Author Helen C. Johannes lives in the Midwest with her husband and grown children. Growing up, she read fairy tales, Tolkien, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Agatha Christie, Shakespeare, and Ayn Rand, an unusual mix that undoubtedly explains why the themes, characters, and locales in her writing play out in tales of love and adventure. A member of Romance Writers of America, she credits the friends she has made and the critiques she’s received from her chapter members for encouraging her to achieve her dream of publication. When not working on her next writing project, she teaches English, reads all kinds of fiction, enjoys walks, and travels as often as possible.
Johannes, UW-Marshfield/Wood County Senior Lecturer in English, has won the 2011 EPIC Award for Fantasy Romance for her novel, THE PRINCE OF VAL-FEYRIDGE, published by The Wild Rose Press. The book, which is her first novel, is available in both print ($16.99) and electronic ($7.00) versions from www.thewildrosepress.com, www.amazon.com, and www.barnesandnoble.com and locally from Book World, Marshfield, WI. Sponsored by EPIC, the Electronically Published Internet Coalition, EPIC eBook Awards (formally EPPIES) have been given annually since 2000 to recognize outstanding achievement in e-publishing. Books eligible for this award include books published in 2010 only in electronic format as well as books published in both print and e-format.
In addition, Johannes’ book has recently been named a finalist in the Fantasy category of the 14th Annual PRISM Contest, sponsored by the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal Chapter of Romance Writers of America. This contest recognizes achievement in publishing in both print and electronic format among the over 10,000 members of Romance Writers of America.
A long-time Marshfield resident, Johannes has taught English and creative writing for many years to area students from grades 7 to college. She has also taught community creative writing classes for the UW-Marshfield/Wood County Continuing Education
Aerid could not recall how she came to be in the Great Hall, or how water and bandages materialized on trestle tables there. Naed sat slumped against the wall while Yormoc tugged off his tunic and armor. Blood painted Naed's arm, but she could see the wound was only a finger in length.
"Get me up, fool, or ‘tis your hide I'll line my chair with!" Her master Dranoel sat up, took in the guards at the door, and his ashen face paled further.
Yormoc examined the cloth he had been holding to his gashed jaw.
"They haven't killed us yet. ‘Tis like they don't mean to."
The Shadow Man stood motionless as a bat captured by the sun. He had no face, yet Mirianna knew every inch of what passed for face was turned on her father. "Fools! I should damn you all to Beggeth, but the Krad will see to that soon enough." He turned. "Gareth, free the horses!"
"Wait!" Tolbert said as an unearthly, high-pitched clamor erupted from the woods. "What about us? What do we do?"
Only the black hood rotated, cocking with exaggerated deliberation. "Why, you die, old man."
Piper and Peeper cowered. The rats' long, hairless tails swept crumbled bits of stone as they circled their prey. Frederick could see their teeth and the saliva dribbling down their hairy chins. But he couldn't seem to move or think.
"Leave them alone, you beasts!" Grace scurried up the back of one rat and fastened her little teeth on its ear.
The rat screeched and shook its head. Grace's small, furry body whipped about, but she hung on. The other rat stood on thick haunches and opened its jaws toward the tenacious patch of gray.
"Grace! No!" Frederick cried. "Oh, I've got to do something! I just--I just wish I were bigger!" Scrunching his eyes shut, he leaped.