Books

Plant An Evil Seed

Category: Mystery/Suspense Publisher: PublishAmerica Type: Fiction

Pages: 206 ISBN: 1413708161 Copyright: December 1, 2001

Available at: PublishAmerica.com, Amazon.com, BN.com

Set against a background of the calamitous events of September 11, 2001, Plant An Evil Seed is the story of a man who viciously murders his wife, and then tells everyone that she died in the World Trade Center south tower as a result of the terrorist attacks. Her surviving brother and sister, however, think otherwise and must resort to a most unusual way of seeing that justice is served.

Exerpt:

“But what about the concept of justice? “ asked Derry, gesturing imaginary quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “I mean, after all, you were a cop.”
“Well, now…since you asked, I’ll explain justice to you,” said Carter. “There are several kinds of justice out there,” he said, nodding toward the street. “There’s the classical concept, which most people believe occurs when a jury decides a verdict. It doesn’t matter if the defendant is guilty as sin -- as long as the jury says he’s not guilty, or innocent -- as long as they find him guilty. That’s justice. Shut up and accept it…that’s justice. Right or wrong, we have to accept it. It’s the American way.”

“Then there’s street justice. Most people never hear about it as street justice, because it’s usually called payback, and it’s when one criminal does something criminal to another criminal, and the party of the second part pays back the party of the first part by either kicking his ass, icing him altogether, or by stealing his stash, his money, or his ride…anything to pay the other guy back. It’s something we all understand, but it’s just too primordial for our system to handle. Instead, we insist that one, or both, should face justice in our more civilized, classic concept that I first described. In some rare instances, we maybe even decide that neither of them should be brought to justice.” Now it was Carter who supplied the imaginary quotation marks in the air.

“Finally…there’s real justice. Real justice is not dished out here on earth – it’s only available in the hereafter. And if you were raised a Catholic, as I was, you’d know that eventually every one of us will be called to answer for what we’ve done here on earth. The Catholics say there’s three possible destinations – Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Most of the people I know are bound for the deepest of Deep South, including me. I know that Annalisa is in Heaven, so I guess I’ll probably not get to see her in my afterlife. Anyway…there’s your explanation of justice.” Carter took a healthy sip from his Scotch.

Jacob's Pal

Category: Historical Fiction Publisher: PublishAmerica Type: Fiction

Pages: 197 ISBN: 1413700764 Copyright: May 10, 2000

Available at: PublishAmerica.com, Amazon.com, BN.com

“Jacob’s Pal” covers the little-known raucous, human side of Abraham Lincoln, and provides a tremendous amount of insight into a man repeatedly chosen as our best President, generation after generation. Accurately researched, it is a humorous, yet poignant look at Lincoln and his fictional best friend growing up and experiencing life in the early nineteenth century.

Exerpt:

In another area of the docks, there was a public bare-knuckle boxing match, and a short, swarthy, and extremely hairy-chested sailor was taking on all comers. Although he was still smarting a bit from his injuries at the hands of the slaves back in Natchez, Abraham simply could not resist the challenge. The reward was a paltry ten dollars for each round that anyone could last with the heavily tattooed swabby, and Abraham was certain that he could last at least one five minute round with the stocky sailor.

When young Lincoln entered the ring, he took off his shirt and nearly blinded the audience with his milk-white skin. His thin, scrawny frame drew several skeptical comments from those ringside, who were certain that the muscular, stocky sailor would kill the skinny, long-limbed teenager. Bets were being placed right and left and Jacob was the only one to wager on his pal. An old toothless stevedore bet him four dollars against Jacob’s two that Lincoln wouldn’t survive the round.

A well dressed man in a suit, with a ruffled shirt saw Jacob betting on Abraham and asked if, he too, could get a piece of the action.

“What do you got in mind”? Jacob asked warily.

“I’ll give you two to one that Sailor Sam will take him out in the first round,” said the New Orleans dandy.

“Now let me get this straight,” said Jacob. “If’n I’s to bet you twenty-five dollars, you say you’d give me fifty back if my pal, “A” h’yere, lasts through the first round”?

“Yes… I can cover that much,” replied the man with a sly smile. “But do you even have twenty-five dollars”?

Jacob reached into his pocket and eagerly pulled out twenty-five dollars from the total sum of money that Abraham had given him to hold while he boxed. The man then pulled out his fifty dollars and both of them gave it to the man to hold who had been promoting the match. Luckily for Jacob – Abraham never saw what happened. He was too busy taking off his shirt and jacket. Abraham also removed his shoes, for the pure comfort of boxing barefoot.

When the bell rang, the veteran boxer bore in on Abraham like a weevil on a cotton plant, but the long arms of Lincoln were able to keep him pretty much at bay. Time after time, Abraham was able to land long, looping punches to the sides and top of the other man’s head. At no time did the other man land a blow to Lincoln’s head. Instead, the sailor covered his head and began to hammer at the pale and prominent ribcage before him. By the time the round was half over, it seemed like Abraham was a certainty to last the distance, if not beat the other man outright. However, as the round wore on, it was apparent that the veteran boxer was punishing Lincoln, who was breathing wholly through his mouth and with a good deal of effort too.

Abraham’s body was a mass of ugly red welts, each one evidence of where the shorter-armed man had consistently scored. To his credit, Lincoln had bloodied his opponent’s nose slightly and also caused the man’s left eye to swell shut. Abraham was virtually unmarked above the neck.

Near the four-minute mark, Abraham was holding on and trying desperately to last the bout. It was also just what the other man wanted – additional opportunity to land more of his vicious shots at Abraham’s torso. At under thirty seconds to go, Abraham somehow collected himself and with a super-human effort, managed to push the aggressor off him, and as he did, he shot a solid straight right on line for the man’s nose. When the fist hit the nostrils, there was an ugly “crunching” sound as the cartilage was crushed and blood erupted from both nostrils. Stunned, the older man stepped back and gasped, trying to get his breath as great quantities of blood spurted out, much of it landing on Lincoln.

As he drew back for one last attack on the skinny teenager, the bell rang and the man literally fell forward and enveloped Abraham with a gigantic bearhug, and said, “Nice fight, kid”! Abraham was too winded to do any more than return the hug and nod his head affirmatively. The fight promoter, in an effort to try to tip the scales in his fighter’s favor had actually allowed the round to run for nearly six minutes.

The Killing Frost: An American Tragedy

Category: Historical Fiction Publisher: IndyPublish Type: Fiction

Available at: BooksAMillion.com, Amazon.com, BN.com

On March 8, 1782, in the Ohio Territory, ninety-six Christian Delaware Indians -- men, women, and children -- were summarily and brutally executed by a small group of colonial militiamen from Fort Pitt. It is a true story with which very few Americans are familiar, but "The Killing Frost" details this tragedy, along with the poignant account of the dedicated Moravian missionaries who suffered with them. Their combined misfortunes include being used as pawns by both sides during the Revolutionary War, being forced marched by the British nearly 200 miles in near-freezing weather, facing the death penalty during a British trial on charges of espionage, and other numerous incidents of mistreatment culminating in the cruel massacre.

Exerpt:

One by one, the innocent and constantly abused converted Delaware were led to the area of the cemetery and clubbed over the head viciously while they bent in prayer. Two soldiers would then grab the body and carry it a short distance to the edge of the nearby woods, where it was simply cast away. With each successive killing, the excitement grew within each of the men allowed to swing the giant hammer. Each of the soldiers took a turn swinging the death blows except the Colonel and the Lieutenant.

The smell of death was in the air and it took a long time to kill each of the men and then toss his body aside. Each victim simply walked from the cabin and knelt where ordered, and was summarily crushed from this life. It was a simple slaughter and the victims could not have been more compliant had they been sheep. In fact, some of the onlookers began to bleat derisively like sheep as each successive victim was slain. The sound of the hard maple mallet striking the victim's head echoed harshly through the still Ohio countryside, and a puff of steam would erupt from each exploding skull as it shattered. The warm blood that gushed from the wounds had, in places begun to freeze, and gave a strange rosy appearance to the frosty earth.

In the structure which had been housing the women and children, Leta and several other women pressed against the walls for a partial view through the slim cracks in the wall, for the cabin had no windows. They were aghast at what their eyes revealed. Leta hurriedly grabbed her youngest son, Jacob, and held him tight against her body, as if to deny the murderers a chance at him. Then she quickly rushed him to the far corner of the cabin and began digging frantically at the mud which had been used to seal the cracks in the boards which formed the wall. In uncontrollable fear, and with her adrenaline racing out of control through her own body, she kicked and kicked at the bottom two boards, thrashing loudly about and kicking so hard that her feet began to bleed.

She began to kick even harder when the door to the cabin was opened by the soldiers who now began taking the first of the women and children victims. Others within the tiny darkened space began weeping quietly when they began to realize the fate of their own loved ones. So great was the urgency of Leta's action and the fear for her children that her own bladder began to give slightly, in an internal physical response to fear that was simply ignored. Another mother saw what Leta was doing and soon joined her in attacking the same two bottom boards in the corner. They backed against the wall and alternated in kicking and kicking and kicking. Both of the women were covered with blood from their own wounds, but it only made them kick harder and harder. Eventually, they heard a small cracking sound and hesitated to make sure of what they thought they had heard. Sure enough, a small vertical crack appeared in the weathered bottom board, and they now kicked with even greater determination. When a piece of the board broke loose, it opened a hole about 4 inches by 10 inches, and they stooped and pulled at the board above it. Frantically, because the number of people in the room had begun to noticeably dwindle, they alternately kicked, punched, and pulled at the next board until their hands were also bloody. Finally, with one almost superhuman effort, Leta knelt and pulled the next board with all her might, and it snapped free, causing her to fall backwards, with the piece in her hands. Now the women had a hole about 8 inches by 10 inches and Leta grabbed Jacob, and kissed him hurriedly and with such force that it hurt the child. Then she literally crammed and shoved him out the hole, which was barely bigger than the child's head. Her only instruction was for him to run and hide, and Jacob did exactly as he was told.