Posts Tagged ‘young readers’

Horemheb, crosses mortal boundaries using Seth’s evil magic

Thursday, October 19th, 2017
I’m a retired high school English teacher. A devourer of books growing up, my profession introduced me to writings and authors from
times long past. 



Through my studies and teaching, I fell in love with the Ancient and Medieval Worlds. Now, I hope to inspire young readers and those Young-at-Heart to read more through my Tales and Legends for Reluctant Readers
set in these worlds.
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When 15-year-old Rosa agrees to help the ghost of King Tut find his lost queen Hesena, she doesn’t count on falling for him.
 
Once back in Ancient Egypt, Rosa discovers that finding Hesena if not all she must do and is not as easy as she thought it would be, even though she carries part of the lost queen in her soul. She must also keep out of the reach of the living
Horemheb—who crosses mortal boundaries using Seth’s evil magic—if she is to stay alive to make it back 
 home.

 

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Snippet:
A shout from behind makes me turn. Tut is running after me, but it is not his voice that ignites the terror in my heart. It is mine screaming to hold on to life.
“No. No. NO!”
The force of the explosion flings me through the air like a rag doll. By the time I pick my head up a dense cloud of dust engulfs me. Too late I cover my face.
I’m choking, can’t breathe, can’t see! I’m dying!
Arms encircle my chest pulling me backwards. My legs scrape painfully across the debris- covered granite floor. Another pair of arms lifts my legs. Floating. That’s what it’s like. Dying is like floating on air.
My body touches solid ground. Voices, whispers really, penetrate my clogged brain. I hope this is heaven.
Without warning, I start coughing and gagging. My brain screams at me. “Fight! Breathe!”
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Deborah L Gladwell author of The Adventures of Shy Spy

Friday, June 20th, 2014

Deborah, how has your family background affected your writing, if it has?  

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As a child I had wonderful parents. Both parents spent time with us and made us feel special. I remember as a child my mother reading to my sisters and me. She always made the books come alive for us. I don’t know if she ever knew how we looked forward to her reading to us. My father after work would let us climb up on his lap and practice our reading on him. Not only did dad let us read to him, but he was a terrific storyteller. He could tell some really outrageous, farfetched, tall tales about wrestling alligators with his bare hands or a bear etc. Dad also had a great sense of humor and made up some really funny little songs that he often sang to us (off key).

My father’s mother died a year before I was born. Dad and mom’s home (wherever we were) kind of became the place that (more…)