The Gifted Ones: The Fairytale

Author P.G. Shriver has stopped by today with a teaser from her book The Gifted Ones: The Fairytale.
The cold, dim room saddened the visitor upon entry. Immediately, with a slap, he flipped the light switch up, drew the shades back, and placed the cheerful pot of daisies in the center of the shelf. In that location, the daisies sat in view of the shallowly breathing patient, should she awaken. He knew better, though.
     He seated himself next to the hospital bed, in the uncomfortable wooden chair, the seat cushion so well used little padding remained, lumps forming beneath the green plastic coating. Reaching out, he took a slender, limp, dark hand in his own, and then gently began stroking the forehead and hair of the sleeping beauty before him with his free hand. Tears pooled in his dark eyes while guilt flooded his heart.
     "Momma, I'm here. I know you already know that, and I realize I haven't been here in a while. I haven't exactly been doin' things that would make you proud the past few months, either, and I'm sorry.
     “I hope you don't know too much about that, but I've just been so angry. Just be glad I ain't in jail," he paused, waited, hoped that her eyes would flutter and he would see that disappointing look she would always give him when he transgressed. Her silence pushed him onward in the one-sided discussion.
     "You'll never guess what happened to me this morning," excitement shook his
voice, muffled only slightly by a guilty tone, and flowed on hopefully, making him
sound almost chipper. "I was doin' somethin' I shouldn'ta been doin', one of them
things you wouldn't be proud of? And this girl walked up, ya' know?" he paused
again, this time not for a response from the comatose woman before him, but out
of fear that what he was about to tell her would be overheard, as well as a little
disbelief over what had happened.
     Anyone listening outside might think him crazy when they heard the description of what he saw that morning, what he wanted his mother to know. After raising his eyes to the open door and the shuttered window looking out on an empty hall, he leaned forward, close to her left ear, her light, slow breath slightly warming his cool forehead, "I saw Bree this morning, Momma. Really! I saw her, and she told me I had to come see you. She made it sound really important, Momma... you know... like you might wake up today or somethin'. She knew I hadn't been here in a while, too. Her smile, Momma, man I surely miss her smile. Remember how pretty she smiled, Momma? Remember the sparkle in her eyes? I saw her today, Momma, and it made me so happy, but it made me feel guilty, too." He stopped, stood for a second, leaned forward again, and gripped the slender, brown hand firmer, a sense of urgency filling his heart.
     "Wake up, Momma. You can wake up now; you can come back to me; it's safe, really. I really need you, especially now. At least give me a sign you can hear me, Momma, please?" a tear rolled down his soft, plum cheek, but her eyes were dry, motionless and tightly closed. When no sign came, he scooted back in the chair, folded his hands together, set his elbows on the edge of the bed and bowed his head in silent prayer, something he hadn't done in months, since he had given up on her… on life.

The Gifted Ones: The Fairytale 
P. G. Shriver 
Publisher: Gean Penny 
Pages: 274 
Blurb: Thrown together by the cruelties of a modern day world in which genuine compassion is rare, evil abounds, and goodness is often tainted by the fight to survive, two unusually gifted teenagers discover they are linked by a fairytale told them repeatedly throughout their youth by their late mothers. Destiny awaits them, but first they must locate the others, as the fairytale foretells, to defeat the evil monster who waits and change the lonely world in which they live. Only then will they find peace... and family. 

Author Links: Goodreads Authorcentral Purchase Website Blog Facebook Twitter

  About P. G. Shriver
Born in California, and raised in Minnesota and Texas, P.G. spent her early years writing poetry and winning poetry contests, while escaping the drama in her own childhood by reading great books for children.

Ever since her earliest days, she loved story telling. She wrote numerous short stories in High School and her early college years, continually trying to relive that first experience at the age of seven of seeing her name in print in the local newspaper. P.G. sought her education at the University of Texas, where she studied English, literature, and Education. During the entire process of earning her BA and M.Ed, she never stopped writing and trying to be published. It was during this time that her first children's book No More Stinkbugs! was accepted for publication by Castle Keep Press.

Many of her stories develop from nature. P.G. graduated college and began her career in education, another great world that offered real experiences to humor and delight through children's books. She watched children interact, bringing to surface her own experiences as a child and yet more events to write about. While teaching, she discovered many great books for young people, such as The Watsons Go to Birmingham-1963, Maniac Magee, So. B. It and many more. She is a fan of Dean Koontz novels, too, and loves reading fantasy and paranormal books.

P.G. was married 20 years in March 2012 and has a bright, young daughter who has begun her own college career. She lives on a small farm in Texas with her family and animals. P.G. has experienced great love and loss throughout her life. Those her family has lost have dedications in her books. P.G. has two young adult books published, Dead Perfect and The Gifted Ones: The Fairytale the first book in The Gifted Ones Trilogy.

She also has several children's books written under Gean Penny, her pseudonym. P. G. has since dissolved her contract for her first book with Castle Keep Press and moved the title to her own imprint, Gean Penny Books.    

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Post a Comment

  1. Thanks for hosting The Gifted Ones on your blog today, Ro! Have a beautiful day!

    P.G. Shriver



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