‘Fever Season’ Prologue: India Ink
I imagine, in all our lives, there comes a moment when we realize we are teetering 
precariously. Those wobbly moments of greatest fear, shock or sorrow are the ones that stick in our hearts leaving an indelible stain much like an upturned bottle of India ink seeping into the carpet or soaking into the deepest grain of the wood floor. I reckon it’s the same with that flickering gaslight between life and death where everything sharpens, clear-like, and only the important things – the beautiful pearls – remain in your head. Only the thrum of your beating heart assures you there is yet one foot staid in this sad world. . .
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‘Gold Fever’: First Chapter
Philadelphia, January 1870. John Raymond cried out in the dark, jerking himself from his nightmare in a fever sweat. His heart was pounding like a drum. Rolling to his back, he stared at the dark ceiling as he caught his breath, willing his heartbeat to return to normal.
Pressing his palms into his eyes, he drew several long measured breaths. He never grew accustomed to these dreams. About the time he hoped perhaps they were behind him- one would creep in, like bind weed pushing through a narrow crack.
Tonight’s unsettling exercise was similar to others he had experienced…