(A reimagining of a classic fairy tale)<\/em><\/p>\n Part One<\/strong><\/p>\n My name is Grethel Kova\u010d. I am eighty years old. I was born in a horse-drawn caravan in nineteen thirty-six in Bukovina, Romania. My brother, Hansel, was born in the same gaily painted wagon a year earlier. ***<\/p>\n In this first year, Papa met \u2013 and then married \u2013 Annaliese. While she was not cruel to us children, our new stepmother showed no real love or care. Honestly, I never understood what my Papa saw in Annaliese compared to our beautiful, olive-skinned, dark-haired mother or why he married so quickly. Still, I suppose the ravages of war took their toll on everyone in many different ways, and maybe she was just there when my father needed a woman\u2019s comfort, and she was a man\u2019s. \u00a0<\/p>\n Part Two<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cMy dearest children,\u201d said Papa, squatting before us. \u201cWe are in a terrible state, as you know, and there is just not enough food for us here in Hajn\u00f3wka. We four together cannot survive. Even scavenging and foraging will not sustain us. You must leave this house and find a way to fend for yourselves.\u201d ***<\/p>\n Bia\u0142owie\u017ca Forest. I could almost taste it in every drawn breath, a green rotted taste that cleaved to my tongue. Giant trees, unbelievably tall, towered above us, all vying for heavily contested space, and, in places, their thick verdant canopies overlapped and meshed like an overarching roof, blocking out all but the faintest wavering spurts of green-tinged sunlight. The sculpted rib-like roots swept out at their bases like the lichen-clad, flying buttresses of ancient abandoned churches, in the caverns of which we slept at night, curled up like twin embryos in the womb of our thin blankets, surrounded by the stink of decomposing vegetation, the sounds of night creatures, and the forest\u2019s dark secrets. \u00a0<\/p>\n Part Three<\/strong><\/p>\n The name \u2018Dorothea Marszalek\u2019 was merely an alias; for the Forester\u2019s real name was Irma Eiermann, and, during the war, she had been a member of the Nazi SS and worked as a guard at the Treblinka extermination camp, built north-east of Warsaw, near a village of the same name. Treblinka operated as part of Operation Reinhard, the deadliest phase of the Final Solution. ***<\/p>\n As the war ended and victorious Soviet troops pushed into Poland, liberating the camps, Irma Eiermann evaded the rounding-up of Nazis. With expertly forged Polish identification provided by ODESSA, she secured the position of a Forester in the Hajn\u00f3wka sector of Bia\u0142owie\u017ca Forest. It was an easy transition, for as a young girl, Irma had hunted deer and wild boar alongside her father in her homeland of Bavaria and was at home in such an environment. She wore a man\u2019s traditional hunter\u2019s dress; a beige wool hat with a boar\u2019s tail cockade, a brown checked jacket over a green waistcoat, and calf-length leather boots. \u00a0<\/p>\n Part Four<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cThank you for your kindness,\u201d said Hansel as we entered the cabin. \u00a0<\/p>\n Part Five<\/strong><\/p>\n That night, from under my headscarf, I removed a hairpin from my hair and gently picked the door lock. I opened it slowly. In the firebox, embers glowed, giving enough light. ***<\/p>\n At first light, the Butcher stepped out of her room, yawning and stretching. She froze mid-stride, her arms raised in her final overhead stretch. For there I sat, and, in my small hands, was the shotgun, pointing directly at her. \u00a0<\/p>\n Part Six<\/strong><\/p>\n After many days, we escaped the great forest and returned to the house. When the door opened, we threw ourselves at our father, wrapping our arms around his neck. \u00a0<\/p>\n [Image Credit : Photo by William Warby<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a>]<\/p>\n As a freelance writer, Steve Foreman has been published since 1994 in several UK and African print magazines, including BBC Wildlife magazine, Soldier magazine, Combat & Survival magazine, SCUBA magazine, Church of England Newspaper, African Travel Review magazine, Land Rover World magazine, Your Dog magazine, Travel News and Lifestyle magazine (Kenya), What\u2019s Happening in Dar (Tanzania), Tantravel (Tanzania); The Dar Guide (Tanzania), Daily Mail newspaper (UK), and others.
+++++<\/span>We were Roma, living in a kumpania<\/i> of ten other families. My father, Ivailo Kova\u010d, was a tinker, and my mother, Eldorai Dukar, was an herbalist and fortune teller. We had a wonderful traditional and nomadic life, and few children attended school because of our migratory nature. Although all Roma, whichever country they came from, spoke Romani, the children, from an early age, learned to speak other European languages, taught by their parents or by the phuri dai,<\/i> the senior woman in a kumpania. By the age of seven or eight, Hansel and I spoke reasonably good German.
+++++<\/span>In nineteen-thirty-three, a megalomaniac named Hitler had decided that the Jews and any non-Aryan ethnic group should be exterminated. By nineteen-forty, Heinrich Himmler was sending thousands of Roma \u2013 \u2018gypsies\u2019, he labelled us \u2013 to the extermination camps that had sprung up across Germany and Eastern Europe.
+++++<\/span>Our Voivode,<\/i> leader of the kumpania, fearing for all family\u2019s<\/i> lives, decided it would be safer if the families dispersed and disappeared, reducing an otherwise easy target for the Nazis. With much trepidation and tears, we went our separate ways. Apart from our souls, we left behind everything that identified us as Roma, including our fine carthorse, his polished brasses and harness, and our beautiful carved and decorated wagon. We even stopped speaking our ethnic Romani and conversed in German.
+++++<\/span>Papa took us, on foot, deep into the Carpathian Mountains to seek sanctuary. We endured years of the constant fear of capture. We moved constantly, and although we knew how to live off the land, we endured years of fear, hiding and hardship. We travelled over mountains and through forests, under rain, sun and snow. Even in our hiding places, we heard whispers of the Nazis\u2019 cruelty and barbarity towards the Roma.
+++++<\/span>In the winter of nineteen forty-four, our mother succumbed to an incurable sickness and died. Although deeply saddened by her demise and deprived of her love, amid the grief and sorrow, we determinedly pushed on,
+++++<\/span>When the war finally ended, we entered Hajn\u00f3wka, a town on the edge of the Bia\u0142owie\u017ca Forest. During the conflict between the Soviets and the Germans, Hajn\u00f3wka suffered massive aerial bombardments, leading to almost total destruction. But Papa found, among the ruins, one intact basement in a bombed-damaged house. We all lived in the same bare space, sleeping upon thin, chicken-feather mattresses with threadbare blankets to cover us.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>The conflict had been over for one year, but a great dearth still lay over the war-torn land, and the resulting deprivation would continue for many years. Papa earned a little money in his trade of tinker, but at other times, he was reduced to scavenging. We and our stepmother went begging, but there were many mendicants in the town. Hunting was banned in the protected forest, so we foraged along its verges, seeking edible plants, fungi and berries. Amid a harsh winter, this became a sore trial, and all food sources became scarce. We were constantly cold and hungry.
+++++<\/span>One night, I awoke to the sound of our stepmother\u2019s whispering.
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat shall become of us, Ivailo?\u201d she said. \u201cWe are starved and can hardly find enough food for one,<\/i> never mind four!<\/i> We shall all perish!\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cI know, Annaliese! I constantly give this thought,\u201d my father said, \u201cbut I can see no solution.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou listen to me now, Ivailo,\u201d said Annaliese. \u201cHansel and Grethel are babies no longer; they\u2019re big enough to leave home and fend for themselves.
+++++<\/span>\u201cBut they are my children! My flesh and blood!\u201d said Papa.
+++++<\/span>\u201cHa! Flesh and blood will turn to rot and bones if we all die of starvation!\u201d said Annaliese. \u201cAnd the grim reaper will care not of relationships!\u201d.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI suppose you have the right of it,\u201d our father replied.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>I broke down, clutching at my father\u2019s shirt.
+++++<\/span>\u201cGo now,\u201d Annaliese said sternly, forcibly uncurling my fingers from Papa\u2019s clothing. \u201cGo, and do not return!\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou heard your stepmother. You must leave now!\u201d Papa said, and I could hear sorrow belying the false severity in his voice. He walked away, his shoulders slumped in resignation.
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou must go to Bia\u0142owie\u017ca,\u201d said Annaliese, opening the door to usher us out. \u201cYou may have a chance there, for it is a much larger town, maybe with more possibilities.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cBut, in that case, why don\u2019t we all go there together?\u201d I cried.
+++++<\/span>\u201cBecause I am unwell and cannot travel,\u201d she said, her voice lowered.
+++++<\/span>\u201cHa! I, too, am unwell and cannot travel,\u201d I said, throwing a scowling look at her, \u201cmy sickness is hunger, and Bia\u0142owie\u017ca is so far. I don\u2019t have the strength to walk so many miles!\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou may save time and many miles of walking by heading south, directly through the forest,\u201d she said, \u201cinstead of following the road around it. Although it is prohibited to enter by the new law, I don\u2019t think anyone would mind two young children walking through the forest, do you?\u201d
+++++<\/span>I did not answer. Fearing I would say more to our glowering stepmother, Hansel pulled me away.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>During the daytime, we picked and ate berries and mushrooms to sustain us as we walked. From the sun\u2019s position, Hansel could tell which direction Bia\u0142owie\u017ca lay. But our progress was hindered by impenetrable walls of brambles, the thorns clutching at our clothing like witch\u2019s claws, or we were turned aside by impassable swathes of nettles that stung like wasps when touching our skin.
+++++<\/span>We were so often forced to deviate from our route that, one evening, Hansel said, \u201cI have digressed so far from the way, Grethel; I am sorry. We are completely lost.\u201d
+++++<\/span>But at that very moment, as the gloaming encroached upon us, we came suddenly into a clearing. There, in the middle, stood a cabin. At first glance, it appeared to be ramshackle, made of blackened logs and timber planks, with a sway-backed roof of wooden shingles. If it were not for the smoke curling up from the crooked chimney and the sliver of light shining through the cracks of a window shutter, we would have thought the cabin was abandoned.
+++++<\/span>We approached tentatively. Hansel knocked on the wooden door.
+++++<\/span>The door creaked open, and yellow light flooded out, along with the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked bread.
+++++<\/span>Despite the cabin\u2019s dilapidated appearance, the woman appeared not so, with her distinctive Forester garb and a polished shotgun held casually under one arm.
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat have we here?\u201d said the woman.
+++++<\/span>\u201cExcuse us, madam,\u201d said Hansel, glancing warily at the shotgun. \u201cWe don\u2019t wish to trouble you. We are starving. We are on our way to Bia\u0142owie\u017ca to seek work, but we have become lost.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cWell, I cannot offer you any work, for I am a forester and work alone. But I can help with your hunger. What are your names?\u201d she asked.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m Hansel, and this is my sister, Grethel.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cSo, Hansel and Grethel, my name is Dorethea Marszalek. Come inside. I have just prepared food, and you are welcome to share it.\u201d<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>After the war, when news reached us that up to two thousand Roma were murdered in its gas chambers, we felt almost guilty for surviving the terror.
+++++<\/span>Untersturmf\u00fchrer<\/i> Irma Eiermann was the dominant overseer of the prisoners. Because of the abject cruelty she had visited them, she grew to be the most feared female guard there.
+++++<\/span>Beatings, shootings, gassing, and burning of Jews and other \u2018sub-humans\u2019 in the crematoria\u2019s ovens were carried out daily by Eiermann and the other guards in the death camp. Still, undoubtedly, Irma Eiermann was the most terrifying of all the guards, for her cruelty extended far beyond the routine killing. She was a sadistic and fanatical paedophile.
+++++<\/span>She relished the locomotives\u2019 hissing steam, the cattle cars\u2019 clanging, and the soldiers\u2019 harsh shouts and blown whistles. The cracking of whips and the barking of the vicious guard dogs were like music to her, for all they heralded the arrival of new batches of prisoners\u2026 and prey. She watched every boy pulled out from the overcrowded and stinking box cars, routinely selecting the least skinny one for her special treatment in her private quarters.
+++++<\/span>At gunpoint, Eiermann would force her victim to strip, then, with leather restraints on his wrists and ankles, she would tie him to a bed. She would then sexually assault the boy in every sadistic way imaginable. Her laughter \u2013 and the boys\u2019 shrieks of pain \u2013 drifted and diluted among the cacophony of screams and chaos outside as, with her free hand, she masturbated herself with the long ebony handle of her whip.
+++++<\/span>Finally, would use the thong of her whip as a ligature to asphyxiate the child before shoving the body into a cast-iron oven to be incinerated. Sometimes, when the door to the oven was slammed shut, her victims were still alive.
+++++<\/span>There were rumours \u2013 true, as it turned out \u2013 that Eiermann indulged in cannibalism, feasting on her victim\u2019s roasted flesh. The remains of the corpse were then incinerated and converted to ash to be strewn, along with that of countless others, on the road outside.
+++++<\/span>Feared by prisoners and Kapos alike, Eiermann was nicknamed \u2018The Butcher\u2019.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>Treblinka camp was liberated and destroyed, but Eiermann\u2019s extreme paedophiliac tendencies remained an unstoppable addiction and obsession.
+++++<\/span>In the post-war ruins of Hajn\u00f3wka, half-starved people, widows and widowers, the elderly and infirm \u2013 and orphaned children \u2013 all scrabbled for a living. It was here that Eiermann hunted.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>\u201cMy pleasure,\u201d the woman said. And then, as if to herself, \u201cIt will save me a trip into Hajn\u00f3wka.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I didn\u2019t understand the meaning of her last words, but the smell of freshly baked bread made my mouth water, and all other thoughts were chased from my mind.
+++++<\/span>In the kitchen stood a black cast-iron stove with a huge oven. A pot of stew gently simmered on the stove\u2019s hot plate.
+++++<\/span>She served us rabbit stew in clay bowls, accompanied by hunks of fresh bread.
+++++<\/span>\u201cBia\u0142owie\u017ca is still very far,\u201d said Marszalek. \u201cYou can go no further tonight, for you would become even more lost than you are now. You may stay here.\u201d
+++++<\/span>When our bowls were wiped clean with the last swab of bread, the woman said, \u201cGrethel, you will sleep in there.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I tentatively approached the door indicated and pushed it open. The hinges groaned in protest.
+++++<\/span>\u201cIn you go,\u201d the woman said, \u201cand get a good night\u2019s sleep, for you will need to be refreshed for tomorrow.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I entered, but to my utter shock, she slammed the door shut, locking me inside. I banged on the panels with both fists, squealing for Hansel.
+++++<\/span>But all I heard was the metallic \u2018cluck-click\u2019 of a gun being cocked and the Forester shouting, \u201cStay where you are, boy, or I\u2019ll blow your fucking head off!\u201d
+++++<\/span>Hansel muttered something, and Marszalek said, \u201cDon\u2019t speak! Or I\u2019ll kill your sister. Do you understand?\u201d
+++++<\/span>There came footfalls, shuffling noises and a door opening. \u201cThat is where you sleep, boy,\u201d I heard the Forester say, \u201cand if you make a single fucking sound, I will shoot Grethel!\u201d
+++++<\/span>I fell silent, even trying to conceal my sobbing, fearful of what the woman might do if she heard. As had become a recent habit, I cried myself into an exhausted and troubled sleep.
+++++<\/span>The following morning, my bedroom door squealed open, \u201cWake up, gypsy brat!\u201d the woman shouted. I screamed in fright.
+++++<\/span>\u201cNo one can hear you!\u201d Marszalek said. \u201cNow, fetch firewood, girl. Don\u2019t even think of running off. If you do, I will shoot your brother in the head!\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat\u2026 who are you?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cWho am I?\u201d the woman said, \u201cI am the Butcher!\u201d
+++++<\/span>She smiled at me, \u201cDoes that scare you? It should do. In a previous life, I was a Nazi guard at Treblinka death camp.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I shivered in fear, for the mere name of Treblinka was horror enough to paralyze one with terror.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI was Untersturmf\u00fchrer Irma Eiermann, but the Butcher is what they called me there!\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cWhat do you want from us?\u201d I cried.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI am keeping your brother like a chicken in a nest until he is fattened up.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d I said, \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cI want a nice fat boy for a change,\u201d she said. \u201cHe\u2019s all skin and bones. I had enough of those skeletal brats in Treblinka. Even the orphans in Hajn\u00f3wka are too skinny! Hansel will become a fat, juicy chicken, ready for roasting!\u201d
+++++<\/span>I screamed at this, but the woman stuck the gun barrels in my ribs. \u201cNow, you gypsy brat! You\u2019re going to cook some rabbit for your brother. Do it, or you will be next on the fucking menu!\u201d
+++++<\/span>It was no use protesting; I had to do as ordered.
+++++<\/span>The Butcher sat down, with the gun resting across her knees, as I stood stirring the cast-iron pot. Once the rabbit was nicely stewed, the Butcher said, \u201cNow fill a bowl with lots of meat for your brother.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Then, prodding me with the shotgun, she forced me not into another bedroom, as I expected, but out through the back door. I burst into tears when I saw my brother in a small cage.
+++++<\/span>\u201cDear God, pray help us!\u201d I cried, \u201cIf we had all starved to death in Hajn\u00f3wka, at least we should have died together.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cSpare me your lamentations,\u201d said the Butcher; \u201cthey are of no avail. Now feed your brother. I want him stuffed!\u201d
+++++<\/span>This routine was repeated day after day. I was forbidden to speak a single word to my brother under threat of punishment or death, so Hansel had no idea what fate awaited him.
+++++<\/span>Each night, following a day of wretched slavery and a bowl of rabbit remains and bones, I was locked in my room.
+++++<\/span>I had learned many skills from our Roma way of life, and improvisation came naturally to me. Whenever I cooked a rabbit, I extracted some fat, secretly wrapping it in my handkerchief. Each night, I rubbed the fat into the spindles of the door hinges until the door opened with no sound of protest.
+++++<\/span>The Butcher had, by now, locked the shotgun away in a gun cabinet. She knew I\u2019d never abandon Hansel or run away, for I would be lost. She now carried a whip of supple hide to coerce or punish me. The ebony handle bore a silver SS Death\u2019s Head on the pommel.
+++++<\/span>On the eleventh evening of our captivity, I overheard the Butcher say to herself, \u201cHansel is fat enough. I can wait no longer. Tomorrow, I shall feast.\u201d<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>With the same hairpin, I unlocked the gun cabinet. I took the shotgun and a box of cartridges and laid them on the table. I loaded the gun and sat\u2026 and waited.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>I cocked both hammers with a satisfying sounding, \u2018cluck-click, cluck-click.\u2019
+++++<\/span>I stood and worked my way around the table. The Butcher\u2019s eyes tracked my every movement like a viper about to strike a rat. The shotgun never wavered from her.
+++++<\/span>\u201cMove over there, to the stove,\u201d I said, indicating with a tilt of my chin.
+++++<\/span>Her face transformed into a mask of pure hatred, but she slowly edged toward the stove. When she was in front of the open oven door, I said, \u201cStop there!\u201d
+++++<\/span>I smiled at her, \u201cNow, listen very carefully. I am famished. I cannot recall what roasted meat tastes like. So, why don\u2019t you climb into the oven?\u201d I waved the shotgun at her.
+++++<\/span>She threw her head back and laughed. \u201cFoolish little girl!\u201d she said. \u201cEven if I thought of obeying your ridiculous order, which I do not, I would never fit in that oven!\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou are right, not all in one piece.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I pulled a trigger. The shot blew her left arm off at the shoulder. She screamed.
+++++<\/span>I could hear Hansel shrieking, \u201cGrethel!\u201d
+++++<\/span>The next shot destroyed the Butcher\u2019s right knee. She collapsed directly in front of the stove. I walked over and watched her writhing in a pool of blood, spitting venom through froth and clenched teeth. The Butcher screamed in agony, and then suddenly, her yammering stopped, and she fell still and silent.
+++++<\/span>Hansel\u2019s yelling had now turned to wracking sobs.
+++++<\/span>I rushed outside, \u201cHansel, she is dead!\u201d I said, freeing him from the cage. We fell into each other\u2019s arms, hugging and crying.
+++++<\/span>As our heartbeats slowed and reality returned, I said, \u201cShe had terrible plans for you, Hansel. So awful that I cannot bring myself to speak of them,\u201d I paused, \u201cso I shot her.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Hansel stared at me with a look of amazement and gratitude.
+++++<\/span>We entered the cabin and began probing all the cupboards and drawers, looking for anything of use or value to take with us.
+++++<\/span>To our great astonishment, we found a leather bag full of gold. It was not jewellery or ingots; to our perplexity, it was hundreds of gold teeth and fillings.
+++++<\/span>\u201cWe can now go home. The gold will cure all our ills.\u201d Hansel said, and then, \u201cI smell burning!\u201d
+++++<\/span>Sparks, or embers, had fallen from the firebox. The Butcher\u2019s black silk robe was aflame. The silk burned at a very high temperature. The wooden floor beneath her body suddenly combusted. Flames squirmed up the wall and licked hungrily at the bone-dry rafters. They burned fiercely, roaring like a tortured dragon. The fire spread so rapidly that we ran from the cabin, scampering across the clearing towards the tree line.
+++++<\/span>\u201cMay the Butcher\u2019s soul burn in Hell!\u201d I yelled.
+++++<\/span>\u201cThe Butcher?\u201d Hansel said as we disappeared into the forest. When I told him who the Forester really was, he shook his head in amazement.<\/p>\n
+++++<\/span>After much hugging and kissing, Papa said, \u201cYour stepmother is gone. I found her absent when I returned from foraging afar. I doubt she will ever return.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Hansel and I jumped for joy.
+++++<\/span>Then we related to Papa our astonishing tale.
+++++<\/span>Opening the leather bag, Papa was overwhelmed. We took the gold to a family of Jews who Papa knew in Hajn\u00f3wka. They had escaped the terrible fate of other Jews and were recently returned to the town.
+++++<\/span>After hearing the whole account, The Jewish elder, a Rabbi, spoke to Hansel and me. \u201cThis gold is all that remains of countless victims of Treblinka. We shall never know their names. Eiermann must have removed it from Treblinka when she and the other Nazi guards fled. It was to be her nest egg, and you children have prevented her from benefitting from it,\u201d the Rabbi said.
+++++<\/span>He grasped both my hands. \u201cGrethel, you alone have rid the world of the most terrible darkness and replaced it with light. I beg you to feel no guilt about your actions, for God will smile upon you.\u201d
+++++<\/span>He turned to Papa, \u201cIn Warsaw, trade is beginning to come alive again. With your permission, I shall convert this gold into cash. We will honour the dead by helping the thousands of poor and destitute of this town and the displaced persons who sought shelter here return to their homes.\u201d
+++++<\/span>And that is what happened. With our share of the new-found wealth, we returned to Romania, where Papa had a beautiful wagon made. He purchased a fine horse with all the trappings, and we joined a newly gathered and formed kumpania of Roma.
+++++<\/span>And we all lived happily ever after until the end of our days.<\/p>\n![\"Facebook\"](\"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-content\/plugins\/social-media-feather\/synved-social\/image\/social\/regular\/48x48\/facebook.png\"\/ "\\"Share")
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\nSeveral of his horror\/paranormal\/bizarre tales have been published in print and e-zines, including; Blood Moon Rising (issue 56 – 2014); Hellfire Crossroads (Vol 2 – 2014); Aphelion (2014\/02); Twisted Dreams (2015); The Were Traveller (2015)
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\nSteve Foreman has also had short stories published in the following print anthologies:
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\n\u201cBones III\u201d (James Ward Kirk Publishing – 2014); \u201cAmok!\u201d (April Moon Books \u2013 2014); \u201cIll Considered Expeditions\u201d (April Moon Books \u2013 2015); \u201cBetween the Cracks\u201d (Siren\u2019s Call Publications – 2015)\u2019 \u201cThe Grays\u201d (James Ward Kirk Publishing – 2015);<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n