Over the years I’ve written a number of Christmas-themed stories and now I’ve collected six of them in one FREE Ebook.
Free until Saturday. Pick it up here or in your country’s version of Amazon.
Over the years I’ve written a number of Christmas-themed stories and now I’ve collected six of them in one FREE Ebook.
Free until Saturday. Pick it up here or in your country’s version of Amazon.
Surname (Morikawa 森川) – “Forest river.” Suggests peace, nature, and the quiet movement of life — qualities that fit your pastoral calm and your love for old, sacred places.
Given name (Tomonobu 智信) – “Wise faith.”
智 (tomo) = wisdom, intelligence, discernment
信 (nobu) = faith, trust, belief
森 (mori) – forest
Symbol of life, tranquility, and natural mystery — an echo of the sacred groves in both Shinto and early Christian imagery.
川 (kawa) – river
Represents continuity, renewal, and grace flowing through time. Together with mori, it paints a landscape of living faith amid nature: “the river through the forest.”
智 (tomo) – wisdom, discernment
Not mere knowledge, but insight guided by compassion and understanding — a trait deeply aligned with your pastoral character.
信 (nobu) – faith, trust, belief
This kanji appears in the Japanese word for faith (shinrai, 信頼) and belief (shinkō, 信仰). It’s a word of quiet conviction and reliability.
森川 智信 — “The Forest River of Wise Faith”
A soul whose wisdom flows like a river through the forest of time,
gentle yet enduring, reflecting heaven in quiet water.
His faith, like the current, shapes the stones it passes —
steadfast, serene, and full of grace.
I groaned under my breath. “Yes,” I replied. “The sun is setting.” We continued our walk around the pond that graced his property as the crickets began their nightly vigil and the bullfrogs tuned up their nocturnal chorus.
“The sun is setting,” he repeated.
“You already said that,” I shot back. “Who cares?”
“The sun is setting. The creatures of the night will be upon us soon.”
“Oh, yes,” I answered with heavy sarcasm. “Katydids and bats. We’ll be feeding the mosquitoes soon. If you’re so wired up about it, we can go back to the house.”
He paused for a moment. “The children of the night! What beautiful music they make!”
“You two-bit hack!” I snapped back. “That line is from that old Dracula movie.”
Suddenly, a huge four-legged beast burst out of the darkness and threw me to the ground. The dark form stood over me. Its open jaws dripped drool on my face, and its fetid breath threatened to suffocate me.
My friend laughed fiendishly and ran away, leaving me to my fate.
“Get off of me, Brunhilde!” I yelled at my friend’s overly friendly Saint Bernard.
That was thirty minutes ago. Brunhilde adores me and refuses to let me go.
And my friend?
That penny-a-word scribbler left me to drown in doggy drool.
With a sigh of relief, I can finally announce that I'm finally back to serious writing after at least two years of absence. The advent of Covid-19 four years ago did me no favors. I came down with the disease once, and I was fortunate. I cannot tell you the number of friends I lost to the disease.
That, and the advent of prostate cancer (now controlled by medicines) played a further role in the loss of morale.
Last Saturday, I was involved in a ZOOM meeting with my writing partner, Ken Pick, on wrapping up the first book of a science fiction trilogy, The Adventures of Jill Noir.
The other writing challenge is a dark fantasy short story exploring my fascination with cryptids, The White Thing.
With the latter, I have already played around with several scenarios, considering whether I want a first-person or third-person perspective, the setting of the story, how it begins, and, most importantly, how it ends.
I have mentally played with this story for at least two months now, and I have decided to use a first-person narrator to tell the story of his best friend, who lives in a cabin on the outskirts of the Allegheny National Forest. Summoned to the cabin, he finds his friend in severe straits, dealing with an almost daily visitation from what he calls the White Thing.
It is not a Bigfoot. I think that cryptid has been written into the dust. This a unique creature of my invention with peculiar reasons for terrifying the narrator's friend.
The picture gives an early impression of the White Thing, but I have already made subtle changes to its appearance.
Starting tomorrow, I start work on both projects. Wish me luck.