History Teaches


History Teaches

History teaches us so much but it cannot keep pace with our arrogance and ignorance!

Each generation carries with it the movers and the shakers, those simply living clean wholesome lives, obeying the laws, looking to survive, and the Jerry Springer witless wonders, robotic brewers of brawn and monosyllabic tantrums. With the world’s multi-billion people-mix of colors, creeds, languages, political, and religious persuasions it might be rather remarkable that we have not imploded by now, or, perhaps more apt, exploded. Our geniuses have given us all the once unimaginable tools for Armageddon. Each nation appears to separate its populations into politically diverse groups with leaders, some chosen by the people, some by coups, others by anarchy and revolution.

Now, with generations of anger and hatred fueling their actions, Islamic terrorists by the tens of thousands come to show us barbaric ways to kill, to threaten openly for all the world to know that their deity proclaims their way the only way… The infidels who dare challenge or do not submit to their new world order will die in hideous ways.

So, if ever the entire world needed to come together to form a massive coalition to destroy these defiant monsters of morality, it is now. It does not take an IQ in the genius range to understand that the world is most definitely at a crucial crossroad in the history of humankind. It will take the sane and sensible leaders of the world to combine their forces and their machinery of destruction to clear the planet of this terrorism scourge. And, it must be the United States that takes up this noble effort to unify nations, to commit every option of its military forces in leading this great coalition. It is well past the time for ‘aiming’. It is time to fire!

Yes, there is hope still for a world that has been hijacked for some years by the forces of Satan. Leaders must forsake the greed and power that come with leadership and think only of the people for whom they work.

Billy Ray Chitwood – March, 2015

Now, might I interest you in Book Two of ‘The Bailey Crane Mystery Series’ – with each book in the six-book series standing alone but showing the progression of the central character. In Satan’s Song, a distraught mother seeks out Bailey Crane after her lovely young daughter is brutally murdered. The police cannot give her the closure she needs, and Bailey cannot turn the nice lady down. This story is inspired by a Phoenix, Arizona murder some years ago, and my imagination drifted here and there to come up with this story. The killer has a penchant for classical music, and the ending will blow you away… Hope you can read it and perhaps give it an Amazon review.

Satan's Song Nook Size`


Amazon US: http://www.goo.gl/ko2AW8

Amazon UK: http://www.goo.gl/nkgHfv

Amazon Worldwide: http://authl.it/1sw

Some links to my network:

http://www.about.me/brchitwood (Bio)

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (Independent Author Network – IAN – My books)

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (My website)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)



http://www.goo.gl/LwhLCG (linkedin.com)


The Casual Stranger


The Casual Stranger

(Flash Fiction)

He was six feet tall with a stern angular face and he walked with a limp, like one leg was shorter than the other. She watched him walk to the mahogany bar and take a stool next to her, his only choice as the late afternoon crowd was building. From the pretty bar maiden he ordered a double Makers Mark, three ice cubes, and a splash of water. Though his big cowboy hat and suede jacket gave him a casual air his voice had a cultured Texas tone, and he seemed conscious of her watching him.

“Afternoon,” he looked at her and spoke, “you saving this seat for someone?”

“No, it’s all yours… I like your hat.” She responded, feeling giddy on her third drink.

“Thanks, I get that a lot…it’s a special hat to me – with a great personal story…”

The bar maiden delivered the stranger’s drink, and he held it momentarily in his right hand, looking down into the glass of amber liquid, lost in deep thought. Then, he consumed half the drink in one gulp and stared straight ahead at the row of liquor bottles lined up along the smoke-mirrored back bar. It was as though he forgot they had exchanged a few words.

His comment about ‘a great personal story’ had piqued her interest.

“Look,” she said, “I’m not being forward and I’m not a ‘working girl’. My name is Janice and you seem like a very interesting man. You mentioned that hat you wear has ‘a great personal story’… Do you mind if I ask what makes it great?”

The stranger put his drink on the napkin, took a deep breath and looked at her with his penetrating brown eyes. “Well, Janice, let me get another drink and I’ll tell you that story.”

She was way ahead of him, told the bar maiden to bring two more drinks and put them on her tab.

“Well, now, hold on a moment, I can’t let you be buying me drinks, Janice. That’s not right, and we just met.”

“Well, Tex – since you won’t give me your name, I’ll just call you, Tex – I’m sure you know we live now in a new ‘free society’ where the genders are equal, so it’s my pleasure to treat…”

“I’ll be damned, ‘Tex’ is what I’m called, and, I’m not going to spoil this ‘free society’ thing you’re talking about. Thanks for the drink.”

“My pleasure, Tex. Now, how about that ‘hat story’?”

Tex began. “Janice, this hat has passed through three generations of my family, so, actually, there are three stories. My grandfather was a Texas Ranger and he got bushwhacked outside of Abilene by two horse thieves and murderers. Left to die in the blazing sun he had just enough strength to pull that hat over his face to keep the heat and rays from broiling him. My father and other Texas Rangers found him in time to save his life. When my grandfather died from cancer some years later he left that hat to my father.

“My father wore that hat everywhere, told me many stories about that hat and how it played a part in many Texas Ranger battles. His main episode with the hat came during a Texas Ranger raid on a nest of cattle rustlers over near Fort Worth. During the raid a big Texas dust storm came up, and the hat was lost. My father did not give up looking for that hat, and about three weeks later he saw a man wearing that hat in Benbrook, Texas – not far from the raid site. The man told my father he found the hat near the old road going into Fort Worth. The man was reluctant to give up the hat, so my father ended up giving him $30.00 for the hat.

“Now, I suppose anyone hearing these stories about a simple cowboy hat would likely think me crazy, but my father had a fondness for this hat and made me swear to keep passing it on to my children. I didn’t wear the hat one day and I had a bad car accident. Call me superstitious and crazy but I’ve worn this hat every day since that accident. My father talked a lot about this hat and what it meant to him and his father…guess I’m following the tradition. Hell, Janice, you know about cowboy hats and Texans – they’re inseparable. This one here is big-time special for me.”

The two talked through several more rounds of drinks, decided they would have dinner together at the nice restaurant at the Hilton Grand Hotel where Janice was staying. There was for Janice an unusual lure about this man from Texas. She was smitten and did not want the evening to end. On a trip to the ladies room she found her waiter, signed the dinner tab, and told him to announce at the table that the dinner was ‘on the house’.

After the sumptuous dinner, Janice and Tex went to Janice’s suite where she put the lights low and the music played softly in the background. The evening took its natural progression to the bedroom and lovemaking.

Tex spent most of the night, rising from the king bed quietly around 4:00 AM, dressing, spending a few moments at the bar in the living room, and leaving a note for Janice. He then left the suite.

When Janice awoke, yawned, and looked around for Tex, she was sad that he was gone. Then, she happily noticed the note on the bar next to her purse.

The note read:

You are a most special lady and it seems only appropriate

I leave a token of my gratitude…the hat that has been

So very profitable to me over the past few weeks.

Thank you for a wonderful evening!


A frown came to her face and she noticed her purse open. She looked inside and found all of her cash gone. Then, she looked at the cowboy hat at the end of the bar counter, and the anger came. She threw the hat on the carpet and stomped it with both feet for several seconds. She kicked the hat, followed it, kicked it some more.

Finally, she sat on the golden chaise lounge and stared at the walls, breathing fast and hard.

Suddenly, her lips began to form a smile and it widened. Then, she laughed with gusto until the tears came.

Billy Ray Chitwood – March, 2015

Links to My Sites:

http://www.about.me/brchitwood (Bio)

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (My website – My books +)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood (Main page)

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner (FB ‘like’ page – My books)



http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (Independent Author Network – IAN)

http://askdavid.com (Book Promotion)


http://www.goo.gl/xjNQhp  (youtube)


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The Omaha Park Incident


The Omaha Park Incident

(Flash Fiction)

The park was crowded with federal, local, and state political dignitaries, there for the statue unveiling of a most remarkable political figure, James Thomas Rhinestone. The outstanding leadership of this United States Senator from Nebraska led to the disposition of government gridlock which lasted for twenty years. He led the fight for bi-partisanship and transparency of congressional actions and administrative policies. In short, Mr. Rhinestone was the main catalyst in keeping democracy and freedom alive in the country, in dismantling and repealing the previous president’s socialistic executive orders.

The Omaha Park was replete with marching bands and enthusiastic speakers. The local police and security personnel were at strategic spots in the park. A colorful platform draped with American flags and beautiful vases of plants boomed the voices of politicians out across the large and lovely grounds. Thousands roared their jubilant approval after each proud statement. The sky was a bright blue for the momentous occasion, the weather comfortably warm for family picnicking on lustrous green grounds. For the thirsty and hungry there were lemonade stands, hamburger and hot dog stands. Speakers carried the messages of the orators across the vast area to loud happy shouts. Red, white, and blue kites floated lazily overhead, with kids and parents maneuvering to avoid collisions. Parents changed babies’ diapers and pushed pacifiers into their mouths to reduce the decibel level of their crying.

After a rousing introduction the final political speaker stood at the podium, an aide of the US president carrying a message about the hard work of Senator Rhinestone and a brief sketch of new policy decisions and a new course for the country…

“We are now a country revived from a long coma, able again to comprehend and abide by the Constitution of the United States. We are now a congress without the damaging quid pro quos of the past, without the filibusters than stood in the way of good honest legislation for ‘We The People’, without catering to special interests, and without remembering for whom we work.

“We are now a federal government who will help those who truly need help, who will pass on important issues to the states of our republic for rendering of decisions best made by them – education and otherwise, who will diligently deliver the very best security for our country, maintain the integrity of our borders, regulate only those entities best controlled by a central authority, balance the national budget, and commit the strength of all our armed forces to rid our country and the world of savage terrorists, those who spill blood in most heinous ways under the cloak of a religion they claim is the only one that matters. Be patient as our plans and policies are being shaped as we speak – just as a vast majority of our citizens have made their wishes known. I can solemnly promise that our actions will truly be transparent…”

As the final comments of the speaker are made, a red, white, and blue kite soars downward from the sky and crashes into the middle of the platform. With the crash comes a huge explosion that shatters the platform and kills people within fifty feet of the podium. The blood of many is thick and heavy upon the grass and shattered platform. Body parts of those near the kite blast fly into the frenzied crowd. The earth rumbles, shakes as families scream and act wildly in a cacophony of sound. Children stand mute, their eyes wide, unfocused, in bewildered shock, their faces the mirrors of a Van Gogh painting, lives forever scarred by the scenes all around them. The adults forsake reason, running, flailing, falling, bouncing into each other, dazed in their maniacal fear. In the haste cars crash into each other in an attempt to leave the scene of chaos.

It had happened!

That 9/11 moment of terror the people of America inwardly feared finally came. When reason returned and the reality was felt, anger came, blame came, crime of pettiness came, demands came, intelligence sources scurried, and, soon came an all-out US air and ground attack on Muslim terrorists in the Middle East, from Syria to West Africa, north and south. In the United States, in all fifty states, Muslims who were on the ‘Action Watch Lists’ of National Security were rounded up and put in the hastily built internment additions at Cuba’s Guantanamo Bay. The United States acted quickly to apply more crippling sanctions, choking the economy of Iran. The Iranian leadership became less belligerent and more tolerant of their perceived enemies.

The Omaha Park act of Terror created a bond among Americans reminiscent of the World War Two era and the ‘Greatest Generation’. The great and charitable nation wakened its sleeping giant to a new era of peace and prosperity

The United States prevailed and won the War on Terrorism, became again the respected leader of the free world.

Enough was enough!

Billy Ray Chitwood – March, 2015

My book, Mama’s Madness, has a different kind of evil and terror that is inspired by true events and hits very close to the core of something most of our society holds sacrosanct: family and most specifically, our children. Mama’s Madness is a novel that deals with an evil California mother who tortures and murders, who commits unfathomable acts that shock our senses and deny any forgiveness. The book is essentially the story of a daughter caught up in this evil web, yet still dares to dream and aspire for a happy ending… It is an unforgettable read with many 5-Star reviews. Hope you read it and leave an Amazon review.

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Amazon US: http://www.goo.gl/z0vJCN  

Amazon UK: http://www.goo.gl/R6gkiw

Amazon Worldwide: http://authl.it/1SQ

Links to My Sites:

http://www.about.me/brchitwood (Bio)

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (My website – My books +)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood (Main page)

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner (FB ‘like’ page – My books)



http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (Independent Author Network – IAN)

http://askdavid.com (Book Promotion)


http://www.goo.gl/xjNQhp  (youtube)


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The Muse and I


The Muse and I

There was a time

When the Muse Erato came often

Brought me from

A dormancy dreary of thought,

Brought me to

High points of my fancy and fun,

Held me close in

Her tender arms of rhapsody.

The years passed

And ink went dry within the pen,

And a harsh wind

Carried me with shrill Bacchus beats

To a dark despair

Not known since confusion of youth,

Until a new beginning

Carried me back to the daughter of Zeus.

And now I sit with pen

Poised to claim treasures that are mine

But find the poignant

Passage of Time has left me weary of Want.

All that might have been

Are now dreams filled with dancing specters

That laugh and mock me

With their metronomic ticks of passing years.

(Billy Ray Chitwood – March, 2015)

Some links to my Bio, Books, and Network:

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (Bio and Books)

http://www.about.me/brchitwood (Bio)

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (Independent Author Network – IAN)

http://amazon.com/author/billyraychitwood (Books)


http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood (My main FB page)

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner (My books and ‘like’ page)



Music’s Message


Music’s Message 

Do you feel lonesome and sad?

Play Vivaldi! Or, play some songs by Tim McGraw.

Do you feel angry, mad as hell, and not going to take it anymore?

Play Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony. Or, play some songs by Toby Keith.

Do you feel contemplative, pensive?

Play Bach or Haydn. Or, play some songs by ‘Ole Blue Eyes’ Frank Sinatra.

Do you feel happy and full of life?

Play Mozart. Or, play some songs  by Taylor Swift.

Do you feel sleepy and tired?

Play Brahms. Or, play some songs by R and B ‘The Floaters’.

When the land is blanketed with snow do you feel the need to have soft background music when you work, write, or enjoy a fire in the fireplace?

Play ‘New Age’ or light classical.

It’s difficult for me to imagine a world without music. Our movies build their scenes of drama and mirth with music. Long drives are made a bit easier by the music one enjoys. A romantic evening with your special love is heightened by a ballad that sings the words your heart sends through the eyes.

All through our civilized history, music has been an international language that connects people with their senses.

On this day when commerce is stalled by the snow, I write on my laptop while my ‘Georgie Boy’ is curled and napping on my Lazy Boy leg rest. In this tiny spot of the world, ‘God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world’.

Oh, were it so across the planet!

Billy Ray Chitwood – February, 2015

Do you like your murder mystery/suspense mixed with romance? Here’s one of my novels I think you will like…The Reluctant Savage has a love triangle plus a lot of evil and intrigue. Give it a read and write an amazon review…authors live by the reviews their books receive. Thank you in advance.



Amazon US: http://www.goo.gl/YE8e4X

Amazon UK: http://www.goo.gl/5QH8Sb

Amazon Worldwide: http://authl.it/1SS

Some Links:

http://www.about.me/brchitwood (bio and links)

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (my bio and books)

http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (IAN – Independent Author Network – bio and books)


http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood (Main FB page)

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner (My books and ‘like’ page)




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When Did it Get This Late?


When did it get this late?


When did it get this late?

Why are there no leaves on the trees?

No marigolds and lilies in the garden!

Where did the day go?

In the remembering, I forgot its passing.

Time does not forgive the wandering mind.

Why the world of hate?

There was a time when youth gave promise.

When eyes glowed with love and wonder.

Who am I here in shadows?

A man who cannot forget a cluttered past,

The smiles mixing with the flow of tears.

How to reconcile now and then?

With words scribbled on borrowed time

And the dreams yet lingering on the pen.


Billy Ray Chitwood – February, 2015

Some links to my Bio, Books and Networks:



http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (Independent Author Network – IAN)


http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood (Main FB page)

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner (My books and ‘like’ page)



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Remembering ‘The Rock’


Remembering ‘The Rock’

‘You Are Now Entering – and Leaving Adak National Forest’

The trees were eighteen inches high when planted on the tough tundra plot. The young men were pleased with their efforts. They made a special trip to Kodiak for the saplings – I forget the number of trees that they bought, but they covered less than an acre of the island’s land.

The island of Adak in the Aleutian Islands was (is) a barren and cold wasteland with the Pacific Ocean on one side and the Bering Sea on the other. There were a lot of pet names for the island but ‘The Rock’ was perhaps the most favored. Beauty of course was in the eye of the beholder, and I suppose there was some beauty to behold in watching the Pacific waves crash into the rocks along the islands’ eastern flank. I suppose as well that the Bering Sea conjured up images of Russia, and, after all, the city of Vladivostok was visible from Attu, the last island on the Aleutian Chain. There was beauty in the sun that made an all too infrequent appearance. For those few precious moments, moods shifted and there seemed a palpable cheerfulness in the air.

I was in Section Three of the three sections that governed our small piece of paradise we called ‘Radio City’. Radio City housed 150 men and was isolated and some miles from the Naval Operations Base (NOB), a much bigger facility with dependents quarters and many more activities…where we only had beer, NOB had any drink order anyone would want – in relatively fancy and lush surroundings.  Each section at Radio City worked three shifts and took a couple of days off – an evening shift 4:00PM to Midnight, a morning shift 8:00AM to 4:00PM, and a night shift Midnight to 8:00AM. Each section had its bar – or, Gedunk – manager and its snack bar manager. There was an arts and leather crafts hobby room, a small library, and a photography room.

Some of my Navy School buddies arrived on ‘The Rock’ prior to my arrival so they got the ego trips of showing me the ropes and getting me drunk on green beer my first night aboard…my great upheaval of which caused quite a stir later in our barracks. Being the popular fellow that I was, I was appointed to the beer bar management team – well, more or less…I bartended and got to stay after closing hours, helped clean up the joint, and stayed in the ‘hideaway bar office’ all night drinking with my buddies, telling jokes, pausing, getting a little sad when we talked about home, our girlfriends and/or wives.

So, you get the drift of the routine… The radio work – the ‘di-da-ditting’ and other prime duties – was interesting and kept us busy during our work shifts. It was during those days off when we got a little crazy – as in drunk and rowdy, creating issues that didn’t really exist, then fighting about them – just temporary insanities that were fabricated and fleeting. Actually, there was a camaraderie that came during that Naval tour of duty, and, years later, I’m finding myself at times thinking about Mel Smunk, Billy Oaks, Billy Barrett, and so many other of my drinking pals whose images are locked in my memory vault. We forged an alliance that saw us through some tough days, weeks, and months. We saw the withering will of many take them to the edge of some awful darkness. ‘The Rock’ could do that to you, and maybe some of that wasteland dreariness and loneliness made us less or more of what we became later in life.

As much as ‘The Rock’ left its bitter green beer taste I can still look back with a fond recall of some chaps who made my life bearable. And I wonder where they are now. Are they still among the living? Do they remember as I do those long nights of drinking, of consoling one another, of the dreams we shared, and the long walks back to the barracks and a fitful sleep? Do they remember some of the made-up incidents just to get our juices flowing – like, the time the story was made-up that a group of naughty girls were flying in from the states to give us special service? We even began to believe our own made-up story. Do they remember how many times we wrote in a letter home that ‘There’s a girl behind every tree’ on Adak?

Okay, no girls, no trees (except for the planted saplings that have maybe grown tall by now), just tundra, cold gray skies, and a small piece of an island called ‘Radio City’ that either added to our growth as men, or, took a piece of us to which we cannot put words. We saw no real war on Adak, but we did some play acting and maneuvers. And, we did see a little bit of hell in the uncaring snows, tundra, williwaws, and in the unrelenting repetition of days…just one hundred fifty men emotionally counting the days when they would leave ‘The Rock’ for home.

If you’re still around, guys, I’m thinking of you here in ‘Twilight’…

Billy Ray Chitwood – February 14, 2015

Thought I might mention one of my titles which in some ways is shameful, and, hopefully, in other ways, soul cleansing. The title, What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale looks back on my days of romance and my search for a deepening faith. It is honest, true to my memory, and perhaps touches on some important parts of each life. Hopefully, you will give it a read and an amazon review.

What Happens Next - 9


Amazon US: http://www. goo.gl/I6g88L

Amazon UK: http://www. goo.gl/vuwSpB

Amazon Worldwide: http://authl.it/1u8

My Links:

http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com (My bio and books)

http://www.about.me/brchitwood (Bio and links)


http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (Independent Author Network – IAN – Bio/Books)

http://twitter.com/brchitwood (@brchitwood)

http://facebook.com/billyray.chitwood (Main FB page)

http://facebook.com/billyrayscorner (My FB ‘Books & Like’ page)


https://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard  (My books for ‘free preview’)

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NOTE: My other six blog awards of which I’m very proud do not appear in this post in consideration of space.