My first romance e-book.
You can't lose!
Less than $2 for over 100 pages of a spiritual romance www.amazon.com/dp/B07226FRDK.
The lady on the cover is my friend, the singer, Janey Kirk.
Nerja is a 5-star rated book on Amazon but can be bought from Draft2Digital www.draft2digital.com/book/32129 too.
The sequel Glacier of Death is only available on Draft2Digital www.draft2digital.com/book/32135 .
The first is more of a spiritual story; the sequel is a straight action read.
There is more than religion to this story.
My story disqus.com/home/discussion/channel-indieworld/god_walks_these_dark_hills_part_2/ on Disqus has another page or two added each week, so if you want a free read, help yourself.
The last of my old files.
From next week, the serial disqus.com/home/channel/indieworld/topics/the-word/ on my channel on Disqus will not be copied from old files, so who knnows where it will lead? Not me.
If you are wondering about the sequel to my romance story, let me give you an update - it has been shelved indefinitely.
Despite my best efforts and at significant cost, the opening book in the series never took off, so there is no point in continuing the story of Kim and Adrianna.
This is the third large book I wrote, and the third consecutive failure, in my world that means it is over.
A Fantasy romance
For now, this will be an online read, I am yet to decide whether it is worthwhile to bring out more e-books.
This is the opening chapter to my new fantasy story.
From his demeanor, it's hard to see what this man did to the city of Meldritch. The once thriving city now lay in ruins, their demise was brought upon them by their desire to appease the man who stood at the city gates.
He was not rich or powerful. To look at the poor wretch, you would imagine he’d had a hard life, for he was thin with broken teeth and unkempt in his appearance. When he spoke or sang, his words and music gripped the imagination of the people like a fever. His words and music could drive ordinarily sane people to do anything to stop him from leaving. When he entered Meldritch - as he had many cities before - the people had no idea what they had let enter their village.
To the world outside, he was no more than a wandering scribe, trying to buy a meal and a place to rest by telling stories. On his departure, he left in his wake a city dazzled by his stories of far-off lands, but he had an agenda that nobody knew about until it was too late to do anything. Like all things, once he’d had his pleasures, he left; leaving behind a trail of misery and disgust.
For a while, everything had appeared pleasantly joyous as the man spread his fascinating stories and ate and drank freely. By all the reports, you’d expect the man to be of great stature and strength, but the opposite was true. Strength and size were not his powers. His powers came from his ability to capture your soul with his words. Tales from enchanted lands flowed from his dry lips like leaves of dying trees. His audiences grew with each telling, as did the value of the stories. With his stories, he earned enough to pay for a small meal and a drink for the two companions. The time being the late Fall, the town’s people begged the stranger to stay, but he’d tired of their company, and all he had to say was, “The land calls me to walk a new path.” The first falls of early snow chilled the earth, and the fruits had long gone from the trees and hedges. The man stood at the gate and steadied himself for the journey ahead. With a last glance to the city he was leaving, he walked out of the gates, and sneered under his breath, “They'll never learn, Drux.”
Following in his master’s footsteps was Drux - a large dog - wherever Baal Korax went, Drux was close to her master's heel. Nobody was sure how they’d crossed paths; some say Baal had rescued Drux from a freezing cavern; others will tell you that Baal raised Drux from a cub. Baal believed that Drux was the last of the Wolfen who once roamed the forests and hills. Baal had walked many paths over many hills, and he'd never come across any other wolfen or heard talk of any clans living in the areas.
Like Drux, Baal had a distant past that eluded memory. The past was so much a blank to him; Baal had no ideas where to call home, or when he came into the world. All Baal could say is that the only life he recalled was a traveling scribe. The man didn’t bother much about his past, to him, the road in front was all that mattered, and for now, the way led to the high ranges and the place they called home. “Come, Drux,” he called as man and beast left the sight of the city, “It won’t be long before you can return to your true form,” the man said as he ruffled the dog’s messy mane.
The two travelers took to the open road and left the city in their past, never to return, for that would be to tempt fate. Baal had spent most of his life on these roads and never been back to any village or city. The only place he returned to was his shack, every winter.
“We need to cross the ridge before the heavy snow comes, or we’ll not see our home until the early Spring, Drux, my old friend,” he said to his companion as they made their way to the footpath that led to the hills. At this time of year, only the foolhardy took the roads to the high mountains, unless they had a reason. In Winter, the supplies came along the lower path; they made an extra day, but those roads are safer at this time of the year. The dog looked to the hills that lay ahead and gave his tail a wag, to show she agreed with her master. The man and his companion started their long, cold walk to the mountain range ahead, and with hearts full of thoughts of the road, and bellies full of the most exquisite food they set off on their journey.
Baal’s hide thigh boots kept some of the winter's cold from the snow from chilling his feet, but he knew they needed to keep moving to reach shelter so that Drux wouldn’t get too cold, for ahead of them lay a long journey.
The snow-covered landscape made for a beautiful view as the pair climbed higher, but the knee-high drifts made walking tiresome for Baal. He glanced back, and seeing Drux begin to shiver and struggle; he retraced his steps to his friend, "Come, I'll carry you from here. It isn't far, and we'll be in the warm soon, my friend."
The dog looked up at her master with a sad longing in her eyes and gave a weak grin. There were times when she'd happily have ran ahead of Baal, but lately, Drux had taken to keeping in step with her master.
Baal walked the short way back to his friend and heaved her tired body onto his shoulders, "We'll need to pick up the pace. I feel the chill in the air getting colder on my old bones, and that means a heavy fall is on the way."
Being careful to tread in his previous steps, Baal began the climb to the old shack they called home. The climb wasn't long, but with the cold, and feeling tired, Baal struggled with the rise, "I don't remember it being this hard last year, Drux," he muttered as he trudged the sharply rising hill. It was some minutes before the hut came in sight, "Here we are, home for the Winter. It won't be long, and then you can stretch out again."
The wooden hut didn't look much from the outside, but it kept the worst of the winter winds and snow out, and that's all the man and his dog needed. During the Spring and Summer months, they'd built a store of fruits from their journeys across the ranges, now is the time to make the meals that would sustain them, until their next trip.
The small hut lies hidden from sight below the ridge lines of the nearby hills unless you know where to look it's easily missed - even Baal lost sight of the cabin once or twice on his return.
Being careful of the drift above the door, Baal kicked the door open. He watched as the snow slid off the roof, and waited for the last flakes to float to the ground, and then he stepped over the doorstep, "Here you are," he said as he laid Drux on a bearskin, "You rest for a while, and I'll start the fire. We'll be warmed through shortly, Drux." Drux looked up from the floor and wagged his tail, and then he laid his head down and went to sleep as Baal went outside to the log pile.
Baal stepped outside and noticed some paw marks that he didn't recognize, and for him, that was odd as he had got to know all the prints of the animals in the area.
Baal glanced at the sets of paw prints in the snow around the stack, many of them were easily recognizable, but among them was a sect he'd never seen before. "Hmmm, I wonder who you are?" he muttered as he looked in the direction the prints were heading, "I thought I knew all my winter guests, but your mark is new to this area."
Baal eyed the trail of tracks leading to the hillocks surrounding his home," We're here for you, my friend if you choose our company. I hope you have somewhere safe to hide and stay warm," he muttered into the wind that drove the snow. He wasn't in the cold long before he could feel his face tingle with the bite of the wind, "I must be getting old; there was a time when I enjoyed the cold bite on my face, now I want the warmth of the fire," he whispered.
Baal picked the logs for the fire from his pile and began to walk back to the cabin on his way he glanced at the trail, as far as he could tell there was no sign of blood. So He was lead to assume that the creature wasn't hurt - that didn't mean it wasn't in danger - in the depths of the forest there are many creatures unknown to man. Most of these animals Baal gave a wide berth.
From a child, Baal heard stories of creatures that could control their shape, strange as it sounded, he had never questioned these tales. The people of his tribe were not driven to make stories up, more than likely they related their experiences in stories. The stories of these creatures get passed from generation to generation, and with little change, or embellishment, only the people changed as the new generation saw what their family had seen in the years past.
As he looked at the rim of the nearest mound, he thought "Somewhere out there sits a new friend, or maybe many friends. I can't force them to come to me, but I won't drive them away as the people in the villages do. In a way, I am like them, only, seeking no company other than my company and wary of strangers prying into my life. "
He couldn't know but Baal was confident that dark eyes were watching from the hills around him, something in his soul made him aware of another's presence. If he didn't know who they were, one thing was sure, and they wouldn't attack until they'd found out as much about him as was possible from scouting the woods. There was little he could do but wait for what was going to unfold to unfold at its pace, so he walked back to the cabin and with a final glance towards the hills, he eased the door open.
On the floor in front of him lay Drux, his friend was completing the changes from Wolfen to human and revealing the gorgeous young lady who was inside the body of a young wolf. Donning a robe that lay on the floor beside her, Drax said, "Close the door, please. Now I am in human form I can feel the chills of the winds more. I think I know what kept you, you saw the tracks at the back of the house and wondered who made them. In my other form, not only did I see the tracks before you, but my sharp sense of smell told me that our visitor is not alone. I sensed about 20 others out there. They won't attack, even though they have the numbers to overrun us, of that I can assure you."
Baal glanced at the beautifully, lithe body before him, and then replied, "How can you be sure?"
Drux gave a wink, to acknowledge that Baal appreciated her new form, and then continued, "The creatures out there are cold, hungry and far from their hunting lands."
Baal walked to the window and looked out at the mounds of land protecting his cabin from the worst of the winds, "Can you tell if they're Wolves or Wolfen, Drux?"
Drux smiled sweetly, and replied, "I have no doubt they are Wolfen. If my senses are correct, they belong to the Drassian clan."
Baal smoothed his beard with his left hand, and then replied, "I thought the Drassian clan was driven to extinction over a hundred years ago in The Great Wolfen Hunt."
Drux sighed, and replied, "That is the legend, the facts are not right. All they did was go deeper into the forest than any living thing has been. For this group to come out in the open, something bad is happening in the woods. Nothing since the hunt has driven the clan to hunt in the open, and here they are now, in the open."
Being a man of the woods, Baal didn't like the idea of shooting animals for no reason, but a pack of wolfen on the hunt was not something he had thought of coming across. In all his years of traveling, he had never heard of any stories of wolfen packs roaming the countryside; usually, the people in the city left a few sheep loose to maintain the balance; for the pack to keep the pack from wandering from their home. Wandering meant something was wrong in the woods, and whatever it was, the creature was forcing the wolfen to break unwritten codes that are something they would never do willingly. To violate the laws, meant bringing death to the pack, or at least a war with humans. He stood at his window looking at the snow, and he wondered what their plan was? Would they wait it out until they had no choice but to attack, or would the pack attack as the light faded, and they had the advantage of night vision to aid their attack? Restlessly, he fiddled with the latch of his rifle and looked for his store of rounds. Baal realized he couldn't hold out long if the pack attacked, so he had to make the first shots count and hope the wolfen would reconsider the attack to maintain the group's survival."
.My final book.
That is correct, after this book www.amazon.com/dp/1975973992, I won't be doing any more for sale. I've had a few ups in the last decade, but far too many downs to consider continuing writing, even though a sequel for this book has been asked for, there is so little interest online it isn't a viable option.
A big gamble.
I realize that trying to get published by a Christian Fiction publisher is going to restrict my sales opportunities, but being a smaller field than romance increases my chance of getting my book www.amazon.com/dp/B075BJH2D2 published.
I am taking a big gamble here, but I have the faith that it will pay off for once.
A short story about being disabled.
This short story is the end of a series I wrote last year about being disabled; if anyone is interested I can dig out the other stories.
The character Alec is based on my life as a disabled person.
Alec Waldron woke from his sleep aching; his tired eyes looked around at his surroundings.
The only thing he recognized was his friend, Dave Merrick. He asked his friend,"Where am I, Dave?"
Dave smiled and replied, "You're in St. Clement's Hospital, Dave. You've been unconscious for a day."
"Yesterday, I phoned you on your home phone and got no answer, so thinking you had gone for a walk I called your cell phone; when I got no reply on that either I got worried and visited you. It's a good thing I did, when I let myself in with the key you gave me for emergencies, I found you on the floor with a head wound. I phoned for the ambulance, and they brought you here. Do you have an idea what happened?"
Alec tried to think back to the day, but all he had was a vague memory of getting out of his chair for some reason. "No, all I recall is getting up from my seat, probably to make a cup of tea; the next thing I remember was waking a few minutes ago. Thank you for calling to see if I was okay, Dave. I gave you the key hoping this would not happen, but thinking it would occur someday."
"I know. I was hoping never to use it, but like you, I knew the situation with your disability was getting worse, and one day I would need to use the key. The doctor said the injury isn't severe and you should be out in a day or two. Their primary concern is your eyes appear to lose focus now and again at random times. But, they tell me that is to be expected for a few more days as your mind regains control of your eyes."
As Alec tried to think what had happened and what was to come, a nurse said, "Visiting hours are over, for now, Mr. Merrick, you can return later."
Dave smiled at the nurse, and commented, "Thank you." Dave turned back to speak to Alec and said,"See you then."
Alec tried to raise himself in the bed but he was aching too much, so he replied weakly, "Thanks for everything, Dave."
Dave smiled and shook Alec's hand as he replied, "Glad to be there for you, what are friends for?"
Alec watched as Dave walked out of the ward and down the corridor, then he asked the nurse, "How bad am I? In the last few weeks, I noticed my health is getting worse. So I have prepared myself for bad news."
The nurse smiled then commented, "You'll be fine Mr. Waldron, all you had is a bad fall, but you can't go back to your flat to live on your own again. We need to know if this happens again that there will be someone there for an emergency."
Alec wiped his forehead, then commented, "On my laptop, I made a list of sheltered housing projects in the area that I like. If I could have the computer the time has come to turn a realization into a reality."
"If you are checking them out, I assume you realized that you wouldn't be allowed to wander off as you used to do. From what Mr. Merrick was saying, you used to go for long walks to get some air."
"Yes, I had come to that conclusion. But, this year, I haven't had the opportunity to get out as often as I'd like. If I get out once a month, I was doing well; so not going out is not an issue for me to contend with as those days are long gone now. If I can have my books, DVDs, and my laptop, I'll be fine. I don't need a lot to stay happy at my age. Besides, I have my memories of last year to keep my mind relatively active."
The nurse bent over to smooth the bed and replied, "Most people would break down if they would have limited mobility, but you are so calm, what is your secret?"
Alec smiled, then continued; "I have no secret. I've been fighting this day for twenty years, knowing one day it would come. Some people think of me as an inspiration and a fighter. I think of myself as a guy who is like a punch-drunk boxer who didn't know when to take the count until it's too late. I was never going to going to capitulate to my disability until I had no choice. That's why I didn't class myself as disabled until a few months ago when I could no longer walk without severe pain. I wasn't macho not calling myself disabled; I just thought that if I could walk, even slowly, then I am not disabled."
"Well, I'm sure in your new residence you'll make friends soon. You are a gentle person from what your friend told us."
"I try to be, but there are times when I'm my own worst enemy. At those times, it is best to let me be."
"Believe me, we all get days like that, Mr. Waldron. Your friend told us you used to be a writer in the past."
"Yes, the operative words there are used to be. Since my wrist problem has worsened, I find typing is becoming harder, and more painful. Plus, my enthusiasm waned as the readers left. After all, what is an entertainer if he has no audience? I find it hard to imagine that I once wrote an award-winning book or a highly sought-after series of science fiction stories these days, but it's true; I was once a bestselling writer, all that is history. Recently, I have moved to writing Christian fiction romances because I got tired of seeing book covers with half-naked couples on to sell feebly written plots that revolve around sex. I was thinking of venturing into fantasy stories as I acquired some gorgeous images of fighting women from a friend that could kick a new series off for me."
The nurse smiled and replied, "If your science fiction success is a guide, I look forward to reading your fantasy stories."
This song inspired the article
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil.
At the end of the second book in the Chronicles of Mark Johnson series www.amazon.com/dp/B00BO04Y20, Mark was heard chanting an eerie version of the well-known Biblical verse.
Whereas the Biblical text goes on "for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Mark's version ended with the eerie threat, "For I am the meanest son of a bitch in the valley."
The second series of stories were written during a very bleak period for me, personally, and this shows in the texts of the stories. The stories were getting darker toward the end of this book. To the extent that some of my friends who read the stories on a weekly basis - as I wrote them - thought not only that I was going to kill off Mark, but that my sanity was in question.
To set the scene - Mark had found out the lady he thought loved him was an evil witch and had lured her to the spot where she had previously, in a moment of extreme terror, expressed her "supposed" love to him.
Now, the boot was on the other foot as he had beaten her to within an inch of her life, and left her to face unspoken of demons. But, even at this stage, he remained a gentle man and told her there were supplies in a cave close by if she could get there.
What scared his friends was not what they'd witnessed in his controlled revenge on Annette, but what he was prepared to do to cleanse his spirit of her presence. In his words; "I've beaten her in this realm, now I need to defeat her in her realm. I have no idea if I can beat her but I'll die trying."
Knowing Mark as they used to, this new Mark was somebody nobody existed, they realized he was willing to do ANYTHING to get rid of the evil presence, even if it meant losing his soul and not coming back to them.
As worrying was the thought if he did come back, how would he be affected by the war in the other realm? Would they see the old Mark again? Who knows?