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In 5 days, I leave the mountains for a week long recuperation in Porto Vecchio
Authors Blog
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In 5 days, I leave the mountains for a week long recuperation in Porto Vecchio
I feel like I have stepped into a Lord of the Rings world. The corsican mountains are other worldly. Jagged peaks that retreat behind raging mists. I feel a Corsican rebel character forcing it’s way into my next book. Gotta figure what the link is. Maybe an ancient templar code kept hidden in a rough mountain refuge?
I literally kept the image of John Brennan in my mind when writing the character of Urizen in my book Wrathful Empathies, The 2nd Raid on Harpers Ferry.
How else do you convince people that an old white guy can be scary, ruthless and capable of cold blooded violence…. Well, it is not a stretch to imagine him in countless chapter scenes acting out the worst amoral orders of the Authority.
This is a snapshot of my website visitor statistics. I thought Google had created a Great Wall that sealed off China’s internet from the rest of the world? If so, that would mean the “visitors” from China to my author’s blog must be from the communist government? Or, my message has reached dissidents within that prison state that are risking everything to view my posts.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
When I lived in Berryville Virginia, I use to go for long runs from my rented farmhouse down a series of rural lanes that intersected countless cattle and horse pastures, as well as, seasonal crop fields and even a few patches of isolated woods. Eventually, I would end up at the Shenandoah River. Turning either North or South, I would run along its banks for miles. In one particularly remote section of the lane, I would glance at this gap in the two fence lines. Most people would probably never think twice about this gap but my imagination was fired by it. To me it was not a sign of dilapidation in need of maintenance an aging farmer had yet to notice. No, it was an passageway intentionally created by a secret rebel group that transited hidden across the area. I imagined a series of such openings following a barely visible path running along its own subversive concourse. I was sure that if I waited there long enough, I would see a world weary insurgent defiantly trespass its intended restriction. No, it was not merely a hole in the fence line. I was sure of that.
My book “Wrathful Empathies, The 2nd Raid on Harpers Ferry is fundamentally about good versus evil, freedom versus enslavement and what happens when people finally resist an intolerable oppression. Forget the fake resistance movement we see today from the left. It is manufactured by secret hands of the Authority. I am talking about rebels in the mountains and forests who go deep underground. They fight from the shadows, appearing like heroes of ancient lore when critical times call for dangerous actions. These warriors are multi-generational. Their sense of liberty is inherited through a bloodline. I strongly believe that another such episode of John Brown’s actions are building like an underground volcano. The below poem and image capture their dilemma and subsequent outcome of what comes next. Sensing an existential annihilation, their violent reaction will result in the birth of a terrible new creature. If you want to know how it all ends, read my book. If you already feel a dark sense of apprehension, at least you are aware of the approaching danger…