Owlsby in Autumn

FALL INTO AUTUMN, a town of the ambiguously human, where the wind is a breath of woodsmoke and apples, where the neighbors all gossip in tongues, and where fear is the only thing that keeps your soul from falling like so many dead leaves. Evin Owlsby is the only child of the richest and most prominent family in the strange, secluded town of Autumn. But his parents didn’t earn their status by being nice--Evin’s mom is shrewd and unforgiving; his dad, cold and unapproachable--and Evin’s biggest fear is that he’ll grow up to be just like them. When he meets The Phantom Lady Nightly, Evin makes a Faustian deal to save the ghost of a talking pirate toucan in exchange for his sense of fear. And now he suddenly has the courage to run away from all his troubles at home. But as he traipses through the town, brushing shoulders with the meanest of goblins and ghouls, he comes to realize that a lack of fear brings about its own kind of trouble--the kind one doesn’t always walk away from. Evin must rely on logic and wit to find his way back home and keep from becoming the next addition to The Phantom Lady Nightly’s menagerie of ghosts. Includes exclusive bonus story, the second installment of The Dreal Series: "The Dreal and the Goldscale Serpent."

From the Inside Flap

A MENAGERIE OF GHOSTS... "My fear?" Evin was puzzled. It seemed different than losing your teeth or hair or hearing or sight or memory. It hardly seemed a payment at all. "You mean I won't be afraid of things?" "Not of growing old, not of dark closets or monsters under the bed, not of cute girls or bullies in the halls--not of anything. I think you'll find it rather liberating." She said it with a certain pride, as if she had him pinned down like a moth in a case. "'Tis a gradual process. You will keep your memories fine, but over the next day or so your amygdala will grow dull--your terror organ will numb as insects in an icebox--and your fear will lessen until it is no more...

From the Back Cover

(AN EXCERPT: Anecdote on the sad demise of the luckiest man in the world) Cloven Road was more of a trail than a road, bowing around the northeast side of town, one of the few stretches of land not owned by his dad. Selfish as he was, Stingy Owlsby left the property alone out of respect for poor old Mr. O'Thewisp, a fellow entrepreneur and the closest thing to a friend he'd ever known. He was the rightful landowner, and though no one had seen his face in years, no one had proof of his passing either. In his prime Mr. O'Thewisp was a pillar of the community. He was a jolly, easy-going character, always with an ear to lend and a friendly word or two. When you met him for the first time it was usually, "Pleased ta meet ya! Call me Billy!" accompanied by a rainbow of a smile and an earthquake of a handshake. He got on well with the entire town until the tragedy. Evin was too young to have exchanged words with the man, but the stories were there. Little Billy grew up an avid hide-and-seeker. He ran kids in circles on the off chance they found him. He was quick and nimble and good at every game there was. On the playground he would have been first pick every time, except that he was picker every time. As he grew up he found that his people skills, topped off with his likable smile and charming Irish wink, made him the perfect door-to-door salesman. He was neighborly. He walked the streets in buckle shoes and white stockings, short britches with green suspenders, and a four leaf clover in his hat that stood up so straight you would have thought it was planted there if you didn't know it was his luck to pick a fresh one every morning. He could sell anything, and he did. Rattraps, broom handles, microwaves, coal, trapeze sets, dowsing rods--anything. Folks were glad to take them off his hands, and besides making huge piles of money which he invested in gold, he made a handful of lifelong friendships. As if to sum up just how much joy he spread and how pleased the townsfolk were to have him around (and vice-versa), there appeared in the sky directly over Autumn, right out of the blue one unseasonably warm day, a full-size, bonafide Roy G. Biv rainbow. And it stuck around day after day, month after month, year after year, parading its colors, rain or shine (or any combination of the two), for all to enjoy. Billy worked well into his golden years, and though people eagerly awaited his visits, preparing baked goods and setting out coffee or tea in their finest china, they often asked, "How do you do it, Billy? Still make the rounds at your age?" "Fer me, work isn't work atall," he winked, taking a sip of ginger lemon tea and spreading out his catalogue. "Now, look how squeaky clean tese dishes are! Fancy you've done worn yer kitchen sponge ta tatters. Have a gander at tese soaker-uppers. Oh, and gloves to keep yer hands so milky soft!" There came a time, however, when he simply didn't have the strength to get out of the house every day as he had before. People came to visit him instead, and he told them, "Lying here in bed... now tis is hard work!" He was explaining why to a group of curious young high schoolers when they began to interrupt him with questions, one of which was: "How did you make that rainbow appear?" "I'd be pleased to tell ya!" he replied, his friendly, upbeat lilt returning for an encore. "Ya see, tis merely a trick of the light. A little something I set up, kinda like a yard decoration for a really big yard. Tis the gold what does it. Back when I was yer age..." He got a good piece into his story before he trailed off and conked out mid-sentence. When he started sawing off snores with a rip saw the kids went around back and made off with his pot of gold. Who was Billy O'Thewisp to them? Just some bedridden old man who might have been a decent enough person way back when, might have even been their friend once, a million years ago. They didn't care. Billy didn't wake up. And with the gold gone, there was nothing left to hold up the rainbow. The glimmering arch toppled down and smashed into the earth, barely missing the houses but taking a decent slice out of the forest. It cut a line through the trees clean as a scythe does wheat. You wouldn't think a rainbow weighs all that much but it was enough to dent the ground when it hit. The lumber was foraged for new housing and in the process the rut turned into a thoroughfare. Folks thought about naming it after Billy as a memorial, but "Cloven Road" just seemed to stick. It was better that way since no one could solve the mystery of where his body went, and if he was really dead at all. "Disappeared with the rainbow," some said. "Skipped town," said others. And still more said he never left but was, "Hiding out, and when no one's around, he scours for four leaf clovers where once there used to grow swaths of 'em."

About the Author

After moving from Kentucky bluegrass to the deserts of Arizona, Nathan Oser has found a home with his family on the Japanese oceanside where he spends his days exploring the cuisine, restringing his shredded guitars, sketching the scenery, and scribbling out stories. Visit him at nathanoser.com for more yarns and doodles or say hello on social media @natetonight.

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