Welcome to “THE SLEEPING ONE” Blog Tour! @KarlJMorgan #4WillsPub #RRBC

  • Today, I am priviledged to host author, Karl J Morgan as part of The Sleeping One blog tour.

I hope you enjoy the following as much as I did.

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This excerpt from Chapter One of Carl Prescott and The Sleeping One begins at Carl’s San Diego school. Headmaster Dorchester of the Thorndike Academic Institution is meeting with the three friends in their school cafeteria. Two skunks have wandered onto school property and raised a commotion. As we join them, Dorchester is addressing the students:

“Earlier, Carl mentioned that a large number of animals seemed to be watching and following your bus to school. That could be a random happenstance or not. Our little experiment will have each of you venture out onto the patio. Then, we will see if or how those creatures react to you and vice-versa. Most likely, the skunks will continue to forage for food. If they behave in some other fashion, we will learn. Now, Carl, since you mentioned the animals watching the bus, please go first.”

“What if they spray me?”

“Carl, skunks are not aggressive animals. If they are near the doors where you will exit, do not go. If they start to move toward you, just come back inside. Believe me, I do not want to explain to any of your parents how you got sprayed by a skunk.” He stood. “Let us all walk over to the doors so we can review the results.”

Soon, they were ready. Carl had his hand on the door handle. The two skunks were on the far side of the patio eating some potato chips that had fallen to the floor during the rapid exit by the students. “Okay, Carl,” Dorchester said.

Carl opened the door and stepped outside. The skunks did not notice him and kept eating. He took two steps toward them and cleared his throat. The skunks froze for a moment. “Hi,” Carl said softly. The animals turned to face him. “It’s not safe for you here.” The skunks stood up on their hind legs. Dorchester was about to open the door and call Carl back inside when the skunks bent over as though bowing to Carl. They stood again. Not sure what else to do, Carl bowed to the skunks, who immediately started to forage again. Bewildered and confused, Carl walked back into the cafeteria. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life,” he gasped. “Did that really happen? Did any of you see that?”

“That sure was freaky!” Burt exclaimed. Grace had turned to face the other way.

Dorchester was busily writing down notes. Without looking up from his paper, he said, “Your turn, Burt.”

Burt stepped outside. The skunks immediately noticed him. He took two steps forward and then said, “What’s up, skunks?”

The two animals stared at him and then glanced at each other. Then they began to chase each other around in a tight circle. After a few seconds, they separated and ran around the perimeter of the patio. Finally, the two converged on Burt’s left and right sides. Both climbed up his trousers, shirt, and stopped on top of his head. After a couple of seconds, they raced back down his front and back and then fled back to the same pile of food they had been eating. Burt could feel Dorchester’s hand on his upper arm, pulling him back inside. The headmaster started writing again, while Grace and Carl stared at Burt.

“That was amazing!” Grace said with a laugh.

Burt was trembling. “I thought I’d pee my pants.”

“Those skunks must be from a circus,” Carl replied.

“It’s your turn, Grace.”

“I’m not sure I should, Headmaster. What if I’m the freak?”

Dorchester patted her shoulder. “My dear, you saw what happened with the others. None of that was normal. In fact, I’ve never seen what occurred with Burt here. It will be okay.”

She walked outside. The skunks noticed her and stood on their hind legs. Grace walked over to the nearest table and sat. Unsure what to do, she sighed heavily and looked down. The animals hurried over, jumped up onto the table, and sat facing her. One reached out a paw and touched her hand. Grace looked up and the skunk removed its paw. “Hi! You know, you two don’t smell very good.” The skunks looked at each other and then shrugged their shoulders. Grace giggled. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Each of the skunks smiled and nodded. “You know it’s really dangerous for you here. Animal Control is coming and they might kill you.” The animals looked at each other again. “Do you know how to find your way home?” They nodded. “Please go there now before they come for you.” Each of the animals stood on their hind legs and licked her cheek. Then the two hurried away.

The other three rushed out of the cafeteria. “Grace, that was so awesome.” Carl exclaimed.

“Did they actually kiss you?” Burt asked.

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Karl Morgan Bio

With a long career in finance and as author of almost twenty books, I like to say that words and numbers are my life.

I have had a lifelong fascination with stories in the science fiction and fantasy genres, whether it was the Tom Swift novels by Victor Appleton I read as a young boy, or television like Lost in Space and Star Trek. More recently, I have devoured film series like Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Lord of the Rings. That fascination is combined with a keen interest in cosmology, astrophysics, quantum physics, and spirituality.

That quirky combination along with the fantasy genre allows me to craft stories that reinforce the importance of family, friendship, and love. The protagonists must overcome incredible danger and challenges to survive their journeys, but eventually end up on top. It goes without saying that as a finance guy, my life has been less action-packed than my characters (thank goodness).

With Carl Prescott and The Sleeping One, I ventured back to comfortable territory. Many of my stories reinforce our direct connection to the Divine. While that is an element of this story, the sequels feature that relationship to a much greater extent. That element in my stories is an homage to what I believe really matters in this life.

I am the son of an Air Force pilot and as such, I have lived in many places, never for more than four years at a time. Thankfully, as an adult, I have lived in Chula Vista, CA for the past thirty-seven years. I met and married Aida, the love of my life, thirty years ago. Our grown children have made us grandparents four times over. It is a blessing to be around such wonderful parents and children.

My new goal is life is my stories. I hope you can follow me on this new adventure.

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Karl Morgan Social Media and Contact Links:

Book on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07L7HHNB3

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/karlmorganauthor

Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Karl-Morgan/e/B00A57RWPO

Website/Blog: http://www.karljmorgan.com

Twitter handle: @karljmorgan

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To follow along with the rest of the tour, please visit the author’s tour page on the 4WillsPublishing site. If you’d like to book your own blog tour and have your book promoted in similar grand fashion, please click HERE.

Lastly, Karl is a member of the best book club ever – RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB #RRBC! If you’re looking for amazing support as an author, or if you simply love books, JOIN US! We’d love to have you!
Thanks for supporting this author and his work!

Guest Post by Author Paul DeBlassie III, Visionary Fiction and the Soul Blog Tour

This is a very insightful post from #RRBC author, Paul DeBlassie III. I was impressed by it, so I thought I would share. I hope you enjoy it.

Stephen Geez Blog

Welcome to the

Visionary Fiction and the Soul Blog Tour




Goddess of the Wild Thing


The Unholy


Does being a psychotherapist inform your writing of visionary fiction?

In doing depth psychotherapy with patients in emotional and spiritual crisis, I listen to their stories. They are dramatic thrillers in their own right. People go through rough stuff. The wounds and bruises we sustain in life often come out of action-packed encounters with people. We trusted them. We never thought that what happened would happen. We’re wounded and bruised and want to give up. That’s when it’s time to read a story, a terrific story that takes time to get through because it takes thought to get through.

At the end of one patient’s treatment, they related, “You know I didn’t think I’d ever had a chance in life. I was beaten down as a kid…

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I Have That Same Dream… #RRBC #RWISA

A great post from Nonnie Jules, president of Rave Reviews Book Club. Please read on.

Watch Nonnie Write!

Today is the day that we celebrate that great man, who, with perfect eloquence made us focus on the fact that “all men are created equal.”

I could very easily just post the words to that famous “I HAVE A DREAM…” speech, but, I think that you will feel it more deeply, if I share with you those words, via his most powerful delivery.

And I’m also sharing the actual speech because, believe it or not, some have never even heard of it before.


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#RRBCSpotlightAuthor #RRBC Mary Adler (@MAAdlerwrites)

I had to share this post. As willing staff to 10 furry little dictators, all rescues, I have to spread the word about any organization that is working to save God’s little lost ones.

Shirley Harris-Slaughter

It is my pleasure to welcome Mary Adler to my blog. Check out Mary’s book Shadowed By Death.” Lets give her our full support by following her tour.


Follow your heart.
See where it leads you. And start right there, wherever that may be. Set your
compassion ablaze. Christi Camblor, DVM

I met
Christi almost two years ago, when I accidentally adopted a puppy from Mexico
through her rescue, Compassion without
. I didn’t want to raise a puppy and I really didn’t want a dog with
issues, but life happened and our home that was filled with grief because of
the loss of our AndyPandy suddenly knew moments of joy and laughter again.

I hoped
that since Charlie was only weeks old when brought to the shelter, that she
would have escaped the harshness of life on the streets in…

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Please Welcome #RRBC Spotlight Author, Mary Adler

It’s my great pleasure to host #RRBC and #RWISA author, Mary Adler. Below, you will find a touching piece that tells how one writer keeps the loved ones who have passed on alive in her world(s).

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Everyone from my childhood family is gone. No aunts, uncles, parents or grandparents. When my last aunt died, I realized there was no one in the world who remembered me as a child. The blonde curls, untying the chickens who wrecked my grandmother’s dining room instead of escaping, the precocious words, the broken bones. No one knew how old women in head scarves reminded me of Little Annie Rooney’s Mrs. Meany and kept me glued to my grandmother’s leg, or why I wouldn’t go out when there was a full moon. Of course, there is no one to remember that they had told me the man in the moon ate little girls with blonde hair. Look, see how he’s following you?

When my grandmother died, she took with her the way she saw me, the way I loved to be seen. When Aunt Jane died, she took with her the joy of remembering together our journey to New York or going for car rides on sweltering Pittsburgh nights when we couldn’t sleep.

Each death diminished my life, because although I had my memories, I had no one left to remember them with. I felt as if I had been left behind, alone, while they were all together somewhere, laughing and talking and looking at each other with the love and understanding that grew from years and years of shared joys and sorrows.

I have my own family. Husband, children, their spouses, grandchildren. And my friends. And my dogs. And the memories we have all made together. My children still exist in my world as the ten-year old gymnast, the sixteen-year old world traveler, the six-year old builder of complex cities and as each of the other people they have been through their lives. Really exist. Alive in my memory at a particular place and time, and I cherish all the children they are.

I have found a way to be with the people who are gone. They live in the characters and situations in my mystery novels. When I write a scene about Mrs. Forgione in the kitchen, about her best friend Edna, about Angelo and Harry, I am with my family again, cooking and laughing and sharing stories. I can almost smell the garlic.

When I write, I am with them. Telling them how deeply loved and missed they are, showing the world their kindness and playfulness, their compassion and joy. Sharing with my readers the world I knew when I was a child.

I wish they could read the books. I wish they could know how deeply loved and missed they are. I wish I could thank them for the wealth of stories they told me, for giving me a lens to see the world through.

Actually, I think they do know. Somehow, somewhere in the vast universe.

What do you think? Can you go home again?

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Follow Mary online:

Twitter – @MAAdlerwrites

Facebook – https://maryadlerwrites.com/

Author Bio:

Mary Adler was an attorney and dean at CWRU School of Medicine. She escaped the ivory tower for the much gentler world of World War II and the adventures of homicide detective Oliver Wright and his German shepherd, Harley. She lives with her family in Sebastopol, California, where she creates garden habitats for birds and bees and butterflies. She is active in dog rescue and does canine scent work with her brilliant dogs — the brains of the team — and loves all things Italian.

Rhani and Friends

I apologize for not being active with my blog over the last few weeks. I had a hectic holiday season, and I’m also trying to finish up #WinterOfTheDrill. Not that any of this is an excuse, it’s just what happened.

As some of you know, I have been doing a Podcast with my friend,
GE Upshaw.
Tonight, at 7:30 PST, we will be adding a new show, Rhani and friends. This will be my time to talk with writers and other artists about what makes them tick. My first guest will be newly published poet, Forrest Stepnowski.

We would love it if you would tune in and hear his thoughts on writing and publishing his first book. 😃


Thank you so much for taking the time to read this post. Now that the holidays are over, I plan to be more active with my blog.

Contact Info

Email: rhanidchae@gmail.com

Twitter: @rhanidchae @rhanidchaaebooks

Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/rhanidchaeauthor/