Taking place on the crack infested, gang riddled streets of Oklahoma City... between the years of 89-93... a web of betrayal and murder is weaved as four young violent gang members push their viscous brand of justice... but with each body, the plot thickens as betrayal darkens and rises to an explosive climax that you will never see coming. Written in detailed, raw, first person script, this tale will have you gasping for air and holding on to your seat with each roller coaster like twist...
Examining archival material and post-war scholarly and popular literature, Kranjc describes the often sharp divide between Communist-era interpretations of collaboration and those of their émigré anti-Communist opponents.
I was profoundly touched by evil at the dawn of my life and have been haunted by the experience throughout most of my life. My mother was poisoned before my eyes at about age four; I grew up on that that fateful day and became aware of myself. I was touched by evil and the wickedness of man against man at the dawn of my life. She died an agonizing and horrible death. The room I shared with her smelled like rotten fl esh or putrefi ed meat before her death. But the last time I saw her on earth she looked radiant and was miraculously transformed when I saw her seated in the village square for public viewing. She was at peace, the lines and marks of pain and anguish etched on her face as she lay dying were smoothed out. Her countenance was peaceful devoid of the expressions of agony and pains the hallmark of the last three to four months of her life. She was beautiful in death than during the last months of her life; death gave her peace. I did not know it but I was affected or infl uenced by the events of my mother s last days on earth. I do not fear death and whenever I came close to death I was more concerned about the inconvenience my death would have imposed on others than fear for my life. Death is not a bogey man. About a year after her death I encountered malicious spirits in the bush. I did not know the spirits were not human but I was apprehensive and fearful at the sight of little people under the fruit tree on which I sat. The spirits chased me from the bush to the village; during the chase the earth opened up and swallowed me for my protection. And not to be outdone the spirits followed me into the bowels of the earth. That was the second time in my young life that I was touched by evil of a different kind; I nearly died from the encounter with the malicious spirits. I was reunited with a father I did not know I had before my mother s death. But about three years after I was reunited with him he walked out on my new family; my stepmother and her children. Thus by age seven or eight I had gone through two broken homes. First, my mother walked out on my father when I was a baby and second my father walked out on my new mother and half siblings. For most of my life I was haunted by forces of darkness, malevolent spirits and scary nightmares from time to time. Scary and haunting nightmares led me to discover the power of prayer very early in life. I started praying before going to bed when I was in class three and the nightly nightmares ceased until I was a young adult and went to St. John Bosco s College. I discovered alcohol and began ignoring and skipping my nightly prayers or prayed haphazardly without heart and the nightmares came back. I was hospitalized about fi ve times in one year from the effects of a nightmare and vision when I was a student at the University of Science & Technology, Kumasi... Divided by Faith United by Love My father was a tolerant Muslim; he did not foist his faith on the rest of the family. My stepmother followed no particular faith or organized religion until the last days of her life. She was animist; she worshipped our ancestral spirits and deities. I became a Catholic or Christian by virtue of education, my father made no attempt to convert me to Islam. The family while together was united by love not by faith; each member followed his/her own faith. I could not reconcile my new faith with my parents and realized that but for love we would not have known peace in our family. We are divided by faith but united by love that was the experience from my upbringing. My lack of blind faith is infl uenced by my upbringing. Man as God and Satan. I understand the meaning of some popular bible passages different from most because of my experience of the forces of darkness, my struggle in life against evil, witchcraft and malicious spirits. I understand the true meaning of the passage in Luke 17-20-21 ------For indeed the kingdom of God is within you . And the adm
Too many good cops have learned, through the Code of Silence, to tolerate bad cops and too many bad apples have escaped consequences as a result. This is a nationwide problem that is undermining the quality and legitimacy of good police work. Most cops don't start their careers believing the ends justify the means, so how did they get that way? We all make mistakes, and somewhere, sometime, we all "walk with the Devil."
Originally written in 1938 but never published due to its controversial nature, an insightful guide reveals the seven principles of good that will allow anyone to triumph over the obstacles that must be faced in reaching personal goals.
This important book from a Pulitzer Prize finalist follows the brutal journey a group of men take to cross the Mexican border: "the single most compelling, lucid, and lyrical contemporary account of the absurdity of U.S. border policy" (The Atlantic). In May 2001, a group of men attempted to cross the Mexican border into the desert of southern Arizona, through the deadliest region of the continent, the "Devil's Highway." Three years later, Luis Alberto Urrea wrote about what happened to them. The result was a national bestseller, a Pulitzer Prize finalist, a "book of the year" in multiple newspapers, and a work proclaimed as a modern American classic.
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY The New York Times Book Review • The Washington Post • Publishers Weekly New Hyde Hospital’s psychiatric ward has a new resident. It also has a very, very old one. Pepper is a rambunctious big man, minor-league troublemaker, working-class hero (in his own mind), and, suddenly, the surprised inmate of a budget-strapped mental institution in Queens, New York. He’s not mentally ill, but that doesn’t seem to matter. He is accused of a crime he can’t quite square with his memory. In the darkness of his room on his first night, he’s visited by a terrifying creature with the body of an old man and the head of a bison who nearly kills him before being hustled away by the hospital staff. It’s no delusion: The other patients confirm that a hungry devil roams the hallways when the sun goes down. Pepper rallies three other inmates in a plot to fight back: Dorry, an octogenarian schizophrenic who’s been on the ward for decades and knows all its secrets; Coffee, an African immigrant with severe OCD, who tries desperately to send alarms to the outside world; and Loochie, a bipolar teenage girl who acts as the group’s enforcer. Battling the pill-pushing staff, one another, and their own minds, they try to kill the monster that’s stalking them. But can the Devil die? The Devil in Silver brilliantly brings together the compelling themes that spark all of Victor LaValle’s radiant fiction: faith, race, class, madness, and our relationship with the unseen and the uncanny. More than that, it’s a thrillingly suspenseful work of literary horror about friendship, love, and the courage to slay our own demons. Praise for The Devil in Silver “A fearless exploration of America’s heart of darkness . . . a dizzying high-wire act.”—The Washington Post “LaValle never writes the same book and his recent is a stunner. . . . Fantastical, hellish and hilarious.”—Los Angeles Times “It’s simply too bighearted, too gentle, too kind, too culturally observant and too idiosyncratic to squash into the small cupboard of any one genre, or even two.”—The New York Times Book Review “Embeds a sophisticated critique of contemporary America’s inhumane treatment of madness in a fast-paced story that is by turns horrifying, suspenseful, and comic.”—The Boston Globe “LaValle uses the thrills of horror to draw attention to timely matters. And he does so without sucking the joy out of the genre. . . . A striking and original American novelist.”—The New Republic
