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Time Donors Wanted
If you could have a one time affair with someone you've never met before and could never see again and no one would ever find out, would you? Want to find out what could happen if you answered yes? Read my new novel Time Donors Wanted from IsoLibris available on Amazon, i Books, and B&N. Let me know what you think at www.IsoLibris.com. Scott
Magick! Mystery! Murder! Ash: Return Of The Beast
Whew! After 3 years it's finally finished! Just made it available on Kindle a couple days ago. I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see this day. LOL
PG-13, Parental Guidance suggested.
Website:
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The Facts (according to the Aleister Crowley biography, "A Magick Life" by Martin Booth):
Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) was (and still is) arguably the most notorious occultist and practitioner of the "Black Arts" (Magick) the world has ever known. The British press labeled him "The Wickedest Man In The World". His own mother referred to him as "The Beast". When he died in England his body was cremated. The urn containing his ashes was sent to a man in New Jersey who promptly buried it beneath an oak tree in his yard. Sometime later he went to dig it up and found it had mysteriously disappeared. What became of it has remained a mystery... until now.
The story:
Ash: Return of the Beast reveals how the urn vanished, where it ended up, and how - many years later - it became the obsession of a rising young rock star with a disturbing past and a more disturbing future. What role did it play in the deaths of several pastors from a variety of religious faiths? What did it have to do with the most bizarre and ultimately the most baffling case that street-worn detective, Brian Kane, ever had to solve?
What are those strange symbols branded onto the bodies of the dead preachers? Were they all part of some bizarre cult? Or is it something else? Is it murder? Where's the evidence? And what is the disturbing secret that Kane is keeping so close to his chest?
Kane is reluctantly teamed up with FBI Special Agent, Rowena Ravenwood, an expert in the occult. The clues to solve the case are in short supply and so is the amount of time left to stop the killer before all Hell breaks loose. And, according to Ravenwood, that's not just a figure of speech.
Characters In SUCCESSION 2
Garrison And Diana
Garrison took Diana’s arm and steered her to the elevator down to the trains. He hadn’t met her parents until a month after they married and his first reaction had been revulsion that she carried their genes.
They’d been happy to learn his father was a doctor. Big income! Some of it might flow to them. Now, two years later, they felt cheated—no big income, nor even a job. Maybe he was living off Diana. That was what they had hoped to do.
So far, Diana hadn't become pregnant. People who knew her supposed it was because she was too intense about her job. It did not displease him that that was what people who knew her supposed. He’d come to accept that his father would die without grandchildren.
To read the balance, please go to Reply 1
Garrison took Diana’s arm and steered her to the elevator down to the trains. He hadn’t met her parents until a month after they married and his first reaction had been revulsion that she carried their genes.
They’d been happy to learn his father was a doctor. Big income! Some of it might flow to them. Now, two years later, they felt cheated—no big income, nor even a job. Maybe he was living off Diana. That was what they had hoped to do.
So far, Diana hadn't become pregnant. People who knew her supposed it was because she was too intense about her job. It did not displease him that that was what people who knew her supposed. He’d come to accept that his father would die without grandchildren.
To read the balance, please go to Reply 1
Occult crime thriller... ASH: Return Of The Beast
Whew! After 3 years of work, my second novel, ASH: Return of the Beast, is finally finished. Should be available on Kindle by the end of November, 2011. Paperback soon to follow. I'm so excited!
Check out this killer book trailer. Turn up the volume. Oh, and you might want to keep the lights on. It's a little creepy. Mmuuahahahaaa!
Click here: view link
Fact:
Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) was (and still is) arguably the most notorious occultist and practitioner of the black arts the world has ever known. The British press labeled him "The Wickedest Man In The World". His own mother referred to him as "The Beast". When he died in England his body was cremated. The urn containing his ashes was sent to a man in New Jersey who promptly buried it beneath an oak tree in his yard. Sometime later he went to dig it up and found it had mysteriously vanished.
Ash: Return of the Beast is a fictional account of how the urn vanished, where it ended up, and how - many years later - it became the obsession of a rising young rock star with a disturbing past and a more disturbing future. What role did it play in the deaths of several pastors from a variety of religious faiths? What did it have to do with the most bizarre and ultimately most baffling crime case that street-worn detective, Brian Kane, ever had to solve?
Ash: Return of the Beast is an occult crime novel that takes the reader on a journey into the shadowy world of black magick and the dark recesses of the human mind.
Check out this killer book trailer. Turn up the volume. Oh, and you might want to keep the lights on. It's a little creepy. Mmuuahahahaaa!
Click here: view link
Fact:
Aleister Crowley (1875-1947) was (and still is) arguably the most notorious occultist and practitioner of the black arts the world has ever known. The British press labeled him "The Wickedest Man In The World". His own mother referred to him as "The Beast". When he died in England his body was cremated. The urn containing his ashes was sent to a man in New Jersey who promptly buried it beneath an oak tree in his yard. Sometime later he went to dig it up and found it had mysteriously vanished.
Ash: Return of the Beast is a fictional account of how the urn vanished, where it ended up, and how - many years later - it became the obsession of a rising young rock star with a disturbing past and a more disturbing future. What role did it play in the deaths of several pastors from a variety of religious faiths? What did it have to do with the most bizarre and ultimately most baffling crime case that street-worn detective, Brian Kane, ever had to solve?
Ash: Return of the Beast is an occult crime novel that takes the reader on a journey into the shadowy world of black magick and the dark recesses of the human mind.
Just wondering...
I thought I'd stop by to say Hi! - and also ask if any of you utilize a reader for a manuscript while it is in progress?
I used to have the BEST reader in the world...lost her...and have not been able to find anyone since.
I used to have the BEST reader in the world...lost her...and have not been able to find anyone since.
Characters from SUCCESSION
He put down the phone and helped his father up the long hallway to the bedrooms, surprised at how thin his thick arm had grown.
He’d been born in Hell's Kitchen before they invented the electric light and he’d learned to walk with a swagger and swing his arms when he left the house. If that didn’t work, he threw the first punch. He still had his Hell’s Kitchen swagger but had lost muscle these last years. Even his height had diminished. Helping him up the hallway, Garrison had a sudden vision of his future-self shuffling up the same hallway, bleeding, enfeebled, alone. He saw a pool on the floor in the hallway, another on the bedroom floor.
He found a mop, a bucket and pine tar cleaner. His father, another born hermit, pretended not to notice. At nine, Garrison phoned Admitting, but the people of the daytime didn’t remember his father, either. He phoned Dr. Gravis, who'd succeeded his father as head of obstetrics, but Dr.Gravis was fishing in Nova Scotia. Garrison left a message.
When his father retired from Riverside, the administration had promised him lifetime medical care in the private wing and proposed naming the new obstetrical wing after him, but that was eleven years ago. The then-director had died in April and the promise was not in writing.
"How about a semi-private?” Garrison asked. “Till a private gets free?"
Clutching his abdomen, biting the skin beneath his lower lip, trying not to make the sounds people make when they’re in pain, his father shook his head. He didn’t want a semi-private. Elephants die alone.
"They have a private room at Heights Hospital." That was a public hospital, connected to Riverside by underground tunnel. His father had done charity work there.
"Down my office,” his father grunted. “Brown bottle with a medicine dropper. Upper right-hand drawer.”
Garrison said he didn’t want to leave him alone.
His father bared his teeth. “Can’t trace three or four drops.”
He’d been a doctor for fifty-three years, delivered ten thousand babies, lengthened thousands of lives, been a field-surgeon during the Battle of Saint-Mihiel and the Meuse-Argonne Campaign. When the gods shoved him off the tightrope, he’d go teeth clenched, in a dignified pike. If you jumped they hauled you back and ran you through the worst of it a second time—probably even added a wrinkle or two.
After Never show pain and Do no wrong his father’s creed was No unpaid debts. You sit with your ancestors after you die. All you have is the grace with which you walk the rope and the dignity with which you fall off it. Live so as to bring honor to your family and defeat to the malevolent gods.
He’d married Garrison’s mother when he was forty-four, but she’d been too young, too full of poetry, too full of life for the family to accept. Or so said his mother.
“They’re frozen inside blocks of ice,” she said when she left. “Up to their necks. They tried to freeze me too, but I wouldn’t let them. Don’t let them do it to you! You have his blood. Be humane!” she’d cried.
Had he been? Was he now?
His father was angry with someone named Schultz. Garrison asked who that was, but his father waved him out, struggled out of bed, grabbing furniture and staggered into the bathroom.
Garrison stepped into his old bedroom. His father had covered the walls with photographs that tracked him from the cradle to the day he’d finished Ranger training. One showed him climbing the Civil War cannons across Riverside Drive, another using a urinal twice his height in the men's room at Penn Station, a third landing a left hook in the quarterfinals of the Golden Gloves. The picture frames were patched with cellophane tape that had yellowed over the years. The room was dusty, the windows unwashed. The patched places looked worse than the broken ones.
"Who's doing the cleaning?"
"No one," his father grunted.
"How come?"
"They were stealing."
"You catch them?"
"You never catch them," his father said.
Schultz turned out to be a doctor from whom his father was scheduled to get a transfusion at noon. Garrison phoned to get him there sooner. Schultz complained that he’d rearranged his entire schedule to accommodate his father at noon. Now Garrison wanted to bring him at ten.
"He should be in the hospital. What kind of a son are you?"
He told Schultz he was having difficulty getting a room.
Schultz said he could get Garrison all the rooms he wanted. "University Hospital, Mt. Sinai, New York...any hospital you can name…."
"Riverside Medical Center."
"Is the name of the hospital more important than your father's life?"
Noting the grayish pallor of his father’s face, his bloated abdomen, recalling the futility of his efforts to stanch the flow of blood by crossing his legs, he told Schultz to come to the house. From Schultz’s reaction, he could tell his father owed him money. When Schultz arrived, he held a bag of blood in Garrison's face.
"Find someplace to hang this."
Garrison put the floor lamp on top of the night table between his father’s bed and the one his mother had slept in. He watched Schultz hang the blood on the lamp, insert the needle and adjust the nozzle. He listened to instructions on how to extract the needle when the bag was empty, and heard a repeat of the claims about getting his father into hospital rooms. Schultz, not born to be a hermit, took pride in his ability to pull strings and disapproved of hospitals into which his strings did not extend.
Unwilling to acknowledge pain in front of Schultz, his father complimented him on the quality of the transfusion. Schultz addressed his father as Doctor and counseled Garrison to get him into a hospital immediately.
"Why does it have to be Riverside?" he asked as he left.
He’d been born in Hell's Kitchen before they invented the electric light and he’d learned to walk with a swagger and swing his arms when he left the house. If that didn’t work, he threw the first punch. He still had his Hell’s Kitchen swagger but had lost muscle these last years. Even his height had diminished. Helping him up the hallway, Garrison had a sudden vision of his future-self shuffling up the same hallway, bleeding, enfeebled, alone. He saw a pool on the floor in the hallway, another on the bedroom floor.
He found a mop, a bucket and pine tar cleaner. His father, another born hermit, pretended not to notice. At nine, Garrison phoned Admitting, but the people of the daytime didn’t remember his father, either. He phoned Dr. Gravis, who'd succeeded his father as head of obstetrics, but Dr.Gravis was fishing in Nova Scotia. Garrison left a message.
When his father retired from Riverside, the administration had promised him lifetime medical care in the private wing and proposed naming the new obstetrical wing after him, but that was eleven years ago. The then-director had died in April and the promise was not in writing.
"How about a semi-private?” Garrison asked. “Till a private gets free?"
Clutching his abdomen, biting the skin beneath his lower lip, trying not to make the sounds people make when they’re in pain, his father shook his head. He didn’t want a semi-private. Elephants die alone.
"They have a private room at Heights Hospital." That was a public hospital, connected to Riverside by underground tunnel. His father had done charity work there.
"Down my office,” his father grunted. “Brown bottle with a medicine dropper. Upper right-hand drawer.”
Garrison said he didn’t want to leave him alone.
His father bared his teeth. “Can’t trace three or four drops.”
He’d been a doctor for fifty-three years, delivered ten thousand babies, lengthened thousands of lives, been a field-surgeon during the Battle of Saint-Mihiel and the Meuse-Argonne Campaign. When the gods shoved him off the tightrope, he’d go teeth clenched, in a dignified pike. If you jumped they hauled you back and ran you through the worst of it a second time—probably even added a wrinkle or two.
After Never show pain and Do no wrong his father’s creed was No unpaid debts. You sit with your ancestors after you die. All you have is the grace with which you walk the rope and the dignity with which you fall off it. Live so as to bring honor to your family and defeat to the malevolent gods.
He’d married Garrison’s mother when he was forty-four, but she’d been too young, too full of poetry, too full of life for the family to accept. Or so said his mother.
“They’re frozen inside blocks of ice,” she said when she left. “Up to their necks. They tried to freeze me too, but I wouldn’t let them. Don’t let them do it to you! You have his blood. Be humane!” she’d cried.
Had he been? Was he now?
His father was angry with someone named Schultz. Garrison asked who that was, but his father waved him out, struggled out of bed, grabbing furniture and staggered into the bathroom.
Garrison stepped into his old bedroom. His father had covered the walls with photographs that tracked him from the cradle to the day he’d finished Ranger training. One showed him climbing the Civil War cannons across Riverside Drive, another using a urinal twice his height in the men's room at Penn Station, a third landing a left hook in the quarterfinals of the Golden Gloves. The picture frames were patched with cellophane tape that had yellowed over the years. The room was dusty, the windows unwashed. The patched places looked worse than the broken ones.
"Who's doing the cleaning?"
"No one," his father grunted.
"How come?"
"They were stealing."
"You catch them?"
"You never catch them," his father said.
Schultz turned out to be a doctor from whom his father was scheduled to get a transfusion at noon. Garrison phoned to get him there sooner. Schultz complained that he’d rearranged his entire schedule to accommodate his father at noon. Now Garrison wanted to bring him at ten.
"He should be in the hospital. What kind of a son are you?"
He told Schultz he was having difficulty getting a room.
Schultz said he could get Garrison all the rooms he wanted. "University Hospital, Mt. Sinai, New York...any hospital you can name…."
"Riverside Medical Center."
"Is the name of the hospital more important than your father's life?"
Noting the grayish pallor of his father’s face, his bloated abdomen, recalling the futility of his efforts to stanch the flow of blood by crossing his legs, he told Schultz to come to the house. From Schultz’s reaction, he could tell his father owed him money. When Schultz arrived, he held a bag of blood in Garrison's face.
"Find someplace to hang this."
Garrison put the floor lamp on top of the night table between his father’s bed and the one his mother had slept in. He watched Schultz hang the blood on the lamp, insert the needle and adjust the nozzle. He listened to instructions on how to extract the needle when the bag was empty, and heard a repeat of the claims about getting his father into hospital rooms. Schultz, not born to be a hermit, took pride in his ability to pull strings and disapproved of hospitals into which his strings did not extend.
Unwilling to acknowledge pain in front of Schultz, his father complimented him on the quality of the transfusion. Schultz addressed his father as Doctor and counseled Garrison to get him into a hospital immediately.
"Why does it have to be Riverside?" he asked as he left.
Characters from SUCCESSION
He put down the phone and helped his father up the long hallway to the bedrooms, surprised at how thin his thick arm had grown.
He’d been born in Hell's Kitchen before they invented the electric light and he’d learned to walk with a swagger and swing his arms when he left the house. If that didn’t work, he threw the first punch. He still had his Hell’s Kitchen swagger but had lost muscle these last years. Even his height had diminished. Helping him up the hallway, Garrison had a sudden vision of his future-self shuffling up the same hallway, bleeding, enfeebled, alone. He saw a pool on the floor in the hallway, another on the bedroom floor.
To read the balance, please go to Reply 1
He’d been born in Hell's Kitchen before they invented the electric light and he’d learned to walk with a swagger and swing his arms when he left the house. If that didn’t work, he threw the first punch. He still had his Hell’s Kitchen swagger but had lost muscle these last years. Even his height had diminished. Helping him up the hallway, Garrison had a sudden vision of his future-self shuffling up the same hallway, bleeding, enfeebled, alone. He saw a pool on the floor in the hallway, another on the bedroom floor.
To read the balance, please go to Reply 1
New Novel
After a long absence, have just published SUCCESSION, a new novel available from Amazon.
Here is a summary:
To follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, Garrison quit college at the start of the Korean War and volunteered for the Rangers. Instead of going to Korea, he was assigned to an intelligence unit in Berlin and is now a downsizer of struggling businesses.
He has come to believe that his wife, Diana, a rising star in publishing, does not love him enough to get pregnant and that he does not trust her enough to make her pregnant.
He is offered a due diligence assignment at Kensington Typewriters by Carnusty, whom he suspects of having slept with Diana. Carnusty claims he wants Garrison to make Kensington profitable, but really intends to lay off the employees, sell the assets and develop the real estate.
Garrison accepts the assignment, begins his review and three months later, Diana announces that she is pregnant. Garrison suspects Carnusty and simultaneously discovers Carnusty’s true intentions for Kensington.
The background is Manhattan during the last days of the Kennedy Administration and the first of Vietnam. Garrison struggles personally and professionally as the business world gropes its way from typewriters and carbon paper to copiers and computers.
Here is a summary:
To follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, Garrison quit college at the start of the Korean War and volunteered for the Rangers. Instead of going to Korea, he was assigned to an intelligence unit in Berlin and is now a downsizer of struggling businesses.
He has come to believe that his wife, Diana, a rising star in publishing, does not love him enough to get pregnant and that he does not trust her enough to make her pregnant.
He is offered a due diligence assignment at Kensington Typewriters by Carnusty, whom he suspects of having slept with Diana. Carnusty claims he wants Garrison to make Kensington profitable, but really intends to lay off the employees, sell the assets and develop the real estate.
Garrison accepts the assignment, begins his review and three months later, Diana announces that she is pregnant. Garrison suspects Carnusty and simultaneously discovers Carnusty’s true intentions for Kensington.
The background is Manhattan during the last days of the Kennedy Administration and the first of Vietnam. Garrison struggles personally and professionally as the business world gropes its way from typewriters and carbon paper to copiers and computers.
Gene K. Garrison speaks
I will be speaking at the Sedona Public Library in Arizona at 6:30 p.m. on Tuesday,
November 1, 2011 about my books, "From Thunder to Breakfast," "Javelina," the third edition of "Widowhood Happens" and "There's Something About Cave Creek (It's The People)." It will las an hour to an hour-and-a-half, including a book-signing.
If you are in the area I will be glad to see you. If not, it's easy to look up on amazon.com.
Gene K. Garrison
November 1, 2011 about my books, "From Thunder to Breakfast," "Javelina," the third edition of "Widowhood Happens" and "There's Something About Cave Creek (It's The People)." It will las an hour to an hour-and-a-half, including a book-signing.
If you are in the area I will be glad to see you. If not, it's easy to look up on amazon.com.
Gene K. Garrison
My new book
In September my new book came on the market through Amazon, Barnes-Noble and iuniverse bookstore. The story is called, "The Beautiful Mistake."
The story is about how World War Two affected the lives of a young couple from the beginning to end, and the next fifty years of their marriage.
The story is about how World War Two affected the lives of a young couple from the beginning to end, and the next fifty years of their marriage.
