Body shaking, cold and clammy, heart fluttering fast to slow, he began in all his humanness to feel the slipping away. His mind filling with images, words, so many left unsaid, unwritten, and unseen in all his days before.

He knew he couldn’t find the right potion, the spiritual salve to make this life remain as the ending would happen — with or without. He’d waited all of his life for this moment, now that his time was at hand, he nearly dropped his halo as a metamorphosis of this type isn’t painless when wings unfold from between one’s shoulder blades.

For the last two days I haven’t spent as much time as I generally do writing. Instead I’ve been doing a lot of reading and when not sitting about with a favorite book, I’ve been catching up on movies I’ve not seen.

And as you’ll see, should you continue reading, I’m way, way behind in this matter…

The first one I watched is “Wind River,” with Jeremy Renner, Elizabeth Olsen (she’s gorgeous, by-the-by) and one of my all-time favorites, Graham Greene. I would add Renner to my all-time favorites list if it weren’t for the fact that he keeps playing all sorts of ‘superheroes,’ when he’s a fine actor who doesn’t need ‘special effects.’

The movie opens with the shooting of a pair of coyotes, so if you are against killing predators, I’d skip the first minute or so of this film. Further, if you are radically against gun violence, you’ll also wanna skip the last ten minutes of the show, because it is fairly spot-on.

Personally, I’m against neither, as a predator must be dealt with whether animal or human and it isn’t always pretty. And I love how justice is meted out to the true predator in this film, and in a most unusual manner.

The next flicker I watched is “Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2.” I found myself laughing quite a bit at the inside jokes and one-liners. It also surprised me somewhat to see so many well established actors playing more than simple cameos, though it would have also been cool to see Bruce Willis in it – but alas, he wasn’t.

And while I identify with ‘Rocket’ for the most part, I can’t help but enjoy getting my “Groot” on as well. By the way — ‘groot’ is Dutch for ‘large.’

Plus, I’m always blown away by ex-pro wrestler and MMA fighter Dave Bautista’s acting ability.  He’s as fun to watch as “The Rock” any day.

Finally, and I mean FINALLY – I got to see “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story.” This took me back to high school and the year the original Star Wars (now called the “New Hope,” came into theaters.)

The entire story line felt as if it were a part of the original film and made even more so by the CGI appearance of Peter Cushing, whose been dead since 1994. It was also very cool seeing Darth Vader wielding the Light Sabre once again.

It is enjoyable to see a hat-tip to ronin-Samurai Miyamoto Musashi, who in 1612 defeated Sasaki Kojiro, and is considered one of the greatest Samurai in Japan, using ‘a stick,’ he carved while en route to the fight. In the movie, Danny Yen portrays a blind warrior who believes in the force and kicks the crud out of several Stormtroopers using nothing but a ‘bo,’ or fighting staff.

But I must say the biggest surprise was in the ending. It literally took my breath away and I teared up when Carry Fisher, looking exactly as I remember her sigh from my days on the set of “Return of the Jedi,” turned and faced the camera.

Now, if you’ll please excuse me – I have some TV shows needing binge-watching.

“You’d think after 15-years, I’d have more people reading my stuff,” Dumas complained. “I see bloggers who’ve only been at it a year or two and some have hundred’s of people following their website and dozens of comment’s and ‘likes.’”

There was a pause before Jezebeth verbally stabbed him in the heart, “Have you ever thought that maybe you’re really not that good?”

With her long red finger nails, Jezebeth lifted his face and looked into Dumas’ eye’s, relishing the hurt in his voice, “The thought never crossed my mind.”

But now that it did — Dumas never wrote another word.

“Send Help,” is all the message read. Mentally, I prepare myself for whatever the challenge.

“Life can be so cheap outside the colonies” I think, mounting my Ostrichasaurus, racing out through the gate and onto the open grassy plains.

Sadly, I’ve learned there’s a greater danger in not knowing what the danger is, than whatever danger is ‘out there,’ and it’s hard not be concerned this may involve another T-Rex. The bird-beast’s jarring gait quickly turns into an all out sprint towards the border lands.

“Effin’ top hat! Third one this week!” I cuss, as it falls from my head.

When do you write? (time of day, day of week.)

Every weekday morning I get up with my wife and see her off to work. Next I grab a cup of coffee and sit myself in front of the computer. Writing takes second place as I busy myself with reading the news, other blog posts and visiting Facebook, in that order. Finally, I will write at least 100 word to begin the day. On the weekend, my schedule varies according to what else might be happening that I want to take part in.

How do you seclude yourself from the outside world?

Seclusion isn’t a need for me and write. I could be in the middle of a Los Angeles Freeway and still manage to put words down on paper. Otherwise, I spend 12-to-14 hours a day, Monday-through-Friday by myself with only our dog’s as company. From time-to-time a neighbor or a friend will stop by for a chat and a cup of coffee. Finally, I like my company so I find I’m never really alone.

How do you review what you wrote the previous day?

Much of my act is a formula. I write once, then edit again and again until I’m satisfied I have down what I want to say. So there is no ‘previous day’ for me as a rule. That isn’t to say upon reviewing something I wrote a year or two ago, that I won’t edit it again or three-times because my skill as a write has changed.

What song is your go-to when you’re feeling uninspired?

Rarely do I listen to music when I’m writing. Music is a love of mine and prefer to listen to it unencumbered. I do have my favorite genre which will give me a sense of feeling that I need to maintain when I am pursuing a story, i.e. cowboy music if I’m writing a ‘western-style’ story.

What do you always do (i.e. listen to music, read, watch YouTube, etc.) when you find yourself struggling with writer’s block?

Writer’s block is a pain in the arse, isn’t? I usually walk away for an hour or two when it happens and find something else to do. If it is persistent, I’ll grab a book and read for a while, maybe watch something on the tube (I like true crime solving shows,) or I’ll peruse the blogosphere, (a good source is WordPress Discover.)

What tools do you use when you’re writing?

Before the advent of online services, my desk would be covered with piles of notes, one or two dictionaries (including a large rhyming dictionary) and a thesaurus. Somewhere close by were a set of encyclopedias and an almanac with maps. Today, aside from general clutter of notebooks I use in the field, the world is at my finger-tips using ‘Google.’ Lastly, some of whatever I read, see, hear, feel, learn or experience will end up in a story and because of this, unless it’s pointed out to me, I have been known to accidentally steal stuff from other writers. (Do you hear that Mr. Twain?!)

What’s the one thing you can’t live without during a writing session?

That first cup of coffee. Need I say more? Didn’t think so.

How do you fuel yourself during your writing session?

Since the majority of my writing takes place between 4 am and noon, I generally don’t eat until afterwards. Since childhood, I’ve never been a big fan of breakfast. But that’s not to say I don’t enjoy a breakfast meal for dinner. One cannot get any better than that in my humble opinion.

How do you know when you’re done writing?

Oh, I’m never done writing. I’ve been writing since I was nine-years-old and it has become like second nature. One time I forgot to pack a note-book while on a cross-country road trip and because my folks were in a hurry to get where we were going, they wouldn’t stop, save for gassing up the car or a potty break. During one potty break I stole two rolls of toilet paper from the stall and scrounged a pen from under the drivers’ seat. I still feel bad for the person who followed me after I left that restroom.

It was dark and she couldn’t find her clothes, but Mariko didn’t care. She slipped from the Coven’s clubhouse wearing only her denim vest with its ‘colors’ emblazoned on the back and as the asshole who ‘roofied’ her the night before was still passed out.

In the parking lot, she slipped her getas on her feet and bare-assed climbed on ‘Broomy,’ her motorcycle. Mariko was about to leave when she spotted her black cat.

She scooped her up, putting it on the bike. “You and me need to get a better class of friends to hang with.”

Quietly, she guided ‘Broomy’ onto the street and rocketed away. A couple of miles later, her ride began to sputter and cough, so she had to stop.

And as she worked, she clicked off her personal to-do list in her head:  “Fix this, go home, grab my tanto, return, and neuter that bastard,” then aloud added, “And if I get an STD – I’m gonna do the whole effin’ coven.”

The toaster dinged as the two pieces of burnt toast jumped from their slots. “Christ almighty, couldn’t you at least have popped them out before they burned?” I complained.

He simply sat there in all of his silence. The lack of a response only made me angrier.

“All you do is sit around the house anymore. The least you could do is not let my fucking toast get ruined.”

He remained quiet.

“I don’t mean to so get angry.”

Still, he said nothing.

“It’s not the same since you left and we know it, too,” I screamed at my shadow.

And so the Raven came by night,
taking the key to Edgar’s heart far away,
to drop it into the deepest chasm could be found,
forever irretrievable.
Too long had it been hanging there,
out in the open,
for all the world to see,
for all the world to take,
to use.
Not a soul thought it worth their trouble to find what it could unlock,
and now it’s too late.
But for Poe,
it had been that Raven,
the key to his immortality even unto death that still from the chasm comes the blackened bird’s frightfilled-demon scream:
“Nevermore! Nevermore!”

They knew the lay of the land better heading south than they would going north. In fact there were several narrow canyons and ravines that they could use to evade the coming riders.

“Not only can we delay them, we can fight them from there if push comes to shove,” Brady offered.

Morning broke faster than either man liked, but they had no control over mother nature. Instead they urged their horses to move faster now that there was light to see by.

Once inside the maze of canyons and ravines, they slowed their pace and sought higher ground. Soon they could ride no more and found it necessary to guide their mounts along the narrow trails to the top of a small butte.

Eventually they made it to the top. John quickly scouted around the flattened surface and found that the way up was also the only way down, unless one climbed or fell. In the mean time, Brady yanked Billy off the back of the horse and pulled off his gag.

“You ain’t gonna live through this, you know,” Billy warned.

“Maybe we won’t, but then neither will you,” Brady reminded the young man.

“Helluva place to make a last stand,” John commented.

Brady smiled, “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”

As John slept, Brady built a small fire and boiled some water for coffee. He figured that they ought to have some comforts before the big gun battle began.

“Can I have some of that?” Billy asked.

“You gonna behave if I let you?” Brady countered.

“You have my word,” Billy answered.

Brady set about untying the young man and taking away his boots. Billy laid on his belly for a few minutes waiting for the pins-and-needles to subside before rolling over and sitting up.

Revolver in hand and cocked, Brady pour a small amount of coffee in a tin and handed it to Billy. “Not that I don’t trust you or anything.”

Billy took a sip of the hot liquid, “Thanks, mister.”

So far there was no sign of a posse, so Brady let John sleep an extra hour. After waking him, John stood guard as Brady reapplied rope bindings to Billy’s wrists and ankles.

Soon nightfall came and Brady was finally able to get some much-needed shut-eye. John sat watching Billy and quietly listening for out-of-place sounds as the sun finally sank beyond the horizon.

Brady and John traded off night watch six more times throughout the dark hours of the day. They maintained the same routine though out the daylight hours, too.

For nearly two-days they waited for the posse to come riding their way, but nothing. As noon approached that second day, Brady told John, “I’m going to go have a look around.”

Brady saddled his horse and guided the beast down the narrow trail, till he could safely mount and ride. Once outside the slots, he rode back in the direction of Bixby.

“Nothing,” he said to the horse. “I think we’ve gotten clear of the scrape.”

He reined his horse around and headed back to the butte. Once back, he suggested that they cut the kid free, give him a horse and they go their separate ways; John to the west, Brady to the east, Billy to Bixby.

As they discussed this possible plan, John asked, “How come you never asked about the gold or tied to take it.”

Smiling Brady answered, “First, it ain’t my business and second, I know what sort of trouble gold can bring a man.”

“What sort of trouble do you think Billy can get in if he had a few coins of his own?” John wondered.

“Depends on what sort of man he wants to be,” Brady offered. “Greedy like his old man or willing to invest in something and work for what he wants. Only time will tell.”

By mid-afternoon, with the camp struck and supplies divided, John left first, leaving behind a mule as he was now riding a horse. Billy and Brady sat silently watching as John disappeared over the horizon.

As nighttime fell, Brady sat beside Billy, “You’re gonna get paid for your troubles.” He opened his hand and showed the young man ten gold coins left to him by John.

“Does that mean you ain’t gonna kill me or leave me to rot up here?” Billy said with surprise.

“Nope. Gonna let you go and with a horse, too.”

“Thanks, mister.”

“Promise me one thing though, Bill.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Don’t be like your father – greedy and a bully.”

“I promise.”

Brady stood up and pulled from his pocket a Barlow. He opened the large blade and sliced through the ropes holding Billy’s ankles and wrists.

“Your boots are over there,” he said as he handed the coins to Billy.

As Billy stood and pocketed the coins, Brady stepped over to his horse and with the mule in tow, headed down the trail to the point where he could ride and headed for the canyon entrance. He was some distance away when he heard the pounding of hoofs rapidly coming his way.

He instantly recognized the rider; Billy.

“If you don’t mind mister, I’d like to tag along with you. There ain’t nothin’ left for me back in Bixby.”

“You’re welcome to come along. I could use the company,” Brady replied.

The pair nosed their horses east and slowly weaved their way through the rough scrub until darkness over took them and they had to stop for the night. A new day and a fresh start would come soon.

“You gotta plan to get us outta this?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Brady answered. “I think we ought to go under to get around them.”

John wrinkled his brow because he didn’t understand what Brady was suggesting. Brady kneeled and using his finger tips pulled a floor board up revealing the ground beneath.

Within minutes he had enough of the boards removed to allow either man to climb through. Brady disappeared into the cavernous hole only to return a minute or so later.

“We can get into the vacant building next door,” he reported.

“Then what?”

“Then we set this place on fire and escape as they do their best to save their men. Only we’ll have them with us and when we beat feet outta here we take junior with us.”

John nodded knowing he didn’t have a plan that he could claim was any better.

After having to thump one of the men in the head with the butt of his revolver, because he continued to struggle as Brady moved him, all three were finally laying on the floor of the vacant building. Both John and Brady rummaged through what was left of the stores stock and collected what they would need and could safely carry.

Next Brady began firing across the street in rapid succession, hoping that the men would begin firing back. No sooner did he squeeze the trigger than they answered with a couple of volleys of bullets.

As Brady readied to pick a gun fight, John poured several jars of kerosene on the floor and splashed several more on the walls. As the gunfire commenced, he struck a match, lighting the building ablaze.

Then both men scrambled through the hole in the floor and quickly crawled their way to the vacant next door building. They were in position to make a break out the back door by the time the general alarm sounded and smoke and flame bellowed from the store front.

“Fire!” came several cries.

“My kid’s in there,” Frost screamed as he dashed across the street and into the collapsing building.

Knowing that there might be men waiting behind the mercantile, Brady cautiously opened the back door and peered out into the darkness. He knew where his horse was and could see it from time to time as the flames from the build licked the sky.

He also needed to find John a mount and help him load the bags of gold coin he’d taken from George Keene a few days before. Taking a deep breath he calmly walked out and across the open yard into the scrub.

Evidently, every man that’d been out back, if there were any out back all, were now engaged in fighting the fire which had begun to engulf the vacant building John and the three men were in. Brady walked around to the front of the building and across the street to the shed that acted as a livery stable.

There he found John’s two mules and a couple of extra horses, still saddled. He opened the stalls that held the remaining horses and shooed them out into the street using them as cover to cross the street again.

Once at the back of the building, Brady found John having hauled the three men outside and busy stacking the bags together in preparation to load them up. As John tied down the gold and the meager supplies they salvaged, Brady laid Billy Frost across one of the horses.

Once finished, the pair turned their horses south and rode as fast as the night and the land would allow. Both knew that they were going to be chased and they needed to put as much distance between them and the posse, if it could be call such. as possible.