Story Bends by S.D. Henke Blog Tour with Excerpt & Giveaway




Story Bends
Published October 9th




What if your only escape from death was to meet it half way?
If the voices called on YOU...
Needed YOU...
Brought YOU in between the Bends of time where all faith is lost to those who wait. Your etchings hold the secrets to guide them on their way. Yet, there will be no safe passage if evil finds you first and you have no toll to pay.




Excerpt from Chapter Twenty-Four
By S.D. Henke
            
                    
“I did not know if I should intervene.” Sister Dina sits in a plush chair that’s been pushed up next to my bed.

“How long was I out?” I ask.

“Nearly five.”

“Only five minutes?” I push myself up and slide back against the wall.

“No, Edvood. Five hours.”
            
“What? That’s not possible. That’s the longest I’ve...that can’t be.”

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“I’m fine, good, I think.” I shake my head.

“This is helping, Edvood.” Her smile warms me. The soft pink hue of her cheeks displaces the dark circles under her eyes. I’m relieved to be back among the living.    

“Did you get any sleep?” I ask.        
            
“It was enough. I will rest more today now that I have less to worry about with you. But first, tell me what you’ve seen.”    
            
“It’s hard to explain. Not like any dream. So real and strange. More color, more sound, more everything. And it’s as if no time passes between my visits.”        
        
“It is changing?”                

“It rings clearer. Like the pieces of a puzzle forming a picture out of the memories.”
        
“Memories are important.”                

“I get the feeling that’s all it is, really. At least that’s how they explained it,” I say.    
        
“They?” Her eyes open wide.                

“Yes. Two of them. The voices I know. It’s as if...they were expecting me.”    
        
“Stupendo,” Sister Dina whispers.

“You’re happy about it?”

“It is a change. Change is good, no?”

“They aren’t just voices in my head anymore. I see them.    
            
Talk to them. What’s that if not worse?”

“Will you return?” she asks, as if what I’ve said carries less weight than a fleck of dust.            
“I suppose. If I stick with the treatment I don’t have a choice.”

“You are unsure?”
                    
“I don’t know. If it’s all coming from here,” I tap my head, “how can it seem so bloody real?”
                    
“Who are we to say that it is not possible on some stretch of reality that what we imagine is not real?” She stares back at me, waiting for an answer.
                    
“So, I haven’t convinced you yet?” I ask.

“Convince me, of what?”

“That I’m a total loon?”

“That is not up for me to decide. More important is what you think, Edvood?”

“I’ve been mulling over voices in my head since I was three, I’m not much for talking to people and they’ve never been much for talking to me. Real people, that is. Haven’t looked forward to a good night’s sleep in over a decade. I’d say on the list of qualifications, I’m likely only one note away from being completely out of tune.”
                    
“I am not one to judge, but I can see how this disturbs you. And what if these imaginings are not imaginings at all? What if they are as real as you say?” she asks.
                    
“You don’t really believe that.”
                    
“I believe in many things that we do not altogether understand, Edvood.”
                    
“Well then, that might just be an even more frightening prospect.”
                    
“Or could it be the more inviting one?” The question rests in her eyes.




I began making my first connections to story in the early days of my childhood. Raised by my mother who ran an in-home daycare was where my imagination could run free and unencumbered. It was a safe zone and I learned from that experience the power of unconditional love.But my story wasn’t always filled with happy ever afters, and I came to understand that there are some sorrows and trauma that are part of all of us. As love and joy are universal, so is pain and suffering. Through the magic and alchemy of story, we can reach farther and heal our wounds.
I started my teaching career nearly 20 years ago and knew from the moment I began that this was my true calling. Teaching was in my bones and so, naturally was the little nip of my conscience for storytelling. I work to build strong, long-lasting relationships with my students. In fact, I began on this path toward a writing career because of the imprint they’ve had on my spirit. What I didn’t know was what the Muse had in store for me as the children I still come into contact with today continue to inspire the stories I write.
My greatest loves are exploring nature and spending time with family and friends. Whether I’m splashing it up on the local reservoirs, rafting down the Poudre River with my husband, two boys, and our dog Sophie, or shaping young minds in my classroom, I consider myself lucky to call Fort Collins, Colorado my home.

















11/12 Book Inspector Guest Post
11/13 . Just Books Excerpt
11/13 . All the Ups and Downs . Interview
11/14 . YA/NA Book Divas . Excerpt
11/14 . Blunt Book Blog . Review
11/15 . The Faerie Review . Audio Excerpt
11/15 . The Page Unbound Review
11/16 . Rebecca Cahill . Guest Post
11/16 . Jennifer Reads . Review
11/16 . The World of My Imagination . Review



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