The Avid Reader would like to welcome you to the Dark Light Edited by Carl Hose Blog Tour. A Fund Raiser For The Ronald McDonald House. I am very proud to be a host for this blog tour. And would like to thank Innovative Online Book Tours for letting me host this wonderful tour.
Please join me in welcoming Carl Hose as Guest Host on The Avid Reader today. Carl Hose will be telling us about his novel Dark Light edited by him and authored by many. He will also tell us about his, and his wife, Marcee's stay at the Ronald McDonald House when their daughter Ireland was born.
After Carl Hose tells us about his novel and their stay at the Ronald McDonald House there will be a giveaway for a Kindle Wi-Fi, 6" E Ink Display. So don't forget to enter. Maybe you will be the lucky winner.
Book Title: Dark Light
Author: Carl Hose (Editor)
Published: June 15th 2012
Publisher: MARLvision Publishing
Ebook:
Pages: 508
Description from Back Cover of Book:
Dark Light is the light that shines through when some of the finest writers in horror use the power of their words for something good. That’s the case with this anthology—42 writers coming together to help support the Ronald McDonald House Charities and all the good the organization does for families every day of the year.
Make no mistake, though. These are horror writers and the stories they’ve written are not pretty. Traditional and non-traditional horror, dark humor, ghosts, serial killers, alternate universes, magic, zombies, and other creatures of the night hide between these pages. Shadows move and dead fingers stroke unsuspecting flesh, razor sharp knives shimmer in the moonlight, and unknown things hide in closets and under the bed. The stories here are as varied as the writers themselves. If you’re a fan of horror, you will not be let down.
Despite the horrific nature of these tales, however, their very existence in Dark Light stands as proof there will always be a light at the end of every tunnel.
Turn the lights down low and enjoy the show.
Purchase Dark Light
One of the questions I’ve been asked most often since announcing the “Dark Light” anthology is whether or not a horror anthology is appropriate for a charity such as the Ronald McDonald House Charities, which helps so many families stay together during times of illness. I don’t really get that question. I mean, sure, on an intellectual level, yeah, maybe I get it. On a more emotional level, nope.
Why wouldn’t an anthology of horror stories be fitting for any charity? Horror writers have families, horror writers love their kids, and horror writers have as much capacity to care as anyone else. We don’t sit in a dark dungeon somewhere dismantling people; we aren’t serial killers; we don’t do bad things.
We write scary stories, and quite frankly, people like to be scared.
I’ve always said that the very existence of an anthology like “Dark Light” is proof positive that horror writers can use the power of their dark words to bring light into the world. That’s where the title came from. It seemed a perfect fit.
“Dark Light” is as appropriate as any other means of raising money for a deserving cause. Horror writers are as free as anyone to open their hearts to those in need.
And we have. Forty-two writers delivered forty-four stories ranging from black humor and ghost stories to tales of serial killers and monsters. The stories in “Dark Light” span the spectrum of intensity, ranging from mild to outright brutal. Each of these stories, regardless of content, is appropriate.
When a rock musicians play for charity, they don’t play classical music because it’s appropriate. No, not even close. They turn up the amps and they do what they do best—shake the house down.
The writers in “Dark Light” write horror. If you want fairy tales, you might go somewhere else. That doesn’t mean the cause isn’t the same and the heart behind the writers isn’t valid. These writers have shared their words to give something to a charity that has given to so many.
Horror or not, there is hope between these pages.
So is it appropriate for horror writers who spend their lives, who make their very livings trying to scare the hell out of people, to write for something that is good and pure?
The answer is a resounding yes.
And I am proud to be in such fine company.
Introduction:
My daughter Ireland Joy Hose was due to come into the world on March 3rd,, 2012. Since my wife Marcee was going to have a C-section, her doctor scheduled her to deliver Ireland February 13th. It’s typical to schedule C-sections about two weeks before the actual due date, but in my wife’s case, the C-section was scheduled a little earlier because she had complete placenta previa, meaning her placenta was blocking the birth canal. This is normally not a problem unless the previa turns into accreta, which means the placenta attaches to body organs and actually begins to grow into them (pretty alien-like). This can result in severe hemorrhaging and may require a partial or even a complete hysterectomy.
All of this is beside the point. Ireland decided she wanted to show up on January 27th at 10:35 P.M. She was six weeks premature, 18 inches long, and weighed just 4 lbs. 13 oz. Marcee had gone to the gynecologist that day. He told her she was having contractions. We went to the hospital, where they tried to stop her contractions. It didn’t happen. Marcee started bleeding, and while I write about blood all the time, seeing it pour from my wife’s body was pretty damn scary.
I was in the operating room when Ireland was delivered. She came out fine, although she would have her own struggles ahead of her in the coming weeks. Shortly after the nurses began cleaning Ireland up, one of the doctors said to another doctor that Marcee had accreta and would need a hysterectomy. I was caught between the joy of my daughter’s birth and my wife’s fragile situation. The doctors began pumping my wife full of anesthesia and she was fading fast. All she wanted was to hear our baby girl cry, to know Ireland was all right. “Cry, baby girl,” she said, and when Ireland began to wail, Marcee drifted off.
I was ushered from the OR with Ireland in my arms. What followed was a two-and-a-half-hour wait while the doctors performed surgery on Marcee. There was a lot of blood loss, but in the end she came through the surgery alive and eager to see Ireland. Barely able to sit up, she insisted I wheel her to the nursery, where she held Ireland for the first time, a full four hours after Ireland was born.
Because Ireland was premature, she was going to be spending time in the NICU. She was moved to a different hospital—one that was further away from where we lived—the next night. Marcee and I agreed I should go with Ireland. There was really no discussion necessary. This, however, left Marcee alone to deal with the trauma of her experience without me or her newborn daughter to comfort her.
One of the memories that haunts me still is seeing an ambulance with the words Neonatal Transport Unit on the side and thinking, that’s a baby ambulance and it’s here for my baby.
I arrived at the hospital where my daughter was taken late that night. The blur begins here, so I don’t have the exact time. The NICU staff suggested I get a room at the Ronald McDonald House. I insisted I didn’t need one, that I would be staying at my daughter’s side day and night. They worked hard to convince me a room at the Ronald McDonald House made more sense—that it would be more comfortable than a chair in the NICU. If it had just been me, they probably wouldn’t have changed my mind, but since I knew Marcee was planning to join me as soon as she could strong arm the doctor’s into discharging her (which she did in record time), I relented and allowed one of the nurses to contact the Ronald McDonald House nearby to reserve us a spot.
It turns out no reservation was needed that night. Hospital security drove me to the Ronald McDonald House where we would be staying. It so happened I was the only guest at the time. The house was a quaint looking affair that reminded me of a bed and breakfast in the country—from the outside. Inside was a maze of stairways and narrow hallways that housed about thirty rooms.
Looking Back
I woke up this morning and fed my baby girl Ireland. She woke me up is what I should say. We sat on the couch together, but she really wasn’t in the mood to eat. She wanted to laugh and play and talk to me. She kept looking up at me, smiling, milk dribbling from the corners of her mouth as I tried to feed her.
She’s come a long way since January 27th, the day she was born. A hell of a long way. Born weighing under five pounds, she now weighs almost fourteen. She still has some reflux, but it no longer causes her to stop breathing. She is grabbing things, laughing, making a new array of noises every day.
She is healthy. She did recently (on May 21st) have surgery to correct a small issue she had with her anal opening being a bit misplaced. She came through the surgery well, though, and is recovering.
When I look back at her time in the NICU and all the hours Marcee and I spent walking from the Ronald McDonald House to the hospital to feed and hold and change Ireland, the memories are bittersweet. We were away from our boys and our baby girl was fighting to adjust to the harsh reality of being born premature, but we were with her. We were able to nurture her and help her adjust a little bit faster.
We have the Ronald McDonald House to thank for keeping us that close, and the hospital, of course, for their hard work. We thank God too.
Those were trying times, more for Ireland and Marcee (who was recovering from a C-section and hysterectomy while tending to our baby girl), but we were blessed then as we are blessed now, with family and friends (and even strangers) who are willing to step forward and help us give something back to the Ronald McDonald House Charities for their generosity to not only our family but countless others as well.
For that, Marcee, our sons (Seth, Ethan, and Caleb), and me will always be grateful.
Carl Hose online:
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