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Author Kit

  1. 1. Yolanda Jackson2114 W Jefferson StRockford,Il 61101815-963-7324815-963-5676viviyjackson@aol.comhttp://www.YolandaJackson.comPETER CARROT TOPIN SEARCHOF THE 8Th KEYbyYolanda JacksonPublisher
  2. 2. Book Release: December 2, 2008ISBN 9781598249675In search of the 8th Key is the first in a series of PeterCarrot-Top fantasy novels for children and Young Adults. The books take itsreadersinto the fantasy land of Baja where only human ghosts can survive. Ayoung boy by the name of Peter Carrot-top is called upon by theRulers of Baja who awaken from hibernation to find that their land isbeing attacked by wizards of the forest and their leagues ofextraordinary monsters.Like all children in Baja, Peter is born with a great power – his poweris the ability to create black holes that lead to many unknown worldsand far away galaxies. Peter and his friends, who attend the greatWaldorf Academy, must combine their powers to save the people ofthe Land of Baja and its great mystical powers. Read as Petersadventures carry him across the great land as he battles againstmagical card throwers and twenty-footed monsters to save his familyand the people of Baja from the evil spells of the dastardly wizards.
  3. 3. My name is Yolanda A. Jackson, born on April 3, 1980 in Rockford,IL. I have been writing from the age of twelve, mostly Fantasy andSci-Fi, but my writing skills go way beyond the norm into Horror andAnimation. I first developed my talent as a writer when I complainedabout Robocop needing more action, but my friends loved it. Theydared me to come up with a movie better than Robocop - and I did!My first book/script was Copper Kid, it was about a computerprogram robot girl who fights crime with jet-propelled wings and acomputer brain. It was just great; well at least I thought so. Finally Igot them to read it and lo and behold they loved it, and that was whenI first knew maybe I had something.As the years passed I started to hate school - it was not the place forme. I began to daydream about being a big movie director andowning my own studio. It never happened and I finished school, but Ihated everything but English class and writing assignments which ledme to my first novel September Monkies, hand written, which I still
  4. 4. have to this day. No one believed in my dreams, and consequentlythey swept aside as I went through this wonderful stage calledgrowing up.Peter Carrot-Top: In Search of the 8th Key by Yolanda Jackson © 2008I was a foster child my entire life - a ward of the State - and writingeased the pain of moving from one foster home to another or onegroup home to another. Every time I moved I tried to write a novel tohelp me cope with my new home, and because of this I became moreinvolved in my writing, I began to imagine places that only exist infantasy or animals that only inhabit ones imagination. Soon, thisstimulated my brain and freed me to face reality and to know whennot to face reality. While my friends were all dating and into boys, Iwas into creative writing, imagining fantastic creatures that dontexist, or developing characters to which everyone in the world canrelate.At the age of seventeen the Department of Children and FamilyServices let me go and I was out into the real world on my own.Thats when I realized that my dreams of writing would have to take aback seat to earning a living. The bills came first, and a roof over myhead was more important than what seemed like just a dumb dream.It hurt to let my dreams slip away, but I had no choice. It was eitherwork three jobs to get the bills paid or live in a fantasy land where theFairy God Mother pays the bills, and it did not take me long torealized that the Fairy God Mother did not exist. All the money I hadfor publishing was now used for survival, I threw my dreams aside toplay the game of life. After years of working three jobs, I got tired anddecided to give my dreams one more shot. I got a better job as aSterile Tech in a trauma hospital and began making a little moremoney, so I saved and saved and finally had had enough to selfpublish which has been a wonderful learning experience.I have published my first novel in a series - Peter Carrot-top "InSearch Of the 8th Key. My goal in writing is to not only improve myskills, but to get children of the world interested in reading and writing,to see the story unfolding in their minds, and to use their imaginationsto dream and to dream big.
  5. 5. Chapter 1Meet the Carrot-TopsA long, long time ago, in the year 1850, there was a man by the name ofSam Carrot-Top. He was a well educated man, slender in build and alwayswearing a dusty old cap that covered his orange hair and broken glasses.He was an honest and wealthy man, but you would never guess that he andhis family were well off; he never showed his wealth or bragged about it. Heused his money to help the poor and needy.His wife, Jane, was oh so beautiful with lush red hair, a petite figure, andsmooth, creamy pale skin. She loved all the children in the neighborhood,always fixing a broken heart or a scraped knee. She was the perfect housewife, the kind any man could want.They lived in a small town in Georgia called Valdosta. Sam and Jane werethe talk of the town; they grew the largest vegetables and fruits the eyeshave ever seen. Their watermelons were the size of houses and carrots aslong as 20 feet!All the neighbors began to whisper and became jealous of the success ofthe Carrot-Tops, farmers came from near and far to see the great Carrot-Top plantation. Because of the popularity of their fruits and vegetables,they became a household name. Merchants came from all over the world tobuy their fruits and vegetables.Some of the other farmers became extremely jealous of the success of theCarrot-Tops. They tried to sabotage their land, either by overflowing it withgarbage or water, but it never worked. The fruits and vegetables kept ongrowing and growing. Some were so tall that their leaves touch the clouds.Nevertheless, Sam and Jane ignored their rivals and continued to be goodneighbors.Their pride and joy was their son and only child, Peter Carrot-Top, a 10-
  6. 6. year-old boy who was and skinny as a bean pole with bright orange hairand deep freckles on his face. He wore the same old clothing over and overagain, brown khaki pants and a rainbow-colored shirt with two differentcolored shirt sleeves.Peter was teased by all the kids. Not only was his hair funny, but his name,Peter Carrot-Top, was as well. The kids teased him all day. Every day it wasthe same thing, kids singing,"Peter Carrot-Top, Peter Carrot-Top," in anannoying and devilish tone.Peter was sick of it. Unfortunately, every time he got upset, his head wouldswell up like a big orange balloon and his orange hair would gently standup at attention. This made the kids laugh even harder.Peter was all alone in a world he didnt understand or fit in. There wasnothing the principal or the teachers could do. Peter was just a special boy.His mother and father were hurt the most; Peter got the orange hair fromhis father, and the freckles from his mother.Peters parents went to the school regularly to seek help for their son. Justa poor farmer, Peters father did not know what to do. He would pace theschool hall as he talked to the dean of the school asking for help for hisson, but Mr. Snicker, the dean of the school, just walked around with his fatgut stuck out and only made the Carrot-Tops feel worse by telling themtheir child needed to be placed in a special school.Peters father slammed down his hat in frustration as the dean sat back inhis leather chair, smoking his cigar with an smirk on his face. Mr. Snickershouted to Peters father, "Boy, calm down before I have you thrown out onyour ears!"Peters father grabbed up his hat, took his wife by the hand and stormedinto Peters English class. "Peter, get your things. Were taking you out ofthis school!" By the look on his fathers face, Peter knew that his dad wasvery upset. All Peters mother could do was cry and sob as they walked outthe doors. The kids began to laugh, and once again, Peter felt distant analone.Peter and his family jumped into their wagon, and off they went. Petercould see the concentration on his fathers face and the sadness in hismothers eyes. Peter began to tell his parents how very sorry he was, but agentle touch on the hands from his mother let Peter know it was all right.Peter laid back inPeter Carrot-Top: In Search of the 8th Key by Yolanda Jackson © 2008 My second Novel is Imaginary Friends
  7. 7. ISBN 978608620173publisher www.e-booktime.compublishing date 03/02/2009Everyone has or had an Imaginary Friend in their lives one time or another,But what did yours tellyou to do? Does yours tell you to cheat,kill,or destroy? or do they simply talk to you at night?Many are affarid to answer these questions, but if one choose to ignore them, sometimes they canbecome so real,They will surely over power your mind and every rational thought you ever had; sotake sometime to investigate the voices that are talking to you, the longer you ignore them, thestronger they will become.Take a look into the life of a small town girl who was constantly abuse by her mother and completestrangers,she was hid away from the public by her mother in an old cellar, it was there that she firstdiscovered her ability to create Imaginary friends,And once the Imaginary Friends where formed shesend them all out on a revenge killing,But was it the Imaginary Friends doing the killing or her? Chapter 1Everyone had or has imaginary friends; what do yours tell you to do? Well, I’ll tell you about my friends. Back inthe 1980s, I was living the worthless life of an abused child, one that society doesn’t care about. I was what they
  8. 8. called poor white trash; my father was nowhere around and my mother was a whore and drug addict. Every nightshe would bring different men into the house, hoping to score enough money for a hit, and most of the time shewould sell me to them. I was raped, beaten and molested, but she didn’t care; my innocence was making herrich. Instead of the men asking for her, they’d asked for me. Yes, I tried to fight back, but the men were toostrong for me. I called out for my mother, but she ignored my pleas; she sat in the room and smoked her cocaineas the men had their way with me. She never came to check on me; she didn’t know if I was alive or dead beforeshe set up another john. I begged her not to sell me anymore, but she didn’t care, that cocaine was moreimportant to her than I was. While the men were having their way with me; I began to blackout and go into a world that I called myown. I had to step out of reality in order to keep the little bit of life I had left in me. When my mother saw thatselling me was a great idea, the best thing that had ever happened to her, she continued to do it more and more.I tried to run away, but was always caught. My mother began to lock me in the old cellar; it was damp andcreepy, there was no light, no windows and every day was the same as night. I was afraid, I began to scream;the dark frightened me so terribly that I would wet my pants. No matter how often I wanted to stop from going tothe bathroom on myself, I couldn’t. The fear was so deep; I could feel it in my bones. I begged my mother that Iwould do whatever she wanted, that I would be a good girl, but she never answered me; she left me in thebasement for days, weeks, months. The men would come down with a kerosene lamp and do their business with me. I got so sick of theabuse and the rapes that I began to talk to myself. I was trying to convince myself that it would be okay, that oneday my mother would love me and make everything all right, but that day never came. I waited patiently; I closedmy eyes and prayed for a miracle, and yet the miracle never came, it was always ‘in the works’. I sat in the corner of the dark, damp cold cellar, crying my eyes out, wanting to be set free, wanting to beback upstairs with my mother. I was so afraid that I began to make up imaginary friends, a group of people thatwould love and protect me, a group of friends that would never let anything happened to me. As I sat there, thefirst friend I created was Johnny. He was a white guy with really blonde hair; dressed like a cowboy and alwaystoted a gun in each of his holsters. Johnny was a cool cat that always told jokes, very sarcastic ones, andsmoked the hell out of some cigarettes; he loved Marlboros. Even though it was dark, I could still see thecreation of my friend in my mind, and I would stare into his blue eyes, like a damsel in distress, and hope thatJohnny would save me. Then my little fantasy would be over, and I’d come back to reality. But, when the memories of the rapesand abuse got to be too much for me to handle, I’d make Johnny appear in my mind to help me and then he’ddisappear. Until one day, or night, I never could tell because I was locked in the fucking cold dark cellar, sittingthere fully awake, I began to smell cigarette smoke! At first I thought I was still in my fantasy world, but I wasn’t; Iremembered waking myself from my fantasy. Then I got scared; could Johnny really be alive? Could I have the
  9. 9. power to raise my thoughts from the dead? Could my fantasy come to life? Well, it did! While sitting in the corner, I could feel the soft clouds of smoke grace my face, and from adistance I could see a red light in the background. I was afraid and began to move around in the dark, trying tomake my imaginary friend go away. I covered my eyes with my hands; when suddenly I felt a soft touch pull myhair. I was so afraid to turn around; I kept my eyes closed and counted to ten, hoping that whatever I had createdwould go away. But it didn’t; it came closer and closer, until I was forced to open my eyes. I screamed as I saw this figment of my imagination come to life. I screamed and screamed, but no onecould hear me; there was a party going on upstairs and the music was too loud. I screamed so much that I lostmy voice, and Johnny just stood in the corner, smoking his cigarettes, laughing at me. "Dude, chill out," he said. But, I was in a state of shock; I had just been fucking scared shitless because my imagination had cometo life, and this shit was scary. It took hours for me to calm down, but when I did, Johnny was still standing in thecorner, only this time he was playing with his gun, twirling and spinning it around his fingers like a toy. He glowedin the dark and I got a better look at his face; he was perfect, just like I had created him, but his blue eyesglowed a faint red and that was disturbing. Nevertheless, I was happy to know that I had a friend to be with meand chase out the bad guys. Johnny pulled out a deck of old cards, I could tell that they had been used before,from the wear on the back of the cards, and in the light of his glow, we played go fish and memory match. Johnny always let me win; he was the perfect man, he was the father I could only dream of having. Hewas also a great storyteller; he told me of back in the old days how he used to rob banks and could outrun thesheriff of the town, and of days spent sleeping on the open range and getting run off the land by the owners.These stories, to me, were very comforting and relaxing. For the first time in months, I was able to fall off asleepwithout a care in the world; for the first time I was not afraid to sleep alone, the cellar never frightened meanymore. Johnny was here to save me and protect me from all the evil men that had hurt me. I could see him pacing the floor at night, he was talking with someone, but I couldn’t see who that was. Ididn’t care, I was happy to have peace of mind and my own bodyguard, but I was concerned that Johnny wastalking to someone or something, and whatever it was, it was a heated conversation. All I could see wereJohnny’s lips moving and he kept looking back over his shoulder at me. I overlooked his mischievous ways andbegan to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time I could close my eyes without the fear of finding astrange man on top of me. With Johnny there, I was completely safe, nothing could hurt me ever again. Johnnywas my hero, he was always there, but seemed occupied, as if something else required his attention. But, I
  10. 10. didn’t mind, as long as I got peace and quiet. Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming down the cellar stairs. A voice shouted out, "You little bitch, whereare you? Come and play with daddy." I quickly ran behind Johnny to protect me and he didn’t let me down. Out of the darkness, Johnny approached the john and said, "Now, thats no way to treat a young lady." For a minute, I didn’t think that the two would be able to see each other; after all, Johnny was just myimagination. But, something strange happened, they could both see each other, and the john became veryafraid. "Who the hell are you? I paid for her first," shouted the john at Johnny. "Well, I’m her new best friend; and your worst nightmare," said Johnny. The john pushed Johnny out of the way and headed toward me, groping my chest and private parts. Outof the blue, Johnny began to shoot his gun at the john over and over again; it seemed like Johnny was nevergoing to stop. Finally, I went over and prevented him from putting another bullet in the john. At first, I was a littleterrified, but it served that john right; I was young enough to be his daughter and he was paying my mother tosell me to him. From the glow off of Johnny, I could see the blood splatters all over the cellar walls, I could seethe guy’s head full of bullet holes and his eyes rolled back and facing the heavens. For once in my life, I felt so powerful and unafraid. Johnny loved it too, he began to kiss and caress hisgun; then he took his old handkerchief and wiped the bloodstains off. Johnny wanted to do it again, he wanted tokill, he loved the idea of killing. I told him that we had get to the top of the stairs and escape, but he seemedreluctant to go up there. I let him know that it would be all right; then he confided in me that when grown ups arearound; kids tend to forget about their imaginary friends. I said, "Oh no, not me I’d never forget about you, I love you!" Johnny just smiled, giving me a soft peek on the cheek and held my hands; his eyes began to turn redagain, and although it frightened me, I pretended it didn’t exist because I wanted him around, the first man in mylife that never wanted anything from me. Johnny was the perfect gentleman and I was willing to overlook hisfaults. My gut was telling me that something was wrong, but for whatever reason I ignored my gut feeling andbegan to enjoy the pleasure of revenge. Before we went upstairs, Johnny told me that we had to get at least four more friends. He let me knowthat I had the power to conjure up anything I wanted, and in order for me to be totally safe I had to kill all of thoseevil people upstairs, and all throughout the world. At first it didn’t sound right, especially when his eyes began to
  11. 11. glow red again. When Johnny saw me thinking too hard, he reminded me how he had protected me, and how if Ihad many more imaginary friends I could be protected for life. The offer sounded good, and I jumped on board;besides what could go wrong with just a few more imaginary friends? Not only would I be safe, but I could helpother abused children that were in the same situation. So, for about an hour, I conjured up images of the perfectfriends that I’d want to save and protect me. First, I closed my eyes and said, "Samson, come forward." And, he did. I could hear his huge footsteps in the background. I slowly opened my eyes, and saw myimagination come to live. Samson was a huge black gorilla, at least nine feet tall and over a ton. He had thebiggest brown eyes, and his coat was so soft; I just ran up and hugged him tightly. At first, he didn’t move ormake any loving motions toward me, but then Johnny spoke up. "Yo, Samson, you big ape, give the little girl a hug." Suddenly Samson warmed up and hugged me with his huge paw-like hands. That was the softest coat Ihad ever felt. But, as I was excited to meet another one of my imaginary friends, Johnny was pushing me tomake more. He kept on telling me, "We need at least two more." So, then I conjured up Emily. She was very spooky, her skin was a pale ashen color, and she looked asif she’d been dead for years! She was really skinny and limber, the same age as I was, but she was a little shy;her long black hair covered one side of her face. I finally built up enough nerve to approach her. I called out, "Emily!"
  12. 12. My 3rd novel is The prince and the Robot.This novel is about a spoil prince Name Harry who was taken under the wings of a Wizard nameWhisker. Wisker used the Prince as rasom aganist his father King Authur, hoping that the kingwill stop ruling with an iron fist aganist his people and many lands,but the plan back fired andthe king invaded the land of the Bots where whisker was hiding the prince.As the war took place between king authur and the bots Prince Harry became friends with onespecial bot named rozetta,ofcourse the king did not agree with this and kill his son by hissword,Whisker the wizard brought the Prince back to life with a drop of his wizards blood,Butnow that prince Harry had the blood and the powers of a Wizards will he choose to fight onthe side of his father or on the side of whisker and the botsThe prince and the Robot has not been released yet,but will soon come to market in 2009..