Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Recently I have been asked to co-host a segment on a local talk radio show. The Dirt is an all paranormal show that decided to add reviews to their programming. Lori Schulz & I will be reviewing all things paranormal such as movies, hotels, beds & breakfasts, restaurants, and, of course, books.

If you have a Paranormal book we'd love to give it a read. If it rates 4 stars or higher, we will air our review and may have you as a guest on the show. Due to FFC regulations we can not review erotica material, but if you've had a paranormal experience, we'd still like to have you as a potential guest or call in guest. We prefer print books but will accept eBook copies if that is all that is available.

For more information about the show The Dirt with Lori Schulz please visit their Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/TheDirt.LoriSchulz/info

You may also contact me at thedemonside@gmail.com

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Good morning

I have realized it has been some time since I have made a blog post. I am sorry for this. Between mommy duties, wife duties, writing and the radio, I have been slammed. But no worries my Ra and Etta fans. I have decided to get back to blogging and will be posting very shortly. While you wait be sure to check out The Demon Side and The Human Side available wherever eBooks are sold. OOh and be sure to check out my event page on facebook for a chance to win a beautiful Bella Perlina bracelet or $100 cash!!!! https://www.facebook.com/events/564574850244085/permalink/569691899732380/?notif_t=like

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

The Washington Neighborhood Center!

When I was asked to share a favorite holiday memory or tradition, I have to admit, I froze. Thinking of the holidays typically fills the minds of children and adults alike with images of large pretty boxes, bright metallic colors, twinkling lights, and feasts that could feed a small country. At least these are the images I grew up with, watching everyone around me and my favorite babysitter, the television. My holidays as a child were much different than the peaceful, joy filled scenes that play out in every holiday special. Being raised in a home with a mother who didn’t believe in the holiday spirit and a father who barely made enough money to pay for the gas it cost for him to get to work, made the season the same as every other day… bleak. That is, until a very special Christmas I remember at the age of seven. My family moved to California from Texas when I was five years old. We had been traveling from town to town for quite some time, so when we settled into the Cabana Lodge motel in Sacramento, I was happy to say the least. It was difficult sharing a small space with four other people and only having two double size beds, but it beat the old Chevy van I had been used to. With so many of us cramped in, there wasn’t much room for frivolous things such as toys, games or anything other than our clothes for that matter. But, there was a light at the end of my poverty tunnel. Right next door to our new ‘home’ was the best place that ever happened to me, the Washington Youth Center. The Center (as we called it) offered an array of entertainment, education, safety and festivities. I’d never known a single place where in one room you could learn how to box like Sugar Ray Leonard, and in the next room, learn how to knit a blanket. With a basketball court, billiard room, and a huge craft room, there was always something to keep the kids of the neighborhood busy and out of trouble. Needless to say, I spent every waking moment I could at the Center, my home away from home. And then, as if the small recreational mecca gods said ‘hey, we can do more for these kids’, the Center blew my little mind out of the water. Santa Claus decided to stop by during December of ’87. For years I had been told he was nothing more than a myth, a figment of the imagination parents told their children about to get them to behave. And why would my mother need a product of fiction to get her children to behave when she had her trusty broom? But there he was in the craft room, decked out in red velvet, black boots. He was fat and jolly just like the television said he would be. Every child took their turn on his lap except me. Something about him terrified me. Maybe it was my subconscious loyalty to my mother, or maybe just seeing something that wasn’t supposed to be real was too much for my seven year old brain to comprehend. Whichever the case, I ran crying into the bathroom. Barricading myself in a toilet stall didn’t stop Santa or his helpers from finding out what every child at the Center that day wanted for Christmas. Shortly after running into the bathroom, I was followed by the big guy and a female elf trying desperately to coax me out of my flushable sanctuary, to no avail. My mother was called to get me. I finally opened the stall door, to find a very angry mommy standing behind it. As I slowly inched my way out of the stall, I was shocked at what happened next. Furious that the center would allow Santa in without a parent’s permission, my mother grabbed my arm and began dragging me out of the building, cursing up a storm at Santa and his staff as they tried to explain they only wanted to give the kids a gift they might not otherwise get. As we made it to the door, I was suddenly possessed by some creature that knew this was my one shot to test the validity of the St. Nick rumors. I knew what I was about to do would put me in the hot seat with my mom, but like I said, I was possessed. At the top of my lungs and with everything I had inside of me, I screamed “I want a pound puppy!” as the door closed. I waited for weeks to see if the man who knew all had heard my cry. Christmas morning came, but when I looked under my pillow where I had placed my Christmas tree, a twig I had decorated with thread I had pulled from a sweater, there was nothing there. Of course, being the all-powerful, all supreme mommy she rubbed it in that he was only a man in a suit. Dejected, I left our motel room and went to the only place I felt like a kid. As I opened the door to the craft room, there he was with ten giant bags filled to the brim. As the white bearded saint saw me, he got up from his throne with a box covered in puppy wrapping paper and handed to me. Unlike the other children, I didn’t tear into it to see what I had gotten. Carefully peeling each piece of tape, as to not tear the paper, tears flooded my little eyes as I realized what hid underneath it. Not only had I got what I had asked for, but the big man one upped it by getting me the pound puppy with babies and a carrier. I didn’t receive any other gifts from the jolly ol’ guy after that year . It seemed every time he would visit the Center, I had chores to do. I held on to those puppies for dear life for quite some time, but more importantly, I held on to the spirit and happiness that that Christmas brought. I don’t get big into the holidays much, but I am sure to pass on a little of the joy that was brought to me so long ago. After all, when you really boil it down, it’s not about the gifts, as much as it is about lighting up someone’s day that may not otherwise know its warmth.

Monday, December 10, 2012

No five star review of The Demon Side Will top this!

Sent to me via facebook~ Heaven, I just wanted to gush and thank you!!... My son Jeffrey has a traumatic brain injury, and is 14 years old. he lost the ability to read during brain surgery at 6. he has been struggling to read ever since. he is into wizards and anime, and i never thought about letting him read your books... i was no feeling well and i lent him my lap top so he could watch net flix in his room (he does not have a television in his room) and i went to take a nap with Heaven. (my daughters name is also Heaven for those of you that dont know) anyway.. when i woke up he was sitting on the couch with my lap top with a dictionary and reading. i peeked over the top of the laptop to see what he was reading, as he was crying. i asked him what was wrong.. and he said.. ohhh im sooo worried about Etta. I just kind of looked at him and said, what?? he said in this book on your computer mom.. the Demon side, Etta, shes a good girl... but i think people mis understand her like they do me. HE READ THE FIRST 4 CHAPTERS OF YOUR BOOK!!! AND HE LOVES IT!!! ... he was reading it this morning before school and made me promise to let him read it after school!!! just goes to show... your writing is amazing!! and very easy to read! thank you from a momma who never thought her son would be interested in an actual book! ♥ Ker https://www.facebook.com/groups/177511195613810/permalink/504239532940973/?notif_t=like

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Woohoo the ebook version of The Human Side featuring music by Illnigma Music'world & cover model Wbff Pro Bobby Momenteller is up & running on amazon! http://www.amazon.com/Human-Side-Demon-ebook/dp/B00AE7U3RO/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354040114&sr=1-1&keywords=the+human+side+heaven+liegh+eldeen

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

So my brother Rich Dean has been doing our family's genealogy and you'll never guess what he found! Maybe there is a reason I write about Demons. This house belongs to relatives of mine. http://www.trueghosttales.com/paranormal/the-poltergeist-phenomenon/

Monday, November 5, 2012

Sneak Peak to The Human Side

                                                                  Chapter One

               I’d been unable to resist, even though I’d been warned time and time again to leave Etta alone. My curiosity always got the best of me, but also my fear for her. It had been over a year since I went from being a Fallen to saving Etta from Hell and getting my wings back, but I still worried another attack on her would come. At least that’s the excuse I’d tell myself when I would sneak away to watch her sleep, and that’s what I told myself tonight.

                 It had been too long since my last midnight visit to Etta’s room. Etta graduated from high school and went off to the hustle and bustle of Duke University. I only made one attempt to visit her there, but the hallways of her dormitory were crowded with drunken students. The risk of word getting back to Father that I had been sighted near her seemed far too great. So I would pop in on her father, John, from time to time to find out when Etta’s next visit to Quantico would be.

                During one of my eavesdropping sessions, I overheard the greatest news I ever imagined possible. Of course I’m being selfish. Unable to concentrate, failing class after class, Etta no longer wished to attend college. After three long grueling months, Etta and her friend Amy rented a house in Quantico Town and enrolled in the local community college, making it much easier for me to visit her more often. On occasion for reasons unknown, she’d go to John’s house just down the street to sleep in the room we once shared. That is where I found her tonight.

               Her long wavy brown hair, resembling tendrils of silk, spread out across her white cotton pillow. Her olive skin glowed in the creeping dawn’s light. The shadows of the falling snow outside the window danced on her exposed belly. Her lips glistened as small droplets of saliva ran down her cheek, pooling onto her pillow.

                As she softly exhaled, my body craved to lie beside her, if only for a second, so once more I might feel her sweet, steady breath against my skin. I hoped one day my secret prayers would be answered. Leaning forward in her uncomfortable white wicker chair next to the bed, I watched her sleep. Though Etta no longer wakes up screaming, every toss, every turn, and every little moan sent my imagination into overdrive. I know the veil closed behind me when I left, but I wondered if she ever dreamt about me. Did the CD and feather I left her ever bring up a hidden memory of our time together? If so, does she see me as I am now, or does she only see the demon I once was? Has her heart forgotten the love she professed for me? Does the heart ever truly forget?

                 I was so deep in my thoughts, Etta’s alarm startled me when it went off. Swiftly putting the chair back at her desk, I snagged my wing against the wall, chipping the sheetrock. Etta stirred as our song, “Taking Care of Business,” blasted on her clock radio, flooding me with the memory of us dancing and lip-synching in her bedroom. The way her hips moved as she sang into her hairbrush made my heart sputter like a car running out of gas, except the memory fueled me. The sound of her yawn snapped me back into the present. With Etta waking, I had no time to fix the wall. Bolting out the window, I took off toward home.

               Another close call. I was getting sloppy. I wasn’t surprised to find Michael waiting in my room when I arrived home.

               “Where have you been? No. Don’t say a word; I know where you’ve been. You can’t keep sneaking off. Rahovart, you have got to stop and let her get on with life.”

                 “I had a bad feeling so I thought I would check it out.” I wasn’t lying.

                  Arches don’t have the ability to lie per say, but the truth isn’t as black and white as one would think. We can only say how we saw it, and I’d done a good job convincing myself I was checking on her safety. At least well enough to use the excuse when questioned about my visits.

              “That’s why she has Guardians. Let them do their job, Rahovart. We need to go. Father has called us to the war room, and we’ve been waiting for you.”

              “How long has he been waiting?” Crap!

                I know Father is all-knowing, but I had hoped at this time of year he might not notice my absence. November and December were always our busiest months as we prepped for our celebrations, but the celebrations on Earth always seemed to draw out Demons in full force. With the big day fast approaching, our meetings in the war room were becoming regular. All the more reason I should have stayed home tonight.

               “Long enough that Father is not happy and growing very impatient,” Michael answered as we both tried walking out of my door at the same time. With a playful nudge, Michael attempted to push me out of the doorway.

              “Oh, you think so?” I laughed as I prodded him with my elbow, harder than he nudged me.

               “Hey, who’s the boss here?” Michael said, with a sly smile as he slid out of the door.

                 I didn’t mind that at every chance he mentioned he was now in charge of the eight Arches. I lost my position as leader when I fell and found myself on the bottom rung of the rank ladder. On the other hand, I became content with fewer responsibilities. It seemed when I had even the slightest power, I messed up, and with my aspiration of waiting for Etta, I couldn’t risk falling again. Plus it afforded me more time to confirm her safety should one of my “bad” feelings arise. I trotted up to Michael, smacking him on the back of the head. “You may be in charge, Brother, but that doesn’t mean you can take me.”

            We made the journey to the war room chasing after each other on the crowded golden streets, slap-boxing like two testosterone-filled teenage boys. I finally got Michael in a headlock when Gabriel walked out of the large arched doorway of the war room.

           “You guys better hurry up and get in here. He’s going to start without you.” Gabriel folded his arms across his chest and gave us the look a mother would give her naughty children.

            Releasing Michael from my perfectly executed headlock, I followed him into the large, round, white room and took my seat at the end of the long white desk. I once sat on the other side of this desk for my Tribunal. The thought of my former state made me shudder in disgust. I had come so close to being damned to Purgatory that day.

           “So glad you finally joined us, Rahovart.” I snapped out of my head when Father showed up in his Angelic form. I flushed with embarrassment as he glanced at me, a hint of frustration in his expression.

            “Now that everyone is here, I want to discuss with you all your duties for today. We have some Catholic priests in Miami, Florida, in need of some reminders of the commandments. Michael and Gabriel, I’m sure you can show them the errors of their ways. Raguel and Ramiel, I need you two in Portage, Michigan, to help an atheist single mother with her drug sickness. Uriel and Saraqael, you’re needed in Rothenberg, Germany, to help a Lutheran suicidal homeless man, and Raphael, I need you in Niles, Ohio, to help a homesick Mormon missionary.”

              These weren’t our usual tasks, but this time of year all ten choirs of Angels were used for more than just their normal duties. We’d all been pulling double duty for two weeks, helping people find and keep their various faiths. As everyone left for their assignments, I remained, curious why I had not been given one. The room was now silent. Father appeared deep in thought as he walked around the blinding white room with his hands behind his back and his eyes on the floor.

             “Rahovart, my son, do you believe I made a mistake?” Father asked, breaking the silence of the room. The question threw me. Father…make a mistake? What is he getting at? Is he doubting his forgiveness of me? Fear of what he might say next swept over me.

               “No, Father.” My voice quavered, revealing the uneasiness he stirred up within me.

           “Sometimes I wonder if when I created you, I gave you too big of a heart.” He stated more to himself than he did me.

             “I’ve tried to be understanding and patient with you, my son. I even looked the other way when you left Etta tokens of your affection, but your constant disobedience and sneaking around is wearing thin. I’m not sure how to get my point across to you. I’ve thought about demoting you, but I do not believe that would be severe enough to do any good.”

             My heart stopped. Severe? Since I’d been back, I’d been desperately trying to prove myself worthy of my place and his forgiveness. Was it all for nothing? Would He strip my wings from me? If I fell again, my soul wouldn’t survive long. I pissed off quite a few Demons in Hell, including Lucifer himself, when I turned sides to rescue Etta from Alastor. Etta? What about Etta? If he damned me now, I’d never have the chance to see her again, let alone have her fall in love with me again. I felt as though invisible hands clasped around my neck, squeezing the air out of my lungs. Bile rose in my throat and black dots flickered before my eyes.

           “Calm down, my son,” Father said, as if sensing my panic. He placed a hand on my shoulder and the sick feeling lifted, the cool air returning to its rightful place in my lungs.

           “I have two solutions, but the decision of which to accept is up to you. There is plenty of time to think about these choices, but remember, whatever you choose, you will be bound to it.”

          “What are the choices, Father?”

          “Your first is an exchange. Swear never to interfere with Etta’s life again, and all you have lost will be restored, including rank and principalities. If and when she returns to Heaven, her memories will be restored. Break the promise at any time for any reason, your soul shall be sent to Purgatory and Etta’s Guardians will be removed from her detail.”

         “Why would you remove her Guardians?”

           “You must learn that your choices not only affect you, but others as well. As for the second choice, go to Earth in human form with no wings, no abilities. Show Etta the same cruelty and disdain as when the Demon Rahovart met her. Etta fell in love with a Demon once. It should be quite interesting to see if she can do it again. She must profess her love without coaxing or prompting. There can be no mention of our deal or what lies beyond the veil, including who you truly are, where you come from. Fail to abide by the rules or rekindle her affections, your days shall be spent on Earth with no recollection of life beyond the veil. But, succeed, and you can return home with the added benefit of continuing your relationship with her. Visit her anytime as long as it does not interfere with work.”

           I listened intently as Father explained my options. Both carried heavy consequences if I failed to abide by their guidelines. He’d given me a life or death decision to make, but I didn’t need time to think. Without thought or question, I gave Father my answer.