After 27 years as a newspaper man, Peter Anderson’s career is slipping away, until he stumbled upon the story of a lifetime. Sent to do a fluff piece about lights in the night sky over Arizona, he discovers far more than he ever expected when he comes upon a mysterious young woman, held prisoner in a basement.
How and why this book was written
How? That’s a good question… a little bit at a time I guess. I had a dream… okay lots of weird and wacky dreams. They come and go. Sometimes horrible gut wrenching night terrors sometimes just odd and funny. I had one of the funny / odd ones the night before and forgot the majority of it by the time I got to tell my wife about it. What I did remember was that it was a bright sunny day. I was driving a 1954 yellow convertible dressed in a crisp, white shirt, tan slacks with shiny black shoes. I was pulling up in front of a store front like a barber shop… an all glass front, top to bottom with words painted on the glass…
I have no idea what the words said but I did remember they formed an arch and that they were blue. Inside were three people… two male and one female. The men stood one to each side as if standing guard over the building or the woman… I couldn’t tell which. The woman, old, wrinkled and dressed in a flimsy red cloth that hid little from the imagination stood at the back of the store stirring a large pot… gumbo or potatoes… something with big chucks and smelled good.
“You’re late,” she said without looking up. “I’m always late” I returned. She smiled at me and then offered me a taste from the pot, dipping into the swirling fog covering it, filling the spoon with tiny, live frogs. “Yikes,” I said, burning my lip as I gulped down a spoon full of frogs, coughing wildly. “It’s all right, I have a cousin,” She chuckled lifting her chin to have one of the men slap me on the back. As he struck me I woke up.
What had stuck with me was that all the cars, all the buildings not to mention the clothes had a 50’s look and feel. That more than anything struck me as odd… not that you find an old woman cooking gumbo or potato soup in the back of a barber shop everyday or that I EVER eat frogs. It felt as if I had been there before… maybe a number of times. I hadn’t thought much about it until a week later someone at work was talking about the lights over Arizona and how angry he ( and I ) were when the Governor of that state brought out a man dressed like a grey.
The ensuing conversation divided all those present into two groups… those that felt the Governor was an ass and those that don’t believe in UFOs at all. The conversation quickly accelerated from that point. It’s interesting to see grown men willing to roll around in the dirt to prove a point. At that point the story jumped into my head… not the word for word but the over all story itself… And as far as WHY I wrote this book… how else would I get the taste of those tiny frogs out of my mouth ??
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About the Author
Tegon Maus lives with his wife in Cherry Valley, a little town in Southern California. As well as writing novels, he has a successful remodeling and contracting business. Find out more about Tegon Maus and his other books at his Website: www.tegonmaus.com and find him on Twitter @TegonMaus and Facebook