Books | Carmen Kern

Home
blog
Books
About
Contact

Home
blog
Books
About
Contact

THE LUCIFER CHRONICLES SYMBOL

THE FALL OF THE GODS

Persephone book cover

Hades book cover

THE LUCIFER CHRONICLES

Satan's Historian book cover

THE WATCHER BOOK COVER

The Fallen book cover

SHORT STORIES

The Seller - Episode 1

The Seller - Episode 4

Postcard Stories cover

The Seller - Episode 2

Seller Episode 5

The Seller - Episode 3

Instagram

It happened at night, the separation. The wet snap

It happened at night, the separation. The wet snap and the gradual split and Lester’s body became thoughts and wind as he drifted out the window of the man’s loft. Lester woke miles away, alone and dark and long in the rising light of the sun. He wandered for a while, picked up food from an abandoned plate left on a table at a restaurant. Lester had nothing. He was nothing. No one saw him, not really. They stepped on him, ignored him, some even spit on him and he tried to care, but he couldn’t. Meandering through the streets for days and weeks and maybe a few months, he came upon a poster stuck to a streetlight. His black form stretched out to a thin point on the sidewalk as he stood beneath the light and read the paper.

Shadows Anonymous. Are you lost? Separated and alone? You don’t have to be.

Lester memorized the words he read and for the first time in a long time, he moved with purpose. The community hall door was jammed open, light spilling from inside. He heard voices, tinny, wispy words that seemed to float away before he could tell what they were.

“You here for the group?”

Lester turned toward the voice and a bench a few feet away. Another, just like him sat on the wooden slats, munching on a burger.

Lester nodded and sat down beside the slight shadow. “I’m Lester.” His voice drifted off.

“You’re gonna be okay, Lester. We’ve come from all over and we’ve got our shadow quirks,” the shadow wiped its dark chin, “but we got each other. It’s a damn good support group.” A thin hand reached out to Lester. “I’m Charles. And I’ve been separated for a couple of years now. And do you know what?”

“What?” “It’s the best two years of my existence.” Charles offered Lester some of his fries and they munched on the food, smacking their shadow lips and smiling their shadow smiles in between bites. And as more of their kind filtered into the community hall, talking and laughing in disappearing noises, Lester thought he just might be okay.

#shadowplay

My workspace has gotten smaller in the past few ye

My workspace has gotten smaller in the past few years as my son's computer and server collection has grown. I actually love that we share a space, that we can chat, and listen to music as we work. I've always had to make my workspace visually inspiring, no matter the size. It seems that whatever surrounds me, feeds me. What about you? What does your creative space say about you? Are you inspired by it? #workspace

Knock knock. Who's there? Mikey! Mikey who? Mikey

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Mikey!
Mikey who?
Mikey doesn't fit in the keyhole. (Canned laughter) What's your favorite knock knock joke? #knockknock

I tell myself that…

they won’t know I didn’t find the character that pulled the entire story together until the end, because of course there had to be a Franciscan nun showing up at his door
wait…not a nun, a black dragon that blows confetti out of its nostrils

no one sees the pile of sawdust as I sand down my story with 100 grit paper because of those rough words

maybe they won’t be able to tell that I could only write one good sentence today

or that for too many times to count I put my head down on my desk and said, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” or “I can’t do this.”

And maybe there are others thinking these exact things (probably not the dragon bit) about the thing they’re creating, imagining, or doing.

So I remind myself to beware the dog of doubt. Even though the sign is meant as a warning, I’m going to ignore it. Get on with things. Do the work and take a chance. And if all else fails, I’ve still got a confetti breathing dragon in my arsenal. And that, my friends, trumps the dog of doubt any day.

#doubt

I spy with my big eye... #rinodistrict #denver

I spy with my big eye... #rinodistrict #denver

That old tv never did work, but that didn’t stop

That old tv never did work, but that didn’t stop grandad from sitting out by the garage to stare at the thing for hours. It was my job to keep his glass of lemonade filled up while he was out there. He would hush me if I talked. “Just fill the glass, Jessie,” he’d say.

I was twelve, and I complained every time I had to go out there. But wouldn’t you know it, when grandad passed away, when I no longer had to trek down the driveway and pour him lemonade, I missed it. I missed him.

Momma wanted to throw out that old TV, but I wouldn’t let her. I took to sitting out there most nights, staring at the screen. I thought I could see grandad sitting next to me in the screen reflection. I didn’t miss him so much then. I never did get rid of that old thing. Not even when I was out on my own. I carted it from apartment to apartment to my first house. Occasionally, I still see grandad in the screen. He’s always smiling.

I like to think someone’s taking care of him, filling up his lemonade glass in the great ever-after.

#reflections

A shopping cart saved my life. Don’t look at me

A shopping cart saved my life. Don’t look at me that way…I’m old, but I still got all my marbles. I’ve had this cart since 1978, when I had my first baby. We didn’t have the fancy strollers then and even if we did, I couldn’t afford one. I had to borrow this cart from my neighborhood store. I’d lay my baby in the wire basket in a bed of blankets and walk to the grocery store three blocks from my house, carting food and diapers and a sleeping babe back and forth. I locked that cart up to the bike rake at our apartment building. No one messed with it. Never. I had three kids in that thing and when they were grown and left my house, I still used the cart near every day. My cart came with me everywhere—picking up garbage around my apartment building, delivering food to my sick neighbors, carrying books from the library—walking, walking everywhere. And a few years back, when my hip started aching, this here cart worked as a walker, holding me up when I needed it. On Sunday when my preacher spoke about being mindful of the blessings in our lives, I thought of my shopping cart. It had carried so much. Took the burdens I couldn’t always carry. I darn near had a tear in my eye right there in the pew. I guarantee I was the only one in the congregation thinking about my shopping cart. But I’m telling you, it kept me company, kept me mobile, and helped me help others. It saved my life. So, let me ask you this, what are your blessings? You can tell me, the shopping cart lady. I won’t laugh no matter what you say…you can count on that.

#shoppingcart

This past month, my photogroup had the theme: Oppo

This past month, my photogroup had the theme: Opposites. There’s a lot of leeway in that theme, so many different directions I could have gone. And the more I thought about what to shoot, I couldn’t help but think about our current times. Opposites or opposition seems to be the topic at hand.
The interesting thing is that what we see as opposite, is really just two parts meeting somewhere in the middle to make everything whole. Hmm… All that from a single dandelion. #lessonsfromnature

In the beginning of the world, there was a bird, s

In the beginning of the world, there was a bird, small and ugly, waddling on the ground, unaware it had wings. It sang to the blue skies, voice soaring and dipping, longing and magic infused within every note. This went on for days and then weeks until the sky reached down and cradled the bird within its soft breeze. Blue seeped from one to the other, painting the bird’s feathers with color. The bird stuck out its chest and plumped up its feathers in gratitude, and the sky whispered, “come join me.” The bluebird’s wings carried its now beautiful body in the currents of wind, cradled once more by the sky. And to this day, the bluebird and the sky have remained the closest of friends. #loveshortstories

You never really know how a vacation will turn out

You never really know how a vacation will turn out, no matter how much you plan. I took this shot a couple of weeks ago in Colorado on our late summer vacation. The first two days we got some unexpected snow and had to hibernate. Two days later, this is what we saw on a wet and sloppy hike. Nature at its best. #explorecolorado

The path of a ghost is etched into the earth, hamm

The path of a ghost is etched into the earth, hammered and chiseled by heeled boots, flat leather soles, and the barest of feet. I follow the prints up and over the rise. There’s a man standing by the car, smartly dressed in black pants, an unblemished white shirt, and the same black tie strangling every salesman’s throat across the country. He looks up at me, shielding his eyes against the sun. “You want a ride?” he asks. “I’m going to the store to get a loaf of bread. I can take you that far.” For a moment, I look at the man like he’s crazy. Like I’m crazy. I snatch the end of the man’s tie and choke my own throat, jerking this way and that way until I know the truth. The man is me, minutes before my car drives off the road and down the side of the mountain. When I glance up at my house, my wife rocks in the ratty wicker chair on the front porch. My son plays with the wooden car I bought him for Christmas last year. Do they see me here, waving before I go? “I’ll be right back,” I call out. But the wind carries my words. I’ll see them again. After the accident. After I climb out of the ravine and trace my footsteps back up to my house…again and again along the path of a ghost. #hauntedplaces

Some of you might know I have a thing for gin cock

Some of you might know I have a thing for gin cocktails, so I thought I’d try and find appropriate drinks for the main character in each of my books in this new series. This one had Persephone’s name all over it. Let me know if you give the recipe a try! Side note: I have a whole new respect for food and drink photographers after spending way too much time trying to get a decent shot of this. #happyhour

All written material and images found on this site belong to Carmen Kern and Djinn & Tonic Publications. Ⓒ 2018. Read Privacy Policies here and Cookie Policy here.

This site uses cookies: Find out more.