Author: Daniel Black
Series: New Earth #1
Published Date: May 30, 2011
Buy it Links: Amazon
Synopsis: The time has come, Hells gates shall be thrown wide and the power of creation shall run rampant upon the earth.
In this, the first book of the “Saga of the New Gods,” a group of young college students bring about Armageddon in the most literal sense of the word. With a simple wish upon a unique wedding band given to him by his love, Michelle, Adam unleashes a power that could – if left to reign unchecked – destroy the entire world…
The story begins with a couple of young women, Chelsea and Michelle, bearers of a tragic past, fighting to create a future for themselves. They travel to an old pawn shop in the town of Athens, Ohio, and purchase a ring for Michelle to give to her love, Adam, in the hopes of becoming his wife. A poorly timed wish after the gift of the ring has dire consequences however, as magic enters the world. All that they know, or have known, begins to come unraveled as first their comfortable existence in this bucolic town is ripped from them, then their future. They reach their moment of greatest despair as one of their number flees, another lays near death, and another sleeps in a state akin to a coma… In this moment of vulnerability a man arrives offering a glimmer of hope, Mathew Banks, a federal officer, arrives with the dawn to take them to a place of safety and security. But what is secure when the very laws that govern reality begin to unravel? What is safe when those who watch over you risk change from day to day, moment to moment, and even those who are your closest friends deceive you and risk more than your lives, but the very souls that make you who you are?
This first story tells the tale of the creation of this new world, as the series continues you will rise to the heights of this world and others, and to the very depths of hell.
Old man Mcgilicuddy
The Cellar, Athens, Ohio
3:47 p.m., June 5th, 2021
The small bell above the door to the pawnshop tinkled pleasantly as the two girls
entered, laughing about something said before they’d come in.
The girls could not appear more different. One was tall and boyishly thin,
somewhere around the six foot mark, with a small chest and hips that were barely
there. She could easily pass as a boy, and her clothes helped the illusion, being boy’s
pants and a T-shirt. She wore a denim coat that further obscured her small chest. Her
face was plain, and this was accentuated by her lack of any makeup whatsoever.
The other girl was average height for a girl, with long, blonde hair with red
highlights that must have taken a lot of time to arrange in so natural a manner. She
wore makeup, but so artfully applied that it took a very aware eye to realize it; every
feature was accentuated to its greatest advantage without being the joker’s mask
so common among young women and girls these days. She wore a midriff top that
showed the roundness of her ample bosom, with a shirt designed to support and
accentuate without a brassiere. Her hip-hugging jeans seemed to hang on her, always
within a moment of falling off, with her intensely sexy, slow walk always seeming
to be about to break their tenuous hold, and drawing every male eye to that revealed
waist. She seemed to radiate an unconscious aura of sex, and boys—as well as men
who should have known better—sniffed after her like hounds.
The taller of the two sneezed, holding a hand to her nose as she did so.
Old man Mcgilicuddy chuckled to himself as the completely unfeminine sneeze
threw off his contemplation of the hot, young Chelsea.
With a gross snort of mucus back into her nasal cavities that made Chelsea
grimace in disgust, Michelle announced by way of explanation, “Dust.” Her voice was
pleasant, as always, but in a low octave that could be mistaken for a boy’s voice as
Old man Mcgilicuddy grinned at her as she entered; maybe she was the one? If
she was, he would know soon enough. He took off his glasses and began to polish
them with a careful hand as he sat perched upon several boxes behind the sales
counter that served as his chair. With his one good eye staring into the cupped lenses
as he scrubbed the left lens, he knew what he looked like, and had even grown to like
both it and the reaction he could get from people that were easily grossed out by the
macabre marble occupying his right eye socket, though he couldn’t help but sigh as
Chelsea scurried past with a bottom you could bounce a quarter off of. But young
women like her were not for him now; he was scary Old man Mcgilicuddy, with the
one eye and the white marble resting in the socket of the other.
He replaced the lenses on his long nose and peered appreciatively after the girls;
if he couldn’t ride the rides any more, he could still enjoy the show.