Hello Faithful Subscribers,
Thank you for your attention to my blog over the years. I hope you’ve enjoyed the vast array of topics I’ve written about, within the realm of both fiction and non-fiction. I know I’ve enjoyed your comments.
(Btw, I’m now taking literary requests and/or commissions.)
This brings me to the latest that all-things-flourishing has to offer: I’m on a new journey. I’m writing my first novel, a speculative-fiction called Salvador: Sophia’s Story. It’s about a thirteen-year-old girl, Sophia, who’s wavering with her faith. God-willing, through providential clues left behind by Salvador (her older brother, who’s Jesus in-disguise), Sophia will renew her Christian faith and stop Louis Cipher (Lucifer) from changing his hellish fate by rearranging the signs of the Zodiac, putting the constellation of Draco “the Dragon” above “God’s stars” (see Isaiah 14:13-14).
I’m currently about 100 pages deep. I plan on finishing it by the end of the summer. And then comes the hard part–proofreading, editing, rewriting, editing, finding a literary agent, and finally finding a publisher who believes in the vision of the book.
Your prayers during this stressful endeavor are warmly appreciated.
I leave you with the Prologue to Salvador. Enjoy!
P R O L O G U E
The gluttonous full moon shines a wide-angle lens at the ocean’s curvy body below. Warm, salty hips give birth to an El Niño storm. Behemoth waves, ranging from 45 to 77 ft, create a tsunami swell for fearless surfers destined to die as divas of adrenaline or be caught on camera as the next surf legends.
Today, the Sabbath day, the moon is in the closest proximity to the earth since the Middle Ages. Lunar tides cause the greatest surfable waves this planet has ever known.
The sound-and-pound of surf reaches the multi-million-dollar homes on the Encinal Bluff in Malibu, California. One, in particular, was constructed with mystical powers to “hear” and “feel” what the ocean is doing and react accordingly. The louder and more intense the ocean, the more ominous and insidious the house. If a physical structure made of raw materials could be called eccentric and disturbed, it would be this one. Some call it a “haunted house” but it’s so much more. It’s a house that’s haunted, possessed by the greatest evil ever known.
Four marble pillars imported from the Temple of Aphrodite in Greece, standing forty-feet tall, hold up a four-tiered stilted glass mansion. The penthouse is the perfect place for a stellar observatory housing one of the largest optical telescopes on the planet with an effective aperture of 10 m in diameter rivaling that of Keck 1 and Keck 2 in Mauna Kea, Hawaii.
Just below the observatory lies an inner parapet made of ballistic-proof glass which holds the original paintings of some of the most celebrated postmodern artists. The sturdy glass wall separates a Baroque-style boardroom to the south from a private paranormal museum to the north. (It was rumored by a surreptitious security guard, who’s mysteriously disappeared, that the remains of an intelligent form of alien species remains submerged in a clear, circular tank filled with some sort of preserving liquid.) A cold, round stainless-steel vaulted door with a retinal scan door-lock invokes human emotion, fear mostly, serving as the entry way between these two worlds.
The floor of this third-story room—made of solid glass six-inches thick—makes for a fascinating porthole on which to stand and gawk down into a 1,200 ft3 saltwater fish tank (at nearly 9,000 gal), which takes up the entire second floor. A decorative reef serpentining from one side of the maze-like room to the other makes the perfect hiding place for a seventy-five-foot electric eel, which watches quietly with vigilant fish-eyed lenses three species of shark—Tiger, Bull and Great White—swim by obsessively searching for their next meal.
The bottom floor boasts of a decorative ballroom entertaining some of the world’s socio-political elites while a pair of intertwining sequoias proudly stand in the middle of the room with a spiraling staircase wrapped around them. The trees that stem from below the dancehall flow wildly through all three floors until its top branches drink in the sunlight.