Bound Before the Morrow parallels my personal journey out of negativity. It is a fictional story, following the protagonist, Guy Bismark, on the journey that takes place as his greatest wishes become true. Guy, despite given so much, refuses to be satiated. Despite a blossming romance, Guy's pejorative thinking continues to blind him, sending him on a path that is threatening to destroy everything he holds dear.
Escaping the unbearable memories of his past, Guy Bismarck has buried himself in office work. A twist of fate shakes up his world. Layers of delusion and placation crack, ending his long dormancy. Fame, wealth, love, and beauty, of a greatness and vastness that Guy could never even have imagined, blossom. Will this lead to the happiness that has long eluded Guy, or will the reality he had long hidden from come back to haunt him, putrefying his world and burying him — literally?
Here is a preview of the book. If you enjoy it, consider buying it here.
Celestial light illuminated the otherwise dark earth, instantly bathing Guy Bismarck as he threw open the well-worn door of his medium-sized colonial home. The tranquility of the morning, celebrated by the blue jays heartily singing their morning melodies as they splashed about the gentle dew dipped grass in search of their breakfast treats, went unnoticed by Guy. Each breath of calm cool air that entered his lungs escaped in hot chaos. His eyes quickly but thoroughly searched the entirety of his lawn: beneath the rose bush, whose long dormant crimson buds had finally bloomed into a form so perfect that its very recognition could inspire hours of reflection upon beauty, love, and divinity; among the blades of grass, grown slightly tall from neglect; along the concrete pathway to the house, uninterrupted by the permanently enshrined hand impressions of the previous two generations. Each glance was abandoned as soon as it served to disprove itself of any chance of vindication, and onward his vigilant eyes sought out that hideous thing which he knew must have been hidden somewhere.
What began as a slight frown quickly transformed into a grimace within the first few stalking steps down the stairs. Fine pressed clothes, wet from perspiration, gripped at his body, clinging as best it could while his lungs became engorged with air and his heart slapped rapidly against his ribcage.
Where is it? His unblinking eyes hunted. Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Where—?
His gaze stopped short at the far corner of his lawn, an area in such close proximity to the bordering property that only the most pedantic of owners could so readily distinguish its ownership. His eyes locked on to the disgusting pile of brown filth which was undoubtedly seeping into his precious grass.
Flushed with anger, heat radiated from his face and body. Nostrils flared and teeth bared, like a vicious animal ready to attack. Behind fierce sky blue eyes lay chaos. It was inconceivable that a mere sound just minutes ago had triggered this tumultuous descent: the telltale bark of that wretched beast, which had the audacity befoul his lawn yet again. Within milliseconds his impaired nimbleness was further impeded to stumbling. Simple grew to rage. Vivid images dominated his mind denying reason.
He wanted to kick the ordure as hard as he could. He had to stomp it out of existence, to yell at it, and to scream at the top of his lungs. He needed the world to know that it had to respect him. He was not a pushover, not a coward. He was a human being.
These angry thoughts and visions would have continued implacably had it not been for the screeching alarm on his Blackberry. His gaze left the ugly brown mound before him, and he reluctantly headed toward his black Buick Skylark, nicknamed Rusty Chocolate. He was late. The car accelerated forward, rushing into the day that promised him happiness so long as he could get there in time.