William

J. Stalter Gerald

Description

Love is shady, love is, after all those years, nostalgia! December 16, 1944 was the day nineteen-year-old William Starr came home in New York from shore leave. He kissed his mother on the forehead and danced with his sweetheart. He wrote a letter which he planned to leave for her on his pillow, asking her to marry him. Everything changed when he woke up on the ground in a strange house, with not much making sense, just his sweetheart's locket in his hands. Soon, actions force him to see his mother for who she is - evil. With his past creeping behind him, William feels as if he is being followed by a dark mist that keeps ripping him at the seams, making him think it is taking over him. With his family spread out in hiding, the only thing he needs is his grace and a place to hide. With his mother's army of the dead soldiers attacking at night, nothing is safe, not even the woods. Only the past will set him free, as he keeps the flame lit. Walking on Prince Freddie's wavelength lets him see the world for what it is.

Sujets

• Romance

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 30 novembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781645755067
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

William
Freddie Series: Book 2
Gerald J. Stalter
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-11-30
William About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Chapter 1 Rusted Halo Chapter 2 Weathering Thoughts Chapter 3 Yellow Bell Bush Chapter 4 Bicycle Planter Chapter 5 Chamber Pots Chapter 6 Rotting Rocking Horse Chapter 7 Falling Bird Feeders Chapter 8 Burning Lanterns Chapter 9 Watered Down Gravestones Chapter 10 Corkscrew Lullabies Chapter 11 Golden Silhouette Chapter 12 Empty Lipstick Tube Chapter 13 The Devaney Estates Chapter 14 Mercury Top Hats Chapter 15 Forgotten Fairy Garden Chapter 16 String of Pearls Chapter 17 Rabbit Tracks Chapter 18 Invisible Headstones Chapter 19 Drummer Boy Chapter 20 Pressed Flowers Chapter 21 Swinging Bird Cages Chapter 22 Chipped Garden Gnome Chapter 23 Gardeners Skull
About the Author
The author, Gerald J. Stalter, comes from a big genealogical-rooted family. In 2012, after the death of his grandmother, Gertrude Rose, he took over her spot in keeping the genealogy going and solving family mysteries along the way. He is most known for his research on his great-great-grandfather Alexander Colash Totten’s suicide. He lives in Waverly, Tennessee, with his pug, Bucky, along with his sister, Sarah. Originally from upstate New York (not the city), he was given the gift of using his imagination that leads him to write. Some of the writing of Gerald’s comes from experiences from his own life that he poured into his characters throughout his storytelling. Starting small in publications in genealogical-based magazines, Gerald has gained experience to lead to a full-length manuscript. Gerald has a two-year degree in education and hopes to teach more in the future. When not writing, you can find Gerald spending time with his mother who has kidney disease, keeping his fingers crossed for a cure.
Dedication
Like a rose you can’t glue the petals back on when they fall. You have taught me to stand on my feet and when I get knocked down to stand back up, Look at fear in the face, remember not to blink. This book is dedicated to a woman who has given it all to not want in return. Books are her best friend, and she can make a mean peanut butter cookie. Moo-Moo, or as they all know you, Mary J. Stalter-Dragon. This is for you. You will always be that lady on the porch of your doublewide in your curlers, holding a red mixing bowl telling us to get off that four-wheeler. Thank you for letting me plant those candies in your garden instead of flower seeds too. If you didn’t know, then I didn’t do that. Love you more. – J.
Copyright Information ©
Gerald J. Stalter (2020)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Ordering Information
Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Stalter, Gerald J.
William
ISBN 9781645755050 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781645755043 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781645755067 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020918141
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street, 28th Floor
New York, NY 10005
USA
[e-mail]
[phone]
Acknowledgement
I would like to thank my mother, who thinks a dedication is not for her as she did not earn it, but she has. Let us wear green for Lorraine to hope for a cure for kidney disease. I am right there in your shoes when it comes to taking care of a loved one 24 hours a day. It’s hard to balance everything and take that hit. For all she has given me there is no way that I am turning my back onto her. I have dropped everything for her and forever will. She was my cheerleader, now it’s my turn.
Also, I would like to thank the team who helped this book / wounded soldier to get on his feet and those who work for my publisher, Austin Macauley. This company has taken what I said and made it into a reality. It is like when you’re collecting vintage president election pins you get so excited when it comes in the mail. Well, I get the same reaction when I get an email from them. Who is having a geek moment right now, not me?
Please donate this book to a charity organization near you so someone who might not be able to buy a copy can read it. If it were not for places like that, I would not be here today, so please pass it forward. Smile on!
March 5, 1944
Yesterday and today was rather cool. It was hard to sleep as last night, the wind was whistling around the building. Sounded like winter but I was not cold.
Chapter 1

Rusted Halo
(William!)
The embryonic Preacher man stood face, clutching his book of statistics with a glisten. Holding the smile as the Photographer asked him to stand still. Humming a sixpence as the frozen moment was captured in upside down glass silhouettes. A dead still photo for the loved one’s blessing fold. The best suit he ever owned with penniless shoes. Hands attached to each other, placed just so over the lap one last time like the roses left on the lid his loved ones leave attached with a kiss. Sitting the body in an upright pose watching as the eyes opened like a baby doll. Hand up the back of his suit coat as if he was a puppet just getting the right feet for the ventriloquist. Watered down skin, with a upside down smile adding glass like eyes. Once the photo was done, putting the poor boy back into the wooden box as his eyes closed as they lowered his back onto the fabric. A stranger holding him in the air as he is laid down to rest as flashes of a baby boy without a chance, a boy getting thrown into the water learning to swim, a man who was lowered as he took a wife, an old man sitting on his rocking chair, now a life gone waisted lowered down into a box of pine. With nothing but hands to tie it like a bow from all his year.
“May we bow our heads.” I saw all the pretty in your soul boy. Why does it feel like I was just another one of your ghosts? “We gather here to lower William A. Starr into mothers’ natures beautiful garden of endless time.” I was walking among the frozen field of people when my face turn to listen to the words the preacher man called out. Why did he just say my name? Looking around in the crowd of people that were standing around a coffin. On the other side stands alone my Freddie. The coffin lid was up as I saw myself lying there. Freddie’s hand reaches to me on the other side. Why can’t I feel? Watching as Edith came to say her goodbyes when it was said.
“Why did he have to commit Suicide?” Looked down at my fingers as blood dripped down to the ground. Lines going crossed my wrist. That is when I took his hand. It forced me to see my eyes to see a bright light as if it were dots off a Morse code reader. It was just a dream, I found myself on a hospital bed getting transported down the hall. Sat up in my own body sweat and my wrist were wrapped in pink cloth, a nurse pushed me back to lying down. One of them said I coded before. Wait, last thing I remember was counting numbers. How did I die? I must go back to the beginning to make it clear.
Four months earlier!
3.5 months,
12 hours,
46 minutes,
17 seconds,
2 milliseconds!
That is how long he has been away. I counted the numbers like it was a recipe I was following. It felt like I was walking around this house with the redness from the rope burn after they took off my noose. Counting down the time until they come and get me to die. Going through the crowds of people, listening to them mock me for what I have done. Watching their faces as I fall to the ground. Now in our new lives they still bully me, but they do not remember what they did to me all those years ago. We live with the ones we known in our past lives. They play different rolls but who says I would not remember to not forgive those.
It felt more like I volunteered to be the canary in the coal mine. Felt more like I was getting dragged into the mine in a cage as I watched my Freddie getting smaller until I could not see him anymore. Just standing there looking like a ghost. He did not think about the thought if I was to come back dead or alive. They had a reward on my wanted poster no matter if I saw his face or not. So, I went to the darkest side of this person that no one ever knew was there. Even a grown man fears the dark. There he was to light it back up.
Dancing with the shadows of memories of yesterday as all I do is sit and think. Moving these penny loafers will not make him come back. Now I catch myself dancing in the shower, singing into the air, and head looking back to see if he would come in and catch me rocking out to a song. Then I place my hands on the walls…
Never asking:
Who: Freddie!
What: I given birth to a stillborn baby boy.
Where: He went to New York, I stayed here. No calls too.
When: Three months ago, last Tuesday.
Why: He never told me the whole story.
How: I drove him away.
Never asking myself these but going over them in my head like a running needle on a vinyl record that was done playing. Just letting the water run off my skin as that leaves me too. Ought to live wit