Make your own free website on Tripod.com
Blog Tools
Edit your Blog
Build a Blog
RSS Feed
View Profile
« June 2008 »
S M T W T F S
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
8 9 10 11 12 13 14
15 16 17 18 19 20 21
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
29 30
You are not logged in. Log in
Entries by Topic
All topics  «
Author Interview
Blog Tours
Book Review
Book Trailers
Character Interviews
First Chapter
Miscellaneous
Writing Ramblings
Books and Authors
Sunday, 8 June 2008
Talking With Mirella Patzer
Mirella PatzerThe Person:
1.      What three words do you think describe you as a human being?
Kind.  I find it hard to be unkind to anyone.  I care about people, especially those close to me.  My personal motto is Do No Harm.
Intense.  I will work diligently on something until I master it, almost to the point of obsession.  Only then will I move on to something new.  It's been the secret of my success because I tend to throw my passion and energy into a particular task or project or hobby until I've successfully completed it.
Simplicity.  The most important things are my close friends and family.  I don't need fancy clothes or many outings to make me happy.  I love being home with my family.
2.      How do you think others would describe you?
They would describe me as caring and fair.  Throughout my life, those are always what people have said about me.  They are wonderful attributes to be labelled with..  

 
3.      Please tell us what you are most passionate about outside of writing.
Outside of writing, I love to read and cook and bake.  I also love to visit Heritage Park - it is a huge western town in Calgary with authentic historical homes and businesses.  I can easily spend an entire day there.  This year, we'll be buying seasons ticket.   
 4.    Do you have any pets?  If so, introduce us to them.
My first and only pet was a horse named Precious Mahogany.  My husband bought her for me about 20 years ago.  She was also used to teach children how to ride.  She's now retired and lives with a friend of ours in a spectacular pasture between Cochrane and the Rocky Mountains.  I learned how to ride on Precious who is a pure blood American Saddlebred horse.  
5.  What is your most precious memory?
It is witnessing the birth of my little grandson.  It is the only birth I've ever witnessed.  Yes, I have two daughters, but being in labour is vastly different than witnessing an actual birth.  The birth process is truly one of life's most beautiful miracles.   
6.  What is your most embarrassing memory?
I was on a bus once and I got up because my stop was approaching.  As I was waiting at the back door for the bus to stop, the driver suddenly had to swerve and slam on the brakes because a litte dog ran into the middle of the road.  The sudden movement caused me to fall head first into a man's lap.  Let me just say, it was a bulls eye.  Passengers couldn't stop laughing.  I was mortified.  My eyes watered from the impact.  I never even looked to see how the guy fared.  
7.      If you weren't a writer, what would you be doing with your life?
After a 28 year career as a civilian manager with a local police service, I have just retired and am pursuing writing.  But if I could chose another career, it would be to be a flight attendant for an international carrier and I'd want the European routes.  It is the job I wanted to do when I was a young woman, but fate always intervened and I was never able to pursue it.  
 
8.      In two paragraphs or less write your obituary.
With trumpets blaring, Mirella Patzer was called to heaven on _______.
Mirella was the first born child of Italian immigrants.  She spent the first 3 years of her life in Edmonton Alberta and then moved to Calgary Alberta where she was raised.  Her parents struggled to grasp a new culture and language and began to depend on Mirella the moment she learned to read and write.  At the age of 7 she was completing supervisory reports for her father and helping her mother with the banking.   
After graduating high school, Mirella began work at the Calgary Police Service where she did her best to distinguish herself in a meaningful way. She educated herself while she worked.  During her climb she married a "lie guy" (polygraph examiner) and had two beautiful daughters who both decided to surpass their mother's aspirations and go to college. She climbed the career ladder until she banged her head hard against the glass ceiling.  In July 2008, she was able to retire and follow her dream of writing.      
 
There will be no wake or any mumbo-jumbo. Memorial gifts will not be accepted and cards are a waste of money.  
 
May God be with you, Mirella Patzer!

 
Mirella Patzer The Writer:
9.   Can you describe the time you realized you were indeed a "real" writer?
One of the hardest things for me was to begin calling myself an author or a writer.  Those words just wouldn't come, no matter how hard I tried to say them.  Then, my short story, Down Three Steps, was accepted for a Canadian anthology entitled Mamma Mia: Good Italian Girls Talk Back and I became one of 18 Canadian Italian women who contributed to the book.  The book was a Canadian bestseller.  It was then I began to think of myself as an author.    
10.  What is going on with your writing these days?
In typical Mirella fashion, I'm writing two books at once - Orphan of the Olive Tree and A Crimson Mantle.  Both are medieval family sagas. 

11.  What are your future goals for your writing?
My goal is to complete a 3 or 4 book series of the Ottonian Empire which begins with A Crimson Mantle and spans 100 years.  Although it is a family saga, it is about the strong women who wielded their power and love during the 10th century.   
12.  Can you describe a typical writing day for you?
There is no typical writing day for me.  I care for my 2 year old grandson while my daughter is in law school so his powerful little presence often prevents me from my work.  But during nap times and bed times I manage to squeeze in a little writing time.  I also set aside the entire weekend to write - and this means no email and no blogging, etc.  Only writing.  Summer is also coming and with that, my grandson will be out in the backyard with my husband.  So I'm hoping to squeeze in a little more writing time. 
13.  Why do you write?
I write for my love of history and Italy.  I want my readers to learn about some of the famous, strong women leaders of long ago who helped shape the world.  I also write to entertain. To know that I can entertain my readers and provide them a little reprieve from the stressors of daily life gives me great pleasure.  
14.  What writer most inspires you?  Why?
I love Charles Dickens because he is a true master of detail and creating memorable characters. His stories and characters have endured for decades and appeal to generations of readers.  

15,  How do you define your writing?
I like my stories to resemble a roller coaster ride - a little "rough and tumble" with a sprinkling of violence,  the odd and unsual, and passion and emotion.  
16.  In one sentence, what do you want people to say about your writing in fifty years?
I would love it if people simply said my work was "fun".  Pure unadulterated enjoyment.  That would make me very happy. 
Mirella Patzer The Details:
17.  Can you tell us where to find more information on you? Website?  Blog?
I have several sites. 
My author website is http://www.mirellapatzer.com.   
My blog is at http://mirellapatzer.blogspot.com.  I like to post about anything that strikes my fancy.  This blog is usually a mish-mash of topics.  If you want too get to know me a little more, than this is where to go.  
Bloodstone Castle has its own blog at:  http://bloodstonecastle.blogspot.comThe posts on this blog relates to Italy, or the characters, food, etc. and from the Ligurian coast which is the setting of my novel.    
Author cookies is a blog where I feature other authors and their favourite cookie recipes at: http://authorcookies.blogspot.com.
Best of Italy is a blog that indulges my passion for Italy and all things Italian.  It has lots of traffic so have a peakhttp://bestofitaly.blogspot.com
And last but not least, to keep track of all the books I read and review, I own http://historicalnovelreview.blogspot.com  
18.  Is there a place where readers can reach you?
Readers can reach me at:  mirellapatzer@hotmail.com. 

19.  Can you list all your book titles so people can look for them?
All three of my books can be purchased from Amazon. 
Bloodstone Castle
Heinrich the Fowler: Father of the Ottonian Empire
Mamma Mia:  Good Italian Girls Talk Back
20.  For new readers, what can they expect when they read your book(s)?
When you read one of my books, expect to be surprised and shocked.  My characters can be unpredictable and some of the circumstances they find themselves in can be very unusual.  
In conclusion:
21.  Take as much space as necessary to speak to our readers--what would you like them to know about you and your writing?
I love writing stories from the early middle ages.  Bloodstone Castle is a complete work of fiction. It is meant to entertain, to give the reader a fun tromp through the middle ages.  It is a passionate romantic suspense. So if you like reading as an escape, then this is the book for you.   My novels depict my love for history and for Italy.  It is my way of sharing a heritage I am proud of.  If you read it and enjoy it, then I will have achieved my goal.  Thank you very much for your kind interest and precious time in learning more about me.  I love to hear from my readers, so please email me.       

Posted by joyceanthony at 4:01 AM EDT
Updated: Sunday, 8 June 2008 4:12 AM EDT
Post Comment | View Comments (2) | Permalink
Saturday, 7 June 2008
Bloodstone Castle by Mirella Patzer--an Excerpt
Topic: Blog Tours

Also available in electronic format and audio book. ISBN 978-0-9784865-2-5

Prologue Portovenere, Italy 947 A.D. The cold claws of death reached for Vittoria Monterossa, Contessa of Portovenere. In a childbed in the highest tower of Bloodstone Castle, her lifeblood waned. Despite the warm blaze from the hearth, Vittoria shivered. With much toil, she birthed the babe. A hive of activity surrounded her and the small cradle. "Please, let me see," she pleaded. "We must bathe and swaddle the child first, my lady," the midwife declared as she exchanged bloodied towels for fresh ones. Vittoria could not see it, but she sensed the warm dampness of the ominous crimson stain, dark as midnight, that crept across the bed linens. Fear lived in every cranny of the old midwife's wrinkled face as she worked to quell the incessant bleeding. She threw another blood-drenched cloth onto a growing pile in the corner. An attendant scurried over with a stack of fresh linens. Two noblewomen, shocked to silence, stared at Vittoria. One reached for the babe, and set the mite into Vittoria's arms. The other woman stared unmoving as if afraid. To Vittoria, only the bundle in her arms mattered. The daughter, for whom she laboured so long, suckled at her breast. She pulled the child close and inhaled sweet scent. Vittoria savoured a moment she knew would not last. 9

"How cruel for destiny to deny you a mother," Vittoria whispered. Tears flooded her eyes. She looked down to memorize the child's features. Vittoria ran a hand over the delicate pink face and dark threads of hair and heaved a forlorn sigh. The tiny baby would never remember the warm caress of a mother's touch. That knowledge left a bitter edge to these sweet final moments together. Vittoria removed a golden necklace upon which hung a large bloodstone pendant encircled by gold filigree. Peculiar flecks of reddish brown that resembled splatters of blood blighted the large green gemstone. The midwife gasped. "My lady, don't remove the amulet. Its powers will quell the blood." Vittoria shook her head. She knew her fate. Not even the bloodstone could alter the eminent. Perhaps it lost its powers. No one in the room dared to argue. Her hands trembled. Vittoria draped the necklace over her daughter's tiny head and neck. The bauble looked immense against the baby's diminutive chest. She turned the familiar pendant around and ran her fingers across the ancient Roman writing on the back. Faded and worn from years of wear, the words remained discernible. Vittoria reached out for her dearest and oldest maidservant and read the words aloud. Redder than the rose, Whiter than the lilies, Fairer than everything, All will glory in thee. "A mountain's worth of significance," Vittoria whispered. She paused to recover her energy. "For generations, my family handed the amulet down from mother to daughter." The maidservant gave Vittoria's hand a squeeze. "A mysterious legend decrees the jewel originated from a Roman treasure casket buried somewhere beneath Bloodstone Castle - a treasure many searched for, but none discovered. In childhood, I searched, but failed." Desperate to convey a lifetime of love into the little soul, Vittoria leaned forward, and pressed her lips to her child's forehead. "Tell my daughter this." With tearful eyes, the maidservant nodded. Vittoria breathed a sigh of relief. 10

Time lingered then stopped altogether. Nothing mattered except the power of her love in this final farewell. At last, Vittoria pulled away and let her head sink back upon the lace-trimmed pillow. The midwife lifted the child. The noblewomen crossed themselves. Vittoria's eyes fluttered. The room grew dark. Her body weakened with every breath. Tell my husband - her name is Morena. He must love her enough for both of us." Her chest rose one last time.

***

Find Out More About Mirella Patzer and Bloodstone Castle

Mirella Patzer's Website -
http://www.mirellapatzer.com

Mirella Patzer's Blogs
http://mirellapatzer.blogspot.com
http://bestofitaly.blogspot.com
http://bloodstonecastle.blogspot.com

Watch a Video for Bloodstone Castle
http://www.mirellapatzer.com/2008/01/book-reviews-bloodstone-castle.html

Reviews for Bloodstone Castle by Mirella Patzer
http://mirellapatzer.com/?page_id=150

Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Bloodstone-Castle-Mirella-Patzer/dp/0978486528


Posted by joyceanthony at 3:53 AM EDT
Post Comment | View Comments (1) | Permalink
Friday, 6 June 2008
A Visit With Mirella Patzer
Topic: Blog Tours

For the next few days, we have the honor of getting to know Mirella Patzer and her book, Bloodstone Castle, better.  Sit back and enjoy our visit!

Meet Mirella Patzer - Your Guide on This Adventure

Books are one of Mirella Patzer's obsessions, especially those that pertain to medieval eras and with Italy as a backdrop. To fulfill a life long dream, she began writing several years ago and has never looked back. Since then she has published several short stories and completed two novels with several more novels in various stages of completion. Her fascination for women of history and Italy is often reflected in her work, blogs, and website. When she's not immersed in research or writing or blogging, Mirella works as an editor for Enspiren Press. She writes from her home in Cochrane, Alberta, Canada, surrounded by her husband, two college-bound daughters, and a rambunctious little grandson who frequently interrupts her work with a variety of unanticipated, yet humorous calamities and interruptions. For her, life couldn't get any better.

 

Bloodstone Castle by Mirella Patzer


Bloodstone Castle stands sentinel on the shores of the Ligurian Sea. Secreted somewhere in its dungeons is an ancient Roman treasure of immense value. Contessa Morena of Bloodstone Castle possesses a mysterious bloodstone pendant, the only proof the treasure exists. Since childhood, she has been promised in marriage to Duke Ernesto of Savona. Ernesto is a desperate man, a gambler who has lost his family's fortune, a man who resorts to murder, not once, not twice, but three times to keep from paying his debts and to hide his dirty secret. Marriage to the lovely Morena will make the treasure his and restore his power and desperate circumstances. After the brutal murder of his father, Duke Amoro of Genoa swears two oaths. The first is to avenge his father's death. The second is to honour his father's dying wish and wed Morena of Bloodstone Castle and end the violent feud with between their two families. He severs his affair with his mistress, Laria, and departs for Bloodstone Castle to propose to Morena. But Morena refuses to marry him. Her life thrown into chaos, Morena must choose between obligation and honour, truth and lies, good and evil. She must honour the betrothal her father arranged with Ernesto. Amoro continues to try to convince Morena otherwise.

Ernesto arrives at Bloodstone Castle to claim his bride, but finds Amoro there. The two men confront each other with much animosity.

Then, when the murdered body of Morena's father is brought home, Amoro helps her with his burial, then her and takes her to his home in Genoa. He is fiercely protective over her. This angers Morena at times because she insists upon her independence. While she is conducting an act of charity, she notices Amoro's men following her. As she tries to escape, she falls from her horse and is taken back to Amoro. When Amoro agrees to allow Morena full independence, they set a wedding date.

Laria and Ernesto meet and together they plan to separate Amoro and Morena.

On the day of the wedding, Morena falls into the clutches of Ernesto. Amoro arrives to rescue her and the two men agree to battle each other - winner gets the girl. Ernesto cheats and Amoro is held prisoner. Morena realizes her love for Amoro and to save his life, agrees to marry Ernesto. Laria is free to pursue Amoro again. But Amoro continues to refuse Laria. When Laria learns that Ernesto plans to kill Amoro, she aids Morena in a daring rescue to Amoro and his men.

In medieval Italy, two men face each other with ruthlessness and intensity. Enter their world of splendour and depravity, of passion and wickedness. It is Italy's most dazzling and dangerous age, and as Duke Amoro of Genoa and Duke Ernesto of Savona match wits and cunning, it is a dance the death to decide which one of them will win the hand of the beautiful Countess Morena and the hidden treasure of Bloodstone Castle


Posted by joyceanthony at 12:01 AM EDT
Post Comment | View Comments (3) | Permalink
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
Honor Due by D. H. Brown--A Review
Topic: Book Review

First a brief update---The list of books for the grand prize on the fundraiser has risen to 27 books (see list at http://joyceanthony.tripod.com/id20.html ) For thiose who haven't heard, details of the drawing are at http://joyceanthony.tripod.com  Have you bought your chances yet, folks--that's one dollar per chance at winning 27 books--and there will be numerous single-book drawings!! 

Now, on to the review:

 ISBN:  978-0-9798744-1-3

Honor Due is the first book in a planned thriller trilogy by D. H. Brown.  My biggest disappointment with this book was that the other two parts aren't out yet!!! 

A retired Special Operations officer who spent time in Viet Nam has spent his latest years in a small town trying to get past the nightmares of his past--until the past jumps up in front of him and he is forced back into a war for not only his life, but that of the daughter of his blood brother. Starting out as the hunted, he turns the table and becomes the hunter--and what is to follow will leave readers breathless--and begging for more.

D. H. Brown writes in a way that gets the facts out there without assuming his reader can't imagine the details.  He doesn't waste words--each adds to the mystery and tension of the book, drawing the reader deeper and deeper into Mr. Brown's world. 

While the subject matter could lead some authors to crude descriptions and rough language, this is not the case with Mr. Brown.  Honor Due is written tastefully, a book for adults for sure, but one parents wouldn't mind an older teenager reading. 

I can't wait for D. H. Brown to release the next book in this trilogy, Honor Defended!!


Posted by joyceanthony at 2:06 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Sunday, 1 June 2008
Eighteen Plus Books for a Dollar??
Topic: Miscellaneous

We are running a fundraiser and it gives you guys a wonderful opportunity!!  One winner will receive a prize package of over eighteen books (see current list below)--all brand new and autographed by the authors!!!  The grand prize list is growing daily!!  In addition, there will be numerous prizes of one book given to random winners.  For all the details, go here:

http://joyceanthony.tripod.com/

Current Prize Package

 

It Had to Be Us by Harry and Elizabeth Lawrence http://www.bettyjotucker.com/

 

Susan Sarandon:  A True Maverick by Betty Jo Tucker http://www.bettyjotucker.com/

 

Confessions of a Movie Addict by Betty Jo Tucker http://www.bettyjotucker.com/

 

Death By Candlelight by Billie A. Williams http://www.billiewilliams.com/

 

Knapsack Secrets by Billie A. Williams http://www.billiewilliams.com/

 

Storm by Joyce A. Anthony http://joyceanthony.tripod.com/

 

Conduct Unbecoming by Nina M.Osier http://www.geocities.com/nina_osier/

 

Redemption by Judith Rochelle http://www.judithrochelle.com/

 

Shepherd's Pie by J. D. Webb http://www.jdwebb.com/

 

Heal and Forgive:  Forgiveness in the Face of Abuse by Nancy Richards http://www.healandforgive.net/

 

Cherry Blossoms in Twilight: Memories of a Japanese Girl by Yaeko Sugama Weldon and Linda E. Austin http://www.moonbridgebooks.com/

 

I Romanced the Stone by Marvin D. Wilson http://inspiritandtruths.blogspot.com/

 

Different Roads by Joyce Sterling Scarbrough http://www.authorsden.com/joycelscarbrough1

 

True Blue Forever by Joyce Sterling Scarbrough http://www.authorsden.com/joycelscarbrough1

 

Gentle Journey by Elaine Lyons Bach http://www.shoutlife.com/profile_view.cfm?uid=39176

 

Angel's Dance by Lynn C. Johnston http://www.lynncjohnston.com/

 

Bank Roll:  A Max Stryker Mystery by Janet Elaine Smith http://www.janetelainesmith.com/

 

Dakota Printer by Janet Elaine Smith http://www.janetelainesmith.com/

 

 


Posted by joyceanthony at 12:57 AM EDT
Updated: Sunday, 1 June 2008 1:05 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Saturday, 31 May 2008

Isn't this wonderful work?  Just one more of Steven Bradley's talents!  He makes these banners for others as well as for himself.  I shared a few other examples not long ago.  Anyway, on this final day of our vist with author, Steven Bradley, he has consented to share a peek into his recent project, Patriot Acts.  You are some of the first to see this, as the book has yet to be released.  Enjoy!!

***

Patriot Acts...Strategic Planning - Part One


What Do You Think...?

There are some stark days ahead for the United States its efforts to stop the Islamic Republic of Iran from developing nuclear weapons. There is an intrinsic need to deal with Iran which is in the process of building a nuclear reactor and enriching uranium that it says would be used for its energy needs. Now we see that this nation has been thrust upon the world stage and is now at the center of international debate regarding its nuclear ambitions.

Therefore, it is only logical that we should take a look at whether this fanatical Shiite State should be allowed to possess such technology. Does a land that is sitting on a sea of oil really have energy needs that could not be met by its massive reserve of crude? Would it be wise to trust the nation that launched the present wave of terror through out the world in 1979 with a nuclear arsenal? Can we continue to work closely with any nation, such as Russia, that would help Iran to achieve this goal? These are questions that must be answered.

I present to you, "Strategic Planning" a chapter from Patriot Acts, my next novel. Tell me, do you know those who truly have the nation's best interests in mind. Can you recognize them immediately? Even the most naive ill-prepared of men, since the nation's conception, had played the role by sheer virtue of the weight of such a burden the office bequeathed to the most powerful ruler in the tinderbox that was the world. The office is bigger than the man and forces either the growth of stature and inspiration or disasters of great magnitude which change the world forever.

Read about the President of the United States of America, Christopher A. Tate in the vice grips of a crisis that is devastating in its proportions. Live the workings of the office and of those set on bringing down the Republic. Whatever one of us does, for a brother or a sister, completely disregarding their color, faith or creed, that is what makes up Patriot Acts.
Strategic Planning

April 15, 2009 2:15 PM

It seemed as if the room was lit brighter than usual. Today there would be no Biographer or Official Photographer during this ‘Top Secret’ Cabinet meeting. Both were only allowed into the room for the introduction and then were politely excused from the room and the door was locked behind them. Strategically speaking, the White House had gone black, deep down into the dark reaches of secrecy; the concealment from which wars are born. The administration was hunkered down and had not let nary a peep out to the press that America was about to undergo a crisis that would make the Cuban Missile Crisis appear to be a day at Disneyland.

The air in this commanding room was always one of officialdom and supremacy, but today, with the present state of affairs that were both historic and tumultuous, the room took on an atmosphere of insecurity, turbulence and out-and-out calamity.


The walls were blessed with the presence of portraits of historic figures and placid scenes of a simpler and a far more hopeful day for the young nation called the last, best hope of man. On a normal day, these metaphors caused the men and women who met there to take pause before any decisions were taken that would eventually affect the nation for ill or for gain. Today, the same precaution came over those who had single-filed into the room, but also it seemed to each one that the pictures appeared murkier than usual and the vista that had always made their underpaid and often overworked jobs in the Administration worth the frustration was not so ceremonial today and made them all look beyond the status of their positions and realize that they held the future of the nation in their trembling hands. The table itself gave a luster of authority to the serene stress that pervaded the room at every meeting of the talking heads. Today, heads were not talking! Instead, hearts wanted to fail and groans could be heard exuding from the mouths of the President’s cabinet members in the form of pleas for ideas, solutions, plans of attack, threats and Armageddon scenarios!

There would be no phone calls to the President during this meeting except from the chosen few and only those relating to the issue at hand, an issue that threatened to make this meeting perhaps the last meeting they may ever have if they could not stop the nation from drifting toward disaster. They had to strangle the enemy before it surrounded them! For now, they all sat there opening their files, closing them and opening them again as though they had to make themselves believe what their eyes were reading as they were about to discuss the various war plans and attack plans that could add up to their only prospects.

President Tate sat in his seat and stared straight ahead at the fireplace where a porcelain design of George Washington reposed portraying the first President of the United States bowed to one knee in the snowy field at Valley Forge with his men surrounding him in humble prayer. President Tate looked from the left to the right at those he himself had chosen to lead the nation. He looked at everyone seated at the table directly and the spoke his first words amongst those who so vitally needed to see him lead in a way he had not as yet been forced to do in his still young administration.

“I have seen a lot of them in this old mansion.”

Everyone stared at him with a look of fear that Tate was losing his nerve, the quality that had got him elected in the first place.

“The portraits I mean. I’ve seen a lot of them. But none have affected me more since the first day I saw it up close as that one on the staircase of JFK with his arms folded and his face pointed downward and expressing something that was not even close to depression, my friends! His is a look that we all should have today, this day that we all prayed would never present itself, but somehow knew it surely would! No, Kennedy’s face is one of complete determination to find a resolution to the crisis of his day. His was neither dejection nor retreat but a profound burrowing into the tender regions of his heart and finding the tenacity and resolution to fulfill his oath to preserve, protect and defend! Let us emulate him this day.”

Tate then shook himself loose of the profundity and got to the business at hand.

“What we have here is an ultimatum. I fear we are being placed in a noose that if allowed to be placed around our necks will strangle us into superpower mush! Let me defer to Jamie O’Rourke.”

“Mr. President, We have thought it would be significant to take a good look at the various facilities around the nation of Iran. Now, we cannot destroy them all, but we need to determine which ones are of vital interest to these crazy people and which ones should be classified as high value targets for our munitions. In addition, their most developed plants are deep underground and would require Nuke Bunker Busters to take them out. Mr. President, I yield the floor to National Security Advisor Blake. Roger, its all yours.”

“Mr. President, I have put together a video brief that details the level of threat that each nuclear facility present to the United States.”

The National Security Advisor pressed a button and a screens set up in front of each cabinet member lit up and the brief began to describe the two facilities, which posed the greatest threat to the US.

“First of all, there is the facility at Arak. Mr. President, the existence of a secret nuclear facility at Arak was revealed during a press conference by the representative office of the National Council of Resistance of Iran held in Washington DC, in mid-August 2006. It is located at the Qatran Workshop near the Qara-Chai river in the Khondaub region, in Central Iran, 150 miles south of Tehran.”

“According to National Council of Resistance of Iran, a front organization, named the Mesbah Energy Company, has been used to prevent unwanted disclosures. The headquarters of the Mesbah Energy Company are located in Tehran.”

“On 12 December 2006, The Institute for Science and International Security (ISIS) released an issue brief expressing concern that Iran is trying to develop "The capability to make separated plutonium and highly enriched uranium, the two main nuclear explosive materials." ISIS acquired satellite imagery of a site near the town of Arak. It is at this site where a plant produces heavy water. Heavy water is used to moderate the nuclear chain reaction in one type of nuclear reactor, that could be used either for civilian power production or to produce bomb materials. The nuclear reactor that was under construction at Bushehr at the time is now fully operational. It does not use heavy water nor do current Iranian research reactors need it in amounts that would justify construction of such a facility. The only logical conclusion, therefore is that this plant was built for the express purpose of building nuclear weapons. We have concluded that the Tactical weapons that have entered this country were produced in the Arak plant and its sub-plants.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“I can’t do this Fisher, but I can’t say no either! That’s my family they have in the palms of their hands! How could you expect me to say no!”

“Listen Dog, I did a lot of extensive training in my line of work. Yea, we were taught that there were several lethal places in the human body that demanded hardly any pressure to kill someone. I did my share and yours too in the field. Yet, the best training I ever got was not how to kill, but how to stay alive! They are going to take you away from here today and you have to stay alive for your family and for your country!”

“You aren’t going to kill Tate? After all you’ve gone through?”

“I never said that, but I believe timing is everything. I’ll probably decide that when I see him. Your job is to get me alone with him. You have to play the part with this Mason Ball. My God, you played the poker face perfectly at Anvil Mountain, you’ve got to get in the game again. If your family lives and you die what use will you be to them. From here on out you are Mr. Cooperation, Got it?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Mr. President, construction of the heavy water production plant at Khondab near Arak was reportedly begun in 2004 by the Atomic Energy Organization of Iran (AEOI). The heavy water plant at Arak is reportedly using the Girdler Sulphide process. The location of the facility was reportedly determined by the need for large quantities of water, which can be easily supplied by the Qara-Chai River.”

“The second site, Mr. President, of greatest concern is the nuclear facility at Natanz, also known as Kashan. During a press conference by the representative office of the National Council of Resistance of Iran held in Washington DC, in mid-August 2004, the existence of a secret nuclear facility at Natanz was revealed. Israeli military intelligence refers to the site as Kashan."

“Natanz is located between Isfahan and Kashan in central Iran. The facility is reportedly 100 miles north of Isfahan, and is located in old Kashan-Natanz, near a village called Deh-Zireh, itself located about 25 miles southeast of Kashan, and falls under the jurisdiction of the Governor's Office of Kashan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Will you look at this Dog? They are really doing their homework about casualties. They plan on putting the weapons in strategic locations to bring down all three branches of the Federal Government!

“Yes, five in the White House, ten in the Capital Building, five at the Supreme Court and ten at the Pentagon! The country will be without a government and no one will have their finger on the strategic nukes!”

“You can bet that Garret will try to put his thumb on the trigger!” Fisher predicted. “Ball will have the codes we need Dog and you have to get them to me. There is an underground tunnel that Johnson used to use to get out of the White House for some privacy. It’s been closed for thirty years.”

“You’re crazy Harrison! I’ve heard about that tunnel. It’s been blown up more times than I care to imagine! That could be really dangerous!”

“Oh, yea, danger. Tell me what is not dangerous about anything we’ve done in the past twenty years!? While you’re at it, tell me a better way to get to Tate and to kill him if you have one…! I didn’t think so. Just get me into the tunnel and I’ll do my thing!


Empathy, that's the word that goes beyond merely feeling sorry for someone's horrible or treacherous state of affairs. By far the most vital part of a story and it's characters is to get the readers to feel their sorrow and their joy. In "Last Ounce of Devotion Part One" you read about a young man and the decisions he faced as though he were being force fed with an over-sized mouthful of reality combined with responsibility.

I recently visited the Museum of Psychiatry – An Industry of Death. This was a very sad and important look at the treatments of Mental illness over the past three centuries. Many strange and unbelievable treatments were used and abused by so-called doctors who recommended everything from bleeding the brain to drowning therapy. Yet, the area of the museum that gripped my attention the most firmly was the section on the Holocaust. It was there that I realized the Hitler, in his demonic rage against Jews, Gays, Gypsies and the infirm was the final result of an age of teachers in favor of racial cleansing which eventually led to the final solution.

Young Len Garret learned to hate the country his dad had defended and, in young Len Garret’s mind, the nation that that had murdered his father. The words he learned from his father and the attitude and lethality inert in their aim made this young man know that one day he’d stand up to them all and show them! Read "Last Ounce of Devotion Part Two" and feel the fear, anguish and hatred in this young man. Don’t feel sorry for him. Empathize with him, feel his fear, his anger and his determination as he prepares to lay down his last full ounce of devotion.



Patriot Acts - Last Ounce of Devotion Part Two

Northern Indiana 2009

The image of the day that had necessitated his presence in a place that he deemed as one of the temples of the usurpers who had overtaken the nation. That was what dad had said and this young mind had received a crash course in plotting retribution. The image formed and behind Len Garret’s closed eyes, he saw them coming, all dressed in black, and covered by the absorbing darkness of a night off of Toto Road. The dogs were barking, the lights around the compound flashed on and the invaders dispersed. The radios blared like a rock concert in the silent night air, and the front door flew open with Russell Garret exploding out of the door and waving the assault rifle in all directions…

“Get off my land!” There wasn’t a sound. “You got a warrant?” Russell Garret screamed. “Did you hear me?”

Inside Len Garret’s dream, he could hear something so distinct and clear and the sound was so recognizable, but not immediately understood. Then he knew. He began to whimper and the glass full of Tequila fell to the floor and rolled against the wall. Len Garret’s eyes flashed open and closed up tightly again. He heard the sounds of blades turning and growing in volume. He saw his father holding the assault rifle and looking straight into the air, turning frequently to get his bearings. Russell Garret turned and saw his wife Amy and their daughter, Belinda and their son, Leonard standing in the front door of their house.

“Go back in the house!” Russell shouted

“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, Russ?” Amy asked in worried voice.

“Go back inside!” Russell screamed as he looked frantically in ever direction trying to locate the direction of the sound that was really loud now and which sounded increasingly like a…helicopter.

“Something’s happening here and it could be…just get inside the house Amy and get the kids outta here!”

Amy looked behind her and found her daughter, Belinda, but her son, Leonard was gone.

“Where did that boy go?” Amy thought. “He’s fourteen…almost fifteen. He’ll be alright.”

Like a giant stinging bug rising from the Earth, Amy saw it as she looked out past her husband, Russell. She saw it and pointed at it and Russell turned toward the sound, raising his weapon as he swiveled. When Russell Garret had fully turned and aimed his gun at the chopper hovering over them, a shot rang out from the chopper’s gun and a large caliper round buried itself inside Russell Garret’s brain. He fell to the ground and Amy reached behind her and pulled an automatic rifle out in front of her and began to fire.

Someone ran from the woods and stood directly under the chopper. The pilot and his crew were busy getting ready to blow away the country woman standing at her own doorway believing herself to be defending her own property and family, just like Russell had told her to if something happened to him.

“I thought he was crazy, but I paid attention!” she told herself. “Now I know he was right!” She confirmed as she changed guns and kept firing at the chopper.

The person under the chopper back up and got as far away from the hovering craft and then raised his riffle and aimed it at the engines. He started to squeeze the trigger when eight year old Belinda came around in front of her mommy just as four rockets propelled grenades roared to life and took flight in a preordained course.

“Oh, Dear God!” Amy cried out. “Forgive me of my sins, Jesus!” Amy looked at Belinda.

“I love you, my baby!” Amy Garret took her little daughter up to her breasts. Belinda looked up at her mommy.

“Mommy, I…” The RPG’s exploded into the house and Amy and Belinda were torn apart.

“NO! YOU BASTARDS!” screamed the boy just before fourteen year old, Len Garret fired and brought the chopper down in a sudden drop that exploded upon impact. Len had not expected the helicopter to fall so close to him. He jumped to the ground, face first, as a piece of metal flew from the chopper and tore open Len’s neck.

The boy opened his eyes. There was nothing but darkness, later mutating into a place with ornate surroundings which jolted the boy's mind to take notice that he was in the court room. Voices echoed throughout the hallowed chambers as Len Garret sat there, appearing oblivious, but fully aware of his situation and what he would do one day to make his family’s sacrifice have meaning. The surrounding guards looked at him and smiled.

“He was just a Child. He only did what his radical father had taught him.” The witness declared. “I treated him for over a year and I can attest to his right state of mind and that he is fully healed mentally. He exercised excellent social skills and participated in all the team sports and…”

“Thank you Dr. Molar. No further questions.”

Would the counsel approach the bench.

The lawyers conferred with the judge and young Len Garret thought about the Psychiatrist’s words. Len knew he had healed, kept up in school, learned a lot about many things that really didn’t matter now, because three years after having seen his father, mother and sisters murdered before his eyes didn’t change one damn thing for the seventeen year old Len Garret.

“Son” The austere Judge announced. “Stand up please, Mr. Garret.” The boy rose from his chair.

“Do you realize that you killed those officers in that helicopter and that it was wrong to have done that under any circumstance?”

The boy’s thoughts told him that “They deserved it and I’d like to blow your brains out too!”
“Play nice to be bad later!” he speculated.

To the judge, his mouth said, “Yes sir, I know I was wrong and I am truly sorry.” Tears started to flow from his eyes, some that were manufactured, but many that were real and produced by the sheer weight of the burden of what he had gone through and the understanding of what he would have to do, in the future.

The judge looked into Len Garret’s face and the longer he looked the more the magistrate’s face softened. “Young man, I believe you. I also have a lot of sadness over what happened to your family. It is my admonition to the government rather than you. Go out now and make yourself someone who can help keep the power of this nation in check. Get an education and raise a great family and I promise you’ll die one day, a happy man.”

“The hell with your “happy man” crap!” Len thought. To the judge, he just nodded in the affirmative.

“I am releasing you. You are a free man, Mr. Garret. You are under the custody of your aunt until you reach the age of eighteen, and I hope to never see you in this judge’s court again. . .”

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these Sites:

Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!
Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy
Steven Clark bradley inspiredauthor.com/promotion
Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com

Patriot Acts is still a work in progress. You can't get your own copy yet, but Steven Clark Bradley has three published novels, Nimrod Rising!, Stillborn! & Probable Cause.

amazon.com
barnesandnoble.com
bordersstores.com
booksamillion.com
powells.com
copperfields.com


Posted by joyceanthony at 3:20 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
A Sneak Peek at Patriot Acts by Steven Bradley
Topic: First Chapter

Posted by joyceanthony at 2:47 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Friday, 30 May 2008
More excerpts from Steven Bradley!!
Topic: Blog Tours

Steven Bradley has so much work online, I thought I'd send you some links to help you read more.  Give yourself plenty of time, folks--there's a ton here and you won't want to miss any of it!!


Here are some links to some amazing excerpts from Steven's Novel Nimrod Rising:

http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2007/06/new-novel-imrod-rising-at-publisher.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/are-we-at-end-of-our-days.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/steps-toward-gomorrahpart-two.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/nimrod-rising-legion-of-ants-part-one.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/nimrod-rising-legion-of-ants-part-two.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/nimrod-rising-sincere-and-dedicated.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/nimrod-rising-sincere-and-dedicated_29.html



Here are some excerpts from his new novel Patriot Acts (Now in Editing Process):

http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/04/patriot-actsstrategic-planning-part-one.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/patriot-actsstrategic-planning-part-two.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/03/patriot-acts-last-full-ounce-of.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/03/patriot-acts-last-full-ounce-of.html


http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-full-ounce-of-devotion-part-three.html

Here are some of his book trailers:

Click this link to watch one of my book video trailers, "Are You Ready For Nimrod Rising"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKHofQi2pRI

Watch them all here:  

http://stevenbradley.blogspot.com/2007/08/nimrod-rising-in-beginning.html

You can read lots more from Steven Clark Bradley at these sites. You might even find some Stories That Read You! at:

Steven Clark Bradley's Stories That Read You!

Steven Clark Bradley's Underground Controversy


Steven Clark bradley

www.inspiredauthor.com/promotion

Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com

Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com


Steven Clark bradley at Communati.com


Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com


Steven Clark Bradley - Nimrod Rising


Posted by joyceanthony at 5:46 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Thursday, 29 May 2008
Stillborn by Steven Bradley--An Excerpt
Topic: First Chapter

Today I'd like to share with you a third excerpt from Steven Bradley.  Tomorrow, I will be sharing more information on Steven's upcoming book and share with you some places where you can read even more of this wonderful author's work. Now, onto the excerpt....

Introduction

April 1, 1988, 2:03 AM

She had insisted upon hating it but there was no denying it any longer. The blowing night breeze gave a false sense of serenity to a tense evening with the growing thing inside her always bringing her back to reality. The moonlit night sky above caused a glimmer of misty light through a window into the land of the so-called living to expose the sleeping silhouette of a beautiful woman. Her restive eyes shifted radically behind her closed eyelids. She saw it all so clearly; that same evil nightmare that had plagued her since the thing had begun to sprout within her. She had purposed in her heart to abhor it because she was sure that would be the only way to survive the inhumane measures the thing's appearance would unleash.

The dream was like a night in some evil cavalcade of misfits that always seemed to leave the taste of hostility on her tongue. She couldn't see it, but she felt it. There was a sense that she had to walk the length of the environs and that she could feel arms pulling at her to compel her. It didn't feel like she was heading toward anguish, but was actually being invaded by it, almost surrounding her! She ran into a pavilion as though in slow motion, with her feet moving as though they were treading upstream in a fast flowing river and traveling in the opposite direction! It was gloomy, sinister even rancid. She saw no one but heard the wailing hideous cries of babies in some hidden away place that made her blood crawl. She grasped her abdomen and followed the shrieking sounds to a hallway. She tried to open several doors and found the third one on her left unlocked and slowly slid it open. This had been the farthest she had ever ventured down the lingering hallway that had so often occupied her dreams. The weeping sounds stopped, but a vista appeared before her; a landscape she had seen before. There before her own eyes she saw herself sitting handcuffed in front of a police officer's desk. As she watched the scene unfurl before her eyes she spoke the words out silently to herself in unison with the man seated in front of her in this obscure panorama before her dreaming eyes!

"Susan, Susan, this is the third time this week! Can't you spot a cop from a John anymore?"

"Mr. Policeman, I got no job but this one, no money, no family except back in Mexico. Me? I have only this beautiful body Mr. Policeman, and it don't last too long either, so..."

The young beautiful sleeping beauty saw two officers walk past her and it was clear to her in the dream that they could neither see nor sense her presence. She was startled at the face of the tall one and grabbed her stomach and scared to death by the short older one and it made her hug the contents of her expanded belly. She saw both of them look at her image shackled to the chair in front of her in the dream, the short older cop in front of her had an inquisitive look on his face. As the shorter, older cop talked with the tall officer, the short one turned and looked at the woman in the chair and shook his head up and down slightly while scratching his chin and smiling slightly. The tall officer waved at the short one; both with perverse smiles on their faces. The sleeping treasure began to stir as behind her closed eyelids, suddenly, the lights went out in the room she was in while watching herself in the dream and she had to stumble in the darkness!

The dreaming woman again clutched her abdomen! The thing within her was kicking, moving, heaving, and pushing her almost to the ground each time the woman's insides received blows from the product growing and protesting within her! She turned around and painfully walked out the door. The pain was taking her breath away. It was kicking her on all sides and without mercy! As her foot touched the hallway again the wailing cries of the babies blasted out again and her pain subsided. She turned in an almost frantic, maternal manner to rush over to the door from where the cries were coming. She looked down at her own stomach and the thing was gone! Suddenly, she tuned her ears to the sounds of the babies' cries at the end of the hall in front of her!

"My baby! I am coming baby!"

The woman lunged forward and ran at top speed to the door and saw it was partly open and the light inside the room was escaping out into the hallway. She aggressively pushed the door open. This time there was a background that she actually remembered from the previous times she had been there in her night visions. There was the short pudgy cop seated behind his desk. He leaned back in his armchair and looked her over. To the right was a man who had a face that looked like a mosquito. She recognized him! Best pimp she had ever had! The woman in the scene, of course she knew the insect looking thing.

"Richie, thought you were my pimp, not a pig!" the woman shouted at the bug-like man. She watched the vision unfold.

"You know you have become somewhat of a public nuisance!" the officer stated.

"Ah, business has been good and I feel quite well received, know what I mean sir? The public seems to like me very much, including several of Chicago's finest." The woman was smiling slightly.

The officer stared at the woman for a moment. His piercing look made the woman very uncomfortable and she began to look around the office to get a grip on her fear. As the woman in the dream and the woman watching the dream behind her closed eyelids surveyed the room, they both participated in on the eye parade. Together, they both noticed the diploma on the wall behind the dumpy old officer. It was too far away to read much of it but the part she could make out read, "Degree of Doctor of Forensic Medicine." Somehow the paper made the woman calm down knowing that his looks were misleading and that in reality he was a doctor. She wondered though,

"What kind of doctor becomes a cop?"

The sensuous street woman's eyes slid down the wall behind the doctor-cop and finally met those piercing eyes in the head of this elusive doctor-cop seated behind the desk. He leaned forward in his chair. The sound of the old rickety chair thrusting forward to draw the man's face closer to the woman in the dream alarmed the dreamer as she gasped.

"You know, I can have them throw the book at you. It's not exactly my purview here, but put in the years I have here and you can pretty much have anything the way you want it, just touch the right people, if you know what I mean sweetie?"

The woman in the chair was afraid, but she didn't dare let on!

"Just listen to the man, darling." the mosquito man pleaded.

"I just do my service to humanity senor. What you call it here, um, a free-market system or something like that?"

The dreamer thought that was a gutsy thing to say and felt proud of herself. In fact, she seemed to remember having said it herself at some point. The officer laughed, seeming to have appreciated the dexterity of the whore seated in front of him.

"She is perfect!" he thought.

She would be excellent and he could put up with her for 9 months anyway. She needed the money, wanted the cash, so why not go for it? He softened his facial expression and looked calmly at her. The woman watching the scene began to remember parts of the image before her and grabbed her stomach again!

"I have a proposition for you, Miss...?"

"My name is Susan," the woman informed the officer.

Suddenly, the observer remembered it all! She remembered the contract, the money, the treatment and the thing developing inside her and her inability to hate it! She remembered the officer!

"Tell him NO!" the dreamer screamed at the woman.

She knew who the woman was! She knew her well! She was this woman seated in the chair in front of the police doctor-cop! She ran up and tried to shake the image of herself in the scene and her hand simply reacted as if it was touching the nothingness of a cloud and the image disappeared into a hazy fog and the sound of the crying babies again filled the shadowy and eerie atmosphere of the dream. She ran out of the room, and back into the hallway, which had gone black. As she ran down the hallway, she realized again that the heavy load she had been bearing in front of her was gone and her abdomen was empty. She panicked but kept running to open door where the sounds were so piercingly throbbing at the night air! She threw open the door and was shocked to find two infants lying in the corner of an eerily lit room. They were wrestling in a pool of mud and were crying out for their mommy! Abruptly, they ceased their wailing and turned their heads towards her and stared at her. One began to reach out for her crying while the other one screamed, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" The dreaming woman began to scream and ran out of the room.

Suddenly, the dark haired beauty opened her eyes! She felt tremors at her insides forcing her to grab her abdomen.

"Oh God!" she prayed.

She turned and punched the man who was asleep next to her with his mouth gapped open.

"Wake up! Richie! Wake up, it's coming",

The body next to hers roused and suddenly sat up in bed.

"Ah, you ready to go?"

She looked at the man who had a bug-like face and shook her head in exasperation.   "Ah! It lives!" she grunted and pounded on the man's shoulder. He instantly lit a half-smoked cigarette. They sat up. She did so slowly because she knew her insides were very tender at the moment. The man took a cell phone and speed-dialed a number.

"Hello."

"Yea, it's Richard. Your product is on its way!"

"One second please" the voice at the other end ordered. "Be there in five!"

"Uh, Good!" The man closed the cell phone.

"Let's go Suzy Q. They'll be right here! Now come on!"

"Sometimes you are Mr. Sensitivity himself, you know that?"

She picked up her suitcase and tried to give it to Richie to carry. He paid no attention to her so she lifted it and walked down the steep stairs from her apartment to the street down below followed by the bug-man. When they reached the bottom, a car pulled up in front of them and the back door swung open. The bug-man nudged her into the back seat and the car sped away. She remembered her dream. What did it mean? Soon she would learn. People will always do for money what they would never even dream of doing for food. She was not exactly a whore. She had a pitiful ability to be a beautiful, soft woman when she wished to. A reason or opportunity simply presented itself so rarely. Now, here she was just gasping for breath in the back seat of a stranger's car ready to throw away the fruit of her loins. She had insisted upon hating it. The problem was that it had made its presence so well known in the last eight weeks. Against her own better judgment, she had allowed herself to commune with it. She had taken it as her own. She had finally found something she could not prostitute! She wanted it. Perhaps she loved it? Giving it away was such a vicious type of suicide. Giving it away would end her life! Some things were simply known far too deeply in the heart.

"How many minutes apart are they?"

"AH! Diablo! I think about three minutes. Richie, it feels like there's an army in there or a mighty big one." She clutched her abdomen and began to wince from the pain.

"Hey Suzy Q, you got to hang in there. We can do this."

"The father was a big man. It was good!" she thought to herself.

"This kid will be the same."

"I'd swear there are four arms and four legs in there." She informed Richie, grunting and moaning as she spit out her words. She looked down at her baby's soon to be abandoned shelter. She rubbed her belly and said, "You will be ok. Oh God, let us be ok!" She was not at all sure about that herself. The car pulled into an abandoned industrial complex.

"What is this? Where are we? This is not what I agreed to!"

Susan began to panic. She was told that she would be in a hospital. She wanted to leave. It was out of the question! It was not the way it was supposed to be. The car stopped. This beautiful woman reached for the door handle! There was none! She was about to enter her own self-made hell and this was no dream!


Posted by joyceanthony at 12:38 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
Probable Cause by Steven Bradley--An Excerpt
Topic: First Chapter
  Introduction

"Madam! I have no choice! Every other option sucks! She was my whole life.Will she come back to me?"

"She shall certainly never return to you if you kill yourself and why you come to me today, sir, from so far away, just to have me tell you to cut your wrists or to drown yourself in the tub or to jump off one of the bluffs here? I never knew I was so popular. From where you live?"

"Madam, Logansport is renowned for the likes of you. I had a friend who came to you once."

"Ah! Where is your friend now my?"

"He is dead!"

"He did not take my advice either, I see?"

"No, he did take it, quite literally!"

"Well, every case is different ya see, but yours is definitely one worth fighting for! I see death in your cards, but not your own, my friend. This life is all about what makes ya happy, sir. Is it suicide that will give you peace and make you most happy? Then do that!"

"Well, actually..."

"Or...is it getting her back that you crave and not just that, getting rid of the disease and its carrier that gave it to her?"

"You mean murder, don't you?"

"That is what some would call it. I call it justice, a new set of values and you of all people believe in justice, don't you? I serve my master because He never just sat by and let that so-called God just take everything away from Him. He fought back and does to this day! He is no coward!"

"Are you calling me a coward, Madam Lizza?"

"There is no need to call you a coward! You are doing that yourself! Is she worth it? Was she not a victim of all of this? Do you not want her back or perhaps you wish to kill her too, because that is what you will be doing if you die! What are you prepared to do to get her back? What are you prepared to do; let the thief win? I see right here in the cards that you are no coward. You can become death and make it your friend and the friend of the innocent and the enemy of the evil. Have you no values sir? So I ask you again, what are you prepared to do?"

"I cannot worship Satan! I have always been told that..."

"Is he evil, correct sir? He is the Prince of Darkness, but darkness is not always evil. Darkness is two-sided and both are friends and both are enemies. It depends on the situation. Sometimes it is your friend and sometimes it is your adversary. Let Queen Lizza assure you that in your case, darkness is your very good companion. It could certainly assist you in this endeavor sir? I know you will come back to visit me, but not concerning this situation. So now, you go from here and consider what I have said. I am not asking you to serve Satan, sir. I am imploring you to do justice and let the light of darkness guide you even in the light. But before you go, close your eyes and tell me what you see."

The Medium's client closed his eyes softly then his eyes tightened as a result of what he saw.

"Tell me, my child, tell Madam Lizza what you see."

"I see, I see a grave yard, a tombstone right in front of me."

"Whose tomb stone is it my friend? Tell me!"

"It is his, he is dead and..."

"And it makes you feel good? Makes you happy? Is it gratifying? Is it not peaceful? Is it not right? Sir!"

The seer's customer was startled and opened his eyes.

"Tell me, sir, did you come here to get some pastoral advice? If so, you came to the wrong place! Now, go out of here and if killing yourself and giving her to him is your greatest peace, by all means, do it sir! If you want her back and the evil one gone, then be a man and wipe out the plague that will leave her life after you are gone and destroy yet another family."

"Do you see that in my cards?"

"It is all here including how you felt when you found them out. Make this a new purpose for your life, to help those in such a plight as this."

Queen Lizza lifted her left hand and blew a powder from her palm unto the heart-wounded man's face. He was dazed by it.

"You should do the will of the master because it is the only one that works but go now and I ask you one more time, what are you prepared to do? You are sworn to uphold justice, are you not? So, go out and do so! I offer you a completely new set of core values!"


Posted by joyceanthony at 2:24 AM EDT
Post Comment | Permalink

Newer | Latest | Older