Tuesday, November 13, 2018

The 5 W's in Story: Sandy Carlson's Tales of the Lost Schooner, Giveaway

The 5 W's of Stories
Hello and welcome to the Focused on Story blog. We continue with the popular series, The 5 W's in Storytelling. Guest authors tell us about the who, what, where, when and why in their stories. This week our guest is multi-talented author, Sandy Carlson. She's a Michigan writer, like me, so we have become friends online. Today she is sharing one of her books based on Michigan history written for middle-grade readers. Her thorough research of the times is evident in her book slipping in information about Michigan, so while the kids are reading and being entertained, by ghost stories in today's book, they are learning history too!

Giveaway: Please leave a comment to enter the drawing for a chance to win a paperback copy of the book to a winner within the United States or an eBook to a winner outside of the US. Deadline for entry is 10:00 pm ET, Sunday, November 18.

Hi Sandy! Welcome. I've taken my Dramamine so I can sail the Great Lakes on the schooner with you!

Tales of the Lost Schooner by Sandy Carlson
Historical fiction ghost stories set in the mid-1800’s

Thanks for inviting me to your blog. Hello to all who’ve dropped by to visit. Today I am sending out the 5-W’s of my middle-grade historical fiction novel, Tales of the Lost Schooner.

In the mid-19th century, 12-year-old Honor Sullivan finds himself and his two younger sisters as street urchins, abandoned by their mother. They decide to join The Orphan Train, taking children off the streets of New York to the frontier “out west” for a better life.

Before getting on the train to their final destination, Honor is shanghaied to work aboard a schooner. He keeps planning on jumping ship (if only he knew how to swim) to reunite with his sisters. He knows the town destination is Dowagiac and is in Michigan, but that’s all. 

The story starts on the streets of New York City. Then we follow Honor on the schooner, The City of Cheektowaga, from Detroit and around Michigan’s lower peninsula to near the southern tip of Lake Michigan.


1854, to be more precise.

Honor needs to find his sisters, make sure they are safe and placed out in good homes.

To keep him from missing them so much, a shipmate tells true ghost stories from around the Great Lakes as they pass those very spots. (The reader also learns a lot of history of early shipping on the Great Lakes.)

If you’d like to leave a comment about how you deal with missing loved ones, please share. Thank you for visiting. Remember any comment will enter you in the drawing.

Tales of the Lost Schooner by Sandy Carlson
for Middle-Grade Readers

Back of the Book: 

The schooner’s captain pulled 12-year-old Honor Sullivan apart from the other orphans. Captain Klaus claimed he needed a strong lad like Honor for a sister he didn’t even have. But Honor has a sister – two of them. The last he’d seen of their fuzzy red heads was the end of September 1854, as they headed down the ship’s plank for the Orphan Train, going off to be placed out with a new family.

Tricked by the captain, and sailing around Michigan’s Mitten, Honor learns the ropes and duties of a sailor. He passes the time aboard down in the dark hold, listening to Old Salty’s tales of shipwrecks and ghosts. The stories won’t distract him for long, though. As soon as he can, Honor plans to abandon ship and go in search of his sisters.

Buy Link: Amazon

About Sandy:
Sandy grew up boating on the Great Lakes. She loves and appreciates each of the five in their unique ways. She also grew up telling ghost stories to her siblings, cousins and friends. Among other places,
Author Sandy Carlson
she’s lived in Cleveland, in Buffalo, in Wisconsin, and in Michigan – a state with 3,126 miles of freshwater coastline.

Filled with the wonder of history, longing adventure on the inland seas and loving story-telling, she’ll be a’tellin’ stories until the day she dies, me maties.

Click here to visit Sandy online at her blog.

GOOD NEWS: Dr. Bob Rich is offering a FREE BOOK EDIT for the winner in his current contest. I'm thrilled to discover my entry, Looking Through Rose-colored Glasses, made the short list! You can read the 1000 word submission along with the other entries at his blog, Bobbing Around. Click here to see the 10 entries. Vote for 3 of your favorites. Deadline for voting is December 23. Thank you.

Monday, November 12, 2018

Veterans Day: Thank You for Your Service, Veteran Stan Hampton!

Summer Travelogue Series
Please note: Originally published on the J.Q. Rose Blog in 2015, but I feel this story of a veteran who served in Kuwait and Iraq is perfect for Veterans Day. Thanks, Stan.

Hello and welcome to the most unusual travelogue you've ever experienced. Meet Stan Hampton,  full-blooded Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to thirteen wonderful grandchildren, multi-genre author, published photographer, and photojournalist. This man of many talents also served in the U.S. Army. Today he takes us behind-the-scenes during his deployment in Kuwait and Iraq, 2006-2007. 

I'm afraid you won't get tips on where-to-go for a great meal or what tour companies to use for sight-seeing. Stan said, "O
ther than three missions into Iraq, or going further south into Kuwait to a big camp, most of my time 'in Iraq' was working and watching DVDs or listening to music in my tent." Join Sergeant First Class Stan Hampton as he experienced his tour through pictures and stories.

Learn more about Stan and his books after the "travelogue."

# # # #

A Soldier's Tour in Kuwait and Iraq with Sergeant First Class Stan Hampton

            It used to be that a journey began with the words, “All aboard! Tickets please, tickets!”
            Then journeys began with, “For the safety briefing, please direct your attention to the stewardess closest to you.” (Or words to that effect.)
            My most memorable journey began on a hot, humid day in southern Mississippi as I and other Soldiers watched a large airplane being loaded with some 400-600 duffel bags (average weight 40-50 pounds each), to be followed by us (some 300 Soldiers) with full backpacks and individual weapons.
            To back up for a moment, the Coalition Forces in Iraq were supplied in great part by logistics (supply) convoys escorted by gun trucks that rumbled out of Kuwait all hours of the day and night. A Wisconsin Army National Guard field artillery battalion was given such a Security Force, SECFOR, mission. They were short of personnel; Cavalry volunteers from Nevada and Arizona, and volunteers from Maine, stood up Company A, and supplied a few individual Soldiers to the other companies.
            Our destination, after two months of pre-deployment training in Mississippi, was Convoy Support Center (CSC) Navistar, a mile south of the Iraqi border. Convoys bound for Iraq picked up gun truck escorts, and convoys coming out dropped off their escorts. During the coming year many Soldiers would spend six months or more escorting logistics convoys on the most dangerous roads in the world.
All aboard!

            Mississippi, July 2006 – someone (I claim it was not I) after watching the loading of the aircraft and as we prepared to board, announced with some trepidation, “That thing better have some big b***s to get us off the ground.” We refueled in Maine, but less than hour over the Atlantic we had to turn back due to a maintenance problem—but that is another story.
Dust storm

            First Dust Storm, 2006 – the average 130-135 degree heat was unbelievable. There are no photographs or video that gets across that feeling to those who did not deploy. People saw the first eerie dusty tendrils stretching toward us from the west, and a lot of people rushed outside to get photographs of this first dust storm. It sure wasn’t our last.
First mission

            First Mission, September 2006 – aside from insurgent activity (which I never experienced), traffic accidents were a common hazard during these convoys. After taking the driver of an 18-wheeler to the medical clinic at CSC Cedar, located off of Main Supply Route Tampa, after such an accident, the gun truck I rode in returned to help with security as the pair of damaged vehicles were recovered. It felt a little strange to be carrying a real weapon with real ammo, and ready to use it. By the way, I was 52 years old when I deployed. This mission lasted from shortly before midnight until after dawn, and I slept for close to 10 hours after returning to Navistar. War is definitely for the young.
Homw away from home

            December 31, 2006 – noteworthy not for the event, but for where I was; a desert with a 3,000+ year old history. Here is my air conditioned corner of home. It was also the first time I heard gunfire in celebration of New Year’s. The night sky over the Iraqi village a mile away was lit up like a curtain of World War II anti-aircraft fire.
American Soldiers are the greatest tourists.

            Doing the Tourist Thing, 2007 – someone once claimed that American Soldiers were the greatest tourists there are. Based on the number of film and digital cameras, and cell phones in use, I believe it. Long story short, after escorting some asphalt trucks to a small plant in Iraq, we checked on the progress of the “Bitumen Road” under construction, and visited a Persian Gulf War battlefield littered with Iraqi tanks taken out by A-10 ground support aircraft. I am carrying a replica 1863 Cavalry guidon; whenever I went into Iraq I carried guidons, Army bears, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment (ACR) shoulder patches (the parent unit of our Nevada Cavalry squadron), and 11th ACR pins, that I mailed, with letters, to my children and grandchildren. Not long after this photo was taken, Iraqi Police showed up from a nearby post. Talk about the OK Corral! But, after several tense moments of armed Americans and Iraqis facing one another, all ended peacefully—but that is another story.
Camp Virginia

            Camp Virginia, 2007 – the Iraqis and Kuwaitis wanted the border crossing near Navistar for trade/economic reasons, so as soon as the Bitumen Road was completed, we had to move. In May. Two months before we were to leave Kuwait. Air conditioned tents look the same no matter where you go, but Camp Virginia was like a vast desert metropolis compared to the little hamlet of Navistar.
Company Headquarters Building

            The Front Porch, 2007 – the porch of our Company Headquarters building. And another sand/dust storm. Once, after a long storm, I entered the large mess hall (dining facility), and I could barely see the opposite end of the huge interior. The dust hanging in the air was that thick. Breakfast still tasted good, though a little crunchy!
the Great Ziggurat of Ur (Talil Air Base)

            The Birthplace of Writing, June 2007 – my original enlistment was up in October, and I wanted more time to think about staying in the Guard. So what better place for a writer to do a one-year extension, than the Great Ziggurat of Ur (Talil Air Base) in ancient Sumeria, where writing was invented? This was after the ceremony. Italian food followed shortly afterwards.
Going home

            Going Home, July 2007 – there are no words to describe “The Day” of loading duffel bags, and waiting for buses to take us to Ali Al Salem Air Base. That night, with gun truck escort, we were driven to Kuwait City to catch a midnight flight home.
Ft. Lewis, Washington

            Fort Lewis, Washington, July 2007 – and there are no words to describe the smell of rain in the air, the smell of trees and green grass, and hearing real trees rustling in the wind. Or the caress of the cool night air. Or the feeling of being at the end of the deployment.
Back home

            Home, July 2007 – after demobilization processing we flew back to Las Vegas. A pair of old buses, escorted by siren-blaring police cars, carried us from McCarran Airport all the way down the Strip to the Armory on the north side of Las Vegas, where families and friends waited.
            By necessity, I have omitted a lot of details, including feelings of loneliness, looking forward to mail, holidays with an extended Soldier family and friends, dinner at an Italian place surrounded by tall blast walls (in case of mortar or rocket attack) at Talil, and the emotional shock and grief about fellow Soldiers Killed In Action and Wounded In Action.

            So, this is my travelogue from 2006-2007.
# # # #
Mainstream Military Fiction
Better Than a Rabbit's Foot by S.S. Hampton
Back Cover:
Sergeant Jerry Stanton is a young soldier serving in the War in Iraq. He is a gunner on a gun truck nicknamed “Lucky Bear,” one of those tireless workhorses that escort supply convoys from camps in Kuwait to destinations scattered throughout the war-torn country. In the early morning hours before a scheduled mission, a dust storm howls across his camp and threatens to bring convoy operations to a halt. Worse, the camp receives word that a gunner from his company was killed by an IED while on a convoy mission in Iraq. Unlike most soldiers, Jerry doesn’t carry a lucky charm, but upon receiving news of the death of the gunner, he begins to mull over the merit of a good luck charm—only, what would work for him? Perhaps mail call will provide the answer.
Read an excerpt from Better Than a Rabbit's Foot at MuseItUp Publishing
# # # #
Author Stan Hampton
Stan Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to 13 wonderful grandchildren, and a published photographer and photojournalist. He retired on 1 July 2013 from the Army National Guard with the rank of Sergeant First Class;he previously served in the active duty Army (1974-1985), the Army Individual Ready Reserve (1985-1995) (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), and enlisted in the Nevada Army National Guard in October 2004, after which he was mobilized for Federal active duty for almost three years. Hampton is a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle (2004-2006) and Iraqi Freedom (2006-2007) with deployment to northern Kuwait and several convoy security missions into Iraq.

            He has had two solo photographic exhibitions and curated a third. His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories and in anthologies from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange Books, Musa Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, The Harrow, and River Walk Journal, among others.
            As of April 2014, after being in a 2-year Veterans Administration program for Homeless Veterans, Hampton is officially no longer a homeless Iraq War veteran.
            In May 2014 he graduated from the College of Southern Nevada with an Associate of Applied Science Degree in Photography – Commercial Photography Emphasis. A future goal is to study for a degree in archaeology—hopefully to someday work in and photograph underwater archaeology (and also learning to paint). He is currently studying in a double major in Art and Creative Writing at University of Nevada-Las Vegas.
            After over 14 years of brown desert in the Southwest and overseas, he misses the Rocky Mountains, yellow aspens in the fall, running rivers, and a warm fireplace during snowy winters.
# # # #
Hampton can be found online at:

# # # #

Thank you for your service, Stan. I was certainly enlightened by your account of your experiences in Kuwait and Iraq. 

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Insecure Writers Support Group: Stretching My Creative Muscles, Dr. Bob Rich's Free Book Edit Contest

IWSG Badge
IWSG Blog Hop---the first Wednesday of every Month.

Hello and welcome to the Insecure Writer's Support Group Blog Hop! It's my pleasure to share co-hosting duties this month with these awesome bloggers. 

Click on the co-host's name to take you to her site. Please like, comment and/or share.

What is the Insecure Writer's Support Group?

Founded by author Alex J. Cavanaugh, the Insecure Writer’s Support Group offers support for writers and authors alike. It provides an online database, articles and tips, a monthly blog posting, a Facebook and Instagram group, Twitter, and a monthly newsletter. To find out more, click this link: 
 Insecure Writer’s Support Group

The purpose of the group is 
* to share and encourage. 
* Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. 
* Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. 
*It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds! 

You're invited to become a member of this supportive group. Click here to sign-up to join.

November 7 question (optional)
How has your creativity in life evolved since you began writing?

I was in a pretty creative job before I started my writing career--floral designer. My husband and I owned and operated our full-service flower shop, greenhouse, and garden center business for almost 20 years. When I got home after work, I had not one ounce of creativity left in me. 

I didn't start writing seriously until we sold the shop. Seriously--meaning writing for money. I wrote freelance articles using mycreativity to develop a story from the facts. But after several years of "just the facts, ma'am" I yearned to stretch my non-fiction muscles into writing fun, made-up stories with quirky characters and situations.

Luckily, I have enjoyed publishing fiction for readers through a traditional publisher as well as continuing to write non-fiction eBooks as an indie author. The self-publishing side has led me to formatting eBooks and creating book covers. (You know, the best advice is to have a professional design the book cover and I agree. But I do have fun playing around with making them too.) 

I enjoy using canva to use my photos and royalty free photos and videos from Pixabay and Pexels to design graphics for my blog and social media. I can spend hours fussing over the right color, the right font, the right mood. I re-discovered the fun of Photofunia just recently. Not too much creativity needed for that, just silly fooling around. Loved the Halloween selections. Here are a couple of "fun photos" they offer.
Autumn bookmark

Happy Halloween greeting--used for my author FB photo
Do you enjoy taking photos? Please leave a comment below. Thank you.

Now I look forward to visiting other participating bloggers. I'm sure there are a lot of creative blog posts in this group. 

Use the list below to meet new bloggers and re-connect with old friends

GOOD NEWS: Dr. Bob Rich is offering a FREE BOOK EDIT for the winner in his current contest. I'm thrilled to discover my entry, Looking Through Rose-colored Glasses, made the short list! You can read the 1000 word submission along with the other entries at his blog, Bobbing Around. Click here to see the 10 entries. Vote for 3 of your favorites. Deadline for voting is December 23.

COMING UP on the Focused on Story Blog

The Five W's Guest Author Event
You're invited to share the who, what, where, when and why of your story on this blog.
Contact me for more information.

November 14--Guest author Sandy Carlson shares the Five W's in her MG tale, The Tales of the Lost Schooner.

Tales of the Lost Schooner by Sandy Carlson

Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Storytime Blog Hop: Poe's Heart, Celebrate World Audio Drama Day #WorldAudioDramaDay, A Ghost Story: Tales of the Lost Schooner

Storytime Blog Hop
BOO! and welcome to the Storytime Blog Hop! This quarterly edition theme is, what else but Halloween? Talented authors share short fiction stories from 500-1000 words for your entertainment. You're invited to hop around the especially, creepy, scary cyberspace today to read fascinating stories based on the optional theme of Halloween.
Have a safe and happy Halloween!
Warning: My story is based on one of my favorite stories, Edgar Allan Poe's Tell-tale Heart. So it is a bit intense and violent. So if you are very brave, please read on.

Poe’s Heart by J.Q. Rose
Cassandra bent over the kitchen sink and scrubbed the blood spatters from her face with her grandmother’s dish towel. Her favorite jean jacket floated in the red cold water in the sink to remove the blood that had soaked her right sleeve and sprayed the rest of the garment. Sobs assaulted her body after she pulled the jacket from the sink with the blue denim now colored crimson. She had ruined the jacket her grandmother had given her before she moved to the nursing home.

Wiping her eyes and her nose with the back of her hand, Cassandra reached down and scrubbed her cowboy boots. They were ruined too by the blood stains and black coal dust. She stomped her feet and threw the wet dish towel on the counter.

Whirling toward the basement door on the other side of the room, she screamed, “Stop it!” She pressed her hands against her ears to block the sound coming from the basement through the closed door.

Her head ached from the constant lub-dub of his heart still beating. Everybody knows Poe’s story, The Telltale Heart, is not true. She remembered her English teacher telling the class it was fiction. It was impossible for a dead heart to beat. Then, why could she still hear her boyfriend Jeremy’s heart beating? She’d buried him in the coal bin in the basement under all that dirty black coal.

Cassandra paced around her Grandma’s enormous kitchen table waiting for the drumming of his heart to stop. Her brown eyes darkened in terror.  What if he IS alive? She stopped in mid-stride and marched to the basement door, placing her hand on the doorknob, ready to open the wooden door and check to see if Jeremy was still buried down there. Jerking her hand back, she laughed. If the hammer in his brain hadn’t killed him, breathing all that coal dust would suffocate him. Wouldn’t it?

Cassandra pulled the heavy wooden chair away from the table and sat down facing the basement door. Sipping her root beer through the plastic straw in the paper cup helped to calm her nerves. Taking a deep breath and relaxing for the first time in two hours, she smiled at her clever plan to extract revenge from the lying fool. Satisfaction crossed her face when she remembered how easily he fell for the concocted story.  Jeremy, so willingly, tromped down to the basement when she called him down to check out her false report of a snake in the coal bin. Cassandra knew he would because he loved snakes. Even when he knew grandma’s house was so tight, she never had rats, snakes, bats, mice or any other creatures invade the place. He was such an idiot, as well as a cheater! He deserved to die.

Energy sizzled through her body when she remembered the thrill of the kill. Since Jeremy was four inches shorter than her, it was simple to whack him in the back of his head with the hammer when he turned away to search for the snakes. How fortunate for her he fell into the bin making it easy for her to cover him up with scoops of coal. But the job took all the muscle strength she’d developed during volleyball season. She stretched her arms over her head and rolled her shoulders, then sucked the rest of the root beer down until it made that shhhhh sound seemingly louder in the quiet kitchen. 

Cassandra cocked her head to listen. No muffled heart sound. Her whole body relaxed with relief, but then another sound invaded her senses. Her heart rocketed into her throat.

Muffled footsteps clumped up the stairs. Jeremy’s motorcycle boots were heavy enough to make that sound. She jumped up from her chair and lifted it up ready to use the antique chair as a weapon if Jeremy burst through the door to attack her.  Her mouth went dry and the hair on her neck stood up as straight as the bristles on the brush she used to groom her horse.

She rocked from side-to-side waiting for him to open the door. Her arms ached gripping the chair over her head. Why didn’t I lock the damn door?

She shook the chair at the door. “Come on out, you cheatin’ S.O.B. Come on. I ain’t scared of ya’. If you ain’t dead now, you soon will be if you open that door!” Her voice ratcheted up higher and louder with every word.

“Jeremy? Jeremy? Come out here, you lily-livered chicken sh-t.”  She inched to the door and pressed her ear against it. Hands shaking, heart pounding, she set the chair on the floor, but close enough for her to grab it for protection if he was standing on the steps. She twisted the doorknob thankful it made no noise. Easing the old wooden door open just a crack, she sighed with relief when she saw only the long flight of steep stairs. Her mind was playing tricks on her.

Her gut told her Jeremy had to be dead. He just had to be. Poe’s story wasn’t true.  Her ears ached trying to catch any noises. No heartbeat, no breathing, no footsteps came from the dark basement. She pulled the door open wide and joyously clunked down the steps in her heavy cowboy boots. Catching her heel on the step, she cartwheeled down the stairs, smashing her head on the cement floor. Her eyes filled with terror as she lay at the bottom of the steps unable to move. The only sound in the still room was the clacking of the timber rattlers slithering out from under the stairs toward her.

For more short stories, please visit the websites listed below. Who knows? They may be serving treats! Have fun!

Snow White Tabloid Style, by Fannie Suto
Starving Artist, by Samantha Bryant
The Halloween Dance, by Barbara Lund
The Ghost In My Yard, by Elizabeth McCleary
Her Majesty, by Katharina Gerlach
Chris Bridges Posting Storytime Blog Hop. Give her shout out and say Hello!
Black Moon, by Lauren M. Catherine
Poe's Heart, by J. Q. Rose--You are Here
Hanks A Lot, by Joe Bouchard
In The Gray Lake, by Karen Lynn
The Right Honorable Brotherhood of Spirits, Poltergeists and Ghosts, by Vanessa Wells
Life of a Pumpkin, by Bill Bush
Why Should I?, by Gina Fabio
Reaper, by Juneta Key

Want to listen to scary stories? And celebrate World Audio Drama Day #WorldAudioDramaDay?
All for FREE? Now's your chance.
The Timekeeper, written by my talented author friend, Miss Mae, will be performed at the 11th Hour Audio Production site today. Replays will be available after that.
Get in the Halloween spirit and discover "original horror to mark Audio Drama Day."
Click this link to take you to the site filled with scary stories.
Hats off to Owen McCuen and his production company for bringing us this audio treat!
The Timekeeper
The Timekeeper by Miss Mae

An indescript antique shop.
Set along an indescript street.

Filled with things not borrowed.
Filled with things not blue.

But filled with shadows and secrets
And one man who keeps the difference.

Step inside Mr. Mortimer’s Antique Store.
He has the one item you always dreamt of.

If you'd like to download the short story ($1.49), click on the links below

 If you liked the audio performance of the Timekeeper listen to the audiobook,
 Catch Me if You can, another story by Miss Mae.

Catch Me CD set
Catch Me If You Can
The exciting new romantic mystery, penned by popular author Miss Mae.
Washed ashore during a raging hurricane,
Lois Steinberg's shelter, an old plantation house, becomes a terrifying maze
as murders begin to pile up and
Lois races to save her life ...
and keep hidden her mysterious secret.

Click here to listen to a sample from the audiobook.
To download the audiobook, Catch Me If You Can, Performed by Five of Hollywood's Best Voice Artists: PulpRadio

And, as if that's not enough to scare you to death on Halloween, here's another Ghost Story from my friend, Sandy Carlson.
Tales of the Lost Schooner by Sandy Carlson
She'll be my guest at the Five Ws of Storytelling right here on November 14. Come back then to discover who, what, where, and when in her MG story, The Lost Schooner.
Back of the Book: 
Historical fiction ghost stories set in the mid-1800’s
The schooner’s captain pulled 12-year-old Honor Sullivan apart from the other orphans. Captain Klaus claimed he needed a strong lad like Honor for a sister he didn’t even have. But Honor has a sister – two of them. The last he’d seen of their fuzzy red heads was the end of September, 1854, as they headed down the ship’s plank for the Orphan Train, going off to be placed out with a new family.
Tricked by the captain, and sailing around Michigan’s Mitten, Honor learns the ropes and duties of a sailor. He passes the time aboard down in the dark hold, listening to Old Salty’s tales of shipwrecks and ghosts. The stories won’t distract him for long, though. As soon as he can, Honor plans to abandon ship and go in search of his sisters.