(a sestina in amphibrachic tetrameter)

It feels like forever I’ve been on the job.

Pinned down by the weight of my gun and my badge,

my duty is etched there, to serve and protect.

The uniforms tape off the scene of the crime

at this point, there still isn’t much to report,

It promises to be one hell of a night.

My partner and I will work into the night;

It’s on days like this I truly hate my job.

The worst part of all is the daily report,

Complete with the number and name from my badge

I lay out the facts of a hideous crime.

The victim is gone; one we failed to protect.

Now my reputation I have to protect.

From hero to scapegoat - it just takes one night;

a free-roaming villain, or one unsolved crime.

To close every case is the goal of the job,

the reason each day that I put on the badge.

I wish I could put that inside the report.

The televised anchors all love to report

to viewers - the public I’ve sworn to protect -

The slightest mistake by one who wears the badge.

The airwaves are filled with bad news every night,

I wish that good news was a part of their job

Like how, with hard work, we usually solve the crime.

I shudder recalling details from this crime;

gunfire - In my mind, I hear its report.

Deductive pretending is part of my job.

Sometimes sanity becomes hard to protect

when facing this ugliness night after night.

Emotions grow cold when you’re wearing the badge.

My life? A lot simpler before the gold badge.

Back then it was mostly stopping petty crime,

And helping my neighbors sleep better at night.

I still had to fill out each detailed report,

the public I still did my best to protect;

promotions happen when you’re good at your job.

"Now, wearing my badge is more than just a job,"

I repeat this each night as I write my report.

“By solving these crimes, my whole world I protect.”

© 2017 - dustygrein

**Note: The sestina is arguably one of the most difficult poetry forms to work in, but you can tell quite a story within its 39 lines. This one is dedicated to my cousin, a homicide detective in Seattle, WA, and all the men and women whose life is one of service to us all.

For the friends I made

For the ones I would have

For the things I learned

For the things I would have

For everything and nothing

For time well spent

For the place that was home

I thank my good fortune

I stepped into Prose

I shall not spill a tear

For I shall leave you with smiles

May you write so brilliantly

That the Universe gasps in awe

May you make friends for a lifetime

And forever more...

Nate was beyond excited taking a night stroll with the girl of his dreams, in the park.

But, he had not fully understood what she was really capable of, and to make things worse, tonight was a full moon-she wouldn't have any control over her actions once the transformation began.

I yearn to grab handfuls of control

and throw them wildly to the winds,

unzipping my jacket of solitude,

escaping my alienation in puffs of smoke,

tearing open my ribcage to let blood flow,

exposing my veined soul for world to see,

awareness oozing freely in the truth.

Dancing fearlessly on pin head of control,

bending and melding with cool breezes,

unshackling handcuffs imposed by others,

uncurling my tongue and letting it wander,

unraveling chaos to escape stark madness,

loosening grip to undo restrictions of past,

casting off blindfolds to see light illuminate.

Splitting foundations of backward progress

into pieces, releasing the womb of mystery,

water seeping through roadblocks to its source.

I can’t force the sun to come out tomorrow

or the black storm clouds to dissipate in life,

won’t bow down to false images of control,

throwing out limits of faulty expectations.

You deserve better

     I wield my pen

     polish your beauty

     mirror your soul

     coddle it on paper

You deserve better

     I inscribe your scars

     with angel’s breath

     wrap you in loving words

     meant to embrace

You deserve better

     I understand your pain

     bedeck in gauzy words

     draw the butterscotch moon

     to radiate on your face

You deserve better

     My words breathe for you

     to give you respite

     erasing the smudges

     that tarnish your life

You deserve better

     I autograph a tranquil mind

     expose you to a gossamer life

     draw the inner art of you

     let you find your sacred place.

i smile more now that Ive completely

burnt out; raw ends sear but this one

sizzles. tv static

to entertain my mind

have you ever touched yourself

with a vibrator so long fire

numbed to ache

This feels the same.

i smile more now-

angels need that sort of thing;

laughter and

billowing white comforters

and being told they are loved

that they with their

sixty-watt hazy-haloes are enough,

that in my mind I am not searching for brighter lights.

i smile more now

because it sells the lie

“Why is Jimmy running around naked outside?” Anne asked her husband as she smiled innocently.

She knew darn well! Her husband had come home early that day without warning her. She had bolted upright from her tangled bed, had thrown Jimmy off her body, and told him he had to leave. Jimmy ran to the second story bedroom window, leaping to the ground, twisting his ankle. Butt naked, he limped down the street, pausing only to catch his breath.

Anne’s husband, John, laughed as he saw him trying to escape down the street. “He must have been in bed with some housewife! This ought to teach him.”

How did John come to that conclusion? Well, he had come home even earlier than Anne realized, having a delicious romp with her best friend who lived down the street. Anne’s best friend, Jenny, was the wife of Jimmy. Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!

Lonely boy was bullied -

brunt of mean remarks.

It was an accident, I swear.

He went to funeral,

making sure tormentor

was cushioned

safely in casket.

Child put his head down

pretending to cry.

It was the end of the week on a Friday when I answered my telephone. Even before I picked up my phone, I felt that I could feel the sense of urgency to its demanding rings. I considered letting it continue to ring and leaving the office for the weekend, but in a job like mine, I knew that it could be an emergency with one of my psychiatric patients. I really wanted to go home to my cozy apartment and have a stiff drink since it had been a difficult week for me. I pictured and imagined the smell of the warm pot roast that my housekeeper had left in my oven. I hadn’t had time to eat any lunch and was ravenous.

“Hello,” I said into the mouthpiece, trying not to show my annoyed feelings. “This is Dr. Cohen.”

“Dr. Cohen, this is Jade. I just needed to hear your reassuring voice. I am feeling shaky and a little unhinged. The last couple of months have been challenging for me.”

I felt a tremor of concern course through my body upon hearing Jade’s voice. She seldom called me with good news. “Jade, is anything wrong? Where are you? Is your husband okay?” I really hated to ask these questions but believed that I needed to get to the bottom of Jade’s obvious emotional state. At the same time, I felt a little aroused as I waited for her tale to begin to unfold. Jade took the actions that were only ‘pie in the sky’ for me. My admiration for Jade began to increase as I saw her reach for her dreams once again. I could imagine such things but I did not have the guts to follow through. One day, I hoped to let my inhibitions go.

“Oh, Dr. Cohen, I am no longer in North Dakota and I am no longer with my husband.”

“Did you get a divorce or are you separated?” I asked hopefully, needing her to assure me that he was still in the land of the living. However, I knew that this was unlikely.

“My beloved husband, Jim, had a terrible accident. The bed of a truck came down suddenly and crushed him to death. Please don’t think it was my fault – it was an accident. The truck mechanism malfunctioned and slammed down on him. The insurance company admitted that the truck was defective and settled out of court,” Jade promised with muffled sobs. “I am so upset and will miss him so terribly.”

I really did not believe Jade entirely but she was so convincing. I knew that I must give her the benefit of the doubt. And she did sound very distressed and troubled. “Jade, are you all right? I am so sorry. I know that you really seemed to like this husband. Where are you? Would you like to come in to see me? Is there anything else bothering you that you want to talk about?” In my heart, I wanted Jade to be a normal person and I couldn’t help but care about her. She had been my patient for a long time and I felt a connection to her. Her downward erosion seemed to be pulling my values down to her levels and I couldn’t do anything about it. I also was beginning to become sexually aroused by the tales of her exploits, although I did not want to admit my shortcomings.

“I had to get away from North Dakota after the tragedy,” informed Jade. “I am in the sunshine in Miami Beach trying to get back to normal. I need this time to rest and recuperate and can’t get in to see you now. But there is something I need to discuss with you. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course, Jade,” I reassured her. “Is something bothering you other than the tragic death of your husband?”

“Dr. Cohen, I am still having feelings of paranoia. I am sure that some sinister person is watching me and wants to do me harm. He seems to be inside my mind, making me believe that he is responsible for the hardships and pain in my life. Is this a just a figment of my imagination or is this really happening to me? I try not to have these feelings but they are beginning to overcome me. They seem to persist day and night and I find it hard to go on with my life.”

“My plan is beginning to work,” I thought. “Soon Jade will be completely consumed by her paranoia. I think that she will eventually be unable to function and I won’t have to take any drastic actions. The course of her behavior needs to stop and I must become the master manipulating his puppet.” My slight body seemed to expand and become more powerful as I took charge of my patient.

“Jade,” I assured her, “if you think something is so, it is true in your mind. You must avoid the conduct that brings on your paranoia. It might be reaching the time that you need to take yourself away from the world to a place where you can be helped and medicated. Do you think that now is the time when you feel ready for this kind of solitude and peace from your thoughts?” I smiled as I thought of having Jade in my complete control where she would have no choice but to cater to my every whim. “Yes,” I thought, “an institution would be perfect for her and I could see her whenever I wanted.”

I listened as Jade’s mood completely changed from darkness to light.

“Dr. Cohen, I am fine,” she chirped with a lilt in her voice. “I was just feeling some doubts and needed to hear your voice. I feel much better now. Thanks for helping me and talking to me. I will keep in touch with you.” She had dismissed me summarily, as if my advice had no merit.

Hearing the phone disconnect, I held the phone in my hand, unable to put it down. I was overcome by a feeling of apprehension. I was angry that she did not listen to my advice. A chill convulsed my body but I knew that I could do no more. Maybe in the future, Jade would be more amenable to my suggestions. If not, I would have to do whatever I could to stop her. I really did not want to do what I feared would be necessary.

_____________________________________________________________________

Title:  Jade Murder Without Remorse

Genre: Psychological Thriller 

Age Range:  Adult from 18 to 80

Word Count this write: 1100 words Book Word Count 64987 words

Author Name:  Pen Name: Sari Lantana Real Name: Claire Grebin

Why a good fit: This book would be a good fit because it is an exciting psychological thriller which would appeal to many readers.  It has a very unique twist that no one will be able to foresee. It is very well researched and delves into psychological aberrations.

The hook:  The subject of this book is a psychopathic murderer.  The book delves into what caused her to be this way and is seen through a psychiatrist's eyes. Every murder draws the reader in but the conclusions reached will not be what is expected.

synopsis: Escape into the realm of the beautiful, psychopathic Jade who commands both love and hate as she charges forward in many twists and turns, engineering novel ways to kill her four husbands. Become immersed in the world of renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Cohen, who is conducting a research study on psychopaths, hoping to understand them and prevent them from treading on dangerous paths. The story of Jade is told as seen through the eyes of Dr. Cohen. But Dr. Cohen has a hidden, devious aspect as he finds himself becoming involved in a symbiotic relationship with Jade. Against his better judgment, he finds himself wishing that he had the courage to take a risk and explore the dark side as his patient does. Will he have the courage to step over the line? The suspense mounts to a conclusion that will be both shocking and unexpected. Ride this thrilling adventure into the uncharted future because the ending will prove challenging and out of the realm of imagination of even the most astute.

Target Audience:  Adults of any age.

Bio Platform:  I am a self-taught writer, college educated and have a background of owning and operating a dive boat charter business from Miami to the Bahamas where I saw many unusual situations and interesting characters which made me want to write my first book, Bahama Red, Intrigue on the High Seas, which is based loosely on my experiences.  I now have a second book, Jade Murder Without Remorse, and am working on my third book, Half of Me is Missing, which will tie back to my book, Jade Murder Without Remorse.  My books are published as e-books. I write on Prose daily and am number one on their popularity list so have many followers.

Personality:  I am creative in most areas such as my writing and I also paint and sell my work.  I love adventure and like to incorporate it into my books.  I love to walk, do aerobics, go to the gym and I also like to socialize. I have a love for the sea and often include it in my work.  I am lucky enough to live in a little seaside town which feeds my passion.  I love to research my books so that the reader will become fascinated but not feel overwhelmed by pedantic facts.  I love to fool the reader so the ending will be completely unexpected.

Likes/Hobbies:  I write, paint, sew, enjoy friends, fish, like the beach, enjoy exercise, prolific reader.

Hometown:  Flagler Beach, Florida

Chapter 12 – Hell on Earth

As we left the plane and walked to customs many hugs were shared among the passengers. Nervous apprehension surrounded me as we left customs and headed into the airport to find the promoter. I wasn’t expecting to see TV cameras and journalists in the greeting area to interview people from the “lost flight”. There were even a couple of entertainment writers waiting to talk with the Americans.

“Sir, what would have to say to the president of the airline who is standing over there?” I was asked.

“I’d ask him if Mickey or Donald was helping run the airline.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well the entire situation was handled in a Mickey Mouse way. We were left in the dark. It was cartoonish.”

The promoter grabbed me by the arm and hastily pulled all three of us into a waiting car.

“Was it that bad?” his cute assistant asked.

“It was far worse that that. I’ll tell you over drinks later.”

“I look forward to it.” she said with a big smile. 

The promoter pointed to sights along the way and lots of nice buildings and big homes. Conversely there were mostly older cars and people wore out-of-date clothes. The few black people we saw really looked bad. On the other side of the freeway were weather-beaten dwellings. There wasn’t much going on over there.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s Soweto. It’s not as bad as you’ve been told.”

“Well, it looks pretty bad to me.”

“Our blacks have it better than anywhere else in Africa.”

“You said we were going to be able to use black and white musicians and singers. Is that still happening?”

“Yes. You’ll meet some of them tonight at Alfie’s club.”

“Alfie’s club has the best music and great food.” his assistant offered.

Greg piped in, “I’m looking forward to meeting the people who will be helping us.”

“You’ll be impressed,” the promoter said proudly. “We’re almost at the hotel.”

The area we were entering resembled Westwood Village in Los Angeles. Lots of trees, nice shops and apartment buildings dotted the streets. As we pulled up to the hotel, two black bellmen came out with a white guy. The white guy led us into the lobby. The General Manager and his assistant waited for us at the desk.

The GM came over, “Welcome to the Claridge. I am Klaus Verhooven. I am the General Manager. If there is anything at all you need while you are here, please let me know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Verhooven.”

“Please call me Klaus.” He said as he led us to the desk. “This is Anton, my assistant.

Katie is our Front Desk Manager. They are here to help you as well.”

Katie was beautiful, tall slender and amazing eyes. She organized all the paperwork we needed to sign to check-in, “Mr. Karlsruher, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Please call me Rick and thank you.”

“Everything gets billed to me. In fact, have them all checked-in under my name,” the promoter told Katie.

“Certainly.” Anton said as he handed the promoter all the paperwork.

It took the promoter and his assistant Anya a few minutes to fill out all registration documents. I guessed they wanted to keep our names off the books to avoid any potential problems or keep the press away. After they did, I asked, “Katie could you get me a copy of everything for my records.”

“I’ll have it done in about fifteen minutes, if that’s soon enough. I’ll have it all in an envelope for you here at the desk.”

“Thank you.”

Klaus and Anton joined Anya and the promoter in the elevator with us. There was plenty of room for the bellmen to ride up with us, but they were forced to take another elevator. They got to our floor before we did. One took Greg and Betty to their room. The other came with Klaus, Anya and me to my room. A few steps from the room, one of bags slipped off the cart. Instinctively, I reached to pick it up.

Klaus looked stunned, “Please no. That’s what we have those people for sir.”

I was stunned. Yeah, if blacks were treated better than we heard as the promoter kept telling us, this didn’t show it. Klaus opened the door and showed into the room. The bellman put my bags into the closet leaving the small one on a bench by the bed. I reached to tip him and saw a bizarre custom we would see from now on in South Africa. The bellman grasped his wrist with one hand as his other hand opened and his head was tilted down so as not to look directly at me. I intentionally over tipped the bellman to overcome the slight paid him on the way to the room. Klaus opened the drapes to show a panoramic view of the entire city.

“Is everything to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Then I’ll be going.” Klaus said as he left and closed the door.

Anya smiled. “I guess I’ll be leaving, too. This looks very comfortable.”

“Yes, it does. Tonight should be fun.”

“I think it will be.” She said moving closer to me. She put her arm around my waist, leaned over and kissed me. She moved away, then back to me and kissed me again. “It does look comfortable.”

As I walked her to the door, she turned and we kissed again this time with tongues. Tonight was looking very good indeed. She left.

I unpacked a bit and went down to the front desk to get my copies of the check-in materials. Arriving at the desk, Katie came out motioning me to have a seat in the lobby.

“I wanted to explain everything to you,” she said as we sat. She spread the papers on the table.

“It doesn’t sound like you are from South Africa.”

“I’m from Kenya, but there isn’t much opportunity for me there.”

“As nice and smart as you seem to be, I find that hard to believe.”

She blushed, “Thank you so much, but we don’t have many hotels in Nairobi where I'd have the possibility for advancement.”

“I like your ambition.”

Her smile and her eyes lit up the room as she explained all the sign-in materials.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but you came a long way alone. You’re not married?” she asked with a smile.

“No, and I think my girlfriend broke up with me just before we left.”

“She’s not very bright.”

I was blushing, “Thank you.”

Yes, we were flirting. It was innocent, but it was also great. I think she noticed I was puzzled.

“It looks like you have a fan in Anya.”

“I might, but I don’t get it. We barely said three words. To be honest, I am a little uncomfortable. I hope she’s not setting me up. That could pose problems.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Several people walked in together from a minivan. There was only one other person behind the desk.

“It looks like your friend might need your help.”

She shrugged, “I guess so.”

She was amazing and so nice. I knew there was great potential for headaches here. How to navigate these obviously treacherous waters baffled me. Anya wanted me and if I screwed this up she could make my stay extremely uncomfortable. Why did Katie have to show up?

Anya picked us up at about 8 PM. Katie had left by then. Anya came directly to my room. She did look really good. We spent about half an hour fooling around before going to get Greg and Betty. I felt really bad about that. I was thinking about Katie.

Alfie’s club was on a bizarre street. The street was surrounded by walled homes. Part of the sidewalk was a boardwalk similar to the one in Atlantic City. The rest was very old cement. The stores were old and rundown. Through the windows, you could see empty shelves. What was for sale appeared old and patched together. The outside world’s economic sanctions were choking South Africa.

Alfie’s place was tired and dingy. The bar was more of a counter-top than a real bar. Each table was different than the next and no two chairs seemed to match. The clientele was mixed which shocked me. What was more surprising were the pictures on the walls. They included Mick Jagger, John Lennon, Hugh Masekela and many others hung in the dusty room. This was long before Photoshop. I couldn’t believe all those superstars would be able to find this hole in the wall.

As I looked around, the steaks looked good, but It didn’t look like they had more than one bottle of each kind of booze, a few bottles of wine and a refrigerator containing a couple of cases of beer. There were lots of people here. Was Alfie going to run out of booze? I was very confused. Alfie’s didn’t seem to have enough product for this big a crowd.

Shortly after we sat down, the promoter leaned over to me, “You’ve had a tough trip. I think you should take two days off to get your bearings and get over the jet lag.”

“Do we have the time?”

“It’s better to wait a couple of days than to do it over.”

“That sounds good. Thanks.”

A young black kid and an older white guy went up on stage with guitars. The white guy started playing some tasty, jazzy blues riffs. He was so smooth. The kid couldn’t have been more than 16-18 or so. I figured it was teacher and student. The kid mirrored the older guy’s riffs but with a little more rock flavor. The kid slowed down and looked at his guitar. He tapped with his fingers. He tapped the strings. Then he stretched them a little. I don’t know what he did next but instantaneously his guitar soared. The place erupted. He went higher and higher. The old guy started playing co-lead. It was beyond amazing.

I looked at the promoter, “Please tell me these guys are going to play with us.”

He smiled, “The night after tomorrow you’ll hear your drummer, bass and horns.”

“Are they this good?”

“Yes.”

I was very happy. A large black man came over to the table with an Indian woman. The promoter stood up and greeted him. “Rick, this is my friend Lefty. He went to university in America.”

“Nice to meet you, Lefty. Where did you go to school?”

“I got an MBA from Harvard.”

“Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

He started laughing, “I’ll answer it before you ask it. I came home to train the next generation of blacks so that some of us will be ready when apartheid ends.”

“Doesn’t that make you a marked man?”

“Well, I represent several white companies who want to do business in the townships.”

“Do your employers or the police know what else you do?”

“I keep the two separate and I make the distilleries I represent a lot of money. Would you like to come to Soweto tomorrow night?”

“Is it safe for me?”

“I’ll call the hotel and meet you in the lobby.”

He saw my nervousness,” I don’t know how to put this...”

“How can a black man get into your hotel if he isn’t an employee?”

“Are you psychic?”

Lefty laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m not black.”

I think Lefty was the blackest person I have ever met, “What?”

“You see, I have two white great grandmothers. That makes me colored.”

Anya, the promoter, Lefty and his girlfriend were all laughing at my confusion.

His girlfriend tried to explain, “Indians and coloreds have rights Africans don’t. Lefty and I can travel if we are willing to wait.”

Lefty entered, “Hospitals and schools are much better for coloreds than for Africans.”

“Do I even want to know how people know the difference?”

“Being American you won’t like it,” Lefty explained, “It’s on your birth certificate and identity papers. It follows you all your life and you can’t change it. People try to buy colored birth certificates. It also lets you live in better places.”

I was shaking my head. “Aren’t there about ten times as many blacks as whites in South Africa?”

Lefty laughed, “Now you are making yourself a target. They have all the guns and we can’t vote…yet. So, would you like to join me and see how the other part of South Africa lives?”

The promoter wasn’t happy about this turn of events, but I had to do it. If it were very dangerous or if I could get into trouble, wouldn’t the promoter or Anya jump in to stop me?

“I’d like to do that Lefty.”

Lefty nodded respectfully to me. That made my night.

The steak was wonderful, and the music continued to be great. Several other people sat in and a wonderful black lady sang. It was an incredible night.

As it got later, Anya’s hands found several parts of me. One under the table, the other had her fingers running through my hair. Normally, I’d be loving it knowing what was inevitably about to happen. I didn’t know how to stop it short of faking being sick.

Was I really falling for Katie? How could I explain this to her tomorrow? Katie saw what was going on with Anya and seemed to try to understand. But would she understand me coming back to the hotel the next morning or Anya leaving when Katie was working? It’s one thing to talk about something like this in the abstract. Even a great person would have significant challenges to be accepting of activities like the ones that were about to happen if they would see them up close.

Was the good part of me finding its way through the fear and despair? Could I break through the fog that was enveloping me?

I can’t make any excuses for spending the night with Anya. I did it. That’s what happened. She had to be at work early and dropped me off at the hotel before Katie got to work. I went to my room, took a shower and went to sleep. A few hours later I woke up and called Greg’s room. He wasn’t there. I had to go through the lobby on the way to the pool to find him. As I got there, Katie was going on a break. She motioned for me to meet her outside.

We met on the street on the street a couple of doors down. Her smile was brilliant. I had trouble looking her in the eye. She leaned over and held my hand.

“It’s OK.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s scary down here. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do.”

I held her hand tighter and laughed, “Would going to Soweto tonight with a black guy fall into that category?”

“Please be careful. But you want to see it for yourself, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“I’ve got to get back to work. Please be careful.” She leaned over and we kissed sweetly and briefly.

Chapter 13 – Seeing The Real South Africa

“You aren’t actually dumb enough to go to Soweto are you?” Greg asked.

“Yes, Lefty is coming by in a couple of minutes.”

“My uncle can’t protect you there.”

“Right.”

“You don’t think we have protection down here.”

“I’m not sure. This isn’t like California or New York or even Europe.”

This was the first time I had seen Greg off his game. I kept thinking about how odd it was. Greg took off.

Within a couple of minutes, Lefty came into the lobby to get me.

“Are you sure you want to join me tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t think any less of you if you don’t.”

“I gave you my word.”

“You don’t have to be macho. You will hear things and see things you’ve never seen. You’ve got a good heart. Some of this will hurt you. I’m here if you need me.”

That frightened and soothed me. What was I about to see and hear? There was a three-year-old top-of-the-line BMW out front.

“Is that yours?”

“One of mine.” Lefty said chuckling.

“How?”

“I went to Harvard,” he said slapping me on the back.

We got into the car and started our drive.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Thinking he was talking about, Anya I responded, “Not really. I can’t figure out how not to be involved with her.”

“Not the girl from last night; the one who works at the hotel.”

“How the hell did you know that?”

“It was in her eyes as you left. I understand your dilemma. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Remind me never to play poker with you.”

“Get ready. We are about to enter our hell. Remember hell is a location, not the people who are forced to be in that location.”

He was being very serious. He truly loved the people of Soweto. It’s the only explanation of why he stays when he doesn’t have to. Within less than a mile we went from world-class freeway to potholed streets and ending on an uneven gravel and dirt road. How could this happen so quickly? If this were the overt face of the community, what could be lurking out of sight?

There were burned out cars and junk on the street. We went past hovels. I felt myself getting ill. Lefty saw my face and body language. He patted me on the back.

“It will get better, but there is worse.”

“Worse than this?”

“Much worse. You couldn’t handle it. The world knows but doesn't want to tell the whole truth.”

“How...”

He cut me off, “There are evil people. Like it or not, there are many of them in this country.”

We turned off onto a semi-paved road. Soon there were small but basically clean yards. Clean in comparison to the hell we had just seen. These people tried.

Lefty turned into a driveway. There were lots of people in the yard. I heard laughter and music. Getting out of the car, I saw a lady sitting at a card table with a cigarette box taking money.

“What’s this?”

“The government won’t allow us to have bars in our own townships. This is what we call a shebeen. It’s like a moving club or party. The person whose home we use charges a small fee to pay for the food and liquor. Hopefully, they will make a small profit. Every penny is huge here.”

“The government won’t even let you have your own bars?”

“They are doing everything they can to keep us from building an African middle class. The government understands how dangerous that could be.”

Lefty paid our fee. We went into the living room. People were eating, drinking and having fun. My presence startled a lot of them. Lefty laughed.

“This is my friend from America. His name is Rick. He bravely wanted to see our township for himself rather than listening to the Dutch tell him how phenomenal it is.”

There were cheers, which made me very self-conscious. An older man brought me a drink and welcomed me to his son’s house.

A man about thirty approached, “Are you the American from the paper?”

“What are you talking about, sir?”

A lady said, “You were on the front page of the Joburg newspaper with your comments about your flight. It’s was very funny.”

Lefty was laughing, “I didn’t know I was bringing a star. What did you say?”

“Given the fact it took three days to fly from Brussels to Joburg, I asked if Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck happened to be running the airline.”

Lefty was laughing loudly, “You may have to watch your back. The Dutch don’t like people talking to them the way you did.”

A couple of other people clapped. Others stopped by to welcome me and tell me they would look after me. I was really touched. Some of these people clearly had little to nothing but they were willing to help a stranger.

“It’s not a game, young man,” an elegantly mannered old man said to me. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Understand what, sir?”

“For instance, calling me “sir” would make you a target to any white who heard you.”

“No.”

Lefty looked over. He was quite serious, “Jambo is right. Forget compassion, forget manners, and for your own safety you must think more like they do. We will understand.”

“You can do more quietly listening and taking our stories home with you. Tell them to all who will listen.”

“But I’m a nobody back home.”

“We are nobodies here. Who better to tell our story?” A very old lady said quietly.

Soon the party was breaking up. I received lots of hugs and wishes of good luck. Lefty and I got into the car to head back to the hotel.

“You can’t let anyone see you like this ever while you are here.”

“Why?”

“It won’t be safe. Your story while in South Africa is that you went with me to my cousin’s house for dinner and a few drinks.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You have to do this. You can’t even tell the kid you brought with you. The reality is I’d bet at least one person in the shebeen was a paid Security Police informant.”

“You are talking crazy.”

Lefty pulled the over to the side of the road. “Not listening to me is crazy. You may have been active in all sorts of protests in college in the US. If you did one here, you could end up dead. Please Rick, listen to me. I know asking you to do this is wrong. But you are my friend. Please let me look out for you while you are in my country.”

This scared me more than anything I had ever heard. I was trembling. “I went to your cousin’s house. We had dinner and drinks.”

“Thank you.”

It was still early when we got back to the hotel. I followed the company line at breakfast the next morning with Greg, Betty, the promoter and Anya. It was difficult, but I did it.

A little while later Greg and I decided to walk the few blocks to downtown. All of a sudden, I heard the screeching of tires and brakes. Then there was the unmistakable thud of a car hitting a person, then another person, then a light pole. I looked up to see a minivan wrapped around a pole. Two white people were on the ground. Several cops appeared out of nowhere. They helped those two victims. A black lady was on the ground bleeding. Three cops surrounded her. They didn’t help her. Ambulances helped the white people and the driver. The black lady was bleeding and crying.

“Aren’t you going to help her? She might die. Make a tourniquet at least.”

“Move along, kaffir lover. You don’t expect me to touch that, do you?”

I was on the verge of attacking the cops. Greg grabbed me and pulled me as hard as he could. I was sick. I was trembling. I pushed him away and ran. I just ran.

I had seen the pure evil all those people told me about last night. They told me so matter-of-factly that it seemed surreal. We were living in the last quarter of the twentieth century. This couldn’t be happening.

To this day, I still cannot fathom the level of their indoctrinated madness and evil. It was incomprehensible to anyone with a soul.

I had to be perfect. My first test was upon me. Katie was working. I tried to hide my pain and revulsion.

“Hi.” She was beaming. Then she looked at me, ran from behind the counter and dragged me into an office. “What happened?”

I couldn’t say anything. I tried, but nothing came out of my mouth.

“You saw the accident.”

“Yep.”

She hugged me. I could feel her tears on my neck.

I remember my body giving way as we hugged. To this day, I break into a cold sweat thinking about that morning. I still can’t comprehend the level of inhumanity I saw that morning.

Personal Data:

Better Late Than Never

Reality, memoir ties in with with another fiction title

70,000 words

Rick Karlsruher

Trident represents many true life stories that show the world to readers and include famous people in them.

The hook is life is truly stranger than fiction – another hook is you can get another book that is naturally paired with this one that is about a very hot topic in the world that is 100% opposite of this book. We can pair an outrageously humorous book with this terrifying true story.

A Story Almost Told tells of my real life odyssey trying to get a movie made. It starts out innocently and has many famous people innocently involved. Included in the story are stories that are individually amazing, but taken, in toto, defy any logic or rationality. From the beginning, it is amazing. The IRS and FBI use my dream as bait in a sting. We get to see the true horrors of apartheid in South Africa and immediately thereafter the opulence of Monte Carlo and even being arrested in New Orleans. There is much more.

The Target audience is anyone who enjoys excitement, seeing different places and real life. 

I’d say the age group is 21+.

I have had an interesting life. I have done writing, music producing and international marketing. I even started a website to help new/undiscovered authors that has had over 6,000,000 page views.

As a platform, I have about 1700 Twitter followers, an email list of about 8000. I am an amazing interview. With Trident’s access and the publisher’s web, we’ll make both books major hits and likely get movie deals.

I have a degree in communications from Wake Forest University.

My style is conversational. I draw people into the story and make them think they are there. I’ve been told my personality is a bigger than life.

I love sports, movies, comedy, reading, music and being with people.

I live in Huntington Beach, CA.