Friday, March 16, 2012


                    My Children's Book

Here is the cover and a couple of drawings from my children's book.  It is now available at Amazon's Kindle store, in English or Spanish. You can download it to Kindle, pc, or tablet. Enjoy.

If you're wondering about this book, I have read it to groups of children and have seen the excitement in their eyes when I read it. That tells me it is a great little book. It also enforces why I write. Is there anything more wonderful than to stir the imagination of a child?

Kevin Hill

To purchase, click on this link:

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Carribbean Spear Fishing

copyright 2012, Kevin R. Hill

                                                                          Caribbean Spear Fishing

I was very good at spear fishing when I met Jacques.  I used to swim out to the reef with my net fish bag and spear gun, and let the current carry me until I ended up at the ferry channel.  Often I forgot about time.  It was another world, a thriving under water jungle of vivid color.  Often I would relax and just 'hang' in the water when a ray approached and watch them swim right up to me with that little human like face, as if to ask, 'who are you?'

Anyways, I was hanging around one of the hotels in town because four sisters ran the place.  Jacques was staying there, and we started talking about spear fishing and decided to swim out together.  When I met him on the beach he was putting on a wet suit.  I tried not to laugh, and convinced him it wasn't needed.  I felt embarrassed because all his equipment was so shiny and new, from the trick knife strapped to his leg, to the high dollar watch and mask.  But I just ignored it and walked into the water.

I guess spear fishing is like combat.  What I mean is that you may think you know the person beside you, but until a bull shark swims past, or 100 angry looking barracuda decide to surround you, you really don't know what that person is going to do.  And that is the way it was with Jacques.  We had been on the reef for about an hour, drifting along, climbing into caves after lobster, when I noticed he wasn't close.

The reef is only about a meter deep where we were, and when I looked around, I could see that Jacques was standing up about 25 feet away.  So I swam over and raised my head beside him, pulling up my mask.  But as soon as I looked at him I could see by the look on his face that something was terribly wrong.  "What's going on?" I asked, following his gaze.

It was low tide and in the distance coral heads were poking out of the water, and the current rushing past created the illusion of movement.  And then that stinking Jacques said the forbidden word:  Shark!

"No," I answered.  "It's coral!"  I explained about low tide, but he wasn't having it.  The look of terror on his face became a horrible thing to look at.  I was staring where he was starting, thinking maybe he was seeing something I wasn't.  Then, to my surprise, he started climbing up on the coral as though to save himself from some rabid dog.  I could see his knees bleeding as he frantically climbed.

Well, that was it.  I just pulled on my mask and slowly started swimming for shore.  Now, you have to understand.  Anyone who spear fishes knows that when you're under water you move in a certain way.  Quick, thrashing movements make you look like a wounded fish, and that is the one thing you do not want to look like.  So, I was just swimming along, laying flat on the surface, spear gun in one hand and bag of fish in the other, kicking my fins with slow easy movements.  I made it about half way to shore when I heard this loud splashing, and saw Jacques come flying past me, arms and legs swinging like mad, as though trying to break a swimming record.  I think he left his spear gun out on the coral.

When I got to the beach he was no where to be seen.  He was so embarrassed he didn't even wait for me!

Monday, March 12, 2012

WINDOWS (Fiction)

Copyright, 2012 Kevin R. Hill


Sometimes my mother makes me speak French and says I’m really good at it.  I’m better than my little brother, Bobby.  He’s a snot nose.  But when we’re down here in Puerto Caribe we have to learn Spanish, and already I can say a lot of things like hello, good morning, and how are you. It’s a really easy language and I think I’ll always smell sun tan lotion when I speak it because my mom is always rubbing it on me while teaching me new words. It’s my lotion language. I’m so quick my mom calls me her special girl.
Mexico is so much better than Canada because we can run everywhere in bare feet and shorts and the ocean is no farther than a spit from our house, if you call it a house.  My dad calls it a hut and swears there’s a rat living in our palm leaf roof, so Bobby stayed up all night with a big stick just waiting for that rat to come out so he could whack it all the way back to the jungle.
I think my dad is right.  There isn’t even glass in the windows to keep out the wind, just a green mosquito net that he tried to cover with some plastic, but my mom got  angry because it kept the air out and made the house feel like a furnace.  I think that’s why my dad went back to Canada.  He just didn’t like the geckos running around the walls and screaming at night.  Nope, he said they sounded like an old woman laughing and he just couldn’t get used to eating tortillas either.  He wanted good old Canadian bread from his favorite bakery.  Bobby and me hid inside the bathroom one night and listened to them talking about going back to Canada.  He talked a lot about my mother’s new friend too.  He just hates Maria and doesn’t want her around.  I had to explain a lot of what they said to Bobb because I’m his big sister and mom and dad both told me to watch out for him.
After my dad left Bobby and ran all over town.  The streets are really rough here so sometimes we run along the beach all the way into town to buy ice creams or cokes from the market.  The sand doesn’t hurt our feet. And when we’re out we always keep some rocks in our pockets because Mexican dogs sneak up on you and you have to have some rocks to throw because if you try to run they’re way faster and bite you on the ankles, and that makes you cry and cry all the way to the doctor. 
One day after my dad went back to Canada, Bobby and me we go tired of scrambling ants with our sticks, and Bobby broke his sandal too, so we went in through the gate and walked across the hot concrete walkway up to the house and looked in the window for mom. 
I didn’t know a woman could kiss another woman, and I knew that my mom was putting lotion on Maria because Maria didn’t have her top on.  Bobby and me watched like it was a movie, and then I pulled Bobby away and took him to the beach.  He wanted to dig for crabs, but I made him sit next to me and listen to a story of mom and dad and how they met in that tiny little restaurant back in Canada.  Somehow it just didn’t seem right telling about Canada with the log cabins and forests and snow when we were sitting there in the sand and the Caribbean just a jump in front of us, but I made him listen to that whole story that I loved so much, and about how dad was going to come back and take us all away again. He’s my little brother and mom and Dad told me to take care of him, so that’s what I do.