Sample chapters of new young adult, un-edited, unpublished work titled "Swamp Song"

Chapter 1

Joseph Browning, fourteen years old, was born with a birth defect. His right leg was shorter than the other. Except for his right leg, he was much a normal, average boy with light brown hair and freckles under his eyes, but only a few freckles. He did, however, have an advantage over the other children. He was stronger. His father personally gave him physical therapy, to strengthen his legs and arms.

His parents moved from the Boston area to South Florida shortly after his birth. His father was a Marine Recruiter. His mother stayed at home and wrote novels. She was a beginning author with only one book published. Both his parents were orphans.

Until he was of school age, like all the children his age who lived in his neighborhood, he went to the playground often with his mother after his father left for work.

He was different, that he knew, but in spite of his limp, he kept up playing with other children. The curious playground stares, here and there, he got used to. But all that changed when he began attending school where being teased was more commonplace and senseless. He became a loner, refusing to make friends for fear they would eventually side with those who teased him.

When in the sixth grade, middle school, a clique of four boys daily teased him to no end. They nicknamed him Hop-a-Long Joe. You know the kind. Every school has them. They’re called bullies.

Because he was being made fun of so often, he hated going to school. It affected his studies. Although he was smarter than most of the other students, he got poorer grades. He was failing his subjects because he did not care anymore.

Imagine if it were you who was picked on because you were handicapped or different; fat, skinny, shy, dress or speak differently, poor, rich, too smart, to mention just some. How would you handle being just like him, always picked on? I bet you would not like it one bit.

During his sixth grade year tragedy struck unexpectedly. He was at home with a babysitter when a deputy sheriff and two social workers knocked on his door. They came to tell him his mother and father died in a horrific car accident driving home from a book signing. Because there were no family members to care for him, the social workers put him in a county orphanage. It was at that orphanage that he was given the name Joey, by other orphans. Even there, he was teased and bullied.

Although not necessary true, he thought he would never be adopted. After all, what couple wanted an older child with a limp when perfectly healthy, younger children were available, he sadly thought.

After spending two years at the orphanage, he decided it was time to leave. So, one night during the month of April after everyone was asleep, he opened the library window and crawled through with thoughts of never returning.

He had chosen the month of April because the cooler temperature season was over by then. Even in Florida, the winter season temperatures get pretty cool at night.
He left taking only the clothes on his back, the baseball cap on his head and a pillowcase stuffed with: Boy Scout’s manual, couple changes of clothes, one blanket, toothpaste and brush, soap, baggie full of book matches and an orphanage issued mosquito net. In his jeans pocket was a Boy Scout knife. He had no money.

* * *

It was early morning, just breaking daylight, as he reached a water canal that followed a highway. On the opposite side was the edge of a swamp. He was hungry and it was beginning to sprinkle rain, a sun shower. The only cover from the rain was in the swamp amongst its thick bushes and trees.

It will be dangerous and difficult entering the swamp, but living in one was what he had planned to do. So now that he found one, he had no intentions of turning back. But first, he had to cross the canal, too wide to leap over.

The highway was behind him. Cars sped by at seventy miles per hour, some faster. The sound of tires rushing over pavement hummed in his ears, and each car’s back draft pushed hard against him, almost knocking him down. Standing there was getting scary-dangerous, he thought.

He quickly studied the area. Nearby was a giant tree with branches that almost reached across the canal. He decided to climb it and leap to the other side. The branches went high up, but he thought it could be done, even for him who had a shorter leg.

He was getting wet. So wasting no time, he went to the tree. Then, from under it, he tossed the stuffed pillowcase across the canal. It landed safely.

The first of the branches hung low to the ground. He easily got up on it, then to the next, until he was on one stretching way out. It was large and looked strong. To check its strength, he stood tall and bounced while holding tightly onto a branch just over his head.

“Yes. I can do it,” he bragged, saddled the branch and began slowly shimmying his way across. At about midway, he looked down. It was a long drop to the mucky water. Floating by at a slow drift was a lot of algae. It smelled sewer-like-awful.

Then he saw it. An alligator was right under him with only its head showing above the water. Its bulging eyes stared up, looking right at him, waiting for him to fall. At first, he had thought it was a log.

He tightened his grip on the branch’s trunk and rested his chest on it. Nervous, he waited for the gator to go away, but it lingered, circling. It made him think of the crocodile in the story of Peter Pan, only this gator did not have a clock in its stomach, of course.

He could not wait any longer, he thought, so he began crawling along the branch while trying his best to avoid any nearby branches that might knock him off, stopping every little bit to peek at the gator.

When he got to where a large branch was in his way, he began climbing over it. He slipped, not realizing it was slimy-slippery, and managed to grab the branch with his arms. He was left dangling with the trunk of the branch across his chest, under his armpits. He peeked over his shoulder at his feet. They were well above the water, dangling. The gator was still there, still circling. He was too scared to move. It began to pour rain.

Realizing he had to get back onto the branch, or else he would fall and end up being the gators next meal, he took a deep breath and pulled himself up until he got his leg, knee first, up over the branch. He sat up and saddled the branch, and he broke a smile when he saw that he would not have to climb over the slippery branch again. Somehow, he ended up on the other side.

He began shimmying until he got to where the limb began to sag from his weight. He looked down. The gator was still there. He looked ahead. The ground was a long leap away and sandy. He decided to give it a try.

He slowly stood, as best he could. There was not much of an opening between branches. He looked down again. The gator was still there, still circling. Only now, it had its jaw wide opened, waiting to catch him. He felt a lump in his throat and his left leg shook. It was a scary moment, for sure.

He took a deep breath in. It was now or never. “One,” he began to count. “Two - three,” he continued and leaned forward. He did not jump. His left leg nervously shook too much. He sat back down. Just then, thunder rumble across the sky, and water began flowing off the brim of his cap. He was soaked wet. He stood. Rain drops were getting in his eyes. “One – two - three,” he counted and leaped.

His shoulder nipped the end of another branch as he went through the opening. He did not think he was going to make it. Already the gator was repositioning itself closer to the edge of the canal. It opened its mouth, again, just as he landed hard. But he landed short, only halfway up the sandy slope. Right away, he began to slide down towards the waiting, hungry gator.

Fortunately for him, a root was protruding out of the slope. He grabbed it and stopped his slide. He glanced over his shoulder. His feet were only a few feet from the water, and the gator was coming fast. Like a dog would do, on all fours, he quickly wobbled his way to the top, kicking up sand and small stones that trickled down into the water, splashing. It was that close.

He lay still for a moment, then stood. His shorter leg’s ankle hurt but not too sore to not be able to continue. But first, he looked onto the water. Its hoped-for-meal, Joey, now safely across the canal, the gator was swimming away.

He cracked a smile, proudly, because he had made the leap safely, barely. Then he picked up his stuffed pillowcase, threw it onto his shoulder and entered the swamp, trying his best to stay on dry ground. Right away, his sneakers got muddy.

To his surprise the growth was denser than he had expected it to be. The going was difficult. Each time he’d looked up, he did not see the sky. Worse, it was still pouring rain and the thunder was louder than it had been.

His journey into a whole new world was just beginning. There will be no one in the swamp, for sure, who will call him names, Hop-a-Long Joey or the likes. Being alone was the way he wanted it to be, him and the elements of nature – some good, some bad.

* * *

The swamp Joey was in was a large Still water Swamp made up of wetlands, trees, shrubs, saturated soil and standing water. Running through parts of it were a few black water creeks. Scattered throughout it were hundreds of small dry land islands that during long rainy spells got saturated with water. The bordering areas surrounding it were densely covered with shrubs and cabbage palms. Deeper in was the dark, dangerous, mucky swamp with mostly cypress trees. On the dryer island areas were more shrubs, swamp dogwood brush and cabbage palms, but also growing amongst them were many taller trees; such as, slash and pond pines, melaleuca trees, and an occasional giant black gum tree. Thick growth of vines and ferns of many types smothered the scrubs and trees. Some of the trees and brush were completely covered to the ground with the vines and ferns.

Along the banks of the black water creeks were banana trees, mango trees, palm trees, palm scrubs, and dense brush. In some spots there were large collections of orchids growing on trees, including many beautiful, white ghost orchids.

Also, many types of animal, insect and bird life lived in the swamp; such as, minks, deer, skunks, frogs, squirrels, panthers, ducks, ibis, hawks, owls, moccasins, black swamp snakes, rattlesnakes, crustaceans, leeches, mosquitoes and lots of alligators, to name some. In large ponds located deep into the swamp were assortments of fish.


Chapter 2

Once he was deeper into the swamp, to a couple patches of higher dry land, he stopped to look for something to build a shelter with, anything.

He found plenty of large plants with large elephant-ear-like-leaves. He took his scout knife out of his pocket and went to the one closest and began cutting away, low nearer the ground, leaving their long stems on.

It was slow going. The knife was sharp but small. He snapped off some of the leaves after he cut halfway through their stems. He placed the first few he cut over his stuffed pillowcase, to keep it dry.

After he cut a high pile of leaves, he hunted along the ground for long, dead branches. When there were enough branches, he trimmed them. After that, he cut vines into short pieces, about shoelace long. Then, at about his shoulder height, he stretched one branch across between side by side trees that were about six feet apart. He tied each end to the trees using the vines as string. The remaining branches he placed equally spaced at an angle from the ground to the across-branch. He tied each top end to the across-branch. Then he overlapped the leaves over the top of the branches and used vines to tie them down, forming a roof. Done, it was a lean-to. He got the idea from his Boy Scout Manual.

It was nearing dawn, and mosquitoes began gathering. What he could see of the sky was gray with black clouds. The rain was now just a drizzle. Starving and soaked, through and through, he left his campsite to look for something to eat, anything.

Shortly after, he came upon a stand of wild growing banana trees. The bananas were small. He climbed up one and picked a handful. He was so hungry he ate one before he climbed down.

As he left, he took a long look around. In the immediate area were mango and coconut trees loaded with fruit. He decided he would come back the next morning for some. It was getting too dark to hang around. Already, he was beginning to hear a lot of strange noises, the beginning of the swamp’s night sounds, some very frightening sounding, to say the least.

At his campsite, he uncovered the stuffed pillowcase, took out a change of clothes, tucked the pillowcase into a corner of the lean-to and took the blanket and scout book out, all the while waving away mosquitoes. Then, he fluffed the stuffed pillowcase as he did to his pillow every night before going to sleep. After he changed clothing, he hung up his wet clothes and cap, from the roof of the lean-to.

He wanted to light a fire, but the deadwood was too wet. He ate another banana, and then he hung his mosquito net from the ceiling, crawled under it and tossed the blanket over himself, up over his shoulder, all the way to his chin. He rested his head on the stuffed pillowcase.

It was very dark and noisy, scary noisy. Even later, when it started to pour rain, the noises seemed to get louder. The crickets and frogs were the worse, deafening louder than anything else. That was until loud thunder rumbled overhead, like a marching column of base drums. Its warning lightning flashes were like a zillion camera flashbulbs going off all at once, brightening the surrounding area. It was really, REALLY, scary. It was an awesome kind of scary, though.

After the storm calmed to just a light drizzle and quicker flashes of lightning barely lit the area, thunder a distant faint, he began to see images with each flash – strange and wild things.

With more than one occasional flash of light, he thought he saw long snakes hanging, curled up, from nearby tree branches. Their staring-at-him-eyes appeared to sparkle with each burst of light, as their slivering tongues hung out, and a quiet hissing sound whispered in his ears. Then, from out of nowhere, a loud screaming, “ARK – ARK,” sound filled the air.

He sat up at the first blast from the strange bird, or just maybe it was a creature of sorts or a ghost. It screamed again and again and again, for what seemed like forever bellowing. He was imagining all worst things.

Then, suddenly, he saw something very odd, and the strange sounds had stopped. It was high over the ground, not very far away. Whatever it was, it glowed brightly. He stared, blinking, but he couldn't make out what it was, except he thought he saw large white wings protruding from it, but there was too much brightness surrounding whatever it was, to be sure what it was. A ghost, he suddenly thought, as it flashed close past him at a fast speed, a blur. And as quick as it had appeared, it was gone, and the strange, scary sounds began again.

It took a long while, but he got used to the sounds and images, including the buzzing coming from the mosquitoes around his netting. He had to get use to the sounds. There was nowhere else to go.

He lay down, curved-up and covered his head with his blanket. But no way was he going to get much sleep, not on this first night alone in a swamp. What with: alligators, crickets, frogs, snakes, night birds, winds whistling through trees, creaking sounds, and total darkness blanketing the area, would anyone have.

From under his blanket, the noises outside sounded different. He cleared his mind of all other thoughts, including the strange bright flying object he saw. Then, oddly enough, the sounds outside began to have a rhythmic beat – a swamp song.
Yes, as long as he thought of it that way, it wasn’t as though he was surrounded by anything that might hurt him, or ghosts.

Imagining his mother was singing to him a lullaby, he finally fell asleep.

The Christ Trilogy Updates

I feel like celebrating, and why? I finished book three "The Forever Christ: Birth of a New Word. Well! All but the editing, but I feel good about it. Too be honest, it took awhile to write; longer than did either of the other two. So, anyway, now I can dedicate more time to book signings and promoting all three works.

Response, so far, to book one "The Lost Christ: The New Beginning" has been very good; with lots of responses as to: "When are book two and three being published. I can't wait to read them." Also, book one was rated with 5-stars by JT Cooper, book reviewer for Funseekers Radio Network out of Georgia. Of course, I'll make sure he gets copies of book two and three when released!
Like most the responses, Mr Cooper ended his review of "The Lost Christ" with: The action and story line are well written and the concept should not be offensive to most Christians. You won't get bored reading this first book of a proposed Trilogy, but you might become impatient waiting for the next two books in the series.

For you FaceBookers -- I started a book club and it's open for anyone to join by searching exactly: Mr Mike's "Christ Trilogy Book Club" I keep it updated and welcome comments. So join and let me know what you think, or ask me anything about the books. You're also welcomed to request me as a friend and post on my wall.

BookExpo America, at Jacob Javits Convention Center, was a success. Besides getting to go to New Your City, I got to meet many of my fellow authors, and my publisher, sterlinghousepublisher.com were great hosts. We gave a lot of autographed books away. Some, I've noticed, selling on Amazon.com for more than double the cover price.
Remember, You can order "The Lost Christ" at SterlingHouse Publishers -- And if your a member of my book club, if you ask, they will give a discount of 20%. Another good reason to join my book club on FaceBook.

UPCOMING BEA SHOW

Well it's almost that time, a time when once a year authors, publishers, attendees and the likes all get together at the largest book show in America: The Book Expo America - May 29, 30, 31. And this year it's booked "leaner, meaner----and with more authors than ever."

So I've got my plane reservation, my bag half packed and my anxiety rising. It'll be my first show of its kind and this year it's back at New York City in the Javits Center. With me, and being premiered at the SterlingHouse Publisher booth #4015 will be my fellow Hot New Authors: Rob Santoro - Wrath; Mike Balkind - Dead Ball; Kevin Cooke - The Pact of the Stone, Part One: The Quest of Cheyenne; Karen Bence - Midnight Revelations; Anthony Horan - The Big Scare; Jerry Banks - The Second District.

All seven of us are featured on the cover of the May 18th issue of Publishers Weekly. So I can't wait to meet each and every one of them at the show. Of course I will be signing Advance Review Copies (ARC) of my novel The Lost Christ: The New Beginning and there will be plenty of give aways: bookmarks; T-shirts; bags; postcards; business cards; magnets.

Just a reminder: The release date of The Lost Christ is June 30th, but until then you can preorder my novel at a 20% discount at: SterlingHouse - Bookstore.com And while your there ordering The Lost Christ check out the above mentioned hot new authors latest releases.

Look for my blog in July and hear all about my experiences at the show, and watch for the soon to be released trailer The Christ Trilogy Book One - The Lost Christ: A New Beginning.

Thought Behind The Lost Christ and Naming of Characters.

When writing the novel The Lost Christ, the first of The Christ Trilogy, I gave a lot of thought in the naming of each character, and also of the environment in which they lived and were governed.

Being that, in the beginning of the novel, mankind was birth in test tubes and not named until later in their lifetime, I decided to fit each name to the character's personality. Therefore: the main character, Ardent, was named so because of his passion, devotion, high emotions and because he also showed great enthusiasm for the people close to him. Ardent's best friend, Jejune, was a bit dull, immature and lacking in insight. In the case of Ardent's pairing mate, Dank: known for his coldness of heart and the lack of fear. I believe that by doing this the reader could better understand each character without my having to get into a lengthy description of each when being introduced.

The environment was a different thing. Yes, it's of a time after earth is changed because of global warming, Carbonaceous Holocaust, and of a time two thousand years thereafter, but also of a time much like how it was when the settlers first came to America, a candlelight world where everyone lived in communes of log-cabin-like structures, ate their meals in community mealing areas, everyone dressed the same, and of a time when the government controlled their minds; of a time of no religion or God.

All of this was until a time capsule buried during the 21st century was found, within was a Tanakh (Torah) and a New Testament Bible..... And that, pretty much, is how my novel begins; with the discovery of religion. Then came the re-birth of Christ: The Lost Christ, forgotten for two thousand years..... Now imagine what might happen, or better yet: read the novel and let your mind enter a world of what if...... Pre-order at sterlinghouse-bookstore.com before the June 30th release date and receive a 20% discount.

The Introduction to The Lost Christ

First imagine_____ it’s later in the 21st century and at a time when mankind finally blew it---- carbon pollution that led to climate warming and the violent winds, earthquakes and tsunamis that followed. And with the oceans rising the cities and lower lands perished, becoming a new ocean’s floor. A time when millions….. No, when billions of animal, plant and human life was lost, extinct……….

Then imagine____ its 2000 years later, a new world---- the seven continents are a maze of islands, each continent a country, the memory of the 21st century and before wiped from mankind’s mind….. No carbon polluters of any kind…… A candlelight world……. A world that is somewhat like it was in the 15th century---- and a world with no religion -- no God……..

And then imagine____ a new mankind, Formed In a Test Tube mankind, a FITT. No romances, just pre-arranged, platonic, same sex civil union ---- Pairings. Their names fit their personality or profession to be. Everyone is dressed the same and living in communes. No wireless communications, only hand delivered messages. The only weapons…… Are repeater rifles and sidearm’s, and only in the hands of the policing forces. The seven New World Governments thought it a utopia world…… But was it?

Now imagine____ what would happen if three educators would happen across a buried time capsule from the 21st century, and inside was a veritable treasure of photographs, newspaper articles, reference books, a Tanakh (written Torah) and a New Testament (Christian bible.)
The educators, confused, not knowing what to make of the two religious books---- hand scribed onto scrolls all of what was the same, and then added the differences…… One Holy Scroll____ and yes, one new belief emerged. Thus, a new underground society was born---- Pariah’s, was what the government councils named the neophytes…… Enemies with a belief defying the social law could threaten all seven of the New World Government’s existences. The movement had to be stopped and the governments would do anything to do so, no matter the cost in human life.

Mankind, for the first time in twenty centuries, was learning the meaning of new words. Words like---- “Love” - “Marriage” – “Childbirth” – “Family” and “God”---- But with the discovery will come another word---- “WAR”

How does a restaurant owner write a fictional religious novel?

For thirty years, 70 plus hours a week, I toiled through a kitchen, a lounge, a dining room or banged my head together doing the books, writing checks, listening to employee problems. Then one day, like so many in the food service business do, I burned out. Well, I guess it really came on slow… But, in all, I was cooked and needed to get away. Fortunately I have a son and daughter-in-law who years earlier both took interest in the business, permitted to seat 280 diners; a lot of meals to serve. So he got the keys and headaches and I got to move to Florida and play golf often, like 4 times a week. Of course that got boring, well, sort of. Then a week of vacation in Blowing Rock, North Carolina…. A dream sent. We loved it and bought a small second home on an acre of land in the woods, aside a steep hill. No scenic view but a beautiful, comfortable place. I was good; retire and spend the winters in Florida and the summers in the Blue Ridge Mountains, I thought.

However, months before spending our first summer there I started writing a novel; a romance, murder mystery. It sat dormant in my computer for months after I completed the work. Finally I sent a manuscript, only one, to SterlingHouse Publisher. Months later, I received a nice written note – thanks, but no thanks note. The stubborn Italian American that I am was just finishing another novel; later named The Lost Christ; book one of a trilogy. With the nicely written note, with a name on it, in one hand and the new manuscript in the other, I decided to mail the manuscript to her attention. My only other choice was to just give up, the hell with it.

A week later, and a shocking surprise, I heard from SterlingHouse Publisher; from Jennifer. They wanted to talk more, wanted to know about the other two novels. Dr. Cynthia Sterling was great, so much so, I researched her on-line and bought her and Megan Davidson’s book “Novel Writing Bluebook” from which I began learning to write, I believe better with each book of the trilogy.

Now it’s the waiting, the period that comes after the work is completed but the publishing date still months away. The period of thoughts running through your mind; of will the covers be eye catching, of will the reviews be good, of will it sell, of how can I help promote it, and on, and on, the thoughts keep coming.

Soon my first real appearance before my peers is about to happen: The Book Expo America (BEA) to be held in New York City, at the Jacob K. Javits Center, May 29, 30, 31…… So look for me there at the SterlingHouse Booth #4015; right next to Publishers Weekly. Did you say you’re not going? Then look at my blog in July for a complete review of the BEA.