Last week, my girlfriend gave me a refrigerator magnet with the definition for Coffeegasm written on it. I had never heard the word before, nor the meaning. Still, I loved the gift. Without a doubt, it’s me.
The definition reads.
Coffeegasm {noun}: that little rush you feel after the first sip of good, strong coffee.
It’s not a real word but so what. It’s an accurate depiction of what I feel when I take that first sip of coffee.
The problem is, it wasn’t the police who picked her up. She was kidnapped, snatched off the streets of NYC, as she was walking home from work. Only a block away from her apartment building, tired after a long, hard day, someone pushes her from behind into the open door of a taxi stopped by the sidewalk.
Flailing, she is caught in the waiting arms of a man who puts a foul-smelling cloth over her mouth and nose. Moments later, she is unconscious as the taxi joins the vast sea of other cabs navigating the seemingly friendly chasms of the city. Did anyone notice her abduction? Did anyone call the police? A couple of hours later and still unconscious, she is on a plane and well beyond the borders of her native country.
It’s a brutal erotic suspense thriller about Avril Gillios, a young woman in her mid-twenties, who get’s caught up in an international organized crime ring specializing in human trafficking. The thousand-year old organization call themselves ‘The Consortium.’ Their affluent and influential members can order or acquire anyone, men and women alike, to satisfy their unique needs and desires. From organ acquisition; to perverse sexual satisfaction; or feasting upon their prey, they seemingly operate above the law all across the globe.
Told from Avril’s point of view, the story describes how this criminal organization targets her, kidnaps her right off the streets of NYC and sells her to the highest bidder; marking the beginning of a new life, forever barred from returning to the only life she ever knew.
Copyright (c) Richard Verry 2016
She must navigate the perilous events that threaten her life to survive her ordeal and attempt escape. Sold to a sadistic monster, her captivity is relatively comfortable. Locked in a luxurious suite with all the trimmings included in the most elegant high-end apartments enjoyed by the upper one-percenters, a cage is still a cage.
She endures brutal beatings and violent ravishments as her new owner trains her to be compliant to his demands and needs. Along the way, she discovers that her sadistic owner, in his own way, loves her.
Confused and bewildered, she must figure out how to navigate the ever narrowing serpentine path to escape the growing threat to her life. Her captor eventually gives her an impossible choice, one that takes away all doubt of what he intends to do with her. However, he requires that she select the path that her life will take. Failing to choose is the same as choosing a horrific, slow, and painful death.
Will she choose life or death? I encourage you to find out for yourself.
Give it a go and let me know what you thought about the book. Then ask yourself. Could this happen to you or one of your loved ones; a son or a daughter, a niece or a nephew?
I hate to think so but, yes it could. My advice? Be vigilant with whom you share your personal information with. You might not like what the do with it.
That’s right, too much of a good thing is often too much.
If you love ice cream, eating a cone every so often is a savory treat that coats your tongue with exploding flavors as its cooling succulence slips down your throat. Even eating it once a day, in small portions, is manageable. Force fed it continuously, hour after hour, every day, well I know that I will soon hate the stuff.
That’s how I feel about some bloggers I follow. Many I eagerly look forward to, soaking in their insights on the world around them. I enjoy reading about their inner struggles and their ways in coping with life.
What I don’t like are posts done six to ten times a day, touting this or that, or promoting their wares. I want to support them. I really do. However, I am finding that I simply delete the unread post from my inbox. I am treating the posts as junk mail. Yes, I know it’s not fair. However, is it fair to be inundated with a dozen posts or more every day? Nope. Perhaps you feel the same way?
Just over a year ago, I was working with a publicist that wanted me to post something of 300 to 600 words at least daily, more if I could manage it. The idea was that the more I post, the more people would find me, and follow. At the time, I knew nothing. I trusted what I thought of as an expert. So, I tried. Six months later, we parted ways, but I still decided to follow the recommendations.
What did it get me? I started hating the idea of posting an article, especially daily articles. It took a lot of time away from my novels, stories, and painting. I also started to feel like it was too much ice cream.
Fortunately, I suffered a severe concussion last summer that I am still dealing with the aftereffects today. What it did for me in posting articles was first, a well-needed break. Then, I had a whole new topic to write about and share.
In the writings, I knew that I had to give you, my readers, something they wished to read. I did not want to fill them with fluff about marketing my books. I wanted to give you want you liked. I also had trouble with cognitive and creative thought, so I landed upon the idea of posting the ‘Word of the Day.’ Using M-W, I used them to add my personal two cents to their daily word.
Easy I thought. The trouble was, I was really getting into researching the word, finding images to support the word and then adding my two cents. Towards the end of last year, I was spending upwards of two hours a day, fascinated by the word, and digging deeper into it. As the holidays rolled around, I found that I was, once again, getting tired of the daily grind of blogging.
As you may have noticed, I have since cut down my posts to once or twice a week. I can manage that, I think. Since my cognitive and creative streams of thought are slowly returning, I am writing once again, focusing on the final tweaks to my new book, ‘The Trafficking Consortium.’ I’m even thinking about a sequel to the story, but that’s down the road.
Limiting my posts gives me the time to work on why you follow me. Many of you are looking forward to my next release, and have written me asking when, et.all. How cool is that? Anyway, with summer approaching, I must decide between blogging and writing. I think writing is going to win every time.
Happiness, is it fleeting or can it be real and sustainable? Over the past week or so, I wrote a series of articles on happiness. When I started on the project, I wanted to refer to more generalities. Yet, as I started writing my first article I discovered that I could not write about happiness in general terms but as it referred to me. I didn’t know how else to say it.
Earlier in the week, someone wrote me, asking the question, “What is Love without Color?” Perhaps you received a similar question from this person. I answered back, “Color attracts but distorts, lack of color reveals one’s true self and is sustainable.” I could ask the same question regarding happiness.
“What is happiness without color?” What do you think?
Upon reflection, color, as it applies to love or happiness, could have many good answers. My answer was just one. I had given my answer much thought before I replied. Answers I could have sent were “Color reveals and attenuates love,” or “Color shouts love to the world to see and share.” Several other answers come to mind.
Substitute happiness for love, and I dare say, the answers remain the same or at least similar.
But my articles go deeper than that. I really believe in the difference between short-term and long-term happiness. I think that everyone needs and yearns for both. Single night encounters with someone that gets your rocks off is beautiful and delicious. However, it’s not the same as sharing years with someone who knows you inside and out and feeds your needs in bed and in everyday life.
A child is thrilled when he or she opens a present on his birthday or at a holiday. They squeal with joy in finding a treasure in the form of a doll or toy truck. It’s a short-term happiness for sure. Their real happiness, long and sustaining happiness comes from the love and care of their parents, mentor, caregiver or siblings. An adult does the same thing. Flipping a property for profit versus the years satisfying a desire or need to succeed in their chosen career as a building contractor are examples of short-term and long-term happiness.
“Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.” Bob Marley
How astute is Bob’s quote. I think he captured some of what I feel in just nine words. To me, happiness come from enjoying life, participating in life, interacting with all life, and appreciating all life. If you haven’t guessed, when I use the word life, I refer not to just all people, but life in general. From the worm in the ground to the plants we walk on or appreciate from afar, to the pets and wildlife who enrich our lives, and to people around the world, who help us with our car registrations to the ones that we come home to, everyday. They all have something to enhance our individual lives. Acceptance is crucial or we can never be happy either in the short-term or the long-term.
Some people find happiness in loving others, caring for others, or abusing others. I don’t understand the last, but I accept that it is real. We all know that there are monsters out there. I even write about them in some of my novels. I just can’t relate to them.
I firmly believe in the concept of ‘doing whatever makes you happy.’ What I would like to wish for this world we live in is ‘Doing whatever makes you happy as long as it does not hurt or harm another.’
I dare say, there are some out there, perhaps even some who read this article, who won’t agree with my clarification.
So, I ask you. Do you feel the rain or do you just get wet? What do you think? Do you agree? Write me and let me know. I welcome your thoughts. In the meantime, I trust you’ll have a good day and a better tomorrow.
During your annual physical, a well-paid receptionist forwards your chart to an international human trafficking ring. A clear violation of the Hipaa Laws, but who cares? Money is a great incentive.
Consider what happens after they take you, ship you off, and sell you at auction? Can you imagine your new life? Can you imagine a life as owned property?
Avril Gillios doesn’t have to imagine it; she has to live it. The question is, can she survive it?
After you read this novel, you will forever worry for yourself and your loved ones. Could it happen to you?
The Trafficking Consortium, the new novel by writer, author Richard Verry, available right now at RichardVerry.com
It’s not a real word but so what. It’s an accurate depiction of what I feel when I take that first sip of coffee.
As you may have noticed, I have since cut down my posts to once or twice a week. I can manage that, I think. Since my cognitive and creative streams of thought are slowly returning, I am writing once again, focusing on the final tweaks to my new book, ‘
