Bonus Excerpt – Paulonious Punk

To celebrate the fact that I am FINALLY getting something of a schedule going again and, more importantly, typing up the dozens of pages that have been waiting for my attention, I thought I would sneak you guys a little excerpt from the children’s adventure chapter book I’ve been working on.

Please feel free to give leave a comment letting us know what you think!

Paulonious Punk

By Elizabeth S. Tyree

Chapter 17: excerpt

The next level of caves was shallower, harder to get to, and obviously not the gathering place the other rock rooms had been. Still, there were no signs of ancient pirate hidey-holes no matter how many times they circled each one with bright flashlights and keen eyes.

Down to only two shallow caves left, Grandpa was starting to worry that his pep talk was going to be for nothing. The boys were dragging again and he was about to suggest that they see if there might be another likely spot to search when Pauly let out a wild and triumphant cry, scaring the seagulls perched around the rock cliff.

“Look,” He crowed triumphantly, pointing his high beam LED flashlight at the back wall of the second to last shallow cave, where something glittered dully against the gray dirt. “Pirate Treasure!!”

The boys surged forward, clambering over crumbled stones with Grandpa hot on their heels. The closer they got, the more they saw glittering remnants scattering across the curve of the back wall. Plastered into the cavern itself. Sealed into the stones for safe keeping. Here, then, was the treasure they had been seeking.

“In room of stone and vision free,” Pauly whispered in awe, looking back out of the cave’s mouth to the frothing blue waters below. “They didn’t bring the treasure here to hide it…”

“They put it in the walls so that it could watch the sea!” John finished excitedly for his best friend.

“It’s almost like the treasure is still waiting, watching for its long lost pirate band,” Grandpa whispered. Then, more loudly, he said, ‘Well done my boys! You’ve found it!”

“You know who would love this?” Pauly asked suddenly, pocketing a dirt encrusted coin he’d just pried from the stone and beginning to work on what might be a delicate necklace. “Dr. Ron. Let’s call him and see if he can come out.”

“Are you sure you want to call him?” Grandpa was shocked to hear such things coming from a 9-year-old who had just discovered treasure. “You know what will happen if we do?”

Pauly slowly nodded his head as John and Grandpa stared at him, or rather, stared over his shoulder at the muted sparkle of newly discovered goodies.

“Paulonious,” Grandpa kept his voice calm and steady, “Dr. Ron would love it and the museum certainly would have all of the resources required to unearth everything…”

There was an uncertainty to his voice, and unmasked question that even the two 9-year-olds could hear loud and clear.

“I bet the set up the exhibit next to the Belle,” Pauly decided smugly.

“With a big sign that has our names on it!” John added, his voice alight with sudden excitement at this new idea.

Grandpa P pulled the two boys into a quick, tight hug. “I am so proud of you,” he told them before digging the old flip phone out of his cargo pants and calling his old friend.
Dr. Ron decided to take the rest of the afternoon off to make the trek for treasure. Slowly making their way back down the narrow path and gathering their trash bags along the way, Grandpa P., Pauly P., and John L. headed back to the diner for a little lunch while they waited.


*I hope that you enjoyed this little snippet! Don’t forget to let me know what you think, I love hearing from you!*

Free Form Fun

Dragons and pumpkins make me happy. The woosh clank bang of swift fingers and sticky keys excites me. the freedom of words and the permanence of paper put together in an indelible way, like the unseen fingerprints on my heart suddenly becoming a tattoo. Some days I can’t possibly stand another second of the ripping, searing pain from the tat gun, most days I couldn’t survive without it right there, my personal colorful needle to the skin of my universe.

Words are an addiction, like ink, and like the fresh tattoo the stories I write are never far from my surface. Aliphonsore is always in the back of my mind, reminding me that his story is not finished and, like an addict, I respond by going back. But one more word is the best addiction to have. It costs nothing for me to write this little free prose page…unlike the tat of Al curled up in the trailing vines of a pumpkin that I wanted to get. That beauty would cost me more than I’m worth just now

Mad Monday

Ok, so I’ve been a little behind the past few days. Or a lot behind…either way you look at it though, I missed Short Story Sunday yesterday. Here is what I meant to post before I forgot. I hope you enjoy it!



“Ok students, today will be our very first,” pause for effect, “MAD MONDAY!!”

“ooh, are we like, going like, sale shopping?” the nasal, high pitched teen voice grated on her ears. UGH! How in the world did they talk her in to teaching high school kids?

“No, Maureen, we’re going to talk about words like MAD.” Ms. Travers took a deep breath, “They’re called Multiple Meaning Words also known as homophones or homonyms. Does anyone remember their middle school English lessons about these??” She waits a beat, expecting at least the greasy haired, too-much-Axe-wearing, coke bottle glasses, wolverine t-shirted nerd in the corner to answer appropriately, as he usually did, but even Steven (call me The Ice) was silent. “Come on guys – multiple meaning words have what??”

“Umm…” the twins looked as if they were trying to use their telepathy to collectively read the teacher’s book, which Rebecca Travers had left carelessly flipped open on her desk. She didn’t need it for etymology lessons after all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, M.M.W.s have more than one meaning! Like the word, “MAD” which can mean several different things. Sharlot, would you give me a meaning for the word ‘mad’ please?”

“Umm, like, big sales. You know, like, mad mad mad savings?” Sharlot was more concerned with how the bridge of her nose looked in comparison to her new shirt and lipstick combination than she was with the actual question, but she obviously wouldn’t have known anyway.

“What about mad like angry. Like the Hulk gets mad and then BAM the hot guy turns into a big green unstoppable killing force.” The quiet blond girl in the corner, what was her name??? OH,

“Good job Anial,” where do parents come up with these names? *Face Palm!* hastag – craycray “Mad often means that someone is angry, although I believe Bruce Banner is just always raging inside and doesn’t really have to get mad…and before you start goggling and giggling at my obvious nerdy cool status, Yes I love comics and the Avengers, Loki rocks, and we need to move on through the lesson. And Anial, Bruce Banner is awesome but I’m a little concerned with how excited you were about the unstoppable killing force part…”

“I like to feel safe,” The tiny little sprite smiled innocently.

“Ok, moving on…there’s another possible meaning here. Does anyone know what it is?” Rebecca Travers searched the small classroom, thankfully they had only given her the students in need of a little extra English help for their college admits…although some of them really gave her doubts as to their ability to enter college at all. Didn’t they have some sort of force field to keep the morons out? “Morry?”

“Crazy,” Moriarty, Morry for short, looked up as menacingly as he could from under his bright red mop of frizz and tried to growl the word, ending on a squeak, “Mad means that someone is insane.”

“Very nicely done sir,” Ms. Travers smiled, wondering again why in the world his parents would name him after a famous literary villain. “What other words can you think of that have multiple meanings?”

“Fag,” The lone student on the left side of the room suddenly yelled out his answer, causing titters to erupt among the other six, “My grandpa calls his cigarettes fags, but my Uncle calls our neighbors the same thing. I guess they smoke a lot.” He shrugged with a smirk, “You know.”

“Thank you Franklynn,” Rebecca sighed, here comes another migraine. “Anyone else?? ANYONE?”


“Ate and eight,” Fredrico March saved the day, his white skin and pale features belying the exotic moniker. “Like, I ate a sandwich for breakfast before coming to school at eight.”

“That’s a homophone, girls and boys! Thank you FredricoMarch,” he insisted his name be run together in such a way. “What else??”

“GAS!” Sharlot chirped proudly, obviously not used to having an answer show up that was handed to her on a silver platter. “Gas like you put in the car OR it can be like, you know,” titter titter, giggle, laughter, “YOU KNOW, like, GAS.”

“Thank you for that.” Rebecca Travers calmly surveyed the quickly dissolving classroom structure as each student tried to gas out their fellows. Picking up her purse and grabbing a clothespin from her desk, the teacher pinned her nose, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked out. Closing the locked door behind her, Ms. Travers deliberately walked down to the principal’s office and rapped once, sharply, on the door. “I’m ready to go back now Mr. P.”

“Are you sure Becca?” Mr. Princeton, the principal, looked up with his big sad eyes and slightly pointy ears, looking like a jolly mix of dwarf and elf. “This was your chance to change things for the better.”

“I’ve locked my students in the classroom as they try to stink each other out with farts and belches,” Rebecca laid her school keys down, “Please, let me just go back. Maybe change isn’t always a good thing.”

“If you’re sure that you’re ready then,” Mr. P stood and pulled his lab coat from a hidden cabinet hook. “I’ll take you back to your room.”

“Thank you sir.”

“It’s not a problem. We here at Shady Hill know that sometimes people just need a good rest.”