The Chronicles (Spoilers Alert)

My wife informed me last night that one of my first readers and reviewers to give me five stars wanted to know when the next book was to arrive.  The first book of the chronicles is nearing completion.  For those that have read the trilogy, I want you to understand that those three stories took ten years.  I promised myself the next books would not take that long.  However, writing an interrelated series of books is difficult, especially when in the ending there will be 19 total stories.  To give readers of the trilogy a heads up on what is to follow, I first have to issue this spoiler alert.


As you recall, in the final battle between good and evil, Haggarfuse finds himself surrounded by the armies of the freed races, something he did not expect, nor should the reader.  I purposely did not create narrative so that their arrival on the 40th day of battle would be a huge surprise.  Did you know I gave hints throughout all books about the forty days of travel time to Mosiam? This explains why their aid did not arrive until the 40th and final day of battle.  Ah, you didn’t truly read the history of the first nine chapters, did you? Arimar had a dream as a boy of three doves turning to war eagles.  This is not referred to again until the first day of battle arrives and he sees three eagles head east, west, and north to send out the call for aid, which were the remaining three loyal Charafuse.  Even Arimar did not make the connection.  He and his followers, only 140,000 of them, believe they are about to face alone an army of four hundred million.  They are told only to make a stand.

The chronicles, especially the last 7 stories to come in the resistance series, will bring all the detailed history of Allivar and the relationship of Arimar’s line into focus, and the events that took place for the races to gather their strength and attack Haggarfuse. Go back and read those first nine chapters.  All of Arimar’s line was taken by the Unseen with a promise to be reunited at a given time. When they combine their powers with Arimar’s, they become invincible and reunited force of seven. Notice the seven swords on the cover of Last Stand of the Living.  As heroic as the battle scenes were, the march of the races to their aid shall be just as heroic and just as emotional.  The urgency to arrive and save their sons and their world becomes paramount task.

Now as Haggarfuse discovers he is losing the battle, he summons the armies of Charagrung, lead by Gahar, the lord of the underworld.  The very first book of the chronicles, the Fall of Helloria, is the story of Gahar, a mortal who falls to the lies of Haggarfuse.  Haggarfuse also learns of the source of the Unseen’s power and uses it to destroy Helloria, but deceives mortals so that the destruction appears to be of their own making.  The heroine of the story, Melin, will die tragically but will enter the light and protection of the Unseen.   While in the light, she and all the other mortal souls of goodness will await for justice.  Recall as Haggarfuse summons Gahar and releases all the bound forces of evil from the Marog.  You may be thinking to yourself, how can the mortals win against such ethereal forces?  Here the Unseen releases all the souls of history and from all the worlds.

The first nine stories of the chronicles are to be devoted to their stories of faith and heroism.  Recall that the Unseen in book one stated to Haggarfuse that the good souls were his, and the damned souls would become the Charagrung, ever clinging and gnawing at Haggarfuse’s heels as his punishment for bringing evil upon mortals. These stories will be told by the characters of the trilogy, as though reading a book of history.  Recall that in the bible we each have a book of judgement that will be opened one day.  These characters from the trilogy, those you have learned to love, create a reunion of sorts for the reader.  Each of these stories will end with a chapter titled Into the Light, which will turn the tragedy into a story of hope and will end with a cliff hanger of what will take place on the next  world to fall.  At the end of the ninth book, all the forces of good converge in waiting on Allivar, with each world having their own captain that will rise from the Porsian ocean to decimate the last hope of Haggarfuse. Also important in these stories are the origins of dragons, giants, the gregoron and other evil creatures.  The rise of evil will have been completed, with Allivar solely in their sight.

Now the final seven stories are the stories of the history of Allivar as written by Arimar’s line, which represent six ages and the seventh age, which is the arrival of Arimars birth and what was occurring behinds the scenes of the gathering of the forces of light and the freed races marching in unity to make come to the aid of Arimar and the sons of the races. Here the prophets, like Gandalf, have been set on path to resist the plans of Haggarfuse and keep the peoples of Allivar hopes up that one day evil shall be defeated.

The Fall of Helloria will be my largest story to date, because everything in it must reinforce the trilogy and be cleverly aligned to reinforce what will follow.  Now if my readers would write reviews and tell people of the trilogy, maybe I could devote all my day to writing and complete this series in two years.  There are just so many hours in a day.  I promise the wait will be worth it.



The Fall of Helloria (Near Completion)

The Fall of Europia (Premise Phase)

The Fall of Jeronia (Premise Phase)

The Fall of Isoria (Premise Phase)

The Fall of Glutonia (Premise Phase)

The Fall of Floria (Premise Phase)

The Fall of Denmaria (Premise Phase)

The Fall of Clempatria (Premise Phase)

The Fall of Borealia (Premise Phase)


The Age of the Warrior (Premise Phase)

The Age of the Barbarian (Premise Phase)

The Age of the Slayer (Premise Phase)

The Age of the Bloody (Premise Phase)

The Age of the Damned (Premise Phase)

The Age of the Conqueror (Premise Phase)

The Age of Light (Premise Phase)


Songs that make you hurl haggis

Today on Facebook a friend posed an interesting question.

Okay, What’s a song that you’ll be thrilled if you never ever hear it again? Mine is, “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” so tired of this song. So over played. What’s yours?

My response was Loving You by Minnie Riperton.  If you have ever heard this song from the 70’s, the singer has a unique high pitch than can shatter glass, a Memorex tape, your skull, awaken hell hounds in Hades, and result in uncontrollable haggis hurling.  Yet the radio DJ’s, all high on cannabis while watching strobe lit disco dance floors, played it over and over again.  Don’t believe me?  Well, please listen to Minnie in all her hypersonic glory, but please lower your hearing aid, as they are the first to burst.

Changing lyrics to songs is one of my favorite past times, “Loving you, is so truly painful, everything that I do, is oooh so torturous.”  This song was officially banned by the Abba committee at the Geneva convention of 1949.   Yes, I know it was made in 1973, but the Swedish foursome committee foresaw its coming and banned it without success, because they wanted to cash in on Dancing Queen – oh Mama Mia!  Of course there were also songs like Chuckies in Love and Midnight at the Oasis, where you had to put your camel to bed.  Is this the cigarettes?  Because if its the animal, I don’t want to know any more about song.  I am sure most the people my age crack up laughing now about lyrics they thought they knew, like the ones inside Manfred Mann’s Blinded by the Light – Wrapped up like a …….  Well you know how you sang to it.

I am a product of the 1970’s.  At first we had soft rock bands like Bread, that you could actually get close to a girl, and Slow Dancing and Swaying to the Music by Johnny Rivers, and nibble on her ear. Now that’s dancing!  Then disco invaded my life, with matching disco clothes, disco high-dive platform shoes, disco hair, disco strobe lights and the Bee Gees.  During that period I had to suffer through Staying Alive, and date girls who wanted to go see the Jersey Shore’s grandparents movie – Saturday Night Fever.  Sorry Snookie, you are not an original, although – Who let the dogs out, does come to the mind of several of the FB friends. I was trying to stay alive from cardiac arrest after chasing girls around the dance floor trying to get a little ear nibbling action.  They just ran away and called it disco dancing. I’d like to hunt down and strap the inventor of disco to a chair and make him watch the Fever, over and over again.  Although they tell me such treatment also violates the Geneva conventions.

Another FB friend stated that anything from Abba, Celine Dione, or a duo by Elton John and Kiki Dee could send them into ballistic haggis launch and orbit.  If you don’t recall the duo, here’s part of the lyrics – Don’t go breaking my heart…  How ironic!  Some said, When a man loves a woman for the 15,000th time by Michael Bolten created painful sensory overload.  Some simply said – Country.  Not the song, the entire musical universe , which I think is a little critical, It’s Five o’clock somewhere has to be an all-time favorite for most of us.

To make things even worse, Travorevolta starred in another movie I had to suffer through.  I had one very brief girlfriend that I went out with three times and each time I had to see GreaseBall – the Movie and listen to her sing  – You are the one that I want, ooh-ooh-ooh, while salivating down her blouse watching John gyrate. Having to see it three times should also be against the Geneva conventions. Turns out she was only going out with me to get to my best friend. So I changed the lyrics, one of my favorite past times as you may recall, into –Your the girl I wanna hurl – ooh, ooh, ooh.

As we move into the 80’s it was Madonna who curdled many a good haggis meal, and she still manages to do so with incredible staying power.  I never understood the meaning of – Like a Sturgeon, I suppose she loves caviar. I never knew a material girl could get so intimate with the floor. Then for the next 20 years rap took over.  I had laid odds on a 2 year history for rap and lost my entire 401(k). Can’t touch this comes painfully to my mind. Everything else since then has been a blur. So I take out my old eight track and vinyls and relive the glory days, where bands had musicians and singers.

Now being the fun loving guy that I am, my daughter-in-law wanted to know what music I wanted to hear at her wedding, so I said jokingly – “I like Big Butts!”  So what does my fun loving daughter-in-law play at her wedding – “I like Big Butts!”  Then she proceeded to make me dance to it with her.  I now truly hate that song, because I can’t dance.  I won’t challenge her ever again!

So as I close this blog post please enjoy another hypersonic singer, with video and music from Hamish and the Haggis Hurlers.  Later they renamed the band to Yanni and the Yonder Yoddlers.  They reunited one last time for a Holiday Inn Express farewell tour as Carl and Cannibas Cannibals, aka Focus.  What a classic!

Now it’s your turn.  What songs hurl your haggis?

Caffeine is not a crime – withholding Caffeine is


Recently I was interviewed by United Kingdom author Jane Isaac.  Her blog is titled Caffeine is not a crime.  Well I have to disagree.  Withholding caffeine from addicted coffee lovers can lead to a crime, mob chaos and World War III. Many of you may not be old enough to remember a mad scientific experiment gone completely wrong, called freeze dried coffee.  I believe the name for the coffee was Sanka. It might have been better described as Skunka.  It was nasty, vile, horrible and unpalatable.  It might have been better used as a mouth wash, for kids who you are trying to break the habit of swearing or back talking.  There are some things in life that just should not be, such as caffeine free coffee.

My grandfather, a Captain in General George S. Patton’s 3rd Army, introduced me to coffee, with just a touch of cream. I had no idea at the time that would be referred to as a Latte.  Soon I was drinking coffee straight because my father stated it would put hair on my chest, which I’m still waiting for.  Nowadays young men shave body hair, or have it surgically removed with lasers – what a bunch of wimps!  They should be slapped with the gloves of Patton for not being a true man.  Nowadays so-called men are into coffee art and coffee bars, where they can talk about seeing the Mona Lisa in their Mocha Latte Grande, with just a pinch of cinnamon and ginger, and the few remaining hairs they have left to be removed. They can compare who has the smoother legs, along with their girlfriends. Someone please shoot me.  I can’t understand young women who want decaffeinated coffee and dehaired men.  It’s just not right!  Give it to me straight and hot, piping hairy hot. Caffeine can lead to digression, its only drawback.

If it were not for coffee, I would not be holding two college degrees, a CPA license, a securities license and soon a realty license, and be a writer, blogger and self-publisher.  I have coffee to thank for my success and really bizarre dreams.  Some of the greatest stories ever written were induced by caffeinated dreams, I’d lay odds on it.  I needed the caffeine to stay awake for all the studying.  I even supplemented my coffee with No-Doze, which contrary to my intent, knocked me out cold. Go figure.  When my two demonic possessed children came along that would not sleep, that’s right, you guessed it, coffee was my constant companion.  People at work wanted to know if my insulated coffee mug was surgically attached to my hand.  Of course it wasn’t, how absurd, couldn’t they see the duct tape? We were inseparable pals.  I don’t cry often, but if I spill coffee, which is a Class I Misdemeanor punishable by forcible Sanka consumption, I would shed tears.

We are remodeling our kitchen and in the new pantry must be space that holds our commercial quality coffee bean grinder, on a remote control sliding shelf, because we have to top load 20 pounds of beans. Yes, I am that dedicated and addicted. Instead of hoarding dried food for the next apocalypse we hoard coffee beans.  We feel it is a safe investment in the event we need to barter.  Should our grinder or the electric grid fail, I would gladly chew on the beans, with a hot water chaser.  That’s how dedicated, committed, and addicted I am to coffee.  I give special thanks to God each night before I go to bed for Juan Valdez, and the rich and supremo soils of Colombia.  For without caffeine, we’d all become a raging felonious mob of zombies.

Welcome to Coffee Chaos Monthly, Allivar Creative Publishing’s newest monthly blog journal.  As a new and committed subscriber to this nonsense, what coffee chaos have you witnessed this month.  Come on, don’t be bashful.

Now please stand and sing with me our coffee pledge (think O’ Christmas tree)

Oh coffee bean,

Oh coffee bean,

I need chest hairs that can be seen.

Oh coffee bean,

Oh coffee bean,

Without you I’d make a chaotic scene.

I feel so lively and high strung,

I’ll even risk a scorched tongue.

Oh coffee bean,

Oh coffee bean,

You keep our bowels really clean.

Have a great coffee filled day.

Generations of Family Love


Many families do not have the opportunity to take just one photo of a series of generations within a family.  The above photo is of my family’s four male generations, beginning with the patriarch all the way to the newest member of the line of Greenlee’s – Brogan.  What a heroic name, which will certainly find its way into one of my chronicles stories.    I want you to consider the following quote, which appears in book two of my trilogy, Bound to Forbidden Lands:

 “Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.  Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted.”  Paul Pearshall

This picture immediately became very special to me, for a variety of reasons, most of all, it helps me get a point across about the story I spent 10 years in writing.  It is a fantasy story wrapped around that basic instinct of family.  Arimar the hero is separated at birth by evil forces because it has been foretold he will free the lands of the seven races and reunite the family’s of the living.  Arimar does not know of his family’s fate. If he had a photo, he stands alone, he has no connection to family, but he has been promised by the Lord of Light and Life that he will learn of their fate.  He becomes distraught as a teenager when he feels there is nothing to live for and almost commits suicide, but his faith and his basic instinct to know of his family’s fate drives him forward.  He will endure great sacrifice even until the end, questioning his own being.

My highest goal in writing this story was to rip the heart and soul out of a reader, just for a moment, to bring some clarity to life.  For we have much to lose in this world. This world that we have taken for granted. It is a story filled with evil, war, and death. Yet at its central theme is life and family.  I gave a monumental effort to bring the reader to a point where they will no longer take for granted the precious moments and people in life. For Allivar means “The One Family”, and is an allegory of the time we share on this great miracle of the heavens we call earth.

I have a close family that is passionate for life.  We argue like crazy and sometimes we yell and hurt feelings, but there is no power in this realm that can separate us from being ready to stand for each other.  In the coming years the patriarch will disappear from this photo and only memories will fill the void. This is the unavoidable consequence of being mortal. He will be missed greatly, but he set the foundation for all that is to follow. His legacy, his spirit will never die and will rest in each successive generation, if we are good and wise stewards.

Hopefully, I will stand long enough on this world and will move to the top of the photo, when my great grandson arrives, with hope that he shall carry on a line of men of high values and ethics in a falling world.  As with Arimar, I too, will one day leave this physical world to enter an ethereal world, where those that preceded me will welcome me with open arms and there will be no more pains of the mortal life. So I stand for my faith and beliefs.   My story of family, as much the photo above, is very dear to me, and yes, I would lay down my life for any and all of them, just as Arimar would.  This dedication and quote appear in the last book of the trilogy, Last Stand of the Living.

I dedicate this final book to my parents, Wayne and Dixie.  There will come a day when we must part this physical world and enter the ethereal.  This separation will be short and we will gather for new celebrations amongst the heavens.

“For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.” William Penn

Please, today, tell a family member of your love for them and take nothing for granted.


For the Love of Children


This picture says it all.  Children age us, they break us and they make us insane.  The only reason we have children it is said, is to have grandchildren.  This grandparent phase of life is great.  You get to watch your children age, go broke and insane, and you high-five your grandchild.  Your kids come to you with all the horror stories of the day and how tired they are from the little sleep they get, how much and how far their child hurled Gerber haggis that morning, followed by neeps at noon, and tatties by dinner time. They tell you of the lost video game playing time they are suffering. Oh my poor, poor deprived child.  They reenact with facial expressions the sight and smell of the fully loaded poopie Pampers or haggis Huggies. We grandparents try to act as though we are concerned and sympathetic by nodding our heads lovingly.  As soon as our kids leave, guess what we grandparents really do?

We laugh our asses off! That’s right! We howl and cry with laughter about your child raising sob stories. Been there and done that.  That’s when we go to our knees and give thanks to God that the circle of life has come full circle, the prophecy of revenge has been fulfilled – can I have an AMEN!


Recently you could see the agony in my son’s eyes when he could no longer just take off and go see the Hobbit at will. Welcome to parental prison my son (snickers).  We explained we had already seen it twice.  Oh how sweeeet was that?  I recall my first house had sheets on the windows and I stomped on aluminum beer cans to buy savings bonds for my kids education.  So what happened to the bonds?  Repairing auto accidents, that’s what.  We were insane for caring about our kids.  We never spent on ourselves until they were taken care of first.  This why I suffered for a decade eating macaroni and cheese, which I swear has child addiction chemicals added in the processing phase.

We had a curfew for our son who kept exceeding them.  We kept extending, until we finally said 2 a.m. was enough.  So what does Einstein do?  He drives home from his girl friend’s home some 30 miles away and arrives at home and on time, and shows us how he accomplished this task with a ticket for going 110 MPH in a Chevy Lumina. That’s right a Chevy Lumina that wasn’t made to go 110 MPH, let alone 55.  Holy cow, he’s lucky he’s alive. The Lumina is a short name for a cheap auto made from aluminum beer cans supplied by yours truly. When I questioned him about the speed he said, “I am very confident with my driving!”  That’s great, I hope he was very confident his bald tires could handle the speed. It was at that very moment I could hear the gray hairs popping from my pores, or others falling to the ground.

His greatest intellectual and most frequent comment was, “Let me live my life!”  Easy to say when the parents are footing the bills and buying the large bags of Nacho Cheese Doritos that he devoured in less than 30 minutes. He even licked his fingers and the bag clean before I could get near them.  I recall a time when he met a 14 year old girl on a chat room, over at his friend’s home, the one where his parents were the unconditional type.  She lied and said she was 16, which makes all the difference in terms of maturity.  His friend would have nothing to do with her, so my Einstein again shows his logical reasoning skills, as she wants him now, and he willingly accepts like a hound dog on the scent of a murderer.  So Einstein was willing to defy me and drive the Lumina from Dallas to Missouri to visit this mature woman he had fallen in love with at his ripe and wise age of 16.  How romantic!  Except he had no job and no means of getting past the Texas state line, unless he somehow learned how to make the Lumina run on Doritos Nacho Cheese gas.  So being the cruel parent that I am, I called said mature girl’s uncaring, unloving, immature and conditional mother, who was aghast at her daughters online habits.  I was now a heart breaker.

Then there’s my lovely daughter who wrecked her car before she could make it out of our block.  All she had to do was shift to reverse and BAM!  She is the reason automotive engineers toiled with those rear vision cameras and detectors, or AAA – Automatic Accident Avoidance.  She totaled the next car too and more AAA testing was ordered by the universal society of safety engineers. Drivers on Mars weren’t taking any chances. I am certain she is also the inspiration for the next era of self driven autos by Google technologist.  I am sure one of those engineers she dated and was with her in the car screaming for dear life as she switched on the ignition and screamed, “We are all gonna dieeee!”

Then there was the self-piercing episode in which she claimed she had the “never ending” pimple. She wanted a tattoo, a sore subject with me, to be a conforming nonconformist and be sooo different from all the other tribal members at the high school.  Even more hilarious was the MySpace era where kids had multiple personalities.  The one you see, the one her friends see, and the one the wild, wild, world-wide, wide, wide web of strangers see.  I swear people open up more of their intimate details online than in the mirror.  Here, my lovely Einsteinette of a daughter changed her name and age hoping I would never find her.  All you had to do was look at her friends page and see that that friend had a new friend named Kiki DeFrounge from France and she was 99 years old, but still in high school and bearing a striking resemblance to my lovely daughter. She was just way too clever for me, for sure, whatever.

My children wanted unilateral unconditional love.  You know the kind. Where if they get what they want, they love you, if not, you were some creepy cruel demon spawn, meant to do only one thing in life and that was to torture them. So after all the late nights of sleep and 401(k) savings lost to raising our children, when I hear their sob stories I try so very hard not to laugh, as I tell them we are going to Hawaii for some R&R.  You can see the want in their tearing eyes, because they are about to burst their eye sockets. You might think this is rather selfish and cruel of me to be so vengeful.  You know what, you are right.  This is very selfish and cruel of me to want revenge, but you know what else?

I plead guilty by reason of insanity.

Flash Erotic Fiction

It seems as though everyone is writing erotic fiction.  I can’t tell if these are young lonely people, fantasizing about love, or just trying to prove if human combustion from the heated passion of writing is possible.  So I thought I’d give it a try.

Arlene walked into the room as the college football national championship game just began on ESPN.  She was wearing a silky satin teddy, or doll baby, whatever, it was hot, really hot.  My eyes wondered from the tube to her direction.  She was winking that seductive wink and wrinkling up her lip, with a small trace of tongue appearing and teasing me. At first my eyes veered then my whole head. She had my undivided attention.

Holy cow!  Did you just see that run! Screamed the game analyst. I turned my head back to the tube and screamed my favorite Bobby Bowden curse “Dadgummit!”

Suddenly my attention was diverted again as Arlene ran down the hall shouting ‘REALLY’  and a few obscene words, which I will not utter.  Control yourself Arlene, I thought to myself, coach Bowden would bench a player for such cursing. She was down 0-1.

Suddenly I was trapped in a dilemma.  Watch Arlene or the game.  Now this is what I call pressure.  I was already sweating and my mouth was getting drier and drier. She came back with a silver pole and my lithium charged Milwaukee heavy duty screwdriver set. As I watched her assemble the pole, my attention was back on her.  Of course planting the pole in front of the 60″ TV, was easy to catch my attention. She secured it to the ground and then the ceiling and then proceeded to do the tether ball dance all around it.  My head swayed from side to side as I watched her slink and swirl down the pole.  I was about to give her an Olympic perfect score of 10 hotness, but I lowered myself to see the pass play now in progress and then raised it back up when she was done. My team scored and I missed it. Arlene was now down 0-2.

“That was great honey”, I said.  “I had no idea you could do such things.”

She ran down the hall again and brought in the exercise ball and proceeded to balance it in ways I thought impossible. It was getting hotter in the house, the game was getting near halftime and then the timer in the kitchen went off.  My bacon covered jalapeno nachos were now done.  So I proceeded to the kitchen to open another bottle of beer and wolf down the nachos, just in time to see Arlene roll around, never realizing I had left.  Hey, it was bacon covered I justified to myself.  Now she was 0-3, a strike out, and she went back to the room and torched that new teddy doll barbie thingy outfit, or whatever they call it.

The game ended and after a handful full of TUMS I was ready for the post game action. I came into the room and there she was; my angel, my honey bear, my goddess divine all sprawled out and snoring.  I tore off my jeans and stood on the bed over her in my new Hanes.  “Your loverboy has arrived,” I said with a huge grin on my face.

“REALLY!” She turned and rolled over and resumed the wood cutting.

Appears my chance of scoring was a shut out too.  Not only that she didn’t have the decency to put my tools up.

As you can see, my future as an erotic writer is doomed.  Football, bacon and jalapenos are now my mistress as a middle-aged author.  I may not know women and their complex female code, but I sure know my wife….


That’s right – 50 Shades of Soap Suds, grrrrrrr

Empathy for a Creator


Empathy, sometimes a forgotten word in this self centered world, were sympathy and apathy are more common.   Here’s the definition for the sake of this post,

The power of understanding and imaginatively entering into another person’s feelings.

Recently I posted a thought on my Facebook  page regarding the power of creation that we experience as mortals:

“When you hold an infant in your arms for the very first time, you feel the awesome power and the love of creation. Never allow that sensation to escape your mind, for one day, without warning, and from all your efforts to protect from shared wisdom, you might lose that which you created through the corruptible forces of the world. Should that moment ever happen, have empathy for the creator of that world, no matter which you choose to believe in, for the loss that creator had to endure for the fall of the mortal family. Hug and kiss someone dear to you today.”

As I have mentioned many times before, my trilogy, The Chosen One of Allivar, has many underlying themes topical to our current time in history and allegorically relevant.  In my years on this world I have seen many changes, none as rapid as the loss of the prospect that we were created by an unseen power.  Scientific theory has replaced faith in anything other than oneself, yet science has not advanced the manner in which we treat one another.  For once, imagine being a creator of earth, what would you do?  Would you hold on in the expectation that mortals would one day see the light and finally seek peace? Would you wipe out all humans from their actions?  Would you allow demons to continue their quest with the corruption and destruction of that which you created? How long could you take being cursed by your own creations?  What test of faith would you give mortals?

My trilogy is an epic fantasy adventure and a mythology.  It is not Christian fiction.  However, it is influenced by Christian and other stories of faith.  Yes it deals with creation and the viewpoint of the fictional creator – the Unseen, the Lord of Light and Life. The first nine chapters of Rise of the Fallen may give the impression it is biblical, but this was done solely to create familiarity and nothing more of the creation story, the fall of immortals and the birth of evil.  To create a credible story I engaged in much research, including the understanding of the hierarchy of Angels and the classification of Demons. From this research I created my own classifications and gave them entirely new names. I scoured for banned stories to improve my understanding of ancient people’s view of their world.  Like J.R.R. Tolkien, I wanted my very own mythology, so I created one.  The type of story I wanted to read.

One of my family friends who is now 79 years old and a devout Christian stated he hoped one day a story would be told where one is wrapped in the full armor of God.  Funny he should say that, because part of the story plot involves this very concept.  What he was referring to was a passage from the Bible in Ephesians:

The Armor of God (Ephesians 6:10-17)

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.

Many people today believe the Bible is no more than a myth and literature.  No matter your beliefs, the Bible is one of the most fascinating reads you will ever undertake.  As a writer, you must experience different viewpoints to enhance your story. However, the main premise of my story came from the Jewish story of the siege of Masada. Some of the story is influenced by the Bhagavad Gita and many, many other sources including pagan mythologies.   The hero of the story Arimar, has been given powerful gifts by the Unseen, including the shield of faith, derived specifically from this passage in the Bible. It is from this passage that the title of the final story, Last Stand of the Living, was derived.  I can guarantee my friend, that in the end all the powers of good and evil collide, with a surprising and thought provoking ending.

In the ten years of writing this trilogy (2000 – 2010), I poured many of my various beliefs, opinions and philosophical thoughts into the story.  Today, many people want simple and entertaining reads, yet very few can recall the detail of the story they had just read.  I am slow reader, when I find a good story, it is engrained into my memory.  I like to think and have all my senses evoked.  In my opinion, too many modern stories are short of story and too quick on sensory stimulation. My story will challenge you, only if you are ready to be challenged.  It will certainly entertain you, once the foundation of the creation story has been read and understood. I have embedded clues and hints that will keep you guessing maybe for the rest of your life. In the end, you should be touched emotionally and philosophically if you can have empathy for a creator of worlds.

Are you ready to challenged?