Proposed cover for “Impossible Hope” anthology
The Superversive Press anthology “Impossible Hope” is now available, but not at Amazon or any other well-known retailer.
28-year-old Bonnie Oliver was diagnosed with Complex Chiari Malformation, Craniocervical and Atlanto-axial Instability and Ehlers Danlos Syndrome type three in 2018. It has been a long and wearisome road to these answers, and her family has watched her health decline for over a decade, with a marked downturn over the past six years. She can’t leave her home without help from a walker and preferably one or two helping hands, and even with that level of support she cannot be out for long.
In order to help Bonnie and raise funds for research into these terrible disorder, A.M. Freeman organized the “Impossible Hope” project. She asked any author who was willing to donate a short story to the anthology which would be sold to raise such funds. That’s why you can’t find this book on Amazon or Barnes and Nobel. You can only get it by donating on Bonnie’s GoFundMe. Donate to help us reach the goal of $110,000 for her surgery, and then download a digital copy of the book. Couldn’t be simpler.
A.M. Freeman as found on her blog.
I’m actually pretty honored. My first introduction to the idea that it might actually be possible to be published was through Superversive Press (though this is the first of their books in which a story of mine is featured). I finally get to share a table of contents with my teacher L. Jagi Lamplighter and her husband John C. Wright. Others with whom I’m acquainted who have donated of their talents are Dave Higgins, Frank B. Luke, Ben Wheeler, Denton Salle, and particularly Sam M. Phillips from Zombie Pirate Publishing (one of the two indie publishers which first published one of my works).
Proposed cover for “Impossible Hope” anthology
I mentioned Bonnie Oliver’s Impossible Hope last February and again in May. Here’s A.M. Freeman’s description of Bonnie and the purpose of the “Impossible Hope” project:
For over a decade, Bonnie Oliver has gone from doctor to doctor seeking answers to her worsening physical and neurological symptoms. It has been a long and wearisome road, and her family has had to watch as her health declined to the point where, at only 28 years of age, she can no longer leave her home unaided, and even then for only short periods of time.
The idea was for authors to donate short stories to an anthology project called “Impossible Hope” so it could be published and sold to fund Bonnie’s surgery for https://www.ehlers-danlos.com/ (click the links I’ve provided above for more).
The project required:
The Wraith woke up as a man this morning. The Wraith’s wounds have been healing and his body is slowly becoming whole. He no longer bleeds. His voice has returned.
The Wraith woke up as a man but he doesn’t stay that way.
The Wraith sleeps, but not well. He sleeps, awakens in the dark, drifts off into the arms of Morpheus, or sometimes into the nothingness.
He awakens again all too soon and time does not allow him to sleep again.
The Wraith wakes up as a man but the man degrades as the day progresses. By noon, he descends and the Wraith takes over more of his mind. There’s nothing the man can do about it. Neither food nor drink nor force of will affects the power of the Wraith to control the man.
The Wraith longs for the quiet and darkness but is surrounded by noise and light. The noise and light and people do not allow the Wraith to descend into darkness and peace. He must pretend to be the man, although the man has long since surrendered to the Wraith.
The surgery is healing but sleep does not let the man stay a man for the entire day. The Wraith lives and acts through most of the day, though he tries to hide this from the people around him. They are human. They wouldn’t understand the needs of the Wraith.
I am the Wraith. I woke up as a man. When will I be able to finally conquer the Wraith and possess all of my waking day? Let the Wraith take the night. I need the day.
The wraith arises when it’s quiet and peaceful. When others are not near or when they still sleep. The wraith does not care if others are near as long as they are unconscious.
Precious is the wraith’s time of peace. All too soon, the others will return or they will arise. In either case, peace will turn to chaos, silent joy to suffering and turmoil.
There is no hunger for the wraith when it is quiet. There is no desire for sustenance. Only the calm of being neither hungry nor full, merely satisfied, as if there were no such thing as desire.
Near the open windows, the air is cool, but the wraith must not leave the protection of these walls. The cool air is pleasant, but the sky is too bright, too painful for his eyes. The beauty of green can only be enjoyed from within the shadows.
The wraith bleeds, not all the time, but periodically. The injury was deliberate, to correct a greater injury, but recovery is slow. The wraith does as he can to slowly purge old blood and mucus, but it reforms. How much of this is left for the wraith to endure?
Footsteps. Chaos returns. If he is minimalist, perhaps the others will be minimalist as well and not overly address the wraith.
The wraith has almost no voice. He wishes this of the others as well, not because they speak ill of him, but because they speak to him at all. When they speak, the peace recedes. He must leave his own mind. He must consider the thoughts of others rather than his own pain.