Title: Along the Watchtower
Author: David Litwack
Publisher: Double Dragon Publishing
Publication Date: June 3, 2013
Pages: 214
Genre: Fantasy
Source: ARC from Author
Rating: 
Summary (from the Author): A Tragic Warrior Lost in Two Worlds…
The war in Iraq ended for Lieutenant Freddie Williams when an IED explosion left his mind and body shattered. Once he was a skilled gamer and expert in virtual warfare. Now he’s a broken warrior, emerging from a medically induced coma to discover he’s inhabiting two separate realities. The first is his waking world of pain, family trials, and remorse—and slow rehabilitation through the tender care of Becky, his physical therapist. The second is a dark fantasy realm of quests, demons, and magic that Freddie enters when he sleeps.
In his dreams he is Frederick, Prince of Stormwind, who must make sense of his horrific visions in order to save his embattled kingdom from the monstrous Horde. His only solace awaits him in the royal gardens, where the gentle words of the beautiful gardener, Rebecca, calm the storms in his soul. While in the conscious world, the severely wounded vet faces a strangely similar and equally perilous mission—a journey along a dark road haunted by demons of guilt and memory—and letting patient, loving Becky into his damaged and shuttered heart may be his only way back from Hell
Becky
On the ground floor, the center of the hospital opened into a small courtyard, an insecure space with too many places for insurgents to hide. I took a quick breath and tensed.
“Wait up, Ralph.”
“It’s okay, Freddie. You’re safe here.”
“Give me a minute. It’s my first time out.”
I surveyed the perimeter. A few benches. A flower garden dominated by hydrangeas, but not like the softball-sized blossoms my mom used to grow. These were small and paler than the Cape Cod variety, which were a blue that could compete with the sky.
At once, I could see my mom, hands buried in the hydrangeas, grooming her flowers—one of the few memories I could bear to recall. Me and my brothers in the driveway shooting hoops. Mom telling us to keep the ball out of her garden. She was happy then, surrounded by her family, her garden, and the ocean.
I looked past the hydrangeas to find purple asters and some lilies too. But no roses. For some reason, I’d been hoping for roses.
Despite the nice day, the courtyard was deserted, except for a woman about my age who sat on a wooden bench, finishing up a brown-bag lunch. Her eyes were closed and her head tipped back to take in the sun, making her appear to be dreaming. Sitting alone on the bench, her face seemed framed by flowers.
When she heard us coming, she sat up, straightened her scrubs, and smiled.
“Hey, Ralph. What do you have there? Another victim for me?”
“Becky,” Ralph said. “What’s up? This is Freddie, Lt. Williams, our newest patient. We’re trying to bring him back from the dead. Freddie, meet Becky Marshall, one of our physical therapists.”
I nodded a greeting to her, not much in the mood for small talk. She tilted her head to one side as if evaluating me. Then she gave me the kind of look that said we’d met before, if not in this world than in another, and that she intended to make a difference in my life.
“Is he ready for me?”
“Soon. If he’s assigned to you.”
My attention was drawn to a soda can on the bench next to her. I’d seen too many IEDs in soda cans.
She caught me fixating on it and grinned.
“Just my diet Pepsi, Freddie. See?”
She chugged what was left and tossed the can into a nearby trash basket. Then she crumpled the bag into a ball and to show off, stepped off exactly five paces and shot the bag into the basket in a perfect arc.
“Nice shot,” I said.
“I make that shot every time.”
“Yeah, right.”
She came close enough that our knees were almost touching and hovered over me, sizing me up.
“You’ll be mine,” she said finally. “I can tell. I get all the hard cases.”
As she walked away, light on her feet like a dancer, I fumbled for the wheel of the chair, trying to spin it around so I could watch her go. But Ralph had set the brake.
<h1 align="center">The Gardener</h1>
The white butterfly fluttered before her face. When she saw it, she reached out a hand and at once it landed on the curve of her wrist.
“Now there’s a fine omen for you,” she said. “Light knows we need one these days.” She whispered some words and the butterfly flew off across the courtyard and out over the castle wall.
A fine omen? Perhaps. But I’d learned to be wary. I stepped forward, scuffling my boots to make noise. She ignored my presence. Not until I was a pace away did she turn.
It was hard to say if she was beautiful or even pretty. Soil from the garden had splattered her cheeks and marked her forehead with a splotch that looked like a raven. A muddied apron hid her shape. But I took note of a glint in her gray-green eyes, as if the flowers had conspired to lend their color. And her mouth was a crescent moon upturned on its side.
The corners of the crescent twitched when she saw me but only for an instant. Then she went back to her work as if I were invisible. Her hands cradled each bloom as she sliced off the heads with a small knife.
“Are you spirit or demon?” I demanded.
She made no answer.
I drew my sword, relieved it slipped so easily from its scabbard, and stretched it in her direction. She watched the point from the corner of her eye but kept her head down and continued to work. Finally, I nudged her with the tip.
She let out a yelp. Only then did I realize I’d thrust too hard, and the blade had slit her garment. I backed off at once, ready to apologize, but then recalled my encounter with the assassin. I poked again, more gently this time.
“Why do you keep doing that?” she said.
“To see if you’re real.”
She stood and faced me, feet set wide and planted squarely on the ground.
“Why shouldn’t I be real?”
She was tall for a girl, her head rising above my chin, and had a bearing unlike a servant. When I continued to challenge her, she reached out and eased the point of my sword to one side.
“Would you put that silly thing away?”
I began to back off, then remembered the circumstance and held firm. “Why didn’t you say anything when I first approached you?”
“Because we servants aren’t supposed to talk to you royals.” She lowered her gaze and turned back to the flowers. “I’m sorry . . . Milord.”
“What’s your name?”
“Rebecca.”
“Rebecca. My name is Frederick.”
She paled and then bent in a deep curtsy, her brashness collapsing into two whispered words. “The dauphin.” . . .
I wandered in a circle, hands folded behind my back, and inspected the flowers, unsure of what else to say. Then a thought occurred to me.
“Do you have roses in this garden?”
“No roses, Milord. I have asters and hydrangeas. Some fall crocus. And climbing the wall to the watchtower, sweet autumn clematis. A bit of monkshood underneath and tulips in the spring. But no roses.”
I must have looked disappointed. She came closer and reached out, but not enough to touch me.
“It must be lonely, Milord, a terrible burden. Every morning as I walk from my village to the gardens, I see the darkening clouds and wonder where my strength will come from. Then I remember. The dauphin will protect us. Save Him Oh Goddess, I pray. If only I could do something to help.”
I mumbled a thank you and turned to go, but stopped when I saw her examining her damaged apron.
“Are you here every day?”
“No, Milord, I have other gardens as well.”
“Come tomorrow, and I’ll bring you a new apron to replace the one I tore.”
She curtsied more deeply this time.
“I’d be so grateful, Milord, but I have nothing to give in return.”
“No need.”
“Ah, wait.” She took her small knife and clipped off a bulging blossom at the stem and handed it to me. “Now place it in water the first chance you get.”
I accepted the gift and admired her through its petals.
“Thank you,” I said. “Tomorrow at noon.”
As I walked away, I glanced over my shoulder to get one last look at the gardener. She was back at her work, resuming her song and snipping away, so light of hand and foot. As she blew away a curl that had drifted across her face, the summer dress rustled against her skin. I inhaled the scent of the flower and thought I caught the sun peeking through the clouds over Golgoreth.
And for the first time since my father died, goddesses seemed possible.
The urge to write first struck when working on a newsletter at a youth encampment in the woods of northern Maine. It may have been the night when lightning flashed at sunset followed by northern lights rippling after dark. Or maybe it was the newsletter's editor, a girl with eyes the color of the ocean. But he was inspired to write about the blurry line between reality and the fantastic.
Using two fingers and lots of white-out, he religiously typed five pages a day throughout college and well into his twenties. Then life intervened. He paused to raise two sons and pursue a career, in the process becoming a well-known entrepreneur in the software industry, founding several successful companies. When he found time again to daydream, the urge to write returned.
There Comes a Prophet was the first novel in this new stage of life. His second, Along the Watchtower, will be published in June 2013.
David and his wife split their time between Cape Cod, Florida and anywhere else that catches their fancy. He no longer limits himself to five pages a day and is thankful every keystroke for the invention of the word processor.
Along the Watchtower is a gripping story of a man who comes face-to-face with death in Iraq, which causes him to travel in and out of parallel worlds through his consciousness. In our world, he is Lieutenant Frederick Williams. In a world that he escapes to during his recovery from an IED explosion, he is Prince Frederick of Stormwind. I say these are parallel because the happenings within each world coincide with the other, and we are taken through a journey of Frederick's recovery of different kinds.
Frederick is a man of many tragic circumstances. Through life and the war, he has lost his parents, brother, and comrades. Throughout Along the Watchtower, we go alongside him as he attends to the grueling task of overcoming (and realizing) his past and current guilt, shame, and mourning. This is a fantastic painting of a soldier's lament, the heart wrenching ability to overcome many trials not by any means of a weapon, but by means of discovering what lies within himself. We watch him grow and heal throughout the story as he realizes what he is truly responsible for, and what belongs simply to fate.
In the parallel world, Prince Frederick also has to work his way to 'King' status. When we first discover Stormwind, we received word that the King had died. This made Prince Frederick next in line to the throne, however, he must pass several tasks first.
Frederick has to overcome several trials in both worlds, whether physically or emotionally, before moving on with his life. In the real world especially, he has to heal before processing and accepting the loss off his fellow soldiers.
I thought this book was very well done. It grabs the reader by the heart on the first page and doesn't release it until well after you've finished the last one. Frederick may be fictional in this story, but there are many realities hidden within him. I'm sure many of us know them personally through ourselves or our loved ones. Litwack did a beautiful job painting a story for us of life, loss, and mostly, hope.
As part of this special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity, both Along the Watchtower and There Comes a Prophet by David Litwack are on sale this week. What’s more, by purchasing either or both of these fantastic books at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes. The prizes include a Kindle Fire, $650 in Amazon gift cards, and 5 autographed copies of each book. All the info you need to win one of these amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment--easy to enter; easy to win!
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I really enjoyed how the stories are told in parallel. I thought it was really unique how the characters from each story-line popped up in the other.
ReplyDeleteThis is an amazing giveaway. David seems like an interesting guy, and I dig that he enjoys spending time on Cape Cod, which is in my home state. High five to David!
ReplyDeleteWhat a fantastic (and beautifully formatted) review, Lis Ann. I'm so glad you enjoyed Along the Watchtower. I, too, appreciated the dual story lines and how deftly they were woven together! Thank you for joining us on this tour, and please take a quick moment to cross-post your review to Amazon and GoodReads--both places are huge for helping great books gain exposure.
ReplyDeleteEmlyn :-)