It Is Time, Lord
James ChristopherOCobook editor, husband, and father of twoOCois headed for trouble. Once a North Carolina farm boy who grew up hoeing, fighting, and listening to his grandmother read from the Bible, James resigns from his job for no apparent reason, drinks too much, fails in his attempt to take up writing, and, following the advice of a skirt-chasing rogue, has an affair with a woman he dislikes. Daring to recall the events of his childhood, especially the fire that destroyed his grandparentsOCO home, James, obsessed with his past and its deception, struggles to truly understand his history and its influence on the man he has become. Fred Chappell recently served as North CarolinaOCOs Poet Laureate. Boson Books also offers The Inkling, Moments of Light and Dagon by Fred Chappell. For an author bio, photo, and a sample read visit bosonbooks.com."
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Page 13 - No ONE WOULD have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water.
Page 9 - What are you doing?" I cried. "Why won't you come on? You'll freeze to death." I couldn't move her. It terrified me because I thought she had frozen to the log. It had got much darker and the moon was larger. I jerked her again and again, but she didn't get up. Nothing moved in her face. Two small tears were yet at the corner of each eye. She looked queer, stone-like, under the moonlight, and I thought something terrible had happened to her. "What are you doing to her? Why don't you leave her alone?"...
Page 9 - ... appeared behind me, huge and black in the moonlight. He too had a small tear in each eye. He was breathing heavily in a big jacket. White plumes of breath bannered in the air. "What makes you hurt her? What gets into you?" She raised her arms, and he gathered her to his jacket, holding her in both arms as in a nest. She knotted herself against his chest, curling spontaneously. He turned his back toward the moon and strode. Sometimes I had to trot to keep up, and I continued in the limp-like pace...
Page 9 - ... go on before she freezes to death." "Come on," I told her. She was still whimpering. Her hands were scarlet, smaller and fatter than mine. I touched her hand with my finger and it felt like paper. There were small tears in her eyes, but her face was scared, not crying. I started back. The rocks upon the road were cold. Once I didn't hear her whimpering and I looked and she was sitting in the road. In the dim light she looked far away. I went to her and took her elbows and made her stand up. "Come...