Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Apocalypse


Book 1
War
Dedicated to all the men and women who have had the courage to down the uniform, forsaking their own self wants in defense of those they love, country and the innocent.
'I saw, and beheld, a white horse and he who was sitting on it had a bow, and there was given him a crown, and he went forth as a conqueror to conquer.' Apocalypse 6:2
Chapter 1: The Calling.
No one really knew Joseph's background after he had turned twenty, for nearly ten years it seemed that he had fell off the face of the earth. Then six months ago he had returned to his hometown of Helena, Montana. His fellow parishioners had now and then inquired about those missing ten years in which Joe would only reply, 'Intelligence'. Most people in his community understood what that meant and let the subject fade away.
It was like every other morning for Joe, five am wake-up, cup of coffee and two bowls of cereal before going out to the garage to have a cigarette. Refraining from smoking in the house was a habit he had developed several years ago when he had been married. After his routine was over he washed his face, combed his now shoulder length hair and turned on the TV to catch the day's weather. Of course that was his only use for a TV, always the weather and always on mute.
Once the weather was over he put on his boots, refilled his coffee cup and went out on the porch for a breath of the cool crisp March, Montana morning air. Since returning home, Joe spent most of his life reading and occasionally writing this or that, some short stories here and there. Life was slow for him, but he didn't mind, it was what he wanted, what he needed. He had no wife, no children and very few friends. Sometimes though he found himself lonely and depressed, at these moments in his life he always found something to take his mind off those types of thought by taking a walk or hiking, now and then he would paint. Still he would feel as if his home, like his life was empty, void of any and all existence.
When he reenter the house he heard his computer ping, signaling that he had received an e-mail. Slowly he made his way to his computer, he knew who the message was from. One of the only emotional thrills in his life. It was from a woman he had met five years back while he was in Japan. They had become close friends and had stayed in contact. Their relationship had been slowly building and now she was planning to come and visit him in a couple of month.
He clicked the cursor to open the message.
Dear Joe;
Thank you so much for your letter and pictures. I got them last night when I got home from work. I hope you are doing fine. I have decided that I would like to come to see you next month, if that is okay? I miss you and hope to talk to you soon. Take care.
Kisses
Chisako
Of course it was alright Joe thought to himself. Several times in the past he had entertained thoughts of being with her. Even though he wasn't sure of how to reply at the moment. So he just sat there in his chair smiling to himself. This woman had been the monkey wrench in his life. After ten years working in Intelligence and two failed marriages Joe had promised himself that he would forget women and go cold turkey in a sense. On the day he left Japan, he had checked his bags in and when he turned around there she was waiting for him. In the little time they had she expressed her feelings for him. They had had a rocky relationship over the years because of his work, but they always seemed to come back together. For now, Joe just sat there considering with a smile all the possibilities.
Looking out the window toward the lake and the mountains he was brought back to the present, glancing at the clock over his computer he got up and threw on his jacket. Outside he lit up a cigarette and walked down the street to the mail boxes at the end of the street. Living the simple, nearly Spartan life as he does, Joe rarely gets any mail, but there again it was just another daily routine that he takes a pleasure in. Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the box, inside sat an envelope with no stamp and only the name Virgil written in bold type on it's center. Joe stood there for what seemed like hours staring at it as a chill crawled up his back. Finally he took the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket. His mind swirled, his right hand started to shake as memories of the life he had left behind flooded his mind.
He walked around the sub-division as he tried to push the concerns, worries and memories out of his mind. To no avail he returned home, deep down he knew he would have to accept the contents of the messages. He could see the life that he had entertained in his mind with Chisako slipping away. How life could be so cruel, he would never know, but he also knew he could do nothing to change it. In the kitchen he took out a steak knife, opened the envelope and slowly read the contents.
'Dante's Company is being reinstated. Assignment is extraction of an Intelligence officer from Japan. This officer has in her possession documents vital to the Department of Defense. Familiar yourself and your team with Operation Serpent's Fire. In forty eight hours you will report to Malmstrom AFB's Legal Department.
Virgil'
Now Joe's mind started to swim as he tired to make sense of the letter that now laid on his counter. Why was his former team being reinstated for an evac mission? Sure vital documents are involved, but any agency from the State Department to Military Intel could respond a lot faster to this problem. Not only that the men of his unit were now spread out between three countries, America, Korea and Japan. Three of them had wives and children. Whatever these documents were they must be really important to the DoD.
He picked up the letter and places it into the shredder and then takes the results to the garage where he burns them. After burning another cigarette he goes to his guest room closet, pulled out his duffel bag, returned to his room's closet where he opens a false floor. Under the house he opens a muntion's box and starts packing it's contents into the duffel bag. He zipped up the bag he placed it next to the steps and returns to his living room. Sitting in his chair he closed his eyes and lets the memories flood his being.
* * *
Drying himself off Alex took care not to look at his own haunting image in the mirror Grabbing his tags hanging from the towel rack, he held them in clinched fists for his routine silent prayer to the unknown before putting them around his neck. Throwing on his t-shirt and grabbing a fresh pair of starched Dickies from his duffel, he suited up and laced his boots.
Alex breathed through the ever-present frustration that had settled upon his life as he strapped on his watch. Already thirty-five and not a damn thing. 'My, how time seems to pass when you’re living in a hell.'
Lighting up a cigarette, he left his apartment to meet a friend at the near by pub. Damn leg was starting to hurt again.” A block away from the joint, Alex stoped to watch a couple of kids race by on their bikes. Memories of his brother and him riding that way gave him a moment of relief from his daily life of drudgery.
Entering the pub, Alex's nerves and bearing tensed from all the human interaction and years of training. Without looking around, he walked over to their usual table in the corner where two full beer glasses sat. The bartender waved at him and bowed, Alex did the same in return. Moments later, a Vietnamese man joined him at the table.
Alex lifted his glass for his first sip. “Tran.”
Damn bro, you look like crap.” His friend’s voice was far too deep for his small body and quipped with a slight Vietnamese accent.
Yeah I feel it.” Alex lifted his glass towards his friend. “Cheers to this day finally being over and I haven't maimed or killed anyone, yet.”
They both chuckled and took a celebrated swig and lit up. Besides the noise of laughter, electronic dart board and the blaring TV, Alex and his friend are unnoticed in their own little world.
Looks like company.” Alex nods in the direction of a man with military stature scanning the bar.
Maybe we toasted too soon.”
The medium sized man’s eyes stop on them and with quick steady steps, he makes his way to them.
Excuse me which one of you is Captain Faulkner?”
That would be me, and I’m retired so you don't need to call me Captain,” Alex said.
Yes Sir,” he said.
Don't need to say sir either.”
Yes... I mean okay.” The stammered response told of this young man's rank, a Petty Officer. For them, there was no structure or order without yes sir. “I have an urgent message for you Mr. Faulkner.”
Tran grinned. “Looks like the Agency lost another one of their tit suckers.”
The young man hands a sealed file to Alex. Alex eyed the red stamp that said 'Eyes Only'. Man, not this again. He opens it and reads it over a couple of times then puts the document back into the envelope and hands it back to the Petty Officer. “Dismissed.”
Yes... Mr. Faulkner.” The man turned and left.
What is it Alex?”
You know the rumors we heard about that Canadian agent getting whacked in Tokyo?”
Yeah. What about it?”
He had a partner who squirreled and went into hiding. They want me to get her out.”
Scotch?”
Looks like I’ll need it if I’m going to be babysitting some girl.” Alex raised his hand to signal the bartender. “You know Tran, I really hate this life sometimes.”
I hear you Alex. I hear you. So did the file say where she might be, or have a photo? Was she good looking?”
No, just a four line description and maybe in Kansai. The description was so great that it could be a thousand women just in Osaka alone.”
So in other words you’re screwed.”
Basically.”
They got their scotch and sat there lost in their own thoughts. Alex reviewed what he had memorized from the document. Four lines. Four freakin lines. A slight commotion started on the other side of the bar. A man forcefully took a hold of one of the female customer's arms, yelling at the guy next to him. The two bartenders tried to calm the aggressor but it seems to only fuel his drunken anger.
Yours or mine?” Stated Alex with a half cocked grin.
Have at it Alex.”
Alex stood and lit another cigarette. All eyes locked on the loud mouth, Alex moved freely and without notice until he was within one step of the aggressor. In one flawless move, Alex wrapped the individual up like a constrictor until the man went limp. “Good Night knot-head.” Alex snarls, before dropping the unconscious man to the floor and returning to his friend and drink. It was going to be a long night.
Back at the apartment complex around midnight, Tran paused before heading up the stairs to his own rat hole above Alex’s. “Forgot to tell you, you have a new neighbor.”
Yeah I know, seen her this morning pass by my window. Not too bad.”
Night bro.”
Alex made his way to his apartment, mulling over his new assigned problem. So much for retiring and getting a real life. Would’ve probably killed him anyway. Just the boredom alone. Didn’t mean he couldn’t or shouldn’t have a night with a woman. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been with a woman. Didn’t matter either way. He’d never been a one night stander, and he was all but hopeless in the field of love and romance. It all served to paint his mood a dirty, nastier black.
Ten minutes later, he was standing under a spray of hot water, letting the tension release from his body. It would require something a lot stronger for his mind. He stood till even time melted away and no longer existed for him. Closing his eyes, a thousand fragments of his tortured life come flooding back. He braced his hands on the shower as the hell in his soul came to claim him. He didn’t fight it. He let it rip him apart, punishing the devil he’d become. When he trembled from the penance, he gasped for air, and in that one single point, he founds solace and returned to the present. To live.
Laying down on his beat up mattress with a loss spring that pressed into his kidney he closes his eyes. Despite how hard he fixated on the hellish hunting trip that would begin at dawn, he was still sucked back in time to the bloody fields that haunted his every breathing moment.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Brother of Different Robes.

Two brothers, same goal to be found and yet two paths different as they may seem have many similarities. In my years of spiritual and esoteric studies I have come to the revelation that though our systems may seem different, the reality is that they are not.

I sincerely hope that not only my brother joins me for a time in my esoteric and mystical journey but that each one of you will join us.

I will miss the great conversations, coffee, advice and close brotherhood which has come about not just because of our spiritual path but of a further connection of our similar backgrounds as well.



Friday, March 1, 2013

Cosmic Journey


Soon I will be returning to America and taking up my position as my former teacher's successor at Living Water Contemplative Center in Montana. Though the overwhelming joy that I have found pulsating through me as my time grow closer to an end here in Japan, I was moved to start compiling my past and currently learning into this little literary item.

In 'Cosmic Journey' I will not only talk about my spiritual journey but also some of the techniques I have learn over the past decade and a half, as well as my own struggles with this spiritual practice both mentally and physically.

I hope you will enjoy this some what chaotic journey of mine and one day join me, even if it is only for a moment of deep conversation over a cup of huckleberry coffee.

Dust bathing

Sparrow dust bathing.



Thursday, February 28, 2013

Beginning the Cosmic Journey

Now it is getting close to the end of my journey here in Japan. Even though I feel a great joy and excitement there is still a sadness and loneliness that tugs at my heart. Here I am in the present moment but I am finding it hard to still my mind and heart.

For many years I have spent in this country. A place and people I have grown to love, even though there are many things I have found that have sickened and even caused my greater sorrow. Coming to realize that there is little I can do to change the things I have found that decays the very foundation of humanity has not given me solace, rather it has deepen this sorrow. The lessons I have learned and the experiences I have lived I believe have made me stronger in many ways, have fortified me for the path I will soon walk.

Though in the physical I will be leaving this land to walk among my high mountains those who have touched me and I them in that special way my former teacher Father John Kirsch had taught as kything will always be with me and I with them. This fact, so simple and pure gives me a greater strength for the next chapter of my life.

The love that I have cannot be explained in mere words, all the pain, joy, sorrow, laughter has all been melted down into compassion and love without words. For through word the Essenes and true meaning is stripped away.

To this I have learned many great lessons in my eight plus years here in Japan. As I prepare for my next step I will live fully in the present moment. Taking a moment to watch a child smile, a sparrow play, the sun warming my skin and the gentle caress of the breeze upon my cheeks. I would invite each and every person to do the same, to empty yourself and to feel the spirit of the place where you are at now in the present moment, there you will find your center.

'For when you are at your center and I am at mine, we are one.' Sitting Bull, Lakota Chief.

We are not separate, in our most finite being, our core Essenes we are all intertwined. Not just all of humanity but every bird, tree, stone, animal, fish, mountain, sea... The whole cosmos in one living, breathing pulse of beauty and sacredness. We are not separate from one another we are all one, intertwined and interdependent on one another.

Take the time to stop and empty yourself even just for a moment. Open yourself. See with your heart and touch with your soul. Find your center and when you have arrived at your center in the present moment all will be right and all, you and I and the whole of the cosmos will be one again.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Collaboration Challenge: Part 3


Xav was the first to fire his weapon at semi-rapid lock thru a small firing pit door. What they saw amazed and terrified them both as the being seemed to turn to mist or dust.

Anika try the UV light in the back seat.” Xav commanded.

Scared nearly motionless Anika slowly reached around a fumbled for the light.

Hurry your lead.” Xav nearly screamed as the beings neared to no more than five feet.

When Anika had the light in her lap Xav grabbed it and turned the dial all the up and hit the trigger. A blinding flash of light appeared momentary blinding both Anika and Xav. When they regained their sight the being seemed to have created one large mass. A barrier of some type.

What's happening” Anika asked.

I have no idea, but whatever is it doesn't look good.”

The creatures didn't move from their five foot distant circular wall. Anika opened the phone but found it was drained of all power. Xav looked at his watch and it too had stopped.

What the hell?” Xav murmured under his breath.

In a few minutes that seemed like hours a small pathway was formed by the beings directly in front of them. Soon a small robed figure appeared. It came to stand right in front of the Humvee, it raised its head to bear a face that seemed to be rotting as he looked at them.

Their blood began to chill from it stare until it seemed that they were frozen. They watched the creature peel it's figure nail into the paint as it wrote something out. Then it was like they had fallen into sleep. When they came to the beings were gone and the sound of sirens could be heard headed in their direction.

Xav glanced at his watch, it was working and only three minutes had past since the last time he looked at it. Anika stuck her head out the window to read the message on the hood.

'You released us. Vamprye the true.'

She was white as death when she looked at Xav and lipped the word Vamprye.

What you mean vampires?” Xav asked with sarcasm in his voice.

Worse. Vampire as we know them are fantasy. Vamprye are the true type who have been called back from the dead and they don't drink blood. The feed on human energy so much so that it kills. Vamprye means soul sucked.

So how do you killed them?

I have no idea.” Anika retorted. 

To back read this collaboration please refer to the following links

Part 1
Part 2

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Serpent's Fire


Serpent's Fire (a Suspense/Romance)
By Azure Boone and Gavril Mikhailovich Pryedveshatin
Azure Boone is a writer of Paranormal/Romance and Romance/Erotica
Gavril Mikhailovich well you all know me as a writer of Suspense/Mystery.
Excerpts to come in March 1st edition of Muse E-Magazine
 
Assignment

Drying himself off, Alex took care not to look at his own haunting image in the mirror. Grabbing his tags hanging from the towel rack, he held them in a clinched fist for his routine silent prayer to the unknown before putting them around his neck. Throwing on his t-shirt and grabbing a fresh pair of starched Dickies from his duffle, he suited up and laced his boots.

Alex took a deep breath through the ever-present weight that had settled upon his life as he strapped on his watch. Already thirty-five and not a damn thing. My how time seems to pass when you’re living in a hell.

Lighting up a cigarette, he left his apartment to meet Tran at the nearby pub. Damn leg was
starting to hurt again. A block away from the joint, Alex stopped to watch a couple of kids race by on their bikes. Memories of his brother and him riding that way gave him a moment of relief from the daily living drudgery.

Entering the pub, Alex's nerves and bearing tensed from all the human interaction and years of training. Without looking around, he walked over to their usual table in the corner where two full beer glasses sit. The bartender waved at him and bowed, Alex did the same in return. Moments later, Tran joined him at the table.

Alex lifted his glass for his first sip. “Tran.”

“Damn bro you look like crap.” His friend’s voice was far too deep for his small body and quipped
with a slight Vietnamese accent.

“Yeah I feel it.” Alex lifted his glass up. “Cheers to this day finally being over and I haven't maimed or killed anyone, yet.”

They both chuckled and took a celebrated swig and lit up. Besides the noise of laughter,
electronic dart board, and the blaring TV, Alex and his friend were unnoticed in their own little world.

“Looks like company.” Alex nodded in the direction of a man with military stature scanning the bar.

“Maybe we toasted too soon.”

The medium sized man’s eyes stopped on them and with quick steady steps, he made his way to them. “Excuse me, which one of you is Captain Faulkner?”

“That would be me, and I’m retired so you don't need to call me Captain,” Alex said.

“Yes Sir,” he said.

“Don't need to say sir either.”

“Yes... I mean okay.” The stammered response told of this young man's rank, a Petty Officer. For them, there was no structure or order without yes sir. “I have an urgent message for you Mr. Faulkner.”

Tran grinned. “Looks like the Agency lost another one of their tit suckers.”

The young man handed a sealed file to Alex. Alex eyed the red stamp that said 'Eyes Only'. Shit not this again. He opened it and read it over a couple of times then put the document back into the envelope and handed it to the Petty Officer. “Dismissed.”

“Yes... Mr. Faulkner.” The man turned and left.

“What is it Alex?”

“You know the rumors we heard about that Canadian agent getting whacked in Tokyo?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“He had a partner who squirreled and went into hiding. They want me to get her out.”

“Scotch?”

“Looks like I’ll need it if I’m going to be babysitting some girl.” Alex raised his hand to signal the
bartender. “You know Tran, I really hate this life sometimes.”

“I hear you Alex. I hear you. So did the file say where she might be, or have a photo? Was she good
looking?”

“No, just a four line description and maybe in Kansai. The description was so great that it could be
a thousand women just in Osaka alone.”

“So in other words you’re screwed.”

“Basically.”

They got their scotch and sat there, lost in their own thoughts. Alex mentally reviewed what he had
memorized from the document. Four lines. Four feakin lines. A slight commotion started on the other side of the bar. A man forcefully took a hold of one of the female customer's arms, yelling at the dude next to him. The two bartenders tried to calm the aggressor but it seemed to only fuel his drunken anger.

“Yours or mine?” Alex gave a half-cocked grin.

“Have at it Alex.”

Alex stood and lit another cigarette. All eyes locked on the loud mouth, Alex moved freely and without notice until he was within one step of the aggressor. In one flawless move, Alex wrapped the prick up like a constrictor until the man went limp. “Good Night knot-head,” Alex snarled, dropping the unconscious man to the floor and returning to his friend and drink. It was going to be a long night.

Back at the apartment complex around midnight, Tran paused before heading up the stairs to his
own rat hole above Alex’s. “Forgot to tell you, you have a new neighbor.”

“Yeah I know, seen her this morning pass by my window. Not too bad.”

“Night bro.”

Checkmate by Azure Boone

Checkmate

An Erotic Romance to be featured in online Muse Magazine March 1, 2013
By: Azure Boone.

Web-sites: www.azureboone.com
www.archangelscreed.com 
Technical Adviser: Gavril Mikhailovich Pryedveshation.

Chapter One

Raven sucked down half of her beer. He was late. Why hadn't she found out if he was a punctual man in their yearlong online conversations? Far too practical for her. She was having too much fun exploring the logic of illogic, the order of chaos, Heaven and Hell, good and evil. Passion and desire.  

She signaled the bartender with a small wag of her empty beer bottle. Hopefully one more would finally take the edge off. Her nerves screamed straight up whisky was in order, but she didn't want to risk cracking her engine block.

The pub’s appeal sure as hell didn't help to curb the need, either. Reminded her of a social facade at a mental ward where broken people pretended to live in their fast retiring existences. She didn't want to be among the walking dead. And yet there she sat, three thousand miles from her old life in some shitty little Hong Kong tavern, or bar, or whatever the hell they called it. Funny how the alternate reality still retained the ruined aspect, like it was the main theme of the universe. 

She took a deep breath around the dread in her chest, filling up on the smoky, skanky beer flavored air, getting a dose of nausea instead of the extra oxygen she needed. She glanced over at the antiquated jukebox in the center of one wall that spewed foreign lyrics. Oh but the tune was the same, waltzing you into yesterdays never to be regained, and tomorrows never to be realized, effectively stealing the here and now. 

 Her gut twisted with nervous energy and she again contemplated a shot of whisky. Her temper tantrum that had her ass on that barstool waiting for the Mr. Amazing Dante Grayson waned at such close proximity.
 
Her heart stopped in her chest when a man came through the rectangular cavity in the antique colored wall. Since Dante had no clue what she actually looked like, staring was permitted. 

It was him. Finally. 

The butterflies in her stomach whipped out chainsaws and went to work taking apart her spine. Should’ve had that whisky. He sat maybe three seats away from the far end of the bar, still close enough for her to observe. And observe she did. God, look at him. The bastard was cuter in real life. And he was clean shaven! Fate was such a bastard prick. Probably Dante’s first cousin. Her hands tingled with the urge to touch him. Everywhere. All at once.

She wiggled in her seat, only adding to the sudden frustration between her thighs. How many times had she experienced that sweet torment with him? And now that the man sat in walking distance, she had an oh shit, what am I doing moment. She was such a fool to pretend she’d ever had some kind of power over her heart with him, all while pain bled her soul with the brutal indifference of…Dante fucking Grayson.
 
The mocking echo, how could you let this happen, how could you let this happenhummed through her head. She avoided the question of how could he? That one, she’d reserved to ask in person. If she were able to gain an audience beyond the exterior of the man.   

Dumb bitch. That’s what he made her feel like. With no effort whatsoever, he just made her feel feel feel like a dumb stupid bitch. She had to finish this with him. She couldn’t dangle like a loose tooth by a string of bleeding flesh, she had to fucking end this and how else but to confront him. In person. She would make him say it. That he had no interest in her beyond intellectual frolicking.

He glanced her way and she held her breath. Her heart throbbed in her chest in that painful rhythm. That was his rhythm. He’d put it there. Anytime she thought of him, every buried passion she’d possessed, bloomed and bled to its tune.

She released a light gasp when his gaze pin-balled back to home base—the counter and all things opposite her. First test passed. Well sort of. He’d claimed he wasn’t swayed by women’s beauty. Not that she was gorgeous, but surely worth a lingering stare, or second glance. 

Her heart raced with each passing minute. She gripped her beer bottle and watched him light up one of those strange looking cigarettes. Her eyes zeroed in on his lips as they parted to cradle the cancer device. All those fantasies of him kissing her surfaced like the mad cow disease. She swallowed the raw passion and hunger, hardening her jaw. She didn’t need his kiss. She wouldn’t pretend she didn’t want it. Maybe she should take it. Just to show him she could. 

A scenario of pressing her mouth to his ensued from the hellish passion. She bit her lower lip. Could she? Dare she?

She spent the next minute working up the nerve to kick off the first play. The play that bypassed his own game of sifting women before saying yes to bringing them home. And the golden key was using other means besides sex. Her heart ached at remembering how utterly beautiful he was inside. His heart, his brain. God his brain. Talking to him had been like foreplay for her. How many times had she considered touching herself while engaging him in paragraphs of orgasmic smartness?

Shame burned her cheeks at what he'd reduced her to. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the fire had burned both ways.  But his emotions toward her were dead as a dead end street
.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Coming March 1st.

We here at Rayder Publications are proud to announce the release of Muse E-magazine. This magazine is designed to charter to the arts and you are interesting in the arts. Whether you are into literary, graphic or audio when hope share this passion with you in the coming months and hopefully longer. We sincerely hope that you will join here at Rayder Publications and Laughing Horse Media.


CGI now a Service.

Over the coming months our parent company Laughing Horse Media will be offering Computer Graphic Imagery to our customers. Within the last month they have had requests for such imagery from clients of the indie literary world. Here we present a few examples. Hope you enjoy and should you have any questions or which to inquire about our product please feel free to contact me. This is only the beginning.












Friday, January 11, 2013

Chasing the Dragon


Arrival

It has been said that man's greatest addiction is a woman. For some men this addiction is so strong that like any addiction it destroys them, then there are those that this addiction barely registers. I once knew a man who would be in the latter category. Some might even say he was celibate, no one ever said he was gay, not even a murmur. Unlike most men he was not very good when talking to the opposite gender, sometimes he talked a little to much to the point of just rambling and would smoke like a factory's stack. Most generally he was a quiet man seeking solitude inside himself which made him one of the best in his line of work. You see, Martin was one of the best private investigators to be found in the North West. The folk told stories that Martin had been hired by the U.S. Marshals and the Royal Mounties in Canada to help investigate a multitude of crimes that baffled them.

When I first met Martin I was just a young prospector who had come out to Montana Territory to make my lot. I had arrived in the Territory Capital of Virginia City on June 12th 1866, barely twenty-five of age I stumbled into a saloon. It was near mid-afternoon and the saloon was mostly empty except the bar-maid, a bulging red-headed man chatting it up with the bar-maid and a average sized man in a long brown duster with his hat pulled over his brow, this man I had nearly missed if it had not been for the unique smell of the tobacco he smoked. He sat in the corner of the saloon penning something in a notebook. I set my pack by a stool and took a seat at the bar, ordered a pint of beer. As I sat there enjoying the taste of a lukewarm ale two dusty men with rifles slung over their shoulders that I take to be some form of law enforcement here in the territory enter the saloon. One of them is an older gent, in his mid-fifties with a whitening mustache looks around until he finds the man sitting in the corner, writing in a note-book. Both riflemen walk over to the man and sat across from him after the younger man, a tall, skinny blond and blue eyed fellow around my age, order a bottle of whiskey to be brought over. Between me a the man in the corner is only a span of nearly thirty paces, just close enough where I can pick up the conversation but far enough not to draw attention. What I heard would change my life from that day on and in more ways than I could have ever imagine.

We found another body up on Antelope Bluff, it looks the same as the last.” The older man tries to whisper to the man across from him but can't manage such a hushed tone.

You and your boy thought it was one of the Crow trappers that came in. If I remember you even hung the half blood Crow two months ago. Stating that you have solved the crime of the murder on Antelope Bluff. Now you have a fresh kill, exact type to the first you say? So that means you hung the wrong man. What will you tell Mrs. Lewis now?” The man in the corner says in a voice barely audible tone but as cold as icicles pressed through one's heart.

Who is Mrs. Lewis?” The younger man speaks up looking back and forth between the two men.

Once again the man in the corner speaks, raising his head a bit, “The half blood Crow's wife. Guess that detail never came up in you investigation, nor the fact that she is with child. So what do you want from me Mason.” He says turning to the older man.

I would like you to look into this matter.”

Why should I. I can't think of any reason for me to help with this. I am not a lawman.”

Look Trigger. You are the only one that knows about these chinks. Hell you lived among them for years in their country. You understand them.” The older man states, which has drawn the most curious, quizzical glance from his younger partner. “Hell you were married to what two of them.”

First of all Mason they are not chicks the are Chinese. Second I have little knowledge of the Chinese, I lived in Japan. Japanese and Chinese are very different in many ways. This I can assure you. Lastly who I was married to is none of your business.” The man in the corner snarls. “Anyways, why are you concerned about the Chinese? Do you think they have something to do with these murders now?”

Yes, I believe so. It is something we found carved onto the body and this.” Mason says handing a small green pendant to the man in the corner.

The man in the corner exams the piece for a couple of minutes then raises his head so that he is eye to eye with Mason. “Okay. I will take it. On a couple of conditions.”

What are they?”

No one is to be arrested until I say. I want to be sure. Second I will need to receive some form of payment, half up front. I believe fifty dollars will be fine.”

I can arrange the half of fifty to be sent to you this evening.”

You misunderstand Mason. Fifty is half, the full amount is a hun.”

Why so much? That is nearly double of what we paid you last year for the event with the stagecoach.” Says the young blond who's face has flushed red with anger.

Calm down Wallace, I am sorry to create a stir but I thought you heard that I have taken on an assistant.” Says the man in the corner.

Okay. I will make the arrangements for you to receive half payment of fifty dollar this evening. Thank you Trigger.” States Mason.

Mason, have the body sent over with the payment.” Trigger says as the two visitors stand up and start for the door. “Oh and Mason. The pendant's writing is not Chinese but rather Arabic. The murder is not one of ours Chinese friends.”

At the mention of Arabic, Mason falters a step, turns towards Trigger and tips his hat as he leaves.

Nearly finished with my beer I start thinking about where I will stay tonight or if I would rather stay here and enjoy my first night in the real wild west. When I turn back to my beer I find a folded paper. Looking back to where the man they called Trigger was sitting, the chair was empty. Looking around the saloon, like a ghost he was gone. Unfolding the paper, this is what it reads.

Early morning tomorrow. Go to the inn at the end of the street, your room. Miss Lim Cleaner, Sunrise.

Folding up the piece of paper and stuffing it into my pocket, I place two coins on the bar when I notice the bar-maid give me an odd look before she speaks. “Your boss paid everything. You must be new in town.”
Yes, ma'am.” Suspecting that the man she is referring to is the man called Trigger, “Where may I find Mr. Trigger?”

You mean Mr. Martin. No not really, I don't think he has a home around here, but the rumor is that he lives with the Chinese types on the north-eastern side of town.” Says the bar-maid.

I thank her as I pick up my pack and head out the door toward the inn that I am supposing that my new enigmatic employer has arranged. It seems as if the world is in a spin, here I am in the frontier and instead of trying to pan out my riches I am now employed by some man name Trigger Martin. Investigating a murder? What have I stepped into? What kind of name is Trigger? Maybe I should have stayed in Boston.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Suffering

There are many types of people who suffer from some form of Post Traumatic Syndrome Disorder, better know as PTSD. Victims of rape, accidents, explosions, terrorist attacks and combat related to only name a few. PTSD is something fairly new to our understanding, including in the medical field. The sad thing is that PTSD is in reality very old, documented suffers from period such as the fall of Rome, in these times up until five years ago PTSD was considered a form of depression or anxiety to be treated with the same conventional medication used to treat these symptoms. The main thing is the depression, anxiety and other symptoms combined together is PTSD brought on by some traumatic event. In the course of the next week I will be reviewing notes on the subject of PTSD and that of communication between opposite sexes. I tend to believe that a man suffering from PTSD, say brought on by his experience in war then he upon finding the right person of the opposite sex my be able to deal with his symptom a lot easier than a man who only communes with other men. Using the soldier for an example, we are held by our peers to remain stoic in the face of hardship and to keep pushing on, this is multiplied several fold when a soldier is communicating with a man who has never served in the Armed Services. If this soldier has an outlet, say a wife, girlfriend, sister or even just a female friend that they can trust and can just let go of the emotional trauma that they have experience these soldiers reintegration into the civilian world improves, with a higher reduction in the rate of depression, helplessness, anxiety, and suicide. Nearly thirty percent of men suffering from PTSD seek out a female confidant. This is not to be confused with a more intimate or sexual relationship but as a step to getting reintroduced to their feeling and being able to express themselves in a more normal fashion.Stay tuned for more as I will probably be editing this post and writing further post on the matter.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Rayder Publication

Rayder Publication is an entity of Laughing Horse Media. The purpose of Rayder Publication is to bring both daily life and travel advice, as well as a fresh perceptive on events happening in the Pacific Rim region, with a tad of literary fiction. We hope that you join us in our journey to bring understanding to the world around us.