Excerpt from ELIJAH RISING, takes place during the Progressive Era, the 1920's..."shades of The Great Gatsby.."
Oh, hell and damnation. They were at it again, trying to make us all bone dry. Are we not sensible men who can regulate our own drink? And what of the poor sots who hang out on the streets? What will be their resort? The drinking is not the root of the problem. They’ll only find something else. So, I suppose I’m off to the last chance before the double taxes take us over. Gibson rye for $23.00 a case. You’d drink too if you had read this story:
A young man walked into Pennsylvania Station not intending to go anywhere. He was about thirty years old, five feet three inches and estimated at one hundred and fifteen pounds. He was wearing a blue serge suit and a black or brown derby with matching overcoat. (There was some disagreement among the witnesses as to the true color of his clothes.) Yes, his shoes were probably black or dark brown. But all in all he was well dressed and clean-shaven. He looked like a presentable young gentleman. He then shouted to the crowd something like: Well, people, I had a good time in this world. I’ve traveled all over and now I don’t have anything left. Don’t think who I am or where I might come from. It is not important. Then he pulled out a silver stopwatch and looked at it. Those who glanced up at the station clock said it was three-thirty. He took a gun out of his coat pocket, put it to his head and pulled the trigger. Perhaps he was bone dry, too. The incident was the great subject of discussion at Mac’s. There were varying opinions. I think he came home to a family and had no money to take care of them, so there you go. Oh no, said Mike O’Mally, it was the war that done it. He just kept hearing the bombs go off in his head and couldn’t take it anymore. Well, Mike’s rendition was easy to believe, because Mike was in the war and came back. He had lost one leg, though, and said that he was just about good for nothing. He was looking though. Maybe them unions will help me, he said. But Peter Pikes had the best estimation. He said that the young man was little, that’s what the evidence said, so he probably didn’t even go to the war. He had been hiding like those damned pacifists all the war years. And now he comes out and people ask him how did the war go and he's got nothing to say. They keep asking and asking until he can’t take it anymore. So’s he ups and blows his fool head off. Yeah, we all grumbled, raising our glasses in unison: Here’s to the guy who blew his head off. Good riddance.
My book is now available in Kindle, Nook, e-book formats, paperback almost everywhere!
Read first chapter here: http://elijahrising.com
(I've posted many excerpts on my previous blog and would be glad to post more if anyone asks)