About Luck Be a Lady:
Mason Hart has just lost his job, fiancé, and car in less than 48-hours. A short time later he accosts a cop and ends up in jail. He finally lands in a hospital as the result of a jailhouse brawl. He’s helpless to quell this downhill slide into calamity. Since he believes all is lost at this point, suicide seems the only alternative left…
Until the figure of Felicity Fortune, the Roman Goddess of Luck, interrupts Mason’s suicidal plans in the nick of time. It seems Felicity Fortune was hampered by the bird flu and few other appointments, so she must apologize for her tardy appearance. She tells Mason that he’s ripe for a cosmic alignment, and that his 15-minutes of fame and wealth are finally at hand. He is allotted six chances via the roll of the golden dice for his deserved share of the “Great Cornucopia.”
Beshaba, the Maid of
Misfortune, has ear-marked Mason at the exact same time, to heap upon
him the bad luck part of the equation. She is the evil incarnate
daughter of Felicity, and now covets Mason for her own devious
alignment. Everything that Beshaba represents is in stark contrast to
her mother. It is a deliberate ploy to spite the good works of her
mother, thus laying down a challenge of cosmic power.
Their
simultaneous claim to Mason forces the two Goddesses into a mythological
cat fight in hell. When this push and shove reaches a fevered pitch,
even the destiny of mankind in called into question. Mason must find the
solution and tear away the veil of darkness that could upset the divine
balance between good and evil. What he doesn’t know is that the final
key to the solution is himself.
Excerpt:
Mason tried to speak but his lips were stuck together, so he grimaced and felt a tear and a stream of spittle over his chin. He pushed some wind up through his throat and a sound escaped. “Haaaagh.”
He tried again. “Halp guh!”
Struggling, he swallowed a small puddle of saliva and tried once more.
“Help ma,” he finally uttered.
He raised his eyelids again, but he only saw dappled light juxtaposed behind a milky film that he supposed was his vision trying to clear. Blinking several times to wash away the glue-like residue, he saw a familiar box-like object that sat perched high up in the corner of a room. The object was a television set, but it was hanging on the ceiling, which seemed terribly wrong. Televisions always sat on the floor or at eye level.
He shuddered, believing he had ended up topsy-turvy in an 8.5 earthquake and was now on the ceiling looking up at the floor.
“Halp,” he called weakly, certain that rescue workers would bring their chainsaws and axes.
With eyes still out of focus, he saw something that looked like a small snowstorm with red stripes appear from a hole in the wall. It drew closer, moving swiftly around him. In the next moment, the conflagration came at him and he could see the static outline of a human being in the blur of colors. A face as big as a truck came over him to look down into his eyes, and then felt a cool mop on his forehead. A warm breath washed over his cheek with some words.
“There, there, you’re going to be just fine. Try to relax. I’m Wendy, and I’m a candy striper here at Juliet hospital. You’ve had an accident and we’re taking care of you. Do you understand?”
“Assident?”
“Yes, you had a little problem in incarceration. But that was after your car was stolen. They transferred you here from the main jail. That’s all over now. What you need to do is rest. How is your head feeling?”
“Tellible.”
“Do you have pain anywhere else?”
He made the effort to formulate words and spoke slowly. “If I have … pain … I don’t … feel it.”
“Ah, then that might be a good sign.” She furrowed her brows. “I think. Try to stay awake before you fall asleep. Okay? You wait right here. I’ll get you a real nurse.” With a flourish, she vanished.
“Okay.” Mason realized
he had been abandoned by the candy striper girl and tried to gather his
thoughts, but his eyelids grew heavy again and he lapsed in and out of
consciousness.
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