Behind the words

Often when I sit down to write I’ll bring my story up on the screen and at first glance it is just pages of words. Hit Ctrl + End and I’m where I left off yesterday. I go back a couple of paragraphs just to be sure I approve of what I wrote the last time I sat down at it. That’s when the images begin to develop.

Behind the words I see the faces and hear the dialog between my characters. I can feel their joy and happiness when things are going right for them. I can also feel the pain of their losses and tragedies. I know their fears and their realities. Realities? Yes, during these moments, it is all that exists.

During conversations, I am there participating in all sides of it. Does that make me crazy? No, don’t answer that. When you think about it though, you are formulating both sides of any argument between characters and you have feelings one way or another about the current topic of that conversation. Okay, I am crazy, or perhaps there are just those of us who can see both sides of the coin. Yeah, that’s it.

Conflict? Without conflict things would be rather bland. It is an aspect of our everyday lives and what makes a story so juicy. Like squeezing a ripe lemon, it sprays all over the place and gets everything all sticky. Then you have one hell of a mess to clean up. But because of it, you have a story that is convincing and riveting. As the writer of that story you are a part of that conflict. Hell, you have created that conflict and for some of us with just the right egos, that makes us Gods.

As a Writer or even a Reader, what do you see Behind the Words?

Bill Talcott is an everyday guy who has decided to try his hand at writing. He is the Author of The Mission and is currently working on the Shield of Health, the second book in the series, Remnants of the Past. He also has other projects on the back burner and is looking forward to becoming rich and famous soon. He would one day like to be rich enough to own and drive a Bugatti. Bill Talcott also finds it amusing to talk about himself in the third person.

You can find Bill all over the place but here are some links anyways.

Bill Talcott’s Blog

Bill’s OFFICIAL site

The Mission @ Amazon

The Mission @ Smashwords

Bill on Facebook

@BillTalcott on Twitter

Dear Discerning Readers,

Everything you read, see or imagine is not always good for you! You must discern what things you let into your mind and what things you don’t let into your mind. Of course you have free choice so it is up to you but you might want to consider what is good for your mind and what is not good for your mind. “Your mind is more important than you know” ~ Dr. Mike Murdock. Your mind is more important than your body, your friends or your family. If you don’t take care of your mind you can’t take care of anybody! Again, when you start taking care of your mind by knowing what is good for your mind and what is not good for your mind then you can take care of yourself and others.

In my book 10 Powerful Tips for Training Unstoppable Children I talk about discernment.  Chapter 7 of my book is titled “Discernment the Unstoppable Revealer of the Enemy and His Lies.”  In this chapter I talk about the true enemy of your soul! This enemy is not made of flesh and blood but is in the form of a spirit! The Bible, which is the true word of God says, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realm.” (Ephesians 6:12). You must know who these spiritual enemies are and then steer clear of them.

Who is the enemy of your soul?  You can discern who is on your side and who is not on your side by their actions. You do not want to be cooperating with a spirit or spirits who hate you, who want to steal from you, and who want to destroy your very life.  The Bible says this is the actions of the enemy – (he)”…comes only to steel, kill, and destroy…” (John 10:10).  This enemy wants to kill you in the end and will stop at nothing to achieve his goal.  The Bible also says that the enemy “…is a liar” John 8:44.  Have you been trusting a spirit who has been whispering sweet little lies into your ear!  Ask God to show you the truth and He will if you are honest and really want to know who you are dealing with in the spirit realm.  But be careful, you might not like what you hear at first. Try to push through the doubt the fear and dread to learn the truth.  This knowledge is important and may save you a lot of trouble and heartache!

I have personally encountered spirits who wanted to destroy me and have won!  There was one spirit who wanted to steel my marriage, my peace and have me kill myself!! But I resisted him like the Bible states, “Resist the devil and he will flee from you” (James 4:7). When you resist you must run to a safe place. To a spirit that is on your side.  I trust in Jesus and I am connected to the one spirit who is on my side – the Holy Spirit. This is the spirit of the one and true living God and He has shown me things in the spirit realm that has brought me great peace and joy throughout my life. If you want to be in contact with the spirit I am talking about, just read the Bible.  Believe that Jesus is real and cry out to God.  If you do believe, He will answer you.  The Bible says, “…know the truth and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32).  You will be free to live, free to love and free for life.

Copyright ©2012 by Patti Gibble – All Rights Reserved.

Scripture quotations are taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV®
Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishers, Inc., Grand Rapids, Michigan 49506.  All rights reserved

Today on the Making Connections Book Tour, I have an excerpt from Michael Myer’s new book, “Deadly Eyes,” a murder mystery set in the Caribbean.

DEADLY EYES by Michael Meyer

SYNOPISIS:

 A HAUNTING CARIBBEAN MYSTERY

James Cuffy, better known as Cuff, is living in paradise with his girlfriend, on the small Caribbean island of St. Croix, where the sky is as blue as Cuff’s eyes, the ocean as pretty as Rosie’s cheeks, where the gentle lapping of the waves is a lullaby, and the swaying of the palm trees is a dance. The sandy beaches are as white as sugar, and the horizon is a world away. St. Croix indeed is paradise, the perfect place for living, laughing, and loving. 

But the sandy beaches and the turquoise sea can provide no cover from the deadly eyes of the unknown stalker pursuing Cuff. Murder leads to murder as he attempts to untangle the terrible web in which he has suddenly become entangled.

The twists and turns are relentless, the roads of the fast action leading in all directions, but time is running out, and Cuff, his faithful Rosie at his side, knows it.

TRAILER: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWLBtVDUdC4

EXCERPT of DEADLY EYES:

These were not naked eyes, for the distance between these eyes and the beach bar at Cathy’s Fancy was too great for the naked eye to discern who was who. No, these eyes had planned meticulously. The eyes were glued to a pair of terribly expensive and unbelievably powerful Swarovski Optik binoculars. The balcony on which they now worked, taking in the scene before them, was the perfect place to see but not be seen. The powerful binoculars saw to that.

The distance, the palm trees, and the rays of the sun all helped. The position had been hand picked, after careful consideration. Every angle had been considered, and, one by one, they had all been discarded for one reason or another until this very spot, the perfect place to observe while not being observed, had been selected.

Yes, the eyes had seen it all. The eyes had seen precisely what they had hoped to see. They were like a master puppeteer.  They planned, controlled, and observed, but from a safe distance. They did not miss a trick.

The eyes. The deadly eyes of St. Croix.

A Little about Me

            I have resided in and have visited many places in the world, all of which have contributed in some way to my own published writing. I have literally traveled throughout the world, on numerous occasions. I have lived in Finland, Germany, Thailand, Saudi Arabia, and the U.S. Virgin Islands, on the island of St. Croix, where DEADLY EYES is set. I gained the wanderlust to see the world, to experience other cultures, at an early age, and this desire has never left me. If anything, it has only gained in intensity as I have aged. I try to travel internationally at least once a year. In the interim, I spend lots of time traveling around both my home state of California and other nearby states.

I spent my early years in the small town of Lone Pine, California, the home of almost every western movie, in addition to a wide variety of other genres, made in the 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s. In fact, Hollywood still films parts of big-time movies there today. My dad, the town’s lifeguard at the time, personally knew John Wayne, Lloyd Bridges, and Lee Marvin, all of whom came to the town’s pool, the Memorial Plunge, at times to cool off after a hectic day of working in the sun. I was even an extra in a movie filmed there in 1957, MONOLITH MONSTERS, a B-cult favorite even today. I was ten years old at the time. Even though I resided in a small town hours from the big city, I was exposed to the excitement of action and heroes at a formative age, and, thus, my interest in writing novels of suspense such as DEADLY EYES was born.

As a recent retiree from a forty-year career as a professor of writing, I now live in Southern California wine country with my wife, Kitty, and our two other cats.

BOOK LINK: http://www.amazon.com/Deadly-Eyes-ebook/dp/B007IO3O22/ref=lp_B005E7M8CW_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335801699&sr=1-1

WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME:

Amazon author’s site: http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Meyer/e/B005E7M8CW/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/674626.Mike_Meyer

Facebook writers’s site: https://www.facebook.com/MichaelMeyersWritingLife/app_191387770912394

Don’t mistake me for a lady, old man, or that might be the last mistake you’ll ever make.

Aria has been searching for her brother for several weeks when she finds out he’s been taken prisoner by the Queen. In her desperation to bring back her only family member, Aria places her trust in Bikkar after he aids in her escape of the guards. They head to the seat of the throne, only to find Aria’s brother has been put under the spell of the Black Orb, leaving him a mindless husk intent on serving the Queen. To rid the world of the Queen’s rule, Aria and Bikkar travel to the end of the kingdom in search of the Dragon Claw, a magical item to break the Black Orb – and her only hope at getting her brother back.

While the world was very detailed, the characters were very simple. Aria only wants her brother back, and repeats this often. There were few minor characters that could have been developed further that would have helped flush out the story, yet Aria was a strong character and Bikkar was a nice compliment to her. The writing was very smooth: the places Aria and Bikkar went seemed to come alive. The ending, while nice and tidy, felt abrupt or forced, the climax too-quickly resolved.

With wonderful descriptions of the surrounding world and enough action to keep the plot moving nicely, The Black Orb is a quick fantasy story that readers can get lost within its pages.

View all my reviews

If you start doubting what the book says, we may as well go back now…

Max has been sent to his uncle’s fortress to continue his studies while his mother attends to a dying friend. While exploring the castle, Max finds an old storage room. Intent on avoiding his studies, he begins searching all of the chests in the room, only to one day find a young girl, Darla, reading a book. Soon, they both pass the time reading about the grand adventures in the book and dreaming of going on their own. So, when Max is forbidden to go back into the room, he prepares to do just that, taking Darla with him. But when the castle is besieged, the two friends have to find a way to get back home.

Once the two figure out the secret of the book, the story picks up a bit. In their efforts to go back home, Max and Darla are transported to two different worlds. While the worlds weren’t as fleshed out as they could have been, the fast-paced adventure kept the story moving forward, and the bond between Max and Darla developed as they endeavored to stay together and find the way home.

Fairly well-developed and adventurous, Have Book, Will Travel is a light read great for younger readers, full of mystery, magic, and friendship.

View all my reviews

Blurb:

It’s Nineteen ninety one and eleven year old Paul and his family have just moved to the  climatic sunshine paradise of Cyprus with his father’s work as an army sergeant with the Royal Engineers.

On Paul’s first day at school, his third first day in as many years, he is befriended by the dominant school bully Michael who takes young Paul under his sinister wing, introducing him into the fast and furious game of break time football before sadistically snatching it away from him and the chance of making more new friends.

Michael though only wants to hang out with Paul after school since they are neighbours and the only same age kids on their respective army estate. One day after school Michael shows Paul the beautiful but wildly dangerous and adventurous world of the surrounding wasteland caves and valleys around the estate. But things take a turn for the worst when Michael bullies Paul into steeling some cigarettes from his dad’s army bar and the two run off underneath a local bridge to try and smoke them. Here Michael is ‘accidentally’ urinated on from the top of the bridge by another young boy, Ben, who Michel and Paul chase into a local park to beat up for his prank.

Paul wants nothing to do with the savage beating, but has no choice in the matter with bully Michael over dominating him and forcing Paul to hit the boy too. The young boy though is finally saved from a further beating by his older sister, Sarah, a pretty tomboy girl from Michael and Paul’s class at school.

Paul is completely spellbound by Sarah and not only because of her pretty and athletic looks, but also her rough and tough no nonsense edged ways and handling of the bully Michael who, as of yet, has never been spoken to or stood up to before, the way Sarah stood up to him in the park.

From here on in this incident sets off a series of events that brings the homely, well rounded Paul and the troubled young Sarah’s worlds together and the two begin an unusual but adventurous and exciting friendship that will stay with them for the rest of their lives, as they both become a solid shoulder for each other to cry on while helping one another to confront their inner most fears and
demons. From the mystery of Sarah’s Mother’s sudden disappearance to the trials and tribulations of growing up on a British army base, Sarah’s domestic abuse issues living in a broken home with her alcoholic father to Paul’s school bullying from the borderline psychotic Michael! Summertime adventures on the gorgeous Cypriot beeches and bondoo wasteland valleys to haunted houses, dealing with growing up on the move and first teen romances. All the while dealing with that delicate yet rough transition into teenage-hood.

Bio:

Today I have the wonderful Gemma from Cambria Hebert’s newest novel, Charade! Feel free to check out my review and then dig into some tough questions with the newest cast member in this great series!

First: The book!

Blurb:

Dying at the hands of a psycho was a shock. Having my life returned to me by an angel was
incredible. Being named a Supernatural Treasure and being given Sam as my guard was
pretty darn awesome. Acquiring a debt for it all—well, I should have seen it coming.

Now here we are, fighting demons from Hell, caring for a boy that I just don’t trust, and
traveling to faraway places to return a treasure to its rightful place. Nothing is as it seems.
Everyone wears a mask; everyone puts on a charade. It’s up to us to separate the truth from
the lies and reality from fiction. A hard task when my new reality involves fallen angels,
witches and dragons… and did I mention Hell?

Anchoring me down through it all is Sam. Sam, who must face tragedies of his own and is
put to the test again and again.

If we fail in our task, life as we know it—life as you know it—will end. Forever.

Now please help me welcome Gemma!

TK: Thank you for being here today Gemma! How long have you been a fallen angel? 

Gemma: I stopped counting the years a long time ago. It’s been a very long time.

TK: Did you ever live on Earth? What’s the “Big Guy” like?

Gemma: I’ve lived on Earth since I fell from Heaven. The “Big Guy”? He’s amazing.

TK: How did you fall?

Gemma: That’s a little personal and not something I talk about.

TK: You hint that you had lost someone close to you, can you talk about that? 

Gemma: Again, that’s something I don’t talk about.

TK: Hm. Ok. Well, I notice you’re hanging around Heven and Sam a lot now. You met Sam when you gave him the bracelet. Can you tell us about meeting him? What drew you to help him out?

Gemma: Of course, I knew of Sam before I met him. I always wondered what he would be like. So when I was able to sell him the bracelet that he gave to Heven I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in a long time. Sam is very… bright. I’m not talking about his intelligence, thought he is very smart. I mean he seems to shine from within. Even with all the darkness in him, and there’s definitely darkness he has this light inside of him. This goodness. His eyes are very expressive when he isn’t guarded, which isn’t often, but when we first met he was that way as he studied the things I was selling. I just remember thinking that he reminded me of someone I knew long ago.

TK: What made you decide to go back to Sam to help him with protecting Heven?

Gemma: It was so easy to see what Heven meant to him.  That day on the water… the day Sam and Heven were attacked, I watched him pull her out, I watched him fight to save her and I could feel the way he blamed himself. He felt like a failure. I know that feeling and watching him so clearly wanting her to be safe made me decide to teach him what I know about fighting.  I knew that they were going to be meeting some trouble, a lot of trouble, and they would need help. I wanted them to have a shot at getting through all this so they would have the life I knew they wanted – that Sam wanted – and that he deserved. Heven is a very…  good girl as well, she’s grown to become a friend. They both have.

TK: I think you’re quite taken with Cole, also. After all, you DID let him touch your dagger. What attracted you to him?

Gemma: I can’t say that I am “taken” with Cole… I like him, he’s hard not to like. He’s kind of like a big kid and his eyes are so blue… *clears throat*. He’s important to Heven and even to Sam, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, so teaching him to take care of himself is necessary. And yes, I did let him touch my dagger… I just want him to be safe.

TK: Where did you learn your mad fighting skills? Are you free to teach me?

Gemma: I’m currently a little busy with Sam and Heven and all that drama but maybe someday I’ll teach a defense class. I’ll send you an invite.

TK: Great! I look forward to it! Heven and Sam have been through so much, together and separately. Do you think they’ll make it?

Gemma: I sincerely hope so. I’m going to do what I can to make sure of it.

TK: Do you think love is worth it?

Gemma: Yes. I do. But it’s a risk. Love isn’t always forever even if we want it to be. I can’t say if I will take that risk.

TK: What are the roles of the Supernatural Beings? Where do angels/fallen angels/demons fit on the hierarchy? 

Supernal beings are basically angels on earth. They are wholly human but they are inherently good, they cannot under any circumstances be turned from good toward evil. They are usually in careers that allow them to help others: doctors, nurses, military.

The hierarchy of Angels/fallen angels and demons is pretty simple. You have the Angels at the top. There are various types of angels and they all rank in order of their job importance. Then you have the fallen angels. We are the lowest of the angels… my type of fallen angel is at the top of the fallen angel list because I am not lost to evil. Demons are the very bottom of any hierarchy. Demons are the lowest of the low… even in hell.

TK: What’s your favorite…

thing to do?  Go hiking.

color?  Green.

weapon?  A dagger.

place to hang out?  Anywhere outdoors.

memory?   Again, that’s personal… it’s the reason I fell from Heaven.

Hm, well I don’t know how informative that was – that girl’s got secrets! To find out more, check out Charade! Oh and since Sam is just yummy, here’s the back cover of the book for your viewing pleasure!

Bio:

Cambria Hebert grew up in a small town in rural Maryland. She is married to a United States
Marine and has lived in South Carolina, Pennsylvania and her current state of North Carolina.
She is the mother of two young children with big personalities, is in love with Starbucks (give
the girl a latte!) and she is obsessed with werewolves. Cambria also has an irrational fear of
chickens (Ewww! Gross) and she loves to read and review books for her blog. Her favorite
book genre is YA paranormal, and she can be found stalking that section at her local Barnes and
Nobles (which happens to be her favorite place ever!).

Masquerade is her first published novel, but she also has a short story prequel to Masquerade
available in Ebook titled, Before. In addition, she has another short story published titled
Whiteout.

Cambria also co-hosts a live, internet blog radio talk show, JournalJabber,
(www.blogtalkradio.com/journaljabber) where she dishes about books, publishing and
everything in between: hair in a can, toilet snakes, chicken phobias, etc..

You can find Cambria on Facebook, Good Reads (she is a moderator of the Creative Reviews group and the Creative Reviews Book Club) and her blog/website http://www.cambriahebert.com for her latest crazy antics and the scoop on Masquerade.

Thanks for stopping by! Show Cambria some love for her latest work of art. Keep them coming, girl!

Blurb:

An intense, artful, and heartfelt U.S. military memoir detailing accounts of war-fighting in Baghdad, Iraq, Border Patrol in Yuma, Arizona, and Hurricane Katrina disaster relief efforts on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.

Bio:

Stephen Paul Register moved around often as a child in the American South. He settled in Nashville before joining the Tennessee National Guard. He was deployed to to Baghdad, Iraq and Kuwait for over 16 months from 2003 to 2004. He served in Hurricane Katrina relief efforts and also had the duty of supporting Border Patrol in Yuma, Arizona. Stephen attended Belmont University in Nashville from 2005 to 2008 where he received a Bachelor of Arts degree in Religion and the Arts. He then went on to Yale University to earn his Master of Divinity degree from Yale Divinity School, where he graduated in 2011. He now lives with his wife Anna in Nashville.

Stephen Paul Register has a philosophers mind, an artists heart, and a writing style that beautifully reflects a lifetime of profound experiences. From his upbringing in the American South to his ivy league graduate education at Yale University, Register has travelled the world over as a student, a nomad and a soldier. Register’s voice is often Hemingwayesque in its control and simplicity, and yet, on occasion, it blossoms beautifully into an overflow of nearly Proustian extravagance.

Extra info:

A new military memoir now available from ReFryed Publishing entitled MEANTIME: The Aesthetics of Soldiering, by Stephen P. Register.  Stephen fought in the early years of Operation Iraqi Freedom in Baghdad, sentineled the border between Arizona and Mexico in support of U.S. Border Patrol, and served in disaster relief efforts on the Mississippi Gulf Coast in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.  After being honorably discharged he went on to earn his Master of Divinity at Yale Divinity School.  Presently he lives with his wife Anna in Nashville, Tennessee.  Contact him on Facebook, Twitter, or visit his website at www.stephenpaulregister.com.

Blurb:

‘Sorrow’s Child’, the first novel in ‘The Taint’ series, is a dark fairytale steeped in myth and magic. In a richly gothic setting, ‘Sorrow’s Child’ is a coming of age story and a tale of betrayal and bloody revenge.

On the Isle of Muin, one of the thirteen scattered Meda Isles, Lilith, a young orphan and an indentured servant, is found guilty of witchcraft and is condemned to hang…

Bio:

I’m an Australian writer of Gothic Fantasy and Fairy Tales and a visual artist, exhibiting under my maiden name Georgina Smith. I live on an organic farm in southern Tasmania, with my husband, two children, and a hoard of unruly dogs, ducks, chickens and goats.

I’m currently working on my four part Gothic Fantasy series ‘The Taint’. The first novel ‘Sorrow’s Child’, will be released in May 2012.

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/gothicwriter

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5375907.Georgina_Anne_Taylor

Excerpt:

She sat in darkness.

Lost within a realm of perpetual night and enveloped by grief.

Her long hair flowed over her slender shoulders, sweeping the ground, her wraith-like form trembling as she wept bitter tears. Trickling down her cheeks and onto the rocks below, they formed a spreading lake that crept across the cavern floor.

Reason had long since faded, leaving only an inner tarn of sorrow. Too soon. Too young. Too soon.

Immersed in her long lament, she paid no heed as her womb slowly swelled. The birth spasms struck her unawares, the cavern resonating with her cries, as she expelled her newborn infant from her cold womb and into the dark depths of her sorrow’s tears…

It just gives me chills! Check out this great debut novel from a wonderful lady, and I hope you’ll agree, the next one can’t come soon enough!

Links:

Smashwords

Amazon

About Michael Lorde

Michael  was raised in a rural town in upstate New York and has two sons and two daughters.  After living in a warmer climate for nearly thirty years,  Michael has since moved back north with the youngest daughter of the four.  They are dog lovers and have two.  Blind Veil is Michaels debut novel.

Blurb:

How can an unreported crime that occurred forty years in the past,and across the country, affect a New York City Cop today?

Can a seemingly innocent boat ride forever change the life of a former Marine?

Find out when a Police Officer meets an eccentric scientist who claims to hold secret knowledge that has been hidden from the rest of society.

Is this all truly happening, or is he slowly losing his grip on reality? Unfortunately, neither conclusion between the two worlds is better than the other as the clarifying line between reality and impossibility slowly disintegrates, turning his world upside down.

He must dig thirty years into his past; deep beneath the veil and the mesh of murder, lies and deceit to find answers.

Follow the trail of events that will forever shape his future… and maybe yours.

BLIND VEIL EXCERPTS

Read Michael Lorde’s, BLIND VEIL. Take the ride! 

Please enjoy a few excerpts from Blind Veil.  These are not in sequence.

Excerpt #1

It was many years since those fights, and Lamont, now a grown man in his forties, slept fitfully.

‘Crash!’ The thunderbolt caused him to sit straight up in bed.

Well, he thought, at least it wasn’t the dream waking him.  He looked at the clock on the bedside table, flashing 1:30 pm.  He repositioned his pillow, kicked the covers from his feet and lay back down.  He was hot and sweating.  It would be a ten-hour shift in a couple of hours.  He needed sleep.  After listening to his own breathing and the rainstorm for half an hour, he knew he’d get no more rest.

Sliding from the mattress, he went to the bathroom to wash his face before making his first cup of the night.  Evening shift, with so little sleep, was going to be a long one.  The tile kitchen floor felt cool on his feet as he looked out at the dreary day.  Boxes sat in the corner, still unpacked.  He was grateful to have found this apartment which was much closer to the precinct than his last place.  So close, that he could actually walk to work.

Housing is hard to come by in New York.  He’d waited two years for this place.  The coffee maker began gurgling, muting the thunder outside.  Lamont picked up the small pocket knife lying on the counter.  He rubbed his fingers across its marked handle and watched the water drizzle down the kitchen window.

Lamont thought back to when he enlisted in the Marines against Emmett’s wishes.  Unlike his uncle, he refused to play the part of a rancher his whole life.  A horrible argument erupted, causing a wedge in their relationship.  Lamont enlisted.  Once through boot camp, he was assigned to Camp Pendleton.  Eight weeks later, he was called to the Lieutenant’s office.  He walked with anxiousness in his stride, splashing mud up on the ends of his camouflage pants the whole way.

The room’s gray walls smelled of musty cigars.  The Lieutenant sat at an old desk, stacked with paperwork that seemed to have been forgotten for months.  Lamont was nervous.  When a newly enlisted man is asked to sit down in his superior’s office, it’s serious business.    He grew more concerned when the chaplain stepped inside.

Lieutenant Calhoun made no bones about telling Lamont that he was a valued part of the Corps.  He wasn’t in trouble.  Emmett was in the hospital and so he was being given emergency leave to go to him.

The cancer went undetected until it reached Emmett’s bones and blood.  Nothing could be done, except to control the pain.  Drugged by heavy doses of morphine, Emmett babbled wild stories of demons and medallions and tribal burials.  Most of what he said made no sense to anyone, but it was quick.  His uncle died three weeks later, Lamont at his side.

It rained the entire week of the funeral.  The few close friends Emmett had stood up front, holding umbrellas as the casket was slowly lowered into the wet earth next to Sarny’s grave in front of Karen’s.  A large group of others stood behind.  Lamont was surprised at the number that turned out to pay their respects.  He’d always assumed his family was frowned upon. His assumptions were based on decade old schoolyard rumors.  In reality, nearly a third of the town attended the funeral.  Emmett was more respected than his nephew knew.  Many there made comforting remarks to ease Lamont’s grief.

“Your uncle was a good man,” Adam Harlow said, putting his arm around Lamont’s shoulders.  “He gave me the best cattle dog I ever had.”

“Prissy,” Lamont replied.  “I remember her.”

“Yep.” Adam reached in his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife. It bore the initials L.S. on the handle.  “I believe this belongs to you.”

Lamont looked at the engraved initials on the handle.

“I found it in the old barn last month between some boards in the loft floor.  Thought you might want it back.”

The knife had been a gift from Uncle Emmett on Lamont’s 14^th birthday.  He’d lost it working on the Harlow farm a few days later.  Now he held it in his hand, running his fingers over the L.S., choking back his sorrow.

“Yep, a good man.” Adam sighed.  “Never heard a bad word about him.  Not by anyone who matters anyhow.”

‘Crash!’ The thunder jolted Lamont back to the kitchen window and the storm outside.

Coffee.  He needed coffee.  Man he hated working eves on days he had court.

A shower and an hour later, he pulled on his trousers and uniform shirt.  He buckled his duty belt and pushed a fresh magazine into his 9MM.  He holstered his weapon along with an extra clip.  Grabbing his Asp, he slid the baton into the gun belt next to his Capstun.  The outfit was completed by a long raincoat and hat.  In all practicality, Lamont Simms looked all the part of the forty year old city cop that he was.  He stepped out the door of his apartment building and walked the eight blocks, in the downpour, to the precinct.

Excerpt #2

His head was spinning.  Well, he ought to at least take a look down in the bilge.  As lacking as his mechanical skills were, he’d figure something out.  But first, he’d grab some tools.

The knob to the cabinet seemed to move when he reached to pull it open.  His eyes weren’t cooperating, and neither were his limbs.  He squeezed his hand into a hard fist and released it several times to get the blood to his hand pumping.  His fingers were asleep and weak.  He felt strange.  His head was as light as a cloud, all the while his thoughts whirled like a tornado.  He had to slow them down to make sense of them.

Rummaging through the cabin he determined that Clyde definitely traveled light.  There was very little on this boat.  In the sparse cabinet he found a small tool box, a child-sized life jacket and ring, a thin blanket, a rope, a few pieces of loose silverware, short useless sections of tubing, and a long strand of wire probably left over from engine work long ago.  They moved in the shadows as he groped about the cupboard.  He stretched further towards the rear wall, ran his hand across the shelf and finally found what he was looking for.  Tucked far in the back sat an extra battery and here they were… flares!  Good!  He pulled them both out.  He could signal for help with the flares and attempt to resolve his equipment problem by replacing the battery.  Though at this point, he doubted it had a charge.

His weak fingers swept the cabinet again, this time finding only the empty rear wall.  He pressed his hand against the back of the shelf and ran it the full length of the cabinet from corner to corner.  No flare gun.  ‘Damn!’

Excerpt #3

It’s a golden rule in law enforcement that you never handcuff in the front.  There are very few exceptions: obesity, pregnant females, some juveniles.  The pat down was a joke too.  He leaned forward, to conceal the pocket knife that remained deep in his shorts pocket.  If he’d felt any deadly threat from them, it would have been over long before now.

He was once again being detained against his will and that led Simms to instantly dislike the man in front of him.  It was something to do with his mannerism.  Simms drank the watered down coffee, sizing him up the whole time.

He was fortyish, probably married to a woman he ignored.  He forced himself to appear decent to people, though he was anything but.  He was balding but, instead of a comb-over, he elected to trim the thin wisp of hair on top extra short in order to minimize its contrast.  With his ashen complexion, he resembled a vampire Simms saw in a movie once, the skin punctuated here and there with deep acne scars.  The man stood at the doorway wheezing softly.  He was antsy, waiting while trying to relax at the same time. His oversized forehead sported a unibrow and his dark mustache was almost lost under his large nose.  His ears were disproportionately small, like dried peaches.  One hand hung at his side, hovering over his weapon, and the other drummed with annoyance on his thigh.  He attempted a professional stance, deliberately extending what little chest he had as far out as possible over his belly.  No doubt he practiced this before a mirror.  In his black suit and starched white shirt, he reminded Lamont of a penguin; a large, odd, unlikeable sort of penguin.

“Do you want to tell me why the hell I’m still handcuffed?” Simms demanded.

This man was uncomfortable to be here and it suddenly occurred to Simms what a threat he posed to the agent.  These people didn’t know a thing about him.  It was time to use this to his advantage.  After three days with Byron, he was out of patience.

Excerpt #4

Time to hide.

There was only one safe place in the house.  He wasn’t a kid anymore.  Could he still fit?  If they found him hiding there he’d be trapped, but he was trapped anyway, here in the house.  Simms opened the pantry door, almost knocking down an old can of peas.  He caught it mid-fall.  Careful not to disturb the dust, he placed it precisely from where it had fallen.  They’d notice a clean spot.  He grabbed the rope which hung at the rear corner of the pantry wall and pulled it to the left.  It revealed an open space about three feet wide which dropped to a small enclosed area below the house.  The total ceiling clearance there fell just shy of five feet, too small for a man his size to fit.  The radio sounded outside the window.  It crackled before spitting out whispers.  Simms stepped over the pantry floor and into the tiny space and turned around.  He hadn’t made a sound.  He willed himself into the faux root cellar before twisting his hand around for the rope.  He used it to carefully slide the panel back in place, keeping a tight grip on it to lock it in.  He was sealed off from the pantry and the kitchen, but was so squished he couldn’t breathe.  His ribcage was crammed in like an oversized sardine in a can. His lungs couldn’t fully expand.  Standing blindly in the tight closet, he wondered how long he could stay in this position before passing out.  Sweat dripped from his pores.  A spider web clung to his cheek as he turned his head toward the sounds in the house.

Quiet footsteps meandered from room to room.  The search was thorough.  Twenty minutes later, they were now in the kitchen.  Cabinets were being opened.  He closed his eyes in the pitch black.  He could feel them walking towards him.  The pantry door swung open.  The gun tip shone like a brilliant ring from the kitchen light.  Between the slats, Simms could clearly see the militant head covering and the dark eyes of the man peering from behind it as he searched through the cabinet.

He felt safe.  No one knew about this cubby hole he’d claimed as his personal hiding space as a child.  It was virtually unseen from the searcher’s viewpoint.  All the same, he didn’t breathe at all until the professional was satisfied with his sweep of the pantry interior and closed the door behind him.

Things sound so much clearer in the dark.  He listened as they finally left the house.  Fifteen minutes or so later, the engines of the all terrain vehicles faded into the distance.  He was covered in sweat which stuck him to the walls that concealed him.  Still, he waited a good twenty minutes longer before he opened the slat and poked his head out of the pantry door.  He breathed deeply, then listened intently for sounds in the house, any sound.

It was silent.

The soft squeak of the pantry hinge put him on edge as he slipped back into the kitchen and dropped to the floor.  He skidded on knees over to the window.  The vehicles were gone.

Black and green liquid dripped from underneath Emmett’s truck, pooling onto the yard, beneath it.  He could smell gasoline.

‘Damn.’  They cut the hoses and the fuel line.

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