Trip was a dangerous man, as is any man on a mission from God. He was filled with righteous anger and single mindedly bent on dispensing justice to the wicked. He was no saint himself, and he knew it, but it didn't take a saint, to know right from wrong. His heart was his compass, and it was leading him to a place where he could find forgiveness for the blood on his soul. Mickey had an appetite for blood. From its silky texture to its coppery taste, he knew its flavor intimately. His palette was finely tuned to weed the good from the bad, the infected from the pure. He was looking for just the right girl, a girl untainted and unspoiled, in a world where innocence was all but lost. His own purity and innocence was not in question. Those facts were as certain as his sanity, and nothing was going to stand between him and the girl of his dreams. Jenny was a regular girl. She was living a regular life. There was nothing strange or abnormal about anything she did. She liked Hannah Montana, Miranda Cosgrove, and Taylor swift. She loved her mom and dad, and her grandparents too. She was kind and respectful and considerate of others. She was innocent and pure and completely naïve...but all that was before she found the head... before her very mind began to unravel. The truth is never as easy black or white.
About the Author: I was born in Dallas Oregon, a small town several miles west of Salem. My early years were full of turmoil and strife as my parents divorced and my two older brothers moved away. Writing was the last thing on my mind. It was later, after my father moved me and my sister to the southern town of Roseburg, that I learned the value of the written word. I discovered it in the most unlikely of places: detention. I can't recall what it was I had done. It was something outrageous I'm sure. In those days, I was always pushing my luck, and it's a wonder I never ended up in jail. In any case, I had detention for a number of Saturdays, and I was bored almost to tears. I recall watching the student next to me; he was reading a book of massive proportions, and he didn't seem bored in the least. I took a peek at the title, and I clearly recall it was Stephen King's The Stand. The next week, I brought my own copy of The Stand to detention, and from that day forward, my world had changed. I remember how I couldn't put it down. I stayed up late into the night. I read through the weekend and skipped school on Monday just to keep on reading. I was hooked! From that day forward, I read everything I could. King, Koontz, Clark and Tolkien, Brooks, Eddings and Weis, the list goes on and on. There was only one thing missing...A novel of my own.