Jamieson Wolf
Number-one bestselling author
Street Rat Magic – A Poem
She is sitting
on the street
corner. I’m a
little surprised to
see her back.
“Irene?”
I say softly.
“What are you doing here? I thought you’d left the streets.”
She looks up
at me, her eyes
wide and her
face tired and
pale. She gives
me a half
smile and shrugs.
“Times are tough, you know? Times are tough.”
I want to
bend down and
give her a
hug, some sort
of comfort that
would make the
pain she carries
on her face,
in her soul,
slip away, but
I can’t. Instead
I can only
give her some
form of kindness.
I take a
dollar out of
my pocket and
drop it in
her hat. She
smiles at me.
“Thanks. You were always good to me.”
“It’s nothing.”
I tell her.
“No, when you were a street rat, you always looked out for me. Always took care of others. I could never do that.”
I smile, warmed
by her words.
As I walk
away, I reflect
at how fortunate
I am. I was
able to get
off the streets,
out of the
shelters, away from
the food banks.
Through the kindness
of others, I
found my way
back home. I
was lucky. However,
I know that
others aren’t so
lucky, even ones
I used to
know like family.
She may not
have been family
of the blood,
but was instead
family of the
heart. She’s a
street rat to
some but to
me, she will
always be a
sister. I didn’t
look at what
I gave her
as just money.
In some way,
I hoped what
I was giving
her was a
bit of magic
so that she
could find her
own happily ever
after.
Love, Outside of Books – A Poem
One night, while
I was reading,
my book began
to glow. The
pages gave off
a soft white
light. I set
the book down
and looked at
it in wonder.
A tune that
I couldn’t place
played from inside
the pages. I
watched as the
words along the
page began to
reform themselves into
other words. I
watched them as
they spelled out
a message to
me. I leaned
closer to them,
but they were
a swirl of
letters I couldn’t
read. The music
grew louder and
the light grew
brighter. I wasn’t
afraid, but only
curious. An outline
of a hand
appeared on the
page and I
placed my hand
on it without
hesitation. The music,
so haunting and
beautiful, grew louder,
the light brighter
still until I
had to close
my eyes. When
I opened them
again, I was
inside my book,
the trees of
the Enchanted Forest
surrounding me, tall
enough to touch
the sky. In
front of me
stood the object
of my affection,
the hero of
the story. He
was even more
dashing in person.
His blond hair
flowed in the
wind and the
music that had
been coming from
the book was
louder here. He
smiled at me.
“You don’t belong here.”
He said. His
voice was gentle
though they uttered
a reprimand. I
nodded in agreement.
“I know I don’t.”
“Then why do you look for your heart’s desire inside of a book?”
“Because it doesn’t exist. He doesn’t exist.”
He shook his
head. still smiling.
“You just haven’t found the right man yet. Give it time, your story still has much to be told.”
“True love doesn’t exist in my world. It’s only in books and fairy tales that you find true love. It’s why I spend so much time writing and reading.”
He leaned forward
and ran a
thumb along my
chin. His eyes
looked deep and
serious and full
of deep warmth.
“You have to love yourself. Only then will someone capable of true love be able to find you.”
My skin was
warm from where
he had touched
my face. I
tried to take
in the entirety
of him, but
the light was
growing bright again.
“How will he find me?
“You shine bright like a beacon. He will find you.”
“Promise?”
“As you wish.”
He said. The
light grew so
bright, I had
to close my
eyes again. When
I opened them
once more, I
was back in
my own room.
“As you wish.”
I repeated. I
didn’t have much
luck with wishes
come true, but
I knew this
one would. I
just had no
idea when. So
I waited and
hoped and prayed.
I got on
with my life.
I fell into
what I thought
was love when
it was something
altogether different. I
fell out of
love with myself,
believing that my
wish made all
those many years
ago would never
come true. Then
one day, I
saw a light
in the distance.
It shone brighter
than the sun,
and I was
reminded of the
light that filled
the Enchanted Forest
so long ago.
Though I tried
to get closer
to it, I
could not. I
knew that it
would come to
me in time,
or that I
would find it,
stumble upon it.
While I waited,
I focused on
myself, believing that
I would never
find the other
half of my
light, that part
of me would
remain dimmed forever.
When I had
given up hope
and had resolved
myself to being
alone for the
rest of my
life, you entered
it. I remember
the first time
I saw you,
the instant spark
that happened between
us. It created
a light that
shone so brightly
that I almost
looked away, but
I didn’t. I
could only look
at you, the
shape of your
your face, the
depth of your
eyes. All I
saw was kindness
and beauty and
then my light
responded to yours.
Both our beacons
intermingled until the
light became brighter,
until my body
was filled with
our glorious light.
I heard that
music of long
ago, that tune
I had heard
inside the book.
Now I realized
that it came
from me and
it was my
heart responding to
the possibility of
you. As we’ve
grown to know
each other, our
love and our
light has continued
to grow. You’ve
proved that love
doesn’t exist only
inside of books
and that with
love, anything is
possible. You’ve proved
that wishes do
come true. I
can only give
you my heart
and watch as
our light grows
ever brighter.
“As you wish…”
Mall of the Dolls: Free from October 27th – 31st 2014
I’ve always loved Halloween.
The mythology, legend and lore behind it. The fact that anything that is considered out of this world becomes acceptable, just for one day.
I also have a sweet tooth and love trick or treating, though I haven’t been out in many years. I just buy my own treats now, though it doesn’t have the same thrill.
I wanted to give you all a Halloween treat this year and I think there’s no better treat than a good book. So, starting tomorrow and running until October 31st, you’ll be able to download my little novella, Mall of the Dolls, for free!
Here’s a little bit about the novella:
Out shopping at the local mall one weekend afternoon, Owen and Val begin to see doll like girls wandering around the mall in the crowds. They are all wear the same curly wig, they all wear makeup and rhinestone ear rings.
Val and Owen begin to grow alarmed as they realize how many of the dolls are in the shopping centre with them. When they become trapped inside of a crowd of doll children, neither of them have any idea what will happen next.
When the doll children start dying, and a host of other people become trapped inside and outside the mall by forces they cannot begin to understand, the answer is clear:
The end of the world has finally come.
And the dolls want to play…
The novella started with a bit of inspiration. My friend Val and I were out at a mall and saw a crowd of girls all dressed the same with long curly wigs, big ear rings, lots of makeup and shiny dresses.
I asked one of the mothers what was going on. “It’s an Irish Dancing competition.” She said, as if that explained everything.
I turned to Val and said: “Is it just me, or are you creeped out by all these girls taking over the mall?”
“Creeped out. They all look like Tammy Faye Baker. Or like little dolls.”
That was all the inspiration I needed. I went home and wrote what I thought would be a short story. Then it kept going, as I wondered who else would be caught in the mall.
I’m really happy with how it turned out and it ended up being the first thing I published under my Wolf Flow Press imprint. Added to that, it’s the perfect tale for Halloween.
Fantasy Author Sandy Lender had this to say about Mall of the Dolls:
In Jamieson Wolf’s “Mall of the Dolls,” I found myself thinking of Steven King’s “Langoliers” more than once. The creepy, eerie, something’s-about-to-get-you-and-you’ll-never-see-it-coming sense of foreboding kept me scrolling through the pages as Wolf told the story through different sets of characters. I don’t want to give too much away, because it’s a novella and a quick, suspenseful read, but the use of children to heighten the drama is well done. Very well done. (Another reminder of Steven King.)
There’s some coarse language throughout, as you should expect when zombie children are posing a threat to groups of unsuspecting people, but it’s a well-told tale with excellent scenes and great setting. Wolf knows how to build a scene without over-describing it, pulling the reader right into the action (and making you think you’re about to get attacked by one of the shadow men as well…).
Read with ALL the lights on.
So from October 27th to the 31st, you can download Mall of the Dolls for FREE! It’s available for download to your Kindle, iPad, iPod Touch, PC or Android Device.
You can get your copy here:
If you read it, why not consider reviewing it? I truly hope you enjoy it and that it brings a little bit of fright to your Halloween!
A Foot Thing – A Poem
He saw me
coming up the
front steps of
my apartment building.
“Hey.”
He said. I
nodded at him.
“Hello.”
He got up
off the front
stoop and held
the door open
for me. I
am always one
to do that
for others, but
it still surprises
me when others
do it for
me in return.
“Thank you very much.”
I said. He
smiled and motioned
at my feet.
“It’s no problem. You seem to have a foot thing going on there.”
“A foot thing?”
I tilted my
head to the
right, not sure
I had heard
him correctly. He
had the good
grace to look
slightly uncomfortable, embarrassed.
“You walk funny. You had trouble coming up the stairs.”
“Oh.”
I said quietly.
I spend a
great deal of
time trying not
to think about
my constant companions,
disease and disability.
They are not
who I am,
what makes me,
me. They are
only a part
of who I
am and what
I can do.
“Not that it’s any of my business, but why do you walk that way?”
I thought about
not answering him,
but he seemed
genuinely curious so
I answered him.
“I have Cerebral Palsy and Multiple Sclerosis.”
Then I waited
for what people
usually said, the
pitying looks, words
uttered in soft
voices. Instead, he
surprised me completely.
“Oh! Well you’re doing very well then. I would never have known.”
“Thank you.”
I blushed slightly.
“I just take it one day at a time.”
“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Keep it up.”
I was warmed
by his compliment.
“Thanks,”
I said, smiling.
“I will.”
I felt lighter
as I went
inside and wondered
about the difference
between how you
perceive yourself and
how others see
you.
On a Crowes Wing – A Short Story
It was the crows he noticed first.
He’d been on the road for a few hours and was getting tired. He only had another hour to drive before he reached the hotel but he had to stop and stretch his legs. When he saw the sign for the rest stop, he pulled over to the exit and headed towards it.
On the roadway, leading up to the rest stop, he saw the dead carcasses of crows leading the way to the rest stop like a trail of bread crumbs. He was slightly put off by them, their feathers still glistening in the half light of the coming dusk.
As he approached the rest stop, he noticed something else: surrounding the building was a circle of crows, just as stationary as the ones that reminded him of bread crumbs. He drove on and seeing a break in the circle of crows drove into the rest stop parking lot.
At that moment, the sky was filled with blackness as the crows he’d assumed were dead took flight into the air. All of them were cawing and he covered his ears to block out the sound. They seemed to be almost shrieking; with joy or with fear he didn’t know.
When the black cloud of birds had flown away into the sky, he opened the car door and got out. Looking back at the road he had driven here on, he saw that the road, too, was empty of the carrion birds. Steven shivered.
He wasn’t an overly superstitious person, but crows that were dead returning to life just as he crossed the barrier of the circle seemed too much of a coincidence. “Fucked up.” He said. He considered driving away right then and there, but the need to take a piss was too strong to ignore.
Getting out of his car, Steven closed the door and took one last look at where the crows had been. He wondered what it all meant. He knew that crows were the only birds that could go to the world of the afterlife, at least in mythology. He shook his head and walked to front door of the rest stop.
It looked pretty run down. There was a broken pane of glass in the door and the windows on either side of it were covered with wood. There were vines covering part of the door and it didn’t look like anyone had been here in ages. There were sounds coming from inside, however, so he wasn’t worried. Opening the door, he stepped inside.
Walking down a short hallway towards the sound of people, Steven entered a wide area that was filled with people and, for some strange reason, a player piano. It stood in the centre of the rest stop playing what sounded like Elton John music.
There was a small coffee shop that looked as if it was doing brisk business. A crowd of people were shuffling around in line, waiting for their drinks and the chairs and tables were filled with people, none of them looking particularly enthused to be there.
The call of nature forgotten, Steven went up to the counter and waited to be served. A few of the people in front of him turned to regard Steven with curious glances. One woman actually smiled at him. She stepped out of line and motioned him forward.
“Oh, you go first dear.” She said.
“But it’s not my turn in line. I can wait.”
“No dear, I insist! We’ve all been in line for what seems like forever and we can’t make up our minds. You go first, please do.”
“Thank you.”
Steven went in front of the woman and two other patrons. They all looked pale and tired, as if their skin were made from aged paper, with no colour in their cheeks. He turned to the clerk and she gave him what could only be a shocked stare.
“You’re not dead.” She whispered.
“I don’t think so. One large black to go please.”
She stared at him the entire time she was pouring the coffee as if she had never seen a man before. There were several around, including an older man who looked to be about a hundred and covered in dust.
The server brought his coffee to him. “Please take me with you.” She said.
Steven was taken aback. “Look, I don’t even know you.”
“Please, I’ve been here for so very long. I just want to be free of this place.”
“Can’t help you, sorry.”
He took his coffee and went to sit down but turned to look back at her when he heard her crying. He took another step back and found himself bumping into the piano bench. The piano stopped playing for only an instant and a voice said “Careful there, sir.”
Steven turned around to look for the man who had spoken but didn’t see anyone. “Sorry?” Steven said.
“It’s all right, happens.” The voice said.
This place was getting weirder and more bizarre by the moment. The server girls wails were getting louder and Steven wanted nothing more than to be gone from the place. He was about to leave, to run out of the rest stop, when he felt a hand at his elbow. The woman who’d given him her place in line was standing there.
“You look like you’re a little confused. You have no idea where you are, do you?”
Steven shook his head. “Just a rest stop, that’s all this place is, right?”
The woman smiled and Steven saw her face wrinkle as if it was unused to such a movement. “My dear boy, you don’t even know what you’ve walked into, do you? What’s your last name?”
“Why?”
“Names have power dear boy and yours must be powerful if you were able to enter here and still remain alive. Gerry, do you mind playing something other than Elton John? He gets on my nerves.”
“Sorry Betty.” Said the man’s voice. There was a pause and the music changed to something classical that was haunting and lilting. “This better?”
“Much, thanks Gerry.”
Steven moved away from the piano and sat down at one of the tables with a soft thump. Dust clouds rose up around him and he watched as the woman named Betty came towards him. “What is this place?”
“Tell me what your last name is first.”
“Crowe. My last name is Crowe.”
Betty gave him a shrewd look. “I thought it might be. Only the crows come here. They are the only ones who can leave but they can’t take any of us with them.”
“Where’s here? This isn’t like any rest stop I’ve ever been to.”
“That’s because it’s not. This is…” She was lost in thought for a moment. “A purgatory of sorts.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s simple really. Anyone that dies on the road ends up here, their bodies decaying where their spirits left them. When their body decays completely, the spirit ceases to be. We can still last a long time here though as it takes forever for ones bones to disappear completely. It takes forever for the body to return to the earth.”
Shaking his head again, Steven tried to find words for what he was feeling. Finally he spoke: “Isn’t purgatory where you go when whoever runs the afterlife decides where to put you?”
“Yes. But we’re the forgotten ones here, dear boy. We can’t leave without an escort and the crows, having no hand to hold on to us, can’t take us. ”
“You need my help then. ”
“It would seem so. You can come and go as you please. We would be in your debt, it would seem.”
“What do I have to do?”
“You would have to take us past the ring of crows that surround this place. Only then can our spirits move on to their final resting place. There is one proviso though. You can only take one of us at a time and only one spirit every thirty days.”
“Why? Can’t I just keep coming back and retrieving more of you?”
Betty shook her head. “No, that would upset the order of things. It’s just the way of things.”
“It seems unfair, letting you all remain here when I can only free one at a time.”
“Who said that anything in life, or death for that matter, was fair? There are rules to everything dear boy. There was one, I believe her name was Abigail Crowe. She tried to take two spirits at once, one in each hand. They all disappeared.”
“What happened to them?”
Betty shook her head. “No one knows. We just know that there was an explosion of light and none of them ever came back.” She gave him another shrewd look. “I must say, you’re taking this rather well, Steven Crowe.”
“My grandmother was a seer. Told me about spirits all the time, how we had to respect them, honour them.”
“You’re still doing very well. Most men would be whimpering like girls before now.”
“I’m made of strong stuff. I’ve seen some weird shit in my time.”
Betty let out a laugh that was like a frogs croak. “Oh, dear boy, I don’t doubt that. Why would you be here otherwise?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, only the lost find us. Only those that are lost see this place.”
“I’m not lost, I know exactly where I’m going.”
“But was there a time when you were lost? When you didn’t know your direction?”
Steven nodded, not saying anything.
Betty nodded in return. “I thought so. It’s what makes you so sensitive, able to see like your grandmother. Are you ready to help one of us move on?”
“Yeah.” He stood. “Let’s go.”
“Oh, not me, dear boy.” She stood and smoothed down her dress. “Take Abigail. She misses her son. He died in the car with her you know, but he never came here. This place can’t claim children. She misses him terribly.”
“What about you?”
“Oh, I’ll be around yet for a while. You can come back for me next month, Mr. Crowe. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of you. It’s not often we find a Crow, or one finds us.”
“I was just driving through.” Steven said.
“Oh, no one finds this place by accident, dear boy. You were meant to come here.” She turned and called out. “Abigail! Say your goodbyes, dear!” She turned back to Steven with a smile on her face. “Thank you for doing this. She’ll be so happy.”
“No thanks needed.”
“Oh, but there is. You always thank that which comes, no matter what it is, whether good or bad. You must always be thankful.”
Abigail had come out from behind the coffee counter looking happier than Steven had seen her previously. She looked positively radiant. “You’re taking me with you? Really?”
“Yes.” Steven said. “I guess so.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. I miss my son, you see.”
“Now, Abigail, no tears.” Betty said. “This is a happy moment. So be happy.”
“Oh I am, I am! I get to see my son. It’s been so long!”
“How long has it been?” Steven asked. “How long have you been here?”
Abigail thought for a moment. “You know, I’ve forgotten.”
“Time moves differently here.” Betty said. “It always has an always will. But enough chatter! You have to get home and you have a spirit to free to her afterlife. We can chat more next month, Mr. Crowe.”
Steven looked at Abigail. “What do I have to do?”
“Just hold her hand as you exit this place. That ‘s all. Then return next month for the next soul waiting for release.”
Abigail almost danced on the spot, so anxious was she to leave. Steven followed her a bit, but turned around to look at Betty. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” He said.
“I know you will dear boy. I know you will.”
Abigail grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the exit. Steven had no choice but to follow. When they got there, Abigail stood looking at the door. “Go on, open it.” She said.
“Can’t you?”
“No, I’m too afraid.”
Steven nodded and, still holding her hand, opened the door. They stepped outside and walked towards the circle of crows. He felt a connection with them somehow and wondered when they had returned to form the circle around the rest stop.
“It worked!” Abigail said, almost screaming with joy. “I can’t believe it worked!”
“Did you not think it would?”
“No. After dreaming of this moment for so long, I never thought it would be possible. I’d always dreamed of this moment though. Always.”
Steven watched as she began to fade, as if her skin and hair were disappearing, cell by cell. Soon, there was only the outline of her, a wispy form where Abigail had been.
The mist turned to Steven then and her grasp, though made of mist, grew stronger. “Thank you.” She said.
A light that grew from within her began to shine, growing brighter by the moment until Steven had no choice but to block his eyes with his free hand. He could see the brightness of her spirit even with his eyes closed. When the brightness gave off heat that he could feel, the hand clasping his let go and he heard her sigh with contentment as she finally found her freedom.
When the light cleared, he opened his eyes. The rest stop and all the crows were gone, only his car remained. He knew that next month, when he returned, it would be back.
Getting into his car, he drove away, wondering where he could find another rest stop. He had to piss like a race horse…
Buy Little Yellow Magnet from Amazon and Kobo!
Jamieson Wolf has written a compelling story about navigating multiple sclerosis and cerebral palsy. His story will touch your heart, make you cry, then laugh, and inspire you. A touching memoir with a bit of magic…and tarot! ~ Theresa Reed, author of The Tarot Coloring Book
Jamieson Wolf 