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Return of Anarchy Tour

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New Australia Book 2
Science Fiction/Post-apocalyptic/Dystopian
Date Published:  11/21/2019
Publisher: Chandra Press
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The thrilling sequel to Rijel 12: The Rise of New Australia.
A planet on the verge of destroying itself. A young woman determined to stop it before all is lost.
Ten years have passed since Earth invaded. The volcanic blast that turned the tide of the war has changed the face of the planet forever. What was once a scorched wasteland has been quenched by frequent rains. Farms now cover the surface. The citizens of New Australia have thrived.
Anarchy, the flagship of the resistance thought lost during the war, suddenly returns. To Admiral Slout and his crew, it’s only been 6 months since the raid on Star fantasy. But on New Australia, seventeen years have passed, and much has changed. The pirates struggle to reintegrate into a society with rules and laws. Unfortunately that’s not all.
The Anarchy brought something back with it. Something more dangerous than anyone could have expected. With the planet on the verge of civil war and leadership in disarray, can anyone stop New Australia from tearing itself apart?
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EXCERPT

From Chapter One, THE PORTAL:

“Mr. Brilly … do we have confirmation yet?”

Admiral Slout Epydidimus had just returned to the command bridge and was seated in his captain’s chair onboard the Naustie flagship Anarchy.  This had been specially made for him after the former freighter had been captured following the riot at New Australia Planetary Prison.  Originally designed for humans – and with Admiral Snout being a pig-like Suidonji – it had to be altered to accommodate his form.  He was addressing Ensign Frilbriliram who had been awaiting word as to whether the ship’s science officer had given the green light. 

His science team had been working nonstop for the past twenty hours.  They’d studied the area and discovered conditions were right for the existence of a wormhole, a space anomaly that most considered theoretical at best.  The idea of actually travelling through one had been routinely dismissed over the centuries.  The concept of a ‘space portal’ was an old one; and to ship captains more legend than reality.  A thousand years ago wormholes had been proposed by a revered scientist back on Earth.  That being said, few outside the literary community ever imagined one being traversed

Not knowing how far behind their pursuers were; not to mention whether the enemy were gaining on them, the only option seemed to be in taking a detour, even though they’d taken one already and it had cost them.  Landing on Kapteyn B had been necessary of course.  They’d had to offload female prisoners from the Chengshi.  Jettisoning them into space was not something Admiral Slout was willing to do.  Changing direction wouldn’t cut it – they were being tracked and had been for quite some time.  Once within firing range they’d be obliterated.  It was preferable to find some way to conceal their location for a time.  Disappearing inside of a wormhole – at least to Admiral Slout and his command staff – sounded immensely appealing.  Not that Minggatu didn’t have a point.

True, the ship’s spectrometer had picked up on the anomaly; but that shouldn’t have seemed unusual.  They’d been running for their lives for some time now; had activated their warheads in order to provide extra speed – thus setting up a harmonic field which caused a subspace field to be generated.  This had illuminated a corridor and the spectrometer had identified a passage parallel to the ship.  Minggatu, a soft-spoken Mongolian, tried explaining this when it had first occurred.  Admiral Slout only heard what he wanted to hear; especially when his first officer alerted him to the opportunity.  Did they have the technology to “open the door” and thus “disappear” entirely?  That’s all he’d wanted to know.  If successful – if they truly could burrow through the fabric of space and survive to the other side – the Interplanetary Fleet would have no idea where they’d gone.  Minggatu thought it to be foolhardy.

“Admiral, you need to realize – or do you already know just how risky this would be?  We won’t have any idea what’s on the other side.  Even if we can force it open … even if we do manage to keep it open long enough to pass through.  You know this, right?”  That’s how he’d explained himself – trying not to be insubordinate, yet being as honest as he possibly could.

“A wormhole, just so we’re understanding each other, they’re only theoretical – a passage through space-time that supposedly creates a shortcut between two points in the universe.  Yes, they’re predicted by the theory of general relativity but nothing more.  Predicted; not verified.  And according to Einstein-Rosen theory there is serious danger of collapse, not to mention high radiation.”

Slout did not interrupt.  He’d learned when it came to subordinates expressing expert opinions that it was wiser to let them speak their minds.  If they rattled on long enough they’d often end up talking themselves into whatever was proposed.  That was always best.  Minggatu had plenty to say.

“The first problem is size, sir.  You see, primordial wormholes are predicted to exist on microscopic levels – centimeters wide at the most.  Sure, as the universe has evolved, it is possible – remotely possible mind you – that some may have grown.  The universe is constantly expanding.  But the main issue is stability.  Even Einstein himself never considered them as a means of traveling from one galaxy to another because they collapse quickly.  That is, we believe they do.”

But that’s where Slout had him.  It was merely a matter of making the argument that the Anarchy’s warp drive was predicated on the creation of non-baryonic matter.  He too knew a thing or two about interstellar travel.  Had to.  He’d been a ship’s captain for many years; was a smuggler before he was sent to prison.  Offered a “deal” if he’d identify the mobsters he was working for, he’d wisely chosen ten years at New Australia Planetary Prison rather than cooperating with investigators.  If only he would have, he might have gotten off with a suspended sentence but Slout was too smart.  The mob would have killed him for doing something like that.

“Yes,” the admiral replied, pretending to be ill-informed.  “I’ve heard of this.  We would need some form of exotic matter, I believe it’s called, in order to hold it open long enough for us to pass through.”

“That’s right, Admiral.  You were told correctly,” Minggatu observed.  “And it’s not clear whether such a thing exists in great enough quantity within the natural realm.  True, it could work in keeping the portal open while traversing one end to the other, but ….” 

“But what?” said the ship captain.  He could sense that his science officer knew the answer.  The trick was in getting him to admit it.  

“Well, sir, it’s just that such matter … exotic matter … has only been discovered while in certain vacuum states as part of quantum theory.  Those experiments are – I mean they’ve only been conducted in a controlled laboratory environment.”

Slout decided it was time to turn the screws.  What had always been believed – though never attempted in space – was that exotic matter contained negative energy density and large negative pressure.  If it could be “created” in a lab, why couldn’t it be done now using the same technology they already had onboard?  

“I see.  And do we not have a laboratory onboard this ship?” asked Slout.  “Do we not already have the necessary facilities to accomplish this?”

“Accomplish what, Admiral?” asked Minggatu; being extra careful not to sound flippant.  The ship’s commander wasn’t just his superior officer; he was also a massive Suidonji, fully capable of snapping the man’s neck if he wanted to.  Still, he could sense what his commander was driving at and it made him terribly uneasy. Slout, for his part, was done playing cat and mouse with the disgraced former college professor.  What the little fellow really needed was to see the bigger picture; and Slout was happy to enlighten him. After a pause he stood up from the small table they were seated at and snorted menacingly, placing his front hooves on the surface and glaring at him.

“Perhaps it is me who should be doing the explaining.  We’re being chased, Minggatu … and by a force fully capable of not only destroying us but everyone – every living soul on New Australia.  It is what it is, but you need to understand just what’s at stake here. We’ve been running from the IPF for quite some time – and to be honest, we may never see our home planet again.  But if we can elude them long enough, who knows what could happen? All we know is that we’re alive today … and you, my friend, can see to it we’re still that way tomorrow.”

He then grinned his typical grin – it looked more like a smirk.  Not well-known for his humor he raised a thick eyebrow and waited for the science officer’s response.  Like any good leader he knew when he’d made his point; what’s more he knew when to stop talking and let his subordinate process what had been said.  Say too much and it allowed time for devising a comeback. Say just enough – make it clear what was required of the man – that’s all he wished to do.  Either way it was a direct order he was giving; whether implied or stated.

“Figure it out,” he added, in order to remove all doubt what he was demanding.  This he did while raising up and placing his hooves on his hips. Minggatu realized this meant it was the end of the meeting.  Slout was done with him for now. He’d either produce the results they needed in order to escape through the wormhole or die right along with the rest of his fellow crewmen.  Might be days – weeks – hours later once the Interplanetary Fleet caught up with them; but they would.

“Yes Admiral,” was all he said in reply.

About the Author

 

King Everett Medlin has been writing since 2013, when he first developed the idea for Rijel 12. It was originally designed to be a SciFi series, with the objective of creating several short installments. Instead he got a lucky break when Chandra Press from San Diego responded favorably to the original draft, deciding to publish it as a full length novel. King lives in Denver, Colorado with his lovely wife Caroline and has two grown children. He’s a graduate of the University of Oklahoma where he played college Rugby; and remains a diehard Sooners fan to this day. His specialties are Science Fiction and Mystery/Suspense novels, focusing on unusual stories with intriguing plot-lines and amazing characters.
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Mirrors Tour

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Science Fiction/Science Fiction Thriller/Science Fiction Mystery
Date Published: 8/1/2019
Publisher: Chandra Press
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If you enjoy reality bending sci-fi like Inception, The Matrix, and Waking Life, you’ll love Mirrors!
All Sarah wants is to find her father. All Sam wants is a sense of purpose amidst her seemingly perfect life. What they find is much more than either of them bargained for.
Sarah has been searching for her missing father for the past four years. Sam has a seemingly perfect life, but something is missing. A set of strange circumstances and the onset of confusing visions sets them searching for answers. Individually they discover the answers the other needs: a secret formula, the answers to the disappearance of Sarah’s father, and a shadowy organization that seems to hold the key.
As the visions increase in intensity and frequency, and the women struggle to keep a grip on reality, they embark on a journey to understand what it all means. The connection that exists between them has larger implications than they can imagine, and they are not the only ones who know about it. They must work together, with a newly forged team of friends to evade capture and protect a mind-bending formula from getting into the wrong hands.
Sarah and Sam must become connected, truly connected, and discover their true purpose as the lives they once knew unravel before them.  With everything they cherish on the line, can Sarah and Sam solve the mystery of their connection before time runs out?
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Excerpt

Moments later, the lights went out and they were standing in total darkness.

Sarah felt her head begin to swim, pulling her mind away from reality, until she slowly found herself back, face to face, with the nightmare of the caves. 

The barn owls emerged from the blackness, swooping down over her as she lay helpless and rigid on the floor. Her body was one giant, pulsating heart. She was letting go and could not tell where the owls were coming from, whether from her mind, out of the cave of Lizard’s Foot, or out of the dark corners of the basement. 

She felt the gentle tug of sanity leaving her body with each exhale and floating through the air before her. She was well beyond the point of caring. In fact, she felt like embracing it. Beyond the syncopated rhythm of blood pumping and wings beating, she could hear Lucas’s voice calling her name softly, as if through the wall of another room.

  “Sarah… Sarah! What are you doing?”

Lucas’s voice grew louder and started to pull Sarah out of her hallucination-fueled daydream. She was now realizing that this was in fact a daydream. She had not experienced any visions for a while now, as she had not taken any Balixa in over a week.

“Sarah, please get up. I know you’re scared, but we’ll find a way out of here. I promise.”

Lucas’s voice was delicate and filled with promises, sweet sounding to Sarah’s ears; a pleasant addition to Sarah’s daydream, nothing more. She did not want to leave, though she could now feel her head resting in his lap, his hand gently stroking her hair, pulling her further and further out of the vision. 

And then she felt something, much more uncomfortable: the pain in her chest, the familiar aching that had driven her here, looking for her father. Now all she wanted was to escape, to not feel the pain that had persisted all these years. She closed her eyes and began to drift off again.

“Sarah, no,” Lucas pleaded, now an irritating reminder of the outside world she was growing to hate. “Sarah please, I need you. Don’t check out again.”

About the Author

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Sonya Deulina Williams was born in Moscow, Russia in 1989. She immigrated to the United States, specifically to Greensboro, North Carolina, with her family in 1994 with refugee status, to flee anti-semitism. This journey would become a major influence over her later years.
As an only child, Sonya was prone to day dreaming and loved drawing. Both of her parents are artists/painters. In high school and college, Sonya developed an interest in psychology and specifically how art and psychology could merge to bring insight and healing. So, she majored in Creative Writing and Psychology, and went on to intern/work in a variety of settings facilitating mental health and expressive arts interventions for refugee children and folks with various mental health issues. She later went on to get her Masters in Social Work.
Sonya loves incorporating expressive arts into her therapy work and psychological elements into her writing. She especially enjoys when fiction and reality blur, so that the reader finds themselves asking, “Could this be possible?” Naturally, Sonya gravitated to scifi and began writing her first novel “Mirrors” in 2015.
Currently, Sonya lives in Jamestown, North Carolina with her husband Greg and their three parrots. She enjoys binge watching scifi/psychological thrillers, going to the beach, acrylic painting, blasting her music, and spending time with her loved ones.
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E.V.A.IN.E Tour

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E.V.A.IN.E.: Book 1 There Was a Place
Horror Romance, Science Fiction
Published: October 19, 2016
Publisher: Page Publishing
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A world exists where the Incomparable Beauty of an Alien Technology Meets Its Ultimate Challenge: To remain Protector of Their Secret Transcendent Yet to Be Born.
Set within their spiral galaxy, between the expanse waves of Mira and Axis Prime, an exploring society called Deneva has created the answer to a harmonious continuance in the universe. One citizen of remarkable insight and intelligence, Dr. Shesgal Ollemanhalu, has created a transferable, virtual representative from his doctorate work in the natural world to aid his people in establishing the natural development of genesis in order to save his race. He name his virtual creation, E.V.A.IN.E. She is the carryover of Shesgal’s doctorate breakthrough in behavioral progression that leads to transcendence. The revelation which was meant only for his world becomes Shesgal’s remarkable change to life in the universe. It is known by the greater name of E.V.A.IN.E. World Foundation. In the search for fulfillment beyond their own survival, others, along with Shesgal would develop nature’s greatest creation; a super being of transcendent capability who can lead them all into their place of higher belief in the universe.
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Other book in this series:
E.V.A.IN.E.: Book 2 Lessons Learned from the Old Makers
Publisher: Page Publishing
Date Published: March 26, 2018
All life forms dream. Even the overlooked organism in the soil beneath our feet which ventilate the soil. Many of these have extended life spans exceeding our own. Likewise among this category are variations that achieve remarkable transformations to their physical makeup. The struggling caterpillar, which has the ability to acquire a state of metamorphosis, can attain a winged form capable of drinking the nectar of its culminating attainment…its philosophy if you will. Thereby fulfilling its destiny. The passage of time has shown the prediction to evolve a thought to take a form that will result in an action of beauty and resounding results. My daughter will also dream one day following this pattern of evolution and guard the flower’s nectar for the future transcendent and its proclamation to the universe. The “fractal key” will propel my created daughter to acquire a complexity that surrounds the observer and instructs him to abolish the excess that is defeating its efforts to become something more than before…To transcend!

EXCERPT

PROLOGUE

PART 1

Planet Deneva and the E.V.A.IN.E. World Foundation Period

 

 

      The coming and establishing of the E.V.A.IN.E. ancestral ghosts were required instruction for the younger inhabitant’s education on Deneva. An instructional teacher of the rich history on the world of Deneva stood before her classroom. Not someone identical to you and I but recognizable in the sense of the word. She was an artifice. An exceptional mix of working parts that required little if no replacement except for the intrusion of unexpected trauma. True enough she was lifelike but behind her white eyes and underneath her artificial skin was a mechanical wonder. She asked her children of which she was assigned if they would set aside for now their basic framework of mathematical formula rationalization for their analytical historical studies. Sharing the room with their teacher was a teaching artificial intelligence helping and moving about the students. The children were far away in thought and had been for most of the morning with only the reward of solutions confirmed by the A.I. to problems to excite them. Her voice had taken them unaware being in deep concentration with the logic required for intricate problem solving in their studies. She would re-enforce their efforts with an example of pleasure explained in the Great Guardian’s philosophy to sustain them in the ongoing race of their mandatory indoctrination. Their education adhered to a rigid prescribe allotted time for comprehending and must be fully attained by the sessions demands so that they could continue to achieve the knowledge for the role of Denevan explorer. For her to have said so had made them glad to relax for a short spell in what was left to the day. Looking over her students of mostly girls to boys, roughly two thirds to one third respectively, she was proud of their efforts this morning and so wished to excite them with a reward. She asked them if they could recall where in their civilizations history did the place of redemption point to next.

What the children had been shown so far, in relation to the creators place with them in the world of Deneva’s past, was mostly preparation he had dictated to himself in his scientific studies and research. Now the fruition of his efforts would be revealed as closely as possible along the timeline it had occurred in and projected like a living story there in the classroom.

 The girls devoutly raised their hands to be called upon and the boys leaned gregariously nearly coming out of their seats and spoke out quick without being felt to be under formal permission to wait. With brief acknowledgements to each face, the teacher had meant to be understood only rhetorically, but was delighted they were enthusiastic about their home world’s deep past and its state of steady recovery. For although their worlds last catastrophe had been passed by now for many generations, the history of it still had a way of affecting even the newest of their population. To placate as well as encourage their curiosity she now asked them more specifically if they would like to investigate once more the archival histories. There had been no need to ask. Seeing their happiness to explore the histories, she had with deliberateness set aside for the remainder of the day the regimentation of their mathematical education before class would be suspended till tomorrow. All of their visual and mechanical aids were retrieved into the cavities on their individual desks. The soft form seats they occupied were adjusted and the working desks removed themselves being only holograms of teachable aids. Their level of completion to the list of formulas was recorded before being sealed by the authority instructing them. The teacher felt their sense of exploring returning to the past and set in motion the participation of the assisting android to access the last waypoint the class had entered from its internal archival library.

About the Author

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Jackson Burrows currently lives in Deep South Texas along the perimeter of the Rio Grande. Earlier in Life, he worked in many occupations ranging from an agricultural tree farmer to a gravedigger at a cemetery. During the Vietnam conflict, he was drafted from Oklahoma State University during his sophomore year through the ‘lottery system’ developed by the Nixon administration to fill up the ranks for the already lost war. After serving in the USCG search and rescue detachment, he rode the deep sea ships of the merchant marine. In 1981, he became an emergency services personnel and eventually completed his employment of twenty five years as a fire captain and emergency medial tech. He is now retired and has completed the first book of his novel he developed those many years ago when he attended OSU.
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Soteria Tour

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Science Fiction/Romantic Science Fiction
Date Published: 7/5/2019
Publisher: Chandra Press
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An asteroid on a collision course with Earth. Twins from another planet sent to stop it.
With a vibrant art movement, thriving music scene, and culture of change, 1960s Manhattan is pulsating with energy. Twins Mark and Jason appear human, but they have been given powers beyond anyone’s imagination. The city embraces them and they dive headlong into all it has to offer.
As the time for them to fulfill their mission grows near, the twins sense that something is wrong. Have they been sent to Earth to save it or to be eliminated? With the fate of both planets in the balance, and everything they’ve grown to love on the line, can Mark and Jason unravel the truth before time runs out?
If you enjoy a tantalizing journey into Manhattan in the 1960s, aliens among us, and rogue AIs, you’ll love Soteria: The Crisis Forge.
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Excerpt

The entrance to the subway was congested; there were panhandlers blocking the steps. He made his way down the stairs and onto the crowded platform. Columbia students were talking of academic subjects. Three young hippie-looking girls giggled about last night’s trysts with their boyfriends. On a wooden bench in the middle of the platform, a homeless man slept beneath a blanket, his stench mingling with the smell of cheap wine, staining his coat. A police officer nudged him with a nightstick as he passed, and a group of teenage boys in the corner laughed at the spectacle. It was 1969. It was an inspiring time – a time of experimentation, a time of pleasure. It was a time when rules seemed to matter little to a world turned over on its head.  

These humans are fascinating! Mark would say to himself as he walked through the subway. He could read their thoughts as well as hear their words, and he drank it all in with delight. Today, the platform bathed Mark in a cacophony of sights, sounds, and feelings. A swirl of human emotions flew through the air in what was to Mark a sinuous torrent, flickering and jumping like sparks from a burning campfire, flying colors, a kaleidoscope of humanity. It baffled him how humans would lie to each other about the silliest things, even to their closest friends, and how they often seemed so mentally distant as they pushed themselves up against each other’s bodies in the subway cars. They remained faceless, isolated in a crowd, and yet they increasingly busied themselves within the networks of their own lives. For all their strange, paradoxical behavior, Mark found humans forever surprising, constantly naively beautiful; every day they fascinated him more. 

Playing games and testing his abilities at mental manipulation became a daily pastime on the train, an unending source of pleasure. He would often construct suggestions, implant them into some unsuspecting mind, and watch the ensuing reactions. He might create a deep-seated attraction in a young girl’s mind for a stranger. Then, he would observe her eyes as she pined away, watching her new true love jump on the express train, never to be seen again. Or he would suggest to the mind of a busy businessman that he had left the gas on in his house, and then relish in the anxiety, witnessing the panic, as he would flee to rush home. What silly games! He often thought. But I might as well practice what powers I have. Who knows how I’ll need to use them.

Besides, these minor games paled in significance to the games Mark and Jason had played when they were children. Jason had once gone so far as to induce the preacher’s wife to seduce their school principal in the rear of the church. Jason had practiced his abilities of suggestion from an early age, and he had developed them into an art. Not only was the school principal thirty years older than the preacher’s wife, but he was fat, almost consistently unshaven, and always had bad breath. Mrs. Shulster, on the other hand, was a beauty with blue eyes, a fetching southern accent, and healthy blonde curls that bobbed and bounced in the most affected manner intended to disarm the men she dealt with as the church’s first lady. She was also supervisor of the school, a position she often abused, dispensing a cruelty for which even at a young age the brothers, especially Jason, had no patience.

One day she found herself naked, reclined and sweaty, succumbing to an uncontrollable lust with the principal behind a thin curtain in the rear of the church. The debauchery devised by Jason was cruel even by his standards, and afterward, he allowed her only to recall the event in full during an occasional dream. She would never be sure whether the tryst had been real, but it would always haunt her. Mark eventually admitted he enjoyed watching her squirm in her seat whenever the principal walked into the room, or when his eyes found hers. To this day, the preacher’s wife never understood how it was possible that she had found herself sitting in a pew next to all the prim ladies without any underwear beneath her stiff dress. The principal, for his part, could never quite wash the smell of her off his clothes. The brothers had hated them both, and never had a moment’s remorse. They granted themselves these silly pleasures, thinking of them as learning exercises, for their time living amidst humans passed ever so slowly. Mark had been seeking what these beings were flush with, what they took for granted, this irrational torrent they call emotions. Maybe one day I will even be able to dream. Could I imagine such a thing?

About the Author

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Roberto Arcoleo was born in New York City, Queens to be exact, into a working-class Italian-American family. Roberto’s father was a hardworking, grumpy, and reserved restaurateur, his mother a warmhearted, talkative hairdresser.
Roberto was a bit of both. He grew up in Astoria in a two-bedroom ground-floor apartment with one younger brother, his parents, and an invalid grandmother. His early years were tumultuous and confused. Roberto never felt that he fit into the molds that were laid before him. His early extended family home life was chaotic, and his teenage years were worse. After the Catholic grammar school, he continued on to a Catholic high school. He hated them both.
As a teenager, Roberto felt more and more apart from his surroundings. He withdrew into his own world. To onlookers he seemed full of bravado, but he was timid and reserved at heart, always feeling out of place. He started lashing out at the world with violence as mark of distinction. He found a home within street gangs and hard drugs at fourteen. Roberto started living on the streets at fifteen, but was soon taken in by a schoolteacher uncle who lived on Long Island. His uncle held him captive from his own devices until he graduated high school.  Later, in college, he studied psychology hoping to find answers. Still troubled, he didn’t find the answers he needed in the text. He gave up his clinical ambitions for more underground alternatives. The same uncle gave him his first camera, and he discovered photography.
Under a name other than Arcoleo, he obtained recognition as an artist. He received his MFA from Brooklyn college and later saw his art reviewed in the New York Times. Roberto’s work has been acquired by major collections. Among them Brooklyn Museum, the Chrysler Museum, the Museum of Fine arts in Houston and the Museum de l’Eysee, Lausanne Switzerland. He was the first artist working in photography to be given a one-person exhibition at the Aldrich Museum of Contemporary Art; he was awarded a stay at the American Academy in Rome; and his work is presently in the National Gallery of Art.
He always had an urge to write and his late mother was always asking for his first novel. He told her he had to wait until he was called from a special place.
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Shadow of the Demon Tour

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Philanthropy Book 2
Science Fiction/Fantasy
Publisher: Chandra Press
Date Published: 11/14/2019

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The exciting sequel to Fusion World.
A world on the brink. A team divided.
It’s been months since Vai and Edam disappeared through the portal created by the destruction of the Fusion World machine. Unfortunately the machine contained the last known Dark Orb, the critical component to interdimensional travel. Luckily, a prototype is found in the vault of its creator, Dr. Charles Vindia. Vint SawWood, Vindia’s protégé, is pressed into service and can reactivate the device. But it is decades old and may only work once. There is no way to know.
Undaunted, Sajaeler and Raven lead a mission to find and rescue their missing teammates. What they discover is a world in the midst of a civil war. A shapeshifter has rallied an army of disaffected citizens to his cause and will stop at nothing until he subjugates the planet. To make matters worse, Raven becomes gravely ill. Coming to this world of mythical foes and allies has triggered something within. She must face her past in order to survive.
With the war boiling over, the team at odds, and Raven on death’s door, can Vai, Edam, Sajaeler and a new band of friends save the world and each other?
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Excerpt:  From Chapter 16:  Escape Into The Desert

Taldale stumbled forward, his boots kicking into the dirt below his feet.  He clutched the pink orb in his palm, and ran as quickly as he could, ducking down towards the beach, and heading southbound to High Cliff.  He ran up a ridge, and down on the other side, he was met face to face by one of the Hellgate leaders.  

Coby Churchlin held a blob of powder in his palm, about the same size as the orb that Taldale held in his.  He hunched it back, ready to toss it at the deputy. Taldale froze, and his fingers twitched as he considered drawing for his gun.  Coby noticed this twitch.

“I’m watching you, deputy,” Coby warned sternly.  “Before you even move your hand to your weapon, I will have thrown this directly in your face.  You will be lucky if your head stays attached to your neck.”

“It don’t seem like I have much of a choice, does it?”  Taldale asked.  

“The machine we confiscated from that scientist,” Coby nodded to the Time Orb in Taldale’s palm.  “Give it to me.”  

“Why not just kill me and take it?”  Taldale asked.  

“Because I’m giving you a choice.  Give it to me, and I’ll let you walk out of here,” Coby offered.  

“Bullshit,” Taldale muttered.  “As soon as I hand it over, you’ll kill me.”  

“Do you have any other choice?”  Coby asked.  

“None,” Taldale realized.  He reluctantly handed the orb over to Coby.  Coby gently tucked the device inside of the leather satchel he wore at his side, underneath his black duster.  Taldale flinched at the man’s every movement, trying to predict when he would throw the explosive in his palm. Taldale figured if he could see the projectile soon enough, he would be able to dodge, and unleash a counterattack, but as he watched, he saw Coby place the power into a pouch attached to his belt.  

“Much appreciated,” Coby said to Taldale.  He stepped past the deputy and started on his way towards Rasterol.  Taldale turned and watched him leave in confusion. He drew his pistol and pointed it square at the back of Coby’s head.  

“I could kill you right here, right now,” Taldale warned.  Coby stopped in his tracks. He turned his head to see the deputy through his peripheral.  

“Then why hesitate?”  Coby asked.  

“Why didn’t you kill me?  Why turn your back on me when you know that I have a loaded weapon?”

“You’re a man of honor, Taldale,” Coby replied.  “Aren’t you?” Taldale did not give a reply, but Coby already knew the answer.  “I let you live. I trust you will do the same.”

Taldale hesitated, and then spun his revolver around on his finger, and shoved it back into the holster at his side.  

“Then we have a mutual understanding,” Coby replied.  He turned his head forward and trekked forward towards Rasterol.  Taldale turned his back towards Coby and continued on his way towards Bastion Sax and High Cliff.  

About the Author

 photo Joe_Tamone_zpsuwbueu5i.jpg

Joseph Lewis Tamone lives in Wilmington, Delaware. Despite getting a degree in Environmental Engineering, Joseph has always found an escape in his quirky imagination that lent its way to his passion for writing. Joseph is an avid animal lover and history buff. When he is not writing, he enjoys escaping into the world of video games, nature, and most importantly, reading and researching. He lives in Delaware with his lovely wife, Erica, and their house full of animals.



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