Suzanne Cidell

Suzanne Cidell

Author/Writer

Suzanne began writing stories and essays as a child. She paused her writing to complete a Bachelor of Science degree in botany and a Masters in social work and to raise her two children. An invitation to assist a friend who was struggling with writer’s block revived her own passion for storytelling. That was all the impetus needed for the floodgates to open. “The Arts of Love and War” poured into Suzanne’s mind; the voices of David and Susannah were so insistent that she would wake in the night and put them to paper. She had no idea of this writing ever becoming a book; it was just for fun. The book was written when Suzanne was in her thirties. It lay dormant for three decades except for the enthusiastic reviews of the few friends allowed to read it. Now, with the help of her friends and family, “The Arts of Love and War” has been unveiled and offered to the world. She feels honored to have been entrusted with the privilege of giving birth to David and Susannah’s story. Somewhere, they are rejoicing.

Suzanne has written a fictionalized account of how “The Arts of Love and War” came into being. This is her next published work, “The Still Face Experiment”.

Suzanne lives in New York with her husband and two adorable French Bulldogs. She has worked in French Bulldog rescue in past years. She is also a certified second-degree Reiki practitioner and an avid birder. Suzanne was a librarian for eighteen years and also taught and performed bellydance. She is currently traveling the world and has been to twenty-eight countries. Her favorite so far is Iceland, the setting of her next book. Watch her website for further details.

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The Arts of Love and War Sample Pages

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They were going to rape her. Good. Susannah gave a silent prayer of thanks, for in order to rape her they had to untie her legs. And now the bearded man knelt at her feet and began to saw at the rope around her ankles, as the man behind her tightened his grip on her arms. The third man joined them, unbuckling his belt and leering in anticipation. The fourth was farther in the shadows to her right. They were all in place. They were all perfectly in place, as if God had aligned them, and she whispered her thanks, and she looked left, across the fire, to signal David with her eyes that she was going to be the victor, not the victim. But – guessing what the men intended – he had turned his head away and, sickened, closed his eyes. He couldn’t take this. He couldn’t bear hearing anyone in pain – but he was going to. He was going to hear her screaming in agony. In just a moment it would come, screams, screams, excruciating screams, over and over and over, till her voice was gone, till her mind was gone. He tried to brace himself, but he knew it was no use, and the first one hadn’t even started on her yet. Any second – any second now.

But it was not a scream.

Susannah looked down at the man on one knee before her as he sawed at the rope around her ankles, his head bent over his task. Silently she counted down the seconds, and the instant the last rope frayed and broke she kicked him under the chin as hard as she could, snapping his head back so far the neck cracked and he dropped like a stone. Simultaneously she banged her head backwards, straight into the throat of the man who held her, and his grip loosened as he gasped in pain.

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