Orrin Jason Bradford's Blog, page 4
October 3, 2021
Babble Installments #8
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble
One young boy is the key to the universe.Installment # 8 (If you’ve missed an installment, go HERE.)
Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.
But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.
(And if you’re enjoying the story, please share it with your friends.)
Chapter 5
A couple of miles outside Lincolnton the bus’s rear tire blew. Despite her best efforts to stay awake, Angie had nodded off when she heard the muffled explosion followed by the thump-thump of the flat, and the bus almost immediately turned off the road. The driver put the bus in park, stretched as he stood up, and without a word to anyone opened the door to go inspect the damage.
Since bus companies tried to wring as much profit as possible, flat tires and breakdowns happened routinely. The companies ran the buses hard with a minimum of maintenance or inspections, ignoring most regulations since they were rarely enforced. Breakdowns were so common the flat tire drew little attention, though a few people pulled out their cell phones to alert their loved ones that once again they’d not be arriving on time.
Angie sighed and tried to resume her nap, but a growing tightness in her solar plexus wouldn’t let her relax. Over the last decade of running and hiding, she’d learned to pay attention to such inner rumblings, so she sat up and looked around. Bobbie continued to sleep quietly beside her, as did most of the other travelers. No one paid her any attention. She relaxed a bit, but something continued to nag at her.
She closed her eyes and immediately the image of the old bum in the bus station flashed in her mind’s eye. Why had he been so quick to look away, to pretend he hadn’t been watching them? A second image superimposed itself on the original one. The scene was the back alley of the artist commune, and the view was from above as she climbed down the fire escape. She’d thought at the time that there’d been no one in the alley, but she now realized she’d been wrong. He’d been there. It had to have been the same man. The dirty bandage around his head gave him away. She’d just been in too much of a rush to escape to pay him any mind. Besides homeless people were so common in the inner city, after a while they just blended in with the rest of the debris. She leaned over Bobbie to look out the window, but could only make out a few lights in the distance on an otherwise black night. Probably a farmhouse, she thought.
It didn’t make sense to leave the warmth and security of the bus in the middle of nowhere. Did it? But even as she debated with herself, she knew which side would win. It was the side that had won almost every time in the past twelve years. Err on the side of caution. It had become her motto and her mantra and had served her well. She took one final gaze at her son’s angelic face before gently shaking him.
“Sweetheart, wake up. We need to leave. Wake up, honey.”
Slowly Bobbie stirred and finally opened his eyes but without a lot of recognition that he knew where he was.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we need to leave…now.” As she spoke, she rose from her seat beside him. “You stay here and get your bearings. I’ll get our luggage from under the bus.”
Rubbing his eyes, Bobbie gave an almost imperceptible nod as Angie made her way through the aisle.
“Ma’am, it’s really not a good idea to leave the bus,” the driver replied when Angie asked for their luggage. “We’re pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I mean, Lincolnton is back there a few miles but at this time of the night, it’s shut up tight as a tick on a hound dog.”
“That’s okay, just so happens we have relatives just up the road,” Angie lied pointing in the general direction where she’d seen the lights. “We’ll be fine. Now, please, may I have our luggage,” she said firmly.
“Sure, I guess,” the driver replied. “It’s your life.”
“I have two backpacks and a duffel bag,” Angie said with a smile.
As he opened the undercarriage of the bus to retrieve the luggage, she pulled out her phone to locate where they were and the best direction to take to move them toward Penland. The more direct route that the bus was taking went through Hickory, but as she studied the map, she noticed there were smaller roads that would bypass Hickory and take them directly to Morganton. Though that route would have less traffic on it making it more difficult to hitch a ride, it still seemed to be the best route to take. Satisfied by her decision now that she had a plan and a direction, she stepped back into the bus and motioned for Bobbie to join her.
Gazing into her son’s still sleepy eyes, she knew her immediate plan was to find a safe place for them to rest and maybe if they were lucky, find some food. She handed Bobbie his pack and shouldered her own. Picking up the duffel bag, she pointed in the direction of the lights. “That’s where we’re headed, Bobbie.”
She’d lived long enough in North Carolina to know that at one time most homesteads out in the country had at least one barn, though many of them had disappeared over the years, falling down from lack of attention. She prayed the farm up ahead would still have some outbuilding where they could rest. Food would have to come later.
Angie didn’t consider herself a particularly religious person or an ardent follower of Christ, but it was hard to live in the Charismatic Christian Community without some of their ideas seeping in. So when she reached the farm and found, not only a couple of whitewashed outbuildings but also that they were in good shape, she gave thanks for the shelter. She gave thanks again upon discovering a flock of laying hens in one of the buildings. She didn’t have any way to cook the eggs, but despite the stories she’d heard about the danger of eating them raw, she figured it would be okay. After all, they were the freshest eggs she’d probably ever eat.
She opened her backpack and took out the canteen of water and one of the nutrition shakes she kept with her as part of her escape plan package. She poured the powder into the canteen and cracked a couple of the fresh eggs in it as well. The extra protein would help satisfy their hunger pains and provide them with a good source of energy for the long trip ahead.
Bobbie had retreated into what Angie called his “blue funk” when he was mostly unresponsive like he was off in his own little world. She placed the canteen into his hands before raising it to his lips and started pouring the thick concoction down his throat. He swallowed as though it was only a reflex. Still, the rest of his body would take over and digest the nutrients. He seemed to be spending more and more time in his blue funk mood. Come to think of it, that was one of the signs the doctors said could come from autism. But Angie hadn’t bought into that diagnosis, and she wasn’t going to start now. So much water had passed under the bridge since that time at Duke. So much.
Stay tuned next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
The post Babble Installments #8 appeared first on W. Bradford Swift Visionary Author.
October 2, 2021
Babble Installments #7
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble
One young boy is the key to the universe.Installment # 7 (If you’ve missed an installment, go HERE.)
Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.
But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.
(And if you’re enjoying the story, please share it with your friends.)
Chapter 4
Angie leaned back in her seat and glanced over at Bobbie, so tired that he had fallen asleep within minutes of reaching the relative safety of the bus. Angie felt her own numbing exhaustion contrasting with the adrenaline rush of the last hour. It’s not time for me to sleep, she thought. Not yet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept a full eight hours all at one time. Catnaps and short bouts of sleep had become her way of life and vigilance her watchword.
She pulled the cell phone out of her pocket and opened it to the photo gallery. She flipped through several photos before coming to rest on the one she’d first shown to Pendra of the two men she feared the most, especially the younger one, her husband, and Bobbie’s father. She had downloaded the picture of Brian standing next to Pastor John from the internet. Since seeing her husband over fourteen years ago, Brian had managed to maintain a youthful appearance, perhaps because he continued to wear his hair in a buzz cut. Enlarging the photo she could just make out a few age lines around his blue, cold as ice, eyes.
Angie knew Brian possessed a softer side, one he kept hidden from most people for fear it showed weakness. She suspected Pastor John, the older man dressed all in black who stood erect as a statue with his arm around Brian’s shoulders in the photo, was one of the few people who knew the softer side of her estranged husband. One of the few things we share, Angie thought, is our mutual love for this angry young man. I wonder what would have happened if I’d not gone behind Brian’s back? She’d asked that question a hundred times. What ifs could make you crazy.
“It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen my son, and during that time you’ve made him suffer through dozens of tests. Enough is enough,” Brian yelled through the phone. “Bring my son home where he belongs.”
Angie held the phone away from her ear so as not to be deafened by her husband’s angry words. She half expected her mother could hear his tirade from the other room. She waited for a second to be sure he was finished before replying.
“You know where Bobbie is if you want to see him. I’m not trying to keep him from you, Brian. However, I will not take him back there just so your Charismatic Christians can treat him like some sideshow to grow Pastor John’s congregation and fame. Now, I’ve got to go. Mother is holding dinner.” She paused a moment before adding, “I love you.” She hung up the phone without waiting to hear if her husband had anything else to add.
“Tough call?” Gloria asked without looking up from washing the dishes as Angie walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Angie replied going to the refrigerator and pulling out the half-empty bottle of wine, and refilling her glass. “He doesn’t understand that I’m just trying to do what’s right to take care of my son…our son.” She corrected herself. “You want a glass?”
“Sure,” Gloria replied as she dried her hands on her apron. She was one of the few people Angie knew who still insisted on wearing an apron whenever she was in the kitchen. “Let’s have something to eat before it burns to a crisp.”
The three of them sat down to dinner at the same kitchen table where Angie had eaten hundreds of meals growing up. She placed Bobbie in the old wooden high chair; the third generation to be raised in it.
“He’s right about one thing,” Angie said after she’d said the blessing and reached for the meatloaf that resembled a burnt log covered in tomato sauce.
“What’s that sweetheart?”
“Bobbie’s been through enough testing by the doctors. I know they mean well, but it’s beginning to feel like he’s just another interesting case study…hardly more than a guinea pig to them. And they still don’t really know what this foreign language is or where it’s coming from. I’m putting a stop to it. I’ll call Dr. Carter tomorrow and let him know.”
Gloria nodded but didn’t say anything. She took a sip from her wine before asking, “Then what?”
“Hmm?”
“Well, if you stop the testing yet don’t plan on going back home, what will you do? I mean, you can stay here as long as you like, but…”
“I know, Mom. It wouldn’t be long before we’d be at each other’s throats. We’re just too much alike to live together for very long. But if you could put up with me for a few more days, I’d appreciate it, just until I figure out what to do.”
“Sure, honey. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.” She reached over and patted her daughter’s hand. “We’ll manage, I’m sure.”
The old man watched the bus lights disappear down the road. He pushed the fedora up and reached his hand under the grubby bandage as though trying to scratch his ear. Instead, he pushed the button of the concealed Bluetooth and a moment later heard the connection being made.
As he talked his eyes flitted around. He’d already drawn more attention than was comfortable, even though he doubted anyone else was around that cared a flip what he was doing at this point.
“They took the bus headed toward Hickory,” he whispered a little louder than he’d like but knew he had to adjust for the bandage that covered the Bluetooth earpiece. “One other thing, boss. She might have made me. Not sure.”
He listened for a moment before reaching back to scratch his ear once more. It was a hell of a way to make a living, especially since Homeland paid so poorly, but work was work, and beggars couldn’t be choosers, not in a world where just about everyone was a beggar.
Anyway, he’d finished his part of the job, at least for the night. Arnez would take it from here, probably by calling someone in Hickory to pick up the trail when the bus arrived. As he shuffled down the street, his shoulders began to straighten and the shuffle turned into more of a power walk. Turning the corner he pulled out his cell phone and made his own call as he ripped off the head bandage. “Yo, babes, it’s me…you still up? Want some company?”
Stay tuned next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
The post Babble Installments #7 appeared first on W. Bradford Swift Visionary Author.
September 24, 2021
Babble Installments #6
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble
One young boy is the key to the universe.Installment # 6 (If you’ve missed an installment, go HERE.)
Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.
But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.
(And if you’re enjoying the story, please share it with your friends.)
At the bus station, Angie’s luck held. The young man behind the counter eyed the ring greedily, then tried to act like he was doing her a favor. Hell, the ring was worth three times the price of the tickets, probably more, but Angie held her tongue and made the trade for two tickets on the first bus traveling in a westerly direction from Charlotte. They’d have to change buses in Hickory but at least they’d be further away from Mystery Man. The bus ride would give Bobbie a chance to nap for a few hours. It would also give her a chance to think about their next action and whether Penland was their best choice.
During their long game of hide-n-seek, Angie had noticed bus stations had grown in number and size as fewer families could afford their own cars, and those that did kept them for years longer until they finally couldn’t be repaired and were left abandoned on the streets. These auto skeletons had become a rich source for Bobbie’s artwork. Despite the growing popularity of bus travel, the stations continued to be located in the most run-down parts of metropolitan areas.
Angie carried her luggage to a dark corner of the terminal, where she could keep a close eye on people coming and going. All she saw were folks like herself, barely holding on to life, clawing to make the most of it. Of course, you’d never see Grubbers around a bus station, especially one as run down as this one. They’d gotten their name from the term, money-grubbing bastards that had been so popular after the financial collapse of ’08 and again in ’16 which had led to the establishment of a universal currency and the global electronic financial system that made physical money not only worthless but illegal.
No, the wealthiest half-percent preferred staying sequestered on their floating estates known as Luxury LilyPods and flying to each others’ lavish parties in their private heliospheres. Originally designed to provide housing for the millions of people displaced by rising ocean levels, the LilyPod patents were all under one name—Matthew Morritee. Morritee had become the richest man in the world by selling these multimillion-dollar floating fortresses to the uber-rich Grubbers. It was rumored that Morritee rarely if ever left his own LilyPod estate that floated between Bermuda and the Bahamas most of the time. He frequently hosted decadent parties that always made headlines in the social pages of the Internet, but never attended them in person, preferring to observe his social network from afar.
Angie felt her shoulders grow heavy from the late night and depressing thoughts. She glanced over to Bobbie where he sat quietly next to her, trying valiantly to keep his eyes open, his backpack resting against one leg. She reached over and gently ran her fingers through his hair, using its disheveled appearance as an excuse to touch him.
“You’re my brave young man, aren’t you?” she said knowing better than to expect a response. Her words were as much to bolster her spirits as they were for him. “The bus will be leaving in just a few minutes. We’ll wait until the last call before we board. Then you can take a nap.”
She brushed his hair to the side one last time, as she gazed around to be sure no one else was paying them any attention. Her gaze paused a moment upon the face of an old man which was partially hidden by the dirty fedora pulled down over his eyes, and an even dirtier bandage covering his right ear. She could imagine from his appearance that he’d recently gotten in a fight and his opponent had tried to chew his ear off.
Something about him looked familiar, but then again, dirty, disheveled bums were everywhere nowadays. Had she seen him sitting in the alleyway? She glanced down to his shoes, an old pair of Reeboks that he’d probably pulled from some Dumpster. She continued her gaze around the waiting room as a disturbing feeling continued to grow in the pit of her stomach. When she returned her attention back to where he’d been sitting, the man was gone. Had he felt her stare upon him? Did he suspect he’d been made? She was about to scan the room again when she heard the last call for Hickory.
“That’s our cue, Bobbie. Let’s go.” As they strolled through the terminal, everyone they passed looked suspicious to Angie, but no one made any move toward them. They arrived at the bus, gave their tickets to the driver, stored the luggage underneath, and boarded. Within minutes they were on the road, and finally, Angie could take a breath. She glanced over to the seat next to her where Bobbie was already asleep.
She sat back and tried to relax. They’d come so far since those early days. She wiped the droplets of perspiration from her forehead realizing she’d sweated buckets over these many years of being vagabonds.
The muted pastel colors of the waiting room and the soft background music were supposed to put a patient’s mind at ease. Even so, Angie could feel a trickle of perspiration running down the inside of her arms.
I’m sweating like a pig, she thought, then smiled. Mom would have a fit if she heard me say such a thing. Gloria Roberson would much prefer thinking her daughter knew all the physiological reasons people perspired when nervous, but unfortunately, Angie had resisted the urging of her parents to pursue a medical career.
That was not to say her perspective on life wasn’t affected by her parents’ careers. Between the two of them, Gloria and Edgar Roberson had more than sixty years of experience in medicine. Being raised by a prominent physician and nurse had had its effect. Otherwise, she’d not be in Dr. Carter’s office sweating so profusely for fear of what she was about to learn about her son. The last three days of waiting for Bobbie’s MRI and other test results had been excruciating. Fortunately, her mother still carried a bit of weight in the local medical community. Otherwise, the wait would likely have been much longer.
Dr. Carter walked in studying the papers in his hand, his crisp white lab coat looking like it had just been ironed. The thick lenses of his glasses enlarged his eyes giving him an owl-like appearance. As he sat down behind his desk, he looked up and smiled at Angie. Angie wondered if the graying at his temples was due to age or was Carter’s attempt to look wiser and more trusting. In either case, it worked.
“Good to see you again, Ms. Cagle. Where’s Bobbie?”
“I thought it better to leave him home with his grandmother,” Angie replied, then added nervously, “Oh, was I supposed to bring him in today? I could…”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Dr. Carter replied. “Just a curiosity question, more to break the ice than anything.”
“Oh, okay. Just so you know Doctor, I’m more of a pull-the-bandage-off-all-at-once girl.”
“I see. Well, in that case, let’s get down to it.”
Angie took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Please, God, don’t let it be too bad, she prayed silently to herself.
“It appears from our testing that Bobbie is autistic.”
Well, that was sure pulling the bandage off quickly, Angie thought. “And what does that mean exactly?”
“Autism is a developmental disorder that affects the brain’s normal development of social and communication skills,” said Dr. Carter. “Generally, it appears in the first three years of life, though recent studies have suggested the changes in the brain happen much earlier. Of course, there is a wide range of different symptoms and degrees of the condition.”
The news shocked Angie into silence. Developmental disorder…affects the brain’s normal development. What am I going to do now? How am I ever going to break the news to Brian? Going behind his back like this suddenly felt like a very bad idea. Well, she’d just have to cross that bridge later. Right now, she needed to know what she could do to help her son.
“So, the strange spells and the ‘speaking in tongues’ are actually just effects from the autism?”
“Well, that brings us to the second matter,” Dr. Carter said as he flipped over a few pages. “While Bobbie was here, I had Dr. Elizabeth Mechner examine him as well. She’s a linguist specializing in such matters including glossolalia…that’s the medical term for ‘speaking in tongues.’”
Angie nodded.
“According to Dr. Mechner, Bobbie isn’t speaking in tongues.”
“So, he’s just babbling away because of the autism?” Angie asked, growing more frightened by the minute.
“No, I wouldn’t say that. You see…well, let me read to you what Dr. Mechner wrote here in Bobbie’s record: ‘Glossolalic speech resembles human language in some respects. The speaker uses accent, rhythm, intonation, and pauses to break up the speech into distinct units. Each unit is itself made up of syllables, the syllables being formed from consonants and vowels taken from a language known to the speaker…but it’s not an actual language.’”
Dr. Carter looked up from the records. “In other words, speaking in tongues is really more babbling than anything else. It’s not really a language, but an imitation of a language.”
“So? What does that have to do with Bobbie?”
“Well, according to Dr. Mechner and two other specialists, what Bobbie is saying is a language, not an imitation. It’s simply a language no one understands.”
I’m not sure how long it’s been since I first discovered the door. Time has always been pretty slippery to me. I suspect even more slippery for me than for most normal kids. Along the path, time is even harder to hold onto than it is in my life with Mom. It just seems like it’s always been there available to me when I need to get away. However long it’s been, I always find myself looking forward to returning to my friends. As I prop my head against my mom’s soft shoulder and drift off, I wonder if Rabbit will be back from his latest escapades. He always has fun and interesting tales to share even though Hatter sometimes questions whether they’re true or not, especially stories that include his mysterious friend, Alice. In all my visits, I’ve never met Alice. Even though everyone talks about her as though she’s real and a frequent visitor to this strange land, I’m convinced they’re just pulling my leg.
I stroll along the now-familiar trail that leads to the door. It’s not long before I see its vague outline appearing through the fog through which the path winds. The fog makes the door look like it’s floating in space, but I know it’s only at the top of a small knoll and that the path will guide me to it. I lose sight of it a couple of times as I pass through first a cotton-candy-colored cloud and shortly thereafter a light brown cloud that has the scent and taste of milk chocolate. But then the mist clears and I’m standing in front of the door with the clear gothic lettering: Wonderland.
Once again I recall the door of the original Wonderland story that Mom used to read to me. Alice found herself at first too large to enter it before drinking some potion that shrank her down. I’m glad my entranceway to Wonderland is not so complicated. I smile as I reach down to turn the doorknob.
“Gentle with the schnoz. It’s sore from the cold I’m still recovering from,” the door says in a nasal voice followed by a long sniffle.
“Ahh, you said that last time I was here,” I reply as I continue to turn the knob. “How long are you going to play that sick card?”
“As long as it gets you to be a little gentler, young Master Bobbie,” the door replies with a chuckle. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sure Chessie and Hatter will be thrilled you’ve returned as well.”
As the door opens, the golden light of Wonderland pours forth along with a cloud of exotic fragrances coming from the gigantic multicolored flowers lining the path into Wonderland. As I step through the door I’m overwhelmed by the colors: brilliant pinks, indigo, periwinkle, and other colors for which I have no names. At the same time, a familiar warm feeling comes over me. Ahhh, I think, it’s good to be home.
Stay tuned next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
The post Babble Installments #6 appeared first on W. Bradford Swift Visionary Author.
September 17, 2021
Babble Installments #5
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble
One young boy is the key to the universe.Installment # 5 (If you’ve missed an installment, go HERE.)
Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.
But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.
(And if you’re enjoying the story, please share it with your friends.)
Chapter 3
As they neared the ground floor, Angie kept a sharp eye on the alleyway but evidently whoever wanted to talk to them hadn’t bothered to place a lookout at the rear of the building. She spied a drunken bum leaning against the building down the street, nursing a bottle of cheap wine. Few buildings had fire escapes anymore, so their pursuers might not have thought there would be a back escape route.
That oversight might have helped them this time around but Angie knew she couldn’t count on such luck in the future. Somehow they needed to make their way to Penland. She paused for a moment on the last few steps to glance at the paper Pendra had given her. It was difficult reading in the dull light of the one remaining street lamp, so she took out her cell phone and used its light to read by. She calculated Penland was at least a couple hours away, but how to get there safely without being caught. She knew the bus station was just a few blocks away, but would there be someone there waiting for them? And how would she pay for the tickets? While she calculated she had enough money in her account, that would leave an electronic trail. The same was true if she rented a car. She could try hitching a ride but that had its own dangers she’d just as soon avoid. She reached for the necklace and felt the ring at its end; her engagement ring. There’d been many times she’d considered trading it for food or a place to stay, but had always found a way around the issue, but not this time. The danger behind them was too great to let sentimentality get in the way. She’d just have to convince whoever was manning the ticket booth to take the ring in trade for two tickets. She’d also keep a close eye out for anyone who looked suspicious and anyone wearing shiny dress shoes.
It didn’t sound like Brian or Pastor John had tracked them down. She breathed a small sigh of relief at the thought, as she helped Bobbie down from the last few steps. She could tell from the dropped shoulders and shuffling feet how tired her son was. The bus station was only a couple blocks away, much closer than the nearest entrance to the interstate. They’d have to give it a try.
She wondered if the mystery man could have been hired by her husband to find them. He’d tried that before, with poor results. But since he’d started receiving help from Pastor John, Brian had more resources to call upon. Maybe they’d hired another private eye with a better track record for hunting down estranged spouses. Then she remembered Pendra’s comment about the black sedan having a government tag.
While she knew Brian and Pastor John would do just about anything, including kidnapping, to get Bobbie to rejoin their charismatic community, they hardly had the clout to involve the Feds. Right? Even though it had been over thirteen years, it still felt odd to be so estranged from her husband. They’d been in such love in those early days. How had it all gone so wrong?
Angie stared across the kitchen table where Brian sat stirring his cup of decaf that she’d set in front of him a few minutes before. She’d made a point of putting Bobbie to bed early so she could talk with her husband without any interruptions. So far, the conversation had not gone well. She decided to try again.
“It’s not normal, Brian. You know it’s not. I don’t just mean these strange spells he’s having that you and everyone else think are a gift from God. If they’re such a gift, how come Bobbie hasn’t said one word except when he’s speaking in tongues? It’s not right, and you know it.”
“Now, just calm down. You know babies develop at different rates. Who’s to say what’s normal and what isn’t? When Bobbie has something to say, he’ll say it. In the meantime, can’t you be grateful for the miracle that he is?”
Angie stood and started pacing between the table and the kitchen sink. She reached over and tried to shut off the dripping faucet, but even as she did so, she knew it was futile. It’d been dripping every day since they’d moved in more than four years ago. Futile…just like the conversation she was trying to have with her husband. Still, she needed to try. Her son’s health and happiness were at stake.
“Well, I’m not so sure it’s a blessing or a miracle,” she replied turning back to Brian. “How do we know that he’s really speaking in tongues? What if it’s something else? What if it’s the only way he can talk because something’s wrong with his mental processing. It could be something they could correct if it was diagnosed early enough, but here we go, ignoring the signs.”
“What are you suggesting?” Brian asked. She could hear the edge of anger beginning to build in his voice. Tread lightly, she thought, but when it came to her son, she knew it was unlikely she’d take her own advice.
“I spoke to my mother today.” She heard Brian’s groan but chose to ignore it. “She knows of an excellent specialist at Duke Medical Center who she used to work with during her nursing days. She’s sure he’d be happy to examine Bobbie. He probably wouldn’t even charge us.”
Brian pushed himself away from the table but remained sitting. “What in the hell are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with Bobbie, and we sure don’t need to drag him all the way to Durham to have him poked and prodded by some overeducated doctor.”
Angie took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. They’d had similar disagreements in the past. It was a major difference that had forced a wedge between them more than once. Angie had been raised in a medical family. Her father had been a physician for over forty years, her mom a nurse for twenty-five. Her family wasn’t opposed to religion. It just wasn’t the central theme of their lives as it was for Brian and his family; three generations of Charismatic Christians.
“Angela, stop and think about this.” Whenever Brian started using her full name, she knew his mind had been made up, and he was now sinking his heels in deeper. “What would Pastor John and the rest of the community think if we hauled Bobbie off to Duke? Why, they’d question our faith, and I won’t have that.”
Angie opened her mouth to retaliate, then thought better of it. What’s the use? Clearly, he’s made up his mind and won’t be convinced otherwise, she thought. And that was okay because she’d not only already made up her mind, she’d also made an appointment to have Bobbie examined next week while Brian was away on one of his spiritual retreats. That would give the specialist time to study the tape she’d mailed of Bobbie’s latest babbling spell as well. She called her mother back after Brian left to run errands and asked her to get the spare bedroom ready. She could hear the relief in her mother’s voice. Angie hated going behind her husband’s back, but when it came to her son…well, sometimes it was easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission. This was one of those times. Unfortunately, despite his deep religious beliefs, Brian had never learned how to forgive.
Stay tuned for part #2 next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
The post Babble Installments #5 appeared first on W. Bradford Swift Visionary Author.
September 14, 2021
Why I Write Under Two Names (Despite the Headaches it Causes)
My daughter’s eleventh birthday was right around the corner and I needed to come up with a present. Being someone who grew up loving to read and having
instilled the same habit in Amber, I decided to give her a book. Really a no-brainer, right? I even knew that she enjoyed books by Judy Blume so I picked up one at the local bookstore.
It was a winner! Amber loved it so much that she then passed it on to her mother to read. That’s when the you-know-what hit the fan, and I ended up spending a protracted length of time in the dog house.
“What are you doing giving my daughter (I noticed immediately that Amber was no longer our daughter) such a book?”
“What do you mean?” I replied as I started to retreat to a corner of the room just in case I needed to defend myself from a full-frontal attack. “She’s one of Amber’s favorite authors. What’s wrong with it?”
“Only that it’s filled with sexual scenes that include oral sex and masturbation,” Ann replied. “Now I’ve got to explain all that to her. I was hoping we could wait just a little longer.”
Turns out that Judy Blume writes fiction for kids, young adults, and adults all under Judy Blume. That’s when I decided I had to do whatever I could to keep other fathers out of the same kind of trouble. So, my fiction appropriate for kids and young adults is written under the name of W. Bradford Swift, and my adult fiction, a few of which have adult themes (like FreeForm: New Birth), are written as Orrin Jason Bradford. (Also, check out this 1.)
And yes, writing under two names has presented a whole host of headaches. Looking back now, I’m not sure it was the best solution. At the same time, being a Gemini, I do tend to have a bit of a split personality, and for sure I don’t want to get any other innocent father into the trouble I faced.
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September 10, 2021
Babble Installment #4
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble
One young boy is the key to the universe.Installment #4
Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.
But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.
Angie watched as Pendra started her climb upward before turning her attention on her own escape route. She handed Bobbie the pack that was mostly filled with the various knick knacks he’d collected over the last few weeks that hadn’t gone into his latest tower, cushioned by a few of his clothes. She hoisted the other pack on her shoulder before picking up the duffel bag. Before starting down, she gazed over the edge to see if she could detect if anyone was waiting below for them. As far as she could tell, the alleyway was vacant. With a deep breath and a glance back to the small room that had been their home, she pointed toward the rickety steps.
“Careful, sweetheart, there’s no telling the last time these steps were used.” Bobbie appeared to ignore her words at first as he continued to eat the last few bites of the sandwich, a few crumbs and a smear of jelly clinging to his lips. After a slight pause, he started down the steps closely behind his mom. They made their way down the three flights of metal steps, Angie glancing back frequently to be sure Bobbie was following and praying that no one else appeared. How many times over the past decade-plus had they been forced to move? She’d lost count.
“Everyone come to the dining room. We’re about to bring Bobbie’s cake to him,” Angie shouted above the crowd noise as she placed the second candle onto the chocolate fudge cake.
Elder Jacobs leaned over to Pastor John and chuckled, “Hard to believe Babbling Bobbie has been with us two years already.”
“What did you just call him?” Pastor John asked with a scowl of disapproval. He was a large man, made to look even larger and more menacing by the black shirt buttoned to the top despite the heat and matching pants that were his hallmark. “I sure wouldn’t let Angie or Brian hear you refer to their blessed son in that way.”
“Sorry, Pastor, of course not,” Jacobs stammered, his face reddening from embarrassment. “Let’s go get a slice of that cake. Angie makes the best desserts in the whole community.” He quickly walked off to get away from Pastor John’s wrath.
Everyone filed into the spacious dining room. Despite its large size, there wasn’t enough room to accommodate everyone in attendance. The overflow crowded around the entranceway in an effort to get a glance of the cake and the young boy who’d made such an impression on their community since his arrival.
Rumors of Bobbie’s gift had spread beyond their community as well. In fact, in the last year the size of Pastor John’s congregation had grown by over fifty percent which was one reason the aging pastor felt protective of this young miracle.
“Here it comes,” someone shouted. The kitchen door separated to let Angie through with the over-sized cake with two large candles burning on top.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…” everyone began to sing. Bobbie’s eyes grew larger. The brown of his irises perfectly matched the dark chocolate icing. He waved his arm in time to the beat of the song.
“He’s such a dear…look at him…what a smile…” everyone cooed. But as the song ended and Angie placed the cake in front of her son, something changed, first on Bobbie’s face and then radiating out to the crowd like the vibratory wave moving out from the epicenter of an earthquake.
As Bobbie stared at the flames of the two candles, his facial expression changed from the innocent glee of a young boy to the thoughtful demeanor of an intelligence far beyond his years. Bobbie closed his eyes for a moment as his breath became slow and shallow. When he opened his eyes, Bobbie was gone and something else had taken his place. Then erupted the voice from the small boy that the members of the Charismatic Christian Church had grown to know and respect; though with some trepidation. It was the voice that had attracted attention from dozens of other charismatic churches in the southeast.
It was hard to imagine how such a deeply bass voice could come from such a small boy, or that his vocal cords could even produce such a range of sounds, but that was just part of the miracle that consistently silenced the crowd. Angie and Brian instinctively made their way to their son, standing behind his chair. They each reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder—an angelic look of peace on Brian’s face; a look of troubled worry on Angie’s.
As Bobbie spoke in tongues, his eyelids opened to reveal a stark whiteness.
“He’s with God, for sure,” Elder Jacobs whispered leaning over to the person standing next to him. When he realized he was once more talking to Pastor John, he cleared his throat and shuffled off, placing a couple of other congregants between him and the pastor.
The unintelligible babbling continued to pour from Bobbie for close to three minutes. Finally, he stopped talking and his eyes rolled back to their normal position. Without glancing around, he climbed out of the dining room chair that had served as his throne for the last several minutes and waddled into the living room where he went immediately to the pile of new toys he’d received for his birthday.
One of his most popular presents this year was building blocks, having received three different sets from three families with young children. Sitting down on the plushly carpeted floor, Bobbie pulled the blocks closer to him and began to build.
After a few minutes, the crowd that had gathered around him began to mumble.
“Amazing…what is it?”
“Is that what I think it is?”
“It’s a tower.”
How is he able to do that at his age?”
“How’s he able to do it at any age?”
“My God…it’s…it’s…”
Pastor John stepped forward. “It’s a tower…a tower of Babel. Let us pray.”
Obediently, everyone bowed their heads. “Our Father, who art in heaven…”
Pastor John’s clear deep voice rang out over the gathering of his congregants. By the time the Lord’s Prayer was finished, Bobbie’s tower had grown taller than he was, making it necessary for him to stand on the hassock of his mother’s chair to continue the building process.
In less than twenty minutes the structure had grown to almost five feet. Bobbie had reached out beyond his pile of toys and brought in a number of other objects to complete his work of art, including Scotch tape from the den, two sets of pickup sticks, several books from Brian’s library and an assortment of kitchen utensils.
Bobbie reached out to his dad with a final object in his hand.
“Pick him up, Brian,” Pastor John whispered. “He needs your help to complete the tower.”
Brian did as instructed. As he held his son out toward the tower, Bobbie reached over and placed the yellow star that came from one of his toy puzzles on the pinnacle. As he did so, he shuddered vigorously and shook his head. By the time his dad had set him down on the floor, Baby Bobbie had returned.
Stay tuned for part #4 next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
The post Babble Installment #4 appeared first on W. Bradford Swift Visionary Author.
September 3, 2021
Babble Installment #3
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble
One young boy is the key to the universe.Installment #3
Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.
But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.
Chapter 2
Angie plopped herself down on the now-empty footlocker and stared at the full duffel bag and backpacks. Once again, she’d had to sift through their personal belongings and decide what to take with them and what to leave behind for the next person who would call this ramshackle room home.
She’d done it enough times that she now had it down to an informal system; one that she could complete in less than an hour if need be. Though this time, given how engrossed Bobbie was with his artwork, she’d taken a more leisurely approach to the task.
She turned her attention from the mound of luggage to Bobbie. It had been close to three hours since Pendra had dropped by with news about the stranger, but in the past hour, Bobbie had spent less time actually adding to the tower-like sculpture and more time studying it as he ran his fingers through his thick head of hair. She had to admit that she loved his hair long though she also wondered if it wasn’t one small way she could keep her son from looking like his father. Brian kept his own dark hair cropped in a buzz cut; at least he had when they were together. Anyway, Bobbie diverting his attention away from the tower was a good indication his latest project was drawing to a close.
Through the years Bobbie’s towers had varied in size, from the earliest ones he’d built with building blocks and Legos that had reached more than five feet, to the smallest one just under twelve inches. In the past few years, he’d evolved to using mostly scraps of electronics and other miscellaneous trash he was constantly collecting. But no matter what the height, weight or breadth, each piece was a one-of-a-kind work of art, with such intricate design and balance as to be almost inconceivable that it could have been built by a boy still short of his sixteenth birthday.
The knock on the door shook Angie from her daydreaming as her heart skipped several beats. Was it the stranger? Were they too late to make their escape? Then she heard the last part of the knock, the code that she and Pendra had agreed to. Angie took a deep sigh of relief. She strolled over to the door and opened it.
“Good, you’re still here,” Pendra said as she rushed through the doorway. “I’m not too late.”
“Too late for what?” Angie asked as she took a quick glance down the hallway to make sure Pendra hadn’t been followed.
“Not too late to let you know you can’t go out the front way,” Pendra replied as she fought to catch her breath. “There’s been a black SUV out front since early this evening. The glass is too dark for me to tell if the person in the driver’s seat is our mystery man or not, but I suspect it is. If so, I know where he’s from.”
“Where?” Angie asked as she closed the door.
“Big Brother, the government, my guess from Homeland.”
“How do you know that?”
“The SUV has a government tag. They don’t even try to be subtle anymore. It’s my theory that they want us to know that we’re constantly being watched. He wears old clothes to try to fit in but then wears his dress shoes. Not very subtle, I’d say.”
“No, I guess not. Still, I can’t figure out what Homeland Security would want with Bobbie or me. It didn’t make sense the first time, and it makes even less sense now. ”
“You’d have to ask Mystery Man, but personally I wouldn’t recommend sticking around for that. He’s more likely to want to ask the questions than to answer them.”
Angie nodded.
“How’s he doing?” Pendra asked looking in Bobbie’s direction.
“I think he’s coming out of his spurt, but he’s going to be dog tired and hungry. Not the best shape to travel.” She shrugged. “But you’re right, we need to get out of here as soon as possible.”Angie hesitated for a moment before asking, “Could you do us a big favor?”
“Sure,” Pendra replied without hesitation. “You know how honored we’ve all been to have Bobbie and you stay here. We just wished it could be for longer. What can I do?”
Angie pointed to her son’s tower. “Can you see that his artwork gets to this address?” She handed Pendra a scrap of paper. “It’s the address of his ‘agent.’ She’s been very discreet about helping us to preserve his work. Of course, I’ve had to sell a few pieces from time to time to help keep us afloat, but she knows what will sell for the best price and which ones to hold onto because they’ll only grow in value later.”
“Sure, I’m happy to do that. I always wondered how you managed for so long on your own.”
It hadn’t been easy, Angie thought. Oh, the artist communities had helped by providing room and board in exchange for some of Bobbie’s smaller pieces, so she rarely needed to tap into her bank account. The global electronic financial system might have been a good idea for businesses and financial institutions, but it had proven to be a real pain for Bobbie and her. Whenever she did have to tap into her account, she made as many purchases as possible of items they needed as well as items she could later use for barter at their new location.
She glanced over to her son with a loving look. “The funny thing is that as soon as Bobbie finishes a piece, he seems to lose all interest in it. I just hope when he grows older he won’t be upset that I haven’t been able to keep them all.”
“Uh-oh, here he comes.” She watched as her son shook violently for several seconds almost like he was going into a seizure, then gazed around his surroundings for a moment before getting to his feet and walking toward the kitchenette.
Angie followed to show him where the peanut butter and jelly sandwich was that she’d prepared for him, but stopped when she heard a harsh rapping at the door. She glanced at Pendra with a look of alarm that matched the one she saw on her friend’s face. Pendra pointed to the window and mouthed, “Out the fire escape,” as she rushed over and gently picked up the piece of sculpture. She reached down and grabbed one of the backpacks and together the two women tossed the luggage out the window and onto the landing of the ancient fire escape that strained with a metallic groan.
Angie rushed back to Bobbie. She handed the sandwich to him, and he immediately started to devour it. Taking one of his hands, she stooped down before him.
“Sweetheart, it’s time to play another game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, trying unsuccessfully to keep the urgency and fear out of her voice. “I know you’re hungry and tired, and I’m sorry, but we really do need to play just a little while. Okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, she stood up and gently guided him toward the window. In the meantime, Pendra, who had already climbed out the window, helped first Bobbie and then Angie through just as they heard louder pounding on the door.
“I’ll go up a few flights and give them the slip. Don’t worry.” She held up Bobbie’s artwork. “I won’t let them get this. You take care of yourself.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a yellow piece of paper folded several times and placed it in Angie’s hand. “This is the name, address and directions to my uncle’s place in Penland. It’s an artist community much like this one, just larger, but so far off the beaten track almost no one knows it exists. It’s a few hours from here in the mountains, but if you can make your way there, you’ll be safe…at least for a while.”
The two women quickly hugged before heading off in opposite directions.
Stay tuned for part #2 next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
The post Babble Installment #3 appeared first on W. Bradford Swift Visionary Author.
August 27, 2021
Babble Installment #2
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble
One young boy is the key to the universe.Installment #2
Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.
But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.
She still remembered how excited Brian and she had been over the arrival of their baby boy. They both couldn’t stop smiling for days after the delivery. In fact, the whole Charismatic Christian Church community was ecstatic by the arrival of the Cagles’ bundle of joy. Everyone who’d seen Bobbie in those first few weeks said he looked just like his mother, even though he had dark brown, oval eyes while Angie’s were blue and almond-shaped, and his head full of black curls contrasted with her light brown waves. Angie was proud of her high cheekbones while Bobbie’s cheeks looked more like a squirrel preparing for winter. Okay, they both had cute upturned noses, but thankfully Bobbie’s nose was missing the bump that Angie often dreamed of having removed by a plastic surgeon. And then there was Bobbie’s smell, which Angie could simply not get enough of—sweet, intoxicating, and unmistakable even if she couldn’t quite describe it to anyone else. It was like art. She knew it when she saw it, or in this case when she smelled it. Still, Angie smiled politely every time the comparison was made; an automatic response learned years ago when she first met Brian and was invited into his Charismatic Christian community.
Love is rarely logical so there’s really no reason to expect one’s actions to be logical, especially as it pertained to falling in love. Angie and Brian were an unlikely match in many ways, but they’d worked hard to make it work, and she’d convinced herself that their mutual interest in having kids would smooth out the differences. It hadn’t.
Assuring herself that her son was dry and comfortable, she walked over to the chest of drawers to dress for the day. She picked out a pair of her favorite faded blue jeans and a light blue tank top to match. She opened the top drawer and scrounged through the scarves until she found the one Brian had given her during their first six months of dating. Also faded from being washed so many times, it was still one of her favorites. As she tied it in her hair, she mused that it had survived the test of time better than their relationship. Though faded, it still worked to keep the hair out of her eyes. She wasn’t so sure she could say the same about their relationship, though they both kept trying to make it work.
She turned around and perused the line of shoes, and as she often did, selected the worn pair of flip-flops. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere today. Why not be comfortable at least with what she wore. Being comfortable with herself had grown increasingly difficult. It seemed like no matter how hard she tried to make her marriage work there were just too many differences—differences that had been exacerbated with the arrival of Bobbie rather than lessened, especially since the recent claim the minister’s wife had made about her son. Everyone else in the community, including Brian, thought it a miracle from God, but she simply couldn’t buy it. She wasn’t prepared to drink the Charismatic Kool-Aid to that degree; not when it came to her only child.
At first, Angie and Brian had tried to convince themselves that he was just struggling to say “Da-Da,” or “Ma-Ma.” Even though none of his utterings sounded the least bit like baby talk, they weren’t overly concerned. After all, everything else seemed to be developing at a normal or even slightly above the normal rate. He started rolling over on his stomach at six months and responded to his name shortly thereafter. But around nine months his normal baby talk began to have the cadence of complete sentences but none of the words were intelligible to either parent. In fact, no one in the community had ever heard such babble. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, Brian finally confessed to Angie after being confronted by Emily Kilpatrick, the much younger wife of Pastor John Kilpatrick, during one of her frequent visits to their home.
“Why, Brian, this is truly a miracle from God, don’t you know?” Emily said as she gazed at Bobbie in his crib with a look of awe mixed with a tinge of fear. “You know what he’s doing, don’t you? You’ve heard it before. I know you have. You were there on that miraculous night when your great aunt was touched by the hand of God.” She clasped her hands together for emphasis.
“What is she talking about?” Angie asked as she walked into the living room with a tray of mismatched mugs, the coffee threatening to slosh all over the hardwood floor.
Brian smiled nervously at his wife, then back to Emily. “Yes, I was there, but I don’t know that this is the same…”
“…Well, you know it is, sweetie,” Emily interrupted, as was her custom whenever she was excited, which was most of the time. She fairly bounced up and down on the overstuffed couch with each word. “It’s nothing to be afraid of, honey. The Lord has simply chosen your son earlier than usual. I say hallelujah to that.”
“Brian, what is she talking about?” Emily asked again, this time emphatically demanding an answer.
“She’s suggesting that Bobbie might be speaking in tongues,” he replied. He coughed nervously as he picked up his coffee mug and blew upon it to cool the liquid.
“What in the…?” Angie stopped herself with a nervous glance at their pastor’s wife. “I mean, what are you talking about?”
“Well, the technical name for it is Glossolalia,” Brian replied, knowing his wife would want to know such scientific information. “Many Charismatics consider it sacred language.”
“Oh Lord, honey. Listen to you go on with those fifty-cent words. Of course, it’s a sacred language. Your son has been touched by the hand of God and here you go doubting it. I can’t wait to tell Pastor John about this. He’ll be so pleased.” She shook her head and the perfectly formed ringlets that reminded Angie of Scarlet O’Hara in Gone with the Wind twisted around her goose-like neck.
“Ahh, I wish you wouldn’t say anything,” Brian said as he walked over to the crib and picked up his son. “Least not until we know more.”
“Oh sure, I understand,” Emily replied. “But it’s not something to be ashamed of, dear. It’s something to celebrate.” She took a sip of coffee, then placed the mug back on the tray. “Well, I need to run. I have several other families to visit before prayer meeting tonight.” She bounced off the sofa and over to Brian and Angie, giving them both rapid-fire pecks on each cheek.
“Sit and enjoy your coffee and the blessings of your new son. I know the way out.” And with that, she was gone.
After she’d left, Angie and Brian stared at each other. “She’s going to tell, isn’t she?” Angie finally asked.
“Oh yeah, you can count on it. By this time tomorrow, everyone will know. Shoot, I wouldn’t be surprised if the three major news channels weren’t sitting on our doorstep by morning.”
Brian walked over to the crib where Bobbie lay now quietly sleeping. “That would have been a good time to keep your special gift to yourself,” he said as he gently rubbed the young boy’s head.
As Angie strolled into the bathroom, she finished tying the blue scarf around her head, then gazed into the mirror to be sure it was on straight. She studied her face. Had those crow’s-feet at the corner of her eyes grown more pronounced? She started to reach for her makeup kit but thought better of it. Save it for later if she decided to go out shopping. The bottle of foundation was almost empty anyway, so there was no point in using the last of it if no one was going to see her.
“Girl, your looker days are in the past,” she muttered to herself in a soft voice a few of her close friends referred to as angelic. She didn’t feel much like an angel these days, now that she’d made the decision to help her son. She recalled one of her father’s favorite sayings, “Trust in God and tie your camel.”
“Well, I’ll let Brian take care of the trusting-in-God part,” she told the young woman in the mirror. “I’ve never been much for blind faith. Time to get some answers.”
Stay tuned for part #3 next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
The post Babble Installment #2 appeared first on W. Bradford Swift Visionary Author.
August 20, 2021
Babble Installment #1
The adventure & conspiracy starts in Babble, book one of the Cosmic Conspiracy Series. Read the first installment below.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble
One young boy is the key to the universe.Installment #1
Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.
But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.
Part One – Charlotte 2032
Chapter 1
Angela Cagle looked from her friend to her son sitting cross-legged in the corner of the cold, dark room, where he worked feverishly on his newest tower. She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder from the all-too-familiar statement she’d just heard. How many times in the past fourteen years had they suddenly been forced to move, often because of similar news? Funny, she thought, even though we’ve lived in this room for weeks, it still smells like dust and stale air. And now it sounded like they’d need to move again.
After taking a couple of deep breaths, she asked, “Was it a man or woman asking about me?”
“Man,” came the laconic reply from Pendra, who ran the local food exchange where all the artist community members shopped.
Angie pulled out a cell phone from the back pocket of her worn jeans, flicked it on, and went to the photo section. After searching through the files, she showed the photo to her friend.
“Was it of either of these men?” she asked as she held her breath.
Pendra glanced at the image, “Nope.”
Okay, that’s good, Angie thought. She flicked to the next picture. “How about this one?”
“Nope again,” Pendra replied, then asked, “Are you on the lam?”
“You could say that,” Angie replied evasively, flicking through to the next picture. “How about this one?”
Pendra studied this picture a bit more closely before replying. “No, not really. He’s dressed kind of the same, but no, that’s not the guy. In fact, it’s his dress that made me suspicious. All casual and plain until you get down to the shoes. Spit-shined where you could see yourself in them. Oh, and he appeared to be missing part of his right ear. Know anyone like that?”
“No.” Angie shook her head. “Damn.”
“What’s wrong?” Pendra asked, a worried look growing on her face.
“Someone new has joined the hunt,” Angie replied. She took a moment to consider her options even though she already knew there was only one course of action. Her gaze drifted back to her teenage son, who continued to ignore everything around him but the tower. Of course, the room wasn’t much to look at anyway with only one window that framed a dilapidated building across a narrow alley with a similar window staring back at them. The building was in the most run down part of Charlotte, North Carolina. Even though Charlotte was known as the Queen City, like many large metro areas, it showed its age. Like an elderly queen, it had grown ugly with wrinkles and age spots brought on by the last decade-and-a-half of economic decline and stagnation. Angie had been told Charlotte was in better shape than much of the rest of the country; much of the rest of the world, for that matter.
“We’re all going to hell in a hand-basket,” her mom had often said, shaking her head slowly with a deep frown etched on her face. It’s only grown worse, Angie thought, as the wealthy few seemed dead set on bleeding the poor masses dry, forcing people into various kinds of communes like this one just to survive.
The sign had read “completely furnished” which meant it had a small cot in one corner where Bobbie slept, an old Army surplus foot locker that housed their few possessions including a few books Angie used for Bobbie’s homeschooling, such as it was. Despite her son’s lack of responsiveness, Angie had continued to read him textbooks that matched his age level. After all, it had been proven that babies could absorb information from the outside world while still in the womb so Angie reasoned the same might be possible for Bobbie. The remaining furnishings included a small kitchenette where Angie prepared their meals, except when they were invited to eat with some of the other families. Fortunately, such invitations were frequent. Despite her son’s strange ways, everyone had taken to him. She suspected it was an artist-respecting-artist sort of thing.
She gazed at her son as she considered their next move. Though he would soon turn sixteen, with his small, wiry frame, he could easily pass for twelve or thirteen. His jet-black curly hair, worn long because he made such a fuss when it had to be cut, contrasted with a pale complexion that left him prone to sunburn.
“We can’t leave yet,” Angie muttered as much to herself as to Pendra.
“Why not?” Pendra asked. “The dude looked like he means business. I mean, he tried to cover it up, but I’ve been working at the exchange long enough to become a pretty good reader of people. Let’s put it this way. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley. Hell, I wouldn’t want to meet him in a lit one by myself.”
Angie pointed to her son, who continued to stay engrossed in the object before him. “Bobbie’s still in one of his ‘creative spurts.’ He gets very upset if he’s disturbed in any way, scratches and bites until he’s allowed to get back to his work. To say he’s dedicated to his art is a gross understatement.”
Pendra gazed at the boy and the intricately designed sculpture in front of him, this one made from various cast-off pieces of electronics the boy had scrounged from who knew where. “He’s really quite an artistic genius, you know,” Pendra said with a note of affection mixed with amazement in her voice. “We’d hate to lose the two of you from our little artist haven here.”
Pendra paused a moment. Angie noticed her friend glancing down at her long fingernails, each one decorated with intricately etched images. This week it was a study of fruit. The previous week the theme had been “My Favorite Things.” Angie knew Pendra didn’t consider herself an artist but claimed to be more of a groupie. She simply liked hanging out in the artist community. Still, artistic talents tended to come alive if you hung around artists long enough. She had to admit Pendra’s nails were their own work of art.
“But of course, you have to do whatever is necessary to keep him safe. How long has he been at it this time?”
“About ten hours.” Angie walked over to the footlocker, pulled out a couple of backpacks and an old duffel bag, and started placing their clothes into the bag.
“Really? Without sleeping?”
Angie nodded. “Sometimes he stays at it until he collapses from exhaustion, but when he wakes up, he goes right back to it. He could easily be at this for at least another twelve hours or more, though it looks like he might be coming close to completing this one.”
“How can you tell?” Pendra asked.
“I’ve seen all the other towers he’s built over the last fourteen years. While they’re all unique, often built with different materials, and varying somewhat in size, they all have a similar look to them, at least so far.”
“It’s a little like a painter doing a study, like Monet and the lily pads, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Angie replied without looking up from her task. “Who knows, really? He doesn’t like to talk about his art.”
She smiled at her own comment. Truth be known, Bobbie didn’t like to talk about anything. Her son would be sixteen soon but had yet to say his first word—well, at least not any words anyone recognized or could understand. It had been one of the clues that had alerted her that her son was different from other children. Of course, at the time, she had no idea just how different Bobbie was. It had all begun with such a quiet innocence.
Stay tuned for part #2 next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.
Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.
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August 17, 2021
Meet the Members of the Zak Bates Eco-adventure Team
@bradonpurposeKids, Join Zak, Ra-Kit the Magic Cat, and Sampson the Flying Dog on their Eco-adventures##kidsread ##kidsfantasy ##lifelongreader ##kidsactivites ##benfife♬ original sound – user4869067526413
Kids and parents, join the Zak Bates Eco-adventure team & receive your free audiobook and ebook of Dominion Over All, book one of the series, by going to my HOME PAGE. Find a complete list of online bookstores where you can pick up the full series by going HERE, or at my personal online
Porpoise Publishing bookstore.
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