Horrible Harvest
The Untold Story of the Confederate, Augustus Tennyson
Category: Uncategorized
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‘Fore we got back from trading out fresh chicken litter for fetid, the beatin’ I expected for failing to get the bays water come. Daddy pulled the wagons to a stop about a half mile into the return trip just to give me a smack around. It wasn’t his best work. He’d beat me fiercer…
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I tell you true ain’t but two thoughts that go through your mind when you bury someone who your own past was hitched to for the most god-awful reason, war. One, you think on the hell you was put through, and two, you think on the hell you put others through. When it comes down…
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I smiled and exited the tent just as the captain returned with Mr. Stockton’s unit of escorts. “Where do you think you’re going, corporal?” “Got business, sir.” “I’ve not dismissed you. A unit has been dispatched to the lake. They’ve orders to intervene by any means necessary to save our men from any further indignities.”…
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I stopped securing the rope to his right wrist. “It is damning. For both of you.” The sergeant waved the barrel of his gun at the colonel. “How’s ‘bout you shut up that mouth of yours, Stockton?” “There’s no harm in talking, is there?” “There’s harm in it. Grates on me. You’re squawking like a…
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The captain gone, the sergeant held his revolver on Mr. Stockton as I gathered some rope from the rear of the tent. “You are wrong, Tennyson.” I continued to gather the rope we needed and give Mr. Stockton no response. “Did you hear me, son? I said, you are wrong.” “I heard you.” “You’ve nothing…
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One of the unfortunate side effects of having a book overlooked is the fact that the work of others on your vision goes unrecognized. Nate Daniels voiced the audio book for my 2012 book, Bad Way Out, and I always felt bad that he never got the credit he was due… and pay. He was…
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Mr. Stockton backed away and considered my claim. He couldn’t allow himself to believe it. I was working his mind into a stream of second guesses and doubts. He cleared his throat and said through a clenched jaw, “You may not care about me, but what about your mother? She still serves at the behest…
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“The boy is a sour mark on the Miller name,” Mr. Stockton said. “And you, Tennyson. He’s infected you. Weakened you. Feminized you.” I bounced up on my toes. “Care to see how weak I am – Colonel, sir?” Mr. Stockton looked to me and belly laughed “You think you can take me, do you,…
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“Take this drift of pigs to the lake and see too it they scrub themselves raw. I want them shiny for show.” “Yes, sir, Colonel, sir.” “Once they are free of the dust and dirt from their travels, they are to put their dress uniforms on.” “Colonel, sir,” Captain Docherty interrupted. “I am speaking to…
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Call me incurably curious, but I uploaded an excerpt from my novel, Horrible Harvest: The Untold Story of the Confederate Augustus Tennyson, to Hume AI to test the current state of AI narrators. I’m impressed, but not sold. I prefer the warmth and vitality of we humans, but AI is getting danger close. There’s still…
Horrible Harvest 