It helped block some of the bright moonlight that was illuminating the yard and meadows beyond. Both the cattle and horses were now quiet, although the livestock were still on the move. He let his gaze wander from right to left before stepping off the porch and making his way across the yard.
He was half way when the sudden silence struck him. Jesse was overcome by a feeling he hadn't experienced for some time. Somewhere, out in the dark, he knew a big cat was watching him. Most of the county's mountain lions had learnt a long time ago to avoid the ranch. The efforts of his father and his team of hunters had meant generations of cats now avoided the area. Known as the 'hole in the wall gang', they had taken the name from the group of infamous outlaws, including Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, who in turn had taken the name from the nearby gorge that served as their base of operations. Mountain lion numbers in Wyoming were dropping, to the point where even lion hunters had suggested reducing the availability of permits, after seeing less than ten percent success one season. But if a cat had decided to visit the ranch, that was equally troubling.
Jesse pressed on, now bringing down his feet heavily and making his presence known. Jesse had adopted the same strict protocols as his father and had sworn never to take a life without reason. If the lion hadn't attacked his animals, he would leave it be. But as he neared the boundary fence of the fields and meadows where the livestock were, he realised that was no longer an option.
He only kept a small herd of Simmental yellow cattle, mainly in remembrance of his father, but he could already see they were scared. The animals were bunched tightly between a stand of Canadian hemlock trees and the back of the stable, where the horses were kept. He could see the heavy breath of the cattle in the cold night air. Their searching eyes bulged in fright and eerily reflected the moonlight.
For many years, the family business had been predator control. Jesse didn't quite share his father's tenacity for it. He'd recently spoken out against both wolf and mountain lion hunting in Wyoming. His real passion was in breeding animals for quality and purpose. He had chosen the Simmental cattle for their ability to stand Wyoming winters and the rich marbling their meat offered. But he was also interested in improving the quality further and had recently introduced a new strain in the form of a black American Gelbvieh bull. It was an experiment, and he was keen to see the results. As he climbed the wooden fence, he straddled it and sat with his legs either side, hesitating. He looked towards the upper meadows where he knew the bull and the cows he had selected to breed from were. It was ominously quiet. As he sat there, he considered returning to the barn behind the house for his more recent breeding experiment.
His father's reputation meant that his services were still in demand. But the dogs Jesse's dad had employed had proven incapable of saving him. His father had been killed by a mysterious animal, in the Highlands of Scotland and thousands of miles away. Jesse had made it his mission to breed a hunting dog not just capable of tracking a big cat, but taking it on, either alone or by working in a pack. His animals were now second generation, but he wasn't ready, and neither were they. For now, it was just him.
He swung his legs over the fence and landed with a thud, breaking an ice-laced puddle as he did. He began the long, slow march towards the upper meadows. He swung the shotgun from left to right as he went. Despite his experience as a hunter, he realised he had been holding his breath when he reached the next fence. He let out a stalled, ragged gasp as he listened to the elevated thump of his heartbeat. Fear was taking hold.
A few moments later, it was replaced by anger and shock. The six Simmental heifers he'd put in the top pasture were still there, but there was something very wrong. As his breath left his mouth in visible puffs of water vapour, he noticed no such exhalations came from the cows. Each lay on their sides, some with their rear legs splayed and sticking up in the air. He could smell the blood in the air and he knew they were all dead. He approached the nearest to him slowly and steadily. His eyes flitted to the treeline, now much closer and ominous.
Seeing the six animals strewn around the meadow, seemingly ripped down together, he began to think he had been mistaken about the cat. Only dogs would kill so brazenly, fuelled by frenzy and excitement. But he couldn't understand why he hadn't heard anything. A wolf pack would have been in full voice as they hunted, constantly communicating. Coyotes, coy-wolfs or a pack of feral dogs would have been even louder and haphazard in their attack. For a moment, the thought that this was some kind of retaliation for speaking out against predator hunting crossed his mind. But he soon dismissed it when he saw the savagery up close.
As he examined the carcass, any thought of it being dogs or wolves also vanished from his mind. The precision and neatness of the kill affirmed his suspicions. It was undoubtedly a cat. The heifer had been opened along its stomach. The blood loss had been so instant and dramatic it had poured onto the ground like rain. The ribs had been snipped through as if by shears, leaving a neat line of cut-through bone. Splinters and shards around the carcass indicated the ribs had also been broken open to extract the fatty marrow. The heart and liver had been removed, and presumably devoured. It was only when he got to the head that he discovered something that surprised him.
The heifer's throat had been ripped out completely. A gaping hole, marked by shredded clumps of fur and flesh at its edges, was all that remained. The cow's eyes had rolled over into the back of its skull. They were lifeless and frosted over. He couldn't tell if it was due to the temperature or the first signs of rigor mortis. He shuddered, but it wasn't the cold that made him do so. It was the enormous paw print, etched into the frozen lake of blood. It had to be at least six inches wide, and even more in length. He'd never seen anything like it.
Hell, African lions don't get that big, let alone cougars, he thought.
He examined the five remaining cows, finding the same results. Then he headed for the top pasture. He was surprised to find the bull standing there, in the middle of the field. It let out strained, icy blasts of breath from its nostrils. Jesse had named the bull Fabian, hinting at its German ancestry. He had often considered 'Ferdinand', like the cartoon character, would have been more appropriate, given the animal's placid and affectionate nature.
As Jesse appeared at the gate, Fabian began to trundle towards him. But immediately, he saw the bull was in trouble. It veered from side to side, unsteady on its feet. It let out a distraught bellow as it tripped and hit the ground. Jesse was up and over the gate and running to the bull's side before it was down.
Fabian lay where he had fallen but held his head up as Jesse came close.
"Easy big fella," Jesse exclaimed, patting the bull on his neck and shoulder.
The source of the animal's distress was obvious. A set of deep claw slashes, starting at the hock of his front left leg and ending on his rump were bleeding freely. The animal was weak and exhausted. Jesse tried to comfort the animal, eyeing the treeline again. As his gaze settled on a patch of darkness between the firs, he thought he glimpsed something. Two green spots of glowing light. As he watched, they would slowly blink in and out of visibility. Finally, they faded away into nothing. He shuddered again, realising they had been the eyes of the predator, reflecting the moonlight.
He backed his way through the pastures, never fully turning around or shifting his line of sight from the trees. The cows in the bottom field watched him all the way to the ranch house. He closed the front door behind him and locked it, noticing the shake in his hands as he did so. He went into the office and picked up the phone. He flipped through the old-fashioned rolodex on the desk and found the number for the veterinarian, a woman named Walke, who like his cows, also had German ancestry. He took out the card, looking at it and turning it over in his fingers as the line rang.
After apologising and explaining the situation to a sleepy Anabel Walke, Jesse went to put the card back in his father's rolodex. He paused, staring at the next card in the slot behind. He picked it out and lay it on the desk. He reached for the phone again, glancing quickly at the clock. It was a little after three in the morning. He didn't know how far ahead Scotland was, but he didn't hesitate to dial the number. He hadn't spoken to Thomas Walker in five years, but something in his gut told him it was time to talk.
Posted in Books, Chapters, Characters, Creature, Indie Authors, Indie Books, Self PublishingTagged Big Cats book series first chapter Horror horror writing preview chapter ranch life Sneek peek wyoming3 Comments
The Daughters of the Darkness – Pre-order Now!
Posted on June 22, 2017 June 22, 2017 by Luke Phillips
So, after over two years of waiting (and working hard at the writing desk in my case), I am very pleased to announce that The Daughters of the Darkness is now available to pre-order on Amazon. You can find the details here.
For the moment, only the eBook is available to pre-order, but I am hoping to be able too add the paperback by the weekend, after some formatting issues have been resolved.
It's also a great time to catch up with the first book in the series – Shadow Beast. As a celebration of the release of Daughters, I'm currently offering it as a free download until Monday. You can get your free copy here, if you haven't yet had the chance to meet Thomas, Catherine, and of course, the beast.
There'll be lots more exciting news and updates in the next few days and weeks, but for now, head to Amazon and pre-order your copy of The Daughters of the Darkness today. Content will be delivered automatically to you on Monday.
And one last thing. Thank you. Thank you for reading my books, keeping me going, and for supporting an independent author.
Oh, and one more last thing. Reviews are really important, so please, if you have the time, remember to leave an honest review of what you think. It's greatly appreciated, and helps get the books even greater levels of exposure. After all, the more books that go out – the quicker I have to write the sequel!
Posted in Books, Characters, Events, Indie Authors, Indie Books, The Daughters of the DarknessTagged Book Launch Cryptid Fiction Free eBook Horror Indie Authors Indie Books Kindle Unlimited Man-eaters Monsters Pre-order Readers Reviews Self Publishing Shadow Beast The Ghost and The Darkness Writing ProcessLeave a comment
The Daughters of the Darkness – a villain's tale
Posted on May 9, 2017 by Luke Phillips
With the release of The Daughters of the Darkness now only weeks away, it's time to introduce you to one of the key new characters, Kanu Sultan.
Kanu Sultan stepped out into the courtyard of his compound. The sun was all but gone and he let the warmth of the last few rays linger on his skin as night crept slowly from the east. He had chosen his new home well; a dense marshland nestled between the three national parks of Tsavo East, Tsavo West and Chyulu Hills. Several other smaller wildlife conservancies were on his doorstep but like the one he now occupied, they had been abandoned following his arrival in the territory. It was a hunter's paradise, benefiting from the movement of animals between the parks and being close to water. At thirteen miles to the nearest road, the remote location gave him privacy and security but was still central enough for him to have a wide influence over much of the area. Roughly equal distance from his native Mombasa to the east and the more tourist-friendly Nairobi to the west, much of southern Kenya was within his reach, as was the border of Tanzania.
Kanu walked past one of his men, a former Kenyan Army Paratrooper who remained statuesque at his post as he went by. Kanu hand-picked most of his men from either the paratroopers or the Presidential Escort Regiment, Kenya's best. He also made up their number with some local Maasai, and he paid all of them well. Although relatively small, the force was elite enough to make his reputation formidable and kept his activities safe from government interference. Out here, he was the authority. And it was that authority he was about to exercise now.
At the far left corner of the courtyard he turned, making his way down a flight of stone steps that led to a makeshift prison block. Weeks before, it had held expensive wines and brandies for the paying guests of the game lodge, now serving as his personal quarters. He walked down the dimly lit corridor to the end cell, the only one occupied. He stared in, the flash of his white teeth against his dark face alerting the dishevelled man on the other side of the iron bars to his presence.
"I respect a man who takes risks in business," said Kanu. "It's why I asked you, with respect, to go elsewhere. Unfortunately, like most Afrikaans, your greed and disrespect have brought an end to your good fortune."
"Stepped on your toes did I, kaffa?" the man leered, easing himself up onto his feet from the floor, using the wall to support his weight.
Kanu stiffened slightly at the insult, glancing down the corridor as he heard the hurried footsteps of one of his men. His eyes told the young Maasai to stop where he was, only momentarily glancing at the sack the warrior held out in front of him, its heavily twisted top held firmly between both hands.
"Racism is born of fear Mr. Van Zyl, and fear is natural when facing death. Did you know the kingdom of Kaffa was once a state of what is now Ethiopia? Its first capital was named Bonga, as was the district around it. It was one of the prime trade routes for slaves, which is why both Kaffa and the term Bonga Bonga land came to be used by the whites in such a derogatory way. It was where the slaves came from."
"Getting back at the whites is it then?" Van Zyl sneered. "Bit late don't you think?"
"Hardly. You are a dealer of drugs. Instead of plying your trade to wealthy visitors in Nairobi as I suggested, you targeted the poor and vulnerable on the streets of Mombasa. The same streets where I grew up and watched men like you destroy whole families and neighbourhoods. You did not do as I asked Mr. Van Zyl, and that situation demands nothing short of my full attention," Kanu replied.
"You're a fucking hypocrite Kanu. You're a dealer too. Admit it, this is about shutting out the competition," sneered Van Zyl.
Kanu stepped closer to the bars, his eyes fixed on his captive.
"I don't mind you selling drugs Mr. Van Zyl," he said in barely a whisper. "But I do mind who to. And you are wrong, I am not a dealer like you, I am a trafficker. I organise, sell and allow safe passage of product, be it arms or narcotics, through the territory. What I don't allow is for those items to be used against my people. There are plenty of opportunities outside of Kenya, and even a few within its borders. You were urged to explore them. Now you must face the consequences of not doing so."
Kanu carefully stepped back, taking a large iron key from his pocket. Van Zyl watched him as he slowly placed it in the lock of the door and turned it. As a heavy sounding clunk signalled the release of the door, Van Zyl shot forwards and pulled it open as he attempted to dart between the two men in his way. Kanu was ready for him, pouncing forward and punching him in the chest with both fists, his forearms straight as spears. Van Zyl was knocked head over heels backwards. He crumpled onto the floor by the back wall.
Before Van Zyl could get up, Kanu quickly took the sack from the Maasai. In one flowing movement, he took the corner in one hand and pinched the top open in the other as he upended it and flung it forward. Van Zyl screamed as an enraged snake leapt towards him, its open mouth and two inch long fangs all he saw before he instinctively raised his arms to shield his face. He was surprised at the heavy impact he felt as the snake hit him. He panicked and threw the snake aside, but not before its teeth sank into the bicep of his right arm. The snake hit the floor with a thud and immediately made for the darkness underneath the cot bed. Once there, it coiled and lay with its eyes fixed on Van Zyl. It made no noise, but its forked tongue tasted the air every few seconds.
"My apologies for the theatrics Mr. Van Zyl," Kanu said. "The gaboon viper has to be somewhat provoked into delivering an envenomed bite. They're actually quite docile. But I find them hard to resist being the largest of their kind. The fellow who just bit you weighs 20lbs."
Van Zyl spat. His mouth tasted dry and his tongue felt heavy and swollen.
"Not exactly common in this part of Kenya, people might get suspicious don't you think?" he said, beginning to feel slightly faint.
Kanu smiled. "Oh we're not quite finished yet Mr. Van Zyl. When you're found, I doubt they'll think to check for a snake bite. I just needed to slow you down."
Kanu nodded to the Maasai, who had been joined by another of his men. They both stepped into the cell and picked up Van Zyl, dragging him out and back along the hall towards the stairs. Kanu slipped into the empty room behind them and picked up the snake with ease by the tail. It sought out the open sack as soon as he offered it, and he knotted the top as he walked out. At the top of the stairs, he handed the Maasai the sack.
Van Zyl was thrown across the flatbed of a large green Toyota Land Cruiser truck. Kanu climbed into the open back with him. He looked the man over as the truck pulled off, passing quickly through a large archway made up of the black volcanic stone of the region. The truck ploughed forward into the African night.
Kanu smiled down at the pale sweat strewn face that looked back up at him from the bed of the truck, the eyes bulging and bloodshot.
"I would have allowed you a slightly more luxurious last ride Mr. Van Zyl. I personally would have preferred the air conditioning. But your body is no longer in control, and I couldn't have you shitting and pissing yourself over my leather seats," Kanu explained.
He brushed aside the dying man's shirt. The welted, swollen purple flesh of his shoulder and neck were already beginning to blister. The man could no longer talk from his enlarged tongue. Soon his eyelids would also be too heavy to keep open. Kanu knew the man's pulse would be racing and slowing with complete irregularity. If simply left, his death could still take up to an hour. He looked up and began to peer into the darkness.
After driving for nearly thirty minutes, Kanu finally thumped on the cabin roof of the old Land Cruiser, giving the signal to stop. The driver pulled over into the long tussock grass.
"My pets are close Mr. Van Zyl, you will not suffer much longer," Kanu laughed, towering over him.
Van Zyl barely felt the rough grasp of the two men who picked him out of the flatbed and threw him to the ground. The impact of the dry, rock strewn earth on his blistered and swollen flesh sent a wave of agonising pain through his body. He continued to writhe and struggle as he heard the truck pull away, but he no longer had the strength to stand. The sound of the engine dulled, faded and then disappeared altogether.
He lay stricken. His arms and chest felt like they were on fire, and his skin felt tight, like it was too small for him. With great effort he opened his bruised and tumid eyelids and gazed at his hand. His arm had ballooned. Its purple and yellow colouring was punctured by burst cracks that streamed with thin, cherry red blood. He knew he would not stop bleeding now. He closed his eyes, knowing he would not be able to open them again. He gagged and choked on the froth filling his throat, turning his head to the side to try and vent it. His strength left him and he waited for death. Just as his thoughts threatened to fade, a sound piercing the night stabbed him with a momentary surge of adrenalin and renewed panic.
The diabolical laughter crept closer on swift, padded feet. It made the animal sound nervous, but it was a sign of pure confidence. Van Zyl convulsed involuntarily as the hyena sniffed at his head. The animal let out a yip of excitement, leaning in closer to lick the man's forehead and scalp.
Another sound penetrated the night. A low, deep rumble of warning. The hyena gave a scream of fright, only pausing to snap off one of Van Zyl's ears as it loped away. Blind and half deaf, his body shutting down in shock as his flesh was putrefied by the snake venom, Van Zyl still had time to sense the presence of the large heavy animal as it came closer. The press of its paw on his chest was the last thing he felt as he slipped into unconsciousness. Moments later, a pair of five and a half inch fangs smashed through his temples.
She dragged the body further into the grass, seeking the cover of scrub and thorn. Deep in a thicket, she lifted her head and let out a thunderous roar, calling in the rest of the pride. She listened to them slink closer as she began to feast on the body.
A breath of wind carried the whisper of the roar to Kanu's ears as the truck rolled through the night back towards the compound. He smiled.
Posted in Books, Chapters, Characters, Creature, Indie Authors, Indie Books, Self Publishing, The Daughters of the DarknessTagged Indie Books Indie Writers Man-eaters Self Publishing Short Stories The Ghost and The Darkness The Tsavo Man-eatersLeave a comment
The Daughters of the Darkness – Prologue
Posted on November 6, 2015 November 6, 2015 by Luke Phillips
As I edge past the 74,000 word mark on the upcoming sequel to Shadow Beast, it is becoming clear that unfortunately, despite my best efforts, The Daughters of the Darkness may well not hit the shelves before Christmas as planned. The one thing I definitely learnt though in launching Shadow Beast was not to rush. I will continue working away, editing, proofing and amending until things are ready to go. Please bear with me, it won't be much longer I promise!
In the meantime, travel back with me seven years to Tsavo, Kenya, the historic home of the infamous man-eaters known as The Ghost and The Darkness.
If you haven't read Shadow Beast, there are no real spoilers here apart from the historical event from Thomas Walker's past it depicts, which I don't think will upset the story for you a great deal. Hopefully it will leave you thirsty for more! But for now, in relatively raw form, may I present the prologue to The Daughters of the Darkness.
TSAVO, KENYA, EAST AFRICA – SEVEN YEARS AGO
Amanda Walker woke with a start, sitting up in her sleeping bag and instinctively reaching for the Gurkha Kukri blade she always kept under her pillow. For a few seconds she sat completely still, trying to ascertain what had woken her. Her first thought was that a snake had decided to curl up in or near the sleeping bag. It wouldn't be the first time. When she couldn't detect any movement, she relaxed a little and began to listen.
The door of the canvas tent was still tied shut. There was a soft breeze and she could hear the song of crickets carried on it. Then she heard it. Soft murmurs, coming from outside. She looked over at her husband Thomas. Even in his slumber he looked exhausted. She turned up the collar of his shirt to cover the insect bites on his neck. He had fallen asleep in his clothes almost as soon as he had returned from the day of tracking. She smiled to herself and affectionately ran her fingers through his hair. She decided to let him sleep. She could sense it was still dark outside and he had another long day ahead of him. They had heard the man-eaters calling close to the camp during the day.
She pulled the mosquito net up and crawled to the door flap of the tent. She undid the top tie whilst yawning silently and peered out. She could see the camp's outbuildings across the way, but no lights were on in the windows. Nothing seemed to be stirring. Then she heard the murmur again. Standing on the veranda of one of the buildings was a little boy. His skin was incredibly dark, showing up the blue and mauve tones of the night sky above him. He was completely naked and held his hand over his mouth. He seemed to be crying.
As Amanda undid the tent flap completely, the boy immediately noticed her. As she watched him streak out of the camp, she realised straight away he wasn't one of the children that lived with the hired help and staff. He moved with absolute silence, his feet hardly touching the bare earth as he ran. The moon was full and cast a bathing light onto the day scorched ground. Amanda couldn't help her curiosity and stepped out of the tent, taking a few steps in the direction the boy was headed. She hesitated. She knew Thomas would be angry if he knew she had left the tent during the night. All the better reason to let him sleep she decided.
She had also fallen asleep in her clothes, sporting nothing more than a khaki vest top and a pair of bush shorts. She began to follow the little boy. The red dust began to stick to her bare feet and the ground was still warm from the baking heat of the day. She crossed the road that led into the camp and stood for a moment as she looked out over the long grass that stretched out in front of her. Thomas really would be angry at the thought of her going into the grass without a gun or an escort. But she could see the path the boy had taken and now she was growing concerned. She had already imagined the possibility the boy was from a local village, where maybe the man-eaters had attacked. What if he came for help? Amanda thought. She pushed on into the long grass.
She moved carefully and quietly, pushing the brush aside and listening intently with every step. She could barely see over the top, so instead she crouched and followed the path the boy had made, peering ahead.
"Kito," she whispered softly, "kito?"
The Swahili word was often used affectionately by mothers to children. The literal translation meant 'precious one'. Amanda had considered the boy was so young that he may never have met a white person, and her appearance may have startled him. If he heard her speaking softly and in Swahili, he might stop running.
The moon was directly above her, making her long blonde hair look silver in the strange light. Somehow it made her feel alone and exposed, and she shivered with the cold she suddenly felt. Instinct overrode her and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she reached the abrupt end of the trail. The boy had seemingly disappeared into thin air. The tall grass ahead of her swayed silently in the wind, moving back and forth as if caught in the breath of some invisible giant beast. She crouched, spinning on her heels to face the direction she had come from. She began to tremble as she closed her eyes and listened as the crickets stopped singing one by one until there was silence.
For a moment, she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She gritted her teeth and blinked, peering out into the grass around her. At first, she didn't see anything. Then a pair of amber eyes flashed somewhere in the black undergrowth, then another. More eyes, like burning coals in the darkness, appeared over to her left. Even in her fear, she was amazed at the pride's ability to work together in silence and in the gloom. She could feel them closing in on her. She estimated them to be no more than twenty yards away and they were obviously hunting. She was in no doubt what, or rather who, the prey was.
She decided she had only one chance. The camp was three hundred yards ahead of her, beyond the long grass and across the road. She leapt upwards, her bare feet tearing into the ground violently as she sprinted through the grass. The greenery around her seemed to ripple with tawny coloured flashes of flesh. The lions began to call to each other quietly, emitting little coughs and grunts that came from both sides. She knew they were verging in on her, attracted by her flight and the noise she made as she ran. Her muscles burned as she willed herself faster.
She could now see the road and she felt a momentary swell of relief. She was going to make it. She knew the lions would at least hesitate before they broke cover, giving her the few seconds she needed to make it into the camp. She decided anyhow that she was close enough to start screaming and raise the alarm. She opened her mouth just as the silhouette passed in front of her. She found herself suddenly stunned and winded as she was knocked to the ground. A large, pale coloured paw pushed her face into the dust, stifling the scream that waited to burst from her lungs. It had been the perfect ambush. The big female had always been behind her, waiting for the rest of the pride to drive Amanda into her waiting jaws.
The animal snarled at the unwelcome human scent of the still squirming prey. It opened its mouth wide and bit deep into the back of Amanda's neck. She kicked out a few times in her violent death throws as she asphyxiated, then her body went limp as her windpipe was crushed and the nerves at the top of the spinal cord were cut off. As the big female began to feed, the other members of the pride drew close, waiting their turn to feast.
Shadow Beast is out now in paperback and on Kindle.
Posted in Books, Chapters, Horror, Indie Books, Shadow Beast, The Daughters of the DarknessTagged #AmWriting East Africa Kenya Man-eaters Swahili The Ghost and The Darkness Tsavo23 Comments
Indie Roar
Posted on June 9, 2015 June 10, 2015 by Luke Phillips
As the author of a book named Shadow Beast with a marauding big cat at its heart, I couldn't really resist the ten day 'Indie Roar' challenge set by The Notebook Blogairy. Today's challenge (Day 9) is to champion five favourite independently published books. Although I am still relatively new to both independent publishing and reading, I can already thoroughly recommend it. You will find stories you never knew were out there, and writing as good as anywhere. The true strength of the indie writer is being able to write what they want – so there are no limits. Whatever you are looking for, its almost certainly out there. And if it isn't…maybe you should write it! These guys did!
1. Dead Men Should Know Better by Dominic Canty
This is the debut novel of my friend Dominic Canty, and as a truly rip-roaring read, it thoroughly deserves its place on this list. The narrative follows Bristo Trabant, a geek from MI6's IT department, as he is catapulted into the world of international espionage, armed only with the trusty 'Beginner's Guide to being a Secret Agent' for comfort.
Along the way we meet talking sharks, life-saving water pistols and encounter funny takes on the cliched staples of deadly card games and car chases.
Although not widely available at the moment, it's worth tracking down and waiting for. Book two is currently being researched and written as we speak! You can find out more about Dominic and the book here.
http://www.dominiccanty.com
2. The Miryan Heir: Journey of the Marked by Rebecca P. McCray
This is my current read, but I am already hooked! This brilliant Young Adult fantasy boasts wonderfully colourful characters, all with their own intriguing back story and background. As they and the rest of the story comes together, you realise you are on a blade and ray-gun wielding thrill ride.
The visual depictions alone would make this a wonderful mini-series or movie. The vivid accounts of the different alien races, the blue, werewolf-like graelith henchmen and the even darker villains are all too easily etched into the imagination with each turn of the page.
Again, book two is on its way. You can find out more about Rebecca and the book here.
http://www.rebeccamccray.com
3. Rogue Justice by William Neal
I discovered this book after watching the moving documentary Blackfish. Neal unashamedly put the positive campaigning of the Blackfish brigade to good use, and was clearly inspired by a love of the ocean and its creatures.
Invoking native American legends, up to date scientific research and delivering a real sense of just desserts on the corporate bad guys, it is the embodiment of wish fulfillment for many animal advocates.
As an author who also picked a fiery, green-eyed redhead for his heroine, I can say I genuinely enjoyed this ocean going, legend seeking adventure.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ANY2C7W
4. Cryptid by Eric Penz
This book is vividly written, with gripping narratives and characters alike. It is well named too, as it explores the legend behind what is arguably the world's most notorious cryptid, or as-yet-undiscovered creature. Penz has clearly done his research, and as somebody with a similarly themed story up his sleeve, I am glad to say the direction he takes the story is new and refreshing, and luckily different from what I have planned!
We find strong female characters, conspiracy and of course a cryptid in the new author's edition of the book. Another great read!
Find out more about Eric and the book here
http://www.ericpenz.com/cryptid
5. Menagerie by E. Stuart Marlowe
This tale again centres on cryptids, but this time they are even more fantastical than our legends. As we track down the terrifying creatures through the eyes of a tracker and hunter building the world's strangest zoo, dealing with problem creatures all over the world, we also encounter activism and good intentions that spell disaster for a small town that really harbours monsters.
I really loved this book, my only gripe being that with the world of cryptozoology so rich in imaginative inspiration, I would have loved to read about some of the great monsters of myth rather than the fictional fantasies here. But at the end of the day, the monsters are no less real or scary!
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00JUEWAS2
And okay, last but not least, I have to mention my own book. I am really proud of Shadow Beast. It represents years of hard work, and good and bad times gotten through whilst I wrote it. I am humbled and chuffed by the lovely reviews it is getting and the success it is having. I have fabulous support from friends and family, who have been there from the beginning. But I have also had amazing support from a huge community of independent authors like those above who have helped promote and praise the book further. And this is what Indie Roar is all about, championing the amazing efforts of indie authors everywhere! So if you have a book in you, join us. If you want to read 'off the reservation' then find us. Either way, you won't be disappointed!
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Luke-Phillips/e/B00QDY7RXA
Posted in Books, Indie Authors, Indie BooksTagged Cryptid Dead Men Should Know Better Dominic Canty Eric Penz Indie Authors Indie Books Indie Roar Menagerie Rebbeca McCray Rogue Justice Shadow Beast The Miryan Heir The Notebook Blogairy William NealLeave a comment


text:
Gowser's decision to stay at Saints could be seen as a gamble
St Mirren supporters were given a major boost earlier this week when Paul McGowan agreed to stay with the Paisley club for another year – but I reckon he has taken a real gamble with his career by making that decision.
Don't get me wrong, I share the delight of Saints fans that Gowser is staying and we will be able to appreciate his skills again next season.
However, when the English Championship comes calling, it is hard to knock back that sort of opportunity.
Being a professional footballer is a short career and, when the chance to move up the ladder comes along, it's wise to grab it with both hands.
I'm sure Paul had to think long and hard before agreeing to sign on at Saints for another year.
However, the fact that St Mirren manager Danny Lennon was quoted as saying Paul had promised he wouldn't sign for another Scottish club is a positive sign.
It shows the player has enjoyed his time in Paisley, where he has become a key member of the team.
These days, clubs in the English Premiership are far more likely to buy a player from the English Championship than from the SPL.
And, with that in mind, a move to a Championship club can open all sorts of doors to Scottish players a year or two further down the line.
Being a footballer in demand means you have to be prepared to up sticks and move wherever you need to go.
That is a fundamental part of a footballer's life.
However, Paul has made his decision and we must respect that.
I'm sure you won't hear any St Mirren fans complaining that he'll still be at the club next season!
There shouldn't be any complaints over the arrival of Gary Harkins either.
I reckon Gary is a great addition to the Saints squad.
I've watched him play a number of times and have been very impressed.
He can play in a number of attacking positions, which will give Danny those important goals from the middle of the park.
I'm sure that, over the coming weeks, we will see more additions to the Saints squad, particularly in the defensive areas.
For St Mirren to be challenging for a European place next season, they will need to have a solid defensive unit.
The SPL hasn't been this evenly-balanced for a long time – and every club outwith Celtic and Partick Thistle really should be aiming for a top six finish at the very least.
Scottish PremiershipAberdeen 0 Rangers 1 LIVE score as Gio van Bronckhorst demands more as hosts push again Rangers travel north looking to restore their six-point advantage at the top of the league table but the Dons are in form with four wins from their last five games.
Hearts 1 St Johnstone 0 LIVE score as Josh Ginnelly fires home the opener
Aberdeen 0 Rangers 1 LIVE score as Gio van Bronckhorst demands more as hosts push again
CourtsMan who grabbed thug's gun and blasted him in pub shootout cleared of attempted murderAlan Roberts, aged 29, was cleared of attempted murder but was found guilty of wounding with intent.
North Lanarkshire libraries launch 2022 Read Well NL Challenge
LanarkshireIt is hoped the challenge can help residents focus on their wellbeing through reading
Janey Godley reunion with dog after cancer surgery leaves fans in tears
CancerJaney returned home to her little dog Honey who gave her a warm welcome.
Holiday Inn bosses apologise after 'disgusted' man finds 'soiled knickers' in hotel room
TourismIHG, parent company of the Holiday Inn Express brand of budget hotels, has admitted that a "lapse in standards" led to a pair of underwear going undetected.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


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American Airlines Flight Collides With Fuel Truck at LaGuardia Airport
Jordan Allen
An American Airlines flight was struck by a fuel truck while taxing at LaGuardia Airport (LGA). The collision took place at 6:51am in LGA's Terminal B. The flight, Flight 1249, was scheduled to depart for Miami Airport (MIA) at 5:55am.
There were no injuries among the 172 passengers and six crew members aboard the aircraft. "A fuel truck made contact with the winglet of an aircraft that was still at the gate," American Airlines told Fox News. "We moved passengers to a different aircraft as our maintenance team evaluates/fixes the damage."
Fuel truck apparently hits plane at LaGuardia https://t.co/rIOCdKghNh pic.twitter.com/SHR101cjs8
— Eyewitness News (@ABC7NY) October 26, 2018
Passengers aboard Flight 1249 were able to depart for Miami on a different plane, however, the winglet of flight 1249 is still under crew repair.
Featured image by EVA HAMBACH/AFP/Getty Images
TPG VIDEO:
Jordan Allen is TPG's General Assignment Reporter. She produces content about nearly everything from the newest travel trends to the latest flight deals.


text:
If You Had One Shot (or Game or Season or Series … )
You've probably heard of situational players. But which NBA superstars would you choose for these four critical situations?
By The Ringer Staff Mar 20, 2018, 6:10am EDT
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Getty Images/Ringer illustration
If you had to choose one current NBA player to take one shot, who would you pick? What about to play in just one game? One season? One series? We asked our NBA staff to make a pick for each, with one catch: You can't choose the same player twice.
Jason Concepcion: There are many flavors of last shot. After-the-timeout action in the half court. Pull-up jumper in transition. Drive-and-kick to the shooter with his feet set. Mano a mano hero-ball dribble drive against a double-team. I choose Kevin Durant because The Servant can serve them all. At 7 feet with a deft handle and ICBM range, he can see over most defenders, drive past the ones he can't, and let it fly from anywhere he wants. Durant is currently putting up a historically good shooting line—52 percent from the field, 43 percent from 3, 88 percent from the line.
Just look at his clutch stats this season. He's shooting 60 percent on 42 attempts in the last five minutes with the game on the line and 53 percent from 3. And he's done it from everywhere on the floor and in every way—long-range bombs, midrange dribble drives, Dirkian elbow fadeaways, layups, and on and on.
Game on the line? Just let KD cook. I like the odds.
Shea Serrano: Let's say the Spurs are in the NBA Finals, and let's also say that it's Game 7, and let's also say that they're playing on the road, and let's also say that the score is 101-99, and let's also say that there are 14 seconds left, and let's also say that the Spurs are in possession of the ball, and let's also say that they have just used their final timeout, and let's also say that we're playing against a suddenly unstoppable Cavs team, and let's also say that in addition to the title being at stake my life is (somehow) also at stake. If we take all of those things to be true, then I want Steph Curry taking the shot. He is smart enough, good enough, deadly enough, fearless enough for me to feel like I have a better than average chance at being alive at the end of that possession.
Danny Chau: Durant. My heart and mind have been prepared for this answer since the final seconds of Game 3 in last year's Finals.
His go-ahead pull-up 3 right over LeBron's outstretched arms to steal a victory from what was a near-perfect Cavaliers effort was iconic. The gravity of the moment, the symbolism of the two best players in the game brought together in a single frame, the unique talents that Durant can leverage over every player in the NBA—it all culminated in a perfect late-game shot. The league's finest guards will likely figure heavily in this answer: Kyrie, Steph, Dame, Harden—all reliable options. But give me the player who has a standing reach of 9-foot-2 who can ably shoot from anywhere on the floor without any chance of getting his shot blocked.
John Gonzalez: Markelle Fultz. He's totally "made progress," you guys.
Justin Verrier: Sorry to be that guy, but if you're asking me whom I want to give the ball to in order to create the best last shot, it's Chris Paul. CP's expert game managing was pointed to as the model alternative to hero ball seven years ago, when cracks first started to form in the veneer of Kobe as a crunch-time killer, and Paul is still every bit the cutthroat executive on the floor at age 32. He currently leads the entire NBA in real plus-minus and is third in net rating among regulars. But if we're narrowing it down to the player who is actually pulling the trigger, give me Curry, who is literally the most likely non-center to make a shot, of any kind, in NBA history.
Haley O'Shaughnessy: James Harden's reputation in crucial playoff games is iffy at best, Stephen A. Smith–wondering-whether-he-was-drugged at worst. His meltdown in Game 6 against the Spurs last postseason was throwing up mom's spaghetti on the NBA's largest stage. But I'm not asking him to play a game, or a quarter, or even five minutes. One shot is all we need, and I'll take it from the man tied with Kemba Walker for the most 3s made this season. Harden is a solid bet inside, too: Over half of the shots he takes on drives to the rim are successful, and almost a quarter result in a foul call.
Jonathan Tjarks: Durant. He's an elite shooter and ball handler. He is also 7 feet tall, so he can always get a clean look at the basket.
Paolo Uggetti: Durant. Here's a riddle: If Kevin Durant, all 7 feet of him and his even longer wingspan, decides to pull up from any location on the floor, who is blocking his shot? Someone taller like Joel Embiid? Durant's too quick. Someone quicker like Kawhi Leonard? Durant's too tall. KD is a conundrum for defenses everywhere. It's not just that his stroke is velvet smooth; his whole procedure—setting his feet then jumping and shooting faster than the bench can say "shot"—is so polished it looks effortless. I wouldn't want anyone else with the ball when the game comes down to one possession.
Troy Wayrynen-USA TODAY Sports
One Game
O'Shaughnessy: Dame Time, so far, has struck midnight at the Western Conference semifinals. But for a single game, especially this season, I'm picking Lillard. (And in all honesty, all he needs is a quarter.) The Blazers guard has consistently finished seasons among the top fourth-quarter scorers, and he led them all in that category in 2014-15. Also, his nickname is Big Game Dame. Case closed.
Chau: Harden. There are players who are capable of more visually explosive performances at their peak, but no player embodies the flow state, in all senses of the term, quite like the Beard. There are 20 players in NBA history who have recorded a 40-point triple-double; there are only four who have logged a triple-double scoring 50. Harden stands alone with the only 60-point triple-double. In the triple-double wars of 2017, Russell Westbrook's control over his lackluster roster was pushed far past its limits. Under Mike D'Antoni, it can feel as though there is no limit to the vastness of Harden's offensive reign. At his best, Harden forces his surroundings to bend to his whim, his speed, his purpose. It's an experience unlike any other in the NBA.
Concepcion: My One-Shot choice is based, in part, on numbers and video evidence. This choice is just a feeling I have in my guts that even at 33 years old and after 15 years in the league, when LeBron James needs to call down the lightning, the lightning obeys. Yes, the Cavaliers are abject defensively. Yes, they're currently the 3-seed and could slip lower. And, yes, like Keith Richards having all of his blood replaced, the Cavs had to swap basically all of their rotation players for fresh bodies in order to maintain their season (and placate James).
In the early days of this season, the Cavaliers needed a win like Aloe Blacc needed a dollar. (Clearly, things have not changed all that much.) The Cavs were coming off a four-game skid to the Nets, Pelicans, Knicks, and Pacers. A team meeting had already been held. Throughout the losing and porous defense, James had maintained a kind of seasonal nonchalance. "It's October," he said. Then came November and that 124-107 headlock by the Pacers before anyone understood that the Pacers were, indeed, good. The next night, against the Wizards, LeBron held Mjölnir aloft and summoned 57 points, 11 rebounds, seven assists, three steals, two blocks, and the win, that needed win.
Serrano: It feels like it's cheating to just pick superstars for all of these, so let me lean the other way for this one: If I could pick one player in the NBA to play on the Spurs for just one game, then I want Zaza Pachulia, because that way Gregg Popovich can shove him down a flight of stairs in the back of the stadium when no one is around.
Verrier: LeBron. The toughest part of this whole exercise is where to slot James. He has more regular-season MVPs than any active player and is currently on pace to play all 82 games this season, at age 33. He also has more Finals MVPs than any active player, too. But this spot feels right, because the evidence is simply overwhelming: In Game 7, against the best regular-season team ever, he put up a triple-double and made one of the greatest plays in history. In other words, he almost single-handedly won the most important game in recent memory. What is there to argue?
Tjarks: Anthony Davis. There's no real way to game plan for Davis. He's so long, athletic, and skilled that he gives you a chance against anyone in a one-game scenario.
Uggetti: Curry. No one can go from zero to 100 faster than Steph. He could go 0-for-10 in the first half of a game and come out after halftime to set the third quarter on fire. Nothing is outside the realm of possibility because we've never seen a player like him. He, quite literally, changes how any given game is played on any night by merely stepping onto the court. It's like walking into geometry class only to find a calculus problem on the board.
Gonzalez: I'm using LeBron for the one-series question, so I'll take the second-best player on the planet for this one. Durant is an offensive marvel and an underappreciated monster on defense, but this is all we really need to consider about the man in terms of his one-game services: He suffered an incomplete rib fracture against the Timberwolves that should keep him out about two weeks. (In the interim, please don't make him laugh.) Before the injury was diagnosed, he said it felt "irritated and weak" but played against the Lakers anyway. He had 26 points (10-of-19 from the field, 5-of-5 from the line), six assists, five rebounds, one steal, and one block in a win over Los Angeles. It was just an OK game by his standards, but he did it with a broken rib. Imagine what he could do in a single game with a full complement of ribs at his disposal.
Mark D. Smith-USA TODAY Sports
One Season
Gonzalez: I challenge you to find someone who's been more entertaining than Joel Embiid this season. In addition to playing 57 of 68 possible games—all those people who said he'd never even play half a season sure have been quiet lately—averaging a double-double and making his first All-Star team, no one in the league has had more fun than JoJo. Things he's done this season: run through the streets of Philadelphia while wearing his game shorts, play night tennis and call himself "the Black Roger Federer," point Andre Drummond to the exits, send Russell Westbrook into Witness Protection, make fun of Lonzo and LaVar (his location game on Instagram is unmatched), party with fans after the Eagles won the Super Bowl, and crash a local news broadcast. And those are just the ones I remembered off the top of my head while typing this. Tap that man's high jinks into my veins.
Serrano: Please can I just have Healthy Kawhi? Thank you.
Concepcion: Since Harden arrived in Houston, the Rockets have been among the league elite. Well, except for that one season when everyone hated each other and head coach Kevin McHale got fired 11 games in. That was mostly Dwight Howard's fault. (I'm basing that on mostly circumstantial evidence I like to call "Dwight Howard's entire career.") This season, the Rockets have the best record in the NBA and Harden is the hub around which the team revolves. For a superstar, Harden is remarkably easy to build around. Houston's tactics, strategy, and personnel are vertically integrated: Harden's game is predicated on 3-pointers and free throws; head coach Mike D'Antoni's four-out pick-and-roll system fits him like a glove; and general manager Daryl Morey has made a career of leveraging inefficiencies.
Could the Rockets, and Harden, flame out in the postseason? Of course. I mean, I almost expect them to. But if we're talking one season, give me Harden.
Chau: Embiid. We're talking a full, 82-game season, right? Like, he'd play for 82 games? Yes, give me Embiid for that.
Uggetti: Giannis Antetokounmpo. At 23 years old, Giannis is in a sweet spot of his NBA career. He's physically matured since he entered the league in 2013, but he still has the breathless—albeit sometimes erratic—energy of a rookie. The Greek Freak also has under 400 games on his odometer, so he doesn't have to worry about cryotherapy chambers, yoga, and custom mattresses to maximize sleep cycles yet. Combine that with the ability to create any shot he wants for himself on the court and that nearly no one can defend him, and you have yourself an athletically gifted machine who can play all 82 games in a season. It's both effective and ridiculously entertaining.
O'Shaughnessy: Durant is quietly clutch, which sounds odd for someone universally accepted as a top-three player. But no one on his level is less showy—perhaps because only LeBron James is on his level—and there is an argument that he's a better long-term difference-maker than James throughout an 82-game season. LeBron is less injury-prone (even at 33 years old!), but Durant is more willing to adjust his game to better a team, and doesn't have to do it all himself.
Tjarks: Steph Curry. He makes everyone so much better on offense, and he sets the tone in the locker room. The perfect guy to build a franchise around. He's also incredibly fun to watch, which is a nice bonus.
Verrier: Harden. There's probably a lot of recency bias at work here, but winning in the regular season is all about grinding out wins, Joey Knish–style, and there's no one better at manufacturing points out of nothing than Harden (as evidenced by his absolute mastery in isolation this season). Sunday's win in Minnesota—the Rockets' 22nd in their past 23 games, by the way—is the perfect example: When Houston's big lead dwindled to five in the fourth quarter, Harden scored nine of his 34 points (including four free throws) to provide the necessary breathing room.
Serrano: I think it depends on the series. If it's the first round of the playoffs, then give me James Harden, because I don't trust him in water that's even 1 inch deeper than that yet. If it's the second round, then I'd feel good and safe going with DeMar DeRozan, a player I've watched turn from Basketball John Wick in the second round to Basketball Nerf John Wick in the third round. If it's the third round, give me Giannis, because I've not seen him that far in the playoffs yet but I'm of the mind that he's going to be terrifying in that situation. And if it's the Finals, I think I'd like to have LeBron, because it's usually a good idea to have the guy who breaks all the records all the time on your team in the most meaningful moments.
Concepcion: The Warriors won their first title in nearly 40 years in 2015. In the two seasons since then, they've lost 10 total playoff games and played in two NBA Finals, winning one. Last postseason, Steph's Warriors went 16-1 in the postseason. And Steph is the engine that makes Golden State go. He's the greatest shooter anyone has ever seen and the only player to have taken more than 800 3s in a season. Solving for his influence on the floor is like trying to solve the Einstein Problem. Curry is the tesseract.
Sure, his shooting percentages are slightly down from his career numbers in the regular season. That makes sense. Teams can game plan against a single opponent in the postseason. And the increased threshold for physicality allows defenses to get aggressive in an attempt to wear Curry out over the course of seven games. Whatever. I'm riding the hot hand.
Tjarks: LeBron. He is probably the smartest and most versatile player in the league. He can change his game over the course of the series to give you exactly what you need in a given matchup.
Verrier: Anthony Davis has played in only four playoff games, three years ago, but he was a goddamn comet—against the eventual champions, no less—in that meager sample: 31.5 points, 11 rebounds, three blocks, two assists, 28.5 PER, 61.3 true shooting percentage. And now he has a 3-point shot and the bulk to play center full-time and play through the various minor injuries and uncalled fouls that have stalled his ascension. We're getting really, really close to being able to call Davis the best player in the NBA, full stop. I want that guy, regardless of experience.
Chau: LeBron. The league's best player has a supercomputer mind and has played in four playoff series in each of the past seven seasons—an unfathomable advantage in game data over every other player in the NBA. He knows exactly how the league has changed over the past five seasons. He is more attuned to the nuances of in-series adjustments than most head coaches. There is no player I trust more to recalibrate his role and rise to what he expects of himself.
Gonzalez: The obvious answer here is LeBron (who killed a man in Portland last week and got away with it). There's a reason he's taken his teams to seven straight NBA Finals. His playoff averages over that span are incredible: 28.0 points, 9.1 rebounds, 6.6 assists, 1.9 steals, and one block. He also played 41.4 minutes per game during that stretch, which is amazing because I can't believe anyone convinced him to check out of any playoff game long enough to average 6.6 minutes of rest. There's nothing like playoff LeBron.
Uggetti: If the playoff switch exists, then LeBron owns the patent. No one has elevated teammates to a level beyond the expected more than LeBron; as his entire career has proved, the equation of any series can change based on his presence alone. Give him one of the Cavs rosters from his first era with the team or this season's fluctuating group and it would still be difficult to pick against his team come playoff time. In the same way Gregg Popovich and the Spurs can seemingly turn anyone into a serviceable NBA player, LeBron can turn serviceable players into NBA champions.
O'Shaughnessy: LeBron. Did you watch the 2016 Finals?
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text:
You need [Python 3.6 or higher](https://www.python.org/) and [git](https://git-scm.com/). If they not already installed please make sure you install them. Also make sure that the python packet manager pip is installed aswell.

Note For POSIX users (including Mac OS X and Linux users), the examples in this guide assume the use of a virtual environment.
For Windows users, the examples in this guide assume that the option to adjust the system PATH environment variable was selected when installing Python.

### 1.1 Python dependencies
This software relies on [discord.py libary](https://github.com/Rapptz/discord.py) and therefore also on `asyncio`.

Therefore install both libaries with pip
```bash
python3 pip install discord.py
```
```bash
python3 pip install asyncio
```

## 2. Download this code
You can either click the download button on the github page or use git.
Git:
```bash
git clone https://github.com/callFEELD/logs.tf-discord-bot.git
```

## 3. Create a Discord Bot
(tutorial: https://github.com/callFEELD/logs.tf-discord-bot/wiki/Create-a-DiscordBOT)

## 4. Adding the discord token
Now you have to get your discord bot token and add it to the file `LogDiscordBot/cfg/token.json`. Here is a [guideline](https://github.com/callFEELD/logs.tf-discord-bot/wiki/insert-the-token-to-the-token.json-file) of how the token is added, if you don't know json.

## 5. Let the bot join your server
let the bot join your server [how to]( https://github.com/callFEELD/logs.tf-discord-bot/wiki/Let-the-Discord-Bot-join-your-server)

## 6. Run the bot
Either double click on the file `run.py` in the `LogDiscordBot` dir or use the command line:
```bash
python3 LogDiscordBot/run.py
```

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
Q: How to make a section without margin with the command "\exersize" like this:

\documentclass[12pt , a4paper]{report}
\usepackage[framemethod=TikZ]{mdframed}
\usepackage{xcolor}
\usepackage{titlesec}
\usepackage[top=3cm,bottom=3cm,left=2.2cm,right=6.2cm,marginparwidth=4.5cm,headsep=10pt,a4paper]{geometry}
\usepackage{titletoc}
\newcommand{\exersize}{\section*{exersize}}
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
\begin{document}

\chapter{Chapter one}

\section{Section 1}
\exersize

\end{document}

A: An example with a theorem like environment:
\documentclass[12pt,a4paper]{report}
\usepackage[framemethod=TikZ]{mdframed}
\usepackage{xcolor}
\usepackage[top=3cm,bottom=3cm,left=2.2cm,right=6.2cm,marginparwidth=4.5cm,headsep=10pt,a4paper]{geometry}
\usepackage{blindtext}

\newmdtheoremenv[%
  outerlinewidth=2,roundcorner=2pt,leftmargin=0,rightmargin=0,
  outerlinecolor=blue,innertopmargin=\topskip,splittopskip=\topskip,
]{exercise}{Exercise}%[section]

\begin{document}
\chapter{Chapter one}
\section{Section 1}

\begin{exercise}[optional argument]
foo bar baz
\end{exercise}

\begin{exercise}
\blindtext
\end{exercise}

\blindtext
\end{document}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
Austin Peay State University Baseball beats Milwaukee Panthers 5-4
Clarksville, TN – Austin Peay State University's baseball team picked up its first walk-off win, taking advantage of a pair of errors on the game's final play to post a 5-4 victory against Milwaukee, Saturday.
Starting pitcher Alex Robles went 7-plus innings and helped his own cause with 2 base hits in Saturday's win against Milwaukee. (Brittney Sparn/APSU Sports Information)
APSU Lady Govs Softball split games with Miami (Ohio) Redhawks
Austin Peay Sports Information
Oxford, OH – Laurel Burroughs second home run of the day was all the scoring that Austin Peay State University would need in the nightcap Saturday to earn a spilt with Miami (Ohio) University, as the Lady Govs defeated the RedHawks 1-0 after dropping the opener, 7-3.
APSU junior Laurel Burroughs blasts her second home run of the day in game 2 to propel Lady Govs to 1-0 win over Miami (Ohio) RedHawks Saturday.
Land Between the Lakes Wildlife Refuges Re-open
Golden Pond, KY – Land Between The Lakes (LBL) National Recreation Area will re-open Rushing Bay, Duncan Bay, Duncan Lake, Smith Bay, Fulton/Honker Bay, Honker Lake Refuge, Long Creek Waterfowl Refuge, and portions of Energy Lake on March 16th.
Hematite Lake will also be open March 16th for bank fishing only.
LBL's Energy Lake Area. (Land Between the Lakes)
Austin Peay State University Honors Program students excel at state conference
Clarksville, TN – The Austin Peay State University Honors Program recently attended the Tennessee Collegiate Honors Council state conference at Christian Brothers University in Memphis, TN.
The APSU program brought 13 students to the conference and boasted six student presentations.
APSU Honors Program students
Fort Campbell Riding Stables St. Paddy's Day Trail Ride
Fort Campbell, KY – Do you have the luck of the Irish? Join Fort Campbell Riding Stables for their St. Paddy's Day Trail Ride and find out.
On March 15th and 16th, they will be holding rides at 9:00am, 10:30am, 1:00pm and 2:30pm. During the ride you will have a chance to "pick a pot of gold". If you are holding the right pot of gold at the end of the ride, you will win a goody basket. «Read the rest of this article»
Clarksville Police arrest Hakim Mustafa for stabbing at Kangaroo Express
Clarksville, TN – Hakim F. Mustafa, a 52 year old male, was arrested by Clarksville Police and charged with Attempted Homicide for the stabbing at the Kangaroo Express at the corner of Lafayette Road and Ryder Avenue.
The victim is alert and talking. This is an ongoing investigation.
Austin Peay State University Basketball's Cory Arentsen elects to transfer
Clarksville, TN – Sophomore guard Cory Arentsen has announced he is leaving the men's basketball program.
The 6-5 Breese, IL, native indicated to head coach Dave Loos earlier this week he was looking for a situation that would offer him more playing time.
Clarksville-Montgomery County School System Inclement Weather Make-up Plan
Spring Break will not be used to makeup days
Montgomery County, TN – Consistent with the Inclement Weather Make-up Plan and taking into consideration lost instructional time for students with their teachers, the Clarksville-Montgomery County School System will be making up one of the five days missed by adding an extra 30 minutes on to the day, beginning April 7th and ending April 24th, prior to high stakes assessments. «Read the rest of this article»
APSU Lady Govs Soccer 2014 Schedule includes Ten Home Matches
Clarksville, TN – Ten home matches, including five Ohio Valley Conference contests and two against Southeastern Conference foes, dot the 2014 Austin Peay State University women's soccer home schedule, announced Friday by head coach Kelley Guth.
APSU Lady Govs Soccer. (Brittney Sparn/APSU Sports Information)
Fort Campbell Lifeliners demonstrate readiness to deploy
Written by Sgt. Leejay Lockhart
101st Sustainment Brigade, 101st Airborne Division (AA) Public Affairs
Fort Campbell, KY – Soldiers from the 101st Sustainment Brigade, 101st Airborne Division (Air Assault), carried out a readiness validation exercise February 26th at Fort Campbell, KY. The exercise validated the unit's ability to rapidly deploy anywhere in the world.
The exercise involved approximately half of the companies of the 129th Combat Sustainment Support Battalion and one company from the 101st Special Troops Battalion.
Sgt. Joseph G. Anthony, a transportation management coordinator with the 632nd Movement Control Team, 129th Combat Sustainment Support Battalion, 101st Sustainment Brigade, 101st Airborne Division (Air Assault), marks vehicles during a training exercise that validates the readiness of units to rapidly deploy Feb. 26, at Fort Campbell, Ky. (Sgt. Leejay Lockhart, 101st Sustainment Brigade Public Affairs)


The Echo CS-310 chainsaw is a professional tool for woodcutters, with a relatively lightweight design that should make it easy to use by most people. Equipped with a powerful engine, this saw can cut through almost all types of wood, no matter how strong they seem to be.
The Echo CS-310 delivers good quality, ensuring that you can use it for long periods of time without seeing any signs of deterioration. It should easily cut through any kind of wood and it is built to last, so you can expect a high endurance out of it.
It should be very easy to both start and stop, without encountering any difficulties during the process, even if you repeat it often while cutting through trees.
You won't have any problems with maintaining it either, as the chain tension and oil system should work like charm when using it.
Most homeowners and amateur woodcutters will find this chainsaw to be exactly what they need. It's very easy to use and thus excellent for entry-level. You just have to remember that, even though this saw is lightweight, it has much torque and power to it, so don't be tempted to use it as if it were a toy. But those qualities also make it useful for more professional woodcutters, who want to work all day long without discomfort or fatigue.
Although the Echo CS-310 is a reliable chainsaw, you may encounter some small failures with it, such as the recoil handle breaking off or the chain loosening when using it. It may also be harder for you to get it started on a cold weather. Also, don't be surprised if it leaks oil when you let it idle for a longer period of time.
The Echo CS-310 is a good overall investment for homeowners and other entry-level woodcutters, providing good price-quality ratio. Its light design is probably the thing that makes the difference.
Chain brake Yes Chain size 14 in.