My middle-grade book, Kiwi in Cat City, is free to read here

Hi, you can read Kiwi in Cat City, the first of 6 books for kids aged 7-100, for free here. The series was selling well until 2015, so I thought why not make it free, because the whole idea was to be read.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ihUVY_CmQpq-n9w5Y5NcfesjSv8zpE8L/view?usp=drive_link

4.2 4.2 out of 5 stars   (60 reviews on Amazon)

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Book 1 in the Kiwi Series about a magical cat

Have you ever wished your cat could talk or wondered where he/she goes when you are not around? Kiwi is a black cat with a big secret – she is magical and comes from a city of catizens. One night when the moon is shaped like a cat’s claw, Amy and James follow their pet cat to see where she goes. With a flick of her tail, Kiwi turns the kids into kittens and leads them to the blue-lit Cat City, where the budding detectives help Inspector Furrball to investigate a catnapping and Kiwi meets her nemesis.

KIRKUS REVIEW – “Though the book is a mystery, the bloodshed-free crime means that the book is safe enough for younger readers to enjoy, and funny moments – provided by the bumbling Paws and lots of “cat” wordplay – keep the story light. The sleuthing will captivate young readers... Cats, a dash of fantasy, and a puzzling mystery are a recipe for a fun read...”

In the Kiwi Series, Amy, James and Kiwi go on different adventures, dealing with catnappings, jewel thieves, giant mice, time travel, haunted houses, Father Christmas, pyramids and more. The fun stories contain positive messages about loyalty, friendship, honesty, bullying and the power of friendship.

With illustrations by Nikki McBroom.

Book 4 in the series was a finalist in the Children's Books category of the National Indie Excellence Book Awards 2013.

A Poem a Day (630): NaPoWriMo Day 3 - Night shift

 

NaPoWriMo Day 3

The prompt: we’d like to challenge you to write a surreal prose poem. www.napowrimo.net

Night shift 

In a breath of night, the delicate marigold crumbles into starlight, reborn in the webbing, the ice caught in a glance of the echo of the being at the end of the world. He strides in sentience, his night shift, the distant roots of the underworld beneath his feet shaken, turned, upended, the sand sinking, seeking an escape.

 

A shadow strikes the wall and we are still, our breath suspended in our mouths, tasting dust. In front of our faces, the wisp of curtain flickers. We stay silent. So loud it needs to be pierced. My toes are blocks of ice. I am chill. My bones ache in the draft evicted from the struck open window.

 

But here, in this space, he walks. Like a tide opening the shadows, the despair, the darkness of his being seeping into all the myriad cracks and spaces, seeking to prise them open and bleed inside.

 

We are as we were, still as the wall. In a second the one true candle will flicker out and we will be trapped, like spiders, never to be seen again.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, April 3, 2024

A Poem a Day (564): Down the rabbit hole

This poem was written in September 2019, but never published online. I just found it wandering through... Alice and the White Rabbit...

Down the rabbit hole

Mary 4 Jack forever, kiss-kiss,
Ian woz here, Lucy heart Dave,
Jane is a user and she’s going down.
 
So the graffiti bog sings…
 
It’s a little thing,
what are you thinking?
I’m writing.
It’s a little thing.
I’m listening
 
Rabbit 1: Come on, you could sort her out.
Rabbit 2: …
Rabbit 1: She’d be ugly then, ha ha.
Rabbit 3: Well, maybe just break her arm!
 
It’s a little thing,
'Death and the maiden’,
so it goes.
Have you read it?

I’m listening –
Frasier?
The doctor isn’t in the house,
so who’s listening?

He spins riddles out of pools of shit
in this white-tiled house.
Windows are eyes.
 
Is it a little thing?
He’s ex-military;
he can take care of himself.
 
Rabbit 4: I was told to stay away.
 
The maiden’s sinking into time.
 
Who is throwing daggers at closed doors?
Where does the missionary sing?
But it’s a little thing.
 
Rabbit 5: He wanted to knee-cap her.
Rabbit 6: He wanted it to look like an accident.
Rabbit 7: Or a mugging.
Rabbit 8: She could be paralysed.
 
It’s an invisible thing,
this thread,
spiralling,
dragging everything with it.
 
A simply crazy thing to do,
walking bridges in collapse.
 
The Tower brings a warning,
blazing all to the ground.
 
Talk in echoes, shadow silence.

The mud is sinking,
pus is rising,
the cistern overflows.

The white room closes in,
a code of silence obliterated.

Sliding doors,
hours
to
crawl,
caressed by claws.
 
We reimagine,
imagine
a freefalling thing,
but then it's real.
 
Julie loves Jason, Yvonne woz here,
Mark wets the bed, Lisa is a go-er.
 
So the graffiti bog sings…
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 15, 2019

Just published: new charity book of poetry and fiction in aid of Ukraine

I’m happy to announce the publication of this charity book of poetry and short stories to raise money for a Ukraine charity. I contributed two poems.

Stand Together: A Collection of Poems and Short Stories for Ukraine

A collection of poetry and short stories about war, warriors, hope and sunflowers.

Click here to buy

The writers: 

L. Butcher, Roman Nyle, Charles Yallowitz, Vickie Johnstone, Andrew P. Weston, Rebecca Miller, Michael H. Hanson, Charles Yallowitz, Victoria Zigler, Joe Bonadonna, Richard Groller, Rhavensfyre, Andrew P. Weston, Anthea Sharp, Marta Moran Bishop, Colene Allen, J.C. Fields, A.L. Butcher & Diana. L. Wicker, Inge - Lise Goss, Sean Poage, Rebecca Lacy.

A Poem a Day (119): Off!

Well, it's been a while. Hello everyone in 2020! It's a strange year, to say the least, a difficult one, a tragic one, something we could never have imagined happening. One where I dread to read the news, but need to know what is going on in the world, while feeling powerless to help. Keep safe, everyone. I hope you and your loved ones are well and keeping safe. 

This is a poem I just wrote for JD Mader's 2minutesgo writing exercise on his blog, Unemployed Imagination. If you'd like to write something, or read and comment on other people's writing, head over there. He's open every weekend, or at least his website is! 

Off!

The world stopped, but I didn’t want to get off.

It stopped turning. But I still had things to say.

“Don’t loiter in the throughway.”

My fingers caught the rail tighter lest it disintegrate

To nought, like the globe around me and below

Where the cities stood silent, emitting solitude

While the cherry tree blossoms wilt to grey.

This window contracts, ever-decreasing my view

Of the things I used to do, the faces I used to

Know. Where are you? I spoke to you yesterday,

Yet I can’t see you in my memory of the crowd.

Are you down there, sitting mute behind your view,

Keeping your fortress closed, breathing stale air?

I remember moments sewn in a patterned quilt,

And you, you providing the voiceover to each

Scene. I recall some, but I know some are gone now.

“Don’t loiter in the throughway!”

It’s my turn. Someone is urging me, pressing soft,

Steadily insistent. I know I have to take the step,

This leap into the unknown, the gap between

Here and the below, embrace the nothingness.

I wonder where you all are, every one of you.

It’s been two weeks, but it seems so much more.

I feel time ticking, even though it stopped dead.

The conductor nods his head and I know now:

I have to get off.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, March 27, 2020

Smashwords' Authors Giving Back Sale: I have some books for free

Hi!

Hope everyone is bearing up well in these weird times and keeping safe. And I hope everyone's loved ones and friends are also okay.

Smashwords.com has a sale on at the moment called Authors Giving Back, so if you'd like something new to read, there are many books at discount prices or free.

You can find mine here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/vixie

The books I have for free are:

The Sea Inside

3 Heads & a Tail

Kiwi in Cat City

Kiwi's Christmas Tail

Day of the Living Pizza

Day of the Pesky Shadow

Kaleidoscope (poetry)

Travelling Light (poetry)

Mind-spinning Rainbows (poetry)

Life's Rhythms (haiku)

Enjoy!

A Poem a Day (118): Rail sparks

Written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo website – head over there to write, read and comment every weekend... you've still got time. This one is about a train journey. The passenger is gazing out of the window, looking back and forward. 

Rail sparks 

We talk in time of sober news,

Colours fleshed out from the sun.

Paired in vases, clipped tulips stand

To attention, listening, not judging,

I decide. Do they find us wanting,

Still pretending to be bold?

They are as we were in our youth,

Petal-soft, unwrinkled, their fresh

Scent of positivity taking the room.

They nod in the summer breeze,

Offering their sweet pollen with a

Suggestiveness only known to bees.

Here are the places where we walk,

The spaces abandoned by walkers,

Who circled in and out before us.

Their footprints press into this earth

Like restless roots, seeking to delve

In deep, seeking a key to grounding.

The memory twitches back and forth.

It’s made for them to breathe and shout,

Petals. Words. Words are everything.

They stand waiting for an explanation.

This metal lung chugs lonely in the dark,

Electric sparks dance upon wet rails,

Flicker, trigger, across this sombre field,

Wheels creaking in a slow-drawn wind.

We scatter our light in suitcases

For our neighbours to see and wonder,

To investigate whether these things fit,

And check if we were ever really here.

Travelling lightly, the velvet tulips breathe,

Not knowing where our wanderlust shall go.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, December 3, 2019

A Poem a Day (117): Brush

Here's another one I wrote for JD Mader's 2minutesgo website last week.

Brush

He paints a life in seconds,
An image of use, departed feathers,
Where the grasses stand tall
Sucking nutrition from the sun.

Sparrows squawk, dip and hide,
Finding rest on the highest limbs.
These woods offer silent repose,
An escape from the grey metal grind.

He circles wonder to render order,
Colour trickles through his hands.
The Cumulus sail, gather to roll in,
But supper can wait, time still.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 16, 2019

A Poem a Day (114): Cobwebs

Written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo website – head over there to write, read and comment every weekend...

Cobwebs

Dust and sound,

And sound disintegrating

Into dust,

Buried, hidden;

Only a silent scream,

Extinguished,

Voices starved of

Oxygen. Dumb,

Silenced, suffocated,

The words stolen,

Reiterated anew to

Spiral out of context,

Trodden and stamped

Upon. All these forbidden

Days watered down,

Streaming, where

Sound exhumed dust.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, October 18, 2019