検索キーワード： 著者 "Dan Fowler" すべてのカテゴリー

Alexander, Alex to his friends, sat on a wobbly wooden chair much too large for him. At his kitchen window, he spent time alone watching the raindrops slide slowly down the uneven window panes and fall onto the window sill. His childhood wrecked by turmoil and deprivation, was not unlike all of the other children in the coal camps that filled the hollers. The houses, nothing more than lap siding and rusting nails, held many dark secrets, many untold stories, and many hateful words.

The two friends continued their conversation, unaware that their seemingly innocent banter was about to take a dramatic turn. Unseen by them, a black sedan with tinted windows pulled up to the curb a few feet away. Two men in suits stepped out and approached, their eyes focused solely on Mark.

Echoes, the book, is a collection of dreams, memories, thoughts, and motivations--comments meant to inspire and encourage those who may have traveled the same roads. Echoes is a book that will be a continuing work as I add new memories and comments over the years for my granddaughter, Astrid. This collection is a gift to her to remember me long after I've ascended.

When I found out the truth about the ‘hunt’, I could hardly believe it. It held me in a state of disbelief. Yet, having witnessed it myself firsthand, there was no way of denying that it wasn’t real. Not all of the men who went into the valley’s forest to hunt returned alive. It was a risk that each of us understood and accepted as a fact of life. It was, at least for me and my brothers, something that we’d wanted to do, no, something that was expected of us to complete before we became much older.

Poetry created for Astrid, my grandchild.

This is a story of how one’s dreams can usually be obtained, but only by hard work and determination, and those one or two people we may not even consider to be our friend's encouragement along the way. It’s a story of pathways that converge at a point that leaves a lasting impression on us, only to go their separate ways and make us lose hope of ever finding that pathway that touched our hearts so deeply .

A long time ago, in valleys squeezed between mountains that reached into the heavens, the workers of the mines in a place named Sorrows pushed through the snow and rain to provide for the needs of their families. They descended into the depths of the earth, a place where many wouldn't dare go, to dig out a living in a dark dimly lit place where some never returned. Paid pennies for their back-breaking work, they often supplemented the needs of their families by growing gardens and raising livestock. It was a common sight in the valleys along a lazy river that snaked through the mountainsides.