Today it is my pleasure to welcome author Michael Ross and his anthology Twenty-Four Short Stories.
Why can time consumed reliving memories provide enough motivation to carry on? Why keep a diary if you don’t want people to read it? Why let prejudice cloud your judgement? Why do the most simple of smells bring memories back to life? Why is it possible to believe the impossible? What does it feel like to take another person’s life? Will the good deeds we do come back to us in different forms?
These are of some of the questions posed in this imaginative collection of short stories involving, amongst others; a private detective with super powers, a lovable car salesman, a dour public health inspector, a vicar’s daughter with a dark secret, a sculptor with a destructive obsession, a young man with a passion for language, a reluctant public executioner, two sisters whose petty disputes hide something deeper, a job hunter with an unusual skill.
There are so many diverse characters and in this intriguing and imaginative collection of stories everyone has a tale to tell.
A collection of stories that will surely leave its mark on the reader.
I got the chance to ask short story author Michael Ross what single question he tried to answer that he thought people found the most vexing. Here is his surprising answer.
Letters in the Sand is by far the shortest story in the collection and in at I tried to tackle the loneliness of depression; that feeling of being unable to cope, walking away from the world. It probably sounds rather silly but I just want to put my arm around the narrator and ask him if I can help. I undertook a course on suicide awareness and I know how much good can come about just by human touch and interest.
The imagery of the tide wiping away his writing in the sand is poignant but, I thought, necessary.
Sorry to be so damn miserable – I think I am right in saying it is the only sad piece in the book so don’t be put off – please.
About the Author
Born and raised in Bristol, England. I spent my adult life in business, the majority of that time marketing cars. I eventually owned the largest Saab specialist in the world, before a divorce put an end to that part of my life.
This led me to leave Bristol to live halfway up a mountain in the Welsh Valleys; start a part-time six year English Literature course at Bristol University, and attend creative writing classes in Cardiff. My interest in English literature flourished and I have since won several prizes for my short stories. My first book, ‘Twenty Short Stories – Settling a score,” reached No 1 in the Short Stories Best Sellers and is still available, as is “Twenty-One (more) Short Stories,” and “Another Twenty-Two Short Stories.”
Also available are the first 5***** crime thrillers in the Tanner and Pin-up series:
Hand over Fist
Hand in Glove
Plus a 5***** light hearted rom-com “Chasing What’s Already Gone.”
I still live very happily halfway up that mountain in the Welsh Valleys with my wonderful partner, Mari, and our two rescue dogs, Wavy and Wenna.
Find the Author
Buy the Book
The book is free on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Twenty-Four-Short-Stories-anthology-ebook/dp/B09416592Y
Yes, there is a giveaway
The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
This post is part of a tour sponsored by Goddess Fish. Check out all the other tour stops. If you drop by each of these and comment, you will greatly increase your chances of winning.
Enjoy an Excerpt
From my window, I spot my fellow students grouped in excited conversation, circling around, probing each other with thoughts and words, questions and answers. After two years, we know each other well. I know they all wish they could play the violin as well as me, and in my turn, I wish I could be as happy as them. I wind down by running through scales for twenty minutes, and then I hear the old grandfather clock in the hall strike eleven—my other life beckons.
In Chinatown, it is easy to find a restaurant where you can spend £100 a head on a meal. At my parent’s place, six people can eat like kings for less money.
The walk from the rehearsal rooms takes the best part of an hour. I cast aside my musical mantle as I walk, so that by the time I reach Uncle Wong’s, I am prepared for my twice-weekly four-hour shift. This is the only payment my father and mother have ever asked of me. It is nothing.
Two years ago, my parents ushered me into the tiny lounge area above their restaurant, and wordlessly, my mother passed me my gift. My eyes moved to my father and then back to my mother. I could not speak. It was beautiful. Feeling its dark ebony grain, I turned it tentatively through my fingers, tilting, and twisting—gazing, unsure of my breath.
“Baba. Mamma. It’s beautiful, but you cannot afford it.”
“Shush, my son.” The look on my mother’s face said that my joy was all they required.
Michael Ross — we appreciate your sharing your book Twenty-Four Short Stories with us! Best of luck with sales, and with all of your future writing.