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The Turn of the Karmic Wheel
Type: Supernatural , Horror
Author: Monica Brinkman
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The Turn of the Karmic Wheel is a unique, fresh approach of how each individual’s actions in life affect the masses. Set in the small college town of Raleigh, MO, the author delves into the psyche of several residents who live vastly different lifestyles. From the affluent to the poor, we follow each characters’ journey through life be it one of faith, self-indulgence, greed, kindness or diversity. Angela Frank, a young wife, mother, psychiatrist and reluctant psychic, holds the key to unleashing a force more powerful than humankind has ever experienced as universal law takes hold, ultimately revealing the characters inner self, their soul. Under such scrutiny, some will face horrific consequences of their life’s actions,while others will find absolute pleasure. From Joshua Allen, an egotistical, handsome, dashing young man to Euclid Hannigan, a simple country middleaged retiree, you will be moved with emotion when the demons hidden deep within or the joy of gentleness and compassion surface as each characters story unfolds to a final climatic finish.

Rating: Unrated



Sample Chapter

ROSIE RICHARDS

Rosie Richards sat behind her newly polished mahogany desk fumbling through the mass of paperwork in front of her. She gestured for the young newlywed couple, Robbie and Christina Grant, to take a seat in one of the matching chairs facing her.

"Fine day to purchase the home of your dreams, isn’t it," she questioned. Rosie stared at the young couple through white rimmed rhinestone glasses, her initials, RR, embossed in each corner in gold. She had taken on that matronly look. From the sagging jowls and baggy, puffy eyes, to what she called ‘that damn turkey neck’, she looked every bit of her sixty years of age. Her glaring orange hair, which she considered her best feature, was upswept in a curly bun accented by a small green bow.

Rosie did her best to be well put together, always wearing nail tips of the French manicure she preferred over what she called plain one-tone nail color. She wouldn’t be caught dead without full makeup. She occasionally went a bit overboard in the eyeliner and eye shadow department, thinking – erroneously – it took years off her age. In reality, it made her look sort of like a pre-teenager still learning how to apply makeup correctly. Today she’d chosen light green eye shadow, dark green liner, and black mascara applied over long luscious lashes, one of her God-given attributes.

She set down her paperwork, looked the timid couple squarely in the face and said, "I know you believe you can’t afford it, so let me make it easy for you. I’ll make sure the paperwork can undergo any amount of scrutiny from the underwriting team. The first five years of the loan gives you a low very affordable monthly payment. By the time you reach the sixth year, you have choices. Number one, sell the place, make a bundle and upgrade. Number two, refinance and get a lower interest rate. Number three, you’ll most likely have an increase in wages within five years, so the higher interest and monthly payment should not affect you at all. You can keep the property and the loan will remain as originally contracted. Any way you look at it, you win, plus you are starting your married life off with what most couples can only dream about. You’ll Monica M. Brinkman 36

have your very own home with room for that family that will come along." The smiling couple nodded in agreement as Rosie continued her sales pitch, saying, "The area is the best, with the highest rated schools in town. So what do you say, kids, do we sign the papers today? Because a house such as this’ll be gone fast like a bunny. Fact is, I have two other interested buyers, but I wanted to give you two youngsters the chance to have first pick. I like you. Old Rosie knows how tough it is out there in the world, and when I can help someone, heck, I do it. How about it? You two can talk it over while I run across the street for five minutes. I’ll be back and you let me know what you think." Before either of the couple had a chance to answer, Rosie was gone. She left the two young adults to ponder the purchase, but she knew she had them right where she wanted them, salivating over the prospect of owning a home. It was something their friends didn’t have; they’d be the envy of their crowd. It always worked. If the figures weren’t just right, well, she knew how to juggle them around to fit what the underwriting team needed to get the loan through. After all, she was the best realtor in this town; had been for over thirty years. Sure, the kids might have problems in five years, but today they were going to be real homeowners. This was her main goal, to sell that house; make the paperwork get through the bank loan department, and the rest was easy. Rosie entered the ladies’ room, washed her hands, which were dirty from handling paperwork and filling out forms all day. Noticing a stray lock of hair that had fallen out of place, she secured it tightly using two golden bobbie pins, then walked back into the hall toward her office. She was confident the deal would be sealed, come hell or high water. And right she was. After a bit more idle chitchat with the couple, explaining only what she legally was bound to tell them, the paperwork was signed. Rosie gave the now deliriously joyful pair their copies, wished them well, and set up a meeting with them for the following Thursday to let them know if the loan was approved and when they should expect escrow to close.

Exhausted, she plopped down into her seat, all two hundred seventy pounds of woman, started to sort through the day’s mail when she noticed a manila envelope addressed to her. No return address. With one THE TURN OF THE KARMIC WHEEL 37

swift rip, a shiny DVD disc fell on top of her pile of papers. She picked up the disc, ready to toss it into the wastebasket, thinking to herself, when are these yim yads going to quit sending all this junk mail to me? At the last second she decided to take a closer look. Couldn’t hurt. "Well, I’ll be! Someone put a pretty picture of me right here on the front of this DVD." Her curiosity got the better of her as she walked over to the computer, slid the disc into the compartment and settled down to view the contents. She grinned from ear to ear as the cutest little calico kitten jumped, frolicked, and played with one of those catnip mice found in any pet or food store. She could hear the kitten’s meow and small growl as it scurried back and forth with that little mouse in its front paws. The tiny animal waved the toy in the air, let it go, and then pounced on it again. The little thing must have been tired; it left the catnip-scented mouse, circled around a few times, lay down and started purring as it licked its front paw. Such a content and sweet little purr this kitty has, thought Rosie, and chuckled at the kitten’s antics. She relaxed and settled in to see what the small cat would do next. Rosie stared in disbelief, shook her head, her eyes open wide and doubled in size. Soon her chuckling was replaced by gasps of bewilderment as the kitty turned its face toward her and said, "Ye be warned. Ye beware, soon’s a time you’ll not prosper. Listen to me if ye dare." The formerly adorable little kitty’s mouth was snarling and growling the words which had an echoing effect as they were repeated over and over again. They grew louder and louder, each word and each distinct syllable sending daggers of fear into Rosie’s heart. The kitty turned once more, looked Rosie square in the face, and let out the most ghastly growl and hiss she’d ever heard, a grisly mocking tone that reverberated and echoed through the air, followed by complete silence as the screen turned suddenly black.

After a few seconds, Rosie regained her composure and managed to walk over to the computer, jerk the disc out of the slot and heave it into the trashcan. "What kind of buffoon would play a hoax such as this on me," Rosie asked, vocalizing her reaction to this sick scenario. "I’ll surely not allow some nincompoop to ruin my day, and what do they mean, I’ll not prosper. Me, not prosper? They sure as hell don’t know good ole Monica M. Brinkman 38

Rosie, do they? It’ll take more than some little pussy to scare the wits out of me. Probably just some sucker trying to get even with me for the mortgage they are stuck with," she reasoned. "Won’t do them any good at all." Rosie shook herself off, patted her hair in place and waddled out the office door, heading home.




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