Topher Lydon
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Everything posted by Topher Lydon
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You are presuming that Darien and Atreus's mother were wed, they were not. ergo FitzDarien
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read Chapter 1.
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Most of my stories that I have written are pre-written, I have a rather large back library. When I release it's usually months of years after they were written. Like the Prologue, that's a few years old, whereas this chapter was written this morning. I do write and insert chapters, or modify them, but straight write to publish, this is not something I typically do. (The last time was the Ottawa Tales chapters)
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Thank you so much to the readers, reviewers and commenters. The people who engage with these stories make it worthwhile. You guys are amazing. Thank you.
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I wrote a murder mystery that was going to go into this slot, but I am not happy with it... and it's got to sit while I think on it. Where as a light Western Adventure is easier to write. I have a plot idea I am working on this morning, I have two interesting characters, a third arriving in the next chapter... and an antagonist... so it's a matter of stitching it together and seeing where they take me. I'd rather release something I know will work, than something I know is broken and can't figure out how to fix (yet) (One dimensional protagonist... when the little brother of a secondary character is more compelling than your protagonist, there's a problem)
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Distant cousin of Jack as well.
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I wrote this prologue a long, long time ago... never really had an idea of what to do with it. Then I wrote Chapter one this morning and found the story clicked. Seeing where it takes me. It's been a while since I have released a story with ZERO idea what's coming next.
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Welcome back to the west. Our intrepid heroes have met, the road ahead of them, and an understanding beginning. FUZZ approves, if just the new one will sit still and let her use him as a new throne!
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The heavy, iron-wrought latch of the barn door gave way with a shriek of rusted metal that seemed to split the frozen night perfectly in two. For a fraction of a second, the boy hung suspended in the threshold, framed against the suffocating, humid darkness of the barn’s interior, before he threw himself forward into the merciless void of the winter storm. The cold did not merely greet him; it assaulted him. It was a physical wall of sub-zero wind that slammed into his bare, bruised chest,
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01 The mud of the early spring thaw was a living, breathing adversary—a thick, sucking porridge of half-melted snow, decayed leaves, and churning brown earth that seemed determined to drag Devon into the ground. Every step was a conscious, agonizing effort. His slight frame was pushed to the very edge of endurance, his thin legs trembling as the mud clamped around his ankles like wet cement. He was walking barefoot. The boots were gone. The heavy coat, the meager pack of sca
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The year is 1891, and the Wild West is dying. Alvarez is a smartly dressed, smooth-talking bandito riding north with a stolen fortune, a lethal six-shooter, and one very spoiled cat. He travels alone, until he finds a half-frozen boy bleeding in the cold mud. Devon is an exile, violently banished from his Mennonite community and hunted by the very boys who broke him. As they ride together, Devon's cold logic clashes with Alvarez's flashy chaos. Slowly, the pinstriped killer and the battered runaway must learn to trust each other before the past catches up to them both.
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Baldwin wears a crown of hypocrisy. He's desperate to regain some authority after his disastrous defeat at Tarsus, and his craven actions in Edessa. Having his Nephew killed is a blow to his pride. He needs to find out who this challenger is.
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shhhhhhhhh don't spill my secrets
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I believe so... Baaaaaaaaaa
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Seb, funnily enough, is the one who knows about hounds. I try to keep them balanced through the book each one bringing something to the table.
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The descent toward the Jordan River Valley was a descent into a furnace. As they left the jagged, limestone altitudes of the Judean hills behind them, the landscape flattened and widened, opening into a vast, sprawling expanse of cracked earth and shifting dunes. The air here was different. It lacked the biting chill of the highlands at night, replaced instead by a stagnant, heavy heat that seemed to radiate from the very core of the earth. The sun did not merely shine; it struck the groun
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Chapter 13: THE ART OF THE DEPARTURE
Topher Lydon commented on Topher Lydon's story chapter in Chapter 13: THE ART OF THE DEPARTURE
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Chapter 13: THE ART OF THE DEPARTURE
Topher Lydon commented on Topher Lydon's story chapter in Chapter 13: THE ART OF THE DEPARTURE
I am fairly certain he doesn't know what poop is... he just likes the word and see's everyone else using the room, demands to be included. -
Chapter 13: THE ART OF THE DEPARTURE
Topher Lydon commented on Topher Lydon's story chapter in Chapter 13: THE ART OF THE DEPARTURE
Gremlin comes pelting it out of the bathroom, screaming "The man's eyes WATCHING me while I POOP! I demand PRIVACY!" -
Chapter 13: THE ART OF THE DEPARTURE
Topher Lydon commented on Topher Lydon's story chapter in Chapter 13: THE ART OF THE DEPARTURE
Now Isaiah's gotta figure out where on the ship he's going to hang a Rembrandt...
