Ray Ellis's Blog, page 14

The Night Rome Burned

It never ceases to amaze me how we can so easily believe a lie. When Nero burned Rome, he blamed the Christians and because it suited the whim of the times and fitted within the mold of the power brokers, everyone just went along with it. Soon, from the ashes of the old rose a brand new Rome. A new city...shinny, bright, and sparkly, but one that flowed red with the blood of the victims fed to the lions in the world famous Roman Coliseum. Does the name Spartacus ring any bells? It was as a result of the oppression of a pleasure seeking and self satiated Rome that led to the famous slave rebellion. As I write this, the city of Baltimore is still under siege. Not from an invading army, but from fear, greed, ignorance, and hatred. Like Rome burning, the citizens are forced to stand by and watch as the actions of a select few tarnish and destroy their home. Some will say the riots are all due to the miss treatment and death of Mr. Freddy Gray, but I would submit that the riots are counter productive. The burning of Baltimore will ultimately prove as unfruitful as Nero's burning Rome. The collective communities of America must decide that a time for change has come. While overseas our brave young men and women are dying fighting the likes of Isis, we are being destroyed by an enemy from within. An enemy that looks and talk just like us...because it is us. By now many of us have seen the video of the angry mother corralling her son from amongst those intent on destroying their city. This mother did not by her actions condone what may have been the mistreatment of Mr. Gray, nor did she give her consent to the idea of business as usual. What she did was effectively step in as a parent and push her son toward true manhood. Ideas like "Responsibility before Rights"..."Family before the Individual"...and above all "God First"...these are the concepts that build a nation, a family, a man. Not by our fighting and tearing down the very towns we call home. But on the other hand, if we cannot correct the path we're on the outcome has already been painted in both history and fiction. Spartacus showed us in the past and books like the Hunger Games reiterate the present need of the human spirit to be both heard and recognized. I fear if we can't get this right then Rome won't be the last great nation to burn. Think about it.

Living or Existing...the Choice is Yours

All around today we seem to be bombarded with the thought or at least the concept of choice. But as I observe, most of us seem to be settling into a strange form of mere existence rather than making the higher choice of life. For all intents and purposes a rock exists, but who wants to be a rock? This is not a new thought, even as far back as the founding of the nation of Israel the Lord put the proposition before His people when He said to them, "I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live:"(Deut.30:20). And who didn't have the famous quote of Joshua hanging framed somewhere in their house: "Choose you this day whom you will serve... ...but as for me and my house, we shall serve the Lord!" Ahhh, inspiring words. Words to live by. But today we have given up choice for a strange need to comply. We cover our true intentions by using words like tolerance, and free thinking; while what we really mean to say is 'if you say what I'm doing is okay then I'll say what you're doing is okay.' It is no longer good enough in society for a person to be "wrong", but now we have demanded that everyone else approves of the formerly wrong standard and call it good. I said in an earlier post, that we as black people in America seem to have given up the goal of God, Family, and Education for the new ideal of Me, Money, and Mine. And with this transition have given up on ourselves as a people and adopted...or rather have complied with a new norm that makes us not a people, but a fractured group. When I hear America song by Ray Charles and hear the words of self sacrifice and the idea of others being valued and thought of as worth living for, I am immediately taken to a place within myself that makes me want somehow and in someway simply make the whole of America just a little bit better. Think about it.

A Cry For Justice

By now we have all heard of if not seen the shooting of Walter Scott by North Charleston Police Officer Slager; and if there are three of us in the conversation, I'm sure there will be at least four opinions. This post is not however set to judge or try the actions by former Officer Slager, nor is it to determine whether Mr. Scott should or should not have run from the police. Rather,I'd like us to stop and ask the questions of right and wrong and the rule of law. As you know I'm not a huge fan in giving personal responsibility of one's self over to another, nor do I support the idea of a big brother in either Washington D.C. or the Middle East dictating how each person should think. But in order for us to have a civilized society and to live in a modicum of peace, we do all have to agree on at least the general idea of what right and wrong are. Regardless of your personal belief system, we must acknowledge the history of our nation and its foundation, though not perfect, served to raise our status to a world power in less than 200 years of existence. All around us we hear the cries for justice...Black Life Matters, Native Life Matters, and all the other groups like them. These voices can be heard and these needs can be met and supported if we would just hold true to the supreme law of the land: The US Constitution. Stop and hear in your mind the echo of these immortal words captured in the Declaration of Independence, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness." Think about it. This idea, this concept was enough to take the castoff souls from the people groups of the world and bring us together into the great nation we are today. In spite of the American Slave Trade, The French Indian (Native American) Wars, The Mexican/American War and a number of other wars and conflicts we have grown to become a great nation. No enemy has ever manage to take this great land from without, but like Rome and Greece before her we stand on the brink of being destroyed not from without, but from the gluttony of selfishness and spiritual blindness from within.

The New Black Voice

I don’t want to misrepresent myself in this, there has never been a time when a single voice has spoken for all black people. Whether we look back to the time of the Civil War and slavery, blacks have always found themselves on both sides of the argument.  Although they did not represent a large percentage of the Confederate force, about 3000 men, Blacks did indeed fight for the South.
As a fourth grade student one of my first heroes was the great reformer Fredrick Douglas who counseled with presidents and spoke on behalf of the Women's Suffrage movement and even he had his detractors.  Moving forward we had the opposing voices of Booker T. Washington and those of the Harlem Renaissance such as W.E.B. Du Bois  that complained that Washington's pace was too slow. But even in that, the voices in the wind were divided: The Nonviolent Cry of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. contrasted against the militant voice of Malcolm X. All that to be said, we have never had just one voice.
As a child during the height of the Black Power Movement, I remember sitting in a meeting where the  keynote speaker, Mayor Johnny Ford, spoke on the importance of education. His sentiment was captured in a quote burned into the mind of a 6 year-old boy, "You're walking around town with your fist in the air. You've got nothing in your hand, nothing in your head, and nothing in your pocket."  What a far cry from what we hear now, in that it is someone else's responsibility to fix and care for our communities.
So looking forward, I find myself wondering where the new Black Voice will arise. A voice calling for personal growth, true spiritual sensitivity, and an ownership of ourselves and our families. I've heard it said and I must say I agree, "The government has done to the black man what the slave master and plantation never could; we have given over control of ourselves and families to the unseen but omnipresent personality of "The Man."

SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE JOSEPH

S ometimes I feel like Joseph. What I mean is Joseph was a Hebrew bought and then sold into slavery in Egypt. A son of Israel, a servant of the one true God, now a slave in a country where the language and customs were different, the people despised (shepherding) the very identity by which his family is called; and above all, where the people served a whole plethora of gods and the headman, Pharaoh, thought himself to be a god.   
P erhaps I’ve overstated my situation too much, but I feel the comparison holds true on many levels. Let me try to explain. 
A s a black man in America, born and raised in the South: Selma,Alabama, home of the Edmund Pettus Bridge, Bloody Sunday, Klan marches, and the hub of the civil rights movement, my world was Black. By this, I mean my worldview was monoethnistic and I saw the world through a single cultural lens.  
N ow as an adult, and here is where the comparison to Joseph comes in, I have lived exclusively within the cultural groupings of white America. This was not done by any particular or conscious choice on my part, but rather was due to a series of apparently unrelated and innocuous events.   
L ike Joseph, I came of age in a foreign culture; also like Joseph, I took a wife from a people and an ethnic group not my own.  And like Joseph, my children are of mixed heritage. But most of all, like Joseph, my wife, children, and I are all servants of the one true God.
N onetheless, for the southern raised black man this has offered me the opportunity to see the World, America, and myself from a whole new perspective.  So in light of all the news of what I call the New Black Voice , I thought I would add the echo of my own. For in many ways the rhetoric I hear coming from the black community is far different from the tones I heard as the backdrop of my world growing up. 
O ver the next few postings, I would like to explore some of those thoughts with you and hear from you as well, as we discuss the topics and ideas of family, education, faith and religion; and of course, we will have to discuss politics. For within the black world, next to faith and family, politics reigns unchallenged. So strap in and settle down and let’s take this ride together and when we’re done, hopefully we’ll all be a little bit better understood by the other.

Release the KRACKEN!

This was a famous line from the movie Clash of the Titans, it was also the tag line from one of my reviewers. And yes, it does feel as if I've finally released the Kracken. I have been so busy getting KRACKEN released that it has been a long time since I've done a post. I thought as a way back, I would give you a quick view into KRACKEN, hope you enjoy it.




Before... 
Late 24th Century Old Calendar, the year 135 in the New Reckoning.
The lighting technician looked up just as he slid the last panel shut, a smile brightening his already exuberant expression. “M-M-Mr. Stone—” “I told you to call me—”“I m-mean Mr. Mike. Excuse me, sir.” The man rose and dusted his hands on the pant leg of his trousers and grasped Mike Stone’s outstretched hand. “This is going to make you the most powerful man in The Company, sir.” Mike smiled as he looked past the edge of the wall and took in the sight of over twenty-five thousand people who had gathered to hear his announcement and to witness his rise to power. At the podium stood Ted Waters. Though several years Mike’s elder, he served as the junior partner to Mike Stone on the Gliese 581G project. He turned in a broad gesture; his hand extended toward the side of the stage where Mike stood just out of sight. “Ladies and gentlemen of the New Earth Order, join me in welcoming the man who has made this all possible. Who, by his single-minded drive, imagination, and sheer determination, has opened new regions of space for not only our exploration, but also our expansion and settlement. Help me in welcoming…Mike Stone.” Outside the hall, a summer storm raged. Flashes of lightning illuminated the translucent ceiling, sending a strobing effect over the heads of the attendees. Arriving at the podium amidst applause, Mike raised both arms. He absorbed the praise, then pointed to the ceiling. “Now, we can’t let a little something like lightning dampen our celebration.” Smiling, he rubbed the side of his face with a knuckle while manipulating a series of small controls on the podium surface with his free hand and instantly the ceiling shimmered and became opaque.The crowd erupted into greater applause. In the wings, Ted Waters watched and his face darkened. From above and behind Mike, a giant avatar, matching Mike’s every movement and expression, emanating from the ceiling, flickered and came to life.The room faded to black and silence enveloped the hall. After a moment, the sound of Mike’s voice began to rise, echoing in the cavernous space, as if coming from a great distance. Overhead, the image of deep space and the planets of the galaxy zoomed into view. Following the commonly recognized spatial bodies, rose the image of a single planet, at least twice the size of Earth. The image continued forward until it filled the screen.Mike stood with his feet spread shoulder width apart, and after first lowering his face, he thrust both arms above his head in triumph and roared.The auditorium erupted into applause.“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mike announced, “I give you Yargon!” The view changed as it followed the camera down through the atmosphere; clouds appeared then sped by as the view crashed through a jungle canopy. Spooked, a flock of giant birds with strange and colorful plumages, rose, screaming in protest. As the descent slowed, the view opened to kilometer after kilometer of verdant plains stretching out in every direction as gentle streams and wide mouthed rivers poured in from unseen sources.On the stage, a light, as if from a star, bluish white in color, cascaded from the rafters, illuminating Mike where he stood. His charcoal colored suit and bone scarf reflected the light from his athletic frame. Applause and cheers filled the chamber. Mike relished the moment—his ascension to greatness.Off stage, the technician smiled and turned to look back at Ted Waters. He froze. The look of cold hatred on Ted Waters’s face burned as if it were a living thing. Locking eyes, Waters did not speak but stared at the younger man. Then without uttering a single sound, he turned and walked away.
What you've just read is the prolog for KRACKEN and I'm hoping it whetted your appetite to investigate further.  If so you can get your copy at either Amazon.com or from the publisher's site. Thank you.

KRACKEN - Character Introduction: Mike Stone

It's January and Kracken has just cleared its final edit. To help introduce Kracken to the world, I started a series of character introductions a while back. The first post was of our protagonist, or the as we say in the common tongue - the star of the show,  Mike Stone.

Here's the scene I chose to give you a hint of the journey Mike takes in the story: ( I hope you enjoy it.)

Mike kissed her forehead. “I will be back.” As Mike crept closer to the sound of the falling whip, he suddenly began to understand what Rosemary knew—only too well.

A man’s voice, stilted with callous disregard, spoke over the sound of crying. “Four more of you worthless whelps are missing,” The angry voice continued, dripping with undisguised hatred. “I’m going to beat you one by one until either you tell me where the others are or until you’re all dead. Don't matter to me one way or the other.” The angry voice flicked his wrist and the whip jumped as if alive, snaking out and biting the exposed skin of a child’s thigh. Another lash answered by another cry.

“You sorry excuse for—” The angry voice withdrew the whip, wet with blood, and began his forward motion. The whip froze mid-strike. “—what the…” He turned and looked into Mike’s burning gaze.

A shot fired.

Two more C-men, laughing while holding the teenage boy who was being beaten, looked up in sudden surprise, then bewilderment, and finally fear. Their gaze traveled to the hot anger in Mike’s face to their comrade lying dead at his feet; a fist sized hole still smoldering in his chest where the laser blast terminated his protest. 

This was posted on Face Book back in December, but not here so I thought to bring it back arround.

A scene from Kracken due for release Feb2015. 

KRACKEN - Character Introduction: Ted Waters

So now we come to the bad guy, the antagonist, Ted Waters himself. I mean what would our protagonist do if he didn't have a bad guy to slap him around and push him a little bit.

But before we get to that, how about an update. The last proof is almost done and then our editor will do her last sweep through the manuscript; finally the layout artist adds his magic touch. Poof! Pow! and we're done. Then the pre-readers will get the first shot at Kracken then its out to the public. I don't think I've ever been this excited for a book releases as I am for Kracken .

So  without delay, I introduce you to Ted Waters, CEO of The Company:


Excerpt from Kracken by Ray Ellis:



“Look at them,” a male voice said to her. Ted Waters stood with his back to her, staring out the wall-sized window. The vista that was Millennium City, formally Uptown Manhattan, seemed to go on forever in every direction. Much of the Hudson River now channeled underground and what had been New Jersey was now encompassed within the new city. With over a hundred million people, Millennium was the largest city on Earth, rebuilt on the ruins of old New York just after the final skirmishes of the last world war over a hundred years prior. “We built this city brick by brick, layer by layer. Reconstructing it from the fragments left after the rebels and religious fanatics had finished killing each other. Feral dogs!”Iona had heard the speech before—many times. She watched as Ted Waters stood motionless in the charcoal gray suit that was his staple, his hands clasped behind his back. She admired that he maintained his excellent physical condition, looking only a third of his sixty-plus years. Waters continued talking, taking no notice of her. “They are small-minded individuals, fighting amongst themselves without the foresight to see beyond their own petty issues. They are animals, ignorant as children, threatening the very structure of civilization itself with their insignificant ideals.” He shifted his gaze, but still looked out of the window. “We saved them from themselves.” Iona stood quietly, knowing better than to interrupt, knowing that Ted Waters would acknowledge her when he was ready. “The Company brought an end to the chaos, and in its place inserted order. We have taken control, removing or reducing the variables of their meager existence giving them stability and peace.”He turned to face Iona. He walked over and sat behind his oversized desk. “In the old world, more than a few generations back, my family were shepherds; did you know that, Ms. Bowers?” Iona still said nothing; she was not expected to. Waters continued, more talking at her than to her. “People are like sheep. They need a leader—a shepherd.” He spread his hands toward her. “I provide that service; I am the shepherd.“I protect and care for the sheep, and in turn, the sheep produce a certain standard of living for the portion of society”—he smiled sardonically—“that provides that care. By this industry, the shepherds enjoy a certain standard of living. A perfect balance.” Waters finally looked directly into her eyes, “Ms. Bowers, that balance has been disturbed.”The office felt dark. Even though the curtains stood opened, very little light seemed to filter into the room. A feeling of heaviness lingered in the office like the smell of a burnt meal after the ruined repast had been discarded. Smokey-bronze light fixtures built into dark leather wall coverings, set against a blood red carpet with over-sized elaborate furnishings reflected the man whose office it was. His throne-like desk sat in the center of the space, very large and made from rich, lunar marble, its subtle veins of dull color teasing the eye with suppressed hues. The large leather chair, with its polished brass spike mounted at the intersection of the shoulder blades, above the juncture of the intercostal nerves, stood in stark contrast to the dark leather wall coverings. 
Ah, now you have had a brief view of Ted Waters, I am looking forward to your getting to know him personally; or perhaps we shouldn't make it too close.  Smile

KRACKEN - Character Introduction: Mary Stone and Iona Bowers

Hi there again.

We are so close! The first proof is in and the editor is doing her magic. The second proof will be done by early next week, then the last stage, the clean up, and finally to the layout and we will be live. Can you believe it?

A few weeks ago, I introduced you to Mike Stone, our hero character, but in this second intro, I thought I would present the women of Kracken;  Mary Stone, Mike's wife; and Iona Bowers, their nemesis.

Mary is a young mother of three, two boys 7 and about 5 and a baby girl under two years old. Here's a clip showing Mary and Iona together, just another day in the world of Kracken. Enjoy.

Excerpt from Kracken by Ray Ellis:



“As you were, lieutenant.” A stern voice came from just outside the front door. The blow stopped mere inches from Mary’s face.“But she—”“I said, as you were. Besides, I really don’t want to see you get beat up in front of your men by a woman holding a baby.” Iona Bowers walked slowly into the room. Just inside the door, she stood, feet spread shoulder width apart, and her hands hanging relaxed by her side. She looked coolly into the face of the officer. He trembled with rage at the perceived offense to his authority. With great effort, the man brought himself under control. “Yes, ma’am.”Taking his obedience for granted, Iona said dismissively “Wait outside,” and walked past him without so much as a second glance in his direction. Finally turning her attention to Mary, she said, “So this is what you’ve come to.” She looked around the small home, a sneer turning the corners of her lips. Iona smiled; it was not pleasant.Mary looked down at her children. The baby had gone from fussy to crying, twisting and pulling in her arms. Travist stood hugging her leg, his tear-streaked face pressed against her thigh. And M2, how he reminded her of Mike, stood heaving angrily, his small hands fisted, stared after the uniformed men.Mary watched helplessly as the officers first violated the privacy of her home, opening and checking cabinets; even pulling clothing from the closets. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they left. Feeling violated and very much alone, Mary turned to face Iona. “So, Waters sent you to do his dirty work again?” Then shifting the crying baby in her arms, she stooped until she was face level with her sons. “You guys were great. Now be a big help to Mommy, go to your room and start cleaning up the mess those bad men made. Mommy has to talk to the lady.” She kissed each of their cheeks and foreheads before dismissing them.“Well, Mary, is this really the best you could do?” Iona said, indicating the modest home. She drew a manicured finger along the wall, checking her hand for dust. She rubbed it clean on the back of the sofa. “Doesn’t seem like much for the once best and brightest The Company had to offer.” Her words dripped with sarcasm and were intended to cause pain. Mary did not respond.Iona walked around Mary, appraising her. “I can't believe just how much you’ve let yourself go.” Iona’s voice was silky, her tone condescending. As she moved, her hair poured over her shoulders like fountains of liquid fire, green eyes sparkled with barely contained energy. Wearing a black body suit beneath a short emerald jacket, she stood in stark contrast to Mary, who in sweats and one of Mike’s old shirts had been relaxing with her children just before being broken in on.They were friends once. They had shared a deep and rich history, once. Now all that existed between the two women was jealousy, hatred, fear, and pity. Iona stared at Mary, loving her position of dominance. “You thought you’d beaten me, didn’t you?” She laughed. Mary still said nothing.“Everything you worked for, I have. I have your living quarters. Of course, I had to have it redecorated. I even have your old office.” She sighed. “What? You got nothing to say? Oh, I’ve dreamt of this day. The day when little Miss Mary Perfect, with everything just so, would have to come begging to me.” Laughter erupted from her. “Everything you ever worked for, I have; it’s all mine.”“I have hischildren,” Mary said snidely and regretted it the moment she did. “I’m sorry,” she said reaching out toward Iona.Anger swelled in Iona. “How dare you?” She stepped menacingly toward Mary. “How…dare…you!” She slapped Mary, the blow catching her full across the face. “Don’t you dare pity me.”Mary turned with the blow, positioning her shoulder between her daughter and Iona. “Iona, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” She adjusted the baby in her arms, nuzzling her neck, and she spoke around the agitated child. “You and I were friends once, closer even…” She hesitated, kissed the baby’s face and looked back to Iona. “Mike chose me. It doesn’t mean that  we—”Iona stepped toward Mary. “Sorry? Oh, you will be sorry. Before I’m done, Mary Stone, you will be very sorry.” She spun and stalked out of the house. “Oh, God,” Mary cried, sinking into the chair behind her. “Oh, God, I keep saying the wrong things.” Her emotions broke on her like waves crashing onto shore. Curling her legs beneath herself, she rocked absentmindedly, hugging her daughter to her breast and silently wishing her husband was with her to comfort her. The baby, quieted, rested her face against her mother’s. Looking upward, Mary cried softly, “Lord, Jesus help me. I can’t do this by myself. I’m not strong, Lord. I’m just not.” Looking out the opened door, Mary watched the small parade of vehicles float away. She spoke again, “I’m scared, Lord. Help me not to hate her.” Turning, she saw her sons who had come upon hearing her cry. Then with silent tears, they embraced and sat quietly, staring at the russet sky. 

I hope you enjoyed this and are anticipating the release as much as I am.

Next week I'll introduce you to our true antagonist, Ted Waters.

Kracken is coming! Kracken is coming!

When I stopped long enough to realize that we were, finally into the last month of 2014 I just had to say,"Wow!"   

So much has happened since last year this time. I have a new job assignment, my college age daughter has moved home from New York, my oldest son has moved to New York and my youngest son has started a new path in life. On top of all that, my wife and I celebrated another year of marriage, yep-yep, 31 yearstogether. 

And there have been losses. There have been friends and family that have moved on from this life into the next. The comfortable part comes in knowing that we will see them again.



And yes, finally, Kracken is online and being readied for release. 

The proof copies are ordered and the screeners are set. Next comes the pre-readers. Yes, yes, and praise God! 

 If you want to stay in the loop check out my Kracken Page.