Why read WILD CANYON when history is so boring, right?
So, whats so interesting about Earls life? Imagine you're a witty eight-year-old living on the streets of San Francisco, and it's 1924. Your pockets are heavy with coins from your last street performance. Life feels good, or at least better than usual. All you ever wanted was to become a fighter pilot, but that dream seems so far away. The moment you let your guard down the Manion brothers catch you by surprise. In a flash, life just got lousy again. They take all your money and say that you better keep paying for their protection or you'll end up hand-tied with pockets full of rocks at the bottom of the Frisco Bay. Looks like your done for. Without notice, Jacob, a little old doorman, comes running from the entrance of a tall building. Within seconds he takes down those bootlegging brothers, acting as if there was nothing to see.
After he saves your life, you both sit down on back-alley crates for a little rest. Jacob tells you about his adventures in what he used to call, the Wild Canyon. Words flow like a calm fire. His teenage years spent in the 1860's consisted of a soaring aerial battle that took place above blue-green waterfalls atop the worlds biggest canyon. This was all before flying was even a thing. Orphaned as a teenager and forced into slavery as a nitroglecerin bang-up-boy, this old doorman saw things that should never have been seen. You respectfully listen 'cause he just saved your life. Now I know you might be thinking you're the generous one spending so much time with the old guy, but that would not be true. Even though you're not sure if he's telling the truth, it's mostly because his story makes you forget about yours.
So, here you are wondering how you're going to survive the night after all that day-time storytelling. You might want to start working on finding some shelter. Especially when a thick storm is coming and its getting cold. With a bit of luck you find cover in an abandoned old library damaged by the earthquake of 1906. You squeeze through a basement window and drop down seven feet onto a cold hard floor. Its crumbling walls make noises as if it's haunted, but you don't believe in ghosts. As you make your way in the dark, you trip over a sleeping hobo. He grunts and pulls a blanket over his shoulder. You head over to a staircase lit by a cloud-dampened moon. Crawling on your hands and knees you hurry up the stairs and into the nearest room. There's barely enough light to make out the rats scurrying under the mounds of books lying on the floor. You stuff pages from the forgotten novels inside your clothes to keep warm and then bury yourself under the books to hide. Your eyes get heavy as your mind fights the urge to drift into a dreamless slumber.
What was that? You hear a thud, like a sandbag hitting the ground and then the sound of shoes clicking the basement floor. I think you know who just entered the building. It's Charlie, the older and meaner Manion brother. The tone of his breathing gives him away. He must be looking for blood after Jacob beat him down earlier today. The hobo from downstairs mumbles about something and they start arguing. Voices rise. Begging and shreaks from pain entertwine with the sounds of crunching bones. After a lengthy while, the noise dissipates. A few moments of silence and then Charlies cheery whistling of the song , 'Oh by Jingo' drifts up and into your frozen ears. Chills run down your spine Your chest beats like a drum.
Charlie yells up the staircase,“Come out, come out whoever you are. Anyone else in my building thinks they can squat without paying?” Don't move. Be quiet as a mouse. Better hope he doesn't catch you, 'cause when he does your meager days will be over! The building creaks and groans, threatening to collapse at any time. Charlies cow-leather shoes slap and squish soggy leaves as he ascends the stairs. Rumbling from the storm permeates the static air. A shadow looms over the stairway wall as he get closer and closer. Oh no, he's coming straight toward you! Peeking through torn pages, you see droplets of blood drip from his wooden club. He looks directly at your spying eye. A grins forms across his face as if to say he can see right through you.
It's too late!
He's found you!
Want some more Earl time? Order a copy of, The Wild Canyon
and start turning those pages.
