Thanks so much for hosting me, Kelly. I appreciate the opportunity to visit with you and the folks that follow your blog. Some of whom I know, some who I look forward to getting to know.
Today, I’d like to mention a few brief facts about white cats.
White cats are unique in the fact that they’re prone to deafness, especially if they’re blue-eyed. They’re also prone to skin cancer. In some cultures white cats are considered good luck.
But what do white cats have to do with sundials? In general nothing, in this particular story it’s the pet that leads the protagonist, Sarah Miles, to discover the sundial.
He came through time to find her.
As Sarah Miles drives down Eighteenth Street a stranger materializes in front of her car. She throws on her brakes, braces for impact and...drives straight through him. For a brief moment, his voice echoes in her head, "Saura." Then he's gone. Later that day, she discovers the SUNDIAL and her incredible journey through time begins.
“Meghan, don’t try to come through this, you’ll get scratched. I’m getting the pesky cat and coming out.”
When in trouble, Monet was the pesky cat, the damn cat, or the bad cat.
She walked over and bent down to pick him up. A flash of color blinded her. She blinked then squinted. For the first time, she saw that Monet had plopped down beside an old sundial.
“Meghan, come here. You’ve got to see this,” she called out.
Meghan gave an exaggerated sigh. “You said not to come in.”
“I’ve found an old sundial. Or rather Monet has.”
“A real one?” The rustling began again as Meghan started pushing her way through.
“Appears so.” She squatted down to study it. “Looks to be a hundred years old. I bet it’s valuable. You should see the intricate detail. This will make a great piece to paint!”
Words embossed the face of the dial. “There’s writing on it.” She read aloud, “Fate cannot be...drat, moss has grown over the rest of the words.”
A wave of superstitious terror washed over Meghan. Suddenly, the pieces all fell into place. And as the old woman prophesied, she believed.
“Sarah, don’t. Get out of there now. Please, Sarah, please,” she cried, her teeth chattering.
“What’s wrong with you?
“There’s actually heat radiating from it. Surprising, it’s not that warm out.”
“Sarah, please, don’t you remember what the old lady said?” She fought her way through the overgrowth, barely feeling the scratches a thorny branch left on her face or the warm blood trickling down her cheek. The thicket conspired to keep her out.
Tears streamed down her face as she pushed at the bracken separating herself and her aunt.
She broke through just as Sarah reached down to brush the moss from the sundial.
“No, Sarah, no,” she screamed.
Later her mind would play the scene over again in slow motion: Sarah’s hand as it reached out; Monet jumping playfully at her fingers, bringing them both in touch with the sundial; the boom; the jagged streak of white; and then nothing. They were gone, leaving Meghan alone in the clearing with the sundial.
Sundial is on sale for .99 September 19-25 at Amazon.
Sandra writes YA Fantasy, Romance, and Metaphysical Nonfiction. She lives in sunny North Carolina with her husband, a brood of critters and an occasional foster cat. The last animal member of the family, a kitten, came hurtling out of the woods in southern Illinois to land at her feet. He made the trek back to North Carolina, with her and her husband, and wasted no time settling into the household.
Although shopping is high on the list, her greatest pleasure is sitting on her porch, listening to the birds, sipping coffee or a latte and enjoying a good book. She's a vegetarian and a Muay Thai enthusiast.