After a week of various tunings, I finally settled on “standard” (so much wasted time), came up with riffs for both verses and chorus and a rhythm bridge. The lyrics are done-ish as well. Sigh. I may have a new song tomorrow. Maybe next week.
A few moments ago, I saw two Dallas police vehicles pull up. It’s nice to know I don’t need to panic anymore when this happens, so I didn’t. I know what they’re here for. They’re here for HIM.
There’s a schizophrenic dude (not speculating; clinically diagnosed) who lives across the way who likes to mix his meds with alcohol. This isn’t speculation; he posts about it on his social media accounts. He likes to freak out a couple of times per week and blame it on the neighbors. They don’t call it the urban jungle for nothing.
As with several times before, Dallas PD was thwarted by a simple three-digit code. I’ve personally given it to them several times before, and they even wrote it down, but that stuff ends up as forgotten lint in the dryer. After a few moments of inner turmoil – can you believe we now live in a world when it takes longer than ninety seconds to decide whether or not you should help the police – I got up from my desk to allow entrance.
I gave them the code once more as I turned the knob. We’ll see what they do with that information.
“Are you the person who called?”
“No, ” I replied. “I just saw you struggling.”
I turned and walked back into the condo without saying another word.
The officer appeared gob-smacked. Is it really all that rare in his line of work when the average citizen lends a helping hand for them to accomplish their job? It’s not like they pulled up in an ICE van or anything. Statistically, I knew they were here to see the poor gentlemen who resides in the alternate dimension upstairs. He could use any help they’d be willing to offer.
Regardless, as expected; again, they depart empty-handed; their hands tied by convoluted laws and political rhetoric. They’ll be back tomorrow, because gasoline doesn’t come out of their paychecks. But…
What if it did? They have quotas; they can lie about it all they want. I worked for the Hunt County Sheriff’s Department for over a decade and was bold-faced told by a Texas Department of Public Safety Officer that they were instructed to “count cars”, ride your butt until you barely cross over the line, then pull you over for swerving. Automatic probably cause.
I’d bet a lot of those bad or barely making it cops would get their stuff straight if the quota went public and it reflected their pay scale. I think they call this version of monetization “Little Sister”. It’s the polar opposite of “Big Brother”.
Those cops stood there and talked to one another for thirty minutes outside my gate with both of their vehicles running. I could’ve been nosey, but I left my window closed for plausible deniability. Still, how much is the half-hour rate of two Dallas PD officer’s salary plus fuel consumption for two idling vehicles? They’re obviously not experts in the field of schizophrenics, or at least that’s what they’ll claim when you attempt to interject personal wisdom into their uniformed conundrums; so what were they discussing? Is this kind of thing happening on every call? Our tax-dollars at work.
Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. It’s funny, really. An Amazon delivery driver walked around them and entered the gate code as though she lived here. These are the police, folks. Unlimited funding, unlimited technology, lapped by a fifty-cent notepad.
America. I would’ve spoken to them more, but my sunglasses were in the truck. It’s not illegal to be multi-dimensional, you’ve just got to keep it to yourself.
The “comments” section is at the very bottom of the page. That way, if you’re going to be a poon, I can try to sell you a book on the way down.
The Reverend’s Reads
To most, 1865 was an eye-opening year. The American Civil War was officially over and the soldiers fortunate enough to survive the bloody conflict returned home to collect the pieces of their former lives. To young Arizonan, Robert Jack, the fateful desert homecoming marked the end to all he once knew. Forgiveness is overrated. Death is final. Revenge, however, dances between the fine lines of mortality and eternity. Love always finds a way.
“Reading Jim Walker and the Redemption Hymn is equal parts quirky fun and riveting action. Cloud’s confident, entertaining voice draws the reader in like an old radio western: the perfect bite-sized story with a main character you’re ready to follow through every adventure he finds himself on. So, tune in next time…”
– Megan Stockton, author of Lovely, Dark & Deep
The history books would read that Jim Walker was brutally executed after the Battle of Goliad, but a few promises in the right ear blurred the contrast between blood and ink. Now an aging bounty hunter on the verge of retirement, his services are requested in the Northern Arizona Territory to solve the terrifying mystery of the Verde River Massacre. With guns from a local Deputy, courage from a saloon proprietor, and a deathbed confession from an all-too-familiar Medicine Woman, Jim sets off on what could be his final adventure. Will he lay the ghosts of his past to rest once and for all, or is he simply whistling his Redemption Hymn?
“Someone call DC and tell them this is how you write a female hero character!” – Lisa Lee Tone, Bibliophelia Templum
Angel Burns is a young firefighter with a shrouded history. During a routine night at work, she stumbles upon a demonic ceremony that brings her memories out of hiding – as well as her repressed supernatural powers. Angel soon learns her life was intended for things greater than extinguishing fires for mortals. Now on the payroll of the Vatican, Angel embarks upon an epic quest to protect the Gutenberg Bibles from evil. If successful, she will secure peace for generations. If she fails, the power of the ancient books will bestow an eternity of darkness upon all humanity!
Toby Liberman is nearing the end of his rope. After a fateful confrontation with his wife’s lover, he is chased into the woods only to be discovered by an unidentifiable creature. He is attacked and rendered unconscious. Upon waking at the scene of a gruesome triple homicide, Toby is arrested as the sole suspect and thrown into a jail cell with a strange man that knows way too much about his predicament. The stranger reveals to Toby that he now possesses the curse of the werewolf. Using his new-found strength to flee his captors, Toby begins to discover that things are not what they seem in the sleepy town of Twin Oaks, TX. Now hunted by law enforcement, as well as the town’s gun toting civilians, Toby seeks vengeance against his false accusers and embarks upon a quest to clear his name once and for all.
A Curse Beyond Comprehension. A Power Beyond Belief. A Girl Far From Home. Katie Liberman is your typical eighteen-year-old college student…or at least that’s what her family thinks. Picking up five years after the events of A Taste of Home, Katie has dropped out of school and embarked upon a dangerous quest to find Kurt Jimmerson, the New York City attorney responsible for her family’s werewolf curse. Unknown to her, the attorney’s grip on the ‘City That Never Sleeps’ is tighter than imagined and she’ll need any and all help available to be victorious. But… where do you find friends when you’re Far From Home?
Twin Oaks, Texas is at war! Taking place immediately after the Far From Home events in New York City, Katie Liberman has returned to rescue her birthplace from the clutches of her nemesis. As the paranormal battle of North vs. South rages in the shadows, the tiny town must decide to fight against the odds or become one with the darkness. Blood will be shed and only one will survive as the final battle of the Home Series concludes.
I know this is the part where I’m supposed to talk about the book, but I feel as though the synopsis needs its own preface to truly understand. 2023 was quite an eye-opening year! I began it by living my dream as a vintage steam locomotive fireman, but that dream was soon squashed thanks to my writing career. It won’t matter that you wrote your extreme horror offerings years ago and under a pen name. Also, it won’t matter that your publisher and author friends from days gone by express pleasantries and kind, nurturing words to your face, because they’ll clique-up and talk trash the minute you turn your back. F**k the biz, create. Create for art, not clicks. Click for love, not hate. Those are words true artists should have no issues living by, yet most seem to hide behind their keyboard shields, flinging ill-thought words of destruction toward once-trusted ears. Don’t pour something into everything; pour everything into something. Do it all by yourself if necessary. With any luck, 2024 will be the year of The Reverend. I’m not exactly sure what that means yet, but we’ll find out together. Anyway, here are a few short stories and poems I wrote as C. Derick Miller in 2023. I stole them from myself. Fair and square. Enjoy.
Poetry has always come naturally to me. Whether it is an expression of emotion toward someone I care about, or a display of humor pointed in the direction of those I loathe, it is my true outlet. Several of these works were written in a passenger seat while exploring the highways of the United States and somehow managed to survive “The Great Ex-Wife/Ex-Girlfriend Poetry Purge” of 2019. Others were penned during COVID-19 quarantine. Although it may not be the most epic poetry collection you’ve ever read, it all contains bits of blood and soul. You will feel something. Guaranteed.
“This profound collection of horror brings classic monsters into new light in the modern day” – B.L. Blankenship, God Walks The Dark Hills series.
The modern world is a crazy place. Worrying about childish politicians, empty grocery store shelves, and our pending membership to the “global disease of the week” club, it leaves very little time for the average reader to finish an entire novel. This is where Six from Five Seven: Short Stories from a Short Man comes in clutch! A story per day to keep the impending apocalypse away, with a single day left over to contemplate why you purchased this book in the first place. That sounds like an entertaining week when compared to the one you were destined to have regardless. What do a cursed husband, a privileged brat, a curious prostitute, a repressed savior, a vengeful son, and two hell-bound soldiers have in common? Their stories lie within the pages of this collection and invite you to tag along on their journeys of fate, redemption, and demise. When finished, you, dear reader, can hide this book inside your basement with the rest of those important documents you wished you’d never taken home. The FBI won’t be happy, but at least they’ll know you’re a cool person for owning a copy while conducting the raid. That must count for something, right? Let’s hope the judge thinks so!
Also, there’s a few other things not listed here that are floating around out there. Best of luck with the hunt.
Current Projects
Rev. Dare Cloud
Reverend · adjective. worthy of adoration or reverence. synonyms: sublime · sacred.
is a Dallas author, musician, and gonzo journalist. Some of his works include the controversial splatter-western Starving Zoe (written as C. Derick Miller), the Taste of Home trilogy, and the ongoing Jim Walker series. He is also the co-host of the American Justice Podcast and Senior Writer/Junior Producer for AtuA Productions LLC. His literary crushes are (of course) Hunter S. Thompson, J.D. Salinger, and Kevin Smith. Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon.
“You’ve got to press it on you You’ve just been thinking That’s what you do, baby Hold it down, Dare!” – Gorillaz
The Gonzo Wolf 
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