Secondary Character? Still First Rate!

Welcome to the Paranormal Blog Tour! I am so pleased to be your first stop!

In paranormal fiction, secondary characters still need a first rate quality. They’re like ushers helping the MC and the readers find their way through your bizarre universe. Here’s an example from my novel, The Calling of Mike Malone. This is Mike’s meeting with Reverend Hazel Lumski, a character who functions around the edges of the story, but adds so much. She becomes the perfect introduction to a new, strange chapter in Mike’s life. She’s a New Age medium who enjoys, among other things, Chicago basketball, cigars and…speaking to the dead. Let’s meet her!

…Mike rang the bell again, and in a moment he found himself staring down at the Reverend Hazel Lumski, a woman who stood about four foot nothing. Her red hair was wrapped in a tidy bun, and she wore what he thought the ladies called a peasant dress, with puffy sleeves and gingham print, an earth tone shawl draped her shoulders.

Thinking he might punch Rudy for sending him to some weird, middle-aged spinster, he forced a smile and said, “Good afternoon, Reverend. I’m—”

“Michael Sean Malone,” she briskly informed him. “You were born almost twenty-one years ago here in Chicago, your mother is alive and retired to Florida, your friends say you work much too hard, you listen to old rock and roll, you’re a Cubs fan, and you keep a special stash of money in your briefcase in an envelope marked business. Your girlfriend’s name is Linda. Please come in. Rudy, it is good to see you again.”

“Been way too long, Reverend.”

Closing his gaping mouth, Mike stepped into the house.

“Let me take your coat, Mr. Malone.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, still stunned. “How-how did you know all that? Not even Rudy knows about my money stash.”

“Ha, now I do,” Rudy said.

The Reverend smiled sweetly. “It wasn’t I, dear. It’s one of the many spirits I see surrounding you and vying for your attention!


The Rev never loses her ‘take charge’ attitude throughout the story. She is ruled by her willingness to discuss the incredibly weird as if they are just things we should take for granted…


…Mike swung one leg off the saddle and landed lightly on the floor.

“If I hear the word calling one more time! Reverend Lumski, among other things, my father is a cannibal.”

“No, no.” She wagged her annoying finger the same way she had at their very first meeting. “One can only be a cannibal by devouring one’s own kind. We are not his kind. He is a god. A creature far superior to us all. To the smaller minded, his behavior may well appear extreme.”

Mike said, “I’m warning you. If you stay here, and he gets bored with you, or you quit being useful, you will end up on the menu.” He pushed his way past her and started up the stairway. “Forget it, I’m getting the girl.”

“That’s not the right way.” She pointed down the first floor hall.

“And I should believe you, why?”

“Because your father told me to give you anything you wanted.”

“Sure, give me Linda.”

“Manners!”

He paused. “Please give me Linda?”…”


What can I say? Reverend Lumski is the result of immersion. I interviewed people who truly believe in strange things. For instance, a friend of mine, Guy Malone, ran the UFO Festival in Roswell New Mexico for a number of years and also had a radio program called, ‘Live from Roswell.’ Go to the chat room of a show like that and some of the folks you meet can be extremely interesting. I had a conversation with one woman that went like this:

Woman: “The Tall Whites spoke to me last night.”

Me: “Who are the Tall Whites?”

Woman: “They’re the alien race that lives among us. They are the gods returning home.”

Me: “Well, what did they say?”

Woman: “They said, ‘Soon.’ “

I know, creepy, huh? And you can call her words the result of over-whelming awe or a lack of medication, but after an extended conversation one thing was clear: the woman believed everything she said like you or I believe in gravity. In a paranormal story the hero or heroine may be terrified or confused due to circumstances, but if you’ve written a solid secondary character they become like a cemented sign-post announcing, “This is how we’re going to play…”

Like Reverend Lumski….

"…Thank you,” Mike said, nervous, avoiding her eyes. “But I think I’d better go.” He stuffed the medallion into his breast pocket, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.

The ever pleasant, kindly voice of the reverend stopped him again. “Aren’t you curious? Don’t you wish to speak with your father? You can, you know. You will think about it, won’t you? I promise I won’t let any harm come to you.”

He stared at her, thunderstruck. Talk to my Dad? My Dad is dead you freaking witch!

Outside his head he merely stammered, “Sure-sure, I’ll think about it,” knowing full well he would push the entire episode from his mind as soon as possible.

Reverend Lumski’s last words took aim like a poisoned arrow. “It never pays to lie, Mr. Malone…"

_________________

Thank you very much for coming! I hope you enjoyed it! I have PDF copies of Mike Malone for the first five ‘creative’ comments. And everyone, thank you again for stopping by!

Death to the Lizards!

In the smoky back room of a Bay City coffee house Tim Marks peered out at the crowd. His turn next. Into his fifties he knew he was way too old for this shit. But the back alley was the perfect set-up for what he needed. The prep; simple, effective.

Young punks, teens and twenties, sat in the audience amidst masses of self generated fog from the cigarettes they openly puffed. They lifted coffee mugs to their lips to sip substances with far more punch than coffee. This was an underground club, a place where children of the wealthy gathered to be bad. Some could wake up, but not all.

He spotted them. The offspring of the elite. Deja Monique, daughter of movie star Vu Monique sat next to Sunset Diamond, son of music mogul, Dave Diamond. Dressed in chic black and stylish, bored expressions, they sat, eyes peering.
Time to see if they’d fall from the tree.

As he stepped on stage, his back-up band hit and sustained a C-five triad. Tim felt the sounds waves wash over him like a clean, mountain stream. The sound of the chord made Deja and Sunset twitch. The rest of his audience raised their voices in approval.

But inside he knew they still craved blood.

He picked up the mic and over the din of cheers asked, “Got your lizard stomping shoes on?”

Expressions changed to amused, half-drunk raucous cries of, “Yeah!” and “Death to the lizards!” filled the room.

Yeah, just a roomful of spoiled, dumb kids, programmed to the hilt. But Tim knew if he kept pulling back the layers and layers of implanted ideas and actions, a few of them had a chance.

He lowered his voice. “Yeah, death to them…” the crowd hushed wanting to hear. “You know how the show goes…keep it quiet first, but help me sing…ahhh…”
In whispered voices the crowd sang, “…ahhh…”

The sound shimmered across the room. Tim could see it in their eyes; the ones who’d been to his show before had a light in them. Not a bright light, more like a pin-prick. Still, it meant they were coming back to life. He glanced at Deja and Diamond. Both stared daggers at him and their eyes…not black, but a sick jaundice yellow. Yeah, easy pickings.

He continued in the same awestruck, whisper and sang a third above the current note, “Ladies….ahhhh….”

“…ahh…”

He took the note a fifth above the first on and said, “Band sings, ahhhh…”

“Ahhh…”

He let the tones hang in the air a moment until the sound of raw, human voices filled the club with it’s holy sound. He cut them off. Even in a room of drunk rowdy, over-grown children, the sound gave them pause.

“There…” he whispered. “You feel it. Our weapon against the evil…and we know it’s there…”

His bass player struck a low, ominous note to the rhythm of a heart beat.

“You know they’re around when nothing makes sense. The man tells you he needs more tax money because he has to spend it…to make more money. It makes no sense. The man will tell you he is good, but does more evil than the worlds biggest sinner. Remember your note and sing louder….ahhh!…”

“Ahhh!”

The harmony wrapped around his soul and lifted him. Once again, he would do this.
“Yeah,” he said and his audience quieted. Deja and Sunset twitched and gazed at each other uncomfortable. Oh, don’t even think about getting away.

“Hey!” a voice called, “I wanna know something’.”

Tim waved for his band to halt. “Let the man speak,” he said.

The punk stood, a plaid fedora on his head, black coat with blue jeans and dangling black tie. He teetered and bowed. “Thank you, uh…” a loud belch erupted from the bottom of his gut.

Laughter mixed with comments:

“Aw…sit down, Loser!”

“You suck!”

The Punk raised an index finger and wagged it at the group. “No, no, no! I jes’ wanna know one freakin’, stinkin’, thing. Izzat okay?”

A shout from behind told the Punk, “Sit down before you fall down!”

“Let him speak,” said Tim.

The punk straightened himself and gave a silly bow. “Thank you, sir. You are a scholar ‘han a gentleman. All I wanna know is one or two little things…”

“Dude, the whole show is waiting on you. Speak.”

“’Hokay. Why do you hate lizards? Whud they ever do to you?”

Tim laughed. “I don’t hate them for the hell of it. If I hated them I’d screw up, then they’d catch me. It’s all self-defense. They declared war on us along time ago and I’m just a soldier behind enemy lines.”

The Punk stared at him open mouthed a minute then burst into laughter. “Dude! You are so out there, yer in!” He thrust a fist into the air. “Yeah! Death to the freakin’ man! Death to the lizards!”

“Who-hoo!”

Tim spoke into the mic, “Time to call ‘em out…”

He stared down his audience and sang...

"Why’d it take so long for me to see that if I don’t kill you, you’ll sure as hell kill me?

I’m walking, I’m talking, I’ll say to you today, that if you don’t back up I’ll blow you all away….

Death to the Lizards!”

The audience leaped and replied, “Death to the lizards!”

“Death to the Lizards?”

“Death to the Lizards!”

“I live out here in the valley of the shadow, keeping it low…lower than your muther,
If you see me comin’ and you haven’t run yet, you better make tracks cuz  I’m your angel death, Death to the Lizards!”

“Death to the Lizards!”

“I quench my thirst with the river of life, so look out bitch, I’m down for this fight…Right? Rights? You wanna hear your rights? In the name of Jesus Christ, you better take flight.

 Death to the Lizards. Sing! Ahhhh-ahhhh-ahhhh!"

“Ahhhh-ahhhh-ahhhh!”

“Ooooh-oooh-ooooh!

“Ooooh-ooooh-oooh…”

It happened in a nano-second. Deja and Sunset vanished. Next, the scream.

“Lizards! Oh, my freaking God! Lizards!”

Waves of fright and commotion sent people hurtling towards the exits, but his roadies blocked the ways. “C’mon people it’s part of the show!”

“What the hell?”

Tim noted that these looked like giant, black iguana-like creatures. Deja and Sunset ran back and forth in sheer confusion for a moment, then roared and plunged, as Tim had thought they would, out the east exit. Close to the sewer.

“I got this!” Tim bellowed into the mic. “Sit down and get ready!”

He leaped from the stage and plowed out the back door. In the alley the two juveniles waited for him. The young ones always waited, still arrogant enough to think they had a chance. Sunsets side frills exploded from either side of his neck. Deja recoiled with a loud hiss. Tim yanked the already silenced Rueger from his side holster and shot them both in the head. Shovel parked by the exit, he used it to flip open the storm drain and stuff the massive lizards down, enjoying splash sound as they were being washed away. He dumped the bucket of bleach water he’d also parked outside, just to rinse any blood away, and returned to back stage.

The two stuffed heads they used for props were placed by the back curtain. Tim snatched them each by a head spike and hoisted them high as he stalked back onto the stage.

The band had started a rock song, some kids were dancing some still watched the battle video. When Tim re-appeared wild, insane cheers broke out.

“Yeah!” he shouted. “They tell you what to think, how to feel, what you ought to be!” He threw the heads back stage and cried, “Remember what you were meant to be and be it!”

“Yeah!”

He waited for the cheers to die down before an amused smile nudged across his lips.

“All right ya’ll,” he said, “wait till ya hear our next song…”


 

The Calling of Mike Malone and what "They" aren't Telling You

It starts with a prophet named Enoch.

Genesis 5:24 And Enoch walked with God: and he [was] not; for God took him.
Hebrews 11:5 By faith Enoch was translated that he should not see death; and was not found, because God had translated him: for before his translation he had this testimony, that he pleased God.

Yes, that Enoch. Great-Grandfather of Noah. His revelations were passed down generation after generation until being compiled in the Book of Enoch.

Here's what else the Bible tells us about the man:

Genesis 5:18-24
18 Jared lived one hundred and sixty-two years, and begot Enoch.
19 After he begot Enoch, Jared lived eight hundred years, and had sons and daughters.
20 So all the days of Jared were nine hundred and sixty-two years; and he died.
21 Enoch lived sixty-five years, and begot Methuselah.
22 After he begot Methuselah, Enoch walked with God three hundred years, and had sons and daughters.
23 So all the days of Enoch were three hundred and sixty-five years.
24 And Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him.

And that's all.

In the book of Noah, Noah says this :

Enoch 68:1
And after that my great-grandfather Enoch gave me all the secrets in the book and in the parables which had been given to him, and he put them together for me in the words of the book of the parables.

What secrets? Well, that's where it gets interesting.

The KJV tells us that one third of all the angels were cast down to earth and the unspoken question about Enoch becomes, “What was it like to be alive and kicking at that time?”

The book of Enoch tells us these Fallen angels, the 'sons of God' wanted to be treated like gods. They brought technologies to the earth that were the equivalent of handing a loaded gun to a three year old. They mated with earth women, and, as you can imagine, two different species getting together like that produced some horrible, freakish creatures. They were the Nephilim, the giants who devoured human flesh—and by the way, ever wonder why most counties have legends and tales about flesh eating giants living in caves around their land?

Our image of the Halloween witch comes from Enoch: the wives of the Fallen were taught occult secrets and the use of strange herbs.

But God called the 'secrets' the Fallen took with them 'useless secrets.' It was just enough to impress the greedy among us, and when has man not been greedy? The Fallen turned the hearts of men towards evil continually, and that triggered the Noatian Flood.

Before all of that happened, however, God sent this little Prophet named Enoch to pronounce His judgment on the Fallen angels. This man judged the angels. Just for a minute, can you imagine being on earth when these Fallen angels walked among us as wonderful, god-like, however, evil creatures? And there you are, sent to pronounce doom on someone bigger and far more powerful than you've ever felt in your entire life. You get to show up and tell them they're damned for all time.

Afterwards they constantly sought out Enoch, screaming, begging, pleading for him to go before God and intercede for them. But like the Flood event where there was a span of at least one hundred years in which anyone could have joined Noah on board the ark, at last, the door closed and the rains began. The time to do the right thing had passed.

So why isn't 'Enoch' part of the Bible? I mean, it doesn't contradict scripture concerning the last days. For instance:

Enoch 46:1-2
1 There I beheld the Ancient of days whose head was like white wool, and with him another, whose countenance resembled that of a man. His countenance was full of grace, like that of one of the holy angels. Then I inquired of one of the angels, who went with me, and who showed me every secret thing, concerning this Son of man; who he was; whence he was; and why he accompanied the Ancient of days.
2 He answered and said to me, This is the Son of man, to whom righteousness belongs; with whom righteousness has dwelt; and who will reveal all the treasures of that which is concealed: for the Lord of spirits has chosen him; and his portion has surpassed all before the Lord of spirits in everlasting uprightness."

Compare that to the Bible-

Revelation 1:10-18
10 I was in the Spirit on the Lord's day, and heard behind me a great voice, as of a trumpet,
11 Saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: and, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven churches which are in Asia; unto Ephesus, and unto Smyrna, and unto Pergamos, and unto Thyatira, and unto Sardis, and unto Philadelphia, and unto Laodicea.
12 And I turned to see the voice that spake with me. And being turned, I saw seven golden candlesticks;
13 And in the midst of the seven candlesticks one like unto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle.
14 His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire;
15 And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters.
16 And he had in his right hand seven stars: and out of his mouth went a sharp twoedged sword: and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength.
17 And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first and the last:
18 I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death.

Most of the other things in Enoch are basically things the canonical scriptures just don't handle.

Part of the problem, I understand. The stories of Enoch remained an oral tradition for the most part. They were things “everybody knew” back in the day. Maybe they wanted to keep it that way. What we have of the book is in fragments, the first part 'The Book of the Watchers” was written down around 300 BC. And the Book of Parables came much later. So, some argue, it was not actually penned by Enoch.

Well, Genesis wasn't penned by Adam, either. Moses took his knowledge of past events, another oral tradition, and placed them on parchment. What would be the problem with the writers of Enoch doing the same thing?

Even still, the book, remained part of Jewish Canon until 90 AD and Christians didn't discard it until after 364 AD. The Apostle Mark took the known scriptures back to Ethiopia where he remained a witness for Jesus Christ and the Book of Enoch remains in the Ethiopian Bible to this day. So was Mark wrong? Why was the Catholic church so anxious to leave it out of the Bible?

Oh, there's answers, but don't you smell a conspiracy coming?

We'll talk more about that end of it later, but if you were a Fallen angel, which book would you want kept out of the Bible?

However, this discarded book that tells you about Enoch and what he did, the book everybody used to know, that churches now avoid and don't wish to share with you, now forms the basis for The Calling of Mike Malone.

See you next time as we begin to discuss the conspiracy.