Sunday, March 22, 2020

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Out of the Blue by Stephanie Rose Bird - Book Blitz + Giveaway



Out of the Blue

Black and Blues

Book One

Stephanie Rose Bird

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy

Publisher: One Odd Bird Press

Date of Publication: March 22, 2020
ASIN: B084SNJ8K2
Word Count: 58,500 words

Formats available: E-Book and Paperback


Cover Artist: Najla Qamber
Designs and Qamber Kids


Tagline: Out of the Blue is a young-adult, coming-of-age novel that seamlessly bridges elements of African American folklore and spirituality with Greek mythology.

Book Description:


When two worlds collide, only one girl can unravel the mythical threads and save her
father’s life. . .

Mobile, Alabama, 1947


Bobby “The Shrimp Man” Daniels, a
blues singer and shrimper from Mobile, lies unconscious in a hospital bed,
suffering from a mysterious illness. His daughter Tina, a sheltered sixteen
year old, torn between her love for her father, and her disappointment in his
relationship with Kyane, his much younger mistress, is determined to heal her
father, no matter the cost.


Kyane isn’t just a mistress,
she’s a Siren, obsessed with her overwhelming desire to become human and merge
her otherworldly singing voice with Bobby’s incredible music. She’ll do
anything to get what she wants, annihilating anything, and anyone who stands in
her way.


In order to save her father, Tina
will have to travel to the Kyane’s world, a world of strange and magical
creatures, and figure out how to wrestle his soul from  the Siren’s control. As Tina’s magical
journey twists and turns, she’ll learn what it means to be a woman and what it
means to save not only her father, but herself.


Out of the Blue is a young-adult,
coming-of-age novel that seamlessly bridges elements of African American
folklore and spirituality and Greek mythology.






Chapter 5 Aello and the Harpies


Walking along,
well, hobbling really, the Sirens are in their own little world. Traipsing down
the fragrant and colorful path, they leave me alone. I watch them head into the
woods down a narrowing path, flanked by wildflowers of every description. They
begin to chatter away, with great excitement. The trio busy themselves, going
back and forth about who knows what about whom. At least a couple of minutes
pass by this way. The scent and delicate beauty of the woods is enchanting, and
their words weave in and out of the powerful perfume kicked up by swaying
leaves and blooms.

I’m at a loss.
There ain’t no way I can understand what they’re saying anyhow because it’s in
a foreign tongue. What I can tell is that one of them said just a few words and
her voice goes to a higher pitch as she ends.

She’s asking a
question.

The others
disagree or have their own ideas. . . and so it goes.

Before I tire
from trying to make out what they’re saying, my mind circles back to the odd
but real situation where I find myself. I’ve left my Daddy alone to fend for
himself. What of Rudy and Ruby? I didn’t know when or how I’d get back to them.

As much as I
hate what Daddy gone and did, running off, with that woman-child-bird thing,
who I now know isn’t even human, but a Siren, I’m kind of doing the same thing.
Instead of being with one of them, I’m with three.

There’s
something about these Sirens. They make me feel ill-at ease. Mama wouldn’t like
me being with them. No, not at all. These creatures are certainly not of this
earth. Never, and I do mean that, have I felt such a longing and desire to hear
singing. Not even at church with the best of the choir singers.

The trio’s
songs, they touch me way down deep in my soul. Daddy’s songs do that too but he
is at a disadvantage, for with him there is only one voice, as deep and mellow
as it is. Now, with these creatures, they have themselves and then something
else, too, from far beyond my reach or understanding. Just as their cloaks left
me wondering what’s beneath, the meaning of their haunting songs is also a
complete mystery.

Like a paper
airplane, their voices appear, seemingly out of nowhere and pierce straight
through my thoughts, precise as an arrow. Soul-soothing sounds—the ones I’ve
begun to crave

with everything I am—returned.
The trio begin singing, hitting impossibly high notes that set my heart a
pumping, then lows that stir the darkest depths of my soul. They hit harmonies
I could’ve only imagined possible before this afternoon. They could do this
whenever and from whatever distance they chose.

For once in my
life, I am complete. Full and satisfied, my heart is jam-packed with a
tremendous, inexplicable joy. Before today, I wouldn’t have thought any of this
could be possible. I begin to shutter and shake behind them. After all, the
only way I knew of to show true joy was to get happy. I’d gone into this place
of ecstasy a few other times at our church, following the elder’s ways of
rhythmically jumping forward and backwards until you land in a kind of bliss.
It isn’t just the elders, Mama does it and quite regularly, too.

But this is
different.

I don’t realize
it until it’s too late. My shuffles, back and forth and back again create a
distance between us. You could call it a gap.

In that happy
state I’ve worked myself up and into, my eyes are barely open. Intruding into
my new reality comes a sharp and insistent wind. I feel it, and see it. It
picks up the cloak and shawls that the Sirens wear, probably to cover whatever
it is that they walk on, causing them to hobble so.

Coming back into
myself, the desire to see what’s beneath those cloaks remains strong. It could
prove to be a key to understanding what these things are and what the Siren,
who has entranced Daddy so, is made of. I’m pretty sure it isn’t the same flesh
and blood and bone as the rest of us.

I’ve been
straining so hard to see, I never even notice the wind has picked up even more
steam. The sky darkens, turning nearly to the black of night, though it was
been bright and sunny just a few moments ago. Now it’s as though I’m back home
in Alabama, taken by surprise by a violent spring storm, maybe even one of our
dreaded hurricanes.

A storm must be
blowing in, off the sea.

A very large
shadow lingers overhead. I look up and get the shock of my life. Without
warning, a most painful scratch gouges my upper back. I can hear whatever did
it tearing straight through my blouse. Afterwards a sharp, stabbing pain,
spreads all the way down to my behind.

The only thing I
can compare it to is a fish being gutted.

How much more am
I supposed to take?

Heart pounding,
and running as fast as possible, I pump my legs, trying to catch up to the
trio. Instead of narrowing, the gap between us has grown to an impossible
length. The Siren’s haunting song vanishes completely. My back is wet with
sticky blood and sweat, causing my stiff cotton blouse to stick to it, bringing
about more irritation. My mind is usually filled up with day-to-day concerns,
but I got to tell you, fear was sweeping over me just like the cruel, swiftly
moving northern wind. Sweating and bleeding, panic takes over.

Looking up
again, I can see more clearly. It ain’t just fear overtaking me. It’s a
gigantic beast—part woman, from all appearances and part beast—looking much
like a vulture but larger. This odd creature seems to enjoy toying with me by
swooping in ever closer. Apparently, this monster has scratched me pretty hard
but looking at it, I imagine it can get much worse.

She is the
storm.

The odor coming
from it, gets caught up in fierce winds. Rotten eggs, the foulest of chicken,
left too long in the icebox? I get the dry heaves and then retch.

I bend over from
the waist. Its smell nearly knocks me over.

What would win
out, fear or the great stench?

This is not the
time or place for such thinking, Tina. You have to pull yourself from getting
happy, and run like you never have before.

Why doesn’t the
trio look back? Is this beast working with them? Through them?

What’s
happening?

Another blast of
foul air that smells like a trash heap, sweltering under the hot southern sun,
assaults my nose. A hair-raising wind forces the foulness deeper into my lungs
until I can taste the stench in the back of my throat. It picks up force,
nearly lifting me up off the ground. That’s when the nasty-smelling beast
swoops in. I run as fast as my legs can go, ducking and dodging all the while.
In the end, it catches me. The thing grabs me up and into the air by the scruff
of my neck.

Like a kitten in
its mother’s mouth, I dangle in mid-air. Maybe it’s more akin to being wet
clothing flapping about on a taught clothesline because I’m out of control with
fear. My mind is getting fuzzy. I realized that, rather than having images
flood into my confused mind, I must come to grips with being clutched up in the
air by a huge pair of talons. The reality rests with me traveling along with an
unfamiliar beast, kicking and screaming all the while. Thank God, after a short
distance it comes close to the earth and drops me. I doubt my feeble attempts
at getting free have anything to do with it. Lying on the ground I make the
mistake of halfway looking up, gazing upon the beast in an attempt to figure it
out.

Please Lord,
don’t let it see me looking and decide to catch me up, once more.

My nose already
tells me a-plenty. The beast stinks worse than any outhouse in town and I’m not
talking an outhouse where the people put lime on it properly, if you know what
I mean. If not, let’s just say, it has about it the most horrible smell you can
think of. It reminds me of the time my favorite rabbit, Henry died. I didn’t
have the heart to bury him. I waited weeks. Oh how

Henry wreaked as
bugs crawled in and out of him. Finally, I took him to the seaside on a small
gardening shovel. I released him into what I imagined to be eagerly waiting
waters. This smell of the beast, it too has the horrible smell of death I
experienced with my beloved Henry.

Whatever the
thing is, a terrible wind either escapes from the beast or carries it around.

The wind and
beast travel as one. The strange island of Athemoessa is sho’ nuff a mystery.
Seems like the wind must’ve been an important part of this beast. Along with
the wind comes its odor.

Farts from the
heavens.

It’s all I can
do to keep from retching up whatever’s still left in my belly. I told you about
the sunny sky I encountered when I first arrived on the shore, once leaving the
cave. In a short time that same kind of sky goes grey and then black, as I tilt
my chin up. That’s because the monster is enormous, its body is much taller
than mine. With its wings flapping about, it’s even larger than I could’ve
imagined.

It wasn’t
pleasant looking like the trio of sirens but it did bear a strange sort of
resemblance to them.

What kind of
world have I landed upon?

Are beasts
allowed to mate with humans on Athemoessa? Is that how these bird-women, called
Sirens, were made?

The creature is
partly an old woman, with the lower part being an extremely large, powerful
bird—probably five feet tall and ten feet wide from one wing tip to another. I
can’t even imagined it back in the real world. It’s too outrageous, too absurd.
This thing was bulky, smelly, and bald, save for a wispy ring of feathery grey
hairs—not a dainty sort of graceful bird, light on its feet, like my rescuers.
When I look closer, I feel another bubble of fear rise up in the back of my
throat.

The creature’s talons
sprouted from human feet.

It’s clear. I’ve
met my match. More than my match.

Already tired to
the bone and breathless from the unplanned journey here, there are yet more to
come. Weary from the shocks I’ve been presented with in the strange new world,
I fear I have nothing left to fight with, plus, I’m losing blood.

Wrestling in my
mind with all the things that could, would or should be, I don’t even notice
that the trio has completely vanished, as though in some magic act at the
Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus—a poof and then off they go
into thin air. All that’s left of them is the faint echo of their thrilling
song, so faint, it well could be a figment of my feeble imagination, or a
whisper between cousins under the covers at night. Still, just that little bit
of it, makes my heart soar.

Did they ever
really exist?


I must believe
in them, for to believe is to stay sane, and you have to stay sane so that you
can get back to Daddy, and Mama, and those bothersome twins.

Oh. Good. Lord.
Did the Sirens rescue me from the sea so that they could use me as feed for
this beast? Maybe that’s how they keep it away from their kind. I bet they
thrive on bringing human offerings to soothe the hideous, smelly, winged-woman
beast.

Despite the
heat, I shivered.

While I’m busy
letting my thoughts run all over the place, it just swoops in, headed down
towards me, all over again. I come upon a thick log, with that and the sheer
force of the wind it travels with, to say nothing of the wretched smell, I
crash down hard on my left side. The force of the fall might possibly have
broken my arm, or even worse, my ribs. While I didn’t hear a snap or crunch,
the pain comes from somewhere out of this world. I could’ve peed myself, right
then and there. I want to scream but the idea that screaming would attract more
of these blood thirsty demons, wins over.

The overwhelming
fear mixes in with the worse pain I’ve experienced in my fifteen years, and it
overtakes me. My arm throbs and doesn’t want to move, no matter how many times
I try to make it act right.

I’m totally
alone, and terrified.

This beast is
more frightening than anything I’ve ever seen—even my first time seeing the
Siren materialize from out of a live oak.

No, that image
can’t even compare.

The Siren is
frightening in her way and even seems to bear a feeling of ill-will. Still, she
didn’t harm my body. When I left her, I remained whole, though I got to
traveling through space and time, ending up in this here strange place.

This here beast
tells a full story just by how it travels about and smells. Like the trio, the
Siren that is probably kin to them, and the Mermaid that brought me to this
ghastly island, this beast doesn’t come from the world I know. In fact, I’ve
got to say it must have come straight out of the bowels of hell.
Swap!
Slash!

It hits me again
full force, while my mind meanders. I try to corral my thoughts, but I’m
bone-tired and so very, very afraid. This time it grazes my flesh with its
razor-sharp beak. With hands flailing about, I try to fight it off or at the
very least, shield myself from its pecks. Its beak is like a gigantic pair of
scissors. I have to overcome my fears and get away from it or sho’ ‘nuff, I
will meet up with death. No one will know where I’ve been. Having abandoned my
family in their time of need, I’ll be a disgrace. My name will never be
uttered, only whispered in shame.

This truly
saddens me.

Daddy might not
be perfect, but he’s mine, and I don’t ever want to be a disappointment to him.

Rather than
continuing to flail about aimlessly, I pull myself from the ground, paying no
mind to the blood droplets moving down my back or dripping down my chest, from
my busted- up lip. Crawling to the side of the path, I find me a hefty bit of
wood and I grab it up with my good arm, while the beast perches high in a tree
doing what seems to be scheming on what to do next. I grasp a fallen,
moss-covered branch, easy enough to lift, even one-sided. This chore keeps my
mind, however temporarily, off my pains from the open gashes.

Next time, when
that devil-beast approaches, I’ll be ready.


I’m telling you
all this as though hours went by, between my thoughts and the beast’s moves,
but nothing is further from the truth. The battle is almost constant. I fall,
get up, brush myself off one-armed, and find a weapon, only to be picked up,
dropped and pecked by the hideous monster once more. In the end I give up. I’m
already weak from my journey deep into the sea and then finally swimming to
shore at Athemoessa.

Why is all this
happening to me?

That is my very
last thought before its wing delivers such a powerful blow, it knocks me out.
The world went to black.

Sometime later,
I awaken firmly held by its two, piercing talons, carrying me who knows where.

For God’s sake.
Enough of this bull shit.

No longer under
the spell of the trio of Sirens, a new desire sweeps over me. Fear, my stalwart
friend, leaves me. In its place sprouts the will to survive. My will and desire
for survival will have to be enough to outwit the evil bird-woman. Then I can
return to my beloved home and family back in Alabama.

Alabama wasn’t
perfect, but it ‘shore beat the hell out of this damn place.

Instead of
fighting the bird, I try to relax my shoulders. We fly high over the spindly
trees of the island forest. Beneath them I see colorful flecks from thick
patches of flowers. Down below, smoldering fires through off sparks like the
lightning bugs back home. I wonder if the fires are warming the oddball
creatures thriving on Athemoessa during the night. Fighting the bird-woman can
only be harmful. If I fall from this height, I’ll most certainly perish even
quicker than she had plans. As it stands, my purpose, as it relates to this
stinking creature, remains unbeknownst to me, so with it I fly.

***


From a thick
fog, Ligeia, Parthenope and Thelxiepeia appear.

 “Harpy! You evil Harpy, Aellopus!” They shout,
dragging out every part of the strange name.

“Aello, put the
girl down,” Thelxiepeia shouts up at us.

No reaction. The
talons don’t loosen and we don’t return to the ground.

Parthenope,
Thelxiepeia and Ligeia meld their voices together and direct the united sound
skyward like a fire ball, toward what I’d just learned was a Harpy, nicknamed
Aello.

“Please help
me,” I scream down to them.

Almost hissing,
Parthenope, Ligeia and Thelxiepeia merge their voices together into one sound.
The buttery result is thrown skyward once again.

“Down, down,
down, down,” the trio of Sirens chant, evenly, if not with a hint of threat, in
a sing-song voice filled with woe that raises awe within me, though they aren’t
directing their
words towards me.

“Wind-foot fool,
wind-foot fool, wind-foot fool,” the Sirens chide, in a chant that is as
alluring as it is frightening.

Aello slows her
gigantic wings almost to a full stop. I wonder what she might do next.

Then, like the
rest of us, she’s so taken with the haunting, enchanting harmonies that
Parthenope, Thelxiepeia, and Ligeia utter, that she loosens her grip on me
almost immediately.

I don’t know
whether to be happy, relieved or scared half out of my wits. Guess you could
say, I’m in a state that’s a mixing of all three emotions, all at once.
Falling.  . . I am falling. Can this day get any worse?

Aello must have
decided it didn’t want anything more to do with me, or perhaps this is exactly
what it wanted to do all along--let me fall.
Who knows?

Sweet Jesus,
save me.

I’m falling and
as I do, I’m greeted by the salty brininess of the sea. I’m being returned,
from whence I came.

Aello? That
Harpy has no sense in her thick ‘ole head, except to harm me. When I fall from
her talons, a torrent of wind pushes me violently down into the sea. I can’t
even begin to guess how deep I went. The very action of it knocked all the air
from my lungs and all the sense from my brain.

I surface
coughing and spluttering water from my mouth. I’m snatched up and plunged back
into the water. I feel pain once again, this time from salt water gushing into
my open wounds. Nevertheless, a warmth spreads out and washes over me, making
me relaxed, at once. Quicker than a wink, more of her disgusting kind arrived.

Here to help or
cause more harm?

I sink into the
turquoise waters, made choppy by a gathering of Harpies overhead.

Harpies don’t
give up easily. They also gather together like a gaggle of geese, though
instead of migrating anywhere in particular, they just stir up trouble wherever
they decide to go. The wind they kick up is something so fierce that I think
for sure I’ll drown. That’s just how violent the sea is rocking me backwards
and forward in their wake.

Just this
morning, when I was standing in Daddy’s room, I wouldn’t have believed there
was a place like this anywhere on Earth, or anyplace else, but a girl can get
used to strange, and indeed, I had.

Instinct—thank
God—kicks in, and reminds me to hold my breath, saving my lungs from being
flooded by the salty water. Strangely enough, I relax. Relaxed as I was, it is
almost as though I was in a deep-sea boat riding the wind-swept waters that
would have otherwise threatened to take my life.

Nevertheless,
down and down into the warm turquoise water I go. It’s like being on the
world’s fastest merry-go-round. My head begins to swirl from all the motion, so
I clench my eyes tightly shut and hope that gives me some relief.

No time to
think, let alone pray, I’m just like a stone, caught up in a tornado, thrown
from side to side, all the while dropping lower and lower down. As a stone, I’m
swirling yet plunging. The last time I plunged, I was at least saved by a
fast-acting Mermaid. With no promise of a Mermaid to save me, this time I’m
plunging to what will probably be the thing we all dread--a painful and lonely,
violent death.

***

I’m figuring
this is how things work around Athemoessa. After what seemed like forever, and
a day what seems impossible happens. The Mermaid returns. She pushes my body
with her head, and brings me back up to the surface, swiftly thumping her tail.
The cave where I find myself is magnificent but at the same time, it’s tricky
to make your way through it, and back to the sea. Inside, it shines and
glitters like the rarest of jewels. Narrow, moist and the deepest blue- green
you can imagine, it’s just about more than I can take, its beauty, I mean, yet
strangely it’s also just right. You see, I always did love being in and near
the water. That’s why I never want to leave the Gulf Region that I call home.

I love this
Mermaid.

With her sweet
manner, she’s almost like an angel, and she has the voice to match.

Are all the
creatures musical? Can she sing like Thelxiepeia, Parthenope and Ligeia?

Reappearing from
the depths, this time she was riding a graceful dolphin. With a fresh wave of
warm water, the two came close enough to touch. Grabbing my hand gently but
firmly the Mermaid pulls me toward her and the dolphin.

I ain’t never
thought about riding no sea creature. I’ve ridden me a horse, mule and donkey,
and that’s it. I know enough to have the good sense to let my body relax and go
along with how the animal moves. I also imagine the journey ahead is going to
be long, with many twists and turns because that’s how I got here. It be best
if I want to live, and believe you me, I do, I’ve got to mount the dolphin and
ride along with the Mermaid.

On the journey,
we pass a silver school of tiny fish. They all head in the same direction,
going this way and then that, just as suddenly as if they’ve heard a bell.
Their movements are like a dance and it leaves me feeling dizzy because to keep
up with them means moving my head
back and forth as quick as flash.

The Mermaid has
somehow firmly planted herself atop the dolphin. I hold on as best I can to her
waist. Her wet hair is shining, even underwater because it’s so dark, it flaps
into my face, leaving me without sight at times.

We’ve apparently
left the cave and it’s left behind with great relief. There are critters, great
and small in there, along with masses of seaweed. I can’t see, so much as feel
the critters, slithering on past me as I hold my eyes tightly closed, trusting
my fate to the Mermaid and her dolphin steed.

We come out into
the open seas. Again, I think about Parthenope, Ligeia and Thelxiepeia.

Why had they
brought me to Athemoessa in the first place? What do they want from me?

It’s a mystery,
but perhaps the Mermaid knows something.

Deep in my
bones, though their song is thrilling, there’s a sense of dread when I think of
the Sirens. It tightens up my guts. It isn’t just the cravings the singing
brings to life within me, it’s that I also lose all grounding in space and time
when I hear them, so lost am I with the desire to hear them.

No. There has to
be a dark purpose within their enticements. They’re soul-suckers after all.
When their song leaves me, I no longer want to live.

What type of
creatures are Sirens?

Hands on the
Mermaid’s hips, I realize I ain’t alone with my thoughts. I can maybe
communicate with the creature, right in front of me.

“What business
do you have with Thelxiepeia, Parthenope and Ligeia, and more importantly, what
business do the three of them have with me?” I asked, speaking slowly and as
plain as possible. No answer.

“Mermaid, what
purpose do the Sirens have? What do they want with me and my Daddy?” I tried to
be clearer.

She seemed to
understand perfectly.

“Let’s get one
thing straight,” she speaks and it sounds sweeter than a wind chime. “Yes’m,” I
half-said and half-asked.

“I’m not a
Mermaid!”

 “What? Um, I’m
sorry. But you’re also not human. What are you?” I asked feeling embarrassed.

“I am a Nereide.
We are sea spirits. There are many of us. We are good to people, at least when
we want to be, and we have special powers.”

I’m held captive
by her tone and way of speaking. “I do apologize ma’am.”

“No need to
apologize and it’s not ma’am. My name is Galatea.”

These so-called
water spirits, Nereides, I guess it was, they ain’t human, ain’t Mermaids and
certainly ain’t American. As impossible as it might seem, they’re very capable
of understanding English.

“Kyane, the one
you think of as a vixen or red hot pepper, Kyane, is it? You have called her
girl, child, woman, angel, demon, you’ve thrown it all at her. Kyane, is her
name. She wants to be among the humans. In fact, she wants to become one of
you.”

“What?” I gasped
toward Galatea, in shock.

“Indeed, Kyane,
not only wants to be human but she has fixed her sights on being with your
father. Unheard of in our world. She’s attracted to his deeply resonate,
soulful song and wants to live with it forever,” Galatea finishes flatly.

“Ma’am . . . I
mean, Galatea, excuse me? His song?”

“Sirens are all
about voice, and they express themselves through singing.”

 “Across oceans, seas, and the Gulf of Mexico,
through caves, waves and over the tops of cliffs, your father’s mournful song,
filled with longing for life’s greatest pleasures, it touches a Siren, in a
place we didn’t know existed in them. Straight in her heart.” Galatea said, as
though surprised the words had escaped her lips.

“Your daddy,
people call him, Bobby “the Shrimp Man” Daniels, correct?” “Yes’m,” I said out
of force of habit.

“Well, the
Shrimp Man, has gone and done the impossible, reversing all that we have ever
known. Rather than sucking in and luring men to what would become their deaths,
your daddy’s song has disturbed a Siren’s purpose, and their entire way of
life. For that someone must pay,” Galatea told me, making fresh fear swell up
deep down in my belly. Now, our beloved Kyane has left Athemoessa and never
wants to return to be with her sisters. Remember them? Parthenope, Ligeia and
Thelxiepeia?

She pauses and
then carries on.

“Kyane could
care less about her sisters. She no longer is she content to lure sailors as
they have always done. She has set her sights, and her beautiful voice, on one
thing only, actually—melding herself, and in the process, her beautiful voice,
with your daddy’s.

“She wants my
daddy for what? I don’t understand.”

“Look, child,
Siren’s don’t really know the first thing about love. Kyane is no different.

She wants your
daddy to feed her empty soul.”



About the Author:


Stephanie Rose Bird is the author
of the critically acclaimed and award-winning, “Sticks, Stones, Roots and
Bones: Hoodoo Mojo and Conjuring with Herbs.” Her other books include: “365
Days of Hoodoo,” and “Four Seasons of Mojo,” all three were published by
Llewellyn Worldwide. Bird also contributes to Llewellyn Spell-a-Day,”
“Llewellyn Herbal Almanac” and “Llewellyn Magical Almanac.” She is the author
of: “Earth Mama Spiritual Guide to Weight-loss” (Green Magic Publishing), “A
Healing Grove” (Lawrence Hill Books), “The Big Book of Soul,” (Red Wheel
Weiser/Hampton Roads Publishers) and “Light, Bright and Damned Near White:
Biracial and Triracial Culture in America and Beyond.” (ABC-Clio).


She is a novelist, published by
One Odd Bird Press, in the Young Adult Fantasy and Magical Realism genres. “Out
of the Blue” is her debut novel in the Black and Blues Series. One Odd Bird
Press will also publish “Pine Barren Blues.” She writes and paints where she
lives (Chicagoland) with her husband, near her children, and along with some
very busy animal friends.




Website: www.stephanierosebird.com              



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