I am Brian Johnson, a scallywag of mythic proportions, a writer of some of life's darker things, and a photog of daring beauty. You are welcome to peruse my pages on Father Thunder and www.ruminationofthunder.com but beware, steal my wares, and find yourself bloodeagled.
In Father Thunder, you will find 12 things you really didn't need to know about me, An Interview with Micheal Bailey, my main character from "Hell to Pay"; and other assorted odds and ends. My novel, Hell to Pay is available at Amazon from Hellfire Publications and a short chapter intro to Hell to Pay called the Ballad of Mercy Tyler from Smashwords. Now enough links in the chains that will drag us to the crushing depths of Davy Jones locker.
My current WIP is called Aristid. This is the story of a supposed half-demon boy raised by a religious institution to become their ultimate weapon. For my progress, check the WIP page above.
The Aristid Chronicles
The church tower near the village of Elta sounded two low notes followed by an off key higher pitch. The gale warning echoed among the hills as, village inhabitants rushed to grab children and scan the skyline. The heavy air smelled of vegetation and rain, and its electricity caused hair to stand on end.
Mayor Blanchfield hurried though the cobblestone streets near his office frantically looking for his daughter, Maggie, who had gone to play. He spotted the small red-headed child not more than six summer’s old, playing near the fountains.
“Maggie!” Mayor Blanchfield yelled as he ran uphill toward the village center. Maggie stared at the storm frozen in fear and wonder.
He grabbed the child and ran to Shrinehall, an open but sheltered place of worship that overlooked the village. The statue of the great god, Alfodr, pointed at the storm as sunlight disappeared from the village and thunder growled. A cold wind pushed through as ominous boiling clouds stirred overheard.
Mayor Blanchfield moved toward the alter as hail tinked off the copper roof.
“Daddy, is it the Wrath?” she cried.
“No child. Be silent about the wrath here. We are safe.” Mayor Blanchfield said. “It’s a story told to misbehaving children to silence them in church.” He glanced at the statue hoping for a sign of approval.
Einridi, please help us.
The bells continued their warning. He stroked Maggie’s sweat stained hair from her face as a bolt of lightning hammered nearby. Maggie’s fierce squeeze made his leg go numb, until her nails found home in his flesh. They crouched near the statue as if divine intervention might save them.
Hail cracked upon Shinehall’s roof making larger dents. In the surrounding farmlands, horses screamed and stampeded, while livestock bellowed and died. The alter looked down on it all and Mayor Blanchfield knew that the crops would be a total loss. Shattered glass fell to the cobblestone roads as hailstones the size of fists fell from the sky, cracking wood and ravaging thatched roofs. The mayor knew Maggie was screaming as she and covered her ears. The sound intensified drowning out anything else but destruction.
The cloak of hail surrounded them. Holes appeared in the roof’s massive dents and some hail made into Shinehall. The noise deafened them as cold air flowed through the Shrinhall. Suddenly as the destruction began, it stopped. Heavy rain replaced the hail cutting visibility all around them. Once again, the church sounded their warning. Mayor Blanchfield gut clinched as he realized it was more than a warning but a plea to the gods for help.
Keep an eye on my WIP and hopefully we will watch it grow.