Letters to a Concerned Reader

Letters to a Concerned Reader

I was recently asked to publish this letter from a character in one of my books. He stated he had no way of contacting the individual in question, but wanted to reach out with these sentiments.

To whom it may concern,

It has come to my attention the intensity of your concern for my well-being. Since the attack upon our city, many things have changed within our vainglorious way of life. The refugees – including myself – have barricaded ourselves in an undisclosed location. I must apologize as I cannot reveal this location. Our enemies are still by and large roaming free within our world. I cannot risk a breach in security – even this letter which I have handwritten with much care to you, my dear admirer, must be eradicated of any trace of my whereabouts. Thus, this publishing platform which may be announced anywhere, anytime, from any device.

Despite risk of disclosure, I in full confidence to our cause do reveal that the plans which were laid by our newfound allies proves highly likely to provide a satisfactory ending to this war. My comrades are few, but the enemy shall not have victory over us. We will fight, and we will win – of this I am sure.

My only concern now – if you can call it such. I worry for nothing – is that my proposed partner may have divided thoughts during battle. She pines for that pathetic doctor – disgracefully so. I cannot convince her to focus on the requirements laid upon us. What’s more, it’s grating on my nerves the way in which she fawns over him. He’s old, outdated. She would be far suited to someone more to her status and position.

I leave you with this, devoted reader: Callevale will rise from the ashes and reign victorious.

Until we meet again upon the page.


Prince of Callevale Circle

End correspondance.


Special Post

Friends, NaNoWriMo is upon us…

Tis the season in which we forsake realty, reason, and relative socialism. We writers remain holed up in our huts brewing something magical and mysterious.

If you are participating in National Novel Writing Month 2019, drop me a line on my profile page here.

I will continue updating my blog biweekly as usual, but keep an eye (or both, as often as you can spare them) for Special Posts just like this one in which I record my adventures through what will be my SIXTH NaNoWriMo. My first year in 2013, I wrote Clockwork Dreams and published the following year. What an exciting time!

This year’s story is about a witch – golly is it a problem I write so much about witches? A good witch, a kind witch, a woman who has lived endless time but whose heart still breaks when she is unable to save a missing lamb from her beloved fold.

The Witch’s Treehouse follows Mo as she finally settles down from an adventurous life, only to find her troubles have followed her. When the children of her tiny, innocent village are threatened, she must take up her mantle once again and be the hero. But time and fortune are no longer on her side…

Join me! Let’s play writers!

This has been,



Grace for the Road

I stole this title from another blog. 😏

Do you remember what it was like to be a child? I think some of us have gone so long in this world, we forget sometimes.

I remember feeling content to lie in a field dreaming of clouds.

I remember believing friendships would last forever.

There were days I felt pain, but it was such a minor distraction compared to the prospect of adventure.

Fear didn’t hold me back for long, because I dared to be bold.

I remember having energy for days.

There wasn’t so much worry about wanting or having. Sure, I was greedy like every child, but those were little distractions in the midst of all the fun we gained just breathing and living.

I wasn’t as strong back then.

I believed a lot of lies.

And fell for a lot of mean jokes.

But at least I still saw the potential in others.

My mom was my rock (she still is. Her truth is unwavering.)

Looking back, I feel I haven’t changed at all. Every day there’s a child inside me desiring to stand out, feel special, be brave, and believe in fairies. I still have a knack for putting off chores. I daydream more than most. I can forgive, but I’m terrible at forgetting.

I look back and realize children are just small adults with small perceptions of the world. Sometimes they get it right, and sometimes they get it wrong. The difference between a child and an adult is the child has an adult coaxing them to forgive and grant second chances.

But then again, adults have that too, don’t they? So really, we’re not that different from our younger selves.

Give a little grace along the road.

This has been,

Fanny T. Crispin


Autumn Musings

Is fall really official if you haven’t visited an apple orchard, pumpkin patch, or corn maze yet?


I remember reading about the “Indian Summer” in history class, but now I don’t recall why it was called that. Is a last burst of heat really worthy of being named Summer?


It’s strange how the autumn mood takes over you. It affects people differently, I’ve noticed. I’m usually kicking and screaming until that first wave of cool, crisp weather… Then suddenly happily resign myself to the season.


Do you know, I actually LIKE football when this season hits? I enjoy the excitement and enthusiasm.


What is everyone dressing as for All Hallows Eve?


Interesting to note, what happens on All Hallows DAY and why don’t we celebrate?


This has been,

Fan T. C.


Life in a Nutshell – Cramped and Ornery

When the RN at the Emercency Center pulled out a wicked looking needle and said, “Where do you want it?” I knew we were in trouble.

It’s been about two weeks in which my husband has been dealing with some strange back and leg pain localized in the…uh, *cough* gluteus maximus. He has been seeing a chiropractor for it and stretching at home to alleviate pressure of the muscles on a nerve. Two days ago, he felt really good! We thought he was on the downhill slide and finally kicked this thing.

Tonight, at 3:00AM, it was the worst it’s ever been.

During the evening, we had been stretching GW’s legs, icing, and using topical analgesics trying to offer some relief to the muscle cramping, shooting pain in his asscheek and leg. We thought it subsided, and he went to bed hoping for a good night’s sleep and a better day.

It woke him out of a dead sleep – the tightening, cramping muscles of his butt and calf. The pain was so intense, he couldn’t keep silent. I got up to fetch more ice. We stretched his leg, but nothing seemed to subside the pain. Finally, I looked at my husband and said, “It’s time to go to the ER.”

It wasn’t the first time we had gone to the ER during our almost 4 years together, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. We checked in, and the RN took GW’s blood pressure – the usual routine. Then he starts with the typical questions, “What brings you in tonight? Can you rate your pain? Where is it located?” The RN glances up slyly and asks, “Is this a result of domestic abuse?” He looks at me – all mockery of condemning.

We laugh in surprise – weary chuckles, grateful for the small relief.

I don’t remember his name. I remember reading the nametag, but at 3:00AM, my memory isn’t strong.

This man was on his eighth night shift in a row and still carried on with energy, compassion, and attentiveness toward patients. As he situated us in the room to wait for the doctor, he looked down at my husband stiff as a board upon the bed, and with the deepest sympathy in his eyes said, “You are by far the single most uncomfortable-looking person I’ve seen all night. Can I get you a warm blanket?”

He made our night. Periodically checking in on us or to administer the medication, he remained witty and pleasant. By the way, there was no injected medication. The needle was there all right, complete with impish delight from our RN as he watched our faces go from pale to ghostly. But it turned out to be a liquid syringe taken orally.


GW is on the mend. Slowly but surely, the pressure on the nerve is subsiding. He’s at least able to work since walking seems to help.

We’ll never forget our time in the ER.

God bless the good people of Earth.

This has been,

Fan T. C.