Raw Cover for “Road Trip”

Road Trip, Raw Cover Image

This is a preview of the raw cover image for my story, Road Trip, which will be published in December.

Here’s the description of the story:

Rocco Fitch is a down-and-out disabled veteran of the War Against Terror, having been severely injured by an IED in Afghanistan. Since his return, his wife has left him (taking his daughter with her), he can’t get a job, unemployment payments have run out, his car’s been repossessed, the bank wants to foreclose on his house and life just isn’t working out well…

Then some beggar tries to sell him a road. Sensing that the beggar is a war vet like himself, Rocco buys the road from him for all the money he has left: $3.37.

At first, Rocco thinks the sale is just a strange way for the beggar to talk himself into accepting a handout from a fellow vet. But then he wakes up the next morning with a road, a magical road, crossing his backyard. A road that nobody else can see…

Besides the mysterious road that he now owns, the one bright spot in his life is his unlikely friend, his neighbor Sammie, an aging black rogue with a diabolical sense of humor, a foul mouth, friends in low places and a rather piratical way of looking at the world.

Between the two of them, they might just be able to set Rocco’s life on a new and different path.

Look for it on Amazon in the November/December timeframe.

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Rocco Fitch, on Fighting Evil

The Forever HouseRocco Fitch is the hero of my story “Road Trip,” which is being published in an anthology called Reliquary in January 2017. It’s the first novelette in my Roadwerks Limited series. In this story teaser, Rocco is being interviewed in a mysterious tavern outside of time and space known as the…Forever House.


The Svendeep Interviews:
Rocco Fitch, on Fighting Evil

Rocco Fitch stood at a mahogany bar, his right foot resting on a brass foot rail, and listened to the hubbub of numerous conversations behind him. He had not the slightest idea how he’d gotten here.

Gazing around, he took in the rustic atmosphere of the place. A log fire burned merrily in a stone fireplace, casting its flickering light on a dark-skinned balding man sitting in an armchair and flipping through the pages of a book. He was dressed like a Roman soldier. Two baroque, seven-armed chandeliers, complete with flickering candles, provided light for the four long wooden tables in the center of the room, currently occupied by a motley assortment of customers. Bookcases lined the walls, with an occasional gap for sconces that provided illumination for the armchairs scattered around the periphery. Oddly, there were no windows anywhere.

A thin, lanky man in a gray robe came down a stairway, ambled across the room and leaned on the bar next to him. “You’re Rockford Jeremiah Fitch III, aren’t you?” He looked like he was in his late twenties, but Rocco thought his eyes looked older. His hair was pulled back into a queue that emphasized his high cheekbones. He looked like a medieval monk or maybe a philosopher.

“My friends call me Rocco. What is this place, anyway?”

There were huge ceiling beams of some dark wood and the floor was made of three-foot-wide wooden planks. It must be an old building, because he didn’t think it was possible to find beams like that anymore. And the planks didn’t look like something that was going to be on sale at Home Depot either.

“It’s a tavern, Rocco.”

“I can see that, thank you very much.” Rocco fixed his patented military-grade glare on the man. “How’d I get here?”

“I don’t know,” the man said. “People get here all kinds of ways.”

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