This was posted a few months ago but was hacked off my FB Page...Its the lead into the Book Deep Cover Shallow Graves, which some asked me to repost: CHAPTER ONE A SICK MANS DREAMS BY THEIR DEEDS YE SHALL KNOW THEM After the explosion and the debris and smoke had cleared, a ghostly figure, an old battle scared soldier emerged from the burning building. Behind him thick black smoke laced with reddish fingers of fire bellowed skyward. In the distance the sickening sound of battle echoed throughout the ravaged landscape. Horrified. I watched from the mountaintop as the machinery of war slowly crept forward. I watched mechanical monsters with teeth of iron and steel, ravished and devoid the land. I watched mercenaries, those without moral purpose, or country, entered the smoldering town oblivious to the begging children and stumbling elders. I watched as their chariots of steel, one by one, rolled over them. I cried in anger. I beat my fist upon my head as I helplessly watched them die. The old soldier, limping slightly, his gaze fixed solid upon me; tears in his eyes, approached. He called out to me. I waved. He cautiously came forward. His hair, face, and hands were badly burned. His uniform in rags ripped apart by flying shrapnel hung in tattered shreds upon his frail body. The bomb blast—having vaporized the nearby gun crew killing four of his comrades—was now a soldier’s memory. As he approached, I noticed four golden feathers and an old battle worn sword in his hand. The sword’s steel blade caught the sunlight, and through the smoke and haze it shimmered like quick silver. The old warrior called out to me again. His voice weaker than before, but still commanding: “Old Black Knight, Yes. You! Ancient One! Come fly with me and I will make thee an eagle with golden wings—a leader of many nations—and a deadly scorpion to all those who deny thy dominion.” He threw his head back as if beseeching some compassionate god and then shouted loudly. “ Come! Ancient One. Hurry! Our time is SHORT!” He tried to hand me something. “Here! Take my sword and guard my fortress— Fly my Banners high— And with Heavenly Angels at our side, and this ‘Sword of Truth’ waving proudly, we’ll once again sail upon those fierce tropical winds. Together, sitting there in our old dilapidated cockpit, we’ll again challenge a host of worldly gods. We’ll scatter them and their bastard children to the four winds. We’ll destroy their wicked leaders and all those who lead good men astray. Once again we’ll sit proudly, as others have, in that worn.., blood stained cockpit. Flying high above cotton like clouds we’ll again laugh at them as we toast the fruits of hell. Together we’ll breach their gates forcing their wicked to flee—leaving their children to be sacrificed to games of glee”. “ So come, ‘Ancient One’, I beg. Here take my sword. Come fly with me once again, I plead. Here! There is not much time.” He extended his hand to me, but his body was slowly dissolving. Vanishing. Disappearing right before me. I watch helplessly as the old soldier drifted away. Soon he was lost within the haze and fog of war, lost somewhere within that valley below. He was gone. However, his battle worn sword, ‘The Sword of Truth’ he had left at my feet. Bewildered, I looked around the ravished landscape. Cautiously I watched from the mountaintop and then asked myself, “Was he gone?” Really gone? Or was he still out there somewhere in the shadows watching me? Just waiting—watching and wondering? Soon day became night. I had again seen within this day the ugliness of war. I had tasted its bitter fruit once before, long ago. Yes. I had witnessed the horror and death created by a nation at war. I had walked among the smoldering buildings— seen the dead children— the animals— and all the other mangled casualties of war. I looked around again, expecting to see the soldier, but all I saw before me was a smoldering ravaged landscape filled with death and destruction. I looked down in shame. I noticed the old soldier’s sword laying at my feet”. Confused. I turned and looked around the area. Was he really gone.., or was he still out there somewhere watching me? Was he secreted somewhere out there in those dark shadows, smiling, just watching and waiting.., wondering what I would do? I glanced down at the sword. Was it real? Should I pick it up? If I did where would it lead me this time? What new adventure for me would it unlock? What wondrous powers would it release? I wondered. I smiled. I challenged myself. I laughed— Then I reached for the weapon.” *** I stopped typing and put the computer in ‘sleep’ mode, then looked up from the desk and out the window into he flat gray light of dawn. I had been sitting all night at this rickety old desk, writing, but not knowing if I had written anything of substance, or not. Doctor Yancey told me during our one of our therapy session. “You might not have a best selling novel, but your attempt to write one would, I believe, be damn good therapy for you”. So with that in mind, I bought a computer and a book for Dummies. How to use a computer, and another book. How to write a book. And now by definition. ‘I are a writer’.
Posted on: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 04:01:48 +0000
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