Home of the Reverend Dare Cloud, Excommunicado, and the final resting place of C. Derick Miller(RIP): Dallas writer, musician, gamer, & paranormal investigator. Jack of many trades; master of none. Paul Varjak-ing it since 1973. What a long, strange trip it’s been…
A sudden burst of energy came from out of nowhere. I bid goodbye to my safety-corner, and headed outside; bestowing blessings upon the stoner tree as I floated by.
I’ve lived in Bishop Arts, Dallas for over seven years now, longer than I’ve ever lived in one place. I still feel as though I know nothing about it. There’s two-fold reasoning:
My wife has Celiac (Google It). We eat at home 99% of the time, but she’s an epic cook.
I actually live in the historic Lake Cliff neighborhood. Bishop Arts is two blocks away, and it’s up a steep hill. I have sand in my hoo-haa. It’s impossible to find free parking; I refuse to pay for it, and I owe the parking lot company money. No shame in my game.
Yes, I busk there, and I shop at Christmas, AND I’ve eaten at the same three restaurants on repeat, but I’ve never truly experienced the neighborhood in a positive, extensive way. I’ve never slowed down enough to live in the moment. I want to change that.
Currently, I’m sitting on the corner of Bishop & Davis enjoying one of the best damned burritos I’ve had in a bit. Not since catting around Long Beach, or street walking whatever was nearest my hotels in Pasadena. Ironically, it feels very SoCal in the moment, sun on my back; low humidity with a cool breeze. If I concentrate, I might could fool myself. There’s been a fatal stabbing and hit and run here in the past couple of months. California is an obviously contageous state of mind.
My eyes off the food and back on the mission, I turn the corner. As soon as I leave Davis onto Bishop, I’m in Queens. Well, a sort of high-end Queens now; gentrification is everywhere. The bookstore that sold my wares has left, being replaced by some alcohol-infused frozen yogurt, or some other intoxicant to blur the views of the masses, one sip at a time.
I move into the record store like a spy dodging no one. What I mean is, spies don’t get in trouble anymore, so they don’t care. They look like baseball-dad golfers. Don’t you watch the news? They’re like, “Hey, you…get your damned hands off of her,” and slap their naughty wrists, and they, indeed, get their damned hands off of her; whoever she or they may be.
I special ordered the wife a little something for the upcoming birthday, even though we never buy each other holiday-specific gifts. It’s just random stuff throughout the year we call “Ani-valen-birth-mas”.
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 cut through an alley on the way home, and I’m in Chelsea or high-end Williamsburg. I grab a black covfefe and a bagel to go, fist bump my barber, and I’m headed home. The fact I can pseudo-travel to each coast via a delectable food-ferry and fine memories, all within distance of the shoe-leather express, is astonishing. If it’s Heaven, then it’s as heavenly as I’ll allow it to be; I don’t want to get caught up in semantics. I can make it all turn to Hell with the flip of a mindset. But, why?
I walked away from home with no clear destination, and I returned without deadline on an oddly beautiful, “Dallas-False-Fall” day. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve adventured, or at least my microscopic, adventure-esque version of such, but I know it wasn’t here. Probably New York, Portland, or even Seattle, when I resembled someone else entirely.
Still not cool enough outdoors for busking on a weekend evening; playing music makes you sweaty…if you’re doing it right.
Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon.
I’m right by me. If I squint hard enough, or take off my glasses, it’s all I’ve ever wanted the last chapter to be.
As much as I’d prefer you purchase these directly from me, they’re also available through Amazon and various other book sellers.
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.
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