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Short Story: Silverweed Muffins by Dorlana Vann

Below is the short story, “Silverweed Muffins”, which was inspired by “Little Red Riding Hood”, which in turn inspired my YA novel, Silverweed. I used some of the same background and plotlines for the book that I had used in the short story. In addition, when I drafted the longer version, I added a theme that I’d interpreted from the original Grimm Brother’s version of the fairy tale. And to me, “Little Red Riding Hood” is all about fear, the message being, “Don’t talk to strangers,” and “Don’t stray from the path.” So Silverweed’s theme ended up being: The real monster is fear. Here is the short story, I believe from 2008. Side Note: I don’t remember why I picked Swiss as the character’s name – it didn’t make it to the book though …


Silverweed Muffins by Dorlana Vann

 Swiss drove like mad in his little red car, down into the valley, down the narrow winding roads, and away from the gravesite, but he would never be able to travel fast enough to escape his guilty thoughts. He should have never shooed those birds away. He should have heeded his mothers other countless warnings of bad luck, dark omens, and words of wisdom that he had only seen as silly superstition. But now she was dead, and he was alone in the world, except for his ailing grandmother.

He sped into his driveway and made an abrupt stop, hitting the steering wheel as he finally allowed his required tears to fall. He was eighteen-years-old and thought he was too old to cry, at least in front of people. No one could see him now.

After awhile, he began to think about the last conversation he had with his mother. A conversation he put to the back of his mind because he didn’t want to believe she was going to die. His mother loved her legends and fairy tales, and at the time, Swiss figured she was just getting some of her stories confused with reality. Still, her last words fought to be remembered. “Protect your grandmother. Don’t ever talk to strangers. You must carry on the tradition by making her muffins and taking them to her every day … every day by noon, without fail. They must always be the silverweed muffins.”

His mother had delivered a basket of silverweed muffins to his grandmother every day, for as long as he could remember. When Swiss was ten, he’d asked his mother why she didn’t just make a whole bunch and leave them there. His mother had said, “This reminds me to visit her. If I didn’t go one day, perhaps I would fail to remember the next, and soon I would completely forget. Now we can’t go and forget to take care of grandmother, can we?”

As he opened the front door to his house, he was still thinking about his mothers last dying words, which was her last dying wish, the realization that he had inherited this daunting job depressed him even more. His grandmother had outlasted his mother, and could possibly outlast him, so this task would be his, forever. Make and feed her muffins every day…

He wasn’t as sure about what his mother had meant when she told him to protect his grandmother. She lived far into the remote woods away from civilization. She didn’t even have a telephone. No one was going to call her and scam her out of her money, if she even had any. Perhaps his mother meant, take care of, instead of protect. Just get her the muffins, he thought, that was all he was capable of doing that day anyway. Maybe later he could ask his grandmother about what his mother had intended.

Swiss stood in the kitchen and mixed the ingredients to the recipe he had known by heart since he was six years old:

 2 c flour

1 tbsp baking powder

3 tbsp sugar

1 egg

1 c milk

¼ c silverweed leaves

After he had baked the muffins, he put them in the lined red basket and covered them with a white linen napkin. This first muffin delivery venture wasn’t going to come close to the noon deadline his mother had requested. Oh well, he thought, as long as she receives her muffins today, all will be well.

He didn’t drive to his grandmother’s house as fast as he had driven away from his mother’s funeral. He actually turned on the music, hummed along, and had lovelier thoughts of happier times. He began to remember the trips he and his mother used to make to his grandmother’s when he was a child. It wasn’t just the visit that had been pleasant, but also the car ride. They would play games, their favorite being, I Spy.

Swiss’s thoughts turned gloomy when he remembered the last time they had played. He spied something red and his mother guessed, a car, a leaf on a tree, a bird, and so on, until finally she gave up. And then he told her, “I saw a little red man, right there beside the road. Didn’t you see him? He had horns like a goat and a long tail.” Curiously he didn’t remember her saying anything to the contrary like, “You saw no such thing,” or “You must have been mistaken.” No, she had said, “I didn’t see him.” And that was the last time they ever played the game, because neither one of them ever suggested it again. He had forgotten all about it, until that very moment. He shrugged off the strange mood it gave him; silly little boy’s imagination, that was all. His mother had filled his head with her foolishness.

There had been a furious thunderstorm the night before that left water standing in the ditches beside the road. Swiss’s grandmother lived in the dense woods. The road was barely a road much less paved, and he knew it would be a long drive of large puddles and fallen limbs. He didn’t want to tear up his little red car. So he parked it, put on his jacket and grabbed the basket of muffins. Dusk had already arrived and he did think twice about leaving the shelter of his car behind; the walk back would be a dark one.

Once he left the initial clearing in the woods, the night seemed to grow by a couple of hours. The chilled wind blew its breath on the back of Swiss’s neck, making him wish he had worn his jacket with the hood. When he began to wonder if he had become lost on the straight stretch of road, he stopped and turned several times. That’s when he thought he saw someone in the woods, right off the road. He figured it was merely shadows and the suggestive surroundings but decided he would walk faster at any rate. When he dared to investigate again, he was positive he saw someone, this time behind a slender tree. Glancing behind every couple of feet, Swiss walked as fast as he could trying not to let on that he knew he had a tail. But when it seemed this person wasn’t going to give up, he stopped and waited until he heard a rustling that was most likely his follower. He didn’t enjoy being scared, so if this person was going to attack him anyway, he would rather it was not an ambush.

“Hello?” Swiss turned around after a few seconds. “Excuse me, why are you following me?”

At this, a man stepped out of the bush, and Swiss wished he would had run to his grandmother’s instead of challenging a stranger. The man wore a cowboy hat and dirty boots. He looked big, rough, and hairy. In his left hand he carried a massive rusty ax.

Swiss took a giant step back and cleared his throat as he looked around for a weapon. He knew his basket of muffins wouldn’t do him much good, even if he had cooked them a bit longer than usual. Swiss stood as tall as possible. His voice didn’t hold much authority on its own, so he gave it a beat of deepness when he said, “You’re trespassing. Please leave this land immediately.”

“Trespassing?” the man said with the volume of a jackhammer. “I’m just doing my job, son.”

“And what job would that be?” Swiss was thinking, murderer, assassin, bear hunter…

 “I’m a woodsman.” He squinted his already hard to see eyes under the massive entanglement of hair on his face. “I cut down trees.”

“Why would a woodsman be following me?”

The man laughed a vigorous belly laugh. “Following you? I am not interested in your whereabouts.”

Immediately, Swiss felt a bit foolish. His total day had been eerie, which must have left him jumpy and paranoid. Swiss thought that perhaps there were more of these woodsmen about.

“Right,” Swiss said. “I’ll be on my way.”

“Need some help? You lost?”

“No, this is my grandmother’s property. She lives just down the way.”

“I see. What’s there in that basket?” the man asked and took a step toward Swiss.

“Just some muffins for my grandmother.”

 “Wouldn’t happen to be able to spare one, would you?”

Swiss didn’t doubt that the grubby man actually lived in the woods, as well as worked, and most likely starving. Besides, he had accused him of being a stalker. “I’m sure my grandmother can spare one.”

After the man was handed the muffin, he took an enormous bite and then picked it up to examine it. “Kind of odd tasting. What’s in here?”

“Family secret,” Swiss said and smiled. “Well, I must be getting on my way. My grandmother is waiting.”

Swiss walked on, checking behind him periodically to make sure the man wasn’t following him. He saw no sign and was satisfied after awhile that the man was who he’d said he was.

Finally, he made it to the clearing that started the yard. It was much brighter there, the full moon blared like a spotlight on his grandmother’s house. Trimmed hedges and flower gardens decorated the skillfully manicured grounds. Swiss thought about how his grandmother, being practically bed ridden, employed people to work in her yard. She also owned most of the woods for many miles and therefore must have hired the woodsman to cut down some trees on the path to her house.

He dreaded walking into the house that he once looked forward to visiting. It felt different now. Today it would be especially painful. She would ask about the funeral, be sorry she wasn’t able to make it, and make him relive the entire event. Not only that, he knew that this was only the beginning of many countless trips he would be taking to see her. Every day he would have to bring her the muffins.

He opened the door. “Grandmother,” he called, “it’s me, Swiss.” He snapped on the lamp in the living room and saw the familiar cozy furnishings draped with homemade quilts and afghans. The smell of cinnamon tea filled his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen and set the muffins down on the counter. He took a muffin out of the basket and set it on a small saucer.

“Grandmother,” he said again, wondering now if he had come too late, and she had gone to bed.

He hesitated at her bedroom door, not wanting to disturb an old lady and her sleep. Except his mother’s words came to mind: every day… every day. He tapped lightly on the door and then opened it.

The room was dark, but he could hear his grandmother’s grunts and snores from the back of the room. Aware of the light next to her bed, he made his way, muffin in hand, toward the lamp. He snapped it on.

At first the brightness blinded him. “I’m sorry I’m so late. It’s just that it’s been an aw—” He stopped with his mouth open, stared, and then heard the crash of the plate as it hit the floor. For there in his grandmother’s bed was a huge, hairy wolf. And the wolf was awake now, looking at him.

The wolf had big eyes, a big nose, and what big teeth it had. It growled, saliva gathering at the corners of its mouth like a mad dog. Swiss stood petrified, but only for a second, because the wolf then leaped out from underneath the cozy blankets. Swiss found his feet and scrambled backwards, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the wolf because it actually wore one of his grandmothers long pink nightgowns.

“Grandmother,” Swiss yelled, and then quickly scanned the room for any sign of her. Perhaps she hid under the bed or maybe in the closet. He didn’t want to even think of the obvious, but he didn’t have time to have a good look, because in the next instant, the wolf had lunged and pinned him to the hardwood floor.

Swiss shielded his face with his arms as the wolf tore at him with its claws, ripping Swiss’s clothing open like a candy wrapper. The sharp nails dug deep into his flesh causing Swiss to cry out in pain. His mind desperately analyzed the situation. He had two choices: keep fighting and prolong the agony or die a just as painful but perhaps quicker death. At the very moment Swiss had decided to move his arms and let the wolf finish him off, the heaviness of the animal lifted, and he heard it howl out in pain. He didn’t dare move. His entire body felt like it was on the spin cycle as hard adrenaline pumped through his heart. Finally, with large breaths, he sat up.

The wolf lay on the floor with an ax in its side. Swiss stood up, but not wanting to take any chances that the wolf would attack him again, he kept his distance.

Swiss flinched, ready to run, when the woodsman he had talked to earlier stepped out of the shadows and retrieved his ax. The red blood of the wolf poured out onto the floorboards.

“My grandmother,” Swiss managed to get out of his dry mouth. “Have you seen my grandmother?”

The woodsman frowned at him and then subtly motioned with his eyes for Swiss to look at the wolf.

When Swiss looked, his head did a spin and a swoon. There on the floor in the place of the wolf lay his grandmother.

 “I’ve been tracking her for years,” the woodsman said.

 Panic wrapped itself around Swiss’s reason. His whole world swirled around in his head. “I thought I saw… There was a wolf. My mind, in the darkness, my eyes… I’ve been so upset today.” He looked up at the woodsman who still held the bloody ax. “Why would you kill my grandmother?” He could feel anger and guilt rising to his face. Protect your grandmother. He had not been able to protect her for a single day. Don’t ever talk to strangers. What had he done?

“That was not your grandmother, son,” the woodsman said. He turned from Swiss and yelled, “She’s over here.”

Three men in army uniforms entered his grandmother’s room. Two of them carried a stretcher. They put it down beside his grandmother. The other man had on plastic gloves, and he touched her neck. “She’s dead,” he said, like he had solved a great mystery, and then placed a white sheet over her body. The first two men picked her up.

“Wait,” Swiss said. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop… STOP!”

They paid no mind to him but continued their job and placed her on the stretcher. They picked up the stretcher just as Swiss ran in front of them, blocking them from going any further.

 “Did you hear me? Put her down.”

The woodsman nodded to the men who had looked to him for answers. “It’s all right,” he said.

“Just give us a few moments.”

The men placed the stretcher back on the floor, and then walked out of the bedroom.

Swiss said, “I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know that you just chopped my grandmother with an ax. I’m calling the police.” But as he said the words, he did understand that all was not normal.

 “She is the property of the United States Government. Thirty years ago, she traded her citizenship for compensation and help. She’s werewolf, the real deal, and she needed help to stop killing people. After she signed her life over to us, the scientists found that silverweed kept the symptoms of the disease in check. Only, as soon as she was better she reneged on her deal and fled with outside help. I have been tracking her ever since. It seems I found her just in time.”

Swiss sat on the edge of his grandmother’s bed. None of it made sense, but yet, things began to make more sense than ever. The muffins. “Still,” Swiss whispered, feeling the sting of his slashes shouting something else at the same time. “She wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“She had no control once she changed. But I don’t think she has changed much over the years, though,” the woodsman said thoughtfully. “I always check out the stories where there’s been an animal mauling. Until a year ago, there wasn’t any that had signs of werewolf. But that’s how I ended up here. She must have missed a dose of silverweed. I’ve been watching her place for over six months now.”

Changed, Swiss thought. His grandmother changed into a wolf and then tried to eat him.

“I’m really glad you spied me in the woods today,” the woodsman continued, “If not, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to try those muffins. The taste of parsnips confirmed my suspicions, and since there was a full moon, I feared for your safety. I really hoped I’d be able to take her in alive.” The woodsman shook his head. “I’m really sorry about your grandma. You do realize that more than just your life was in jeopardy tonight. She was a wild animal, and there would have been no way to tame her, no matter how much silverweed she ate.” With that, the woodsman stuck his head out the door and told the men to come back in.

This time Swiss didn’t say anything; he just let them take her away.

“Here’s my number.” The woodsman handed Swiss a card. “You can have her in a couple of days so you can give her a proper burial.”

Alone in his grandmothers room, Swiss put his face in his hands and cried for the second time that day. He ached all over, especially on his right side. He reached down and held it. “Ouch,” he said, as lifted up his shirt to look. He saw his blood pooling at surface of a wicked bite. Swiss knew too well what it meant. His mother had told him countless stories of vampires and werewolves.

This meant he would share in his grandmother’s fate.

He thought that perhaps he should stop the man to tell him, and show him and ask what he should do. No, he already knew what to do.

 Silverweed muffins every day… every day.

 The End

Buy the YA novel – Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale

Read about the Superstitions and the beginnings of Silverweed

Spring For Love: blog hop and giveaway – Featuring Author Dale Ibitz

spring for love blog hop Hi friends,

Welcome to the first day of the weekend long Spring for Love blog hop and giveaway!

My guest today is author Dale Ibitz. Dale was born in Oxford, Connecticut, grew up in the state of Washington, and then re-located back to Connecticut as an adult where she studied English at Central Connecticut State University. She never left, choosing Connecticut as her permanent home. Dale’s a fan of hiking and the outdoors, and she never, ever starts the day without chocolate and coffee (preferably together).

What does Dale like most about spring?

“Green. After a long winter of nothing but stark white, love the green that blooms. There’s no other green like spring-green!”

Dale Ibitz’s latest novel Kiss Me Dead is available on Amazon

Dalt Ibitz - KissMeDead

One curse …
Christian, a nineteen-year-old reaper-human hybrid enslaved to the Other World to harvest souls, earns his freedom by making a bargain with the Goddess of Death. As part of the bargain, he’s been cursed with the kiss of death.

One kiss …
The only way Christian can break his curse is for an angel to kiss him. Willingly. He finds Brooke, a nineteen-year-old descendant of a Naphil whose destiny is to hunt rogue reapers. But she’s hiding, suffocating in a semi-agoraphobic cocoon since witnessing a reaper steal her brother’s soul.

Two destinies …
Christian has found the angel who can break his curse, and the seduction begins. To break her phobia’s hold, Brooke embraces her angelic role and makes it her mission to kill rogue reapers, trying to avenge her brother’s murder.

 Christian can break his curse by kissing Brooke dead. Brooke can avenge her brother’s murder by killing Christian. Neither planned to fall in love.


Visit the Spring for Love’s Rafflecopter to find out how you can win a $50.00 Amazon gift card or other fun gifts!  (Enter Here)

Visit Dale Ibitz on the web:

Amazon Author Central

More books by Dale Ibitz:

Last Moon Rising Boxset (Books 1 -3)

Blood Tied (Last Moon Rising #4)

Thanks for visiting! Stop by tomorrow; I will be featuring author Jo Richardson. And make sure to visit all the participating author’s websites for more chances to win and to get the info on new and upcoming titles from Soul Mate Publishing.

Love and laughter,


Short Story: The Vampire’s New Suit + Free EBook

supernatural fairy tales bannerThe following short story inspired by The Emperor’s New Clothes,  is one of the short stories from my collection: Supernatural Fairy Tales. The Kindle eBook will be Free August 5, 2014. 

Fairy tale inspired paranormal short stories.

fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale.

These 9 Supernatural Fairy Tales are not retellings of the original fairy tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, and more, in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending.


The Vampire’s New Suit

by Dorlana Vann

His apartment was on the top floor of a tall apartment building. Everyone knew he was a vampire, so no one would have bothered him even if he had been on the very bottom. That was why he found it strange when he heard the knock. After opening the door, he asked, “May I help you?” but thought: magnificent—take-out delivered to my door.

“Excuse us, Mr. Smith,” said the first young man of two, “for dropping by unannounced, but you’re not listed.”

“There is a reason for this,” the vampire said.

The second young man said, “I’m Mark, and this is my partner, Trey.” He held out his hand graciously and, without a mere tremble, he shook the resident’s hand.

Intrigued, Smith sought to connect with the gentleman’s eyes. When he avoided this with skill, the vampire couldn’t help but grin, something he hadn’t done for centuries. “Perhaps you have happened upon the wrong doorstep,” he said, only because he liked them.

Trey cleared his throat and also avoided Smith’s stare, except with less sincerity. “We’re new to town; however, we do know… who you are.”

Mark said, “We believe we offer a service that may very well interest you and benefit your particular situation.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Smith said. “Is that right? Well, in that case, do come in.” It had been a long time since the vampire had guests—that were alive at any rate—and he found that he was quite enjoying the change of pace. Suddenly the mundane lifestyle that he had become accustomed to became clear: sleep, eat, and watch TV. He had been doing the latter before the interruption and used the remote to click off the early evening news. “Please, have a seat,” he told the boys. “I’m afraid I do not have any refreshments… that you would enjoy.” He couldn’t ignore the sudden sound of Trey’s heart as it pumped a refreshment of its own. He licked his lips, knowing the evening could only get better.

“Mr. Smith,” Mark said, clearly noticing the look of desire in the vampire’s eyes. “Perhaps we should come back another time?”

“Don’t be silly,” the vampire said. “There is no better time. Perhaps you should state your business.”

“Of course,” Mark said, pulling Trey down beside him as he sat on the couch. “Our company, of which Trey here is a new recruit, provides a unique service to, shall I say, our nocturnal clients. We understand and sympathize with the fact that you are a prisoner in your home from sun-up to sundown. We have developed a fabric that is solar and flame resistant but extremely lightweight. We design and produce clothing made of these exclusive materials.” Mark reached inside his bag and pulled out a black swatch. Handing it to the vampire he said, “This is the most popular with our clients, but we do offer many different colors. All we need to get started are your measurements. As you can imagine, this discreet service is not cheap. It’s company policy to receive half…” he stopped when it seemed he had lost his audience.

The vampire had walked into his modest kitchen and turned on the stove. After all, he wasn’t born yesterday. He put the little piece of fabric over the flame. Nothing happened. He was impressed, already imagining the possibilities. The thought of walking outside during the day after so many, many years was very enticing.

The young men took out their tailor tools, a small catalog, and more fabric samples. In no time, Mr. Smith had chosen a dark gray, pinstriped suit with a high collar, black gloves, and a hat complete with ear and neck coverings.

As the weeks passed, the vampire actually became fidgety. He thought about all of the wonderful things he would be able to do during the day. He could even do lunch—if he were to be so bold.

He began to amuse himself as he pondered curious things that didn’t have to do with feeding. He wouldn’t have to hide in shadows. Maybe he would see a matinée. He could walk among the mortals, saying, “Good afternoon.” He picked up the catalog the young men had left behind. He thought that next time, he might even buy khaki. He would almost be… human.

Finally, the knock came at the door.

Mark held up a black garment bag. “I have your new suit,” he said with a smile.

The vampire moved out of the way and let him enter the apartment. “Where is your friend?”

“Trey told me he had a previous engagement,” he said and then winked. “Between us, I think he’s a little afraid that you no longer need us.” After giving the vampire ample time to answer, Mark said, “You know, I am your personal tailor, and the only way to get more of these, is through me.” He put the bag on the couch and unzipped it. He pulled out a handsome, well-tailored suit.

It was just like the one in the catalog. Mr. Smith couldn’t hold back his excitement and snatched it out of Mark’s hands.

Mark winced from the sudden pain the vampire’s nails had caused. The amicable mood immediately transformed into intense as they both looked at his hand, the red blood slowly escaping its safe haven.

For the first time, the vampire caught and held Mark’s stare. It was so unexpected and so challenging that it seduced the vampire into wanting to win. It had been a long time since he had fought such a tough challenger. But of course, the mortal was no match in the end.

The vampire dropped the suit, catching Mark before he hit the carpet and carefully placed him on the couch. He grinned, his fangs hungering for the taste of such a satisfying victory. Nevertheless, he looked down at his new clothes. The young man would be out for a while, plenty of time for him to try out his new suit.

Although the vampire had acquired quite a wardrobe over the centuries, he had never felt the likes of the material that was against his body. It was soft, like silk, yet form-fitting. He wished he could see himself in a mirror. He settled with knowing he would be able to analyze the expressions on people’s faces. Even though the glare of terror so pleased him, he was anxious to see a new look in their eyes; one of awe and admiration. Complete with gloves and hat, he walked out his door.


“Wake up sleepy head.”

It took Mark a moment to stop his dream and to realize he was asleep. He opened his eyes, took in a panicked breath, and sat straight up. When he clearly remembered his predicament, he hastily felt his neck.

Trey stood over him with his arms crossed. “You’re clear. Even if I am a rookie, I know the rules. If he had bitten you, you wouldn’t have woken up.”

Mark nodded, feeling truly foolish. In all his years of being a slayer, he had never allowed himself to be hypnotized by one of them. “Mission complete?”

“Poof,” Trey said, his eyes wide with excitement. “You should have seen him. Oh, that’s right; you decided to take a nap. Anyway, it only took him a second to trust the suit before strolling down the sidewalk like a man about town. When I realized you weren’t right behind him, I knew what I had to do. But don’t worry; I waited, like you taught me, until he hit the mark. I was shaking so bad, but I managed to grab the pull tag before he even noticed me. But when he did see me, he knew something was rotten and went for my throat. I ducked and ran like hell. What a rush! When I was far enough away and got the nerve to turn around, I saw him still standing in the same spot with nothing on but a frown. But then a second later…” Trey had his fist up by his face. He popped his hands open wide and whispered, “pooffff.”

“Did you gather the catalog and the rest of the money?”

“Yeah, all right here.” Trey held up a white envelope. “You know, I still don’t understand why we just don’t clean them out.”

“I’m not in this for the money. I only charge what is needed to fund our operation. Otherwise, we could turn into the bloodsuckers.” Mark stood up, still feeling a little woozy. “Speaking of bloodsuckers, who’s next on our list?”

“Female,” Trey said. “What I hear is that she’s really young-looking, smart, and smokin’ hot. Hmm… I don’t know. We may have a problem, seeing as you let this repulsive ancient dude—”

“Funny,” Mark said, snatching the envelope from Trey. “Just give me the details.”

The End

Supernatural Fairy Tales

The Vampire’s New Suit is one of the short stories from my collection: Supernatural Fairy Tales. The Kindle eBook will be Free August 5, 2014. 

Fairy tale inspired paranormal short stories.

fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale.

These 9 Supernatural Fairy Tales are not retellings of the original fairy tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, and more, in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending.

Birthday EBook Giveaway

Hi Friends,

4 of my 5 eBooks will be free on  July 9th. This will give you a chance to grab a book you missed or become a first time reader.  (I have five eBooks, however, only four are eligible for giveaways at this time. )

Jaclyn's Ghost

Jaclyn’s Ghost by Dorlana Vann

Jaclyn’s Ghost by Dorlana Vann

Ghosts, Mystery, and Fashion.

Can this diva solve her own murder, or will she be stuck in limbo forever?

Supernatural Mystery, Romantic Comedy

Amazon U.S. (Kindle) (Kindle)

Supernatural Fairy Tales

Supernatural Fairy Tales by Dorlana Vann

Supernatural Fairy Tales by Dorlana Vann

fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale

a collection of paranormal short stories inspired by fairy tales

Silverweed by Dorlana Vann

Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale by Dorlana Vann

Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale by Dorlana Vann

In this Little Red Riding Hood-inspired supernatural fairy tale,

the roles of prey and predator become interchangeable.

  Young Adult, Dark Fantasy

Amazon US

The Princes of Tangleforest by Dorlana Vann

The Princes of Tangleforest by Dorlana Vann


The Princes of Tangleforest by Dorlana Vann

How do you change Frogs Nerds

into Princes the popular kids ?

Young Adult, fairy tale inspired

Amazon U.S. (Kindle) (Kindle)


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