Friday, April 5, 2013
9:19 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
[Prompt: Write the opening sentence (25 words or fewer) to a story based on the photo above...]
"His depth perception was failing, or the sky was literally falling - either way he wanted answers and he wanted them NOW..."
Friday, March 29, 2013
12:56 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Poetry
Bending, submittingFalls to a breaking, shatteringHope crushed, mingled with a serpent's blood
A gaping maw devours
Gnashing, hellish teeth throw sparks
A sea of black smooths over the hole
A rain of darkness descends
A reign of darkness ascends
And those left above the sea are drowning
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
2:21 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
[Prompt: Write the opening sentence (25 words or fewer) to a story based on the photo above...]
"Ripples of Scarlet and alabaster shimmered before him as he lowered the gun slowly to his waist."
1:53 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
Writer's Digest Short Story Contest Entry, 2013
The man froze in his tracks. His weren’t the only ones pressed into the fresh fall of snow. A scuffling trail of sneakers - a child’s sized 7 - led from his front door, between his own, turning left down the sidewalk.
He panicked, dropping the shopping bag, splitting the milk jug and soaking the newspaper and paper bag of fresh-ground coffee. The cherry twizzler hung limp from his lips, an indecisive weathervane in the still air.
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Sunday, February 3, 2013
7:42 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
2013 "Beat the Clock" Contest Entry - Bookrix.com
Slats.
Lucy reached forward to poke her finger through, thinking that maybe she could see better. Jimmy yanked his four year old sister’s hand away from the door.
“Don’t do that!” he hissed. “Be quiet - and still.”
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Friday, February 1, 2013
3:36 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Humor
,
Short Stories
,
Work
The challenge: Create a new genre - "Cozy Apocalypse Mysteries"
Take One...
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Tuesday, September 4, 2012
4:33 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 13
(Sunday, 3:30PM - Canyon West, TX)
Mitch finds
himself back at The Colpoys home. He writes down what he knows up to
this point and the spirtual counsel he gains in La Grange. C.R. &
Sylvia arrive home after an emergency cell group leaders meeting.
They are disturbed about what they hear. There has been a tragedy in
the Pastor's household. Together they start investigating Mitch's
suspicions. Mitch takes a walk to decompress a bit. He meets people
that induce flashbacks from his subconscious. A geocacher leaves
Mitch with a thought that continues to nag him - 'when you find
something in the box you take it and replace it with something else.'
The carpet wasn't as
hard as Mitch expected. In fact, much more plush. The room had
suddenly grown quiet, hushed. Mitch raised his head from between his
hands to see what the quiet was all about. He saw a bedspread. It was
the guest bedroom of the Colpoys house and he was lying on the floor.
His fists dug into the thick pile of the carpet as he slowly pulled
in a deep breath. He closed his eyes again. He focused on the soft
hum of the old, 80's bed-side digital clock above his head to the
left; the even softer scent of some non-descript Glade plugin. Mitch
finally rose to his feet deliberately, the cheap faux leather of his
new belt squeaking as he straightened himself out. He looked down at
the outfit. The cheap tie was beginning to choke. He sat on the edge
of the bed and stared at his new shoes, trying to make sense of the
past 10 minutes. Then he thought about the past 18 hours.
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Saturday, August 18, 2012
2:22 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
She hit ‘snooze’ for the third time but her bladder trumped her plans. With a groan, she swung her feet to the cool oak boards, still slick from her 7th waxing this week.
Her cellphone erupted with the bridge to ‘Imagine’. She stabbed to disconnect. Her numb middle finger hit ‘speakerphone’ instead.
Without waiting a beat the voice blared at her – “Have you seen yet?? Have you heard?? I can’t login for another hour!! Finalists ONLY until 8am. WHAT’s HAPPENING???”
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Tuesday, July 31, 2012
11:58 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
(Drabble contest entry - bookrix.com)
The boy stares at the eye as it stops seeing him. A frozen gaze that freezes the moment. He holds his breath by instinct. The weight seems to grow in his hand. His other drops the slingshot to the grass below. He feels a slight tap on his sneaker. A single red drop spreads to a stain on his shoelace.
I did this.
A twitch in his palm; a rustle of feathers. The dove jerks and rolls over. Will it fly? A nail scratches his wrist, drawing a drop of his own.
A noise closes from behind. “Good shot, son!"
11:51 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
(Drabble contest entry, bookrix.com)
The bathroom door ajar. Slowly he crosses the threshold. Only the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. Odd shadows behind the shower curtain. He pulls it aside. A smear of blood down the tile to the body of his wife. Throat slashed. She’d threatened it - she’d ruin him at any cost.
But how? He stumbles back to the bedroom; an overwhelming need for a drink. Frantic for the hidden bottle, he throws open the sock drawer. Cash missing. Reaching deep, his hand hits something cold and wet. He lifts a bloody knife.
It’s not mine!
“Freeze! Police!”
11:48 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
(Drabble contest entry - bookrix.com)
Dirt and sky. She looks up as the shadow passes. Her whole life has been a shadow. Now the late afternoon sun returns as a delayed rain pelts her forehead.
The devil’s beating his wife.
“Well, now he’s got someone
else to beat,” she says bitterly. “
This devil’s done with his beatings. I’m free.”
The rain hardens, threatening hail. The trickle down her arm creates a streak of brown between her fingers. She opens her palm and stares at the wettened soil. She lets the rain wash it into the gaping maw before her. Splatters thump the plain casket below.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
3:42 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
The blurred light grew. The man felt his eyelid open slowly, tentatively. He was floating - on what he could not be sure. Something below and within stirred, expanding. A sound - a slow wind - sounded around him. 'Within' continued to rise. A soft click murmured and 'within' began to deflate.
It's my body…
The man listened keenly to the sound of, what, exactly? Air - flowing from his lungs. It seemed to go on forever. Then, another soft click. 'Within' began to rise, again.
I'm alive… Why?
Why wouldn't you be?
Because, I…
The man searched for an answer. None came. And it didn't come ever… so… slowly. Each click echoed down a long tunnel to his mind's ear. Each moment rushed and lingered for an eternity at the same time.
Where am I?
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Sunday, January 22, 2012
6:39 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Book Reviews
,
Life etc.
On the passing of J. Keith Miller...
Keith Miller has been tapping energy for 60 years. Today he tapped into the mother lode. He went
Home this afternoon at the age of 84 in the arms of his wife, Andrea, and at the insistence of an enemy - pancreatic cancer. He died faithful, and in the only kind of faith he believed worthy -
Expectant. He pursued a surrendered life with a maddening obsession at times. He expected God to meet him when he did. He chased after God passionately, sloppily, even in anger. And he journaled his failures. Later in my own life, I came to understand how merciful God is to
me by watching Keith crawl back to the foot of the cross after some spectacular personal crises. Expectant faith is desperate. It was the only kind he ever seemed to live. It is the only kind that matters. When it came to surrender, Keith was adamant and unrepentant. It shows in his final blog entries.
Once upon a time, Keith drilled the earth of Texas and Oklahoma looking for his meaning as a man. As an unsettled, lonely and driven member of the 'Greatest Generation' he doggedly pursued wealth and the American dream across the American South as an entrepreneur in Oil Exploration. He worked for the biggest names in Energy and launched a number of successful related businesses.
By the late 50s, he was on his way to the top. And he found it profoundly meaningless...
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Monday, September 19, 2011
9:21 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
- Bookrix 2012 Flash Fiction 3rd Place Award!
- NPR Weekend Edition "Three Minute Fiction" Submission, Round 7 -
(Prompt: Submissions must have a character come to town and someone leave town. Each piece of writing has to be read in less than three minutes, so no longer than 600 words.
More info at:
http://www.npr.org/series/105660765/three-minute-fiction)
Here's a link to the NPR Round 7 Winners program:
http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=142264396&m=1422750433
**************************
“Jack, did you say?
You're probably asking for me. John Wilson. Right there – line
number 7. What's that? No, sorry, don't know him. Not personally,
anyway. He disappeared about 6 months ago, from what I've heard. The
same day I arrived in town, as a matter of fact.
“I look a lot like him?
Yeah, I get that a lot. That gets pretty annoying sometimes, let me
tell you! By all accounts he was a loser. How do I know? I looked
into it a bit. He had the same dead-end job for 25 years. Nervous,
hypertensive type. Didn't have many friends. And those he did have
were anchored to the same row of barstools every night.
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Sunday, September 11, 2011
7:27 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
,
Poetry
Pillars of Smoke and Fire
Unprepared sacrifices seized
Thrown on raging altars
An offering undemanded
Souls unwilling hurled Heavenward
Our Standard and Shield
Pierced by fresh transgression
The perimeter torn and ragged
A fiery incursion
The general's tent aflame
The Union soil bereft
Bears the final hammer blow
Travelers in a moment warriors
Stop assaults at rolling ramparts
The wound a field of heroes
A battleground around, within
Nowhere to turn from sorrow
A 'we' deformed, defined by mourning
A generation born of widows
Ten years witness - still the silence thunders
Monday, August 29, 2011
3:09 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Short Stories
The flesh under the hole in Akil’s shirt was burning. Literally. He rolled to the ground to smother the phosphorus ember. He ripped off the night-vision goggles and blinked hard from the flash and now the total darkness.
“Ten, Akil. You have ten seconds. Get to the trigger.”
The voice crackled in his right ear. The one that could still hear. He still couldn’t see.
“Eight... Seven...”
Akil could make out a green blur next to his face. The goggles were blinking back to life. He grabbed them and held them to his face with his bleeding left hand. He swung up his head to see the green blaze of gases still heating the atmosphere around him.
“Six...”
There. The trigger. The switch to end it all. Still mounted on the fake mailbox. One of seven placed among the districts of Gaza and the West Bank. Yawm al-Qiyāmah has come. Al Dajaal almost deceived them all. The self-proclaimed peacemaker had united Palestine. Made Peace with the infidel. And what did it bring? This. Surely he had to die. It had been spectacular. The Sons of Mercy had dealt the blow as the devil signed away their destiny. His blood for the blood his pen would spill. Alas, it mingled with the blood of the Israeli devil. One bullet; two hearts. Not intended, but a fitting end to the both of them.
“Five...”
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Wednesday, August 24, 2011
1:25 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Book Reviews
"Doom am I, full-ripe, dealing death to the worlds, engaged in devouring mankind." Lord Krishna
For two cycles now, Katniss Everdeen has stared straight into the maw of death… and let it consume her. There's only a shell left, yet this irrepressible teen has become immortal by becoming the dealer of death. "I’m running on hate. When the energy for that ebbs, I’ll be worthless," she groans. At first she had to kill to survive. Now she must hate and kill to survive. What kind of survival is this? It's not. And to think, all she ever wanted was to settle down and spend her years angst-ing over which high school crush to marry. Well, dear soul-weary reader, if you've persevered with her this far (and millions have) there's no choice but to see her through until she flames out and rises from the ashes.
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Saturday, August 13, 2011
12:00 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
,
Poetry
Today my new morning dawns
I am alive to see it.
A hazy white above
A summer's burn below
Wisps of coffee steam
Now rise within my grasp
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Tuesday, June 7, 2011
10:21 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Book Reviews
Katniss Everdeen has a problem. Everyone who admires her wants her dead. Everyone who loves her soon will be. So what's a girl to do? Fight like Hell. It's all fatalist frustration, because she just can't seem to die. And it's not for lack of trying. She's determined to see her one and almost love survive another round of sporting mayhem if it kills her. Unfortunately, it doesn't.
The Hunger Games have become the Hungrier Games. The unprecedented happens. The victors of previous Hunger Games must square off to appease the Hunger Gods one more time as they luxuriate in their plush vomitoriums. They're getting dyspeptic and a tickling feather won't help. Rebellion is ravaging the slave districts like a cruise ship virus. And it's putting a dent in the Capitol's menu. Used to satiating every gluttonous pang, the grumbling of a million starving bellies has become an annoyance that surround sound and 3d special effects can't drone out.
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Monday, May 16, 2011
12:45 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Book Reviews
,
Life etc.
Welcome to the Heart of Darkness. Only this darkness has no heart. It's lit with high-watt tungsten - camera ready. It comes with a cast of thousands, and thousands more to do their hair, nails and wardrobe. Live from the Capitol! It's Running Man 24/7 on every network!! You can't miss it! By law you may not avert your eyes. Let the killing of children begin! Better yet - we'll have the children do the killing!!
The most sinister Stephen King novels are set in broad daylight. The Twilight Zone episodes that linger in your mind for years were more 'zone' than 'twilight.' So it is with
The Hunger Games. Yet this is no allegory or cautionary tale - at least not in a way accessible to young minds. In the adrenaline-doused diary of Katniss Everdeen, it's a present progressive universe. More unrelenting than urgent. We're stuck in the unending infinitive. How else is a teen girl to document her own demise? the world she observes is all objects to her gerunds. She's 16 years old and there's nothing sweet about it. It's all acid, bile, blood and burning. She's the noble savage and coy flirt. Sounds a lot like High School. The only relief is a twitching retreat into your own troubled dreams.
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Saturday, April 23, 2011
2:19 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
,
Ministry
,
Short Stories
The man pushed up against the nail as long as he could stand the pain, pressing the palm of his foot more firmly into the splinters of rough wood behind it. His calves burned. God how they burned. His chest leapt to force in the air one last time before collapsing along with his knees. The burning began anew in his wrists.
Why??
*****
“Where’s Joshua?” His mother asked, handing the sack filled with lunch to her husband.
“Down at the shop. Why?”
Joseph stooped to grab the sack and sneak a peck on Mary’s cheek.
“You left him there with your tools out? He’s seven years old!” There was a little alarm and scolding in her voice.
“Really? You’re worried? Has he ever climbed up and grabbed a tool without permission? Come, woman. Your son’s practically Noah in his obedience. He’s in one of those trances of his, anyway, studying something new on the bench.”
“What is it this time?” She asked.
“A nail,” he replied. “The Legate wants that Roman-style table done by Shabbat.” Most of his work was done the traditional way, but this official wanted his table built in the Roman way, slammed together with iron pins. They had fascinated Joshua. Perhaps he’d never seen them before.
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Friday, April 22, 2011
10:04 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
,
Ministry
"...always be in a state of readiness to be surprised by God. Why not, since He is everywhere, and our inability to see Him is more a factor of our not seeking Him than anything?"
John Fischer
"Then Jesus said "When you should be exalting Me, you will 'lift Me up' instead. Only then will your hearts be pricked enough to admit that I am the One; that I do nothing out of selfish ambition; that I simply brought the God-breathed Truth to you."
John 8:28 TDG
God's intention, plan and action are always genuine surprises. Is it any wonder? He is so unlike us in so many fundamental ways. Yet His surprises are always
good . Not of the 'pleasant happenstance' kind - but rather of the world-shattering, foundation-shifting, terrible, heart-crushing, beautiful
holy sort.
On Good Friday God executed judgment on Sin once for all, meting out on His own flesh the penalty of all. He experienced death. He became fully human. With all its loneliness, guilt, shame and despair.
Once.
And forever.
Surprising, isn't it?
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
2:51 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Book Reviews
,
Movie Reviews
Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here...
On first read, 'The Road' is all ending with no beginning. The world has long since descended into madness. Nature has abdicated. Abbadon has cleaned the table and cashed in his chips. The universe has shrunk to the flickering flame of one father and his only son. Unable to separate his identity from his only remaining responsibility, The man sets off to the South and his rendezvous with oblivion. As long as he moves the long scythe cannot take its final swing. Yet he knows he must prepare his son for the inevitable, one bleeding cough at time. Their language is sparse, poetry, but only of the free verse kind. It's the visual language of full-faced tenderness that is the world's final sonnet. They profess love till there is no breath left to bear the words. We've reached the endless sea.
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Sunday, August 29, 2010
9:29 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
This is just too fine a piece to not reprint:
Islamophobic America?
Gary M. Burge, Ph.D., Professor of New Testament, Wheaton College.
Evangelicals for Middle East Understanding (EMEU) Advisory Board
Are we all becoming – as Time Magazine suggests (Aug 30, 2010) – Islamophobic? According to one of their recent polls, 46% of us believe that Islam is more likely than other faiths to inspire violence against nonbelievers. 34% of us don’t want a Mosque in the neighborhood. According to an August 19 Washington Post poll, 30% of conservative Republicans who dislike Obama claim that he is a Muslim. Is “Muslim” the new political slur?
I’ve just returned from two Muslim countries in the Middle East. And as exposure goes, I’ve probably worked alongside more Muslims than I ever expected I would. I’m in the Middle East at least once each year, usually visiting multiple countries. I belong to an “Evangelical-Muslim” discussion group which meets annually and hosts 30 scholars from each side for 3 days of interfaith discussion. These are pious, brilliant, generous Muslim scholars whom I count as my friends. And when a topic like “Islamophobic America” comes up, I share intense personal emails with them.
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Wednesday, August 4, 2010
12:15 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Book Reviews
,
Movie Reviews
This movie has been savaged by the well-meaning and those who don't know well
what they mean.
What are 'the Lovely Bones?' Ah, now the answer to that will take a fair viewing to sort out. And the closing paragraphs from the lips of Susie Salmon will mean nothing to the viewer without the story that precedes it.
What of all the talk of Heaven? There is no Heaven here - just the longing for one. We peek over the rim from Neverland at the very end, but since we're not supposed to go there, we're not allowed more than a glaring obscurity. Some criticize the imagination of Peter Jackson for bringing us a techno-color CandyLand, all sugary sweetness and no nourishment. But that complaint completely misses his genius. This is Susie Salmon's time of bright shadows, not Peter's. Ripped from a world of polyester, psychedelic daisies and David Cassidy posters, we're entering a very different inner world than
our 'today.' It's one of a 14-year-old young lady of the 1970s. It is groovy and timeless. Yet the horrors that preceded it bust in with alarming rudeness proving this is no Nirvana. Just when we've grown accustomed to this playground and think it will resolve, it crumbles to dust. As it must. It was never meant to be something of substance. Susie's looking glass is the quick blog of a soul beginning a much larger adventure. A tweet from the unending song.
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Tuesday, June 1, 2010
1:57 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
,
TV
WWJD?
What Would Jack Do, that is. And that's what LOST comes down to.
The Finale was 'emotionally rewarding' to some and a 'total bust' to others. How can it be both? It depends on what you expected.
Most of us surmised all along that LOST was some kind of quasi purgatory. The Finale certainly confirmed that guess with a heavy dose of 'quasi.' Many presumed that the 'purgatory' theme meant that the series would eventually take on a more overt Christian bent, after wading through a morass of New Agey mysticism. But purgatory is not Christian theology and is found nowhere in the Scriptures. It was invented to gloss over the 'troubling' aspects of redemption doctrine and speak into those places the Logos chose to remain silent. The Gospel is indeed steeped in paradox. God as man and distinct from the Father and Spirit, for one. That God as Man could die, for another. That a virgin should give birth to the One who created her. That he who loves his life will lose it. It goes on and on. Some are stronger contrasts than others, yet the parlor of Christian faith is richly papered with them.
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Thursday, May 13, 2010
8:42 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 12 (Sunday, 11:30AM - La Grange, TX)
Somewhere outside San Antonio, a meeting takes place between a powerful businessman and his lieutenants. He expresses his anger at a 'situation' that is getting out of hand.
Simultaneously, Mitch seeks out the pastor and elders of the Living Way Church, asking them to pray over him. After a Sunday dinner at the pastor's house, prophecy is spoken and words of knowledge affirm Mitch's prayers for clarity and guidance. Mitch is translated during prayer and laying on of hands.
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Wednesday, May 12, 2010
8:40 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 11 (Sunday, 9:30AM - La Grange, TX)
After a makeshift breakfast, Mitch parts ways with the immigrants. He finds himself walking along another desolate stretch of highway. Dialogues with himself about what has been happening to him. Prays for understanding.
The road blends into the heartland Texas town of La Grand. Mitch steps into a Black pentecostal church for the service. The preaching is from Acts 8 and the story of Philip's 'translation' to meet the Eunuch along the Gaza road. The sermon convinces Mitch he's not crazy but he still feels lost.
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Tuesday, May 11, 2010
8:39 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 10 (Sunday, 2AM - Rio Grande, near Quintano, TX):
Mitch sees a group of illegal immigrants ready to cross the river. Another group prepares to ford the river, looking far more dangerous. Young, muscular and not speaking Spanish. Mitch tracks them after their coyote deposits them by the river. Soon one of the men is swept away by the current. Mitch instinctively rushes to rescue the man. He's stopped by the cries of another victim of the current - a young Mexican boy. Mitch has to make a choice. He ends up spending the night in a makeshift camp of the immigrants.
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Monday, May 10, 2010
8:37 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 9 (Saturday, 12AM - I35, Canyon West/South of Austin, TX):
Sylvia Colpoys was somewhere buying the finest pair of shoes she had ever seen. They fit marvelously. They flattered her legs. There was only one pair left. Best of all, they were on sale. It was a marvelous moment and it was being ruined by someone - her husband - jabbing her ribs with his elbow. Leave me alone, she thought. I haven't bought these yet.
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Sunday, May 9, 2010
8:27 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 8 (Saturday, 10PM - Oak River Fellowship Distribution Center, New Kassel, TX):
Mitch finds himself transported to the darkened warehouse of the relief ministry his wife used to administrate. A security guard stumbles onto some sort of illegal activity and is abducted. Mitch sneaks into the departing truck and frees the captive at a weigh station. Mitch gives him the cash in his wallet and warns him to hide with his family for at least a week. Left alone on a dark stretch of highway, Mitch asks "Where next?"
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Saturday, May 8, 2010
8:26 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 7 (Saturday, 3:30PM - enroute to Canyon West, TX):
C.R. pulled out onto the feeder road and came to a halt at the temporary stop sign. The construction signalman waved him into a left turn over the half-completed bridge. Between the traffic, the construction, and the back end of a slow-moving train just clearing the nearby crossing, it took them five minutes just to get across the Interstate. By the time they were beginning to move again, Mitch had finished his lunch, crumpled up the sack and stuffed it on the floor below his seat. He couldn't remember feeling that hungry in a long time.
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Friday, May 7, 2010
8:25 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 6 (Saturday, 2:30PM - south of Austin, TX):
Jalapeno Hunger-Buster Meal Deal, $3.99. Today only...
It's what the sign said.
C.R. Colpoys was staring at it intensely - or maybe his eyes were just boring a hole right through the marquee into outer space somewhere. Mitch couldn't tell. He was pushing himself into a sitting position, rubbing the stiff out of his neck. He moved his hand to the dull pain in his left rib where the seat belt had just been removed. It was almost as throbbing as the top of his forehead, which he touched more tenderly.
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Thursday, May 6, 2010
8:23 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 5 (Saturday, 12:30PM - Canyon West, TX):
It was time to take a long, deep breath.
Mitch sat back hard on the ground and attempted that very thing. His lungs ached and his throat felt raw. He hadn't noticed either of these things till that moment. He lifted his head enough to see the devastation around him. It was black for a hundred yards around a crater that hadn't been there an hour ago. Two fire engines had doused all the flames. Only a few patches of smoldering grass suggested there had been fire. That and the charred smell which filled Mitch's nostrils. It wasn't a natural, campfire smell. It was oily; noxious; carbon.
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Wednesday, May 5, 2010
8:20 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 4 (Saturday, mid-day, Canyon West, TX):
The big truck lumbered its way up the caliche drive, through old iron gates, painted many times over the years and set on rough-cut limestone pediments. A narrow road wound around the cemetery leaving barely enough room for the double back axle to maneuver without displacing edge stones. Two hundred year old oaks stood separate from each other, shading the tough Texas turf in places. The oldest monuments stood in the center behind short wrought iron fences, large hand-chiseled engravings giving testament to the hard life and early deaths of settlers. Many of the dates went back to before the Civil War.
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Tuesday, May 4, 2010
8:18 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 3 (Saturday Morning - Rio Claro, TX):
Blanco County, 4am. Brian Cox reporting:
"A Hill Country woman narrowly escaped a fiery death early Saturday morning when her minivan was destroyed by a hit-and-run driver along a lonely stretch of US 181, just north of Lubach."
Mitch was suddenly feeling thirsty, even though he'd only walked two hundred yards. He stood next to his mailbox, tightly gripping the whole newspaper. A fly was up early, lazily buzzing around Mitch's left ear. He ignored it as it settled somewhere on his hat.
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Monday, May 3, 2010
9:53 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
,
Novel-Avenhal
Well, the Publishers Weekly review is finally up on my ABNA quarter-final entry "Avenhal-Return of the Taneen." I was (mildly) hoping for something quotable and useful for future jacket revisions. Since most authors don't choose to tout scathing reviews, Ill probably pass on quoting them.
But in the interest of full-disclosure, I'm posting it here, with a few comments of my own to follow. Don't worry - I won't flame them. They're doing their job, and they proved they read the entire manuscript.
*********************
ABNA Publisher Weekly Reviewer:
In a time of war, three siblings are sent to relatives in the country, where they discover a mysterious gate between worlds.
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8:17 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 2 (March, Friday Morning - Rio Claro, TX):
Mitch rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and headed to the small corner kitchen of the cabin. Without a curtain, the morning light was pouring through the window over the sink. The big square of sunshine was working its way from the center of the room back toward the old pine cabinets. Mitch squinted as he stepped through the glare over to the coffee maker. Other than the electric stove and half-size fridge, it was the only other modern convenience in this little Hill Country retreat. It was also the newest. It was less than a year old and positively gleamed in comparison to the tired stove, cookware and glasses. It was also programmable and gave Mitch the satisfaction of not having to wait. He poured half a cup of his favorite Sumatran blend, added a small amount of half-n-half and stepped out to the back porch.
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Sunday, May 2, 2010
6:32 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Chapter 1 (November, 2006 - New Kassel, Texas):
The woman had been staring at the computer screen for a long time. It was getting dark already and a gloom had descended on the office. It felt appropriate. Soon she would be expected home to finish putting food on the table.
A steely blue glow was beginning to reflect off the polished desk as the parking lot lights blinked on one by one. Sonja Blackman looked out the large bay of windows at the colorless form of her hybrid Toyota Camry sitting alone in the parking lot. She should leave right now, she knew. Still, she was drawn back to the screen trying to make the message mean something else.
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Saturday, May 1, 2010
3:27 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Novel-Translation
Prologue (June, 1995 - Monterrey, Mexico):
The day was clear and blue. Unusual for the normally dusty, urban skies of Monterrey. A cold front had pushed in all the way from the U.S., bringing with it crisp weather and taking away the haze of exhaust from cheap gasoline and open barrel fires. Things were changing fast in the early days of NAFTA, and with it came new wealth. But this was still Mexico. It seemed to be a constitutional right to burn your own trash. But not this late November day - too windy.
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10:32 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Movie Reviews
If yer lookin' for subtly, look on.
The movie starts with this quote from NYTimes correspondent Chris Hedges: "The rush of battle is a potent and often lethal addiction, for war is a drug." Wow! Did you get it? War is addictive! Not to waste time correcting any misconceptions, all other words fade to black other than "war is a drug." (linger... fade...)
Get it yet?
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Thursday, April 1, 2010
12:18 PM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Movie Reviews
I have great hopes for the future of Anne Hathaway's career. She needs a breakout role. This is not it.
I've seen the movie. My advice to you? Don't.
11:13 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
Now I just gotta pay the extra $20 to find out if I'm an INVENTOR, ARCHITECT, FIELDMARSHALL or MASTERMIND... (What? No option for "EVIL Mastermind?)
Take your own test at:
http://www.keirsey.com/sorter/register.aspx
Custom Keirsey Temperament Report for: Bram Floria
Your Keirsey Temperament Sorter Results indicates that your personality type is that of the RATIONAL.
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11:06 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
,
TV
5) There's 'Lost' 'Loster' and probably 'Lostest.'
4) NO one gets to die only once.
3) If it 'worked' it doesn't mean it worked.
2) Where there's smoke, there's murder.
1) Only WE can kill the gods.
11:05 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Poetry
I have not been this way before
I will not see the destination
I only follow
where I am led
he with face toward day
shoulder to the wind
I catch the light and shadow
the sweat the blood and dust
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Monday, March 1, 2010
11:04 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Poetry
(about like 20 years ago...)
Flit
Fly
Flutter
Float
Arrows dive
Fish meet sky
O'er the rushing bows of boats
Friday, January 15, 2010
11:46 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Humor
,
Life etc.
,
Work
I'm a Consultant. I charge what I'm worth... then add 300%.
I'm a Lawyer. I speak a language you'll never understand, and I charge $300 an hour to translate it for you - and you still won't know what I'm saying.
I'm a Pastor. I'm highly-trained to mystify God's plain text.
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Monday, December 28, 2009
11:38 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Humor
,
Life etc.
,
Work
No, seriously - I'm looking into it. Open to suggestions, so long as I get to copyright them! Here's the start list:
**************************************
Oh, you're still here.... Why is that?
Please, stop, now... Shirt can only absorb so much meaningless blather...
Can't we all just get along?
Apparently not...
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Friday, December 25, 2009
11:09 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
So, we can say with confidence: God the Word dressed Himself in a body just like ours and lived with us, walking our streets and eating our food. And even clothed in flesh there was no mistaking His powerful authority. It was just as the written Word told us it would be - the magnificent Son of our Heavenly Father right here among us, full of the truth that transforms and the powerful riches of God which He gladly bestowed on anyone who asked. (John 1:14)
Sunday, September 6, 2009
11:14 AM
By
crosswaysnet
,
In
Life etc.
...like Greg Hogan:
(My reply first)
Dear Pat,
To say I'm surprised and gratified by your email would be a gross understatement. My family and friends have gone to amazing lengths to share our faith adventure and needs with a tremendous array of faithful and praying people. Thank you, so much for the encouragement and support . My children are just as fascinated with your work and journey. We will all be praying for your mission and safety coming home. Feel free to let us know how we can specifically pray for you and your team.
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