It was a sweltering day, which August sometimes keeps in reserve. There was no mad walk in the noonday sun for me. I waited until some semblance of evening appeared before I went outside.
It was to be a brief walk, twenty minutes or so. Through a graveyard, along city streets, crossing the “Bridge To Nowhere” (a pedestrian bridge over four lanes of traffic) to watch the broad river. Then back.
As I walked through the historic graveyard (more than two centuries of the dead) I saw an animal deep among the grave stones. Larger than a cat, smaller than a dog. I went to investigate.
I was reasonably close when I realized it was a badger. Not a beast to toy with. They can be vicious, so I was careful to keep my distance. Feet and toes in sandals might be too inviting. The badger kept a close eye on me as we approached each other.
I reached the point where I had decided to go no further. When I stopped, the animal made a quick run and disappeared under a gravestone. It was a long stone, flat to the ground, covering the length of the grave. On closer inspection I noted burrow holes at either end of the stone. Entrance and escape when necessary.
I had the desire to investigate further, but good sense and the heat of the day dissuaded me. I listened a moment for any rustle underground. Any gnawing on bones. However, I wanted my own fingers and toes intact. I left, pondering what its burrow might consist of.
I owe my life to Hitler, though I never met the man. My father was paid to stop Hitler, so there is no conflict of interest. I was given a thunk on the back o' the head by God when I was fifteen, and within a week began to write. I haven't stopped. My first novel was accepted 'over the transom'. My first editor/author luncheon in New York included a naked man with roller skates at the next table. For the sake of research I have lain on Kafka's grave, but I did not weep. I wish upon my own gravestone the phrase "Thank God He Didn't Die A Virgin". There is truth in every truth - so watch out.
My published novels include the popular fantasy A Lost Tale and the thriller The Bonner Deception. I also have two editions of humorous and spiritual short stories, The Elephant Talks to God, which are appreciated by both young and old.
My manuscripts range from stories about unicorns and druids in the 'Passing Through Trilogy' to the 9/11 destruction of New York. I have filled in the missing diaries of Franz Kafka; recounted the first person dementia of a serial killer; explored the outrageous lifestyle of the famous; and listened in while an elephant and God converse. I currently switch my attention between the saga of a family of onion farmers, from Fourth century Italy to the present day, and a contemporary NATO thriller.
I live in Canada and make Nova Scotia my home.
I prefer to travel by train, but embrace the computer age with passion. I am always on the hunt for unique onion recipes.
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