Welcome to my page!
Here you will find all my latest updates. 
Also, Explore the tabs above to learn more about my books--
Love and Light!
--April Aasheim--

--SIGN UP FOR MY NEWSLETTER--

GET LINKS FOR FREE SHORT STORIES
AND BE NOTIFIED:

  • WHEN MY BOOKS ARE FREE

  • OF GAMES AND CONTESTS

  • OF NEW RELEASES

  • OF FREE BOOKS FROM OTHER FANTASY AUTHORS

    STARTING NOVEMBER 2021, ONE RANDOM SUBSCRIBER WILL RECEIVE A $5 AMAZON GIFT CARD EVERY EMAIL

Subscribe to My Newsletter

Thanks for Subscribing!

14_forest_bg_003_edited_edited.jpg

BLOG, NEWS AND UPCOMING EVENTS


Alchemy 4:


Along the way, she came to a hedge of bluebells, and stopped to fill her basket.


Morgan had been reading about the magickal properties of flowers in Berta’s Book of Shadows. It was written that if you wore a wreath of bluebells that you could speak only the truth—and that sleeping with the flower beneath your pillow would stave off nightmares.

It was also said that bluebells attract elementals. Morgan wasn’t sure she believed in elementals—but with all she’d seen and done now—she didn’t disbelieve in them, either. She left several shiny stones in place of the bluebells, an offering of gratitude to the elementals, should they actually exist.



11 views0 comments

Updated: Jun 23, 2021

Book Four comes out in August! Berta reached into her satchel, handing Morgan a shiny black stone on a short chain. A pendulum. “Take Oliver,” Berta said, dropping the stone into Morgan’s palm. “Keep him safe. He’s been in my family for generations.”


Morgan inspected the onyx pendulum. She’d seen Berta carry it about, whispering to it like it were one of her cats. “How does it work?” Morgan asked, swinging the stone like she were stirring a pot.


“He responds to your voice. Just say: Oliver, go find the Fraud’s missing cows. Picture what you want to find, swirl it gently three times, then follow where it leads. It can be a bit stubborn, so be patient.”


Morgan concentrated on the chain, feeling currents of energy run through it. Could this truly find lost things?


Berta seemed to read her thoughts. “Oliver can find anything, but it doesn’t mean he will. If he doesn’t like you he won’t budge—or he’ll take you completely off-path. This one has a sense of humor.”


Morgan gazed at the pendulum. “I’ve never seen a stone quite like you,” she cooed.

“Easy now. Even a rock knows when you’re lyin’. Now tell him what you want to find. Go on…”


“Hello, Oliver… can you please take me to the Fraud’s missing cows?” She twirled the chain three times as Berta had, but Oliver never settled on any one direction, swinging right then left, then reversing course.


“Say it with authority,” Berta urged, puffing out her chest and rolling her hands. “Oliver’s lazy. He’s not gonna do any work unless he has to.”


Berta believed everything had a personality: stones, books, tools, even houses, and each object had to be approached uniquely. Morgan gritted her teeth, but tried again. “Oliver, take me to the Fraud’s missing cows!” she demanded, feeling both silly at ordering a rock and guilty for using such a harsh tone. But, this time, Oliver woke up, like a sleeping horse, tugging on his strap.

“Hurry now—Oliver’s just like any other man. Gotta catch him when he’s in the right mood,” Berta handed Morgan her turnip-collecting basket.


“Don’t let anyone see you or our client. We keep our secrets,” she reminded, giving Morgan a hard wink.


“We keep our secrets,” Morgan agreed.



8 views0 comments





I am posting this a day later than I wanted, but check out what I'm up to!


Jaffrey shivered, feeling a surge of cold air whip through.


“It’s drafty in here, Sir,” Kirl said, looking at the open windows and dying torches. Fall had arrived, and the days grew colder, even if it hadn’t rained in weeks. “Maybe we should…”

“I like the cold! It keeps me sharp.”


“Yes, sir.” Kirl lowered his head, stepping back into the line of servants, all silently waiting for Jaffrey to call upon them. But Jaffrey found that most were clumsy oafs in the afterlife, except for Kirl, who was well-suited for death.


Jaffrey allowed one eye to drift towards the slack-jawed servants. They were a glossy, doughy, unnatural color, their shapes reminiscent of half-melted candles. Hollow-eyed blobs ready to serve, but unable to work the mental and physical gears needed to achieve their tasks.


The alchemists were the worst, their muscles turning to mush within days; but some of the soldiers retained a bit of their strength for a week or more, and that proved useful in stockpiling wood and securing the fortress. But the supplies were growing thin.

6 views0 comments