Win a Signed Copy of Joseph Carrabis’ Empty Sky!

The Simple:

  1. You must have read one of Joseph’s stories
  2. Write up a one to two paragraph description of the story(ies)
  3. Send it to us using the Send Us Your Description link below

The Details:
Tales Told 'Round Celestial CampfiresTales Told ‘Round Celestial Campfires readers are writing wonderful comments about it:

I’m reading Joseph Carrabis’ Celestial Campfires and really enjoying it so far…it’s the kind of fantasy short stories that pull you into wonderland and welcome you there with open arms, although there might be something else behind their smiles. It reminds me of the old sci-fi and fantasy that I grew up reading, the books Dad would pass to me after he finished reading them (we shared a love for good science fiction and fantasy from as far back as I can remember)

A Unique Book from a Great Writer – Joseph is an amazing seer of the world about him and great teller of tales…

Engaging, vivid, unexpected, and amazing. – Engaging stories, vivid imagery and enjoyably unexpected narratives, Best of all, these amazing tales are wrapped up in a healthy dose of enlightenment (if you’re paying attention),…

A sense of déjà vu yet you don’t know why. – These stories bring you to another place and then become a part of you.

Joseph is able to hold up a mirror to other people’s experiences through his writing, letting them find themselves within the pages of his book. His short stories may be works of fiction, but they are nothing short of deeply human.

For fans of the band Tool and the writing of Joseph Campbell, Gene Wolfe, and Ursula K. LeGuin – For those who want to be inspired, for those who are on the path, and for those who just enjoy entertaining, well-written stories. Reach For Your Dreams Openly and Innocently! Very highly recommended.

Some readers have blessed us with descriptions of some of the stories and we’re using them on Amazon, Goodreads, Facebook and in our blogs!

Those Wings Which Tire, They Have Upheld Me: A Tale Told 'Round Celestial CampfiresJoseph Della Rosa read The Goatmen of Aguirra and wrote this amazing, moving description:

Leaving behind his estranged wife and son, Gordon Banks – a Xenopologist – sets out with an advance team on a mission to explore the distant planet Aguirra. There, the team discovers the Goatmen: wise aboriginals with a rich telekinetic history preserved through entheogenic ritual. Nicknamed “Journeyer” by the Goatmen, Gordon Banks is invited to their village to live amongst them and participate in their customs. He soon realizes that the Goatmen are not the only intelligent life form on Aguirra and – in the process – embarks on a path of self-discovery. Set against the backdrop of interstellar colonialism, The Goatmen of Aguirra proposes that one’s destiny can be achieved on a path taken to avoid it.

Mani He: A Tale Told 'Round Celestial CampfiresCadence Bambenek wrote two descriptions, one for Mani He

Nearing the peak of his career, a man starts seeing things. After his own big promotion displaces his colleague, he attempts to quiet his guilt by holding onto his personal profit and gain. But it’s not enough. His visions intensify until he is transported to another world where he is forced to question the values of his current way of life. Through the guidance of nature and several of its inhabitants, the man learns that some of the worst animals can take on human forms and that a position of power is simply that, a position of power. It is up to the individual to determine its ultimate allocation.

Those Wings Which Tire, They Have Upheld Me: A Tale Told 'Round Celestial Campfiresand this one for Those Wings Which Tire, They Have Upheld Me:

After developing limited vision, a young boy is forced to wear a strange contraption on his head to replace his eyes. At school, all of the other children make fun of him but for one other boy. Together, the two become fast friends, learning in tandem from a mysterious Angel who appears only to the boy with no eyes. Angel serves as their mentor, offering a space for the children to learn and grow in a way neither home nor school could provide. But soon, the Angel begins to fade and the children are forced to cope with, yet honor, an irreplaceable loss.

Empty SkyAnd this is how you can win a copy of Joseph’s first fiction novel, Empty Sky

  1. You must have read one of Joseph’s stories
  2. Write up a one to two paragraph description of the story(ies)
  3. Send it to us using Send Us Your Description link below

Authors of descriptions we choose to use will have their description and name on that story’s Amazon page, on Joseph’s GoodReads and Facebook pages, in several blogs AND get a signed copy of Joseph’s novel Empty Sky.

“Honorable mention” descriptions get everything above except the autographed copy of Joseph’s next book. Maybe. We tend towards generosity when we’re impressed.

Come on, folks! Go for it! Send us your description!


You can follow me on Twitter. I don’t twit often but when I do, it’s with gusto!


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TALES TOLD ‘ROUND CELESTIAL CAMPFIRES

Tales Told 'Round Celestial Campfires by Joseph CarrabisFor those of you who either didn’t know or forgot, I use to write fiction. According to my editors and readers, I was quite good at it.

Your writing is very moving. Tears came to my eyes when I read the last page of Dancers.

You have such wonderful imagery!

WOW! What beauty! I was completely hooked before I finished the first story.

You take readers on such wonderful journeys and your writing contains such wonderful lessons.

These stories have the flavor of an old sea tale, or something told around a campfire late at night. You have a wonderful distinctive voice.


After 20 years, I’ve decided to get back in the game. My first work of published fiction is Tales Told ‘Round Celestial Campfires and you should all go purchase copies for yourself, everyone you care about, people you know intimately or just in passing, especially those you’ve either linked to or friended and have basically forgotten exist. Sharing your sense of wonder over Tales Told ‘Round Celestial Campfires is a phenomenal way to get back in touch. Imagine the joy you’ll spread when you reach out to all those relationships both remembered and forgotten with “I’ve just heard about this amazing book, Tales Told ‘Round Celestial Campfires, and it’s a must read!”

Your writing has a tenderness most men can’t master.

Wow! Terrific! Beautiful storytelling!

Your stories show the power of love.

Extremely powerful storytelling!

Tales Told ‘Round Celestial Campfires contains fourteen stories. Most are love stories. Not romances, just love. Love in the form of acceptance. Acceptance of yourself, of others, of situations. Self-awareness is also a big theme with me. Even when self-awareness is painful or catches one unawares.

I love the way the reader gradually realizes what it is with your stories, and I love what it is.

I loved the feel, the tone of your writing – it is very sensitive, ethereal.

You’re a writer of genuine feeling.

Wonderful, entertaining and teaching. Amazing!

I really get the sense that I’m sitting down, listening to a storyteller weave the pattern of a story. That’s really neat. It’s a real pleasure to read your stories just for the beauty of the words.

Here are the first pages from four of the stories to give you an idea:

Dancers in the Eye of Chronos

Dancers in the Eye of ChronosHyphi and Gal parade onto the great hall’s floor, he half a pace ahead, she half a pace behind, their legs moving like a cat’s caught in headlights while their torsos remain straight and even. They pass the crowd among applause and hurrahs then pass the judges. Eyes focus on their clothes as well as their steps and the DJ looks to the judges for his cue. In mid-stride, the great hall rumbles as the DJ’s turntables engage.

Hyphi and Gal rumba. Gal wears a tasteful nuevo-Italian suit. Triple pleated frost brown pants with matching European cut jacket – no vent – brightly mottled red-and-yellow-on-black wide tie with double Windsor knot, ballooned creme shirt, pocketless, white gold with diamond eye studs, brown rattaned alligator Freeds – no Capezios here – frost brown silks, slightly darker than the pants and lighter than the shoes, easing the transition from one to the other. Tall. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, legs like tapered pillars and arms strongly anguine like boas, his hands and fingers long and graceful. His hair is salt&pepper, the salt like snow and the pepper like star studded night. His eyes are cyan iris against white orb like the sky seen through a cloud at sixty thousand feet. His skin is olive smooth, colored by a heredity so obvious it can’t be placed.

Hyphi’s head comes to just under his chin. Perfect for slow dancing. Perfect for sow dancing. Pale blue, three-ringed ruffle waisted skirt, line-thin lime green hip hugger belt, tight bodiced lime green blouse, ribbed and expanding beneath the breasts, showing the shoulders, white gold Bubo with emerald diamond eyes and hematite beak, tiny, clutching her throat on a slivered black band, finely silked scarf hinting at slipping from her softly muscled shoulders, pale earth tones of calmly pale earth scenes, dryads and naiads hiding and peeking as the scarf folds and unfolds to her dance, unnaturally natural blonde hair, eyes like his and skin the same, slightly lighter, yet the same. He smells of oceans and she smells of mists.

Those Wings Which Tire, They Have Upheld Me

Those Wings Which Tire, They Have Upheld MeCowan was walking in the woods the first time he saw Angel. He was really looking for a haunted house the real estate lady told his parents was back there and he’d walked further into the woods than he’d ever gone before.

There was an inch of snow on the ground except where the sun came through the trees for most of the day. In those places the ground was muddy. Cowan felt the crisping of the snow under his boot and looked at his footprints, trying to remember what they really looked like when he could really see them.

He took off the wrap-around sunglasses he wore to hide the holes where his eyes had been, thinking maybe the sunglasses stopped what he used to see from getting through. He still smelled the woodiness of the trees, still felt the cool air on his face and his breath misting as he exhaled. His breath didn’t look right, though. That was because of the Cap.

Dr. Hargitay said the Cap was best at least until they were sure the cancer didn’t come back. After that, Dr. Hargitay told Cowan’s parents, maybe they could transplant.

But until then it was the Cap. Cowan felt funny wearing the Cap. It itched.

Cowan’s family moved closer to the hospital that previous winter. Mom and Dad wanted to be with him more and this was the only way to do it. Cowan knew there were lots of other kids whose parents had moved closer to the hospital, but few of those kids ever came out.

He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

When Cowan showed up in his new school after Spring vacation, Kevin, who wasn’t even in his class and had stayed back twice, followed Cowan all over the playground, just walking behind him and sing-songing “I can’t See, I can’t See” until Cowan ran back into the school. Ms. Flanders heard him in the boysroom and sent in Mr. Horly, the janitor, to see if everything was okay.

Canis Major

Canis MajorIggie dropped from the tree onto the fawn, his weight breaking its two hind legs. It tried to run anyway but its forelegs only clawed up the moist, dark forest floor, clouding Iggie’s thoughts as the rich earth aroma wafted into him. Iggie didn’t want the animal to suffer and bit into its throat, tearing out esophagus, jugular and various muscles. Still the fawn tried to escape. Iggie grew nauseous by the mix of his needs and the fawn’s attempts to break free. This wasn’t what he wanted. His father had told and taught him to make his kills quick and clean, to spare creatures any pain. Iggie curled one forepaw into a fist and punched through the fawn’s ribs, crushing the heart. The fawn stopped moving and Iggie, gazing up at the dark, star filled sky, let the blood trickle down his muzzle, dribble into his nostrils, and cover his fur from flews to belly as he dined.

TALL, HANDSOME, good build, good humor, able to stand on a rocking ship with my hands at my sides. Brown hair, brown eyes, black beard, white skin. Have been mistaken for a brown bear when I bathe in mountain streams, well educated (past 6th grade), still have all my teeth but not all my marbles. Looking for a well-rounded, buxom woman. Buxom men need not respond. Applicants should know by this that brains are more important than brawn. Dinners, dancing, demitasse, and dramamine. Send resume and salary history.

The ad sat on Iggie’s desk for two months. The first month he’d written it by hand and crossed out several portions. The second month he’d typed it into his computer, made several more edits, and returned to the forest.

He stared at the screen for some twenty minutes this time, ran the spelling checker over it four times, read the ad backwards to check for additional misspellings, and printed it out.

Winter Winds

Winter WindsIt occurred to me, as I sat watching, that the scene was not as it should be. The winds played oddly on the landscape, and even the patterns of the falling snow were different. However, it wasn’t until I turned off the floodlights, which are white, and turned on the ground lights, which are pink, that the entire scene was revealed to me.

You must remember that this was a very typical wintry night. The snow was falling in one of the worst – or best, according to my son – blizzards of the decade. But it was one of the heaviest snowfalls in the century, according to the weather service.

Anyway, my son and I stood by the glass doors that led to the backyard patio. we were watching the snow fall. He and I talked about skiing and sledding and tobogganing – I from memory and he from anticipation. As we talked, he pointed to something out in the field. We looked, but I couldn’t see anything. He wasn’t sure that he had seen anything, either, so we went back to a discussion of which broom to use to sweep off the pond.

We fell silent then, the late-night stillness of the house being interrupted only by the slurps of hot cider. We had pulled my big lounge chair around so that we could be comfortable. Suddenly David leapt to his feet and pointed out to the field. “Dad! Dad, look! What is that?”

His excitement startled me, and I jumped up from the lounge chair, nearly spilling my hot cider. I rubbed my eyes and looked. Then I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Something was moving out there on the field. Something…

“What is it, Dad?”

My first reaction was to take off my glasses and clean them. When I put them back on I saw the same basic picture. Only now the form – whatever it was – had moved farther across the field. “I’m not sure, Dave.” That was an understatement.


So please take a few moments to a) go get a copy of the book or Dancers in the Eye of Chronos and Those Wings Which Tire, They Have Upheld Me and b) tell all your friends about them. Link to this page, to my Amazon page, put it on Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Youtube and all the other social networks you’re on.

It’s appreciated.

Thanks.

Find me on Find Joseph on Amazon and Find Joseph on Goodreads (and write good things!).


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