Lighthouse
Lighthouse illuminates the landscape of fiction with a beam exposing places seldom visited, perhaps a thrust back in time to a condemned Christian faced with lions in the Roman arena. Faith is tested with a threat of being devoured, but the revolving light guides us elsewhere, and the situation remains unresolved.
Doubt lingers as we leave the arena and diminishing roar of spectators when the beam moves on to spotlight yet another story that settles on a buried vampire digging its way out of a grave to campaign against injustice and prejudice. Shocked into a corner of occult fiction the light shifts to a gathering of antagonistic phantoms waging an invisible war against a terrorized resident of their haunted house irritated by cobwebs and dust to the point where plans are made to renovate the place. The beacon leads us out in the street to escape wrestling with annoyed ghosts and takes us on a casual stroll through brighter fields of naturalism and nostalgia that lends to the feeling all is right with the world. On the southern bayous our canoe glides listlessly as we fish deep water for bottom feeders unaware the swamp ahead darkens with primeval violence lurking in the mud not far from the carefully kept lawns of civilized neighborhoods. The light is dimmed in a tangle of mangroves but floundering in the dark we reach for the outstretched hand of a New Orleans skeleton in a top hat, a celebrant of Mardi Gras and critic of sobriety. It encourages us to drink before continuing our journey on the narrow path the lighthouse provides. Given a choice, readers may either cautiously sip the brew he offers as they would sanity at the gates of chaos or, turning a page with courage and trepidation drink deep, trusting the chapters ahead will not dim the brilliant beacon that guides one’s search for hidden grottoes of joy. This collection is available at Bookbaby.com.
A Season of Intrepid Hope and Other Internal Affairs
A Season of Intrepid Hope and Other Internal Affairs engages humanity as it slips through eras of evolution to walk on the muddied banks of African streams where colonists envision pleasant gardens and bungalows. Their desire to cultivate and tame the wilderness creates cultural friction by discouraging the traditional lion hunting rituals of Maasai warriors. Indigenous dissent proves irreconcilable, so a search for happier venues sails overseas to the Americas where settlers established a new world democracy on the bones of tribes and buffalo. The fate of Native Americans is an unresolved issue left in the wake of a dogpaddle down the backstreets of modern cities probing the depths and shallows of joy in urban lives. Immersed in non-stop production lines, characters run the rapids of a rush to meet schedules, keep appointments, pay bills, and navigate fast water in close and hazardous channels. A break in the turbulence allows time to drift and speculate if contentment is possible when a paralyzing fear of undertow accompanies doubts that question the origins of all that is and where the reach for happiness might lead. Relief comes in a religion of science and technology that travels to the stars and glitters with hope on strange worlds where a new wave of pilgrims confronts alien aboriginals who appraise the newcomers suspiciously. Perhaps they are amused by these planetary travelers who seek dominion on bleak planets of waterless rocks. Available at Bookbaby.com
Long Water Land
My first collection of short stories was called Long Water Land, a name given the banks of the Quinnipiac River by Native Americans who found it idyllic before the European incursion when this verdant locale was changed radically by the industrial revolution’s rise of factories and influx of workers.
The stories presented explore diverse levels of experience in this regional strip of New England, focusing on ordinary people and the dramatic life altering impact of expanding commerce and manufacturing following the Second World War. The old and young, lethargic and industrious offer their opinions as they weigh the advantages of their way of life against the degree of loss imposed on individuals damaged by production lines and the diminishing natural environment. Behind them are the smug but saddened ghosts of vanquished tribes observing dead fish floating on oil slicked rivers as the justified outcome of communities that ignored the sacred character of the Long Water Land.