Brain to Books Indie Pride Day Book Blast And Blog Tour: Author Tiffany Apan

Today is July 1st, and celebrates both Canada Day and Indie Pride Day. So I wish a Happy Canada Day to my fellow Canadians, and give this post as part of the Brain to Books Indie Pride Day Book Blast and Blog Tour!

As part of this indie pride extravaganza my blog will be featuring the horror genre.

And for this event, I have a great spotlight featuring author Tiffany Apan and her gothic horror novel Descent, part of her Birthrite series. Enjoy...

Descent (The Birthrite Series, #1) by Tiffany Apan

Visions of infant twin boys, clouds, a young woman taking her own life, and a collision of space, time, and realms...

On the eve of Summer Solstice in 1844, four men in different areas of the world share an experience that impacts not only their own lives, but those of the future generations. The first man is Nicolae Ganoush, a young Romany fugitive from a slave village in Wallachia. The second is Jonathan Blake, an eighteen-year-old Irishman in the American Midwest who finds himself falling in love with a young woman from a nearby Sioux village. The third is James Livingston, a prominent figure in colonial America, and the fourth is Hector de Fuentes, a sixteen-year-old from Tuxpan, Mexico with special gifts and visions enhanced by a mysterious and wondrous cave. Each man carries his own inner battle, unbelievable ancient truths deep within their lineages, and demons that are much closer to home than any of them would like.

Later in 1931, seventeen-year-old Dorothy Blake, a descendant of Jonathan and his Sioux wife, is living in Plains, New York, the town founded by James Livingston. The notorious Fleming Orphanage has long fallen into disuse but kept by the town as a landmark. The buildings loom high on a hill, overlooking the town, taunting the townsfolk with its lore. On Halloween night, Dorothy ventures up with friends, and the group of six expects nothing more than a good time along with a few laughs. But they fall into a dark, brutal evil; one that extends beyond the orphanage and town of Plains, far back into history. Their descent is only the beginning…

The Birthrite Series is an epic journey into the vast unknown, plunging deep into the dark crevices of the mind, begging the question of what sanity really is and if the insane truly are. Are we really shown the whole truth of what surrounds us or is it an illusion? It also tells of deep-rooted love, planted centuries ago and a story of family, forgiveness, and redemption.

You can find Descent on:

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Smashwords
Goodreads

And you can check out the Birthrite Series here:

Birthrite Facebook Page

Book Trailer

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tiffany Apan grew up among the thick forests of the Appalachian Mountains in Northeastern Pennsylvania. It was there she began honing artistic abilities and received much of her creative inspiration. A misfit among her peers (she was the only one in her fifth grade writing class obsessed enough with Vikings and Norwegian mythology to write poems about them), Tiffany was highly active in the artistic community in Wilkes-Barre, PA, involving herself in all music, theater, visual arts, and writing. Eventually, she settled quite comfortably into a role as “that artsy kid in black” who sits in a coffee shop, drinking endless amounts of coffee and tea while writing furiously in a journal or sketchpad.

After graduating high school, she left the Northeastern PA ghosts for the Southeastern PA zombies (Pittsburgh). Upon the move, Tiffany became involved with the indie film scene, landing supporting roles in a couple films. This also gave way to the release of her music with partner in crime, Jason English. Since then, she has gone on to act in several films and theater productions with starring and supporting roles, release music to critical acclaim, and receive accolades for her writing and producing.

The Appalachian Mountains serve as a backdrop for many of her stories, including The Cemetery by the Lake and The Birthrite Series.  You can check out more of her work (writing, music, film, etc) on her website, blog, Amazon, and other social media.

You can find out more about the author and her writing at these sites:

Website

Blog

Facebook

Twitter

YouTube

CDBaby

Amazon Profile

Goodreads

Smashwords Profile

~*~

For more genres and tour stops check out these blogs:

Ani Manjikian - Right the Writer: https://rightthewriter.com/

Heidi Angell: http://www.heidiangell.com/blog

Tabitha Barret - The Throne Room: http://www.thethirdthrone.com/

Rainne Atkins - Just Books: http://rainnes.blogspot.com/

And Angela B. Chrysler for the main Book Blast event:

http://www.angelabchrysler.com/blog/

Drabble Wednesday: Macabre Musings

Today, on this Canada Day edition of Drabble Wednesday, I bring you some ghosts, some trains, and a tiny touch of the apocalypse…

Endings

I sit on the damp park bench, careful not to slip on the wet pavement. It’s a foggy morning full of drizzle, not any different from yesterday or the day before. The days seem to blend now, with rain and faded colours.

Still, the park is beautiful. It’s quiet, no one is here yet. The fog diffuses the morning light, giving the trees a soft, velvet look. Almost a sepia tone, like pictures my grandmother showed me.

It won’t stay this way. The scavengers, the abandoned survivors of the plague will come soon. Nevertheless…

It’s a nice place to die.

The Bridge

Why am I here?

I am standing on a bridge?

In the fog?

I am so cold…

Why am I here?

I am still on the bridge?

It is so cold.

I thought it was summer.

Why am I here?

Why is it so foggy?

Why is my dress sodden?

It is cold... so cold.

Why am I here?

I am cold… so cold… so wet…

I cannot see in this fog… wait, I believe… there are people?

Help me… oh, please, help me…

And folks, this turn of the century bridge is the next stop on our ghost tour…

Old Photos

Look at the photo.

Can you hear the train?

There’s no train in the photo you say.

I know. But it’s there, a ghost at my shoulder. I can hear it.

I can hear its forlorn whistle, the clackety clack of its wheels against the tracks, sense its rumble under my feet. I even smell its belching smoke.

I see that smile. The ramblings of an old man. I’m not crazy. The train is real. It’s haunting me.

It’s John’s old train you see. He’s never forgiven me, and now he’s coming back. Each day the train gets closer, closer…

~*~

And for an extra Canada Day treat, here’s the link to my free flash fiction short, Even the Paranormal Play Sports: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/113780

Even the Paranormal Play Sports

Things have taken a turn for the paranormal in a small corner of Canada. Set against the backdrop of a hockey game, teenager Deidre Dawson tells her strange story to a reporter.

Happy Canada Day!

For Canada Day: Even The Paranormal Play Sports

Happy Canada Day!

To celebrate, I bring you a little Canadian paranormal:

Even The Paranormal Play Sports

“Welcome everyone to the final showdown between the Clover Creek Undead and the Johnsonville Bloodsuckers! Let the hockey begin!”

A roar went up from the crowd; we had all begin looking forward to this championship game for weeks. I mean life has to go on, right, even if some of your friends and neighbours aren’t, well, exactly alive anymore.
I was sitting third row up, so I scanned the rink as the players skated in and cheered as my boyfriend Freddie hit center ice. I waved at him and he blew me a kiss. He was so gorgeous, even in all that bulky hockey gear; I could see a hint of his vampire fangs as he smiled. It was good to see him smile again, heck to see everyone so happy again, after all that happened.

“Miss Dawson, could we get back to the interview?”
Oh, yeah, I almost forgot the reporter. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to neglect you, but I had to wave to my sweetie. And you can call me Deidre.”
“Teenage love aside, Deirdre, my paper is very interested in the alleged strange occurrences in this area, so if you would...” He turned on a tiny digital recorder.
Geez, the guy’s persistent. Would it kill him to wait until the game was over? I sighed.
“Okay. Here’s how it happened. It started early last summer, just before the start of tourist season. No one even bothered giving the two strangers much notice. Most everybody just thought they were nutty Europeans, although Marcy thought they were a gay couple from the States, California maybe, and Crazy Mitchell swore they were mobsters to anyone who would listen.” I paused for a second as they dropped the puck and our team won possession.
“These guys rented the old Sampson place up on the hill off Cedar Street. They kept to themselves and they didn’t come to town much, or do any of the tourist stuff. This, of course, got all the tongues wagging and theories about what they were doing in that house were flying left and right. People were even saying Crazy Mitchell was right about them being mobsters and any day the town would be shot up or invaded by the RCMP.”
My attention was pulled to the ice; Freddie had the puck. “Go Freddie!” I cheered as my honey scored and the reporter fumed beside me.
“Relax, why don’t you? I’ll get to it, but I’m not missing the hockey.” I cheered again as our team won the faceoff.
“They were here for a couple of weeks or so, before the first incident, when the dead cow was found. At first everyone thought it was coyotes, but then the rumours went around, about how there was no blood in the carcass.”
“I heard about those rumours. They didn’t have any hard facts to back them up. There was no evidence the police were called in to investigate, no official record of an incident with a dead cow, or any report of a disposal of the carcass. There’s no proof of any such event occurring.”
“Oh, it occurred, but I wouldn’t know about police investigation or stuff like that. I don’t usually take notice of dead cows.” I smirked at the reporter. “Besides, I was too busy with the end of year school dance. It’s a sort of pre-prom thing for all the high school students. We did this whole vampire/werewolf/Twilight theme, which is kind of funny considering.”
“I’m sure your dance was lovely, but could we get back to what’s important here.”
“Hey, jerk, the dance is important. That’s where it happened.” Action on the ice distracted my attention. “Damn, Clover Creek has the puck. Take it back, Johnsonville. Don’t let them score!”
“Could you please try and focus on the story, Miss Dawson!”
This guy really annoyed me, and he was asking for it, but I turned my attention back. “Like I said, the dance is where everything happened. We held it at the arena here, on account of the big turnout, and hockey season being over meant the place was free to use for the evening. We had to have chaperones, cause everybody was afraid we get drunk or something, like we couldn’t do that anyway. And I guess that was the excuse those new guys used when showed up at the dance. It’s like we thought they were just trying to help, be all community or something.”
“Two strangers show up at a teenage dance and no one questioned it? I find that odd.”
“Well that was the thing wasn’t it? They should’ve seemed out of place. Marked as possible pervs at least, but they weren’t. We didn’t know until later how or why.”
“You’re saying these men conned their way into a high school dance? To do what exactly? Threaten a bunch of teenagers? To what end?”
“Recruitment. They spiked the punch and the rest of the drinks, waited, then locked us in the arena and gassed the place. We didn’t even know what went down until we, uh, woke up I guess.”
“You are telling me two men locked down an entire building to drug a group of teens unconscious? That seems a bit, farfetched.”
“No. We weren’t drugged, they killed us.”
The reporter stared at me as if I’d just grown two heads, and then he got mad. “Is this some type of joke? Pull one on the idiot reporter? Because I don’t like having my time wasted, young lady!”
“It’s no joke. The two guys were honest to real vampires. They put some juiced up vampire blood in the drinks and then pumped in poison gas to kill us all. Except we didn’t die. We became like them, vampires. Pretty much every teen around here, over the age of fifteen is now a vampire.”
“That’s preposterous.”
“Yeah, it was kind of a complicated idea. I mean, after we, changed, we were supposed to fall in line with their plans and all and become some kind of army or something like that. Like we’d listen to a couple of uptight, out-of-town vampire loons.”
The reporter looked at me funny and shrank back in his chair. “You’re serious. You actually believe what you’re saying. What is this, some weird paranormal cult thing?”
“Is that what you think? Well it isn’t. It’s real.”
“This is nuts. It must be brain damage or brainwashing or a hoax. You can’t be-be...”
“What? A vampire? The undead? That’s what everybody else said too, until the government came. Now, they believed us, and did the whole hush-hush clean up bit you see in movies. But not before a few rumours and YouTube videos leaked out. Which is how you got sent here, I’m guessing?”
“We go on more substantial facts than YouTube videos, but yes, my paper sent me here to investigate a possible government cover-up and suspected violations of civil rights.”
“Good luck with that. This whole incident has been deemed a ‘national security risk’ and those two vampires classed as ‘domestic terrorists’.” I notice two burly men headed our way. “Did you know that our national spy agency has a paranormal division?”
“Excuse me? CSIS has a what?”
“A paranormal division. It seems it has been operating for years. They have the entire area under surveillance and curfew.” The two brawny guys came to a stop behind the reporter. “And I believe these two agents are here for you.”
The agents hauled the reporter out of his seat and they scuffled, but he was taken away. I kind of felt sorry for him, but hey, I got to protect my own. Those CSIS nuts were serious about not letting the secret out and my friends and I like living or un-living as it were. As long we vampires cooperate, we get to keep our heads.
I turned back to the hockey, just in time to watch Freddie steal the puck.
“Go Freddie!” I gave my sweetie my best fanged smile.