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John B. Rosenman

John B. Rosenman, Author of Baganoun's Wonderful Songbird

A multi-award-winning author, John specializes in science-fiction adventure, often on distant worlds and featuring mind-blowing concepts. He’s the author of the ongoing Inspector of the Cross series published by MuseItUp Publishing. It features Turtan, an elite, futuristic agent over 4000 years old. John has published three hundred stories in places like Weird Tales, Whitley Strieber's Aliens, Galaxy and elsewhere. He has also published thirty books, including SF novels such as Alien Dreams and A Senseless Act of Beauty and the young adult novel, The Merry-Go-Round Man (all with Crossroad Press). John’s time-travel story “Killers” received Musa Publishing’s 2013 Editor’s Top Pick award, and “The Blue of Her Hair, the Gold of Her Eyes” won Preditor’s and Editor’s 2010 Readers Poll Award for SF/F short fiction. Some of John’s books are available as audio books from


New Title(s) from John B. Rosenman

Bagonoun's Wonderful Songbird by John B. Rosenman Childhood's Day by John B. Rosenman The Lazarus Trick by John B. Rosenman

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Bagonoun's Wonderful Songbird by John B. Rosenman  An old man and a young girl are unlikely lovers, but what happens when a magical bird starts to sing? Bagonoun's Wonderful Songbird is an improbable love story that takes place on the island Nauru in the South Pacific. Sometimes miracles come true.

Word Count: 5179
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon
Price: $ .99

Reviews of Bagonoun's Wonderful Songbird

From The Pagan and the Pen Reviews



Childhood's Day by John B. Rosenman  Suppose you could have yourself reborn at the age of seven so your childhood self could help you cope with crippling guilt for the death of your father... would you do it? And would it be fair to the boy you once were, especially since he will live only one day?

Word Count: 5620
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon
Price: $ .99 

Review of Childhood's Day!

The Lazarus Trick by John B. Rosenman Growing up can be hard, especially when you have mixed feelings about a fellow sixth grader. Tommy Starr is drawn to Mark Harmon, but despite Mark's magnetic personality, he has a dark side as well. On Halloween, Mark displays terrifying telekinetic and other abilities that frighten Tommy and make him decide never to see Mark again.

His father also doesn't want Tommy to see Mark. Still, Tommy disobeys him, choosing to remain Mark's friend. Soon, government agents discover where Mark and his own father have been hiding. They pursue Mark, determined to harness his powers for the military. As the two boys run, they grow ever closer until a climactic event changes Tommy forever.

Word Count: 18100
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon
Price: $ 3.99 


Bagonoun's Wonderful Songbird

“Bagonoun, at first they were glad I came here, if only to be rid of me. But now they say...”

 He could have finished it. Oddly, there was a time when he would have agreed. Now he raised his hand and stroked her hair, gazing into her beautiful dark eyes. “You must keep coming,” he pleaded. “The bird will not sing without you.”

 “That is all you care about, Bagonoun, winning the competition. You don’t care about me at all.”

 “That’s not true. I do care.”

 “But not as I do.” She sighed. “At least you no longer think me disgusting.”

 He made himself smile. “Child, I have grandchildren older than you.”

 “I told you before, even if you were ugly, I would love you for the beauty inside, which is ageless. I would know it at once, no matter how others saw you.”

Back to Baganoun's Songbird

Childhood's Day

Though it was the most important appointment of his life, Winter was not prepared for the innocuous pastry shop or the plump man in an apron who stood behind a counter.

"Yes, may I help you?"

Winter rubbed his arm, smelling the rich fragrance of bread, rolls, and doughnuts. He glanced at the only customer, who was eyeing some eclairs in a side case.

"I'm Steve Morrison," he finally said, repeating what the man on the phone had told him to say. "I called last night about a special order. A... birthday cake for my son."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Morrison." The man smiled, and then emerged from behind the counter. "Will you come with me, please?"

He ushered Winter through a door, where a pretty young woman met them. "Please go with Ms. Starret. She'll see that you're taken care of."

As the man returned to the bakery, Winter nervously followed Ms. Starret to a room with an inclined couch, where she smiled and told him to lie down. What had he heard such rooms called? Oh yes, birthing chambers. However, he knew it would not be that kind of birth, or rather, that it would be something both more and less than a birth.

Ms. Starret touched him gently. "Are you comfortable, Mr. Morrison?"


"Fine." She smiled and fitted his index finger into a plastic sheath on one of the arms of the couch, and then pressed a button. "This is a gene-scan. It will read and analyze every gene in your system. Basically, we use it to detect any problems or irregularities. If none is found, we transplant a clone-nucleus from one of your cells into a surrowomb, where it will be nurtured and grow over a period of three weeks." She picked up an electrical attachment and placed it around his head. "In addition, selected data stored in your brain will be transferred to a holding unit and later transferred, in turn, to your reprograph's..."

He raised a hand. "Please, it's not necessary to explain everything."

She smiled, making him feel rude. "As you wish, Mr. Morrison. But I will need some information before we proceed." She moved to a computer and began to type into it. "First, what is the precise age you want your reprograph to be?"

He inhaled deeply, remembering the day his father had died. It had been shortly before Winter's seventh birthday.



"Maybe a couple months after seven. I don't want this to be on his birthday."

"I understand. Sex?"


"Of your reprograph. We are now able to produce an opposite-sex version of the subject."

"I didn't know that. Uh, male." He licked his lips. "One thing I've been meaning to ask. How will it—I mean, he—feel?" He tried to imagine what it would feel like to be "born" at the age of seven and couldn't. "Won't it be traumatic? I mean..."

She smiled, patted his shoulder. "Mr. Morrison, your reprograph will be thoroughly conditioned, so that any trauma will be minor."

"But. . ."

"At the same time, I assure you that his feelings and memories, will be yours." She patted him again. "Now, if you have no other questions, perhaps we should begin."

He spread his fingers on the couch's smooth surface. "Just one. What about the limitations of your technology? Isn't it true you can't create a reprograph that will last for more than..."

Ms. Starret's smile froze. "If reprography had been legalized and funded, we would have overcome such problems. But religious and other groups called it godless technology and closed their eyes to all we had to offer." She sighed. "Shall we begin, Mr. Morrison?"

He stiffened. As his wife tearfully stressed, prolonged psychiatric treatment had failed, and his guilt and depression about his parents was only getting worse. He'd lost three jobs in the past two years and had recently started drinking again. When his psychiatrist, an old friend, gave him a phone number and address, Winter had known it was his last chance. But was he willing to risk going to prison for it?

He swallowed. What did he have left to lose? More importantly, what did he have to look forward to if he didn't try it?

He looked at Ms. Starret, forcing himself to relax. "Yes," he heard himself say, "I'm ready."
Back to Childhood's Day

The Lazarus Trick

Chapter One

“Wanna see somethin’ really scary?” Mark said.

Tommy looked at Mark, who like himself was carrying a bag stuffed with candy, the reward of visiting 59 houses this Halloween night.

“Like what?”

“Like somethin’ so scary it’ll make the hair stand up on your head, that’s what!”

“It depends,” Tommy said cautiously. Mark was spooky, unpredictable, and always got into trouble. Both Tommy’s parents had warned him to stay away from Mark. Why, if they knew…

“Shhh,” Mark whispered. “Just watch!”

Nervously, he followed Mark up yet another flagstone walk and watched while he pressed the 60th doorbell of the night. Beneath his pointed Peter Pan cap, Mark’s impish face glistened expectantly in the moonlight.

The door opened, and a kindly, white-haired woman gazed down at them. Somebody’s grandmother, Tommy thought in disappointment. Probably gab our ears off and give us a piece of gum. Or even worse, Sour Tarts.

“Well, what do we have here? Two boys, is it?” She beamed. “And what can I do for you?”

Tommy adjusted his Batman cape and raised his bag. “Trick or treat!”

“Trick or treat, you say?” The old biddy practically went into conniptions, hugging herself and doing a little jig. Then she pointed a finger at them.

“You just wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Tommy watched her fade down the hallway and nudged Mark. “C’mon, let’s split. We ain’t gonna get nothin’ out of her.”

“Oh, yes we will.” Mark winked at him and Tommy thought of witches and goblins. Come to think of it, when Mark had first moved into the neighborhood, he’d been quite popular. Now for some reason kids avoided him. Tommy himself felt torn. Part of him liked Mark a lot. It was as if the boy had some hold on him. Yet, at the same time, Mark scared him a little, and he’d thought often of ending their friendship.

Footsteps. The old woman was coming back. He saw a chipped bowl full of peaches thrust forward. Half of them looked rotten. Disgusted, he reached to take one. She snatched it away. “Nooooo, you don’t!”


“Do a trick first. That’s the rule! Least it was when I was a little girl.” “A trick?” He looked at Mark in confusion.

Mark smiled. “What kind of trick would you like, lady?” he asked politely.

“Oh, something clever. Surprise me!”

“With the greatest of pleasure.” Mark grinned, and something happened in his dark eyes. He pointed at the bowl. “Hershey bars!”

Tommy blinked. The old woman’s bowl was filled to the top with Hershey bars, the half-pound size that cost over two bucks.

“How did you do that?” he gasped.

Mark shrugged.

The old woman stared at the bowl in disbelief. “Now where did they come from? I could have sworn I brought peaches.”

“You want trick or treat?” said Mark. “Lady, you got it.”

Sores appeared on the old woman’s face. Some of them burst and began to run. She dropped the Hershey bars and clasped shriveled hands to her cheeks. One of the fingers fell off.

“How about flying, lady?” Mark said. “Like to be a bird?”

Screaming, she rose and shot through a doorway. Through a front window, Tommy could see her whirling about the living room, occasionally banging into walls. Mark turned to Tommy and smirked. “Scary enough?”

He tried to speak, but he couldn’t. Horror filled him like ice water.

“It’s a knack,” Mark said. “I don’t use it much ’cause I’ll get caught. But now and then…”

In the house the woman’s screams rose and fell. Tommy heard a thud. Then more screams.

He swallowed, surprised he could. “What—what are you…”

“Going to do next?” Mark contemplated the moon. “You know, maybe I’ll turn her into an animal, like a skunk or pig.” He grinned. “Or maybe I’ll even make something up, something so wild no one’s ever thought of it before. Something that’ll blow your mind.”

Now the hair rose on his scalp just as Mark said it would. “No! Stop it, please!”

“Oh, all right. If you insist.” Mark pouted and looked into the house. The woman swooped out of one of the rooms and for a moment was just as Tommy had last seen her: disease-ridden and terrified. Then she was unblemished, standing before them again with a bowl of overripe peaches.

 “Thank you.” Mark picked one, rubbed it on his sleeve, and took a bite. The old woman started to collapse.

“Hey, lady,” said Mark, “you don’t remember a thing.”

The old woman blinked, straightened, and held out the bowl. “Have another, son,” she smiled. “Take all you want.”

“No thanks.” Somehow, Mark had finished the peach and tossed the pit over his shoulder. Jauntily, he hooked Tommy’s arm. Tommy felt himself being escorted back toward the sidewalk. He looked down at his bag, surprised he was carrying it. It was filled to the brim with half-pound Hershey bars.

He gasped. This was mad—crazy! How could Mark do this, and what was he, anyway? Though stunned, he knew he’d finally had enough. He should have listened to his parents long before this!

Abruptly, he stopped on the walk to tell Mark they were through and he wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Mark,” he started, “I…”

Mark grinned, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “Yeah, Tommy, what is it?”

He swallowed. “Uh, maybe it would be better—”

Shouts. Turning, Tommy saw half a dozen small kids come running up the walk toward them—all eager, it seemed, to get some of the old lady’s peaches.

Mark laughed when he saw them and moved to block their path. He raised his hands above them like a magician about to conjure.

“Say, Tommy,” he said with a wink, “now would you like to see something really scary?”

 Back to Lazarus Trick