title: The Effect of Moonlight on Tombstones: A Dark Little Collection of Poetry
author:  Della Van Hise 
description: Della Van Hise is a native of Florida, transplanted to California at the age of 21, who has subsequently sunk her roots into the high desert near Joshua Tree National Park. She has not personally seen any aliens since around 1992, but there is rumored to be a secret UFO base underneath her house.<br /><br /> Della's writing started around age 11 on an old Smith Corona typewriter. No, not an electric one. A real antique, made of metal and heavier than a wet coffin. Her first professional novel was best-selling KILLING TIME - the controversial Star Trek novel which was recalled and re-edited in 1984 (making the first edition a rare collector's item) - and which was the foundational plot for the STAR TREK "Reboot" movie.<br /><br /> Della has written extensively in the non-fiction genre, with titles such as QUANTUM SHAMAN and SCRAWLS ON THE WALLS OF THE SOUL. "Quantum Shaman" focuses heavily on the author's metaphysical explorations and experiences, while "Scrawls" is a continuation of those journeys many years later. If you enjoyed the works of Carlos Castaneda or Don Miguel Ruiz, you'll enjoy the non-fiction works of Della Van Hise.<br /><br /> In addition, Della has written professionally for Tomorrow Magazine and other prominent science fiction publications. Her most recent fiction works include Sons of Neverland (an award-winning vampire novel); No Forwarding Address (a science fiction quest of the heart's yearning); and Coyote (a sensuous novel combining the mystical aspects of martial arts, coming of age, and personal sacrifice.)<br /><br /> Della shares her life with her significant other, Wendy Rathbone, and a variety of cats, dogs and desert wildlife.
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  Contents
  
  [Begin Reading](index_split_002.html#filepos504)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Through the small window on the second floor of l’Hotel du Lac, the city of
  Vienna glittered. The flaws in the glass diffused the candle and torchlight,
  turning the pinpoints into spider-legged stars. After eight months Diane
  Benchley, the Countess of Cameron, had memorized the earthly constellations.
  That one would be the soiree of relocated British aristocrats at Herold Haus,
  while the even brighter cluster beyond meant that even at this hour the old
  Stephansdom church was occupied.
  
  She should be there as well, she supposed, praying for…something. For the soul
  of the dead man the undertaker had removed from her apartment yesterday
  morning. For someone—anyone—to appear and rescue her from the same fate. For
  her burdens to be lifted and for her landlord to forget that the rent was due
  at the end of the week.
  
  Absently she picked at the frayed arm of the chair, plucking st