Rosemary B. Althoff

Have you ever taken sides with an enemy with (what you think) is a noble purpose? That is, you think you can save somebody if you just go along with the abuser in your life? That's the mistake Lewis made; that's the mistake a lot of us make. Sometimes we don't have any other choice! Lewis knew what was going to happen and what he should do. I'll go to Moorway. I'll join the Horned Edge. I'll excel and earn Charon's favor. And then - I'll take Barth's place at Lord Charon's right hand. And then - I'll rescue Patrick and Gracie and take us back to Earth.  With one last flash of humor before switching sides, he labelled the moment of decision: "The Day I Became Anti-Matter." After that, all humor was gone. He was no longer on the side of the angels, presuming that such entities existed. (p.318) I highly recommend that you do NOT try to protect someone else by letting another person beat up on you. But I know that sometimes tha...

People in the USA are enculturated to believe that slender people are more sexy than fat people. But that is not the culture in some other countries, such as the Philippines. Also, even in the USA, some people prefer their fat cuddly teddy bear partners than the more bony type. One of THE HOT MARBLE's characters and friend of main character Fred, Sir Thomas Forschwynn, the Bard of Bardia, prefers fat cuddly women. His love "was taller than he was and almost as wide as she was tall. She had at least six chins sprouting long black hairs, and Fred saw a mustache under her pert little nose; yet she was somehow very pretty. Her body moved powerfully, yet with a feminine rhythm. Her blouse, with a scandalously low V-neck, complimented her giant bosom. . . . She gave Tom a long look, and Fred could swear that her brown eyes darkened with attraction and there was a slight, sensuous smile playing around her full lips. He glanced at Tom to see if he had noticed, and to his amaz...

   They were spirits, noncorporeal; they'd just heard him calling.     . . . If the bezubs took him, he would be trapped with them in hell. And hell would be like watching Patrick's terrified face, a knife blade cutting into his throat, except the horror would be eternal. He would never get out.    Too late. In his mind he saw razor-teethed gremlins rushing toward his open mouth, his surrendered hands. Bezubs, coinhabitors of his own world, were taking back their own.    "No," he groaned. "It can't be true. That's just religion or folk tales."    But it was true. (p. 389)

One time, on Halloween night while we were trick-or-treating, some bullies threatened to beat up my little sister. I was fierce, all 5 feet and 110 lbs. of me. "If you try to touch her, I'll beat you into a pulp," I promised. When my character Lewis has a chance to defend his little brother, he grabs a big stick, while one of his attackers pulls a knife. He says to himself, I will fight- no rules, no mercy- until Patrick escapes in the forest.  To the men, Jack and Kut, he taunts, baring his teeth, "Aren't you afraid of a desperate man with a big, sharp stick? Let this rip up your skin if you try to touch me!" Kut's knife threatened to slit a nice space between Lewis's ribs. Jack's branch whooshed as it tried to brain him. Well, the bullies left me and my sister alone.