tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61895172011-08-01T14:42:35.158-04:00This blog will track my journey as a writerDarrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.comBlogger361100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-31336126346954043932007-09-28T08:14:00.001-04:002007-09-28T08:14:24.305-04:00

Breakdown By Darryl Brooks Annie Tucker was cruising along US-1 in the no-man’s land between Jacksonville and Daytona Beach, Florida. Her ML430 cruised effortlessly at 75 MPH with the sunroof open and Tom Petty blasting on the stereo. She loved her new Mercedes and all its toys. She watched the GPS navigation display on the dashboard – the arrow pointing south, showing she was about ten miles

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-12560700969872022312007-09-12T20:31:00.001-04:002007-09-12T20:31:28.514-04:00

Many people start writing at a young age, maybe writing stories in high school or working for the school paper. Or they go to college pursuing a journalism degree, maybe take some creative writing classes. I wasn’t one of those people.One day, I thought, I have something to say; I think I’ll try to write. I have read thousands of other peoples stories, and I’ve done many interesting things. So

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-23229891411541195752007-09-10T10:58:00.001-04:002007-09-10T10:58:53.680-04:00

I had a plan. It wasn’t a great plan, but a plan nonetheless. I was going to break 2:50 in the New Orleans Marathon and qualify for Boston. If I made that, I was going to hire a coach to train me for Boston with hopes of breaking 2:22 and making an Olympic Trials qualifying time. Of course, dropping 30 minutes in 2 months was a fairly absurd idea, but we runners are nothing if not dreamers. In

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-44416622204444038252007-09-08T20:19:00.001-04:002007-09-08T20:20:59.643-04:00

In Pigwell, time is not measured by days or weeks but by the number of eighteen wheelers that drive past my house. That’s how I know when the weekends come and go. There isn’t as much trucking between Dilley and Carrizo Springs on the weekend, but at night, you can hear them run up and down I-35 to Laredo and back. My Ma and me still have to get up before dawn every day and tend to the hogs and

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-64510605544644920882007-09-08T20:18:00.001-04:002007-09-08T20:18:36.901-04:00

The deadline was fast approaching. January 15th was less than two days away and he still sat and stared at a blank monitor. He had been writing his monthly column for twenty-nine plus years and never missed a deadline, but 25 hours remained and he had nothing. Not a spark. It’s not as if there weren’t enough current affairs on which to write. President Ford, Saddam Hussein; hell Britney Spears

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-71753666474848986132007-09-08T20:16:00.001-04:002007-09-08T20:16:57.603-04:00

Last summer, I was in the local sports arena watching a track and field competition. This is frequently like watching a three-ring circus, but I was focused on the 400-meter relay. I wasn’t so much watching the runners as the guys that were waiting to run. They stood there poised, their calves and shoulders tensed and ready. You could feel the desire and craving for release. And then, finally,

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-20524739516418882032007-09-08T20:14:00.000-04:002007-09-08T20:15:46.171-04:00

The man on the dock was gagged and duct-taped to his chair. Several loops of chain wrapped around him and the chair, disappearing into a coil at his feet. A cinder block shackled to a length running out of the coil was sitting on the edge of the dock.I sat on a bench at the edge of the dock, trying to keep warm and waiting for my quarry to wake up. It was the dead of winter and everything was

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1138997980302071042006-02-03T15:19:00.000-05:002006-02-03T15:19:46.096-05:00

The first time she entered this room seven years ago came flooding back. She had just turned sixteen. She had just met her uncle for the first time. She had just buried her mother and father.“Welcome to your new home, child,” Uncle Paul said, “Put your bags down and come have a seat. If you are going to be living in my house, you need to understand the rules.”No one had called her ‘child’ in a

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1135343465094802382005-12-23T08:10:00.000-05:002005-12-23T08:11:05.106-05:00

“Anybody want to grab a bite to eat?” I asked. “No, I think I’ll just go home.” “No thanks, we have an early flight tomorrow.” “We’re going to wander over by the stadium.” And like that, it was over. I had worked over three-hundred hours in a little over two weeks, and some time between 6:30 and 7:30 on Sunday, August 4th, 1996; It. Was. Over.

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1135343425372231102005-12-23T08:09:00.000-05:002005-12-23T08:10:25.373-05:00

It’s Christmas in prison. The food would be better on Christmas. You’d get ham and turkey, cranberry sauce, potatoes with gravy, and pie. We never get pie. The other thing about Christmas were visits. Your family could visit instead of just one person, and they could bring presents. Not wrapped, and it had to be on an approved list, but it was something. My

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1134740730276742082005-12-16T08:44:00.000-05:002005-12-16T08:45:30.293-05:00

I got the penny on our honeymoon. I’ve worn it around my neck ever since – never took it off for anything. That penny meant more to me than my wedding ring. Then some bastard went and stole it from me, so I killed him.We went to New York City, and it was the first time either one of us had ever been much of anywhere. It was February, and we walked all over the city in the snow, amazed at the size

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1134150183764370982005-12-09T12:41:00.000-05:002005-12-09T12:43:03.773-05:00

What is SpamAccording to recent statistics, 60% of all email is spam and another 25% are viruses. That’s 85% of this essential communication tool clogged up with wasteful and harmful messages.Many people have only recently become introduced to spam, but in reality, it has been around since the mid ‘90s – before many of us even started using email. There are conflicting stories on who actually

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1134149967760642862005-12-09T12:39:00.000-05:002005-12-09T12:39:27.763-05:00

“That’s all I gotta do?”“That’s all.”“Just push the button?”“Just push the button.”“Okay, tell me again,” Ted Lambeth said.He was sitting in the chair across from Doctor Piccoli’s desk, his leg crossed, foot twitching.Neil Piccoli gave a sigh and started again.“It’s all biometrics, Mr. Lambeth. When you grasp the handle to enter the chamber, it will take your palm print. Once the door closes and

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1134149899880511062005-12-09T12:37:00.000-05:002005-12-09T12:38:19.896-05:00

My alarm woke me up at 5:00 Saturday morning, July 27, 1996. I didn’t really know it was a weekend. I had put in seven consecutive eighteen-hour days and I had a little more than a week to go. I was working as volunteer security for the Olympic Games in Atlanta. How I got here and why I was working these insane hours is another story, but here I was. I had to be downtown by six and I would stay

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133463854226010212005-12-01T14:03:00.000-05:002005-12-01T14:04:14.236-05:00

My dad lived in the same house for thirty years, and at least five days a week for those thirty years he spent time in his yard. That’s almost eight thousand times he put on whatever passed for his yard clothes at that time and ventured out to tend to the various chores that made the yard what it was. It was never one of those showcase yards you would see in Better Homes & Gardens, but it was

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133367323555418912005-11-30T11:15:00.000-05:002007-09-28T08:16:19.945-04:00

This is a piece in progress .....Vince Diamond ran along Broadway on St. Simons Island, Georgia. Less than a mile from the beach, this flat residential street was lined with massive old oaks and small bungalows. Interspersed with the cottages was the occasional new home or construction site. Everywhere on St. Simons, new houses and condominiums were being built on any available piece of land. The

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133367285595582872005-11-30T11:14:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:14:45.600-05:00

I woke up at five-thirty like always and checked the temperature. Thirty-five degrees. I looked out the window at the pines glowing from the streetlights in front of my house. Not just thirty-five degrees, but raining and windy. I told myself that I wasn’t going out for my normal run even as I was putting on my foul-weather gear. I can skip a day; I rationalized, as I put on the

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133367204854985362005-11-30T11:13:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:13:24.866-05:00

I had arrived at my friend, Tim’s apartment a little after eight on a Friday night. I assumed it would be another night of drinking beer and watching baseball on the television. He had this new thing called cable TV and always got a good picture.Tim said, “Frank and I are going to go jump out of an airplane tomorrow, want to come?”“Sure,” I said with no hesitation. There would be hesitation, but

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133367118396273642005-11-30T11:11:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:11:58.400-05:00

The OlympicsWhat Came BeforeFor the previous six years, I belonged to a small group of volunteers, which provided security for The Georgia Games. The Georgia Games is a series of local competitions in over thirty sports that culminate in a three-day event around Atlanta. Georgia is only one of many states that have similar events to celebrate amateur athletics.In 1990, a friend of mine talked me

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133366971382265852005-11-30T11:09:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:09:31.386-05:00

Remember the Alamo? Of course, you do. What isn’t remembered as well outside the annals of Texas History is the Battle of San Jacinto, which followed the Battle of the Alamo. This battle, however, ended quite differently with the Texans scoring a decisive victory and securing their independence.This victory may have been aided by the assistance of Emily West who distracted Santa Anna during the

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133366843558679172005-11-30T11:07:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:07:23.560-05:00

What kind of car does your character drive?In making the movie 48 Hours, there was very little script or rehearsal. The movie was mostly shot in sequence and the story grew and changed as it progressed. Early in the filming, there was a scene where Nick Nolte walked out of his girlfriend’s house to get into his car. The director, Walter Hill, had parked an old beat-up Cadillac convertible in the

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133366710650255972005-11-30T11:05:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:05:10.653-05:00

“That’s all I gotta do?”“That’s all.”“Just push the button?”“Just push the button.”“Okay, tell it to me again,” Ted Lambeth said.He was sitting in the chair across from the desk, his leg crossed, twitching his foot nervously.Neil Piccoli gave a less than patient sigh and started again.“You will be in a private room where you can remove your clothes. You enter the chamber that is then heretically

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133366658515612142005-11-30T11:04:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:04:18.520-05:00

Hazel Thorne had been working in the basement of Baker Labs for three years, ever since she graduated cum laude from MIT. The basement is where the Research and Development department was located – where they kept the hard-core geeks.Baker Labs was one of the top peripherals companies in the country. They didn’t build computers, but if you could hook it to a computer, Baker Labs produced it. The

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133366624335538512005-11-30T11:03:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:03:44.340-05:00

Technology had always come easy to Erna Jane, a shy sort who’d happily spend all-nighters alone in the computer lab. But dealing with people? That was difficult. Excruciating, even.So enrolling at the Wired Institute of Technology had been a great move. Almost everyone there was a techno-nerd too, so she never had to explain herself. Up all night writing code? Sweet. Got some coffee, luv?No one

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133366529766066842005-11-30T11:01:00.001-05:002005-11-30T11:02:09.770-05:00

Mamma has always had a love for other people's possessions. When I was growing up, this always created a sense of puzzlement and wonder at our house. We’d be visiting at Aunt Cathy’s or our cousin’s house down in Coultree County. Mamma would admire a new piece of silver or some fine china statuette. A few days later, I would see the object of her desire in our house. One day, when I was old

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133366471030462412005-11-30T11:01:00.000-05:002005-11-30T11:01:11.040-05:00

The man on the dock was gagged and duct-taped to the chair he was sitting in. In addition, several loops of chain wrapped around him and the chair, disappearing into a coil of chain at his feet. A cinder block shackled to a length running out of the coil was sitting on the edge of the dock.I sat on a bench at the edge of the dock, trying to keep warm and waiting for my quarry to wake up. It was

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133300356094686052005-11-29T16:39:00.000-05:002005-11-29T16:39:16.096-05:00

The first time she entered this room seven years ago came flooding back. She had just turned sixteen. She had just met her uncle for the first time. She had just buried her mother and father.“Welcome to your new home, child,” Uncle Paul said, “Put your bags down and come have a seat. If you are going to be living in my house, you need to understand the rules.”No one had called her ‘child’ in a

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133300288199732982005-11-29T16:37:00.001-05:002005-11-29T16:38:08.213-05:00

"That was the best game we've ever had!" said Grandmaster Bloodworth.The three members of the Inner Circle sat around the private club off 82nd on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Anthony Bloodworth wasn’t the oldest member, but with his love of Cohibas and Scotch, he had aged harder than his contemporaries. He wasn’t fat, but it didn’t take a doctor to tell his blood pressure was through the roof,

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133300250665090562005-11-29T16:37:00.000-05:002005-11-29T16:37:30.673-05:00

My alarm woke me at 6 a.m. I went out for a run, showered, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and had some breakfast. It was a day like any other, except today I was going to watch someone die.I make my living as a private investigator, skip tracing and some divorce work, like any detective outside of television. I also do some investigating for local law firms, checking out witnesses, following up

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133300137321897212005-11-29T16:35:00.000-05:002005-11-29T16:35:37.330-05:00

It was February 1986, the first time I was in New York City. My wife, Cathy, was there on a business trip. She works for a large international business machine company that I won’t name here, and at that point in her career was in Manhattan often. They put her up in the Intercontinental Hotel on Forty-Eight street between Park and Lexington.She had been there all week and I was flying up on

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133298755099507412005-11-29T16:12:00.000-05:002005-11-29T16:12:35.103-05:00

Gjinn would be executed at the rising of the third moon. According to Leonar law, there would be no more appeals, no more chances. The crime he was accused of was simple – he had failed to bow his head as a Leonar Lord had passed on the street. Bowing their heads was second nature to all Graks long before they came of age, but on this occasion Gjinn had raised his head and stared directly into

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133298729049600852005-11-29T16:11:00.001-05:002005-11-29T16:12:09.050-05:00

There are so many fascinating and beautiful places to run in Washington D.C. that most visitors never learn about one of the nicest runs in this, or any other, area. I’m talking about the C&O canal, and while most local runners, walkers, and cyclists are familiar with it, many out-of-towners never get the opportunity to run this nice, flat, earth-paved towpath along the Potomac River.Most runners

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133298703409665862005-11-29T16:11:00.000-05:002005-11-29T16:11:43.410-05:00

The light suddenly came on and Heinz stood proud and tall hoping to be noticed, hoping to be the one chosen for this mission, whatever it was. A hand reached in and grabbed a soda, quickly retreating and turning the world once again dark as the door was shut. French’s smirked, “Why do you always think you will be the chosen one, you’re nothing but a Nazi catsup.” “CATSUP?” I’ll have you know…” Mr

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133297089339516692005-11-29T15:44:00.000-05:002005-11-29T15:44:49.340-05:00

Black & white. 2 boys throwing a baseball on a side-street. 0ne says, "Let's get a Coke." "Yeah, a Cherry Coke.” The boys walk into an old drugstore. They go to the counter and are met by a kindly old woman, “What’ll it be, boys?” “2 Cherry Cokes.” “Coming right up,” she says and turns away. The next scene is a close-up of an old metal ice bin. The woman’s arms are seen reaching into the ice. The

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133297015449716382005-11-29T15:43:00.000-05:002005-11-29T15:43:35.453-05:00

Dave sat down at the blackjack table, last chair from on the left. He usually liked the anchor position. The seat to his right was taken by a young middle-eastern man with a stack of red chips in front of him. The table was a five dollar minimum, so he spread five twenties out on the green felt for the dealer. He liked to start with twenty times his basic bet. As the dealer called out, “Cashing

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6189517.post-1133296916422764962005-11-29T15:41:00.000-05:002005-11-29T15:41:56.423-05:00

Gjinn would be executed at the rising of the third moon. Kjinn would share the cell until they walked to the scaffold together. At the rising of the first moon, they preyed to Han. On the second moon, they wailed at the injustice that the Leonars had perpetrated on the Graks since time immemorial. When the third moon rose, the jailor came and took them to the podium where Gjinn would be beheaded.

Darrylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15548839385196888053noreply@blogger.com0