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ARIES' RED SKY by James Young + Print Artwork #Giveaway | @GoddessFish Presents #ScienceFiction

ARIES' RED SKY by James Young is on book blast tour and stops at Readeropolis. The science fiction is available now.



This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. James Young will be awarding a 5x7 print of concept artwork from the Vergassy Universe to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.


The Confederation of Man believes all Humanity should be under Terra’s rule.

The Spartan Republic has spent seven centuries preparing to resist Earth’s tyranny.

The stars will burn as these two mindsets come into brutal conflict in Aries’ Red Sky, the newest novel by award-winning author James Young.

Read an Excerpt:

The problem with making plans is sometimes the universe feels the need to remind you that it has a sense of humor, Nathan thought to himself. He glanced once again at his watch, then at the single wooden door at the end of the long, narrow room. It did not help his mood that the room was gloomy, the only light provided by the floating holograms of ancient documents. These lined the red, carpeted walkway that led through the surrounding blue carpet like a scarlet runway.

The Magna Carta. The American Declaration of Independence. The American Constitution. The Freebooter Articles. All forbidden by the Hassan Empire.

Nathan turned to look at the final hologram hovering above the legislative chamber’s entrance.

All also located here with The Acts of Inception to remind a waiting Executive that they are far from all powerful.

“Mr. President, that door’s not going to open until the Chief Parliamentarian is damn well ready to have it open,” Andrews stated dryly. Despite the security officer’s laconic comment, Nathan could tell the man was not impressed with being in the darkened room.

Three Presidents have died in this location and its predecessor, Nathan thought. Sure, one of them was a heart attack, but no one ever says to the head of security, ‘Oh you poor dear, how could you have known his heart was going to explode?’

“I still can’t believe Porter was the easier of the two of them to find,” Nathan said, giving Andrews a wry look.

“Porter has always been very good about his itinerary,” Andrews stated. “Nikephoros, not so much.”

The Chief Parliamentarian had finally been found with the help of a couple local kibbutzin. He and his two female companions had been far from the beaten path, having discovered a high mountain lake to avail themselves of.

Polyamory should be lethal at his age and that altitude, Nathan thought uncharitably. In either case, I’m sure that’s part of the reason we’re waiting—so he can remind me I’m not the boss of him.

The Spartan Republic’s Acts of Inception incurred a certain…tenseness between Executive and Legislative branches by design. First and foremost was the fact that the former served one six year term, period. Add to that no individual could serve in either branch for more than ten years combined, and it became readily apparent why the latter did not really give much of a shit what the former thought.

Walthers, Brown, and Menoit were no Washington, Marshall, and Madison, Nathan thought. But they got the job done. Longest any Republic has lasted in history.

About the Author:
James Young is a Missouri native who escaped small town life by attending the United States Military Academy. After being set free from the Hudson River Valley, Mr. Young spent the next six years of his life in the Army repaying his education the proverbial “nickel at a time.” Along the way he collected a loving, patient, beautiful spouse…and various animals that did not fit that description. Leaving the Republic’s employ, he returned to the Midwest to pursue his doctorate—a process which took twice the time planned but is finally concluded. Having now concluded two of the prerequisites to be a super villain, Dr. Young spends his time waiting for the inevitable origin story, winning writing awards (2016 United States Naval Institute Cyber Essay Contest Winner, among others), and writing an alternate history (Usurper’s War) and military space opera (Vergassy Chronicles) series. His latest book is Aries Red Sky, the first in a new Vergassy Universe trilogy.

James Young’s Blog: https://vergassy.com
James Young’s Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00AVKCQZQ

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Aries-Red-Sky-Vergassy-Universe-ebook/dp/B07DTC94MX/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

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The Charly Stevens Series by @Two_Sharpe | Book Tour & $20 Amazon GC #Giveaway | @SDSXXTours Presents #CozyMystery

The Charly Stevens Series by Two Sharpe is on virtual book tour. The cozy mystery stops at Readeropolis with an excerpt of Awakening.

Be sure to enter for a chance to win the giveaway for a $20 Amazon GC and follow the Silver Dagger book tour (for other dates see the link at the bottom of the post).





Awakening
The Charly Stevens Series Book 1
by Two Sharpe
Genre: Cozy Mystery


What do you do when tragedy comes into your life and takes everything away? Charly Stevens’ life was turned upside down when a drunk driver took her beloved husband Kevin from her, making her a widow at 24. Charly has two choices, stay in the dark pit of despair that has become her life for almost a year, or take a chance and enter the world of the living and move forward again. Lucky for Charly, she has some excellent friends who support her, but she will also have to face the next step in her life when a man from her past reappears and shows definite interest. Charly gets caught up in a murder investigation with some unusual help from her rescue dog, Lola. After Kevin was taken, he finds a way to help Charly realize her place in the world again with Lola’s help.



Acceptance
The Charly Stevens Series Book 2


Charly Stevens has come to accept that it is time to move forward with her life, so she and Lola are plowing straight ahead… into even more mystery and intrigue. With the help of her faithful friends Hadley and EJ, the team takes on a case to find a missing dog and they inadvertently cross paths with Charly’s new love interest, Riley Jordan. Riley and his partner, Tank, are investigating a string of break ins in the surrounding area and find clues that link back to the murder of Riley’s father, when Riley was young. Working together to help solve the case is exhilarating for the new couple, but it also places both of them in harms way. Come along on this next adventure in the Charly Stevens series: Acceptance.






Two Sharpe Publishing was created as a company to publish some books that my daughter and I wrote together.  This was not something Amanda nor I had ever even dreamed of, but then life has a way of sending you down the path that it wants… regardless of where you were planning on going.
On September 16, 2015, Amanda’s husband Kevin was on his way home from work late one night and was waiting for traffic to clear in the left turn lane about a mile from their home.  A drunk driver coming from behind Kevin, at what was estimated 75 mph in a 45 mph zone, veered out of the travel lanes and struck Kevin in the rear of his Dodge Neon with a full-size SUV.  Kevin was killed instantly in the crash.
Several months after Kevin’s death, Amanda wrote an autobiography of her life with Kevin called Stolen and she asked me if I would help edit the book.  Once we put the finishing touches on Stolen, we decided we would cowrite a fictional series called The Charly Stevens series.
People deal with the loss of a loved one in many different ways. After starting the Charly Stevens Series, we came up with another fictional series called Road Rage The Blog. It is a real time blog written by Simon, a man who has a great deal of rage, especially when he gets in a car.
Once we had an idea for the above projects, we needed a Social Engineer to handle publishing, website development, cover art, and social media for our company.  We were lucky enough to convince Kris Spoon to join our team.  Kris has a wide range of experience in the world of publishing and social media and has used those unique skills to create a platform for not only the works we have created to date, but for those to come.  We hope in the future to be able to help other authors bring their works to life through our company.
Thank you for reading about Two Sharpe Publishing!
-Amanda, Kris, & Scott-




Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!



Awakening 


Mrs. Paulson was just sitting down at the table with a cup of coffee in front of her, and there was a second cup sitting in front of the chair across from her, steam rising from the cup. 
Take a seat dear, I won’t bite.”  
I smiled and slid into the chair across from her, all the while trying to figure out how she knew I was coming, there is steam coming out of the cup meant for me! 
She lifted her eyes to meet mine, “When did you lose him?” 
Almost a year ago,” stuttering at first. Just saying it out loud felt like someone just stuck an ice pick in my chest. “How did you know?”
Mrs. Paulson, “EJ” as she told me to call her again, began “I was married to a wonderful man, Harold, for 36 years. We were never blessed with children, but Harold and I loved animals something fierce and we spent our love on our animals. Harold was such a wonderful man, he would give you the shirt off his back...actually, that’s how we met,” she said with a wicked little smile.  
I chuckled as EJ continued, a sparkle in her eyes, “Harold was always helping people, he would deliver meals to people who were sick or injured. We both volunteered at the local animal shelter to help them find people to adopt the animals that came in. One night, Harold was on his way home after delivering meals and a drunk driver came careening through a red light and struck my Harold broadside, he died instantly according to the police.”  
I made an audible gasp and my hands started shaking while tears fell down my cheeks. EJ smiled a half smile and put her hand over mine, “Harold and I had 36 beautiful years together, I can’t complain.”  
I grabbed a napkin from the holder and dried my face and blew my nose. I was just about to say something when EJ continued. 
I took Harold’s death hard, he was my everything. I didn’t handle it well at all, I kind of checked out for a while. About a year after Harold’s death, I began having this vivid dream with Harold and me. It was the same dream every night. Then one night the dream changed. Harold said something in the dream that he never had before. I didn’t think much about it at first and then I found that the things he was saying to me in the dream, were real.”  
My eyes bulged almost out of my head when she said this, and she smiled, knowingly at me. 
It took me some time, but I eventually pieced together what he was telling me, and I ended up finding Pookie. He was abused, emaciated, and in terrible shape, but I found him just where my Harold told me to look in my dreams. That was 15 years ago.” EJ looked over at me and smiled, then she patted my hand and said, “You can take a breath now dear.”  
I didn’t realize I was holding it as I let out my breath loudly and took several more to steady myself. This was unbelievable, EJ had just given voice to what I have been thinking for several days, I thought I was just going mad! 
Taking another breath, I said, “That is a lot to take in. I have to say I have been having a similar experience, but I thought I was going crazy.”  
EJ started laughing and said, “Dear, do you think I thought I had all my cookies in the jar after all that happened to me? It took me a long time to let my mind accept what was happening.”  
Is that it, is that all that happened? You found Pookie?” I asked after taking a few moments to process.
I figure that each of us that have been given this gift are given the responsibility that goes along with it. It was not only for my benefit that this happened. Over the years Pookie and I have helped rescue over 100 animals that were lost or being abused. And over those same years I have asked myself all the time why this ability, this gift? All I can think of is that Harold and I shared a love and passion for animals. I think maybe when someone is taken suddenly, the way Harold and your Kevin were, their love, or at least some of it, stays here with us. Maybe that is how this connection or bond is formed.  
Harold came to me in my dreams until I found Pookie and then believe it or not, Pookie was the one that helped me find the others. I think Harold might be speaking to me through Pookie. If you pay close enough attention, they are speaking to you in their own way.  I stopped asking questions a long time ago and just started paying attention and trusting my instincts...and Pookie’s.” She smiled.

Manga Madness #Readathon | August 10 - 18, 2018 | Hosted by @CoffeeandBook18 #MangaMadnessReadathon

Manga Madness Readathon 
Hosted by Jade @CoffeeandBook18!
Round 3 will take place August 10th-18th, 2018! 





Into the Woods: Stories, Poems, Essays & More by Mindful Writers Retreat Authors - #BookTour & #Giveaway

Into the Woods: Stories, Poems, Essays & More by Mindful Writers Retreat Authors
Book Tour Campaign








Into the Woods is the title and theme for this assortment of short stories, poems, essays, music, and one walking meditation. Each piece is unique in tone and genre and the result is that the collection captures the fascinating, frightening, fun, healing, and fantastical wonder of time spent in the woods. 

The twenty-six contributors who attend Mindful Writers Retreats in the mountains of Ligonier, Pennsylvania, are donating one hundred percent of the proceeds to support the research and work of The Children’s Heart Foundation.


Available at....











Book Excerpts
Short Story
TRAIN WRECK
by Kathleen Shoop


Ellie Trumbull squinted out the window of the Uber, gripping the door handle. The car swerved and bounced up the long driveway leading to the retreat center where the courts had sent Ellie for punishment. She grabbed her stomach to stave off nausea, but when it began to launch itself she smacked the driver’s arm. He slowed and stopped. Ellie pulled the handle, and tumbled out of the door onto all fours, heaving.
She gasped for breath, dizzied. Voices sounded as she struggled to stand. She focused on the group heading toward her: two women, a man, and several children who simply bolted past her, their squealing laughter filling the air.
A graceful woman with gray, bunned hair and dark skin approached. She took Ellie’s arm and pulled her close, leading her into a building. “Welcome. I’m Vera.”
“I’m Alice.” A stout woman with platinum spiked hair followed along.
A lanky man with hair so perfect it looked plastic picked up Ellie’s duffel bag. “I’m Brandon. Your husband’ll send the rest of your luggage shortly.”
Ellie grunted. They led her upstairs. Brandon rushed ahead to open a door. Ellie shuffled inside.
“Your room,” he said. “I’ll set your bag here.”
Ellie looked over her shoulder to see him smiling, as he’d been doing since she arrived. “Thanks, Guy Smiley.”
“What?”
She ignored his question, held onto one of the top bunks and surveyed the space. Three large windows at the end of the room and three sets of bunks with plastic mattresses belted the perimeter.
Ellie collapsed onto a bed.
“Plastic makes it easy to clean,” Vera said.
“Shut those.” Ellie shook her hand at the windows.
The woman sighed, closed the curtains and lowered the blind that covered the center pane. She lifted Ellie’s feet off the floor and swung them onto the bed. “Housekeeping’ll make up the bed in a little bit.”
“Fine,” Ellie groaned.
Vera loosened Ellie’s shoelaces.
Ellie snatched her feet away. “I’m fine.”
Vera backed away, her large hands flailing for a moment before she tucked them against her belly. “Our healing circle begins in an hour.”
Ellie turned away and balled up. Leave me alone.
And a few seconds later the door clicked shut.
***
Giggling children and the sound of feet running down the hallway outside Room 2 woke Ellie. Her mouth was desert dry, so she headed downstairs to the great room where she saw a kitchen area. With the kids gone, the silence felt good.
Ellie startled at the sight of Alice, Vera, and Guy Smiley sitting around an island. Guy Smiley poured coffee. Healing circle.
“Ellie,” he said. “Welcome.”
Vera sliced banana bread. The scent threatened Ellie’s stoic facade. A smile tugged her lips, but she tucked away the fleeting happy sensation, hid it where it wouldn’t remind her how Maggie’s face would light up when she bit into her favorite treat.
Alice clomped her feet onto the coffee table. Vera batted them away and pushed the banana bread toward Ellie.
She looked away.
“I’ll take hers,” said Alice.
“I’d like to begin,” Vera said, her voice gentle and melodic. “The healing circle guides us into continued acceptance and strengthens our endurance as we grow through the pain that comes with losing a child. Each of us understands the daily shock of waking and realizing our lives will never be the same. So how do we go on?”
Guy Smiley sipped coffee. “Feels good to be with everyone.”
“Each time we meet I do better back home,” Vera said.
“Same,” Alice said.
“We hope you’ll find our group helpful, Ellie,” Vera said.
When Ellie didn’t respond the others went around describing how they lost their child. Ellie blocked out every word, rubbing her temples. Her own pain was enough. She wasn’t about to invite theirs inside. Her gaze strayed to the kids outside, the game of tag that left them breathless, rolling down the hill and out of sight. How lucky they were.
“Ellie?” Alice asked. Ellie turned her gaze back to see Alice glaring.
“It’ll help,” sweet Vera said. “To share.”
Guy Smiley slid forward in his seat, fingers steepled. “Change brings…blah, blah … comfort, healing…” He droned on and on and finally Ellie’s mind snapped back to what he first said.
Change?” Ellie said.
He nodded. They all did.
Ellie’s anger surged. She wiped spittle from her lip. “I don’twantchange. I feel Maggie more now than I ever did… before she died I couldn’t wait to get to work, or girls’ night out or go away with my husband. My daughter… difficult from the day she was born… is dead. I’ll never sit with you people thinking about change and eating stinking banana bread.”
She stood and stomped away.
“She don’t want help,” Alice said.
“But her husband…” Brandon said.
Ellie got farther away, unable to hear what they said. Her husband? He was finished with her. She jogged to her room and crashed onto the mattress that housekeeping hadn’t yet returned to make. She covered her face and held back tears. With balled fists she tried to resist.
But she couldn’t.
Up off the bed, Ellie dug through her duffel and found it. Vodka. Cap unscrewed, she gulped, washing away the scent of banana bread, the thought that she’d never again see Maggie’s smile when she took a bite of it.


***
Short Story
EIRA
by Wende Dikec

The lights went out, and Eira held her breath, waiting for the emergency generator to work. It started with a shudder and a horrific crunching noise, but at least it continued to function.
She closed her eyes, feeling the fear in her chest ease when she heard the comforting sound of the humming engine. She couldn’t bear the thought of being left cold and alone in the dark.
Tugging her pale, blond hair into a ponytail, she pulled her ragged wool cardigan tightly across her body and walked over to the window of Alexander House, a grand name for such a Spartan hunting cabin, to peek outside. She waited for the sun to come up, looking out the dirty glass pane, and continued to stare out the window long after the sun rose in the sky. She didn’t know why she bothered. She saw nothing outside except the same white expanse she’d seen every day for the last five lonely months.
Eira opened the door to grab some wood from the pile for her fire, her body flinching from the chill of the icy wind. She had enough wood to last a few more weeks, and then she’d have to make the dangerous trip into the forest to chop more. She dreaded it, but not as much as she dreaded living without the generator. If she rationed carefully, she’d have enough fuel for another month, but she wasn’t sure what she’d do after that. She hadn’t planned on being stranded for such a long time. Spring should have arrived almost two months ago.
She blinked in surprise when she saw a figure moving toward her house, struggling in the waist deep snow. Eira squinted against the harsh sunlight reflecting off the white landscape, trying to make out if the approaching form was human or animal, friend or foe, but she could see very little at this distance. She stumbled back into her warm little house, and reached for her heavy coat. She quickly slipped on her snowshoes before grabbing her gun, a nervous sense of excitement building inside her. If it was a person, it would be the first human being she’d seen in months. If it was an animal, she’d shoot it and have food for a week. And if it was one of the strange ones, the creatures that were no longer human yet not completely animal, she’d kill it without remorse and leave its carcass for the hungry bears to find.
She waited on her front porch, her gun ready as it came closer. It looked human, bundled under layers of heavy clothing, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice echoing in the quiet wilderness.
The figure stopped moving and looked directly at her. She could see a dark beard covering the skin exposed beneath protective ski goggles. It was a man.
“My name is Ben,” he said, his voice sounding scratchy and strange, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. “I saw the smoke from your fire. Can I come in and warm up?”
Eira paused, considering his request. He seemed human enough, but it was a risk. He could steal her food, hurt her, or take her precious fuel. She weighed her options quickly. Loneliness won out over caution, but she wasn’t stupid. She clenched her gun as she waved him in.


***
Poem
FOREST BATHING
by Martha Swiss

I am alone in this place that is alive, anticipating the gift before me.
I open it slowly, with grateful breath, footsteps and heartbeats,
then thankfully sink into the purifying molecules of chlorophyll and humus.
I bask, now able to sense the purpose of ferns, snakeroot, noble trees and the creek that tumbles past my feet.

Crayfish pay me no mind in their muddy caverns.
Trees skyrocket overhead, on a mission.
Chipmunks skitter through leaf litter
and a kingfisher pounds its teal wings heading upstream.
I am dwarfed by the hillside vaulting from the floodplain. Boulders and saplings cling to its spine.

I am free to bathe here in clarified cells of cambium, xylem and phloem.
I wring my sponge in the generosity of flora.
The stream’s effervescence cleanses the tangled energy seeping from my pores.

I celebrate my fresh spirit with a confetti of scarlet, orange and yellow leaves that bob on the breast of the creek
as silently,
the trees disrobe.

***
Short Story
LIGHT OF THE MOON
by Ramona DeFelice Long

After three weeks in jail, Mama asked me to talk to Judge Rousseau about getting her some decent food to eat.
Mon Dieu,I am wasting away,” Mama said from her cell. Behind her, the narrow cot was covered with a quilt from home, and on top of the wooden crate she used as a table was a kerosene lamp on a doily. She’d left a half played game of solitaire spread over the doily. Where she got playing cards, I didn’t know. The Bible that had been on the pillow was nowhere to be seen.
She showed me her bowl of half-eaten stew. I think it was stew. “That old cow Lorraine Badeaux is poisoning me.”
“Hush, Mama,” I said. “Mrs. Badeaux is doing no such thing.”
Mama pressed her face between the bars. Her eyebrows and cheeks lifted up. That, plus the pounds she’d lost eating jail food and all the naps she took out of boredom, made her look as young as me. Trust Mama to turn getting arrested into getting prettier.
“Geneva,cher, just go ask him,” Mama wheedled. “That sheriff can hardly look at this slop. He passes me my plate and runs away. Or maybe he believes I’ll bewitch him, too.”
I begged her not to joke about that.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “And pour l’amour de Dieu, when you go see the judge, don’t wear what you got on. You look like a blind nun dressed you.”
“Mama—”
“Your hair’s all right, but get you some lipstick and rouge and use it. Judge Rousseau is old, but he ain’t dead.”
No, he wasn’t, but his brother-in-law was, and that’s why Mama’s bail was set high as the moon. But explaining that to her was like talking to a tree stump.
I said I had to leave. I was Mama’s only visitor, and she was bitter. Where was our family? Where were her friends? She was lonely and felt forsaken. I never told her that, at home, nobody came to visit me either, and I had not even murdered anybody.
Most days she begged me to stay, but tonight she told me to get on home. I suppose she thought I had a busy evening ahead tarting myself up before going to see the judge.
***
When the young deputy was on duty, he sat in a chair five feet away from Mama’s cell, as if he thought I’d help my mother escape by slipping a bolt cutter under my dress—a dress fit for a convent, indeed, because my teacher contract said I had to “act and keep my person modestly.” I worried every day I’d be fired over Mama’s scandal.
Sheriff Reyes usually sat in his office up front and read the newspaper. When my visiting time was over, he always asked, “Things all right, Miss Geneva?”
I answered, “Yes, Sheriff, thank you,” except for the time or two when Mama asked for a warmer shawl or the quilt off her bed.
Once, horrifyingly, I had to say I needed to come right back; when he frowned, I whispered that Mama needed some womanly things. He let me into her cell with a paper sack that he did not inspect. Had I been wily, I could have slipped her anything—a pistol, liquor, tonic from Madame Velda—but wily was Mama’s way, not mine. The sheriff trusted me. If you can’t trust a twenty-year-old spinster schoolteacher who dresses as modestly as a nun, you have faith in no one.
Tonight, Sheriff Reyes stood at the window. The kerosene lamp on his desk lit him up from behind: tall, broad-shouldered, brown hair cut short but still wavy. On one of those shoulders was the scar from a shell that blew him out of the sniper’s nest he’d sat in for three days, picking off Germans but never giving away his position. I’d read that in the Bossier City newspaper, when he’d come home a hero after the war ended.
He turned around and said, “Your mother’s right. Mrs. Badeaux can’t cook.”
I didn’t speak; he was also very handsome.


***

into the woods SQ teaser



Mindful Writers Retreat Authors 
Many of the writers who contributed to the anthology. 
The retreats happen at Ligonier camp and conference center in Ligonier, PA. Tenth retreat is coming up this fall!


Twenty-six Mindful Writers Retreat Authors contributed to Into the Woods. The group consists of bestsellers, award-winners, first-time authors, seasoned veterans, poets, memoirists, essayists, musicians, journalists, novelists, and short story writers who are traditionally, self and hybrid published. At Mindful Writers Retreats the labels don’t create a hierarchy, but instead reveal the richness of those who attend. Every single writer contributes to the magic and the fun that results from meditation, walking in the woods, and hour upon hour of mindful writing.


Authors in alphabetical order:
Lorraine Bonzelet
Wende Dikec
Teresa Futrick
Selah Gray
Hilary Hauck
Michele Zirkle
Eileen Enwright Hodgetts
Larry Ivkovich
Lori M. Jones
Kimberly Kurth-Gray
Laura Lovic-Lindsay
Ramona DeFelice Long
MaryAlice Meli
Gail Oare Sher Pensiero
Kim Pierson
Cara Reinard
James Robinson, Jr.
Larry Schardt
Linda K. Schmitmeyer
Carol Schoenig
Kathleen Shoop
Martha Swiss
Amy Walter
Madhu Bazaz Wangu
Denise Weaver

Many of the writers who contributed to the anthology. 
The retreats happen at Ligonier camp and conference center in Ligonier, PA. Tenth retreat is coming up this fall!

Find the Mindful Writers Retreat Series on Facebook HERE

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NOW FOR THE AUTHOR'S GIVEAWAY
1st Prize 
$50 Amazon GC and a copy of into the woods 
2nd Prize 
$25 Amazon GC and a copy of into the woods
Open Worldwide
Ending on Sunday 5th August at 11.59pm EST


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