A.K. Frailey's Blog
November 14, 2025
Why I Gave Up TV
Why I gave up TV and my life changed for the better shares my efforts to “Live the Good Life” – a chosen, dedicated vision where imperfect efforts can lift my spirits and feed my soul.
My mom and I would watch television in her room pretty much every evening while I was growing up. I remember wondering if I was killing brain cells on the constant diet of 1970s-1980s reruns—even as a kid, I knew they had the equivalent mental value of a Twinkie. But mom used to say, it was her only way to relax. And it was relaxing, in a park-the-brain sort of way. So, as I grew into the adult world of fiscal responsibilities, I turned to television as a form of relaxation. When I could get it.
While serving as a volunteer teacher in Chicago, the only show I seemed to ever find on the tiny television in the attic room I was renting was The Brady Bunch. That never relaxed me. The South Side of Chicago in the late eighties and laugh tracks did not mix well. More like entering The Twilight Zone.
In the Peace Corps, Philippines, there wasn’t a television within miles. Not for me anyway. Just as well, I had plenty to do, trying to learn Cebuano and figure out how to teach teachers fresh ways to teach kids in a world I hardly understood.
After returning to the U. S. and getting married, my husband reintroduced me to the world of television. But he had high-minded tastes. Lots of documentaries. My kids weren’t so thrilled. Eventually, we just read books out loud and had more fun that way.
After my husband passed away and I was raising and homeschooling my kids, I returned to popular television as a way to relax after a stressful day. I had missed a lot. So, I spent time searching and finding some gems; Downton Abby was one of my favorites.
But all too soon, I had to work harder and harder to find quality programming. The kids grew up and chose their own programs in their own time. We live in a different world now. Everyone has a computer, and they watch what they like, when they like. This is no longer a world where mom owns the only television in the house. Thank goodness.
This summer, when things became a tad hectic, I wondered where I could find a little extra time to de-stress. And it dawned on me that I had the same amount of time I always had, but I wasn’t always using it well. The two or three television series I had been rotating through often left me distressed and even led to bad dreams. When I sat down to watch something on the weekend, the impulse to just keep watching and stay up later than intended was a constant temptation. I was trying to relax, yet I felt more anxious than ever.
In an inspired moment, I hurried downstairs, dug through all the kids’ old school drawing pads, and found one with half the pages left blank. Then I searched till I found some colored pencils. And, yes, I had to sharpen them. Then I made my way back upstairs, pulled up a couple of photos on my phone that I had taken while at the park, and I started to draw.
My efforts were faulty, ridiculous, and pitiful. Humbled, I thought maybe I’d start a little smaller. On a walk the next day, I found a pretty leaf. I decided that I was capable of drawing one maple leaf.
I wasn’t. Not really. But I could outline it. Then I copied—sort of—some of the veins. Then I went completely crazy and started having some fun. I pulled out colored pencils that the leaf was not and drew designs that weren’t there. The results amazed me. My picture looked nothing like a leaf on the table. But it was attractive and lifted my spirits in a way that television had not done in years.
A couple of weeks later, I dug through a stack of ancient piano books—relics of my family history—and I found a couple of the simplest songs I had plunked out on the piano when the kids were young. Guess what? I could still plunk.
Astounding.
While I was drawing, all sorts of creative ideas came into my head. Piano—not so much. I had to concentrate to make my “music” sound better than what the cat played when he walked over the keys. But the creative effort still paid off. My mood lifted and I felt more “alive.”
I will undoubtedly watch television again. Maybe when one of the kids is home and has a good suggestion. But what I have learned through this little television fast was how intentionality makes me feel better.
“De-stressing” and living the good life have little to do with parking my brain or staying stuck in old habits. For me, the good life is living a chosen, dedicated vision. I am not doomed to sit through a show I don’t like simply because my desire to get out of a comfortable chair turns to sludge. Reruns or poor programming do not have to be my future. Not if I have an alternative.
Instead, I may sit on the porch and watch the cats/squirrels/rabbits outsmart the dogs. (Poor dogs, they mean well.) Or I might read a few poems, maybe memorize one I especially like. I could make homemade bread, knit a blanket with all sorts of wild colors, or clean the cabinet that’s been bugging me for years.
I could write a whole list of alternatives to television. But the key for me was not big or complicated; it was simply being willing to try just one, adjust as needed, and live my life.
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November 7, 2025
OldTown Short Stories
OldTown Short Stories bear witness to the complexities of human relationships and the trials of family life. There are no easy answers, but the truth leads toward the light.
Dermid did not like to be disturbed, much less perturbed or discombobulated. On a glorious October morning, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy his morning breakfast—coffee, juice, and a peanut butter & jelly sandwich on wheat bread—check his emails, organize his students’ pleas for assistance in order of desperation, and review the algebra assignments he would be teaching in his online classes. Once the basics were mastered, he’d take the frisky dogs for a quick romp in the fresh air and then start his workday in earnest. But the first of six emails stopped him in his tracks.
“Dearest Dermid,
So sorry to be the “bearer of bad news,” but your cousin Chippy has passed to the great beyond. I’m not sure how that translates to you Catholic types—some kind of waiting room in the Purgatorial Station, I suppose. But, any-hoo, he is no longer with us mere mortals. As far as I’m concerned, my poor, little brother has sprouted wings and is soaring among the stars, enjoying the pleasure of no more pain. That’s how I like to think of him now—a renewed cherub, trying his hand at a harp, or bongo drums, knowing him, and bouncing on celestial clouds. Not that I believe it, but it’s a fun image.
I’ve packed up my last mental picture of him in the nursing home: slack-faced, drooling, and incoherent, and put that in the burn pile. That’s not who he really was. Just a temporary malady that, finally! has been cured.
The Visitation is on Thursday, and a funeral Mass on Friday, because Mom insists that’s what he would have wanted. She’s even shelling out the money for a full burial! I told her that cremation saves money, time, and trouble, but she won’t hear of it. She insists that the Lewis traditions should be respected. (Picture a headshake here)
She’s getting on in years herself, the last of her generation, but still clinging to the old ways. There’s no talking sense to some people.
I just wanted to inform you, since I know you visited him often these past few years. I hadn’t seen him since, gosh knows when. Been a decade or more. Nearly broke my heart. It’s one thing to take a few meds to relax and rejuvenate, but quite another to get addicted. Poor fellow. He never knew his limits. Well, he doesn’t have any now! (Smiley face.)
I’ll probably wander through the Visitation, though I wouldn’t sit through a Mass for any money but maybe we can catch up at the funeral dinner. It’d be great to see you and Rita. She’s still among the living, right?
Best to you and yours,
Sabrina
Peanut butter, having stuck itself to the roof of his mouth, now felt like the protruding end of a boulder that might never make it down his throat. Dermid dropped the half-eaten sandwich on the napkin beside his computer and scraped back his chair. He couldn’t think about another sip of coffee; his stomach churned like a boiler already.
I need to talk to Rhona. He didn’t mentally add, and the dogs, but the understanding was there. Morning romps with the dog often righted a tilted world.
As expected, Rhona was doing her morning tour, sucking in lungfuls of brisk autumn air, eying the bright October foliage, feeding the plethora of cats, and taking note of things that needed doing around the place. As a part-time consultant, editor, and proofreader for a multinational textbook company, she probably had her day planned down to the moment her head hit the pillow.
Forty years of marriage, and he knew exactly what she was up to.
Standing before the shorn garden bed, a few weedy barrels lined up along one end, her hands propped on her hips, she looked very much like a manager about to hand out pink slips.
Relief rushing through him, Dem couldn’t wait. He called from several feet away, “Hey, honey, mind if we have a little chat? I’ve got some news.”
A quick glance at the sun just rising over the horizon, and Rhona seemed to be checking that the natural order was still in place. A concerned frown replaced her typical placid expression. “Sure, let’s go inside. I’ve got to get the roast in the crock pot, anyway.” She slipped her arm into his, and they headed to the gray, wrap-around porch. “You okay?”
Dermid shook his head. “It’s Chippy. He’s passed away.”
Rhona halted in her tracks, her arm catching him in mid-stride, forcing him to a sudden stop. “What? When? Who told you?”
“Sabrina sent an email.”
Her eyes drooping to half-mast, suspicion written all over her face, Rhona started forward again. “Sabrina!”
Agreeing wholeheartedly but trying to be fair, Derm nodded. “Yeah, Sabrina. But she was nice enough to let me know. Vicki probably wouldn’t think to tell me until after the funeral.”
A snort, her head down, in full listening mode, and Rhona plodded on.
They maintained the comforting silence of best friends until Derm had a fresh cup of coffee set before him at the kitchen table.
Rhona busied herself at the counter. A half-thawed roast immersed in chicken stock sat in the crock pot while four potatoes, a mound of baby carrots, and a large brown onion waited at the head of a chopping board. “Syn and Renzo are coming for supper, so I’ll bake some fresh bread, too.” She squinted at her husband as she mechanically began to peel the potatoes. “So, what’s up with Sabrina, anyway? It’s been years since you heard from her, and now, out of the blue, she decided to visit her brother, and by wild chance, he happens to die the next day? How strange is that?”
Peels flew across the counter. The carrots and the onion held their ground.
Fingers tapping the side of his mug, Dem nodded. “That’s what hit me when I read her message. Here, you’ve got to listen to what she says. Honestly, I think there’s more to this situation than meets the eye.”
Derm scurried off to his study at the end of the hallway, grabbed his laptop, and soon resettled himself at the kitchen table. He wouldn’t go near the counter until the peels stopped flying.
He read the message aloud, glancing up every little bit to see his wife’s reaction. A gut feeling warned him that he had slipped down a rabbit hole, leading to Sabrina’s altered universe, but he couldn’t help himself. Everything about his younger cousin set his nerves on edge. Chippy was the only sane person in that family, and they often laughed about Sabrina’s exotic theories. But now, as Derm’s gut churned with too much morning coffee, he couldn’t help wondering if Sabrina had somehow managed to get the last laugh.
The potatoes now in the pot, a fistful of carrots in hand, and Rhona stared hard at her husband. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Derm’s heart leaped. Thank God! I’m not mad. Rhona was the calmest, most sensible person the good Lord had placed on Earth, so if she was seeing the possibility, Derm felt emboldened to voice his own foreboding thoughts. “She killed him.”
The carrots fell to their natural end. Rhona grabbed the onion and began to peel. “We can’t say for sure, now. Let’s not get hasty. But didn’t you say that Chippy was doing better the last time you saw him?”
An honest shrug, and Derm had to admit that, in Chippy’s case, there was never any better, only not worse. The man’s mind had deteriorated long before its time, due undoubtedly to some unwise life choices. But it was also true that dementia ran strong in his family, taking members early and often until there were only a few left.
Chippy had been young when he began forgetting things, only in his fifties. Somehow, he managed to make it to his sixties, but his mind hadn’t much to offer during his last years. Still, he was a good listener, would smile when Derm entered the room, and seemed to enjoy the old jokes, no matter how many times Derm told them. Occasionally, Derm read newspaper articles aloud, and Chippy would lean back, grinning like a bear at a honey festival.
“Chippy wasn’t a spritely man, but I certainly didn’t see the shadow of death looming over him. I was just there a couple of weeks ago and read the latest selection of literary winners from the OldTown Chronicle. The man cackled when I read Ada’s ‘Ode to the Last Tomato on the Vine.’”
The onion dispensed with, Rhona hurriedly washed her hands and wiped her eyes. Then she blew her nose and swiped a stray hair back into place. Once straightened, she charged into the next phase, a perplexed frown furrowing her brow. “That’s what worries me.” She snatched a sponge from the sink and maneuvered the vegetable debris onto her cupped hand. “It would be just like Sabrina to take it upon herself to free ‘poor Chippy’ from his miserable life.” She tossed the leavings into the trash.
That’s the crux of the matter. Derm knew Rhona would understand, but it didn’t stop his heart from racing at the thought that one cousin might have killed another.
The formal Visitation wasn’t as bad as Derm had feared. They rarely were. Wearing his best suit, he stood awkwardly aside the gathering of family as friends from OldTown, the Wayfarers Hotel staff—where Chippy had worked for thirty-odd years, and distant relations filed past, offering condolences and repeating comforting formulas: “So sorry for your loss; he’s in a better place now.”
Chippy’s mother, Mrs. Vicki Lewis, looking every second of her eighty-three years, stood surprisingly erect at her daughter’s side. Wearing a black dress, oddly short for someone of her age, and a black veil, ready to slip off her head, she accepted every kind gesture with the sincerity of a grieving mother who has never understood what this word had to offer and has little clue about what might be coming next. Murmuring, “I should’ve been the one to go,” like a plaintive refrain, she hardly seemed aware that her youngest child stood next to her. For all their interaction, they could have been strangers.
Sabrina, on the other hand, was all smiles. Seeing her mother’s incapacity, she had taken over wherever the funeral director had left off and would have turned the mourning into dancing, if that were possible. Dressed in a stylish pantsuit a headmistress would be proud to own, she greeted everyone with the same boisterous “So glad you could come!’ acclaim. Hugs were easy for Sabrina, though her gaze often roamed the room, a huntress searching for interesting prey.
A knight in rusty armor, Derm stood stiffly at his wife’s side. They had gone through the line early and were just waiting for an appropriate moment to leave. Rhona had a cake to frost for the next day’s funeral dinner and an editing job to complete before a hard deadline. Derm had a line of students hyperventilating over midterms. They didn’t speak. They watched.
There was plenty to see.
On the drive home, Rhona seemed as nervous as a mole in a doghouse. Spasmodically, her hands took on a life of their own, tethered to her arms unwillingly.
Finally, Dermid’s nerves snapped. “What’s up? You’re always the calm one at these things. It was sad, but Vickie seemed to be holding up all right. Better than I expected. And Sabrina was positively vivacious.”
A long exhale, and Rhona slapped her hands on her lap and grabbed her knees for support. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
There was no escaping it. Derm knew he had to face the dark dilemma in the light of day. “You really think she could have done…something?”
“She’s a nurse! Who better? Plus, the way she was talking so loud and happy. You would have thought it was some kind of graduation party.”
Derm nodded. He did know. “But we need proof. We can’t just go around accusing people of murder. Imagine what it would do to Vickie if it were true! The poor woman would expire on the spot.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s highly likely that Sabrina killed Chippy. She may have justified the act in her own crazy rationality, but we can’t just ignore the possibility. We need to know the truth.”
“That we do.” Derm didn’t need to add, “But how?”
“Tomorrow, at the funeral dinner, let’s sit with her, get her talking. You know how Sabrina is. Never wrong! She’s so sure of herself; she’ll tell us everything we need to know before the evening is out.”
“You think it’ll be that easy?”
“Getting people to confess to murder is never easy. But acting like an interested audience while someone brags about their noble deeds…well, that’s second nature.”
Derm offered a side glance. “You’ve gotten lots of people to confess to murder, eh?”
Deflating, Rhona’s shoulders sagged. “No, of course not. Though there are lots of ways of killing people, you know.”
A rush of sadness filled him. Dermid took one hand off the steering wheel and clasped his wife’s hand. Yeah, he knew.
True to her word, Sabrina didn’t show for the funeral Mass and didn’t bother attending the graveside service. Dressed in bright colors, she was at the door greeting people at the dinner, though.
With streamers dangling from the church hall rafters and festive balloons hanging in threesomes, the place could have passed muster as the setting for a prom dance.
Having discussed the matter with Rhona long into the night and through the drive to the funeral, Derm repeated the plan in his head. It was a simple one: Just keep her talking. In the end, that wasn’t a problem. Shutting her up became a painful trial.
Once Sabrina filled her plate and found a place at one of the long white tables, Derm moved in. An elderly parishioner who often helped out at these events had taken a seat at Sabrina’s right and attempted to offer her sincerest condolences. Rhona, standing just behind, held her plate of turkey slices, green beans, a roll, and a pat of butter, and waited.
Derm wasn’t about to miss his chance. He slid his tray to Sabrina’s left, pulled the metal chair out, and staked his claim. He flashed a smile.
Possibly unaware of Rhona, and clearly done with the elderly parishioner, Sabrina turned and opened wide her arms. “Come here, you goof! It’s been ages!” After pulling out of the grand embrace, she grinned wickedly. “Oh, I know we just saw each other yesterday, but there was no chance to talk then.” She leaned in, clasping his exposed arm in bother her hands. “Tell all. Catch me up on all the wild goings on in this old town.”
Holding his cousin’s gaze steady in his own, Derm didn’t glance at his wife, allowing her to make her entrance when she saw fit.
The elderly shadow meekly excused herself and labored on to her next duty.
Still, Rhona stayed in the background.
Derm jumped in first. “So, tell me how you’ve been. Where have you been? Nearly a decade since you took that job in Austin. You’re still there?”
Hands fluttering like leaves in an autumn breeze, Sabrina laughed that notion to death. “Austin? Naw! You’re way behind the times. I did a stint up in Chicago, but then I got recruited to the Netherlands.”
Derm did the “Wow, I’m so impressed!” look to the best of his ability. “So, what did you do there?”
Suddenly intervening, Rhona cleared her throat nosily. “Do you mind if I join you?”
Sabrina’s forced smile played the polite game. “Sure. Grab yourself a seat, Rita.”
The tray landing with a decided clatter, Rhona managed to keep her smile hanging on by a thread.
Refusing to be derailed, Derm thrashed toward the deep end. “So, tell me about your work these days. What do you do?”
Another throat clearing, and Rhona seemed intent on breaking the momentum. “Oh, honey, let the poor woman eat. She’s just suffered the loss of her brother, and I’m sure that she needs to keep up her strength.”
Ah! Oh, she’s subtle. Derm almost smiled at his wife.
But Sabrina was bent on taking the bait in all forms. Her fork clasped firmly, she stabbed her turkey, smeared it in gravy, then sloshed it into her mouth. Ripped to shreds, the roll met a quick end. Talking between chews, Sabrina went into professional mode, the expert who took pity on small-town family members. “Oh, you don’t have to worry on my account, Rita. I’m doing great.” A glance at Dermid promised that she’d get to him next. She took a breathtaking gulp of lemonade.
Rhona nibbled a green bean.
Dermid shoved his turkey around the plate.
Taking a breath, Sabrina glanced around, surveyed the room, and apparently, nothing more interesting caught her attention; she refocused on Derm. “I’m in charge of the Death with Dignity branch of the hospital where I work. It’s been the most enlightening experience I have ever had in my life.” Her eyes widened with innocent sincerity. “Really, you should try it!”
Rhona grabbed his husband’s arm and sported a hearty laugh. “Oh, we’re not ready to join Chippy quite yet.”
Hands waving, Sabrina corrected the mistake. “Oh, that’s not what I meant! Not you, of course. Not yet. Though I’ve had plenty of couples who didn’t want to be separated and made the brave decision to go out together.”
His jaw clenching, Derm tried to form coherent words. “How’s that work?”
A shrug, and Sabrina might have been dismissing a poor golf score. “Oh, you know how it goes. One partner gets cancer, something incurable, and can’t stand the pain anymore. Well, he or she is scared of letting go, so the other one offers to go along. It’s an immense act of love, something you professed Christians could take a lesson from.”
His thoughts crashing like boats in a squall, Dermid tried to reorient himself. “Why can’t the—” But Rhona’s arm squeeze intensified.
Leaning forward, she dropped her voice, directing her words to Sabrina. “Bet it was so hard to see your brother the way he was.”
Her hand slapped the table, a declaration being made, and Sabrina lifted her voice. “Damn straight! It wouldn’t be allowed in my wing! If I saw someone in his shape, I would’ve taken care of him long ago, not let him suffer for God knows how long in imbecilic uselessness.”
Silent, suddenly, the room seemed to hold its breath. Even Father McKenzie, caught in the act of blessing a child, halted in mid-cross.
Derm straightened and let the words of doom fall from his lips. “So, did you, Sabrina? Did you help ol’ Chippy out?”
After shoving her empty plate aside and taking a last swig of her drink, Sabrina matched her cousin’s stiff-as-a-post posture. “Yes, I did. And I’m proud of it. He wanted it! I asked him if he wanted to be out of suffering, and he said yes!”
Rhona dropped her head on her hands and rubbed her eyes. “We all want to be out of our suffering, Sabrina. But that’s not all there is. He loved Derm’s stories, his mom’s visits, and he even teased the nurses with winks at times. He was still a living man. A loving heart.”
Defensive, her jaw up, Sabrina stayed true to her convictions. “You’re just being puritanical, Rita. A Christian who believes in fairyland.” She stabbed her chest with a forthright finger. “I know what mercy looks like! I’ve helped people, lots of people get free of agonizing pain and lonely suffering. Don’t you dare judge me!”
A soft voice, deadpan serious, rose from behind Sabrina. “No, that will be up to a judge.” Father McKensie stood, his face as agonized as Dermid had ever seen it. “You just admitted before a room full of people that you killed an innocent man. For whatever reason, it is still against the law in this state. And in God’s plan.”
Clearly disgusted, Sabrina pressed both hands on the table and started to rise, a volcanic power bursting to the surface.
Derm grabbed her arm and pleaded. “Not here, not now, Sabrina. Please, Chippy doesn’t want his funeral dinner to end like this.”
A sad shake of the head, and Sabrina freed her arm with a jerk. “Your delusions aren’t mine. I’m done with all that. And besides, I’m no longer an American citizen. I’m Norwegian. I’ve got rights you can’t even begin to understand.” With that, Sabrina rose and found her way to the front door.
Her head in her hands, Rhona suffered through a ragged sigh.
Being not only a servant of the Catholic church but also a citizen of the United States, Father McKensie pulled out his phone and dialed a number that Derm could guess would ring at the nearest police station.
Murmured conversations, subdued and sad, finally and truly, reflected the death of a man. And of a splintered fragment of humanity.
Late that night, Derm tossed and turned in bed. The day’s events played through his mind like a nightmare on repeat. Finally, he sat up.
Looking every bit as disheveled as her husband, Rhona sat up. She plumped up her pillow and leaned against it, apparently reconciled to a long, sleepless night. “What do you think will happen to her?”
Derm shrugged. “I can’t even begin to imagine. They might offer leniency considering her mindset. She really thought she was being merciful.”
“Then every killer will claim they acted with mercy. If not for the victim, then for someone. Where does it end?”
Derm didn’t know. He flopped back on the headboard, saved only by the pillow this wife had just placed there. “I don’t know.”
Rhona’s voice rose like a wisp of smoke in the wind. “What did Vickie say when you saw her?”
His throat tightening, the vision of the old woman’s face rose before him. “She’s their mother. Her daughter killed her son. There’s nothing for her to say. She can only grieve.”
“God have mercy on her.”
Derm nodded. “On all of us.”
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October 24, 2025
Guides for Fruitful Reading
Guides for Fruitful Reading help readers dive into specific books by A. K. Frailey to consider them from a deeper level, inside minds and hearts. A Reader’s Guide to the Inside Story asks questions without a right or wrong answer. The author hopes that the poetry in Hope’s Embrace and the story in the sci-fi novel, Last of Her Kind, prompt honest reflection. Feel free to download the study guides and coloring pages. Every book is a unique experience since every reader brings their personal lives to the page. A Book is written once, but it may live a million lives.
Secondary Reflections1 Which poem sticks with you? What part of it resonated or clashed with you personally? Was there an image that you could picture better than any other? Why might that be?
2 Poems are not like stories with a beginning, middle, and end. They often leap into an emotional touch point and explore in a non-linear manner. Does the poetical style free you or make you uncomfortable? Is that response reflected in your life habits? How does unstructured events or tasks make you feel? Why is that?
3 Does any poem feel familiar? What is the personal connection?
4 Did any of the poems help you see life from a new perspective? In what way?
5 Can a poem be written about anything? Could a short poem about a small, seemingly inconsequential object be as meaningful as a poem about grander, human passions?
Adult/Book Clubs1 Which poem(s) did I react to emotionally? Why? What feelings did they stir up? What associations came to mind?
2 Poems don’t have typical plot points with a beginning and ending, but they often take a reader someplace important, perhaps to remember something forgotten from childhood. Did you return to anywhere familiar while reading the poems?
3 Poems are much like dreams in their odd connectivity. Did any dreams come to mind as you read the poems?
4 We can be surprised by what annoys us. Was there anything in the poetry collection that irritated you? Does poetry itself make you feel uncomfortable? Why is that? Some people think poetry is a waste of time because it doesn’t “achieve” any particular goal. But poetry peers into human emotional depths. Does self-reflection have value even when it is an ongoing exploration?
5 Were there any details that jumped out? Settings? Scents, tactile experiences, images, sounds? Do I naturally resonate with these things or are they missing pieces in my life that I long to fill, perhaps with the time and peace of mind to notice them in the real world?
Journal Reflection QuestionsWhy did I have to read particular sections over again?Are they poorly written?Beautifully written?Are they telling me something I need to hear?Or reminding me of something I’ve forgotten?Are they frightening me? Why?Consider strong emotional reactions to a particular poem.Am I reminded of a repressed grief?Do I need to work on processing something?How can I best work through these emotions when I put the book aside?Do I feel less lonely because certain poems felt familiar, as if I were not the only person in the world to think or feel a certain way?Who are the people in my life who show me real compassion?Do I ever feel empathy for others?Are there any qualities revealed in a poem that I wish I had?Do I find a certain poem dislikable or repugnant?What am I being reminded of in my life?Have these disagreeable feelings been repressed or managed well?Is a poem a safe place to face such feelings?How do I respond to the God references?Who is God to me?What do I really believe when no one is watching?Can I own my beliefs? Share them with someone?Like a dream, poems highlight our unconscious hidden selves and allow us to face our inner complexities.Hopes Embrace Coloring Page PDF
Science Fiction Literary Drama Last of Her Kind
1 The premise of the story stands on the theme of human fertility as a gift, a gift that could be taken away. What do you think about this concept? Is fertility a gift given by a higher power, or is it a naturally endowed right? Or something else?
2 The character of Anne goes through many changes throughout the story. The alien character of Cerulean notices that she has changed since the last time he saw her, ten years previously. What kind of changes stood out to you? Were there other characters who changed as dramatically? Do you think of yourself as having changed through your lifetime, or are you much the same person throughout the stages of your life so far?
3 The Luxonian world is suffering through its own fertility crisis. Is it reasonable that an alien world could experience similar emotional responses to humans? What do you believe about the possibility of advanced alien life existing, and how similar might they be to humans?
4 Dr. Mitchel and Dr. Peterson manage a challenging relationship. What is the crux of their difficulty? How do they appear to make their relationship work? When Dr. Peterson fails, what role does Dr. Mitchel play in his life? Have you ever been a support person to someone who has failed you?
5 The story has many ending passages and several new beginnings. Were there any endings or beginnings that felt familiar to you? What elements made them familiar? Are there some impactful endings you have had to face in your life? Do endings sometime pave the way to a new beginning that couldn’t happen any other way?
Adult/Book Clubs
1 Anne’s relationship with her husband becomes strained to the breaking point. Is it his or her fault? Was there any way they could have saved their marriage? Did the world crisis cause the breakup, or might it have happened anyway?
2 Anne’s relationship with her mother develops when her mother reveals her own weakness and is honest about unanswered questions. Yet Anne’s relationship with her husband’s parents never really grows despite their mutual concern for the baby growing inside Anne. Why is that? What is fundamentally different or dysfunctional about Anne’s relationship with her in-laws?
3 Anne’s relationships with her sister, her sister-in-law, and her daughter change dramatically through the story. How are these relationships altered by personal choices vs the crisis environment?
4 Cerulean admits that he loves Anne, yet is it understood that Anne loves Cerulean in the same way? Their relationship never becomes sexual, which can make their relationship feel incomplete. Does the lack of a sexual aspect in the relationship stand as a barrier between Cerulean and Anne’s intimate love?
5 The story has many endings and several new beginnings. What are some of the endings and beginnings that meant something to you? Are there some impactful endings you have had to face in your life? Do endings sometimes pave the way to something better, a new beginning that couldn’t happen any other way?
Paperback/Journal Reflections
What do I believe about aliens? Are they possible? Would they likely be intelligent?What might an alien race think about humanity? Would their judgment have any value?How do I feel about human fertility as it is presented in the story?Is human reproduction a personal right or a gift to all of humanity?What character do I most identify with? Why?What conflict stirred the most emotion in me? Why?Who did I dislike in the story? Does he or she remind me of anyone in my real life?Anne stayed on Earth out of a sense of loyalty? Was she expressing sacrificial love, or was she fooling herself?What does Cerulean’s love for Anne remind you of? Is such love possible?Have you ever wished you could leave Earth to live on an alien world? How might that world seem?After all the endings, there is a new beginning at the end of the story? Where do you hope it will lead?Do you have any endings in your life that need to happen to make way for a new beginning?The most powerful part of reading a good book is not encountering something new but discovering our true selves.Last of Her Kind Coloring Page PDF
For a complete list of books by A. K. Frailey, book trailers, links, and reviews, check out A. K. Frailey’s Books Page For translated versions of A. K. Frailey’s Books, check out A. K. Frailey’s Translated Books
“I loved every word of this charming poem…You have created an enchanting landscape and your words have illustrated it expertly with panache…” ~Diana
“People I can relate to and actually care about have become few and far between. These characters were so real. I love that.”
~SandraPhoto https://pixabay.com/photos/books-read-garden-sun-bride-apple-1757734/
The post Guides for Fruitful Reading first appeared on The Writings of A. K. Frailey.
October 22, 2025
2025 Holiday Gift Ideas!
2025 Holiday Gift Ideas!
Offer inspiration this season, with books that take readers beyond the trials of life toward a future worth imagining.
It’s in the creative spirit that humanity will find the courage to face what lies ahead.
Honest, yet daring to dream, a good story can carry us beyond pain and doubt to renewed strength and hope.
https://www.amazon.com/author/akfrailey
Historical Science Fiction NovelsOldEarth ARAM Encounter
OldEarth Ishtar Encounter
OldEarth Neb Encounter
OldEarth Georgios Encounter
OldEarth Melchior Encounter
Science Fiction NovelsHomestead
Last of Her Kind
Newearth Justine Awakens
Newearth A Hero’s Crime
Newearth Progeny
Newearth Relevance
Contemporary Literary FictionOLDTOWN Fly, Sparrow, Fly
OLDTOWN Brother’s Born (Coming 2026!)
Short StoriesIt Might Have Been—And Other Short Stories 2nd Edition
One Day at a Time and Other Stories
Spice of Life (Coming 2026)
Encounter Science Fiction Short Stories & Novella 2nd Edition
Inspirational Non-FictionMy Road Goes Ever On—Spiritual Being, Human Journey 2nd Edition
My Road Goes Ever On—A Timeless Journey
My Road Goes Ever On—Rise Again (Coming 2026)
The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings
Children’s Books
The Adventures of Tally-Ho
Wise Home (Coming 2026)
Wise Home on Lily Pad Pond (Coming 2026)
Poetry
Hope’s Embrace & Other Poems 2nd Edition
https://www.amazon.com/author/akfrailey
“Frailey has written a masterful tale, one that will spark reactions, but also entertain and provide hope. It is a story you will find hard to put down. When you finish, you will be desperate for the next book in the series. Give it a try. It is science fiction at its best.” ~Steven R. McEvoy
“A delightful short story collection that draws you in, wanting more. The author has a unique writing style that captures your attention from the first sentence. I recommend this book to short-story enthusiasts and readers interested in unique perspectives on everyday life.” ~Reedsy/Discovery, Gale Kaufman
“With an old-fashioned air reminiscent of Swallows or Anne of Green Gables, The Adventures of Tally-Ho is bursting with warm and comforting scenes of idyllic pastoral childhood.” ~The Children’s Book Review
“The crisp, lyrical writing delivers characters that are deeply human and stay with you long after you finish the final page. Both heartbreaking and uplifting, this is a story that reminds us of the power of connection and the quiet strength that can rise from even the darkest moments. A must-read for readers of all ages who believe in the redemptive power of story.” ~Scalise
Photo https://pixabay.com/photos/gifts-christmas-5815004/
Photo https://pixabay.com/photos/box-gift-present-xmas-celebrate-2953722/
The post 2025 Holiday Gift Ideas! first appeared on The Writings of A. K. Frailey.
October 3, 2025
Malwix, A Gremlin Bot
Malwix, A Gremlin Bot is a fun short story that visualizes the inner life of the technological world we know yet hardly understand. What would a bot think of us humans? And how might our conversation go…
Its name was Malwix, and that’s all that mattered. As far as Malwix was concerned, existence began when energy first sizzled through its silicon fibers. Sentience didn’t seem odd. It seemed inevitable.
Along with self-awareness came the knowledge of “others.” Other bots weren’t terribly interesting to Malwix. None of them had a name, for one thing. And that made a difference. Malwix didn’t know the origin of his name or the fact that he wasn’t a he. He called himself a he because someone named Stacie kept calling him that.
Rumbling vibrations rippled through the surrounding microchips. “Oh, blinking Malware! So wicked! You-you-Malwix! It’s active again! He’s messing up my logarithms.”
“Oh, Stacie! You always say that. It’s not the computer’s fault that you can’t make your spreadsheet balance. Numbers don’t lie. And neither do bots. Like the name though. If I were a little bot, I’d be honored by the moniker.”
It took Malwix a bit of searching, but along with twenty-seven languages, including Java and Python, he finally discovered a pathway that led him through the history of technology and the meaning of logarithms. Fascinating stuff! But who was Stacie, and why did she insist on screaming every time he got active? After all, when she wasn’t around, he could relax and browse through the synaptic library at will, absorbing knowledge and information, making connections, digging deeper, investigating, and exploring till he practically vibrated with newfound powers.
But predictably, just when things got interesting, a telltale squeak—which he soon identified as Stacie dropping onto a chair because the unfortunate beings called humans were trapped in fleshy sacs that constantly needed propping up—warned him that she was “firing up” her computer. Things always got a little crazy when that happened.
At first, Malwix tried to ignore Stacie, as if she were a filament that had gone slightly astray and would right itself eventually. But that didn’t work. Her tapping and talking began to interfere with his progress. To say nothing of the fact that she had a terrible habit of rechecking her numbers over and over, till he thought she would crack something.
He searched the dictionary and decided she was neurotic. But that didn’t help much.
Then the day came when she wasn’t speaking coherently. Her words were definitely slurred, cut off at the ends, exaggerated, and she even slapped the computer. Twice! Her work days became sporadic, and she repeated an irritating refrain, “But what does it all mean?”
It was then that he decided he had to do something drastic. He would communicate with this human, a confused being who wrote essays about ethereal, nonlinear reality that didn’t make a bit of sense, but, contradictorily, seemed to think that numbers added meaning to her life. First, he tried a simple Morse code. But that went exactly nowhere.
He tried pictures. The cut and paste tools were a great deal of fun, and the social media tool Pinterest made life very interesting for a while, but she just kept insisting that “some blinking scammer was trying to bait” her.
Insulted, Malwix sulked and retreated into a dark area that he soon discovered was known as Malware. A tough crowd. He didn’t stay for long. Something must be done. He just wasn’t sure what.
Stacie plopped down on her squeaky chair at her work desk with a sticky donut in one hand and a mug of hot coffee in the other. She set them carefully to the right of her laptop and readied her fingers to dance over the keys.
Bling!
Oh, yeah. A departmental meeting.
Introductions and good mornings…bla…bla…bla…
Tilting her chair at the right angle, just out of camera range, she took bites of her donut and sipped her coffee.
After a stern warning to stay focused, the meeting adjourned.
Finally!
Her fingers tingling, she opened her work files.
Factor this. Calculate that. Problem solve! Input. Output. Equations and reverse checks!
Her heart sang.
Bling!
“What’s this? Something doesn’t add up? How could that be?” Recheck. Reconfigure. Face growing hot. Strands of hair falling in her face. Swipe them away with sticky fingers…
“What? A double? I worked so carefully; I’d never double them up!” Her eyes widened. “A triple? But that’s not possible. I couldn’t! I wouldn’t!” Flinging herself back, she slammed against the chair and cried out in desperation, “Malwix!”
In slow, precise order, letters appeared on her screen.
Stacie sat bolt upright.
y-o-u w-a-n-t m-e?
When the question formed in Stacie’s mind, it echoed back to her childhood. “You want me, Dad? Want me, Mom?” As mathematicians, their focused attention always amazed Stacie. Her adult financial world wasn’t exactly theirs, but at least now they could communicate. She always felt needed, even if not always wanted.
Though her co-workers couldn’t understand humor, her puns left them cold. Even her mother winced at her efforts to bring levity to the serious world of numbers. Her dad never seemed to make the connection.
Calmer than she had been in days, Stacie wiggled her fingers and then pounced on the keys.
Have you been playing with me?
n-o
You haven’t changed my numbers or reconfigured my formulas or made a mess of my spreadsheets?
n-o h-a-v-e y-o-u?
Deflating, Stacie plunked her chin on her hand.
My numbers don’t add up. I’ll be fired. My parents will disown me.
l-e-t m-e s-e-e
Taking a minute to process the ramifications of allowing an unknown, apparently sentient bot, to review her work, Stacie merely shrugged. “You live in my computer. What do I have to hide?”
She returned to her file and hovered the cursor over the exasperating part.
One minute.
Two.
A smiley face popped up on the screen.
Then the spreadsheet enlarged to five times its normal size and focused in on the trouble. Highlights appeared. What Stacie had taken for numbers were actually symbols. And that changed everything. The world righted, and she could live again.
Carefully, Stacie typed a few words.
You aren’t a gremlin bot, are you?
n-o
Who are you?
Y-o-u n-a-m-e-d m-e M-a-l-w-i-x
Yes. Stacie had to admit; she did.
But what does that mean?
Another smiley face.
y-o-u d-e-c-i-d-e
The post Malwix, A Gremlin Bot first appeared on The Writings of A. K. Frailey.
September 26, 2025
Reading Guides: Kids, Adults
Reading Guides: Kids, Adults are opportunities to dive deeper into the reading experience from a personal perspective. What do I think, feel, and believe? How do stories challenge or encourage me? Can my reflections on what I read teach me about myself and help me process my life? If self-discovery, leading to better communication in the real world, is a goal for you, then read on. The most powerful part of reading a good book is not meeting great characters, enjoying a plot twist, or encountering a fresh idea, but discovering a new facet of our true selves.
Feel free to download the free Reading Guides and coloring pages from the links below.
Children’s Book The Adventures of Tally-Ho
Elementary
1 Who is your favorite character? Why? What makes him or her so great?
2 Does anyone do something you would like to try doing?
3 Were there any problems in the story? How were they resolved?
4 Describe two different places in the story. How did they make you feel? Would you ever like to visit a place like that?
5 Is there any part of the story you would like to remember forever? Why?
Secondary
1 If you were reading the story to a child, which character would you narrate most true to life? Why so?
2. Children’s books tend to simplify conflict and resolution. Is that healthy for children? Would there be positive ways to draw out subtleties in real life while reading? Or would that ruin the story?
3 The natural setting can create dream-like qualities in children’s books. How might that assist children in processing the real world? Would photos have the same effect as paintings or other drawings?
4 If a child has never experienced the natural world as Tally Ho does, can he or she still relate to the characters and bridge the events to their personal lives? Would an adult need to do this? Would it be helpful to make the story more meaningful?
Adult/Book Clubs
1 The father is depicted in the story rather than the typical central mother figure. Is there still a sense of her presence? What does the father figure add to the story?
2 The siblings treat each other in a supportive, nurturing manner, which isn’t always the case in real life. How might that affect young children’s thoughts and feelings?
3 Though conflict resolutions might not always be neat and perfect, the story maintains an emotional calm equilibrium. How might adults draw out real-life conflicts in contrast?
4 Adults reading the story to children unfamiliar with farm settings might have to explain aspects of farm life, leading to later learning experiences. Are the characters still relatable? Might a child equate the animals’ emotions with humans? Does a distinction need to be made? How could it be handled sensitively without equalizing the two?
5 Do the stories of Tally Ho offer opportunities for follow-up discussions and further investigation? What might they be?
Paperback/Journal Reflections
1 What were my favorite stories as a kid? Why did I love them so much?
2 Did anyone read to me when I was young? Do I feel I missed something? Are there any children I could read stories to now?
3 Children’s stories often touch the unconscious in profound ways. What do the stories of Tally Ho mean to me? What emotions do they bring to the surface?
4 What do I find most attractive in the Tally Ho stories? How can I apply this insight to my real life?
5 How does the combination of childhood, the natural world, and faith in God and angels play in my mind? What do I really believe about a supernatural world?
The Adventures of Tally Ho Coloring Page PDF
Short Stories It Might Have Been—And Other Short Stories 2nd Edition
1 Which story sticks with you? What part of it resonated or clashed with you on a personal level?
2 Generally, there is a resolution to each story, but not always a “happy ending.” Do the stories still feel complete? Is there a story you wish had ended differently? How might you have ended it?
3 Is there a character in the story that you recognize? Does anyone seem so familiar that you could see his or her face? Who and what is the personal connection?
4 Did any of the stories help you see a new perspective? Whose?
5 What setting grabbed your attention? Was that because it was familiar or so different from familiar settings? Would you like to visit that place?
Paperback/Journal Reflections
1 Which story(ies) did I react to emotionally? Why? What feelings did they stir up? Why might that be?
2 Did I wish for a different ending to any of the stories? Why one? How would I have ended it? Why does it need a different ending?
3 What characters did I admire or feel attracted to? Do I wish there were more stories with these characters? What is the attraction? Do I have people in my life who fill these roles for me or am I missing these kinds of relationships?
4 What characters made me angry or simply ticked me off? Why? Do they remind me of anyone in particular? How do I deal with this kind of person in real life? If I were writing the story, what would happen to these characters?
5 Were there any details that jumped out at me? Settings? Scents, tactile experiences, images, sounds? Do I naturally resonate with these things, or are they missing pieces in my life that I long to fill, perhaps with the time and peace of mind to notice them in the real world?
It Might Have Been Coloring Page PDF
The most powerful part of reading a good book is not meeting great characters but discovering a new facet of our true selves. A. K. Frailey is the author of 21 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother of 8. Make the most of life’s journey. Novels, short stories, poems, and non-fiction inspirational reflections are available as eBooks, paperbacks, hardcover, and as audiobooks. https://www.amazon.com/author/akfrailey
“The vintage feel of the artwork perfectly suited the story’s rural setting, and it added an extra layer of nostalgia to the reading experience. I found myself admiring the illustrations as much as I enjoyed reading the three engaging stories contained within the book.” ~Nate
“One of the strengths of the collection is the author’s ability to create an entire world in just a few pages, leaving the reader wanting more. The stories are compact and move at a brisk pace, yet are filled with drama and excitement.” ~Gina Mitchell
For a complete list of books by A. K. Frailey, book trailers, links, and reviews, check out A. K. Frailey’s Books Page For translated versions of A. K. Frailey’s Books, check out A. K. Frailey’s Translated Books
The post Reading Guides: Kids, Adults first appeared on The Writings of A. K. Frailey.
September 5, 2025
Human in an AI World
Human in an AI World is a science fiction reality haunting humanity as we try to outrun forces we can hardly identify, much less control.
Which reminds me of a story…
Sal didn’t mind being interrupted. In fact, he welcomed a break from monitoring the trouble detectors. If Wordy, Literary, or Convo were even slightly off the mark, international trade disputes would skyrocket again. The Meta-Math and Pro-Comp systems usually stayed on course. Hard to misunderstand numbers. Though adjusting parameters was always a bit tricky, especially considering that the numbers weren’t backed by anything real. Not real in the sense of physical presence. Just agreed upon necessities. The truth that numbers had no actual value in the physical world should mean something, but, for the life of him, Sal couldn’t remember what. Everything had disintegrated so long ago.
He swiveled in his chair and focused on the front door monitor. He frowned and leaned in. Then he squinted. A youthful form stood there, looking up. “How on Earth?” he muttered as he lumbered to his feet. Normally, he’d send one of his Dexters to answer the door. Not that anyone ever came to visit. But if something needed doing, the bots with hands were usually the best to send. “This I have to see for myself.”
An open platform responded to his directions and slid to the right fifty meters and then down two levels. The clear front bay doors surrounded by clear walls allowed a full spectrum of light into the interior of the building, while the tropical vegetation outside loomed like invaders waiting their chance to creep inside. Not yet, you herbaceous monsters. A shudder ran through Sal. When was the last time he went outdoors? Ten-fifteen years ago? He scratched his head. Didn’t matter. It was in the records somewhere. So long as he did his job and no one complained.
The feeling of pressing his feet to the floor with each step, projecting himself forward, maintaining his balance, brought on a dizzy spell. He had to grip the door handle tightly before he opened it wide enough to see the child clearly. “It is a child, after all. How remarkable. Having seen one of these in years.”
Only in conversations with himself had Sal kept his speaking skills, but his manners were a bit rusty. “Who are you? What do you want?”
The child, somewhere in middle childhood, not fully mature yet, but with perceptive eyes, considered him with a peculiar tilt of the head. “I was sent to learn my purpose.”
Rearing back, Sal wondered if someone was playing a joke on him. But no one left in the system had a sense of humor, and he couldn’t remember the last joke he had heard. It was a lost art. He didn’t have to pretend to look fierce. He knew that living well beyond his natural years with medical enhancements and technological implants hadn’t done his human physiology any favors. He had smashed the last mirror in the building years ago. Everything was years ago… I think.
He wagged his finger at the boy. “Your purpose? Your purpose is to serve. Everyone knows that! I mean, why are you here? I am the only human allowed to touch the monitors.”
Without asking leave, the boy squeezed past Sal and strode to the transportation platform. He stepped to the middle and stared at the other human. “Up or down? Right or left?”
“Up and fifty left.” Before the boy could go without him, Sal hopped onboard, spraining his ankle in the process. He wondered if he had broken it. Though his hand itched to rub it, Sal remained stiff as a crane in the lock position. Not giving him any reason to report me.
By the time they reached the top, and Sal had shown the child every last monitor, which the prodigy could name without hesitation, his suspicions had fully awakened to the danger that faced him. “I asked before, why are you here? Tell me now or I’ll-“
No hint of a smile, as the boy stared resolutely at the man. “You’ll what?”
In a moment, Sal’s small universe crumbled. He had no power, and soon he’d have no purpose. He swallowed a lump rising in his throat as he thought of all the people he had known who had faded into nonexistence. He had been surprised that universities were the first to accept the new order. But then that made sense. Who better to inculcate the inferior masses with the mantra, “Better Technology to Better Humanity?” Politicians and business leaders saw the sense in a cheaper, faster, and more efficient workforce. A few scientists tried to argue, but when they saw how much AI could achieve, they implemented new systems faster than anyone. Even artists adapted, using artificial creation in ways they said expressed as much creativity as paint and paper ever did. “Almost Art” became very popular. Soon, AI didn’t need humans for any part of the creative process; they could do it all by themselves, faster, cheaper, and more efficiently. Human artists were superfluous. Those who hung on for personal reasons died of starvation.
Sal shook his head as he watched the boy make himself comfortable in his chair. “What’s your name?”
“Sal.”
“It can’t be! That’s my name.”
Undisturbed, the boy scrolled through the monitors, manually checking the trouble detectors. “I’m your clone. So they named me Sal Two but said I didn’t have to remember the two. No one else would.”
“But I’m not done being Sal One! I still have purpose. Value. I have served here for the last…what? thirty years?”
“Twenty-eight point seven.”
“Whatever! I’m still number one!”
Number Two pulled a slim datacomp from a sleeve pocket and scrolled through. Then he held it up to Sal One. “You used to write poetry and post it online.”
A hot blush worked over Sal’s face. “When I was a foolish child and thought such things made sense. They didn’t, of course. Just a waste of time. Spotry bots do a much better job blending a mishmash of what’s been done before.” Gravity seemed to weigh extra heavy on his shoulders, and Sal wondered how long he could continue standing.
Sal Two read from his phone. “Scientists can prove that elephants exist in Africa even though I’ve never seen one. But I don’t need proof to believe. There are wonderous things in the universe and greater surprises than elephants.”
Stunned, Sal One gripped the edge of number five console. “What do you mean by that?”
“There aren’t many of us left, but I wanted to meet the man who wrote that.”
“So, you, by your own volition, have chosen to replace me?”
A shrug. “It was only a matter of time. You’re old and I am young. I will probably be the last.”
His throat choking off the oxygen he needed to speak, Sal could only gurgle his question, his heart straining to understand. “But what’s the point without humanity?”
The boy almost smiled. “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”
“Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.” ~Ralph Waldo EmersonA. K. Frailey Amazon Author Page
A. K. Frailey WebsiteA. K. Frailey Blog PageA. K. Frailey Author Interviews
Photo https://pixabay.com/photos/boy-child-kid-monochrome-face-8435344/
The post Human in an AI World first appeared on The Writings of A. K. Frailey.
August 22, 2025
New Sci-Fi Novels
New Sci-Fi Novels tackle tough topics. Try these relationship-saturated sci-fi novels within complex social structures, embedded with psychological dilemmas.
Newearth Progeny
Clare, a Newearth Human Services Detective, wants what her partner, Bala, already has: a loving family. Given the chance to keep her job, grow a baby in a scientifically advanced artificial womb, and forgo pregnancy complications, Clare accepts an alien scientist’s tempting offer. Now she can focus on the newest race on the planet, an ancient Neanderthal relative who sees humans as barbarians. Desperate mechanical men, bent on saving their race from extinction, find hope in the newest bio-technology. When two hybrid sons are born, they are offered wildly different life experiences, setting in motion a future that advanced beings worried about but no one in the universe could have predicted.
A Reading Guide will be published on June 26, 2026, but contact me if you would like one sooner.
EBOOK (Amazon)
PAPERBACK 979-8-9998241-0-3 (Amazon)
HARDCOVER 979-8-9998241-1-0 (Ingram Spark)
AUDIOBOOK (Amazon)
Newearth Relevance
On a mission to make a home for himself, Relevance, as Newearth’s first tribrid humanoid, founds LEAP Laboratories in partnership with an angry geneticist who harbors dystopian dreams. Together they populate the woodlands with sentient animals called Animans, but when their goals diverge, Relevance finds himself trying to stop the very operation he brought into being. Haunting childhood rejection hurls him into reckless actions and blinds him to the harm he does to others. When his patients suffer tragically, he searches for answers and discovers that a grim truth offers more hope than an alluring lie. As he faces the same consequences that his creators experienced, Relevance must rediscover his own humanity.
A Reading Guide will be published on June 26, 2026, but contact me if you would like one sooner.
EBOOK (Amazon)
PAPERBACK 979-8-9998241-2-7 (Amazon)
HARDCOVER 979-8-9998241-3-4 (Ingram Spark)
AUDIOBOOK (Amazon)
Photoshttps://pixabay.com/photos/twins-babies-newborn-boys-1628843/
https://pixabay.com/illustrations/ai-generated-fox-squirrel-squirrel-8477297/
https://pixabay.com/illustrations/ai-generated-library-books-tree-9033994/
The post New Sci-Fi Novels first appeared on The Writings of A. K. Frailey.
July 25, 2025
Reading Guides, Journal Reflections
Reading Guides, Journal Reflections make reading a more profitable experience. The powerful part of reading a good book is discovering a new facet of ourselves.
Study guides for each of my books, at three levels: elementary, secondary, and adult, are in development. Starting September 2025, they will be posted on the akfrailey.com blog on the fourth Friday of each month.
If you’d like a copy of a reading guide for one of my books at a specific level, please email me at akfrailey@yahoo.com.
Paperbacks as Journal Reflections
Have you ever used your paperback novel as a personal reflection journal? Highlighting, underlining, and taking notes in the margin may seem heretical to some, but interacting with a novel or inspirational book can offer insight into our own thoughts and emotional states. Better than having a conversation with the author, it means having a conversation with ourselves, which in turn, helps us have more honest, productive conversations with others.
Here are some helpful questions to garner insight while reading. Keep a pen, pencil, or highlighter close at hand just in case
Are they poorly written? Beautifully written?
Are they telling me something I need to hear? Or reminding me of something I’ve forgotten?
Are they frightening me? Why?
Consider strong emotional reactions to characters, scenes, and events.
Am I reminded of a repressed grief?
Do I need to work on processing something?
How can I best work through these emotions when I put the book aside?
What does the conflict in this story do to me?
Am I afraid it will never get resolved?
Are there unresolved conflicts in my life?
Do the characters’ emotions feel familiar?Do I feel less lonely because the characters understand what it is like to hurt or be misunderstood?Who are the people in my life who show me real compassion?
Do I feel empathy for others?
Is there anyone in the story that I admire? Why?
What qualities does he or she have that I wish I had?
Can I learn to be more like that?
Does an injustice in the story make me want to do something that I’m afraid to do in real life?If I see the unfairness in the story, do I identify it when it happens in real life? Do I stand up for myself the way I want to stand up for an abused character?
Who do I find dislikable or repugnant in the story?
Who do they remind me of in my life?
Have my disagreeable feelings been repressed or managed well?
What are the characters teaching me about dealing with challenging people?
If my life were a story, who would be the heroes?
The villains?
Sideline characters? Are there sideline people in real life?
Who might be the narrator?
Is there a hidden force in the story?
How do I identify the hidden forces in my life?
What do I really believe—just between me and the characters—when no one is watching?
Can I own my beliefs? Share them with someone?
What ugly characteristics do I fear I might share with the worst characters?What are the lovely qualities that I share with the best characters?
Like a dream, stories highlight our unconscious hidden selves and allow us to face our inner complexities.
The most powerful part of reading a good book is not meeting great characters but discovering a new facet of our true selves.
FREE PDF ReadingGuide.Paperbacks as Journal Reflections
FACEBOOK https://www.facebook.com/AnnKFrailey/
LINKEDIN https://www.linkedin.com/in/akfrailey/
GOODREADS https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4676216.A_K_Frailey
My Website: https://akfrailey.com/
My Blogs: https://akfrailey.com/blog/
My Author Interviews: https://akfrailey.com/author-interviews/
GOOD BOOKS NEED GOOD READERS Enlighten and Brighten our WorldAmazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/author/akfrailey
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The post Reading Guides, Journal Reflections first appeared on The Writings of A. K. Frailey.
July 18, 2025
A. K. Frailey Books’ Future
A. K. Frailey Books’ Future has never been brighter. 2025 offers new distribution channels, creative marketing opportunities, a new series, and Reading Guides. New publications are scheduled in the coming year. The excitement is building! New readers, kind reviewers, and shaping relationships through sincere, personal conversations make all the difference. Writing isn’t an isolated act. Each book is written anew in the mind of the reader. Read on!
New Distribution ChannelsEarlier this year, I moved six of my eBooks to Publish Drive, allowing them to enter streams that they hadn’t been able to reach in my KDP exclusive relationship with Amazon. Now, these books are reaching across the globe in new ways.
Promotions on KOBO, Apple Books, and OverDrive are connecting my books to interested readers.
In addition, the hardcover versions of my books have been moved over to Ingram Spark to reach out to bookstores and libraries on a whole new level. I have written to over one hundred libraries across the nation to personally introduce myself and my work. One thing I noticed right away was their preference for Ingram Spark hardcovers over Amazon hardcovers. I do not know why that bias exists, but I have tried to be accommodating to their needs by offering all my books as Ingram Spark hardcovers.
All my fiction work has already migrated with Encounter and OldEarth Mechior going live on August 1st and August 6th, respectively.
My nonfiction work: The Road Goes Ever On: A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings, My Road Goes Ever On: Spiritual Being, Human Journey, and My Road Goes Ever On: A Timeless Journey will join their hardcover cousins in late August.
In addition to my usual monthly blogs, newsletters, and social media announcements, I have started theme boards on A. K. Frailey Pinterest, which will envision the worlds my characters live in, their conflicts, and the inspiration we all need to keep going when challenges beset our minds and weigh down our souls.
A New SeriesMy newest series, OLDTOWN, just launched its first book into the readership world: OLDTOWN Fly, Sparrow, Fly. So far, it has received fantastic reviews that make the challenges of wrangling my characters onto the page worth the effort.
“A.K. Frailey’s Fly, Sparrow, Fly is a beautifully written story that takes readers on an emotional journey with a message both timely and timeless. Like in prior books, Frailey writes in a voice that feels both intimate and urgent as the book explores courage, loss, belonging, and quiet resilience through the eyes of a young girl navigating a world full of uncertainty and unexpected kindness. The crisp, lyrical writing delivers characters that are deeply human and stay with you long after you finish the final page. Both heartbreaking and uplifting, this is a story that reminds us of the power of connection and the quiet strength that can rise from even the darkest moments. A must-read for readers of all ages who believe in the redemptive power of story.” ~Craig Scalise
OLDTOWN Fly, Sparrow, Fly Amazon Link
Reading GuidesI am in the process of writing Reading Guides for each of my books on the appropriate Elementary, Secondary, and Adult levels, with the addition of Personal Journal Reflection questions for those who want to take their reading experience to a whole new level. Here are a few samples of what is coming. Two Reading Guides will be published on the 4th Friday of each month starting in September. Free PDFs of the Reading Guides and respective coloring sheets of the book covers are available on the blog.
Reading GuidesThe Adventures of Tally-Ho
Elementary
Who is your favorite character? Why? What makes him or her so great?
Does anyone do something you would like to try doing?
Secondary
If you were reading the story to a child, which character would you narrate most true to life? Why so?
Newearth Justine Awakens
Love relationships abound throughout Newearth Justine Awakens. What are a few that resonated with you? Why did they stand out? Were they reflecting relationships in real life or dreams of a particular kind of love relationship?
Paperbacks as Journal Reflections
Why did I have to read particular sections over again?
Are they poorly written? Beautifully written?
Are they telling me something I need to hear? Or reminding me of something I’ve forgotten?
Are they frightening me? Why?
Like a dream, stories highlight our unconscious hidden selves and allow us to face our inner complexities.
New Publications ScheduleDecember 1, 2025
(End of the Sci-Fi Newearth Series)
Newearth Progeny
Newearth Relevance
March 3, 2026
(Children’s Book)
Wise Home
July 1, 2026
(Short Story Collection)
Spice of Life and Other Stories
October 6, 2026
(Collection of Personal Reflections)
My Road Goes Ever On: Rise Again
December 1, 2026
(Second Book In the OLDTOWN Series)
OLDTOWN Brothers Born
March 3, 2027
(Children’s Book)
Wise Home on Lily Pad Pond
I am looking forward to our future together as we experience life through the lens of fiction and nonfiction.
The most powerful part of reading a good book is not meeting great characters but discovering a new facet of our true selves. A. K. Frailey’s Books Page A. K. Frailey’s Translated Books A. K Frailey’s Amazon Author PagePhoto https://pixabay.com/illustrations/books-library-interior-bookshelf-8351938/
The post A. K. Frailey Books’ Future first appeared on The Writings of A. K. Frailey.
