Nicboth

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Nicboth

The Journey Begins

Authored by Cleve Sylcox 
Edition: First

Imagine a mountain where Angels go to rest. 
It is in another dimension hidden from human eyes, accessible only by divine guidance. Now, imagine demons fighting demons, fallen angels seeking to regain their former glory by returning to God, but stopped by demonic forces beyond their control. Add in the human element of curiosity, greed, and lust for power and you have, Nicboth – The Journey Begins. 

Four humans stumble upon an old chest in an abandoned ammo dump. In it rest the secrets of the past, forsaken, but not forgotten. Two more humans, half way around the world, seek to unravel a mystery to a mountain where angels dwell. Their paths interlock as they strike out against a demon – General Que, whose strength is only matched by his desire to destroy all human life.

2013

A time of reflection and a time of growth.

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In January I wouldn’t have given us a chance to survive the year. Things were just that chaotic. Our family was in turmoil over many things, most of which revolved around emotional and alcoholic issues.

As much as I want to open up in this Blog I will not. These are deep touching events surrounding those very close to me. I will say this, that if it were not for Gods divine intervention, the family would not be whole today. I feel very strongly that the events over the course of this year were directly handled by Gods hand.

Enough of the low lights.

The highlights mentioned before are as follows.

My son Josh, who was decimated and thoroughly hitting rock bottom, was lifted and transformed by Christina, who seemed to fill him with life. He is walking with a new purpose and a renewed outlook on life. He is attending culinary school and is making really good grades.

My number two son by birth started the year anticipating his induction into the Air Force elite units of Security Forces. This is after he trudged through the void between High School and the unknown during 2012. At the end of February 2013 he left home for Lackland Air force base and is now among the best in his field at Hulbert Filed Florida.

My wife is a rock…and that’s a good thing. She works as a nurse’s aid for home bound patients. She is steady, she is strong, and if it were not for her devoted efforts, financially, we would have collapsed months ago.

Me, well I started the year in one old profession…no I was not a prostitute…I was a home based customer service professional who was laid off in June. I turned to another old career, IT and found a job that gives me ample time to devote to writing.  By the end of the year I was also introduced to group of writers who exemplifies the meaning of sharing and giving. I’ve not been with the group long but already feel a new sense, a new purpose for my writing.

Over the course 2013, we were fortunate enough to visit Kyle at Lackland. It was the first trip my wife and I had taken together…ever. Outside of visiting relatives. We stopped in Dallas to visit and tour the School Book Depository where Oswald supposedly shot JFK. We watched in deep respect as our son graduated Basic Training to move forward in his new found career.

We came home where our oldest son was ready to move out and start his journey in life. He found a new friend who instilled in him the desire to continue in love and devotion.

So, here it is December 31, 2013. The Future is brighter than it was twelve months ago. I can see the dawning of a new day. I can almost imagine how my sons felt when the blinders were lifted, freeing them to see the sun on the far horizon revealing the day of new found hopes and dreams.

There is a tomorrow…Cheers to 2013, and onward and upward to 2014.       

A Dream

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I do not know why,

We dream,

The dreams,

We dream,

But we do dream,

Both, while we are awake,

And while we sleep.

 

Experts on such matters may say it is our subconscious effort to resolve some long-standing problem, to express our innermost feelings, emotions, unfinished business of the current day, and so on. Some even say, dreams are not dreams at all, but nothing more than electronic impulses between brain cells releasing leftover thoughts. To most of that I say hooey!

All I know is I do dream deeply at times, and at other times the dreams seem as fleeting as chasing the wind. Sometimes I remember the dream completely and then after a few hours I barely remember any of it. Other times it is forgotten before I roll out of bed. However, not this dream, now it stuck with me.

In this dream I was in a house, not my house either. It was a farmhouse with big rooms, and tall ceilings. I was with a group of people…I assume I was, as I just know there were others there in the living room with me. However, I do not recall speaking directly to any of them, although they did speak to me. I do not recall furniture either, I can only assume some existed. You see, in this dream there was a lot of commotion about something going outside and I wasn’t really concerned about people’s faces, furniture, or even paintings hanging on the wall or the wooden railing of the stairs leading to the second floor it was about the threat outside those tall farmhouse windows that mattered to me, us.

We stood in small groups at various windows of the living room looking outside past the green lawn, weeping willow branches, and the white picket fence at the most extraordinary thing. Black bugs crawling down the street that resembled large crickets about a foot long. They moved independently, as to say they were not in any kind of formation, just one massive group of blackness crawling down the street. I do not know if we were in town or out in the country, but these bugs were everywhere. Soon they were even crawling on the windows. We all stepped back from the windows, even though I felt an overwhelming calmness. Not only in me, but I sensed it from those around me. No one panicked or uttered anything alarming. We all seemed to know that the bugs could not harm us while we were in the house.

Then there was a roar, a distant low buzzing which grew louder and louder, until it was almost deafening. Someone looking out one of the windows shouted to me, “Come see,” and as I looked out the window I saw in the sky many planes flying west in formation. How I knew it was west I do not know, I just knew. The planes covered the sky from horizon to horizon. Large dark gray planes, with a sheen about them making them seem as if new. I did not see any markings indicating country, or numbers, or even windows. They were prop jobs, meaning they did not have jets, and they sort of reminded me of World War II Flying Fortresses, but these did not have the glass domes on the under belly.

I am sure there was more that happened in that farm-house than I remember, but then everything became blurry. I was now standing out in a field by an irrigation pump. A low concrete encasements projected into the ground about five feet, filled with water and the water ran over a spillway into the field. The water ran down an irrigation channel, pooling in spots. In these pools, tall grass grew. I saw in one of these pools something moving and swimming around. A large black crawfish about a foot long crawled out of the water onto a slab of concrete. A voice from behind me said, the crawfish was large because it ate the cricket like bugs. As I turned to the voice I woke up.

During this dream I felt underlying tones as if an invasion were taking place. By who, what or where I do not know, but the feeling was very strong, but yet, there was no sense of panic, anger, or deep concern…Maybe deep down inside we all knew the crawfish was on our side and nothing could harm us…Weird.

CODY

St. Charles has lost an ambassador.

He was not Political.

He never harmed a soul.

He gave his heart fully as no ambassador ever has, now or in the future.

Women were attracted to him, who could blame them… and if you pardon me for saying this, he was cute, cuddly and had a smile that attracted men and women alike.

Never a scandal, never a lie.

I, for one, admired his restraint when it came to conflict. He choose his fights carefully, and when he did fight, it was with boldness and courage.Image 

I knew of him, and never had the pleasure of being with him on his many journeys to Main Street or on his cross country expeditions. No, I only knew him from post and pictures and from the many stories that now will be legend.    

Cody, we will miss you. 

He Was Born On A Winter’s Day

He came to earth,
On a winter’s day,
In a manger,
He did lay.

He grew up fast,
He grew up strong, 
In his father ways, 
He knew right from wrong.

Then in mid-life,
A calling God choose,
Him and twelve men,
Wearing sandals and robes.

He preached to all,
Healing as he went,
Never stopping,
For this is why he was sent,

Some were happy,
Some were mad, 
He feed them fishes,
In rags they were clad.

There were those,
Who hated him,
In those days,
Their mood grew grim.

They planned and plotted,
For his death,
Meekness and kindness,
Is how they were met,

They nailed him tight,
To a cross,
He gave his life, 
All seemed lost.

Then on the third day,
After the Sabbath,
He rose and lived,
Love is his habit.

He ascended to,
His father in heaven,
At the Fathers right hand, 
The bread that is leavend.

He sends to us,
His holy sprit,
Filled with Love,
For those who hear it,

He was born,
On a winter’s day,
In our hearts,
He will always stay.Image

Learning to write all over again…

Over the last twenty-four hours I’ve had the honor and the privilege of chatting with some of today’s best authors,  Jess MountifieldTraci HiltonRussell BlakeNick RussellTR Tom Harris, and Carol Ann Newsome. Their genres vary from Sci-fi to nature. However, they all have one thing in common in that they are willing to teach and to share what they have learned. If you’re looking for good books this holiday season here they are. Click on their names and follow the links.