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It's the peak of the summer so I am bringing you some refreshment straight from the Canadian glaciers to cool you down. Look for Me Under the Rainbow is at a 67% summer discount! Tuesday, August 18, 2020, 8:00 AM PDT through Tuesday, August 25, 2020, 12:00 AM PDT The whole week the story of Danny, a curious harp seal pup with soft white fur and black innocent eyes, his family, and Helen, an environmentalist and member of a young activist crew of the Rainbow Warriors whose mission is to save animals, is discounted on Amazon. Curious to download your copy? You can do it here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07C7JGMNG/. “Man. . . . Man's a great mystery. We know not where he comes from, nor where he's going. Elusive, like a shadow, he leaves wasteland in his wake. Wasteland and destruction.” “This . . . man, is he dangerous?” “Very dangerous, son. More than anything you can imagine or will ever see in your life. You must try never to meet one. If you do come across man but it's too late to run, be brave. Wait for him. Whatever happens, never, ever turn your back on him. Look him straight in the eye. It's the only way you might save your life. That's the moment when he's most vulnerable and won't harm you. Human beings attack on the sly, behind your back.” “But how can I not meet a man? How do I avoid him?” the pup said, his tone hopeless. “You'll sense him coming. You know, son, man has a special smell. The scent of fear, misfortune, and pain. He feeds on it. You'll recognize him by this scent.” Although Look for Me Under the Rainbow is listed in a program for elementary schools in Croatia as a reading of choice for seventh graders, it is a story for everyone, especially the readers who cherish our beautiful planet and wish to protect its treasures. Thank you for reading Look for Me Under the Rainbow and writing an honest review on Amazon and Goodreads. Thank you for spreading the message. My eBook A World Without Color is at a permanent price of $0.99, while you can download my new novel January River as an eBook for $2.99. BJ Original post: https://www.bernardjan.com/post/look-for-me-under-the-rainbow-summer-discount
For the last time in 2019 my eBook Look for Me Under the Rainbow is at a 67% discount price! Sunday, December 15, 2019, 8:00 AM PST through Sunday, December 22, 2019, 12:00 AM PST If you still don't know what to give as a gift to your beloved ones, this could be a nice opportunity and addition to their library. Make the best use of my Kindle promo week and get the story of a harp seal Danny at a favorable price! Thank you for spreading the word and telling others about it. Even more, thank you for leaving an honest review on Amazon and Goodreads. Don't forget: my other book A World Without Color is at a permanent price of $0.99! “A book filled with heart and love for all living things, I found the book touching and inspirational! The author's sincere character is embedded into each & every word! I highly recommend this book and give it five stars!”—S. Richard, author of Man at 50: A Journey of Crisis, Revelation and Survival! An excerpt from Look for Me Under the Rainbow: One day everything changed. Danny got a brother. Overwhelmed with joy, he completely forgot about the fear he felt when his mother left him alone a little longer than usual. He had begun to think something happened to her. Like maybe the sea current dragged her to the open sea where a killer whale swallowed her up . . . or a shark tore her apart . . . or she got caught in the ice . . . or she met a man. . . . But when he saw her coming with a tiny pup in tow, just opening its eyes, his fears and foreboding dispelled. Danny received Jon with such sincere affection and love, his mother almost burst into tears from happiness and pride. Jon's mother died in labor leaving him alone. And he barely survived. Even Danny's father, in their vicinity at that moment, was slightly bemused by this extraordinary show of affection. But as soon as Danny—feeling his gaze—turned to look at him, his father averted his eyes and disappeared behind a huge chunk of ice. Now she had not one, but two pups to worry about. Danny refused to be weaned and now Jon suckled as if he had not tasted food in his entire life. Still, Danny's mother knew she did the right thing. Her malcontent and mischievous little pup Danny whom she could not let out of sight even for a second, now changed beyond recognition. Not only did he stop pestering her with his interminable questions, he almost stopped his excursions to the sea. His attention focused on Jon, he treated his adopted brother with warmth and kindness. She thought that was amazing. If she weren't a mother who loved Danny more than anything in the world, she might have thought his love for Jon stronger than her own. But that was impossible. She loved Danny as much as it was possible to love anybody. BJ Source: https://bit.ly/2ElM0v2
The sidewalk is stained and uneven. Presumably, the unevenness came first and tumbled the alcohol-filled bellies of the night folk, which in turn caused the stains. The people who surround me right now remind me of those night folk. They yell and stomp to the melody of their own voices. They bump into one another and pour their hearts out to the sky. Their energy is truly intoxicating, it envelops me and soon enough I am doing the same. We sing and we scream, and we cry. But it is not night time. All the bars and the clubs are closed. In fact, the sun shines so bright behind us that I can feel a puddle of sweat gathering on my lower back. We do not sing to music, we do not scream because we are free, and we do not cry for our own selfish reasons. We do it because we no longer have the choice not to. The strings of morality attach themselves to the crowd and move us forward like a winding snake, waiting to strike. Signs painted with pleas are pushed out of the crowd and then pulled back in. Their corners sharper than the ingrown toenail digging through my flesh. It's painful, but it's the kind of pain that is truly nothing. The kind of first world melodrama that manifests itself in different forms at the end of every week. What I am doing is supposed to be bigger than that, bigger than everything. A matter of death or even faster death. These are the words the wind speaks to us on a sweltering day in September. They begin their journey far north where melting glaciers screech profanity as they drown in the ocean below. Their cries are slowly moulded by time and space until they become digestible enough that they can be fed to our fragile egos. A man spits them out onto the sidewalk in front of our conservative representative. The crowd falls silent as this cartoon fool contorts and cusses until his face can no longer support a darker shade of red. In the distance, you can hear our glaciers moan as they accept defeat in this global game of telephone. Congratulations, you have succeeded in looking like an idiot in front of the man who just tried to tell us that solar energy works better in Europe because they are closer to the sun. Behind them, a window reflects a scene back to me. In the middle, two little boys point fingers at one another. Behind them, 600 people stand and watch. Reality TV has gotten quite predictable these days. The crowd seems to agree and slowly people die off until there are only a few of us left. We stand in a circle and listen. I don't know why I stayed, to be honest, I don't completely understand why I walked here in the first place. All I know is that what we did today feels important. We did not walk to get to a destination, we walked so that 50 years from now our kids can walk too. But their bellies will be full, and the moon will be shining and the only thing they will have to worry about is the uneven sidewalks.
The wind roared around the house like an enraged beast, rattling shutters and breaking tree branches as it did. Claws of icy air fought their way inside through the damaged panes and worn-out frame of my old farmhouse window. I curled into a tight ball under my blankets; piled as they were, it still wasn't enough to keep out the cold. I shivered as a particularly strong gust made the entire house groan. Sleep eventually claimed me, despite the bone-deep chill. I dreamt of arctic blizzards. Outside, the night's tempest howled on.
Good Day! Isn't the summer heat exquisite? I am so in love with hot romantic summer nights with a nice glass of chilled wine. It's the best of the summer you can get besides a nice swim somewhere gorgeous here in Canada or as it should be known Kanata. We had a doozie here and the breeze was nice too! I love the smell of sweet air and how the warmth of the sun feels so comforting. I wish everyone had the time to really relax in that. We take our pup out to relax in the sun. He seems to enjoy the sun bathing. We make sure to keep him cool. He's an English-Mexican as we call him because he's taken to tea at four. Yes, my little chihuahua is a great tea lover. Three years ago I left my tea in the grass while I tended to a call and when I returned my full cup of tea was gone and to this day he daily checks my mug for it's contents. He's quite the charmer too. I imagine over the years as I learn more about him, I'll eventually have my story, "The English Mexican". His gentlemanly ways and particulars for beef jerky and humping his mother';s leg at night are supple entertainment for all of us. He's so randy he substitutes me for his pillow! How adorable? But with this small joke he likes to play on me at three o'clock in the morning has everyone laughing at ME! (lol) It's nice to know I'm loved! He really is very sweet. He keeps me busy on good days and comforts me when I'm having a rough day. My pup is very smart and very compassionate towards me. I am very lucky. I hope to write this coming week. if it's not too hot. I don't have air conditioning but manage to keep it a balmy 20 degrees in here. T'is very cool I must say. I just wanted to say Hello to you all and Happy Summer. Woo-hoo!! Julie Ann
During springtime, if you perchance find a dandelion puff poking out of your lawn, pluck it, blow off the white fluff, and make a wish. If the fluff reaches the other side of the road your wish will come true! This is what I believed during my younger years before I discovered that dandelion puffs hold seeds. Who told me this, you ask? It was probably my father; he always told me strange things. For instance, while I sat on the dewy grass of the green lawn and wiggled my toes in the dirt, I often admired a great Border Collie on the lawn parallel to mine (where I so often hoped my dandelion puffs would reach). At this point, my father would remind me that the Collie was a whopping 100 years old, explaining how this was apparent by the way that she hobbled. I personally could not see the limp in the old dog, and I eventually stopped seeing her across the street. I no longer believe the dog lived for 100 years; that is unless my father was speaking in dog years. When I was not dancing in the grass or picking up black ants, I often preoccupied myself with drawing in the basement. At my plastic white table, in my plastic yellow chair, I scribbled up storms. One night I was drawing what I would later call my masterpiece; a collection of multi-coloured scribbles that rendered a previously blank paper without a trace of white. As I doodled beyond my bedtime, my brother, who is four years my senior, eventually saw me and sent me to bed. “What are you working on? You have to go to bed,” said he. “No! It needs to be done!” I retaliated. He waited a short while for me to finish before losing his patience. “What are you even drawing that it takes that long? The Mona Lisa?” “What's that?” I wondered. “It's the most detailed drawing ever. Now go to bed,” he said. Of my early childhood memories, I possess few that are as vivid as this. I wanted to draw my own Mona Lisa after that. Prior to my first day of junior kindergarten, my twin sister and I revelled in spending our time at the local playground, where our jeans stained green and our hands and fingernails grew dirty with sand. It was there where we first met a pair of fraternal twins our age that we befriended. When one has three years of life up their sleeve, anyone is a friend. The tree is a friend, the bee is a friend, and the ants (in particular) were my friends. When I met the pair of twins I perceived that we were destined to be friends until the end of time. Fourteen years later in my senior year of high school my art class travelled to New York City, by bus I must add, and within the class was my sister and one of the fraternal twins. Enraptured by the city we were. On our final night there I endeavoured with my sister, the fraternal twin, and another friend of mine on a trek from our hotel on 39th street to a diner on 34th street, as we had not yet experienced a classic New York diner. It would not have been so great a trek had we not reached 49th street before realizing we were walking the wrong way in the midst of some of the brutal snowfall I had ever walked through, and keep in mind, us Canadians have seen many a snowfall. Upon entering the diner that was, to our astonishment, quite empty on a Saturday night, our noses were pink and dripping, our fingers frosty, and our hair painted white with snowflakes. There we played cards, drank coffee, and recognized the memorable night as the culmination of something great, though we did not specify whether it was the culmination of the trip, high school, our youth, or of time itself. Time stood still that night. We laughed loudly about the smallest of trifles. In my childhood reverie, I did not see the limp in the Collie across the street. I wanted a Mona Lisa of my own and I plucked dandelions, wishing for little things that I no longer remember. I laughed with my sister and the other twins with the same liberty I laughed with in the diner on 34th street. Even now I can live in that reverie so long as I have appreciation for the Universe. I still remember the first cloudless day of 2018. I relish the first soothing sip of coffee after a restless night. My two-hour commute in my final semester of high school became lovely when I recognized it as an opportunity to read and peer out the window at the Broadview Overpass. I now believe the trip to the American diner was the culmination of the trip and the trip alone; perhaps we thought it more than that because we had not entered the childhood reverie for so long. I now frequent that dream. Sometimes small delights are all that exist and we must make do. It may be trying to find the joys; they like to hide and wear masks. Never stop searching! You will find that you love that reverie.