Brendan Carroll's Blog: Working my way back, page 5

The Red Cross of Gold ~ Assassin Chronicles: A Sample of Djinn Persona

Today's sample is taken from Book 15: The Red Cross of Gold XV:. My Hope is in God. The Mighty Djinni is paying a visit to St. Simon's Island and introducing himself to Merry Sinclair. Be warned: This is the 15th book of the Assassin Chronicles and if you are unfamiliar with the mannerisms of Djinn creatures, Lemarik's
discourse might seem rather strange as he tries to relate some rather startling family secrets to Merry. :^) Happy Reading!!


"Ho, Brother of Adar!" A man's voice caused her to open her eyes. She was surprised to see the purple wizard walking up out of the foamy surf.
Luke stopped and shaded his eyes against the lowering sun.
"Ho, Lemarik!" Luke returned the greeting and walked out to meet the wizard.
Merry did not understand this creature at all. He was not quite a man and yet he was a man, though his movements were strange and his voice hypnotic. The first time she had met him in the inner bailey, he had scared her to death. She had been looking over the flowerbeds next to the walls in idle curiosity when he had climbed up out of the well, greeted her as if he had known her all his life and then hurried into the keep looking for Luke Matthew, his long, purple robe flapping out behind him.
She watched with one hand shading her eyes as Luke and Lemarik hugged each other briefly and then the wizard came directly to where she sat.
"Ohhhhhh," he smiled down at her and swayed back and forth. "You are very great now. It will not be long and the babe will be here with us. Such a strange and wonderful thing. But much too painful. You should allow me to help you with that. I could make a bubble for the child and you would be free to do as you please."
"No, thank you," Merry declined politely, remembering that Luke had told her time and again that politeness was extremely important when dealing with Adalune Kadif. She could never tell if he was serious or just kidding with her. A bubble? "I'll be fine."
"Of course you will. It will be as it was before," Lemarik made another of his endless cryptic remarks and turned to look at Luke. "Will Simon of Grenoble be attending? Will Adar come to see the birth of his son?"
"I dunna know aboot me brother, but Simon 'as promised t' be 'ere," Luke told him.
"Surely Adar would not miss such a momentous occasion. He missed it the first time. He should be here this time."
"Me brother will nae be th' father o' th' babe, Lemarik," Luke told him. "Merry is me woife now. I will be th' boy's father."
"Ohhhh. Ahhh." Lemarik's eyes grew wide as he swayed back to look closely at Merry's face with first one eye and then the other. "So this is what Adar has been keeping from me. You do not love him. I see. That makes things a bit different. That makes things much more complicated. But it is just a matter of some small adjustment. The boy will have his uncle as father and the nephew will be the uncle's son. And what will the boy call his father? Uncle? Father? Hmmm. This will have to be decided. I will call him brother."
Merry frowned. Brother?
Luke caught Lemarik's arm and drew him away from her.
She could hear the wizard oohhing and aahhing as Luke spoke to him in a low voice. She wondered how the wizard had managed to come out of the water completely dry. His long beard fluttered in the breeze and his dark hair blew about his head as they talked. Presently, the wizard came back to her. He bent low over her hand and kissed the back of it.
"Welcome to the family of Adar, Meredith Nichole. I am your humble nephew, Adalune Kadif, but you may call me Lemarik and I will call you Merry. Your brother-in-law is my father. Your husband, my uncle, tells me that you are not well and that my presence here may be disturbing to you or distressing to you. I would not wish to be rude."
"You are anything but rude, Lemarik." Merry raised up slightly to look over his shoulder at Luke. "You are quite... charming. Won't you stay for dinner?"

"Ohhh. No. I do not think that would be wise. Your Corrigan and your Simon do not like me. They are most rude to me and I would not wish to destroy them. A mighty Djinni such as myself can only allow so much rudeness in a man and they far exceed my limits in very short order. They are friends of Adar and he would be most unhappy with me if I were to feed them to the vultures."
Merry's eyes widened and then she smiled. He was teasing her.
"Ahh. Such a beautiful smile. Just like Adar's wife. Her smile was like sunshine and she smelled of violets and roses, though she bathed in vanilla. Ahhh. Vanilla. Second only to frankincense and myrrh. And her baths were such wonderful things to see."
"Ah, Lemarik." Luke clamped one hand on the Djinni's shoulder. "Air ye sure ye wudna want t' come up t' th' keep? I can assure ye thot me Brothers will keep a civil tongue withee or they'll answer t' me."
"I would not want to be a bother, Uncle," Lemarik shook his head.
"No. Please." Merry began to push herself out of the chair to which she seemed to be grown. Luke came to help her.
Lemarik frowned slightly and stepped back. Merry shuddered in the cooler air that had sprung up with the evening.
"Allow me," he said, bowed low and whipped off the purple robe, wrapping her in it. "Come, come, come." He waved one hand to Luke. Luke frowned and stepped a bit closer, taking Merry's arm and then they were in the castle in the library.
Christopher looked up from his computer and shrieked involuntarily at the sight of the three people suddenly standing in front of the fireplace.
"Now then, that's much better." Lemarik took his robe from her shoulders and tossed it across one of the overstuffed armchairs in front of the fire. Luke and Merry stood looking at each other in shock. "What a wonderful fire. I do love to watch the flames. I see all sorts of things there." The Djinni turned about and rubbed his slender hands together in front of the fire.
"Christopher?" Luke addressed the frightened apprentice. "Fetch some woine. And some tea fur th' lassie."
Merry found her way to the armchair and picked up the purple robe. It was heavy and smooth in her hands. A grand piece of work with deep pockets on the inside. Soft and yet strong. Warm and yet, cool to the touch. She ran her hand along the black embroidery on the hem and wondered who had sewn the work for the wizard. She sat down, holding the cloak in her lap.
"Won't you sit down?" She asked him and waved one hand at the other chair.
"Ohhh. No. I like to stand. It is more conducive to moving about and less disturbing to watch," Lemarik told her and then began to travel about the room, peeking into every nook and cranny. He picked up the objects on the tables and smelled of them one by one as he talked. Some of them, he tasted and made faces of delight or distaste at the results. "I came to remind my Uncle to practice his work diligently for the time of your labor draws nigh and great things will be accomplished on that day. Some of it will be very sad for me and yet, some of it will bring great joy. But he will need to be ready for that day just as you are."
"Whattar ye talkin' aboot?" Luke asked and backed up to the fire and put his hands behind him to keep from waving them about in agitation. His brother had taught him to be very careful when talking to his nephew. Luke had quickly learned that a little patience always stood him in good stead and usually brought the best results.
"Omar has raised a great army. And he has taken up with the Dogs of Shaitan against my protests. I am most ashamed of him. He has allowed his mind to become polluted and he believes that he has... transcended. He no longer needs his father's wisdom and he shuns the wisdom of his grandfather. His mind has been unduly affected by his wife just as I expected would happen. She has made him turn from his truer purposes and she has ruined my beautiful son. The sadness breaks my heart."
"Your son?" Merry turned about in the chair to watch him as he pulled random books from the shelves, opened them and then put them back.
"Ohhh. Yes. Yes. Yes. He was such a beautiful child. Wonderful. Glorious and most wise. Most kind and most polite. And then the daughter of Adar came and beguiled him with her charms and... poof." He snapped his fingers. "He was lost to me."
"Wait. Wait. Wait." Merry shook her head. "Adar's daughter? I thought you said that Adar is your father?"
"Oh, yes. Adar is my father." Lemarik glanced at her and then continued his perusal of the books. "My son's wife is his daughter."
"Luke?" Merry turned to look at her husband. "Is there something here that does not make sense?"
"Mark Andrew is or was, at one toime, Adar, th' moighty Hunter," Luke shrugged. "Or so I'm told. Adar was or is Lemarik's father. Nicole was and is Omar's woife. Omar is Lemarik's son. Nicole is Mark Ramsay and Sister Meredith's daughter. Damn me, if I understand it, lassie."
"There is nothing to understand." Lemarik swayed across the room to stand next to Luke. "It is very simple." The wizard was a bit taller than Luke and thinner. He wore a white shirt and black pants. His tall boots reached above his knees and he wore a wide belt about his waist. The hilt of a jeweled dagger sparkled on his left side. He looked very much like a pirate to Merry, except for the long beard which she did not like. "Mark Ramsay was Adar before he came to this world. His brother, not Luke, but another brother, chased him from the heavens because he was jealous of my mother's attentions to him. His brother wanted my mother for his own, but she did not return his affections. As soon as I was old enough, he chased me away as well and I followed Adar here. This is a wonderful world if you do not pay too much attention to the workings of men. Adar had himself born as a man and was a great wizard, a mighty sorcerer, very powerful and then he was enchanted by a sorceress. Alas. She was one of his own students. She imprisoned him for many years until his brother found him and released him with the intent to destroy him, but Adar had a surprise for him. A wonderfully powerful work of magick. And he sent his brother to the halls of dust and ashes. But his brother was also very powerful and very tricky, indeed and he soon escaped the land of Kurnugi and came to search again for Adar, but Adar had found his way into the womb with Luke and there he remained hidden for nine moons with him while his elder brother cast about in darkness for him."
Merry sat with her mouth hanging open as Lemarik told this story. Luke stood by the fire, also staring at him in disbelief. Mark Andrew had never told him any of this. It sounded like some great faery tale to him and he would never have believed it, except that Mark Andrew had warned him to always be polite to the Djinni at all costs. The Djinni was most dangerous, Mark Andrew had told him. Extremely powerful and very unpredictable. Mark had told him to merely listen to him and agree with him for the most part and then report to him everything that the Djinni might say. So far, this was the third visit that the wizard had paid to them since Merry had come here. The first visit had been in the company of Mark Andrew and he had departed with him again without speaking to Luke personally. The second visit had been very brief. The wizard had stayed only a few minutes, inquired after Merry's health and then gone about his business as mysteriously as he had appeared. This was the first time that the Djinni had come inside the keep and actually talked with them. Luke was fascinated and Merry was beside herself.
Christopher reappeared with the hot tea and wine Luke had requested. He set the tray on the desk and poured drinks for them. Lemarik took tea.
"And then what happened?" Merry asked him when he had his cup of tea in his hands and Christopher had left them.
"Ahh. Then a terrible thing happened. Luke, here, was born. And Adar was not ready. He did not want to come out of hiding. He was afraid that his brother would find him in his helpless state of infancy. Luke's mother tried to make him be born, but he refused and she

Sample Sunday ~ Mar 8, 2011

Today's sample is taken from Book 15: The Red Cross of Gold XV:. My Hope is in God. The Mighty Djinni is paying a visit to St. Simon's Island and introducing himself to Merry Sinclair. Be warned: This is the 15th book of the Assassin Chronicles and if you are unfamiliar with the mannerisms of Djinn creatures, Lemarik's discourse might seem rather strange as he tries to relate some rather startling family secrets to Merry. :^) Happy Reading!!


“Ho, Brother of Adar!” A man’s voice caused her to open her eyes. She was surprised to see the purple wizard walking up out of the foamy surf.
Luke stopped and shaded his eyes against the lowering sun.
“Ho, Lemarik!” Luke returned the greeting and walked out to meet the wizard.
Merry did not understand this creature at all. He was not quite a man and yet he was a man, though his movements were strange and his voice hypnotic. The first time she had met him in the inner bailey, he had scared her to death. She had been looking over the flowerbeds next to the walls in idle curiosity when he had climbed up out of the well, greeted her as if he had known her all his life and then hurried into the keep looking for Luke Matthew, his long, purple robe flapping out behind him.
She watched with one hand shading her eyes as Luke and Lemarik hugged each other briefly and then the wizard came directly to where she sat.
“Ohhhhhh,” he smiled down at her and swayed back and forth. “You are very great now. It will not be long and the babe will be here with us. Such a strange and wonderful thing. But much too painful. You should allow me to help you with that. I could make a bubble for the child and you would be free to do as you please.”
“No, thank you,” Merry declined politely, remembering that Luke had told her time and again that politeness was extremely important when dealing with Adalune Kadif. She could never tell if he was serious or just kidding with her. A bubble? “I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will. It will be as it was before,” Lemarik made another of his endless cryptic remarks and turned to look at Luke. “Will Simon of Grenoble be attending? Will Adar come to see the birth of his son?”
“I dunna know aboot me brother, but Simon ’as promised t’ be ’ere,” Luke told him.
“Surely Adar would not miss such a momentous occasion. He missed it the first time. He should be here this time.”
“Me brother will nae be th’ father o’ th’ babe, Lemarik,” Luke told him. “Merry is me woife now. I will be th’ boy’s father.”
“Ohhhh. Ahhh.” Lemarik's eyes grew wide as he swayed back to look closely at Merry's face with first one eye and then the other. “So this is what Adar has been keeping from me. You do not love him. I see. That makes things a bit different. That makes things much more complicated. But it is just a matter of some small adjustment. The boy will have his uncle as father and the nephew will be the uncle’s son. And what will the boy call his father? Uncle? Father? Hmmm. This will have to be decided. I will call him brother.”
Merry frowned. Brother?
Luke caught Lemarik’s arm and drew him away from her.
She could hear the wizard oohhing and aahhing as Luke spoke to him in a low voice. She wondered how the wizard had managed to come out of the water completely dry. His long beard fluttered in the breeze and his dark hair blew about his head as they talked. Presently, the wizard came back to her. He bent low over her hand and kissed the back of it.
“Welcome to the family of Adar, Meredith Nichole. I am your humble nephew, Adalune Kadif, but you may call me Lemarik and I will call you Merry. Your brother-in-law is my father. Your husband, my uncle, tells me that you are not well and that my presence here may be disturbing to you or distressing to you. I would not wish to be rude.”
“You are anything but rude, Lemarik.” Merry raised up slightly to look over his shoulder at Luke. “You are quite... charming. Won’t you stay for dinner?”

“Ohhh. No. I do not think that would be wise. Your Corrigan and your Simon do not like me. They are most rude to me and I would not wish to destroy them. A mighty Djinni such as myself can only allow so much rudeness in a man and they far exceed my limits in very short order. They are friends of Adar and he would be most unhappy with me if I were to feed them to the vultures.”
Merry’s eyes widened and then she smiled. He was teasing her.
“Ahh. Such a beautiful smile. Just like Adar’s wife. Her smile was like sunshine and she smelled of violets and roses, though she bathed in vanilla. Ahhh. Vanilla. Second only to frankincense and myrrh. And her baths were such wonderful things to see.”
“Ah, Lemarik.” Luke clamped one hand on the Djinni’s shoulder. “Air ye sure ye wudna want t’ come up t’ th’ keep? I can assure ye thot me Brothers will keep a civil tongue withee or they’ll answer t’ me.”
“I would not want to be a bother, Uncle,” Lemarik shook his head.
“No. Please.” Merry began to push herself out of the chair to which she seemed to be grown. Luke came to help her.
Lemarik frowned slightly and stepped back. Merry shuddered in the cooler air that had sprung up with the evening.
“Allow me,” he said, bowed low and whipped off the purple robe, wrapping her in it. “Come, come, come.” He waved one hand to Luke. Luke frowned and stepped a bit closer, taking Merry’s arm and then they were in the castle in the library.
Christopher looked up from his computer and shrieked involuntarily at the sight of the three people suddenly standing in front of the fireplace.
“Now then, that’s much better.” Lemarik took his robe from her shoulders and tossed it across one of the overstuffed armchairs in front of the fire. Luke and Merry stood looking at each other in shock. “What a wonderful fire. I do love to watch the flames. I see all sorts of things there.” The Djinni turned about and rubbed his slender hands together in front of the fire.
“Christopher?” Luke addressed the frightened apprentice. “Fetch some woine. And some tea fur th’ lassie.”
Merry found her way to the armchair and picked up the purple robe. It was heavy and smooth in her hands. A grand piece of work with deep pockets on the inside. Soft and yet strong. Warm and yet, cool to the touch. She ran her hand along the black embroidery on the hem and wondered who had sewn the work for the wizard. She sat down, holding the cloak in her lap.
“Won’t you sit down?” She asked him and waved one hand at the other chair.
“Ohhh. No. I like to stand. It is more conducive to moving about and less disturbing to watch,” Lemarik told her and then began to travel about the room, peeking into every nook and cranny. He picked up the objects on the tables and smelled of them one by one as he talked. Some of them, he tasted and made faces of delight or distaste at the results. “I came to remind my Uncle to practice his work diligently for the time of your labor draws nigh and great things will be accomplished on that day. Some of it will be very sad for me and yet, some of it will bring great joy. But he will need to be ready for that day just as you are.”
“Whattar ye talkin’ aboot?” Luke asked and backed up to the fire and put his hands behind him to keep from waving them about in agitation. His brother had taught him to be very careful when talking to his nephew. Luke had quickly learned that a little patience always stood him in good stead and usually brought the best results.
“Omar has raised a great army. And he has taken up with the Dogs of Shaitan against my protests. I am most ashamed of him. He has allowed his mind to become polluted and he believes that he has... transcended. He no longer needs his father’s wisdom and he shuns the wisdom of his grandfather. His mind has been unduly affected by his wife just as I expected would happen. She has made him turn from his truer purposes and she has ruined my beautiful son. The sadness breaks my heart.”
“Your son?” Merry turned about in the chair to watch him as he pulled random books from the shelves, opened them and then put them back.
“Ohhh. Yes. Yes. Yes. He was such a beautiful child. Wonderful. Glorious and most wise. Most kind and most polite. And then the daughter of Adar came and beguiled him with her charms and... poof.” He snapped his fingers. “He was lost to me.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait.” Merry shook her head. “Adar’s daughter? I thought you said that Adar is your father?”
“Oh, yes. Adar is my father.” Lemarik glanced at her and then continued his perusal of the books. “My son’s wife is his daughter.”
“Luke?” Merry turned to look at her husband. “Is there something here that does not make sense?”
“Mark Andrew is or was, at one toime, Adar, th’ moighty Hunter,” Luke shrugged. “Or so I’m told. Adar was or is Lemarik’s father. Nicole was and is Omar’s woife. Omar is Lemarik’s son. Nicole is Mark Ramsay and Sister Meredith’s daughter. Damn me, if I understand it, lassie.”
“There is nothing to understand.” Lemarik swayed across the room to stand next to Luke. “It is very simple.” The wizard was a bit taller than Luke and thinner. He wore a white shirt and black pants. His tall boots reached above his knees and he wore a wide belt about his waist. The hilt of a jeweled dagger sparkled on his left side. He looked very much like a pirate to Merry, except for the long beard which she did not like. “Mark Ramsay was Adar before he came to this world. His brother, not Luke, but another brother, chased him from the heavens because he was jealous of my mother’s attentions to him. His brother wanted my mother for his own, but she did not return his affections. As soon as I was old enough, he chased me away as well and I followed Adar here. This is a wonderful world if you do not pay too much attention to the workings of men. Adar had himself born as a man and was a great wizard, a mighty sorcerer, very powerful and then he was enchanted by a sorceress. Alas. She was one of his own students. She imprisoned him for many years until his brother found him and released him with the intent to destroy him, but Adar had a surprise for him. A wonderfully powerful work of magick. And he sent his brother to the halls of dust and ashes. But his brother was also very powerful and very tricky, indeed and he soon escaped the land of Kurnugi and came to search again for Adar, but Adar had found his way into the womb with Luke and there he remained hidden for nine moons with him while his elder brother cast about in darkness for him.”
Merry sat with her mouth hanging open as Lemarik told this story. Luke stood by the fire, also staring at him in disbelief. Mark Andrew had never told him any of this. It sounded like some great faery tale to him and he would never have believed it, except that Mark Andrew had warned him to always be polite to the Djinni at all costs. The Djinni was most dangerous, Mark Andrew had told him. Extremely powerful and very unpredictable. Mark had told him to merely listen to him and agree with him for the most part and then report to him everything that the Djinni might say. So far, this was the third visit that the wizard had paid to them since Merry had come here. The first visit had been in the company of Mark Andrew and he had departed with him again without speaking to Luke personally. The second visit had been very brief. The wizard had stayed only a few minutes, inquired after Merry’s health and then gone about his business as mysteriously as he had appeared. This was the first time that the Djinni had come inside the keep and actually talked with them. Luke was fascinated and Merry was beside herself.
Christopher reappeared with the hot tea and wine Luke had requested. He set the tray on the desk and poured drinks for them. Lemarik took tea.
“And then what happened?” Merry asked him when he had his cup of tea in his hands and Christopher had left them.
“Ahh. Then a terrible thing happened. Luke, here, was born. And Adar was not ready. He did not want to come out of hiding. He was afraid that his brother would find him in his helpless state of infancy. Luke’s mother tried to make him be born, but he refused and she died.”

Sample Sunday ~ April 17

It's Sample Sunday again!! I thought I would put up a sample from Tempo Rubato this week. It is currently selling for only $.99 at Amazon for Kindle and available in paperback as well for $19.95. I realize that is a very high price, but the book is very long and unfortunately I cannot lower the price or I certainly would. It is an adventurous romp from Austria to West Texas to East Florida with stops in between as the good guys try to escape from the bad guys. The novel is a tribute to my favorite classical composer, Wolfgang Mozart, and includes elements of Sci-Fi, Paranormal Romance and Time Travel adventure. Now for the sample:
Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Tempo-Rubato-St...

Paperback

The characters are on the run, but somehow the leading antagonist is still with them it seems.

“Edward!” She whispered urgently and held up the towel. He came to look at it grimacing at the sight of the blood.
“What’s that?” He asked frowning.
“I thought he was sick last night.” She said. “But I didn’t realize...”
Edward went to bend over the sleeping form and peered closely at him.
“He doesn’t look any different than usual.” He whispered.
“Should I?” William opened one eye and looked up at him.
Edward straightened up quickly.
“Well, I don’t know.” He said and shrugged. “You tell me, old buddy.” He held up the towel.
“It’s nothing.” William mumbled and climbed out of the bed.
“Where’s Derek?” He asked and was answered by Derek himself as he emerged from the bathroom.
“Good morning all.” Derek said cheerfully. “Next!”
“You go.” Edward looked at Elisse. “I want to talk to Derek about my clothes.”
Elisse took the bloody towel from Edward and picked up her new clothes before making her way to the bathroom. Now she had something new to ponder. What could possibly be causing him to cough up blood? Surely it was nothing serious, she lied to herself grimly trying to recall every disease in the known world which would produce such a symptom.
Wearing the new clothes and Vash’s makeup, Elisse felt like a million dollars. She came out to find everyone waiting for her. William looked very strange in the flowered shirt, but he seemed quite pleased with Derek’s pick. He passed her on the way to bathroom and winked at her as if to say ‘it’s all right’.
“I’m off to find breakfast and new wheels.” Derek told them and left her with Edward.
Edward immediately returned to the subject of William’s illness.
“How long has he been doing that?” He asked in a low voice.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen it.” She said sitting on the bed brushing her hair.
“I’ve never seen anything like that mess Frieda left him in back at the company compound.” Edward opened the door to peek outside. “I thought that the blood came from his fight with those guys. You know, when he lost his tooth?”
“Yes, I remember.” She said and shuddered at the thought. “So did I.”
“It makes no sense.” Edward closed the door. “What do you think will happen to us? We can’t keep running. Frieda will catch us sooner or later.”
“That’s true.” She said quietly. “But I really haven’t had time to think. I’ve been too busy just trying to survive each minute.”
Edward laughed and went to look at his head again. “I know what you mean.” He said in earnest. “I told you that you would be very busy in your new job. They will never pay you what its worth.”
William came out to join them and went to sit on the bed by Elisse.
“I should have killed her.” He said in a low voice speaking German.
She stopped brushing her hair in mid-stroke and looked at him. She had almost forgotten about the horrible threat he had made to Frieda in the hospital. It had seemed like an empty threat made in the heat of the moment.
“She won’t leave me alone.” He said rubbing the back of his head. He took her hairbrush and began to brush his own hair. “She told me I couldn’t run away.”
“You dreamed of her?” Elisse took the brush back and took over the job for him.
“No!” He said. “....yes. No, it was very real.”
“English.” Edward said with little enthusiasm and picked up his dirty clothes from the floor to begin cleaning out the pockets and headed toward the bathroom for his turn at the plush amenities offered by the grimy little establishment.
William ignored Edward. “She is here in my head.” He pointed at his temple.
“She is a terrible woman.” Elisse sympathized with him. “I don’t know how she does what she does, but she can’t reach you here and when...”
“No!” He said and caught her hand to stop the brushing. “She is inside my head. When I go to sleep, she is there. And sometimes even when I’m awake she’s there.”
“I don’t understand.” Elisse said in English.
“Me either.” Edward stuck his head out of the bathroom to look at them. “I really wish you would speak English.”

Sample Sunday ~ March 13, 2011

(In this scene from the Red Cross of Gold X:. Genesis 6:5, things are not going well for Brother Dambretti, Knight of the Golden Eagle and his bride, Jasmine de Bleu. It's time for the Chevalier du Morte to return from exile and the Italian Knight surely needs Brother Ramsay's help.)


Lucio Dambretti had been expecting this call, though he had prayed fervently that it would not come. He had been to see Simon and his family only a few days earlier and the Healer had confided the news to him they were going in to have Rachel checked out by real doctors at the Salvator Mundi International Hospital in Rome. Simon had also told him that he expected bad news. Simon’s medical knowledge was extensive, though not infallible. He always said that he was a Healer, not a physician. Of course, his specialty or mystery was in the Healing Arts especially for members of the Council of Twelve, but he had gleaned a great deal of knowledge about human anatomy and general medicine for mortals over the centuries. Lucio would have trusted him with anything up to and including heart surgery. If Simon was taking his beloved Rachel to see a bunch of strangers, then something was terribly wrong.
He had been drunk ever since his return from Rome where he had met up with Simon at the Healer’s request. Simon had taken his gregarious family on a holiday to see the sights, visit the Vatican and generally show his children a bit of their country’s heritage. Rachel and her mother were raising the boys as Italians and though they all strongly favored their blonde, French father, they spoke perfect Italian to Lucio’s delight and like their ‘Uncle Lucio’, they spoke all other languages as secondary. Now he sat on the edge of his bed, dressed only in his socks, staring at the floor in front of him forlornly. He did not know if he could bear this. His head hurt terribly, his eyelids were puffy and swollen and he had no idea when he had gone to bed or how long he had slept. The Grand Master was already angry with him from their last unpleasant encounter. He had actually agreed to meet with Simon in Rome to confess his sins and had come away completely wrecked and without confession. Simon could not be bothered with such mundane details now.
And Jasmine! How much longer could he put up with her?
She came into the room as if on cue, picked up his trousers from the dresser and flung them at his head. He caught them from the air and threw them on the floor in front of her feet. A good pair they were. Expensive. Expensive and in need of laundering. He couldn’t possibly wear them… again.
“Where are you going now, sugar?” she asked him, her tone incongruent with the words. She sounded as if she was actually concerned with his activities, but she acted as if she couldn’t wait for him to leave.
“I have to go see Simon. Rachel is dying,” he told her bluntly and got up to find something more suitable to wear to a death. His mood was as black as the occasion and he was in no mood for an argument. His closet was a bit spare. Most of his clothes were lying in dirty heaps in the floor on top of his boots. He found a white wool suit in wrappers, a dark blue blazer that still smelled fresh and one of his priestly black outfits cut of the latest design. Black. Black. He reached for the hanger.
“Are you sure it's Simon you are going to see or is it Ruth?” she sked as she stepped in front of him. “And since when have you been concerned for Rachel’s well-being? That idiot little man is killing her with all those babies.”
“Stand aside,” he told her in a low voice. Ruth, again! He should have married Ruth. At least Ruth treated him with respect and... Ruth adored him. Ruth would have cleaned his clothes for him. Ruth would have cooked his supper and Ruth would have supported him in his time of grief. In fact, most of his good clothes and boots were at Ruth’s apartment. He would have to go by there to pack a bag worth taking along on a trip. Jasmine could talk all she wanted about Ruth. It was her right, but she had no right to say anything about Simon d’Ornan or his family.
“Or what?” she raised her chin slightly. “Will you yell at me and tell me again what a terrible wife I am and complain about my cooking?”
“What cooking?” he asked and made a move to go around her on his way to the shower, but she caught him by a particularly sensitive handful of flesh, stopping him short in his tracks. “Perhaps I should cook this? Eh? You never use it any more around here. Or perhaps I should take it as a memento and return to America where I am appreciated,” she told him. “Perhaps I could get something for it in an antique auction.”
Lucio took hold of her wrist gingerly and then crushed the bones together slowly until she relented.
“Don’ta toucha me,” he told her with as much contempt as he could muster in his present condition. “Go to America! Go on! I don’ta care. Just senda me your address and I willa senda you some money. That’sa all you want ina the firsta place.”
Jasmine followed him into the bathroom, laughing and making fun of his accented English as he made ready to take a shower. The very same accent that she had told him was so very charming only a short few years earlier. She grabbed his arm, spun him around in the doorway and kissed him. His anger with her melted immediately as was always the case and again, he suspected her of practicing witchcraft on him. How could she hurt his heart so badly one moment and mess with his mind the next, and then, in the blink of an eye, become the most desirable woman in the whole world the next moment? It wasn’t normal and he knew he wasn’t that hard up. He could have other women. In fact, he had another woman… In fact, he’d had several women before settling on Ruth as a replacement for Jasmine.
“I don’t suppose you could find it in your heart to bring me something for my headache?” he asked her hopefully. She was still as beautiful as ever. If she would just stop nagging him, there might be some way to reconcile their differences and make the marriage work.
“Of course, sugar,” she smiled and used her best southern magnolia on him before sauntering from the room. He watched her go, shaking his head in confusion.
He was in the shower when she returned. She slipped off her robe and joined him there with a bottle of clear liquid.
“Here you go, sweetie,” she said and turned him around.
She took a swallow of the stuff in her mouth before kissing him. This was how she always gave him his ‘medicine’ as she called it. It burned all the way down. That was just what he needed, something else to drink. But whatever it was, it was good for his more and more frequent headaches. Furthermore, it cured all the symptoms of his hangovers and left him ready to start drinking again. On the open market, it would have made some pharmaceutical company a mint, but Jasmine said it was an old family recipe. A secret. If he were mortal, he would be dead by now.
Ruth would have brought him an aspirin and a glass of tomato juice. His life was becoming one long string of drunken stupors and the Grand Master was onto him about his wife’s treatment of him, accusing him of all sorts of things.
“I’m sorry, baby,” his wife told him as she began to wash him with a sponge full of fragrant soap bubbles. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She had taken on the tone she always used when she wanted something.
“You always say that, Jasmine,” he told her and winced when she applied the sponge to the area in question. “But it's always the same with you. Can’t we just forget about this Ruth thing?”
“I will if you will forget about her,” she told him and wrapped her long, slender arms about his neck. He let her kiss him once or twice and then took the sponge from her. He didn’t have time for this.
“Jasmine. I have to go,” he said. “I’m sorry.” If he allowed her to do this, he would never make it to Simon’s and that would be unforgivable. And he could not… would not forget about Ruth. Every time Jasmine hurt him, she made him think of Ruth. Beautiful, gentle Ruth.
“You always have to go,” she sniffed and pushed him away, almost sending him down on the slippery tiles.
“And I will always have to go,” he told her and turned his back to her. “I told you that before we were married. You know what I do for a living. Duty calls.”
“Doo-ty callsa!” she mimicked his accent. “And if I am not here when you come back, what will you do?”
“Nothing,” he told her honestly. It would be a relief.
He heard her get out of the shower and then he heard the bathroom door slam.
When he came out of the bathroom a while later, she was gone. Her stuff was still there, of course, strewn everywhere. She would be back.
He put on the black suit and perused the rest of his ruined wardrobe sadly. What had he done to himself? This was not what he was about. He splashed some of the cologne that Merry had made for him in her lab and breathed in the fragrance.
Thinking of Meredith was almost as painful as thinking of Simon’s plight. When he came home from Simon’s house, things were going to change. He would go back to what he had been for the last six or seven hundred years and Jasmine could stay or go, but she would not be welcome in his room again. His mind raced as he stuffed his dirty clothes in a trash bag. He would drop them off to be cleaned, himself. He would start doing a lot of things, himself. He would install a lock on his door, if necessary and he would hire a cook and maybe have a maid come in two or three times a week. He kicked some of his dirty underwear out of his way viciously and put on his tie. He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. At least he had not ruined his looks, but that was hardly in his capacity to do, was it? Vanity! Another sin. But not a great sin. And de Bleu had said everyone would be there. Everyone except Jasmine and he would have to plead lies and excuses for her absence. He would be very happy to see his Brothers even under these black circumstances.
And perhaps, Sister Meredith as well. His mood lightened immediately. Merry would be glad to see him and he would let her fuss over him all she liked this time. She was always glad to see him. Always trying to make amends for breaking his heart. He brushed his curly hair and smiled at himself again. Si`, things would be different now. He would make it so. And Merry would listen to his troubles. She always listened to his troubles. Perhaps he could convince her to listen to his confession as well. If not Merry, then Louis Champlain would be glad to oblige him. Then he would feel better and he could confess Jasmine away… again.
These thoughts helped him take his mind off the terrible ordeal in front of him. He was Simon’s Brother and his friend. Death always brought people together. The death of John Paul’s wife had been on his mind lately and it seemed as if that had happened only yesterday. At least, he would not suffer this same thing on account of Jasmine. He chastised himself at the thought that he would have been affected very little if Jasmine jumped off the roof. But thinking of John Paul, made him think of Mark Andrew and a different kind of pain filled his head. Wasn’t it about time for him to come back? He glanced at his watch as if to confirm this thought. Meredith had called him three times only the week before asking if he thought Mark would come home to Scotland or Italy first. The three calls that he had loved and hated at the same time had set Jasmine off. Why was Meredith Sinclair calling him all the time? Three times in six months could hardly be classified as all the time. And he was glad that Jasmine thought he might still have something going on with Meredith. It did his heart good to think of it and wished that it could be so. If only… if only… if only…
He was about to leave the apartment when his wife burst back through the front door and began to rummage around in the pile of junk on their dining room table. The gold inlayed, hand lacquered replica of an ancient Egyptian chest covered with hieroglyphs and a scene depicting the Pharaoh Akhenaten and his family worshipping the Aten on the front was barely visible under the fluff of nylon and lace on top of it. He’d brought it out three weeks ago to clean it and clear out the contents, but it had become part of the clutter and he’d forgotten it was there.
The apartment was a wreck, but she would not allow him to bring anyone in to clean it, even though she would not clean it herself. And he did not have time to clean it. He was too busy drinking, staying drunk and figuring out ways to get away to see Ruth. He was sick of it. His beautiful apartment and all his Egyptian artifacts were buried under layers of discarded clothing, newspapers, shopping bags and what she loosely called accessories. A girl has to accessorize, she told him. He picked up a wine-soaked magazine and held it up, looking at the mess it had made on the surface of the mahogany dining table. He dropped the zine on the floor and kicked it against the wall viciously. She paid him no attention.
How she had learned about Ruth was beyond him. He must have talked in his sleep, but then Jasmine didn’t sleep with him, did she? She had his other bedroom… all in perfect order. A virtual princess’s chamber while the rest of his house went to hell in a hand basket. Never had he met a more self-centered person. She even put Cecile Valentino to shame.
“What are you looking for?” he asked her as he snatched his car keys from the pile that was about to topple on the floor.
“This!” She turned and held up a plastic card with flickering red lights on it. American Express, fully charged and ready to go. Ha!
“Ahhh. Money. Of course, and I thought you missed me,” he nodded. She could spend a lot of money in a short time. Had spent a lot of money. His money! Money he had saved and held onto for years upon years. It had once seemed to him that he would have never run out of money, but now he was not so sure. She had been steadily changing his money into objects, bringing it in the front door and throwing it out the back door for going on five years.
“When will you be home?” she asked him.
“Does it matter?” he answered with his own question and raised both eyebrows as she walked past him with her car keys jingling in her hand.
“I would cook supper for you if I knew.”
“Isn’t it past supper already?” he asked in surprise and glanced at the clock on the mantel.
“So?” She shrugged. “Breakfast then.”
“I may be gone for quite some time,” he told her. He didn’t want supper. Not with her. He would probably go back to Ruth’s after he left Simon unless Sister Meredith was there and then he would be going wherever she was going. Even if it was the depths of hell. And if it was the Villa, that would be good as well. Jasmine couldn’t come there and he still had his rooms there with everything he needed to last another century or two. He would not be back tonight.
“Well, then, arriva derki, baby. Call me when you get back. I’ll have my phone on,” she told him and was gone out the door.
He crossed himself and looked about the ruins once more. It had been so nice here once. Jasmine had not been listening to his answers. She had no idea where he was going or why or how long he would be gone and didn’t really care.
“Santa Maria!” he muttered and then sighed.
He stuffed his keys in his pocket and left the place to rot.
Mark Andrew would get a kick out of this when he returned. The man had warned him a hundred times to stay away from women as tall as Jasmine! Nevar, evar take a wooman ’oo can look ye in th’ eye. Tis dangerous, mon! He remembered his Brother’s words from a distant place and a distant time. What did Mark Andrew know of tall women? But Mark Andrew was always full of surprises. The man was probably in Rome now with another trio of hairdressers. It was surprising that the Grand Master had not already sent him to retrieve the lost Knight of Death. Surely it was past time for Ramsay to come home. He missed him… terribly.

Libyan Sanctions

What is it about the state of the world's collective attitude concerning priorities that allows things like this to happen?
Gas prices are going through the roof, not due to real expenses, but due to speculation in the marketplace.  Everyone recognizes the devastating effect this will have on the shaky US economy.  The unrest in the Middle East, especially Libya is driving the price up at a phenomenal rate.  In Libya, people are dying in the streets at the hands of an obviously insane dictator along the same lines as Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden.  Muammar Qadaffi is not only mad, he is a war criminal and a terrorist.  And yet he is only one man.
OK, in order to deal with this growing crisis, WE, THE PEOPLE, have sent our Secretary of State (yearly salary $191,300) to Europe in order to DISCUSS the possibility and likelihood, the merit and impact of kicking Libya off the Human Rights Council.... say what?  Huh?
That's like saying "OK, you bad, bad man, Mr. Qadaffi!!  If you don't play nice, we're not going to let you sit on the Christmas decorating committee!!"Muammar must be crying into this pillow every night over the possibility of a bunch of people he doesn't even know in an organization he doesn't even care about kicking off of a decorating committee for a holiday he doesn't even celebrate.  Geesh!! When will our own brand of madness be replaced with a little common sense?

Sample Sunday ~ Feb. 27, 2011

The Red Cross of Gold II:. The King of Terrors

Chapter Ten of Twenty-Five
Terrors shall make him afraid on every side, and shall drive him to his feet.


“Valentino was right!” Mark Andrew raised his head and coughed out the words before blowing his nose loudly in his handkerchief. “Merry had no interest in me, Brother. She has what she wants…. My son! I was a fool, Lucio. Again.”

“You are taking this too hard, Brother,” Lucio tried to talk to him. It was useless. It sickened him to hear Mark Andrew speak of Merry in such terms. His Brother was in the deepest despair, but he no longer seemed as angry as before. Lucio had never witnessed such depth of feelings for any woman. The Will of God was a comforting thing in deed. The blame for everything good and evil could be attributed to this one thing though he hardly thought the Creator capable of creating evil, he did feel that evil was something that God allowed one to bring upon one’s self in order to teach life’s lessons. It seemed a shame to him that Mark learned his lessons in such a harsh manner. But even the immense emotional suffering of his Brother gave him a twinge of jealousy.

“How could I have been so stupid? So arrogant?” Mark was a bit calmer now, but his voice was still hoarse from crying. “Tell me, Brother. And what did she do to poison the boy against me so that he can’t even speak to me? He was terrified of me. Tell me, Brother!”

“I can’t tell you anything,” Lucio sighed. “I would have had to hear it myself to judge. It is not the end of the world.”

“No? Oh, yes, that’s right,” Mark’s tone changed. He rolled down the window and threw the monogrammed handkerchief into the wind viciously. “What was I thinking? That’s what we’re waiting on. The end of the world so we can go into battle for God. God… who has done this to me. And to you.”

“No,” Lucio looked at him in alarm. “You must not say such things! It is dangerous.”

“Dangerous! I’ll tell you what is dangerous, Brother,” Mark Andrew slammed his fist against the dash of the car again. Certainly they would have to buy the whole car if he kept destroying it. “The company of women is dangerous. Just like the damned Rule says.”

Lucio sighed. He could not have imagined this would happen, but it was understandable. Seven years was, after all, a long time in a normal life. Perhaps not to the Council of Twelve, but to the rest of the world, it was a long time. He only wished that he could have spoken with her on his Brother’s behalf. He wondered what Mark Andrew had said to her and could imagine what it might have been. Mark Andrew was good on paper. It was Lucio Dambretti who had the silver tongue. Ramsay should have sent him as an emissary as had been the custom of old. He could have arranged everything, he felt sure. He could have had her primed and ready to say ‘I do’ even as Mark Andrew walked through her door. And he could have drawn up the marriage agreement as well, but the world had changed.

“Perhaps you need a mediator,” he suggested hopefully.

“For what?” Mark looked at him and then put his hand over his mouth. “Pull over.”

Lucio bounced the car off the highway and barely missing a large rural mailbox before he managed to stop. Mark Andrew opened the door and crawled out on the side of the road. Lucio sat under the steering wheel staring at the next mailbox, wondering who else lived out here in this godforsaken country. It was the same stretch of deserted country highway where the cows had attacked the van that he and Simon d’Ornan had been waiting in for Sir Beaujold. He looked around quickly in the moonlight, but saw no cattle in the pastures beyond the fencing. He climbed out of the car and went round to find his Brother heaving up his latest meal. An unnerving sight. The Italian tried to remember the last time he had seen his Brother sick…. A long, long time ago. Roasted rat did not agree with the Scot’s constitution any more than a broken heart it would seem.
When he was done, Lucio helped him up and offered his own monogrammed handkerchief. Mark snatched the cloth, wiped his mouth and threw it in the ditch without hesitation.

“It is the Will of God, Brother,” Lucio told him and received a punch in his ribs from Ramsay’s elbow as the man suddenly turned on him.

“Don’t tell me about the Will of God!” Mark shouted at him and shoved him back against the fender of the car. “If He were here this moment I would show Him the edge of my sword.”

“You are beside yourself, Brother,” Lucio lowered his head and rubbed his tender ribs. He had never heard anyone express a desire to kill God. He knew that Mark Andrew was only taking out his frustration on the nearest object… himself. It had happened many times before, just not quite this bad. He should have seen it coming.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mark continued and pressed his hands to the sides of his head. “I would kill Him and set the world free of his tyranny.”

“I know enough to know that you are out of your mind with grief and you don’t know what you are saying,” Lucio told him and then had to duck as Mark Andrew took a swing at him.

Lucio backed around the front of the car to get away from him. There was no telling what the man would do if the Italian allowed him to knock him out here in the middle of nowhere.
“Don’t do this, Brother,” Lucio warned him.

Mark Andrew was in a fit of rage. Words were useless. The Italian was suddenly very grateful that the golden sword was carefully tucked into the trunk of the car when the Scot swung at him again.
Lucio dodged the heavy-handed shots and waited for the opportune moment to present itself. He let him swing again and then punched him once in his weakest spot, his stomach. Mark doubled over. Lucio grabbed his shoulder, pulled him up and delivered one well placed blow on his jaw. He had done it before. Too simple. All you had to know was where the weak spots. He caught his Brother up under the arms and deposited him back in the car before slamming the door.

“It is the Will of God, whether you agree or not,” he said with finality as he dusted off his hands.

What Is It About Communism?

What is it about communism that seems to make entire governments lose their collective minds? The same might be said for socialism and Marxism. I don't know. I've watched these types of governments fail for years and now I'm watching my own government fail as in Epic Fail. The American Dream is defined differently by many people simply because everyone's dream is different. The American Dream is simply the ability of Americans to actually have the opportunity to live their dreams whatever they are as long as they are within reason and legal. Of course, reason has left the building on Elvis' heels it seems.
But now we have people trying to stand behind podiums and tell us that the American Dream is socialism or Marxism or communism or anything other than capitalism. Capitalism is the very basis of the American Dream. Without Capitalism there is no dream there is only the HIVE MIND!! I, personally, do not want to be a worker bee or ant or a non-existent non-sentient being in a group of non-existent non-sentient beings, moving along with blinders, earmuffs in place and muzzles firmly fixed over our mouths. I want to be free to pass or fail, rise or fall on my own. I don't want my accolades taken away because "It's not fair to the rest of the herd!" Nor do I want accolades that were earned by someone else. Such attitudes completely disassemble any notion of ambition or competition or excellence of person because it basically boils down to one question: "What is the point?" Why excel if you must share the prize with 7 billion other mindless non-participants simply because they are?
I love the old song that says "Some they will and some they won't and some you just can't tell, some they do and some they don't, with some it's just as well...."
But here is what set off this rant:
http://tinyurl.com/23wvjuh

Author Interview

Miss Sibel Hodge has graciously put up an interview with me today on her blog. The link is: http://www.sibelhodge.com/my-blog/ind...

Sample Sunday ~ Tempo Rubato

This little scene is a conversation between the two main protagonists in Tempo Rubato ~ Stolen Time, now on sale at Amazon for Kindle for only $.99.  Also available from Smashwords.
Excerpt:
"You really believe you were actually poisoned?"  She asked in disbelief even though she had written an entire paper to prove that it might have been so. "I don't believe.  I know."  He said.  "I received the letter." "What letter?"  She asked though she had some idea of what he was talking about. "They were constructing a new building and according to the old ways, they needed to sacrifice a member in order to consecrate the building."  He continued.  "Everyone knew that someone would be chosen. It was all supposed to be symbolic, of course.  No one would actually be killed." "What?"  She shivered at the thought.  Again, this was part of the study she had made, but it sounded so much more sinister now than when it had been just a legend of sorts.  "They sent the poison in a letter."  He said.  "The letter congratulated me on having been chosen for the 'special honor'.  The poison was in the letter.  By the time I had opened it, it was too late." Elisse said nothing.   "I destroyed the letter; of course, because I was afraid someone else would be affected by the stuff."  He told her.  "There was nothing that could be done.  I kept hoping it wasn't so, but then I became ill and I never recovered.  Not until Frieda took me.  In fact, when the two men came, I assumed that they were from the group and that the time had come.  You can imagine my surprise when it turned out to be otherwise.  That's why I never much minded what happened... until you came along.  I was a dead man and Frieda saved my life." "You've never told Edward?"  She asked. "Of course not!"  William looked at her and smiled.  "He's a member.  Didn't you know?" "Then you really don't trust him?"  She asked. "I trust Edward, but I don't trust his loyalties."  He shrugged.  "I am not sure where his loyalties will eventually lie." "How do you know about Edward?"  She asked not wanting to accept that the good psychiatrist could be a threat. "One member knows another."  William shrugged.  "There were others. Several in the orchestra." "Did he ever say any thing at all about it?" "No.  And that is what makes me worry."  He told her.  "Edward is no mucky-muck.  He doesn't display the trappings.  He exhibits no outward signs.  That means he is advanced.  I have thought much about this.  I believe it is no accident that Edward is with me.  He was sent." "But surely you are not a threat to this... this... group now!  Not two hundred years later!"  She exclaimed.  "Why?  How?" "Because I know their plan."  He said simply.  "I was there when it was hatched.  You might say I was one of the founding fathers of it, although somewhat reluctantly.  But now, as then, I am a turncoat.  I am a risk.  Even now they cannot allow such risks to exist." "Do you mean to tell me that you think they are still after you?"  She asked incredulously. "What could you possibly do to them?" "I only know that Edward is not what he seems. It's a matter of principle."  He said and then stopped to sit on an upturned bucket that had washed up on the shore.  He took off his shoes and socks and began to roll up his slacks. "What are you doing?"  She looked at him in surprise. "I'm going in the water."  He told her. "Do you swim?"  She glanced around the beach.  They had left the line of apartments and condominiums behind.  There was nothing but beach, water and dunes to be seen. "No."  He told her stuffing his socks in his shoes. "Would you like to learn?"  She asked and raised one eyebrow. "No."  He looked up at her and narrowed his eyes. "We could go swimming."  She suggested playfully and sat on the sand to take off her shoes.  "We would get wet."  He told her, frowning. "Of course." He watched her as she began to undress, laying her clothing carefully on the sand. "What are you doing?!"  He asked.  It was his turn to be surprised.  "You can't do that." "Why not?"  She waved one arm toward the dunes.  "Who's to see?" "Well..."  He looked around and then back at her wide-eyed. She finished her task while he sat speechless holding his shoes in his hands. When she had her 'swimsuit' on, she tiptoed down the water and waded out on the gently sloping shore until the water was lapping at her waist and then ducked beneath the waves.  It was wonderfully warm and all thoughts of Edward disappeared along with the rest of the troubling thoughts that had been plaguing them.  She didn't want to hear any more about secret societies just then.  It would be just what they needed, another faction out to get him. William sat on the bucket unmoving.  She waved and beckoned for him to come in.  He shook his head and looked around again. "You're missing all the fun!"  She called to him and he stood up. At last, she had him on the short end of the stick.  It was wonderful to see him perplexed and taken aback by her actions.  He had always been in control even when it seemed he was not.  She had felt as if she were on the outside looking in and that he held all the cards;  that she could never express her own personality without interfering with his.  But now he was lost.  She had been in his element long enough and now she had him in hers. She wondered if he would take the challenge and follow her for a change or if his antiquated sense of propriety would win out.  She laughed and waved at him again and ducked under the water to come up with her hair wet and streaming down her back. He pulled off his shirt.  Then he made a motion for her to turn around.  She turned around and waited.  After a few minutes he caught up with her. "I have never been in so much water!"  He exclaimed looking around him.  "It makes me feel very small." "We are very small."  She put her arm around his neck and allowed him to hold her up in the water.  "We are so small, in fact, that no one can see us.  We can't be found.  We are lost in the vastness of the sea.  Never to be seen again by human eyes." William sank to his knees and the water came up to their necks. "Now we are even smaller."  He told her.  "But I believe there are creatures in these waters which could easily swallow us altogether whole without even tasting us." "There are creatures on the land that would do the same thing, if we let them catch us."  She laughed and slipped into the water to face him.  She kissed him and he looked at her in surprise. "So this is what Americans do?"  He asked her. "No, this is what tiny sea creatures from Austria do."  She told him.  "Now turn around and lie across my arms.  I'm going to hold you up and you are going to swim." "No, I don't think so."  He shook his head.  "It would not be... fitting." "What?  There is absolutely nothing wrong with it." She said taking his arm.  "I'm going to hold you up and show you how to kick your feet so you can stay up on your own.  You never know when you may need to swim for your life." "But you're a lady and I'm... I'm..."  He was genuinely perplexed. "You shouldn't hold me up." "You won't be heavy at all!"  She frowned and ducked under the water to grab his feet, upending him with very little effort.  She thought it highly unlikely that he had ever played in the water, but did not know for sure.  At least nothing had ever been written about it.   He came up sputtering with his hair in his face. "You've just never been in the water with a naked lady before!"  She laughed at his expression. "What did I tell you about saying never, Lisserl?"  He asked and ducked under the water to grab her feet performing the same trick. It was her turn to be surprised.  She came up spraying water in his face and slinging her hair. "There was plenty of water in Vienna... and Rome... and Paris..."  He told her.  "Why, they even have water in England, but you are right about one thing.  I have never been in the water with a naked lady." He began to chase her through the water splashing and ducking her as if he had done it all his life.  This lasted only a short time before the exertion took its toll and they were both feeling exhaustion creeping up on them again.  The first gray light preceding the inevitable sunrise began to grow in the east.  Elisse knew they could not stay much longer or they would be taking a terrible risk.  She held him at bay by wrapping both of her arms around him and they sank in the water. "Do you think we could come here to live?"  He asked her. "I suppose anything is possible."  She said in earnest. "Do you think we could stay here now?"  He asked and kissed her neck. "I don't know."  She thought that would probably not be possible. "Do you think we will ever be rid of Edward?"  He asked and kissed her eyes. "I don't know."  She could not think of William without attaching Edward. "Do you think you will want to stay with me forever?"  He asked and kissed her forehead. "Forever is a long time."  She told him. "Do you think that whatever is biting my toe could be deadly?" He asked and raised both eyebrows. "What?"  She looked down at the dark water surrounding them. He laughed. "You know that there is more to life than just holding onto each other."  She said running her finger down his neck.  "We may not be allowed to stay together." "I won't have it any other way."  He told her matter-of-factly.  "I've been giving that some thought.  I won't have it." "I don't see how you can prevent it."   "I will find a way."  He assured her and kissed her almost desperately and released her.  "Edward and the rest of them be damned.  I don't give one good care about their secrets and their plans and their science.  They brought me here and I didn't ask to come.  If you will stay with me, I'll find a way to keep you." "I have no intention of leaving of my own accord."  She told him.   "I have heard him professing his love for you twice now." He told her.  She was surprised to hear that and could not imagine when he might have heard the second time. Could he actually read aloud and listen at the same time? "He may have a lot to offer you." "He has nothing I want."  She shrugged and then shivered.  The breeze had picked up and her skin was becoming cold. "This could be very nice, it we had more time."  He told her and kissed her nose. "We'll have to do it again."  She agreed. "We could do it again now." He suggested and looked around her at the growing light on the horizon.  He kissed her and pulled her into his lap, but a low whistle caught his attention and he immediately dumped her in the water.  She foundered and came up to see him frowning toward the shoreline where someone was whistling to them.   "Oh, my God."  Elisse whispered and clung to him in the water.  Edward stood on the sand holding up several pieces of their clothing.

Oh yeah? Well, I have a gun!

I just heard a news report about a guy who walked into a pharmacy and demanded drugs. He said "I have a bomb!" to which the pharmacist replied "I have a gun!" The would be robber left.

Immediately, I thought what if?

A man walks into a bank and says to the teller "Give me all your money. I have a rock!"

To which she replies "Oh, yeah? Well, I have paper!"

To which he replies "Oh, yeah? Well, I have scissors!" He lays the rock on the counter.

To which she replies "Oh, yeah? Well, I have a rock!" And then she grabs the rock, bashes him over the head and sounds the alarm.

What is it with criminals these days? No, no! What is it with people these days? It seems that incompetence reigns supreme from the top to the bottom of society. Imagine a would-be criminal putting up his/her resume on Monster, looking for a job as a robber. Now, the potential employee is sitting back, waiting for the job offers to roll in. But nooooooo, this applicant receives a terse email from Monster stating that there are currently no openings that match their qualifications. These people are not even qualified to be CRIMINALS.

Believe me when I say that this is not far from the truth. If you don't believe me, watch a few episodes of "World's Dumbest Criminals". I have met one of the people portrayed on the series... I believe I've met examples of everyone of them at one time or another during my career as a prison official.

Just an afterthought: You think criminals are dumb? You've heard jokes about them? Yes, but to what do we attribute this?

In a popular grocery store yesterday I saw a tag under a shelf of canned soups:



2 for $4.00 or $1.78 a can

Today I received a flyer in the mail from the same store and an ad read:

5 for $5 Chicken Breast (limit 2 packages with an additional purchase of $10.00)

So, it is no wonder the teachers are on strike in Wisconsin. They need more money so they can teach less to more students for more money than would-be criminals can ever steal unless they go to work writing ads for supermarkets.... well, duh!