I belong to a wonderful, supportive group of writers called The #WolfPackAuthors. We have been working on an anthology book of short stories that are tied together by one thing - Wolves. It's called, 'Once Upon a WolfPack', and it will soon be released as an ebook and paperback.
Now, that doesn't mean that every story is about the animal. What it means is that every story was written using the idea of a wolf, interpreted by each individual author. Like the writers in our group, each story is vastly different, providing a fantastic variety of well-told tales that are sure to warm the palate of our readers.
We've got some fantasy, sci-fi, cozy mystery, a touch of romance, detective fiction, literary fiction, military fiction, horror, and even some poetry--truly something for everyone.
Putting together this anthology wasn't easy. Everyone of the #WolfPackAuthors members are involved, and our group consists of people from all parts of the world. We had to have patience as we were dealing with different time zones, sometimes up to eight hours apart. We dealt with internet problems, weather issues, and even life issues that everyone has to consider at times. All of this had to be factored in when such a large group working via social media, email, and not face-to-face, are working on the same project. Some of us wrote the stories, while others handled the editing. Some put together the graphics you will soon see as we begin to advertise the book, while others worked on the artwork for the cover. Some generated ideas that pushed us all in the right direction so we could end up traveling on the same road to completion for this project. There were deadlines to be met, and we had to put in that extra effort to meet those deadlines while working around our other, individual projects. We burned the midnight oil. We reached out to one another for advice. Friendships among the group members deepened. It was, and is, a labor of love.
We believe you, dear reader, will enjoy the stories within the pages of our first anthology. More importantly, we want you to know that all the proceeds for this book are being donated to the Lockwood Animal Rescue Center in California. They offer a therapeutic work environment for returning combat veterans. It is a 20-acre site that acts as a forever home for rescued wolves, as well as other animals. It is designed to help veterans and the rescued animals have an opportunity to heal. It also provides a back-to-nature setting where the animals can thrive. We felt this was a worthwhile organization and we hope you will too - check them out for yourself by clicking here: LARC
……
Here is an excerpt from my contribution to this anthology. It's a PI Detective story starring my ever-loving gumshoe, Tony Razzolito:
The Wolf
A Tony Razzolito PI Short Story
Johnny Willis had been slinging hotdogs at the ballpark for close
to ten years. It was not where he imagined he would be at this point in his
life. He thought he’d be retired and living every day in the lap of luxury on
some island in the Caribbean.
It’s not that Johnny was a dreamer, he actually had a
plan in place that should have put his butt in a beach chair with a fruity
drink by now. Up until ten years ago, Johnny had led a very different life. An
exciting life. One that afforded him the kind of income one would need to
retire on an island without a care in the world. But instead of enjoying the
sun and burying his toes in the sand, he was sweating in the sun and burying
hotdogs in mustard and relish.
Johnny’s cart was positioned on the left-hand side of the
concourse at Intimidators Stadium, home of the Kannapolis Intimidators, Class A
affiliate of the Chicago White Sox baseball team.
The crowd at
tonight’s game was somewhat rowdy, thought Johnny. Something that always
seemed to happen when the season was still young and full of promise. The
Intimidators were having their best start in the last three years, winning
fourteen of their first twenty games, and the diehards were already predicting
a post-season playoff berth. A good start for the team meant better than average
crowds on the weeknights, not just the weekends, which meant better than
average sales for Johnny’s business.
Johnny was one of several food vendors who bid yearly for
a spot at the park. He understood and knew how to grease the palms of the
powers that be, the people who made the vendor placement decisions. He was able
to secure the same piece of real estate—right next to one of the two beer
concession booths—every year.
When it was busy, Johnny would get into such a rhythm
slinging his dogs that he would hardly notice the customers as they ordered,
paid, and moved on. So, he didn’t realize that the guy standing in front of his
cart, placing his order, was someone he knew until the man spoke.
“It’s been a long time, Salvatore.”
Johnny was topping the man’s hotdog with mustard and
stopped mid-squeeze. Without looking up, he said, “You’re mistaken, sir. My
name is Johnny.” He went back to preparing the man’s meal as ordered.
The man snorted. “Johnny! That’s a good one. What makes
you think you could pass for a Johnny?” The man stared hard at the hotdog
vendor. “You’ve got the nose and the hairline of an old Italian man,
Salvatore.” He paused as a smile crept across his face. “Or do you still refer
to yourself as The Wolf?”
Johnny was trying not to let his nerves get the best of
him. Although he always knew this day would come, he had gotten comfortable as
the years passed.
He had picked the lazy southern city of Kannapolis
because he had never heard of it. He just figured that anyone who might be
looking for him probably never heard of it either. But now, here he was, facing
a man from his former life who was most likely going to kill him.
The man looked around the ballpark. It really was a busy
evening, and the line was growing. He smiled at Johnny. “We’ll talk later,” he
said. He paid for his meal and walked to the seating section nearest to
Johnny’s cart. He sat in the top row and glanced back at Johnny, making sure he
saw him and knew he was right there… waiting.
To be continued...
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