I know many of the things I speak about on this page are extraordinary, but that’s always been my life. I make up things for a living, and I can’t make this stuff up. I mean, I could, but I don’t need to. It actually happens.
My wife was on the couch doing some course work for Cornell (that’s a bit of a brag on my wife btw; love how incredible she is) – over-achiever – and I just couldn’t get this rhythm track right for a song I was recording. Needing a break, I walked outside. I was instantly reminded of last week’s trash fiasco.
Our courtyard just happens to be a wind-tunnel due to the placement of the other units, so an impressive amount of trash collects there regularly. As luck would have it, I was trained by the best trash picker-uppers in the business (before they succumbed to cancel culture and fired me for writing a disturbing horror novella three years prior to employment): Six Flags Over Texas.
My trash picker-upper thing runs circles around the ones they issued to us on the railroad. I’ve got the Porsche of trash picker-upper things. Seriously, you could beat someone’s ass with this thing. Little did I know, I would need that added strength on this very afternoon. Never skip on the bells and whistles, kids. Quality of life is important.
Now, if what I’d found – the item which sparked this particular work – were in my yard at my good old rural homeland, I would say it was one of those glass domes used to wrap telegraph wires around from back in the day. They resembled paper-weights, in a way. I found them all over the place as a kid when I’d go stomping around in the woods.
Here.
I found a photo of one.
They’re called glass telegraph wire insulators or something like that.
It was in the worst condition I’d ever seen; cracked and chipped in various locations. Without a second thought, I picked it up with my fancy grabber and placed it in the trash bag.
Pause. Skreech. Smile.
I don’t live in the woods anymore. I live a stone’s throw from Downtown Dallas. That wasn’t a glass wire insulator from the telegraph days, and I’m ecstatic I didn’t inspect it further using my bare hands.
(The cover photo is actually an AI creation from reading this piece. It knew exactly what I was talking about. Kinky.)
Now, this is where one of YOU may come in.
Dear “Whoever was in my courtyard with a glass dildo”,
Are you okay?
Where is the rest of it?
It’s not still “in-there” is it?
Like, I don’t know if you’re a dude or a chick, so I can’t say which “there” it’s in, but I can imagine your shock when you only removed a portion of the entire “sculpture”.
Would it make you feel better if we referred to it as a sculpture? That sounds fancy, right? I was actually in the art industry for a very long time, and I installed penis and vagina sculptures all over the United States. Mostly penis’, or penises, or peni, if you will. Not necessarily heterosexual couples, nor was it vaginas with lesbians (they like vagina paintings, though; as do I). Gay men love their wiener art, though. I’ve unpacked and installed some priceless dildos in Manhattan. I miss the art world sometimes, but, as usual, I digress.
Let’s get back on this dildo thing. Gently.
So, there was a broken glass “sculpture” in my yard, and the other piece was nowhere in sight. Should I check the hospitals like they do when there’s been a shooting victim flee from their captors successfully?
Whatever it was you heard coming from my bedroom window that made you clench up and break the damn thing in half must’ve been impressive considering I’m a white dude in his early-fifties. I wish I could find you and ask exactly what night that was in particular. If I could put my finger on it (the situation, not the sculpture), I’d like to do that more often.
I mean, if it made you do what you did, imagine what it did to the person I was doing it to?!
I’m a giver.
Anyway, you’re better off just buying a new one.
Do you still have the receipt? I assume you use a new dildo for each occasion; sculpture, I mean. Was it under warranty?
Stay classy, Dallas.
Best,
Yeah, so that happened.
Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. If anyone needs assistance in caring for their own sculptures, I know people who do that.
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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