Saturday, February 22, 2020
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Video 15Emotion of any kind in the house where Emma grew up was a rare thing, so when she disappeared it took some time before her aunt actually realized that she was missing. Then a month went by, quickly. Aunt Evelyn knew of only one person who would care, who would do something about getting her back, who would do anything for Emma:
Friday, August 30, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
Friday, July 5, 2013
New World Order Rising, Book 1, The Abduction
The following excerpt is from my
new novel, New World Order
Rising, Book 1, The Abduction. This is excerpt #5, the last one
before publication sometime this month, July, 2013. Here the main characters
have reached the New Mexico
desert, the location of an Illuminati Satanist camp, where Carter hopes to find
his abducted daughter, Chantal, and granddaughter, Dodie.
****
One man, keeping his weapon ready,
approached the driver side, “What do you people want here? This is private
property.”
Carter wondered about the truth of
that but didn’t say anything, just glanced at Harley, who spoke, “We noticed a
camouflaged pickup turn onto this road awhile back. We thought if you guys are
training here you could be a good ally.”
The man looked surprised, “Ally for
what?”
“An assault on the Illuminati.”
The man’s expression stabilized,
then he pointed, “Head on down to that main building where the flag is flying.”
He stepped onto the running board, “I’ll just tag along and introduce you.”
At the building the man stepped
down, “Wait here,” then walked to the building and knocked, shortly went
inside. About five minutes later he reappeared and returned, “All four of you.
Come in.”
Militia
Carter wasn’t expecting to see two
silver bars on the collar of the man behind the desk.
“That’s right, sir, I’m a captain in the US
Army, and I’m absent without leave.” He pointed toward chairs against the wall.
After everyone—except their escort, who remained standing—was seated, “Now
what’s this about an assault on the Illuminati?”
Carter looked at Harley and nodded.
Harley told their whole story, ending with, “The assault will happen tomorrow
night.”
“We know of them,” the captain
said, “It’s a new location and we haven’t been able to penetrate yet, and what
are we to do? Just go in there with guns blazing?”
“Yes!” Carter exclaimed.
“We’d like to, and with the
direction the country seems to be heading…well, we’ve…been waiting.”
“So, you are an AWOL officer in
charge of local militia men…?”
“That’s right, the New World Order,
the Skull and Bones, the Illuminati, whatever the hell you want to call them, they
are poised to take over. That last mass shooting provoked a massive new
gun law by the liberals. Without presenting it all to you, the most important
item was demanding registration of every firearm in the nation, from .22 caliber
pistols to antique shotguns to, of course, the AR15. A registration will take a
huge amount of time, but even if they aren’t finished registering, the next
mass shooting just might provoke the confiscation.” The man placed his hand
over his mouth for a few seconds, then continued, “If they aren’t already
confiscating as we speak. Disarm America
first, including Canada ,
then the rest of the world will likely fall into line.
“Oh sure, there’ll be
individuals—like you people—who will try to fight—a few Latin Americans,
probably a few Brits—but you won’t know who the enemy is. Outside of my
lieutenant here—“ He nodded toward their escort, “I don’t even know how many of
the men here in camp are true militia. Some might even be army intelligence, or
NSA. As Fox Mulder of the X-files would say, we can ‘trust no one.’”
The officer took a breath, “So
that’s what we—including you folks—are up against.”
“But you said they are ‘poised
to take over.’” Carter said, “How do you know that?”
The captain turned to Carter, “You
remember the black-uniformed police you saw—that your partner just described to
me, the ones who took that union bunch—not that I have any love for the
unions—but they took them, and, at the moment, on yet a small scale,
that’s happening all over the country and Canada, and not just union
strikers but individuals too, like yourselves. You’ve been gone for what? Just
four days?
“Yes,” Carter said.
“From Fargo ,
North Dakota Fargo should have stayed small and
out of sight, but no, she had to grow and grow—had to join the big boys, not
that, in the end, it would have made any difference. Furnaces all over the
country will soon be pouring out smoke, and, just like the Jews, nobody—or
few—will believe what’s happening, until it’s too late, and believe me,
this new power that’s upon us will be able to do—what the Nazis tried—a
lot faster, and absolutely more efficiently—”
“So,” Harley interrupted, “Will you
help us, or not?”
“We will,” the captain said, “My
lieutenant will provide you with a radio, which you should give us a check call
once you’re back on the highway. We are ‘Crow,’ and you shall be ‘Magpie,’
two birds of a common feather. If you do run into major trouble, just call us
and we will send a helicopter.” The captain smiled, “In fact, if we even hear
firing in that direction we will probably come.”
“Thank you,” Harley said, “Are we
free to leave?”
“Of course.” The captain gestured
toward the door, “Remember, though, the Illuminati have a very, very,
powerful, ally.”
Only Carter—evidently the only one
who didn’t already know—stopped, “Who?”
“Lucifer.” The captain spoke with
the straightest of face.
****
Thanks for reading
Author’s notes
(Digital
downloads $0.99-$3.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)
In my fiction I do
not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular
people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they
can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one
genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to
fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in
third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children.
Contact
nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S Author page at Amazon
http://morninginapril.weebly.com Website & Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/
Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/ HubPages
https://twitter.com/PMGOLD Twitter
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The
world is full of psychos and wackos)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital
books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows
you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad,
iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.
Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a day, sometimes more than a day. Look for
those announcements on my blog, Twitter, and Facebook
One last thing: When you visit my website, please check
out the Freebies page.
Friday, June 28, 2013
New World Order Rising, Book 1, Excerpt 4
From my new novel, New
World Order Rising, to be released some time in July, 2013. Carter
Banks’ daughter, Chantal, 24, and his granddaughter, Dodie (Doe-dee,) 6, have
been abducted by the Illuminati. In this excerpt Chantal has the viewpoint, and
is trying to comfort her daughter as best she can. Forced to lie in the
backseat for many hours they are finally arriving…somewhere. Chantal has no
idea where or what’s happening, as their abductors do not speak except to give
orders.
****
Chantal could feel the car turning,
slowing down, speeding up, turning again. They must be getting close to
somewhere. But where? Her headache was gone.
“You two can sit up back there,”
came that voice from the front.
Stiffly, Chantal moved her feet to
the floor, at the same time put both her hands on, “Dodie, honey, you can sit
up now.”
“Mom…?”
“Yes, honey, sit up, please, get
right up here on the seat beside me.” As if I can protect you from all harm.
Dodie moved quickly to beside her
mom, who put both her arms around her and kept them there.
The man in the front passenger seat
looked back. In daylight the man’s face looked doubly evil, and white, almost
bloodless, white. He didn’t smile, “Brush your hair with your hands, and
get the sleep seeds out of your eyes, the kid’s eyes too.”
She did as told. Dodie looked up,
her soft eyes showing…she didn’t know, “Mom, where are we?”
“I don’t know, honey.”
“Where are we going?”
“That’s enough talking back there.”
“Ssssh.” She put her finger to
Dodie’s lips, “Quiet, honey, please. They’ll soon tell us.”
The man in front, the driver, she
thought, laughed, but didn’t say anything.
With her daughter as close to her
as possible, she looked at the passing scenery. Not much to see. Rundown
buildings. Empty streets. No trees, no people. She saw a statue ahead, a
warrior, with a sword, maybe—she remembered seeing a picture of a knight once,
a Knights Templar, she thought—whoever they were—she wasn’t sure. The
statue was rundown too, and had many bird droppings on it. They came to a more
open area, at least three blocks with few but really rundown buildings,
something like a modern ghost town.
Then appeared a much larger
building. The car steered toward the main entrance to what appeared to have
once been a fabulous hotel, with even a doorman. No uniform, though. She felt a
rush of humor. The man at the door was anything but royalty; he even looked
homeless, like he was getting paid to stand by that door and soon would just
disappear into the streets again.
They stopped. The man in the
passenger seat got out quickly, removed a key from his pants pocket and
unlocked the back door, then opened it and gestured, “Come on, lady. We’re
here.”
Where?
Hanging onto Dodie’s hand she
stepped out first. Dodie followed and clutched her mom’s arm.
The man then gestured to the
doorman, who stepped up and grabbed Dodie’s arm and pulled her away. Chantal
grabbed Dodie’s other arm and tried to hang on but realized she couldn’t win
and let go.
“Mom…?” Dodie’s eyes showed…fear.
She had seen dozens of expressions
cross her beautiful daughter’s face but never what resided there now—she
couldn’t really call it fear, but an emptiness, as if Dodie already knew she
was seeing her mom for the last time—and Chantal knew her own face had to be
showing fear like she had never known—I can’t let my daughter see the fear
I’m feeling—she tried to erase the fear from her face; she felt her face
turned hard—what can I do?—Dodie!—“Just do what he wants, Dodie.” She
couldn’t have said that! What on earth had she just told her daughter to
do? Whatever the man wants—my dear Lord!
The man with the evil face then
grabbed Chantal’s arm and pulled her through the door. The man with Dodie came
in too, but went in another direction.
“Mom…?”
Chantal’s stomach felt like it no
longer existed. She struggled as much as she dared, and watched her Dodie
getting farther and farther away. She tried to see into her daughter’s eyes,
tried to tell her that everything would soon be all right, but somehow she knew
that everything was not going to be all right, and that ‘emptiness’
look stayed on Dodie’s face. She watched until her child disappeared through
another door. The look in Dodie’s eyes stayed with her, and would stay
with her, Dodie, my Dodie—dear Lord, where are we? What’s happening? God,
please help us!
****
In this second excerpt Chantal and
Dodie have been separated for awhile. Mason is Chantal’s husband.
****
When Chantal awoke again the
vicious headache was back. They must have drugged her again. She knew she was
again riding, again lying in the backseat. At least it was dark, so she opened
her eyes. But just the act of opening them intensified the pain. Then she
became aware of a voice—
“What do you mean ‘She’s not a
virgin?’ Christ, she can’t be more then five or six years old!”
“She fell…on her bike,” Chantal
said, and couldn’t believe she was explaining, “It happened just last year—“
“What?” The man in the front
passenger seat jerked around, “What did you say?”
She opened her eyes for a second,
saw that the man was on a cell phone, “She was riding her new bike and the seat
came off—I told Mason it wasn’t right but he didn’t listen! Dodie bled and
bled….” She started to drift again, but heard the man repeating what she had
told him. Why did I tell him? Where am I? “What’s happening? Where’s my
baby?”
“Shut up back there!”
“You bastard!” She screamed.
The pain in her head increased still more, like a belt around her and
tightening, “Where’s my baby? What have you done with her?” Her head
started spinning. She opened her eyes one more time before passing out; she saw
the man looking at her, saw the dash lights reflecting again on the face of
pure evil.
Thanks for reading
Author’s notes
(Digital
downloads $0.99-$3.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)
In my fiction I do
not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular
people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they
can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one
genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to
fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in
third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children.
Contact
email nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SubRon15 SmashWords Author Page https://jameswnelsonblog.com/
Website & Blog
(Will need to copy and paste for Website & Blog)
https://gab.com/Headforthehills Gab Social Site https://Brighteon.social/@subron75
Brighteon Social Site
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed)
(The world is full of psychos and wackos)
Friday, June 21, 2013
New World Order Rising, Book 1, Excerpt 3
Excerpt from Chapter 12 Casket
Liners—What are they For?
Carter Banks (main character)
and Harley Maxwell (Carter’s best friend from childhood) following by GPS the
abductors of Carter’s daughter and granddaughter, have taken a sidetrip into Nebraska
The road soon appeared, but would
have been easy to miss. Carter turned onto it.
“Just keep going, Carter. When we
get there you’ll know.
They soon entered a large meadow
clearing, where appeared stack upon stack of…, “What on earth are those?”
“Casket liners,” Harley said,
Thousands of’em. Maybe hundreds of thousands”
“Liners? Hell, they’re bigger than
the caskets themselves.”
“That’s right. You, me, and two or
three other good-sized people could crawl into just one.”
Carter pulled to within fifty feet
of a stack and stopped. Nearby a man got up and stared at them, “What the hell?
I didn’t even see him. What is he? A guard, maybe?”
“Not likely.” Harley opened a
compartment down below the dash, easily accessible by either the driver or
passenger, and pulled out what appeared to be a semi-automatic pistol, “Colt
.45, my friend.” He also retrieved a loaded magazine, inserted it into the
handle, and pulled back the slide, cocking it, then put it on half-cock safety.
He then slipped it behind him, between his back and his trousers.
Just like they do it in the
movies.
“Leave it running,” Harley said,
“We’ll both get out and talk to him. He might know something.”
They both got out, and left their
doors open.
“Howdy!” Harley called out.
The man didn’t answer. The stare on
his face appeared to harden, and maybe get a little wild.
“We’ll approach a little closer,”
Harley said.
They took a few more slow steps.
“Who the fuck are you?” The man
doubled his fists and raised, slightly, his left one.
“We’re nobody.”
“Yeah, ‘nobody’—fuckin’
right! Then what the fuck you want here?”
The man’s eyes had much white
showing, and—my god! His hair was short and black and looked like a
photo from a deep past, and a short little black moustache mainly just under
his nose that reminded Carter of, of—he refused to even think the name!
“They’re gonna try to mark us!” the
man shouted.
“Who’s ‘they?’” Harley
asked.
They were within about twenty feet.
“That’s close enough,” Harley said
in a low voice.
“The ones in charge,” the man said,
a little quieter.
“And who’s that?”
“You know!—the shadow fucking government!
Or the goddamned Illuminati—whoever the fuck they are!”
“So you don’t really know?”
“I know all goddamned right—I was
with’em—I was one of’em, for Chris-sake!”
“Are they close by?”
“Hell, they’re everywhere!”
“But the group you were with,” Harley
persisted, “Where are they? How close?”
As they stood there an odor began,
“Jesus!” Carter’s hand flew to his nose, an automatic movement.
“You don’t like that smell, do ya,
ya crazy fucker—it’s gangrene! I’m probably gonna die soon. The mutherfuckers
shot me when I was escaping. Hit my leg. It’s a wonder I got away at all.”
“We should help him,” Carter said.
“Start backtracking to the pickup,”
Harley said, “You keep driving.”
“What…?”
“Do it!”
They carefully walked backwards.
Carter’s skin began crawling. He didn’t know how close they were and he didn’t
want to turn around and look—
“Run!”
Then he did turn around and
ran, but just before he stopped seeing the man he saw that the man had started
toward them, limping but appearing quite able to move quickly. He reached the
driver’s side, jumped in and closed the door, thanking God they had left it
running.
Harley had moved a little more
slowly while keeping his eyes on the man. Finally at the door he pulled his gun
and pointed it at the man, then fired into the ground between the man’s feet.
The man stopped, “Mutherfuckers!
The hell with ya—we’re all gonna die anyway! The Mayans was wrong, but the
Illuminati ain’t!”
“Let’s go!” Harley said as he
climbed in, “Go to his left, about two hundred feet, then make a big U-turn and
haul our asses out’a here and back to the interstate, and don’t let no grass
grow under us!”
Carter did as instructed, and as he
began the U-turn, through peripheral vision, almost like an impossible dream,
he saw them: Railroad tracks. He tried to dismiss what he saw, the man’s
startling resemblance, the casket liners, as the presence of both things sent
his mind reeling to nightmarish movies and old news reels from World War II
Nazi concentration camps.
He didn’t think the Nazis had
bothered with casket liners, but the horrible analogy was there. What are
they for? Why the railroad? God help us!
Thanks for reading
Author’s notes
(Digital
downloads $0.99-$3.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)
In my fiction I do
not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular
people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they
can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one
genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to
fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in
third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children.
Contact
nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S Author page at Amazon
http://morninginapril.weebly.com Website & Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/
Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/ HubPages
https://twitter.com/PMGOLD Twitter
Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The
world is full of psychos and wackos.)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital
books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows
you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad,
iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.
Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a day, sometimes more than a day. Look for
those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook.
One last thing: When you visit my website, please check
out the Freebies page.
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