A Novel for our troubled Times AND ‘A beautiful Love Story to shade some of our Realities…
Year of the Covid-19 Pandemic!
A man is presumed dead., left in a ditch by the side of a-State-road near Scottsdale, Arizona, badly beaten, with two bullets in his body…
This scenario begins THE POWER MERCHANTS, a book that explores political intrigue and malfeasance at the highest levels of our Federal Government, and the sexual appetites of a billionaire who seduces under-age prepubescent girls for his evil pleasure and to curry favor with some highly placed politicians…
“The Power Merchants” is also a beautiful love story that ‘Romance genre’ readers will find pleasure in watching how it all unfolds…
Plus, there is actual truth in this fictional narrative that encompasses some of the events shaping our world today, certainly not the least of which is the Corona Virus Pandemic and the new policies set in place to fight this juggernaut, some people feel are corrupting our civil liberties…
This is a fast-paced novel that deals with the issues of today, the economic spillage from the pandemic that is affecting every major country in the world…
This novel will keep your interest as you follow the good and bad characters that are on display in “The Power Merchants” – yes, it’s fiction but it smacks of so much truth…your enjoyment is guaranteed in reading this finely crafted literature…
In present time Blake Fielding’s life changes forever after a smash-up on a Phoenix freeway. At the hospital he is given pain medication, and strange things begin to happen…he experiences a ‘time travel’ episode back to 1838 to one of history’s greatest despicable acts – ‘The Trail of Tears’. Back in present time Blake will find the woman of his dreams, find power and money, be involved in a murder, and live some unforgettable moments…both eerie and poetically divine. It is an exciting and beautifully written book – a love story for the ages, plus a whole lot more… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.
A book inspired from the unimaginable horror and murders by a Colorado man of his wife and two small daughters…sentenced to ‘Life’ in prison – a ‘life’ imagined by these humble words.
In the pre-dawn hours of August, 2018, a narcissistic, sociopathic father/husband brutally smothered to death his 4-year-old and 3-year-old daughters and his wife who was 18-weeks pregnant, after announcing he wanted a divorce. They argued. He choked his wife in his rage, and the 4-year-old daughter walked into the master bedroom as the husband was wrapping ‘Mommy’ in a sheet for easier carrying her to his pick-up truck. The father then killed his two daughters, drove them to an oil field, buried the mother in a shallow grave, and dropped the daughters into separate crude oil tanks… He then went to work and had coffee with his co-workers. These 36,000+ words cover the horrible homicides, and the narrative covers fictionally the murderer’s life in prison… He is serving a life-sentence.
Three young businessmen find much more than their special deep-sea love of fishing for Grouper and Marlin can bring. This ‘Science Fiction’ adventure brings them to a fateful place in their successful lives when a classic clash of ‘good and evil’ empowers them with a special civic responsibility that can win the battle but lose their lives. This fascinating Sci-Fi story has all the reader might want in a thrilling race against time and a villainous ‘Satanic Group’ set to bring a great nation to its proverbial knees. If you like ‘edge of the seat’ thrills, patriotic heroes of the first order who will fight until the end protecting their faith and the sovereignty of the land they hold dear, this novel will be an exciting escape for those who enjoy. The reader will also find some of the scary elements of our too current political unrest…
Please enjoy the read and leave a book review if you are so inclined…book reviews are the authors’ favorite gauge for further writing.
Amazon.co.uk – UK -https://www.amazon.com/Serpent-Rock-Sci-Fi-Battle-Between-ebook/dp/B083YR8DT8/ref=sr_1_4?dchild=1&keywords=serpent+rock&qid=1617399203&s=books&sr=1-4
A Combo of Action and Love! A handsome internet ‘whiz’ is hired by a global leader in the ‘Information Industry’. Scott Mahlon attends his first company ‘Social Event’ in Dallas Ft. Worth, meets and falls immediately in love with a lady he declares the most beautiful creature his eyes have ever befallen. Scott Mahlon’s fast entry into ‘Love’ lasts all of six and one-half hours before tragedy hits…From there, Scott Mahlon faces inner demons never before encountered. His dream job, his first REAL LOVE, his career dreams all come ripping through his mind like cymbal clashes, and his life in Texas begins under dark gray skies… There is murder. There is a ‘sex ring’ operation. There is a corporate puzzle that Scott and his newfound friend and detective, Bonnie Boone, must figure out together, lest the person and/or persons trying to kill Scott are successful. There is so much more in this romantic thriller, a page-turner mini-epic that blends genres to make this novel an incredible and exhilarating experience. You, the reader, will not be disappointed in this wonderful foremost story of love. Down the evil corridors of despair, murder, sex-rings, will Love win the day? Read this beautifully written book and live in the story, love and hate the characters you meet therein… AND, please, leave a review of your read. Thank you.
A novel inspired by true events but fictionalized in its narrative…Some strange criminal elements are at work in the small town of Mackland, PA: a Mackland patrol officer is ambushed and murdered in 2013; a mother and common law wife goes missing in 2015; the missing woman’s father is killed in a suspicious hunting accident in 2016 -was he getting too close to some truths about his daughter’s disappearance? a mother and daughter are brutally murdered in 2014 – the mother’s & daughter’s throats are slashed, then shot separately in their bedrooms (the daughter went to high school with the missing woman’s daughter); at least two drug gangs operate in the small town, brazenly attacking citizens and bragging about bigger crimes they’ve committed…there’s more, and the town has only 11,000 + population.* Amazon Universal BUY SITE:mybook.to/B00BRBRH02
Hammer’s Holy Grail
Love – Faith – Hope = War – Redemption –
This is a story of love and redemption! Wesley Walton is a star-quarterback for the Grand View University Grinders. His junior high school girlfriend, Wilma, is a cheerleader and Wesley’s forever love…no doubts about their lifetime commitment. Wesley not only battles his gridiron foes but an angry father’s Appalachian heritage. His father abuses Wes’ mother and sister on his frequent visits until a fateful hotel room altercation alters the lives of the family. Wesley will meet a man ravaged by war and lost love, a man who has found peace within himself and accepts his spirituality. This man will become Wesley’s friend, mentor, and father-substitute. If you like football, love stories, family relationships, and Christian values, you will find this novel a tribute to Faith and the frailty of ‘Man’! The author enjoyed the writing of this book as he was able to go back in time and pick up some memories to build his characters and plot-line. The result of his efforts will resonate with readers of all genres. Whatever you’re reading, enjoy, and, leave a book review for the author.
It is a sunny Sunday in May, 1993. After church, a mother and her lovely fourteen-year-old daughter walk three miles to a country store for cigarettes and ice cream. It is a walk that members of the family often take in this rural Sulphur Springs Valley area of southeastern Arizona near the Mexican border.
The mother and daughter arrive at the store in a jovial mood, trading pleasantries with customers and the owners… The daughter timidly flirts with a boy from her school. The daughter and mother leave the store in a silly mood, finger painting ice cream on their faces.
They never make it home…
The deputy sheriff of the county believes there has been a ‘stranger abduction’.
There are lots of action, interesting characters, and romance to go with this fictional account of an incident inspired by true events…events that brought tragedy to a shaken family.
It is a piteous whimper, lost in the black void of the narrow closet. The weak and eerie sound of her own voice chills her more fiercely than the cold. The thought brings an aberrant amusement. Her own small voice frightens her!
A sound! A creaking sound. Far off. A footfall! Is it? No. It is not a footfall. It’s just one of the strange noises that comes in the night.
Is it night?
Time is lost. Time is gone from her world like a chunk of youth. The black hole draws her toward an uncertain vortex. She must close her eyes. But, not so tightly… With eyes open, the blackness comes alive with trickery…
Inspired by a California newspaper account some years ago, this novel has truth along with the author’s story line. It is dark and ugly, like the black closet used for punishment by a malevolent mother whose heart and mind can only know evil. It is poignant and sad in the penning, to know that such cruelty and debasement can exist in one family.
From the black closet to fiery murder in the high Sierras, this shocking tale will scar the soul… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.
The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son
(A fictional memoir – 90% + TRUE)
About a Tennessee boy who ate some emotional soup and spent a lifetime trying to digest it. It is the story of a young man leaving east Tennessee and going in search of himself, unprepared for the adult world he is about to enter. Behind him, and, within him, is the emotional debris of his childhood: abuse, broken family, and a substantial part of his soul. Searching for his identity in ‘isms’ and bars, he stumbles, gets up, only to find in the end that legacy and meaning are elusive, a ‘white buffalo’ always somewhere in the shadows.
“The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son” is largely a true story of the author’s own life, a mirror of his past, cracked with the stress of all his memories: a family broken apart by their Appalachian circumstances and the ‘great depression’; a childhood tainted by a father’s abusive nature; an impetuous marriage and a sorrowful divorce; a subsequent search of ‘isms,’ for love and meaning in California and Arizona gin mills; a tableau of horrible events, including a senseless family murder, suicide, and a desert survival.
“The Cracked Mirror – Reflections of an Appalachian Son,” is the story of fictional Prentice Paul Hiller (me), his life, his heritage, his mistakes, the events that have come to shape him, and the demons within that he cannot dispel. Along the way, he gives his passionate and provocative views on criminal justice, love, politics, religion, war, and his favorite writers. In the end he finds a new love, some hope for redemption, some semblance of meaning and legacy.
The author’s own family roots trace back to the eleventh century in Chetwode, a lovely hamlet north of London… 5-Star reviews on Amazon. Amazon Universal BUY LINK:mybook.to/B004ZGWQY8
The Reluctant Savage (Embraces the genres of Mystery, Suspense, and Romance)
THE STORY: High school sweethearts, Billy Jay Campbell and Marcie Dangino reunite after many years apart. They discover the fire of their young love still glows brightly. With the Air Force behind him, Billy now works as an investigator for a law firm,
Two problems threaten to spoil his homecoming. Marcie is now married to a junior partner at Clarkson and Dangino, a firm that has occasionally employed Billy for their investigative work. The second problem occurs when Billy’s close friend and boss is murdered.
The Reluctant Savage follows a mystery that connects greed, murder, romance, and a love triangle.
A Phoenix, AZ entrepreneur and an ad agency director fall in love in a most unusual way. Their quickly budding relationship is interrupted by sibling clashes, an out- of control gambling addiction, a senseless murder, a grand matriarch’s secret that will ultimately cause unintended emotional chaos and disorientation. This is a book that will draw the reader into the story and compel them to stay glued until the end. The gripping climax to PHOENIX FIRE is powerful, and tissues are recommended. Treat yourself to a marvelous romance, mixed with some suspense and a desert odyssey to save one’s soul. A truly great read… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.
What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale (A Non-Fiction Memoir)
A non-fictional memoir that covers the author’s time in East Tennessee and his whirlwind education in the big world of neon lights, gin mills, pretty ladies, acting, television, stage, and film. It is also a book that takes a remarkably honest look at some mistakes and triumphs. It is a story that has depth beneath the glitter of shiny piano bars and lovely women, beneath a family disconnect and sorrowful musings. The book reveals the author’s relationships in his life, the lamenting moments of despair and loneliness, the never-ending search for meaning, his faith, and the brutal assessments of who he really is. It has the family disconnect, even murder and suicide, and there is always a candor that is both refreshing and shocking in its self-analyses. In the end, it is likely a bio not so different from everyman…just changes in circumstance and event.
These six books are personal and special to the author, particularly Books 1, 4, and 6 – “An Arizona Tragedy”, “Pueblo del Mar,” and “A Common Evil”. In fact, my personal life was emotionally touched by one of the victims and prompted me to write about the various cases involved…
These books were inspired by actual crimes, and it seemed to me best to present the books in a ‘first person narrative’.
Please enjoy the ‘reads’ and leave Amazon ‘book reviews’ if it is convenient for you.
My best wishes to all readers…
NOW, THE SIX BOOKS:
An Arizona Tragedy
– Inspired by true events – Many years ago, a lovely actress friend of mine was brutally murdered in the desert northeast of Phoenix, Arizona. She was a young mother of two children, a legal secretary for two of my attorney buddies, and she was responsible for my acting avocation — we had the same great agent in Scottsdale, Bobby Ball. She had her life in front of her with all the dreams most of our young generation had at the time, but her biggest dream was to have someone to love and a home for her family…
(You are never far from our thoughts, dear lady, and we pray that justice will eventually prevail.)
Meet Bailey Crane, a transplanted son of the south. Bailey is an auxiliary detective, has a soft rep business that brings in easy money, and he’s a part-time actor. Bailey’s got golf, love, money, friends, a hearty life, and he carries an amusing personality with him wherever he goes. He’s a rowdy, good looking rogue with a lot of that southern charm. His heart and his emotions are in his eyes and on his lips … he is not reluctant to share his world.
The young actress/model is brutally murdered in the Arizona desert northeast of Phoenix. The lady is a friend and her homicide begins an adventure for our southern sleuth that takes him down the halls of our nation’s capital where he discovers that fact and fiction are strange bedfellows. Bailey is a marked man, chased by an unknown pursuer with a gun. Wounded, his body battered and bruised, his anger pushes him onward until the puzzle pieces begin to make sense. The exciting climax has a unique twist, and our musing son of the south does not quite know it but the ending is also a beginning… 5-Star reviews on Amazon. AMAZON BUY LINK:
A young woman is murdered in a most gruesome way. The authorities have no leads in the case, and Bailey Crane is sought out by the victim’s desperate mother. She must know the awful truth of her daughter’s death, must come to some semblance of closure. Homicides of young women in other states arouse Bailey’s attention and provide a trail that will lead him to physical and psychological confrontations that will leave his relatively sane world rearranged and shaken. The bizarre conclusion comes in a small mountain town in Colorado. Our always musing southern sleuth will find a very personal and near sacred part of his life finding its own end point. There is emotional pain and there is a new beginning for our endearing Crusader.
“Lake’s face was the face of a memory my mind carried, a face with no discernible sign of hope, a face with no sign of soul.”
This tale begins with a raging warehouse fire that nearly consumes our southern sleuth with the Cherokee blood. A thug arrested in connection to the fire is overheard muttering a cryptic phrase, ‘beware The Brutus Gate.’ The fire and the phrase are the starting point of this story about drugs, murder, rape and political corruption at government’s elite levels.
Bailey Crane and his Phoenix PD buddies chuckle about the pithy ‘Brutus Gate’ remark and the adventure begins. Our Sherlock hero is bounced around by the criminal elements and by his own personal demons of guilt and remorse — all standard fare for the Tennessee man of endless mind queries about his emotions and the state of his life. The action is keen, and the climax comes on an old ranch on the Mexican border just south of Yuma, Arizona.
This is likely a romp you don’t want to miss.
“The Brutus Gate – A Bailey Crane Mystery” is Book 3 in the ‘Bailey Crane Mystery Series.’ Each Bailey Crane book can be read independently of the other. There is the natural progression of the central character in each succeeding book (aging, loves, experiences).
MURDER IN PUEBLO DEL MAR (BOOK 4) – Inspired by true events –
An Arizona wife and mother is murdered while on holiday in Mexico, and her three children find her brutally beaten and slashed body. Bailey Crane, an auxiliary member of the Phoenix PD, is visiting close friends in Pueblo del Mar, and is asked by the local police chief to assist him in building his case against the transsexual lover of the victim’s husband. Bailey’s Cherokee blood comes to an emotional boil when family and friends get caught up in the web of corruption, drugs, and sex. The highly intense climax comes in a ‘Whale Shack’ in the scrub brush and sand near the Sea of Cortez. This tale has the always soulful musings of our southern Sherlock, a chance encounter with a mysterious mystic who shares his thoughts on Time and Place, and fragile nerves that get edgy and frayed. This tale was inspired by an actual murder so
me years ago, and you don’t want to miss it… 5-Star reviews on Amazon.
– Inspired by truth – Bailey’s intent is fun and sun on the beautiful Sea of Cortez, but an old friend’s request for help changes his immediate plans: the Homeowners Association at the lovely Mar y Sol resort is experiencing some financial problems and its treasurer has just been murdered. His friend’s request for assistance leads to some very scary moments for our southern sleuth. Kidnapped twice, battered, bruised, Bailey finds it all in this caper — murder, money laundering scams, and betrayal. There is a man of intrigue that brings another dimension to the story, and the climactic ending to the tale is riveting, bringing with it an emotional catharsis for our hero. Bailey goes through the mazes, eventually finds his bad guys but he is left with the knowledge that friendship can be fragile and tentative.
PASSAGE FROM THE BOOK:
At the beach, he gave the middle-aged vendor his wallet to hold for him, chatted with him for a while in Spanish, got astride the jet ski and slowly moved out to deeper water. He made a few fast figure eights some five hundred yards offshore, allowing himself some final and nebulous act of rebellion, then pointed the jet ski in a straight line toward the distant horizon. He accelerated, and the jet ski thrust forward, spewing up heavy sprays, bouncing on the sea ruts and ripples. The wind screamed and hurled itself at his face and body, his hair flaring out in demonic poses, his wide lips closed tightly against his clenched teeth. On he went toward a horizon that only got farther away. His mind and body worked to keep balance on the jet ski, his heart pounding inside his chest, his mind focused only on the never diminishing line ahead where the sea meets the sky. Something in the water ahead caught his attention, something orange and heavy metal. He gave the jet ski all that the throttle would give and headed toward the orange object.
Just before the jet ski hit the orange metal, his mind projected the picture of a little boy sobbing, standing sad and forlorn in front of an old deserted house. Tears now came in a mad rush to mix with the sea spray and wind and his ending.
On the beach, the vendor could no longer see the Jet ski and he somehow knew that he would never see the man again. With a premonition, the vendor pulled from his pocket the wallet the man had given him. Inside the wallet was a note and twenty-five hundred dollars. The handwritten note read: “Follow these instructions and you will be a very wealthy man. Do with your life and the money what you will. My hope is that you will use the money for good and noble deeds. You will find your ending a much nicer place to be.” Attached to the note was a website address, numbers and password for an online bank account, instructions for redirecting funds, and further linkage information.
The man in soiled clothes looked toward the distant horizon and saw nothing. While the excitement of the moment overwhelmed him, he replaced the wallet and note in his pocket, stood for moments looking out at the sea. An unaccountable sadness overtook him and he wept for the man he would never know.
Former sleuth Bailey Crane and lovely wife Wendy are enjoying their penthouse pleasures until a cartel sting operation at their Mexican resort brings chaos and emotional uncertainty into a blurry reality. Wendy is kidnapped, and Bailey faces the demons running loose in his mind as he struggles with his choices. Also, President of the resort’s HOA, Bailey has not only kidnapping and murders with which to contend, but other problems which add to this suspenseful chapter in his life. The surprising end point brings back to Bailey and Wendy those memories better left in the memory vault.
An exciting, intense thriller in the sand and cacti of Mexico’s Sonora desert by the beautiful Sea of Cortez. This is the final Book 6 of ‘The Bailey Crane Mystery Series’… 5-Star reviews on
Hear me well, naysayers, if your ears are picking up thundering TV trumpet sounds in a false and rah-rah-rah background of joyfully pious, feigned sanity and truth. Yes, of course, my words might titillate, amuse, even, confuse you but they fly in the same wind as that rah-rah-rah TV stuff.
Occasionally, the weather reports are maybe accurate. Our sports events are accurately reported. There is a chance that, while our citizens slept, our US population grew larger and considerably more dangerous with the influx of illegal aliens and cartel members. The count of illegal crossings on our border to the South is now in the millions. Our good and caring government put many of these immigrants on buses and sent them off into cities and states across the United States to establish new and better lives…all free, of course, paid – courtesy of US tax payers.
The House and The Senate apparently play high-stakes poker in their secret hideaways, too busy with rhetoric and bull shit to dig into ‘The Constitution of the United States’ to find solution, to just maybe awaken the ‘Supreme Court’ to action.
The House reps are all dancing to the tunes of ‘Marxist Socialist Creeps’ that want this thing we call Democracy (Freedom, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness) to fade away.
Ah, the leaders, the Wizards of Mumbling and incompetence, before our very eyes, ears, shake us to our core with their brazen incompetence, and steal an election there is no way in hell they could have won.
AND, here’s the thing, these virtual truths by an Appalachian liberty-loving American will not see the light of day…but I’m a little guy with no big audience, just an aching heart and memory of faithful freedom pals in graves all over the world.
Yeah, sure, I know, this is the United States, land of the free, home of the Brave, where free speech is acknowledged …
WHERE THE HELL DID OUR COUNTRY GO? WHERE DID THE GIFTS OF OUR NATION’S FATHERS GO?
If you listen carefully, you can hear Military graveyards trembling in anger and dismay.
Perhaps we are past remedies with the evil purveyors of far-left power now wearing their smiles and clown outfits laced with thievery, the ‘lobby libbers’ paying their ever-faithful government friends to sway this way or that way, funding perhaps the biggest ‘Presidential Election Fraud’ ever to be in the land of our ‘Iffy-Free’ nation. If it was not ‘PEF’ there will be no Moon, no Stars, no Clouds in our skies – just scary blackness. (Just a metaphorical dab of my whimsical side).
Remember, this is just a country boy’s ‘patriotism’ showing a very ugly side…an eighty-eight years-old country boy! But, please, help me to understand WHY summer riots? WHY ‘Critical Race Theory’(CRT)? WHY boy/girl transgender swaps? WHY ‘Defunding Police’? WHY arresting and immediately releasing criminals? WHY deserting our Israel friends and being cozy with China, Iran, Russia, AND, WHAT HAPPENS now in Afghanistan? The huge WHY? WHY are two idiots running our country and allowing millions of illegal aliens to be bused to cities across our country – AND, we pick up the tab, spending trillions of dollars? The BIG MAN has been in Government for near-fifty years, has not distinguished himself in any way – unless you wish to include his plagiarism. He has a Delaware home worth many millions, more millions in the ‘teens’ he doesn’t bother reporting to the IRS because of special-type documents. His son, Hunter, through some devious means is a millionaire and a new ‘artist’ commanding huge amounts of money for his work.
Okay, it is fairly obvious who I am – check the age again, where my political loyalties are, and WHY Marxist dogma across the board will get us to where Cuba is today. Marx and other bored college professors wrote about Marxism and how it should touch about every aspect of our lives. It is all about POWER for the Elites. I am NOT a RACIST and do not believe in the BLM, Anarchists, and the misguided themes of their movements.
For narrative clarity and excellence, please readMark Levin’sNEW BOOK:*****AMERICAN MARXISM*****
If the country goes the way of some of the things mentioned above, I’m good with the boat ride to Hades… Otherwise, I’ll stick around until 2038.
Jean and I were driving to the Napa, California Wine Country, enjoying light conversation, taped music, and an occasional soft touch of endearment via hands or lips. It was our first weekend trip together after a few initial dinner dates and exploratory love episodes. It was a happy sunny Saturday, a clear blue sky, and the promise of taking our relationship to perhaps a more permanent stage. We were a couple filled with the desire to know if we were a true match.
We stopped for a Red Light in a small town. In the light’s left-turn lane, a couple were vividly angry about something, and the man began to throw hard punches at the woman.
Without thinking, I yelled at the man: “Hey, knock it off, Man!”
The man turned quickly and glared angrily at me: “Shut your face, ass-hole!” He turned off his ignition, opened his driver-side door and started to round his car to get to mine.
Jean was scared as I started to get out of the car: “Don’t get involved, please…this could end up badly. Just drive off. Go through the light. No cars are coming either way. Please, don’t fight this guy. He may have a gun – or, a knife. Hurry, please, drive through the light.”
Just as the madman reached for my outside door handle, I sped away and through the light. I could not see the other car in my rearview after turning onto our road route to Napa. Jean and I sat silent for some time.
Jean finally spoke: “I’m sorry, BR, I hate violence. I know you wanted to help the woman, but it’s likely the action you did take cooled him down…”
“I hope so, Jean. That lady was crying, her face already bruised and wet with her tears. I just… Oh, never mind. Hopefully, it was just a spat that will be forgotten soon, and they will have ‘whatever it was about’ out of their system.”
We listened to our musical tapes without a lot of talking the rest of the way into Napa, and I kept checking my rearview mirror for the madman.
The weekend was lovely enough, but there was something hanging in the air that kept it from being all we wanted it to be.
Jean and I saw each other a few more times, but something went missing that we could never quite get back.
Flash Fiction from a true event, by:
BR Chitwood – June 19 2021
Visit my personal Website/Blog – View synopses of my 21 books, 375 blog posts, poetry, and Flash Fiction:
Most people who write and those who wish to write likely know that the libraries of the world are comfortably stacked with the ‘how to’ of creative writing. Writing for years, I guess the thing for me is, I have to do my own struggling, find my own way of saying things with these fingers that dance along the laptop keys.
The question for me is not so much, how successful can I be financially in my writing? (Don’t get me wrong, why would I mind at all cashing a lot of royalty checks!) It has simply been for me more important at this juncture in my life finding out the boundaries and dimensions about where I’ve been, all the bad experiences, all the good, and getting a better idea of who I really am. My books have plots, and they have characters. These plots and these characters serve me and give me a chance perhaps to ‘muse and fuse’, to discover some things about me I never knew. I like to say, ‘Readers can find me on and between the lines of what I write’. It is true for me, and ‘finding me’ between my lines is not always a gratifying view of myself – not that I wish to leave with the reader the impression that I’m an unsavory character, just that I have made mistakes of the heart and mind.
Sure, I want my books interesting enough to be read, enjoyed, and to have people talking about them. The most important thing, though, for me, is being true to me, plumbing my depths, finding the music of my soul, and hoping I discover more of me.
Maybe so. But it has got to be me finding out whether or not I’m any good at this business of writing. I think maybe I am. It’s not that I’m not willing to learn — it’s just, it better be there within me now, this style thing, this appeal to readers, because I’m not necessarily going to find it in the library…been there, done that.
I’m thinking we do it by ‘doing it,’ over and over again… if we’re any good, we need to trust that little voice inside that says we are.
Everyone has to do her and his own thing. I’m old enough to think I’m just as right as some folks who write about writing and maybe too dumb and inflexible to realize I’m singing a song here with a guitar out of tune.
That’s what I’m thinking!
I’ve written twenty books, some inspired by true crimes and beastly appetites of abuse… Perhaps I write in those genres because my own young life was touched by murder, abuse and poverty. So, I write in those genres of Mystery and Suspense, but also in the Romancegenre, Love stories connected to History, and two Memoirs.
My personal Website and Blog features all my 20 books, complete with synopses, and my blog has a near 400 posts, including short stories, Flash Fiction: https://www.brchitwood.com
Please visit my site. Hopefully, you will find my writing interesting.
The world turns its orbits with actions and reactions that are inexplicable to understand for so many of us… Well, it does for me, for I know not what governments might have stored in ‘For Your Eyes Only’ silos, what world secrets they may know we citizens might not.
Now, don’t tune out just yet. It is likely we have stored in our super computers so much big tech knowledge that we have not figured how… to manage it all so well…
Actually, when I cannot fall asleep at night I usually the next day write a post that edifies no one, including myself, filled with southern grits and bacon bits. My good wife listens to my bacon ‘bits’, smiles, nods so sweetly her approval, and suggesting that, perhaps, I should write a more upbeat post. Of course, I should listen to a pretty and smart lady like my wife…she really is. I’m not being gratuitous.
But, hey, I have to be true to my thoughts and emotions. Otherwise, I’ll never know if I’m going to write something earth-shatteringwise and erudite.
Oh, well, think what you will, but it all started early for me as an Appalachian kid with no orderly orientation time for learning about the good stuff in life, hope and understanding. Too much ugly anxiety dwelt within my little universe, a constant and confusing emotional world defined by bitter anger, divorce, crushed economy. The later post-depression and war ‘did a number’ on familyand unity. Also, part of the anxiety and family disunity was Southern Baptist Church services on Sunday…the preacher painted me in his sermons as a sinner – and, I was only twelve years old. So, I was Baptized… More confusion, more restrictions on any kind of good times.
Well, that’s one hell of a preface to the real nuggets in this post – actually, gravels…
After leaving my Mom at home alone and joining the US Navy, the world opened up a bit to me. Life got a bit better, except for thinking about my Mom all alone.
Life got better. It was my goal to put as much into my new life as possible, worked many jobs, read a lot, went to a Pennsylvania college, graduated ‘cum laude’, acted in film and stage productions, modeled…uh, got married a few times… Hey, I never said I got rid of all the Appalachian bull croppy.
I read a lot.
I’ve written a lot – twenty books, over 300 blog posts, and still at it.
Okay, here’s the thing… Is it just me? Or, is the world throwing all this metaphysical madness, these super high-tech giants’ muscle, to overwhelm the populace. Is it all about power? As Metaphysics is a branch of knowledge which studies the meaning of us, humans, of life, contrasted to Christianity and the Religions of the World?
Okay, remember my opening? You can see how easy it is for an Appalachian kid connected to all that ‘Post-Depression’ anxiety crap to find it difficult NOT to write about every nutty event that comes down the pike, to question Religious and Metaphysical reasons for ‘why we are here’.
Now, I’m not going to bring up China’s Gift to the World… (crmfsotw!)
One final and important issue: I am aging, which means I can’t drink whiskey and chase girls anymore. That is most likely the very worst metaphysical menu item that irks me. If there’s a pill for getting young again, send me a sample (Wait, make that, a couple or three bottles of samples…).
Actually, as many as you can spare!
Okay, possibly sort of a nothing gibberish post, but I felt like writing it.
If anyone has some short answers to the Metaphysical menu items, I would be happy if you could share them.
The scowl on the old man’s face, the fierce intensity of his stare, was unsettling to the vain young man waiting in the dimly-lit parlor for his ‘new girl’ college inamorata. Fifteen minutes had passed since the house madam showed him to this huge chair – a stuffed monstrosity that swallowed his body.
Ben Willows was not accustomed to long waits and inconveniences. He was a football star for the Carville Lions, a team destined for the top spot in the Indiana State Finals. Brittany Beale, the ‘new girl’, would learn he was not to be kept waiting.
Willows sent his own scowl back to the portrait hanging over the parlor’s concave fire place…he added some twisted, wide-eyed facial grimaces for added self-indulgence. In a rather common practice among his football friends he extended a rigid right-hand middle finger at the long-haired square-faced man in the painting.
He looked at his wristwatch, shook his head in further disgust and began his habit of pumping his right foot up and down. Eyes fixed on the Parlor portrait, Willows could swear the scowl on the old man’s face had morphed into bulging blood-shot eyes filled with hatred, the wrinkles deeper with hideous hues of darkness and menace. The long hair on the old man’s head looked longer, more unruly, and tinged with a garish dark gray satanic pose. The eyes were near hypnotic with hatred, his ugly scabby lips stretched in gritted madness. With all of this there was a sense of movement to the concave area, like a television screen changing in size.
Was this some fancy ‘motion’ portrait that the electronics companies developed? A new toy to get a rise out of people. Well, he did not find it at all entertaining. It was but a sorry gruesome nuisance. Ben would not be picking up Brittany at this address again. they would arrange to meet elsewhere. He felt a tinge of anger that she would not have told him of this parlor nonsense.
Ben Willows yelled angrily for the house madam but got no reply. He repeated his yelling but deep silence was the only reply. With his long wait, the scowl in the painting was now becoming scary, chilling moments for Willows despite his fearlessness.
Willows felt a numbness settle within his body and he was confused with the building fear and angst he never before had felt. He tried to lift himself from the chair but could not. He felt his body’s desire to move but he could provide no navigational assistance.
He finally felt a looseness come back to this body and he carefully put his hands on the chair’s arms and lifted his body. A small smile came to his face and left quickly when he felt his body slammed back into the chair.
Panic became total with no way for him to control it. The cold sweat over his entire body gave way to uncontrollable relief functions and a feeling of embarrassment that brought tears to his eyes.
“What do you want from me?” he wildly screamed. “What is this? Is it an initiation I’m not aware of? Come on…this is too much. Where is Brittany?” Then, he yelled her name with an anger mixed with pleading.
Music came suddenly to the room, low and foreboding, mixed with shrieking Cello breaks.
Twelve hooded figures of different shapes and sizes dressed in black robes and matching cone hats marched into the parlor and formed a circle around Ben Willows chair.
Willows watched as each hooded person one by one removed something from their attire.
“What’s happening?” Willows squealed.
He was answered with silence.
A circular portion of the tiled flooring slowly sank six feet from Willows’ position. The circular parameter of walls and flooring of the pit was glazed mortar, brick, and metal.
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
The taller hooded figure finally spoke, a small flashlight shining down on some script from which he began to read.
“Ben Willows, you have violated by your past unlawful actions, herein described, our Codified, historic supplements to our special town’s charter and legal summations…”
“Whoa! Hey, I’ve done nothing wrong in Carville. You’ve got the wrong guy…this is crazy. This house is crazy. You robed geeks are crazy. Let me out of here…where’s Brittany Beale? This is her home, right?”
The robed speaker spoke: “Brittany Beale can’t help you, Ben Willows. And, no, this is not Brittany’s residence… Now, unless you want to be gagged, be quiet and listen to the unlawful actions…”
“This is crazy! No! No! I’ve done nothing wrong, and you and your pals here just picked the wrong guy to pull this crap! Now, come on, let me out of here, or there will be bad results for you people…”
“Number Six, please apply the bindings to Mr. Willows…”
As Number Six moved down the short make-shift four-step ladder, Ben Willows met him and tossed him roughly to the pit’s floor. The hooded ones around the upper opening took up spots on the upper rim to stop Willows.
The odds were too much for Willows and he was finally subdued again by two of the larger hooded people.
A booming voice came from the parlor fireplace area. “Bring him to me. Tie him to the post in front of me. Then, all of you leave the premises…”
The Hooded speaker appeared to be leader of the twelve and spoke to the large Satan-like man in the painting: “Ben Willows is by protocol our prisoner, Sir Wainscot. Please allow us to end our session with him. You’ve never interfered with our proceedings before, Sir Wainscot.”
“That is so, but that changes today. All of you! Out of my house now, or face my legendary wrath. You have ten seconds to leave this parlor, and, henceforth, be advised that your special Charter ends as of this moment. Your services, and the stipulations you have all agreed to go with you. You must never speak of this long-run we’ve had together. You will receive no more in compensation and are free to do whatever you wish to do, other than speaking ever of this odd relationship we’ve had through the years…Now, go.”
“Ben Willows, come to the fireplace and we shall have a ‘fireside chat’. Your will is mine, Willows, until I release it back to you after our meeting. Now, do come forward.”
At the fireplace, Willows was told to sit directly in from of SirWainscot. At this point Ben Willows had uttered not a word…to the point he could be bewildered by anything, this day had brought that blessing or curse to him.
The two were silent for some seconds until Sir Wainscot spoke.
“I’ve found myself passing through many clouds today, Ben Willows, and I can easily guess that you have a mind filled with questions and observations…
“First, it is doubtful you have ever talked to a painting or have seen anger spewed from an inanimate object or seen motion and size in the ways you have today – or, for that matter, been accused of matters you knew nothing about (in fact, I stopped the proceedings prior to your hearing of those matters).
“The first cloud I passed through today was some sense of hatred for you and thoughts of how I would unleash my painful ways on you.
“The second cloud was confusion as I oddly began to like you. I always worry to a substantial degree when I face those kinds of weak wayward conflicts. Why did I begin to like you? Multiple reasons, really. I noticed you were in many ways like me.
“The third cloud was watching your moves, your versatility in adverse situations…very appealing, may I say? Very appealing, and much like me. After all, regardless of your perceived mission for the day, picking your girlfriend, I did not expect you, and it started a bit of a fire within me.
“The fourth cloud is the easiest for me to explain, perhaps not in the most satisfying way for the listener… How is it a ‘painting’ image talks and feels emotions?
“We live in a strange and wonderful world, Ben Willows. I lived in a time when important people like me could be forced into an exile of sorts, like, in a painting, to live and function in most ways except for eating – and those nasty bodily functions. I can internally visit all parts of the world without leaving my sanctuary here in this lovely little Indiana town where I am to be through eternity – of course, it was not called Indiana then…it was small waterway on a patch of earth.
“You are a football player, a very good one, I’ve found out. When you leave here in a few moments, I will permit from time to time some memory of us together – perhaps a time when you need cheering up, perhaps a time when love needs a boost, or, any number of things. But, this day, the date, the house, the painting, me, may come by you so fast at times you will think it is some kind of déjà vu…you will wonder why you are seeing a passing face so warped and ugly – but it will be a good memory.
“Finally, I can tell you love and family will come to you and your life will be well spent in works of goodwill and faith. AND, Faith is most important, Ben Willows. There will be many contradiction in life, but allow no one to disburb the position of your Faith.
“There will be those times when we see each other on a street, a bus, a plane, and we will have enjoy the site of one another – it will be a boost to our day and to our lives
“Now, leave me, Ben Willows, and when the evening breeze hits you, you will meet a lovely young lady… Goodbye, Sir Willows!”