Links to my Books

Links to My Writings

Meditations on Maintenance for the Kindle
Memoirs of a Super Criminal for the Kindle, Nook
One Year in the Mountains for the Kindle, Nook
Adventures of Erkulys & Uryon for the Kindle and Nook

Monday, November 28, 2011

Erkulys and Uryon Fight the Monster of the Heart

The two stumbled out of town, Erkulys still drunk from a night of feasting, ribaldry, wenching, and wrestling. Uryon tried to shoulder some of Erkulys’ weight to help him walk straight. The large wrestler out-weighed Uryon by a few dozen pounds, but Uryon was taller.

Uryon wore a belt of leather, studded with precious gems. Many of them were dragon stones he had removed from the belly of the great beasts. On his hip, hung his twice-forged sword. It was forged first by the Master Maker in the Deep Forge hidden in the bowels of the earth. The second time it was shaped by the First craftsman, Tubal-cain. while his apprentice smiths, Bezalel and Oholiab, pumped the bellows in the sacred citadel of Hor. The sword was a perfectly crafted weapon, unbreakable, and never lost its edge. It could cleave through any armor and slice body and soul alike. Uryon wore it with pride and humility. It was a weapon of Champions and he was First Champion of the Nations.

Erkulys preferred using his hands to crush, smash and rip apart his prey. He was a master in over a dozen fighting and wrestling arts. He was also proficient in most weapons, as a true Hero should be. Erkulys was the foremost Hero of the day, although other younger heroes tried to challenge him to the title. None could defeat this brave Hero.

This was the time of Heroes and Champions, and also of monsters and things unspeakable. These two ventured off to encounter just such a thing.

“Erk, I think you have put on weight since last we walked together.” Uryon grunted as he struggled to keep Erk moving.

“Ey, I most surly did. I spent the last year eating and wenching in the far lands, beyond the Mount,” Erk belched and continued, “They have the best cream pies and ales one could wish for.” He stumbled in his step and then straightened up, burping a few more times. “Ey, ale and wine and drink from a root that would blind lesser men. And all of it more tasty than that swill they served us last night at the inn.” He staggered further along.

“Ha ha, that swill was enough to do you in. I told you we had many leagues to go today, to not drink so heavy.” Uryon chastised him.

“Just a moment.” Erk leaned over a short stone wall that sheltered a garden from the way. He vomited a stream so putrid it made Uryon, standing a dozen steps away, turn away in disgust. Erk then opened his leather breeches and let out a piss that ran like a river.

“I think you just killed that poor garden.” Uryon waved a hand in front of his nose.

“Nonsense. I only watered it and enriched the soil with liquids from the gods.” Erk bellowed and laughed. He tucked himself back into his breeches and staggered back to the way. “Now I can walk, almost.”

Uryon shouldered a leather bag and goaded Erk along. The sun was just breaking the horizon. “Let’s move slow. I don’t want you killing any more gardens and having the townsfolk cursing our names.”

“Seems like last night you had a few wenches screaming your name in delight.” Erk laughed again. Mirth came easy to this Hero.

Uryon laughed as well. “Yes they were. But today, I fear, they will be walking funny and cursing me none the less.”

The two laughed and stumbled toward the rising sun.

Now Available on the Kindle: Erkulys & Uryon

Copyright David Corbet 2011

Saturday, November 5, 2011



Glistening white, unique and alone.
Drifting from high above to here below.
Settling one on another, building up
A landscape of white.
The empty, quiet world awaits
For that soft touch of frozen fingers,
Caressing the tree, the brush, the soil.
White drifting, wafting, floating.
Silence blanketed in muffled chills
Alone, unique, silent, wandering.
Come hushed stillness.

By David Corbet

Tuesday, October 18, 2011


A constant struggle,
A tug, a shake, a quake.
A pull this way & then that way.
Up, down, in, out.
A constant struggle
Light & dark blending in
Strobe effects of smoky haze.
Reality is obscured & contrasted.
A constant struggle,
Tear stained smiles & false
Bravado to make it through
The day, fearing the night.
A constant struggle,
To awake each morning
Plod on, trod on, fallen on
Some meaningless soul.
A constant struggle,
To survive the day with
Music & lines on pages as
            The only solace.

David Corbet
Copyright protected

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

If you are not familiar with it is a pretty awesome site. They offer ebooks in most ebook formats. They do a good job in centralizing all the various ebook providers into one location. Not a bad idea. I have two books uploaded there. They also offer coupons which is another great idea. Watch for upcoming coupons for my books: One Year in the Mountains and Memoirs of a Super Criminal.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Hearing the song of Grey

            She sings sweetly in my ear and I wonder if the words spring from her soul. I wonder if I could be her muse. I wonder if she is as delicate and as kind as her voice. What would life be like at her side? It is a lost dream, one destined to never be fulfilled. Life always brings the unexpected and the unexplained. We must not wait for the evil to consume us but must be vigilant in our defense with good and righteousness. Lost dreams can bring evil, or they can be used to fertilize the truth of reality, of passion sought and won. Don’t let her sweet voice be the symbol of a failed existence, but as the rallying cry of great things, the standard bearer leading the charge into the darkness of swirling futures with out certainty. The prize is only won after the race is complete. Run to win, but not for the prize for it is fleeting and will not bring the strength to continue winning. Race to win; race to build the strength to race again, and again and again…

            Life is grey. Life is a blend of the rich darkness of utter blackness bringing decay and chaos and the pure white of truth and perfection. But the grey is not evil; it is necessary. Grey is the dawning of the new day when the world is filled with solemn silence preparing for the release of potential. Grey is the cloud that brings the nurturing rains from which all life springs. Grey is the blur of movement across the screen of life. Grey is life lived without regret, but with pain and joy in abundance. Grey is the willingness to risk pain to gain joy and love and all things good. With out grey there would be no depths of shadows, no horizon to run towards. Without grey the world would be simple and simplistic and naive and utterly boring. But very safe. Very safe, indeed.

            So how do we wade through the complexities of greyness which pervades life at every turn? We walk gently and securely with one hand on the white staff of truth. We keep our heart pure filled with passion ready to act with compassion towards neighbor and enemy alike. Those with the eyes to see can pierce the foggy greyness with clarity of sight. Those with the eyes to see are not held by the cryptic nature of the ever present grey. Right action, right direction becomes crystal clear and impossible to escape. But those without the sight are lost and confused, dismayed at the actions of others. They are held captive by their own fear, their own guilt. They fail and fall deeper into the dark blackness which hides below the grey waiting to pounce on the unaware. They cannot move towards the light, towards the white. But one cannot reach the white until they have gained the sight to move safely through the grey. So seek the sight which brings life, brings insight, brings clarity of thought and action. Take it and use it. Gain the white.