CASINO SHUFFLE (48 page)

     
It was Josh who asked, "Now why would a man make a rope circle around his bed, I wonder?"

     
"The snake, she hunts at night but she won't cross the rope because it smells of man," Delacroix explained seriously.

     
"Snakes be damned!
 
You must think me a fool fer'em!"
 
Josh snorted, turning his back to the fire and his tormentor.

     
"Durn French beaver skinner," he muttered to himself.
 
He did, however, plan to get up and grab a rope out of the wagon as soon as the camp grew quiet.

• *
   
  *
  

Hope you enjoyed this introduction.

Available at Amazon for Kindle and other electronic devices

Bio

Edward Medina is a native New Yorker now living in
Orlando
,
Florida
by way of
Atlanta
,
Georgia
and
London
,
England
. He was raised by his mother and grandmother to believe that life is an adventure best lived to the fullest. To that end Edward has lived his life on the edge of creative possibility.

Over time, he has been a radio and voice over artist. He built a significant career as a producer, director and writer for both digital media and the New York Off and Off Off Broadway stages. He also had the honor and the privilege to work for the late great Jim Henson. He then went on to become a theme park designer. For fun, he became a steam train engineer and since childhood, a sometime magician. Although, at this point in his life the magic he creates is for the page.
    

Edward recently published his first novel in the Mathias Bootmaker and the Keepers of the Sandbox Trilogy: It Is Said, through Amazon Kindle. His gothic poem, Emperor’s Nocturne, was selected for inclusion in the horror anthology Enter At Your Own Risk. This collection of new writers and old masters is available in paperback and on Amazon Kindle.

In the near future Edward is looking forward to completing more of his epic fantasies, along with other tales and poems, of journeys and adventures, both light and dark.

In November 2011 he will be publishing A Murder Of Crows, the prolog to his 2012 release, X Pirates: Nightthorn's Revenge. This tale promises classic, bold, swashbuckling exploits but in a uniquely different setting. The prolog preview tells the origin legend of Benjamin Nightthorn, the feared, dreaded and deadly captain of the ghost ship Revenge.

Early in 2012 Edward will introduce the world to The Upiies of Isla Mona. This children’s book is the story of a very special little family living on a very special little island. This tale holds a warm place in Edward’s heart. The soul of the story is wrapped around his love for his grandmother and the wisdom she left him.

Preview:

Oracle Darke

 
No room is empty if your mind is full. One learns that as a prisoner of the Academy Darke. That’s all Mouse could think of as he sat in this very particular empty room.

 
A roaring fire in the fireplace kept it lit and uncomfortably warm. Mouse sat in a wooden chair that sat opposite a long, splendidly carved table. On that table was a large hour glass. The sand was sitting quite still in the upper chamber. It was waiting. Just like Mouse. It just sat there waiting. Just like Mouse sat.

This round room was well known. It was the public office of a very private man. It was situated at the base of the castle’s tallest tower and in the place that many people believed was the soul of the structure.

This is where he met with the People, his officials and dignitaries. It was below the family quarters where they lived their lives. Somewhere above was the playroom where the family was murdered. Somewhere above that was the secret laboratory of the man that brought illumination to his people.

The entrance to that secret place had been a matter of great debate amongst the people of the village. Since the visionary’s passing, it had been searched for but never found.

Then a new plan was formed.

Men scaled the tower from the outside. They intended to enter the tower through the crystal flame. The new glass panels, put in place after the great explosion, would not yield to torch, hammer or pick. A second attempt was planned.

Oracle Darke put a stop to that.

This room was known as the Dragon Mural Room and Mouse could see why. The entire space was wrapped in a mural that told the story of the Dragon Spark. The painting was covered with dust and soot but the vivid colors were pushing through the layers of grunge and time.
 

The mural began at the beginning of the story. The rock tower was there and at its base the People were depicted in the early times. Mouse remembered his mother and father telling him of the early times, before the dragon gave them the first spark.

The early people lived with the void all around them. There was no light of any kind. It was a terrible time. They lived in the forest. They lived in caves and mud huts. The early people were violent. They existed in small bands of tribes and hunting groups. They fought each other for what little they could get their hands on. They lived with a constant fear of attack.

When things were at their worst and the early people were close to extinction, a dragon came to them and brought them fire.

He was there in the mural, atop the rock tower. His enormous wings were fully open. In his talons he held a ball of fire. He held it above a pile of wood that had been gathered at the request of the beautiful beast. His name was Bookmarque.

He was given that name by his brothers and sisters because he was destined to hold a very special place in the story of the People.

Mouse remembered his parents telling him that many people didn’t believe in the Dragon Spark story anymore. They believed that the People discovered fire on their own. They believed that the People brought themselves out of the void. Mouse liked the story. He wasn’t sure if it was true or not. He believed that the truth was somewhere in the middle of both tellings.

Next to the tower and progressing around the room were images of the rebirth of the People. The spark was more than just the fire. Before the dragon came, the People did not speak. They made sounds. They sang. He taught them to draw those sounds. Bookmarque brought the People knowledge and imagination. He gave them the gifts of language and writing and mathematics.

The dragon taught these lessons atop the rock tower. When he finished providing his offerings he vanished. Never to be seen again. The People then learned to use their gifts in his absence.

They learned to hunt and harvest and store. They began to reason. They grew out of their separations and became one people. They began to create and design. Music and art flourished. Then they began to build. They built homes and gathering places. They didn’t stop until the village was formed.

It took several generations, and the People still lived with the void all around them, but they overcame it and launched themselves into the next phase of their evolution.

 
The depictions of the growth of the People ended at the base of another rock tower that was opposite the first. On it was the castle with its beacon ablaze. At its entrance stood Elias Darke. He was shown in his favorite attire, an all white suit of clothes with a thin black tie. A ball of light was floating between his outstretched hands.

 
Wrapping around the rest of the room and between the two towers was the endless black of the void. When Elias Darke sat at his table, he had the history of the People behind him, the two towers at each side and the intrigue of the void facing him.

A person sitting in this chair would see a man and his people. Elias would see endless possibilities.

This was an ingeniously designed round room.

Other than the mural, the table, the hourglass, the chair and Mouse, this room was vacant of any other sign of life. Except for the Fetcher, whose presence could be felt even though he couldn’t be seen.

Whether the Fetcher is alive or not has been a matter of great debate for quite some time in the Darke. That’s what the rather unique students of this very particular institution called it. The Darke.

The Fetcher, if he could be categorized, would be the Dean of Student Discipline here in the Darke. In truth he was many things and in many places all at once.

The alumni of this place feared him at first, and then learned to live in terror at the mere mention of his name. His arrival meant you thought of something, had an idea, or worse, you thought of someone you love and miss. A sentimental memory could make you a prisoner of one very quickly.

The still enrolled student body in the Darke feared him at first, and then learned to outsmart him. It wasn’t easy. It took a great deal of control and concentration. It cost them their freedom.

One of the Fetcher’s favorite punishments was to take an offending child and make them kneel in the corner of a pure dark room. Left alone in a room with no light, a person’s imagination begins to wander. The student would be given a sense of freedom. Then the Fetcher would fetch you back.

The freedom was snatched away and replaced with an empty feeling in the pit of your stomach.

It wasn’t the time in the corner that was hard, it was the time after. One would be sullen. One would cry. One would face it and walk away stronger. The student body in the Darke called this chastisement Fears Corner.

Mouse had been waiting forever staring at that desk and chair. He was practicing his control and concentration while he sat. He was waiting for the founder and head monster of this very particular institution. The creepy little man child that was born here. The twisted little mind that imagined a place with no imagination.

Mouse could now hear something ticking but there was nothing else in the room. He turned and looked. The Fetcher was standing behind him against the wall. The ticking stopped. Mouse looked away from him. The ticking started again. Mouse smirked. It’s always a game with the Fetcher.

The smirk fell away from his face as he remembered, it was always a game with the Fetcher but it was always a game with a purpose. He listened carefully to the ticking. It was fading. In its place Mouse could hear footsteps. Little footsteps from behind the wall next to where the Fetcher was standing.

A door opened in the mural wall. There was no one behind it. There was just the sound of footsteps, the tap of a cane and a cough. There was a pause, then a groan and a cough. The footsteps and the tapping began again and a shadow appeared on the wall of the doorway. The footsteps grew louder and the shadow grew larger.

But just for a moment.

The shadow began to shrink as Oracle Darke turned the corner. The footsteps stopped as he stood in the open doorway and glared at Mouse.

Mouse quickly turned away and faced forward. No student in the Darke had ever laid eyes on him. No student had ever spoken to him. No student except for his best friend, Connie.

In all the time they had been together in the Darke, she only spoke of her talks with Oracle Darke once. She asked Mouse never to ask her about it again. He never did. As the head monster’s footsteps started again, Mouse started wishing he had asked her what she had learned about him from those private lectures.

Oracle Darke walked past Mouse to the table.

He had very long, very straight, very white hair. It was taut to his scalp and tied tightly, just above his collar, with a black ribbon. The rest was allowed to hang straight down to his waist. With his back to him he laid his cane down on its surface and slowly turned to face his errant student.