Seven years ago I killed my boy. Later on, I came up with a more benevolent phrase that I’ve used at every event I’ve done and in all the TV interviews I’ve given. ’I gave Malcolm rest’. Such a sweet, serene, and publicly permissible euphemism.
But the stark, midnight truth is I took his life.
The series of events that came next I have begun to chronicle in a trilogy entitled, ‘The Rock, The Ripple, and the River’.
I completed the first part over a year ago but it has remained unpublished. And although I could offer up a whole host of thoughts and theories on why, it was because I was afraid.
I’m not now.
Every Friday henceforth I’ll be publishing a chapter from the first book, ‘The Rock’ right here, on this blog and free of charge.
Today, on Malcolm’s day, I’ll start with the Prologue.
This is a love story.
And like all great love stories it’s a tale of a journey against all odds, fraught with danger and full of magical encounters and adventures. Of a love that travelled thousands and thousands of miles across 16 lands through forests, mountains, swamps, and flatlands in hellish heat, arctic cold, and savage storms.
But this isn’t your typical love story. There are no fair maidens, no knights in shining armor – just a cast of unlikely characters on an extraordinary journey. Nor does this story end happily ever after. But oh, what a glorious journey it was.
It didn’t begin as a love story.
It began with a dog named Malcolm.…..
Actually, it began with a stripper from San Antone.
Next Friday, Prologue II. September 2009. Leesburg, Virginia