{"id":12196,"date":"2012-06-21T20:15:27","date_gmt":"2012-06-22T01:15:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=12196"},"modified":"2012-06-21T20:15:27","modified_gmt":"2012-06-22T01:15:27","slug":"the-telling-by-mike-duran","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=12196","title":{"rendered":"The Telling by Mike Duran"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"http:\/\/firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882\" style=\"cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;\" src=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/TA3PbPpKjHI\/AAAAAAAAEFE\/e9Dq6nSnpCA\/s200\/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg\" alt=\"\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a>It is time for a <span style=\"color: #990000;\"><strong><a href=\"http:\/\/firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com\/\">FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old&#8230;or for somewhere in between! <span style=\"color: #990000;\"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<div style=\"text-align: left;\" align=\"center\"><strong>Today&#8217;s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: left;\" align=\"center\"><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: left;\" align=\"center\"><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mikeduran.com\/\">Mike Duran<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<h2 style=\"text-align: center;\">\u00a0<span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;\">and the book:<\/span><\/h2>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\" align=\"center\"><\/div>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">\u00a0<strong><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616386940\">The Telling<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<div align=\"center\"><span style=\"text-align: -webkit-auto;\">Realms (May 15, 2012)<\/span><\/div>\n<div align=\"center\"><\/div>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><strong>***Special thanks to Althea Thompson | Publicity Coordinator, Charisma House | <\/strong><br \/>\n<strong>Charisma Media for sending me a review copy.***<\/strong><\/p>\n<div align=\"left\"><strong><span style=\"color: #333399; font-size: 130%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\" href=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-PNg_Qxbki68\/T-KtsmHtprI\/AAAAAAAAIxA\/X_yr6kPHmKo\/s1600\/Headshot.JPG\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/-PNg_Qxbki68\/T-KtsmHtprI\/AAAAAAAAIxA\/X_yr6kPHmKo\/s200\/Headshot.JPG\" alt=\"\" width=\"132\" height=\"200\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>Mike Duran was a finalist in Faith in Fiction&#8217;s inaugural short story contest and was chosen as one of ten authors to be published in Infuze Magazine\u2019s 2005 print anthology. He is author of the short story \u201cEn Route to Inferno,\u201d which appeared in Coach\u2019s Midnight Diner: Back from the Dead edition, and received the Editor\u2019s Choice award for his creative nonfiction essay titled \u201cThe Ark,\u201d published in the Summer 2.3 Issue of Relief Journal. In between blogs, he also writes a monthly column for Novel Journey and has served as editor on the Midnight Diner\u2019s editorial team. Duran is an ordained minister and lives with his wife and four grown children in Southern California.<\/p>\n<p>Visit the author&#8217;s <a href=\"http:\/\/mikeduran.com\/\">website<\/a>.<\/p>\n<div align=\"left\"><strong><span style=\"color: #333399; font-size: 130%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p><a style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\" href=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-d3j6VkPfcPQ\/T-Ktr-E5LRI\/AAAAAAAAIw4\/4Wth6OwORjk\/s1600\/Duran,+The+Telling+FINAL.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/-d3j6VkPfcPQ\/T-Ktr-E5LRI\/AAAAAAAAIw4\/4Wth6OwORjk\/s200\/Duran,+The+Telling+FINAL.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"127\" height=\"200\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><strong>A prophet never loses his calling, only his way.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Disfigured with a hideous scar from his stepmother, Zeph Walker lives his life in seclusion, cloistering himself in a ramshackle bookstore on the outskirts of town. But Zeph is also blessed with a gift\u2014an uncanny ability to foresee the future,to know peoples\u2019 deepest sins and secrets. He calls it the Telling, but he has abandoned this gift to a life of solitude, unbelief, and despair\u2014until two detectives escort him to the county morgue where he finds his own body lying on the gurney.<\/p>\n<p>On the northern fringes of Death Valley, the city of Endurance is home to llama ranches, abandoned mines, roadside attractions&#8230;and the mythical ninth gate of hell. Now, forced to investigate his own murder, Zeph discovers something even more insidious behind the urban legends and small-town eccentricities. Early miners unearthed a megalith\u2014asacred site where spiritual and physical forces converge and where an ancient subterranean presence broods. And only Zeph can stop it.<\/p>\n<p>But the scar on Zeph\u2019s face is nothing compared to the wound on his soul. For not only has he abandoned his gift and renounced heaven, but it was his own silence that spawned the evil. Can he overcome his own despair in time to seal the ninth gate of hell?<\/p>\n<p><strong>His words unlocked something deadly,<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>And now the silence is killing them.<\/strong><\/p>\n<div align=\"center\"><object width=\"640\" height=\"360\" classid=\"clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000\" codebase=\"http:\/\/download.macromedia.com\/pub\/shockwave\/cabs\/flash\/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0\"><param name=\"allowFullScreen\" value=\"true\" \/><param name=\"allowscriptaccess\" value=\"always\" \/><param name=\"src\" value=\"http:\/\/www.youtube-nocookie.com\/v\/UUPoK7il1oY?version=3&amp;hl=en_US&amp;rel=0\" \/><param name=\"allowfullscreen\" value=\"true\" \/><embed width=\"640\" height=\"360\" type=\"application\/x-shockwave-flash\" src=\"http:\/\/www.youtube-nocookie.com\/v\/UUPoK7il1oY?version=3&amp;hl=en_US&amp;rel=0\" allowFullScreen=\"true\" allowscriptaccess=\"always\" allowfullscreen=\"true\" \/><\/object><\/div>\n<p>Product Details:<\/p>\n<ul>\n<li>List Price: $13.99<\/li>\n<li>Paperback: 304 pages<\/li>\n<li>Publisher: Realms (May 15, 2012)<\/li>\n<li>Language: English<\/li>\n<li>ISBN-10: 1616386940<\/li>\n<li>ISBN-13: 978-1616386948<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: large;\">AND NOW&#8230;THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong><br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<div style=\"height: 307px; overflow: auto;\">\n<p>He used to believe everyone was born with the magic, an innate hotline to heaven. Some called it intuition, a sixth sense; others called it the voice of God. Zeph Walker called it the Telling. It was not something you could teach or, even worse, sell- people just had it. Of course, by the time their parents, teachers, and society got through with them, whatever connection they had with the Infinite pretty much vanished. So it was, when Zeph reached his twenty-sixth birthday, the Telling was just an echo.<\/p>\n<p>That&#8217;s when destiny came knocking for him.<\/p>\n<p>It arrived in the form of two wind-burnt detectives packing heat and a mystery for the ages. They flashed their badges, said he was needed for questioning. Before he could object or ask for details, they loaded him into the backseat of a mud-splattered Crown Victoria and drove across town to the county morgue. The ride was barely ten minutes, just long enough for Zeph Walker to conclude that, maybe, the magic was alive and well.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;You live alone?&#8221; The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror.<\/p>\n<p>Zeph adjusted his sunglasses. &#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t blame you.&#8221; The detective looked at his partner, who smirked in response.<\/p>\n<p>Zeph returned his gaze to the passing landscape.<\/p>\n<p>Late summers in Endurance were as beautiful as a watercolor and as hot as the devil&#8217;s kitchen. The aspens on the ridge showed gold, and the dogwoods along the creeks had already begun to thin. Yet the arid breeze rising from Death Valley served as an ever-present reminder that beauty always lives in close proximity to hell.<\/p>\n<p>They came to a hard stop in front of a white plaster building. The detectives exited the car, and Zeph followed their cue. A ceramic iguana positioned under a sprawling blue sage grinned mockingly at him. Such was the landscape decor of the county coroner&#8217;s building. The structure doubled as a morgue. It occupied a tiny plot of red earth, surrounded by a manicured cactus garden complete with indigenous flora, bison skulls, and birdbaths. Without previous knowledge, one could easily mistake the building for a cultural center or art gallery. Yet Zeph knew that something other than pottery and Picassos awaited him inside.<br \/>\nThe bigger of the two detectives, a vaquero with a nifty turquoise belt buckle and matching bolo tie, pulled the door open and motioned for Zeph to enter. The man had all the charm of a cage fighter.<\/p>\n<p>Zeph wiped perspiration off his forehead and stepped into a small vestibule.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis way.\u201d The cowboy clomped past, leaving the smell of sweat and cheap cologne.<\/p>\n<p>They led him past an unoccupied desk into a corridor. Bland southwestern prints adorned sterile white walls. The stench of form- aldehyde and decay lingered here, and Zeph\u2019s stomach flip-flopped in response. The hallway intersected another where two lab technicians stood in whispered conversation. They straightened as the detectives approached. After a brief nod from one of the white-jacketed men, Zeph\u2019s escorts proceeded to an unmarked room.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe got someone fer you to ID.\u201d The cowboy placed his hand on the door and studied Zeph. \u201cYou don\u2019t get sick easy, do ya?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He swallowed. \u201cDepends.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, if you\u2019re gonna puke, don\u2019t do it on these.\u201d He pointed to a set of well-polished eel-skin boots. \u201cComprende?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, sir. I mean\u2014yes! Yes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The detective scowled, then pushed the door open, waiting. Zeph\u2019s heart was doing double-time. Whose body was he about to<\/p>\n<p>see? What condition was it in? His mind raced with the possibilities. Maybe a friend had suffered a car accident. Although he didn\u2019t have many friends to die in one. Perhaps the Hitcher, that mythical appari- tion who stalked the highway in his childhood, had claimed another victim. More likely Zeph\u2019s old man had finally keeled over. However, he was convinced that his father had stopped living a long time ago.<\/p>\n<p>Zeph drew a deep breath, took two steps into the room, perched his sunglasses on the top his head . . . and froze. In the center, framed under a single oval swath of light, lay a body on a autopsy table\u2014a body that looked strangely familiar.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTake a good look, Mr. Walker.\u201d The detective\u2019s boots clicked with precision on the yellowed linoleum. He circled the rolling metal cart, remaining just outside the reach of the fluorescent light. \u201cAnd maybe you can help us figger this out.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Zeph remained near the door, hesitant to take another step.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGo ahead.\u201d The second detective sauntered around the opposite side, gesturing to the body. \u201cHe ain\u2019t gonna bite.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The detectives positioned themselves on either end of the table. They watched him.<\/p>\n<p>A black marble countertop, its surface dulled by a thin blanket of dust, ran the length of one wall. In front of it sat a single wooden stool. The low-hanging lamp bleached the body monochrome. Zeph had seen enough procedurals and CSI knock-offs to know this was not an autopsy room. Perhaps it was used for viewings, maybe occa- sional poker games. But as the detectives studied him, he was starting to wonder if this was an interrogation room. Scalpels, pincers, saws. Oh, what exotic torture devices one might assemble from a morgue! Nevertheless, this particular room appeared to have not been used in a long time. And by the fevered sparkle in their eyes, these men seemed inspired about the possibility of doing so.<\/p>\n<p>Zeph glanced from one man to the other, and then he edged toward the corpse.<\/p>\n<p>Its flesh appeared dull, and the closer he got, the less it actu- ally looked like skin. Perhaps the body had been drained of blood or bleached by the desert sun. He inched closer. Sunken pockets appeared along the torso, and he found himself wondering what could have possibly happened to this person.<\/p>\n<p>The head lay tilted back, its bony jaw upturned, cords of muscle taut across a gangly neck. A white sheet draped the body at the chest, and just above it a single bloodless hole about the size of a nickel notched the sternum. He crept forward, trying to distin- guish the person\u2019s face. First he glimpsed nostrils, then teeth, and then . . . something else.<\/p>\n<p>That something else brought Zeph to a standstill.<\/p>\n<p>How could it be? Build. Facial features. Hair color. This person looked exactly like him. There was even a Star of David tattooed on the right arm, above the bicep\u2014the same as Zeph\u2019s.<\/p>\n<p>What were the chances, the mathematical probabilities, that one human being could look so identical to another? Especially in a town the size of Endurance.<br \/>\n\u201cIs this . . . \u201d Zeph\u2019s tone was detached, his eyes fixed on the body. \u201cIs this some kinda joke?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The detectives hunkered back into the shadows without responding.<\/p>\n<p>Goose bumps rose on Zeph\u2019s forearms as the overhead vent rattled to life, sluicing cool air into the room. He took another step closer to the cadaver until his thigh nudged the table, jolting the stiff and bringing Zeph to a sudden stop. He peered at the bizarre figure.<\/p>\n<p>Their similarities were unmistakable. The lanky torso and append- ages. The tousled sandy hair. Thick brows over deep-set eyes. This guy looks exactly like me!<\/p>\n<p>However, it was one feature\u2014the most defining feature of Zeph Walker\u2019s existence\u2014that left him teetering in disbelief: the four-inch scar that sheared the corpse\u2019s mouth.<\/p>\n<p>Zeph stumbled back, lungs frozen, hand clasped over the ugly scar on his own face.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDarnedest thing, ain\u2019t it?\u201d The cowboy sounded humored by<\/p>\n<p>Zeph\u2019s astonishment. \u201cGuy\u2019s a spittin\u2019 image of you, Mr. Walker.\u201d Zeph slowly lowered his hand and glanced sideways at the man.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYeah. Except I don\u2019t have a bullet hole in my chest.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The detective\u2019s grin soured, and he squinted warily at Zeph. \u201cIndeed you don\u2019t.\u201d The second man stepped into the light. \u201cBut the real question, young man, is why someone would want to put one there.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/divider2.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-10857\" title=\"divider2\" src=\"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/divider2.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"317\" height=\"61\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/divider2.png 317w, https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/02\/divider2-150x28.png 150w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 317px) 100vw, 317px\" \/><\/a><br \/>\n<strong>MY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><a title=\"The Telling by Mike Duran\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616386940\">The Telling<\/a> is one of those books that can easily keep you up until the wee hours because you can&#8217;t put it down but then you NEED to check all the doors and windows and turn on all the lights.\u00a0 In this unique tale of good versus evil, grandma Annie, a member of &#8220;the remnant&#8221; feels that it is critical that she find out why so many people around her are suddenly not themselves. As the phenomenon continues to spread, her investigation leads her to some startling conclusions that puts the lives of herself and other members of the remnant in danger as they rush to stop an event that could threaten the entire world. Their only hope is Zeph Walker, a former child prophet, whose tragic background has caused him to turn away from God and his gifting.<\/p>\n<p><a title=\"The Telling by Mike Duran\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616386940\">The Telling<\/a> is a beautifully written story that grips the imagination and causes the reader to consider the invisible spiritual realm that surrounds us. Not only is it a great story but it should inspire\u00a0 readers to look deeper into themselves to reveal some important truth about their own lives . Some questions that came to my mind were:<\/p>\n<ul>\n<li>What has God called us to do and what gifts has He given to help us fulfill those purposes?<\/li>\n<li>Have we allowed circumstances in our lives to detract us from our calling or to even turn our backs on it?<\/li>\n<li>\u00a0Is it possible for God to use skeptics to fulfill His purposes?<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p>Each of these questions is covered within the pages of <a title=\"The Telling by Mike Duran\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616386940\">The Telling<\/a> as they apply to some of the primary characters. Each of the primary characters has a mission from God in this story and each has his own unique gift to help the cause. One character has allowed events from his past to feed his spirit with lies that deter him from his calling. Another is skeptical of everything but ends up playing a major role in the mission.<\/p>\n<p>All in all, I found <a title=\"The Telling by Mike Duran\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616386940\">The Telling<\/a> to be both entertaining and thought provoking. I would highly recommend it to those who enjoy Christian supernatural suspense but warn that it could cause nightmares in some.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,97,129,33],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12196","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-spiritural-warfare","category-supernatural","category-suspense"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12196"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12196"}],"version-history":[{"count":16,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12196\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12213,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12196\/revisions\/12213"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12196"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12196"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12196"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}