A deleted dream. Some Art.

I ended up taking this out of the first book. After several revisions, it wasn’t needed.

But I like it.


I dreamed that I walked amongst death and destruction as a storm poured out its wrath overhead.

Bodies were strewn everywhere as the remains of the town burned. Pierced, crushed, mangled, and some, gnawed on. Smoky fog drifted from dozens of fires that rain struggled to quench.

Lightning crashed, momentarily blinding me, before rolling thunder pounded my senses from above.

I stepped around carnage as in the rain-soaked street. The slaughter had been complete. Women. Children. Horses. Livestock. Nothing lived. The only sound was the hiss of raindrops falling amidst flames.

Stopping, I dropped to my knees in the muck. Of all the massacred bodies that lay trampled in the mud, scattered on the boardwalks, and among the flickering flames. It was hers that gave me pause.

A little girl lay in a pool of blood, her white dress soaked with crimson from the spear sticking from her chest. Her light blue eyes were open and unblinking as rain fell onto them. Strands of blonde hair plastered against her cheeks. A homemade doll clenched tight in her tiny hand.

I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t know who any of these people were. But I recognized the town. It was mine.

Closing her eyes, I gently tugged the doll free. Wiping blood off with my thumb, a small buttoned face smiled back at me.

The puddle of blood from the girls body rippled.

My eyes flicked to it. I watched it ripple again as the ground trembled.

I looked up as a massive four-legged beast lumbered through the thick gray smoke at the end of the street, and stopped.

It was an odd-looking creature. Two large horns above its eyes jutted out and a smaller one rising lower on its face. A bone shield flared out from the top of its head, giving protection to its neck and shoulders, and behind it sat something vaguely human.

The rider was bigger than a man, with thick dark hair covering most of its body except its painted chest and face. It reminded me of the apes from my childhood picture books. But this one wasn’t cute and cuddly with a banana. Instead, it was large and terrifying.

The ape raised a stone club above its head and roared, jerking on the reins. The three-horned beast reared, shook massive horns, then splashed heavily to the ground in a spray of muddy brown water.

I felt it in my chest, a primordial challenge that honor and justice demanded be accepted. Trembling in rage, I gently tucked the doll back into the girl’s hand and stood, drawing a pair of matching revolvers.

As rain dripped from the brim of my hat, I thumbed the hammers back.

I was going to cut the ape’s heart out and eat it.

The three-horned mount rushed forward with a bellow. The ground shook as it bore down on me.

The ape roared, raising the club to strike.

Jerking the pistols up, I pulled the triggers.


So, some art, right?

This is the initial sketch that the talented Mike Katoglou sent me when I was shopping around for someone to create a banner for me. (Which I still need… hmmm…)

western dinosaur

I loved it so much that I asked for a sketch style drawing. That awesomeness turned into this:


Not much else going on. It’s just been a week so I needed to post something.

The writing continues – The world still spins.

Hope everyone has a great week.

Author: Erik 'Tracer' Testerman

Erik Testerman is a Marine Corps grunt, a competitive shooter, and an admirer of fine arms and armaments. He lives in the mountains of North Carolina with his lovely wife, two rambunctious children, and a slobbery English Mastiff. To learn more about Erik Testerman and read samples of his work, visit http://GunPowderAndInk.blog

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