Posts
The streets of this city never sleep.
Not for the living. Not for the undead. Nor for me.
I stand halfway between the two.
I am Captain Samuel McCord, cursed with the blood of the Angel of Death in my veins.
New Orleans is called a Twilight City by many, for it rises from civilized slumber to bustling life at night.
Performers line the streets, pushers sell their brands of death, prostitutes promise sex as if it were love, dancers weave through the partiers on the street, and music throbs through the veins of the French Quarter.
The undead walk lazily down streets in front of buildings dating back hundreds of years. In that sense, they are at home. It is you, the living, that are intruders here.
An odd feeling comes over me as I look at these people, living and undead, strolling the dark streets in search of ... entertainment.
For a fleeting moment, I see the overgrown square of trees and brush it once had been.
I remember when I was young, when every moment had been crisp and fresh, where happiness and heartache quickly changed positions, and life was full of hope and promise.
Now, things are crowded, ugly, and the only hope is for a good death.
What had Elu, my Apache blood brother, once told me?
"When you were born, you cried and those around you rejoiced. Live your life, Dyami, so that when you die, those around you will cry, and you will rejoice."
Not for the living. Not for the undead. Nor for me.
I stand halfway between the two.
I am Captain Samuel McCord, cursed with the blood of the Angel of Death in my veins.
New Orleans is called a Twilight City by many, for it rises from civilized slumber to bustling life at night.
Performers line the streets, pushers sell their brands of death, prostitutes promise sex as if it were love, dancers weave through the partiers on the street, and music throbs through the veins of the French Quarter.
The undead walk lazily down streets in front of buildings dating back hundreds of years. In that sense, they are at home. It is you, the living, that are intruders here.
An odd feeling comes over me as I look at these people, living and undead, strolling the dark streets in search of ... entertainment.
For a fleeting moment, I see the overgrown square of trees and brush it once had been.
I remember when I was young, when every moment had been crisp and fresh, where happiness and heartache quickly changed positions, and life was full of hope and promise.
Now, things are crowded, ugly, and the only hope is for a good death.
What had Elu, my Apache blood brother, once told me?
"When you were born, you cried and those around you rejoiced. Live your life, Dyami, so that when you die, those around you will cry, and you will rejoice."
What Elu said is really profound!
ReplyDeleteBig fan of McCord! I'm reading Victor Standish Must Die and am enjoying learning more about his character too.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Alex!
ReplyDeleteElu, being Elu, said, "Of course."
:-)
Milo:
I hope you enjoy my little primer on the world of Victor Standish. Have a wonderful Sunday.
Elu is wise. It's better to have few regrets at the end.
ReplyDeleteI like that trailer with the young view of Sam McCord. I still have some of your books on the go, Roland, and will be back at reading them soon.
Celeste Holloway sent me this link, said it was some amazing writing. She was right! Good stuff Roland. Gave me writer envy. :)
ReplyDeleteD.G.:
ReplyDeleteWhen you lived several centuries and have lost so much, you either get better or bitter -- Elu has become a bit of both.
I hope you enjoy whichever book of mine you read next! :-)
Elizabeth:
Sam tips his Stetson to Celeste and to you. Tell Celeste thanks for me. I'm glad I got lucky and you liked what I wrote. :-)
Roland:
ReplyDeleteI just posted my review on The Three Spirit Knight to Amazon and Goodreads. I also sent out recommendations.
Hugs and chocolate,
Shelly
Lokking forward to reading more.
Such a beautiful excerpt, I love it!
ReplyDelete