by Andrei V. Lefebvre
Writer, Adventurer, Student of Life
A gust of the desert wind brings a
stream of the unbearably hot air into my house
and wakes me up. As I lift my eyelids unhappily,
my darkened living room comes into view. I fell
asleep on a couch last night. The sleep begins to
leave me and I realize that someone else is in the
room with me.
A large man sits in my favorite chair. My nose wakes up
completely just then and reports a smell of the fine Cuban
tobacco. The man has a lit cigar in his teeth. When he takes a
long drag from it, the burning end lights up his face for a brief
moment. I recognize him instantly.
“Hi, Marty,” I say and sit up. “What brings you here in the
middle of the night?”
He does not answer right away. We’ve known each other since
childhood. I value our friendship greatly for his maker had
broken the mold right after he was created. Whereas, I, with all
my other friends, had joined the very exclusive club called The
Great American Middle Class, Marty had remained true to his
teenage ideals. He had spent years in the Uncle Sam’s
employment. Some people say he was in the Special Forces;
others peg him a CIA man. No one, however, knows for sure.
“I need to go away,” he speaks finally and puts a large manila
folder on my coffee table. “If I am not back within sixty days,
open it, study it, and write about it. One thing, though, change
names …”
Sixty days pass. Marty does not come back for the file. I open
it, study it, and write abut it. And, yes, I change names.
Read all about it in my new book: Two Highways from
Arthur & Bocci. It is available from this website, your
local bookstore, and Amazon.com.
Writer, Adventurer, Student of Life
A gust of the desert wind brings a
stream of the unbearably hot air into my house
and wakes me up. As I lift my eyelids unhappily,
my darkened living room comes into view. I fell
asleep on a couch last night. The sleep begins to
leave me and I realize that someone else is in the
room with me.
A large man sits in my favorite chair. My nose wakes up
completely just then and reports a smell of the fine Cuban
tobacco. The man has a lit cigar in his teeth. When he takes a
long drag from it, the burning end lights up his face for a brief
moment. I recognize him instantly.
“Hi, Marty,” I say and sit up. “What brings you here in the
middle of the night?”
He does not answer right away. We’ve known each other since
childhood. I value our friendship greatly for his maker had
broken the mold right after he was created. Whereas, I, with all
my other friends, had joined the very exclusive club called The
Great American Middle Class, Marty had remained true to his
teenage ideals. He had spent years in the Uncle Sam’s
employment. Some people say he was in the Special Forces;
others peg him a CIA man. No one, however, knows for sure.
“I need to go away,” he speaks finally and puts a large manila
folder on my coffee table. “If I am not back within sixty days,
open it, study it, and write about it. One thing, though, change
names …”
Sixty days pass. Marty does not come back for the file. I open
it, study it, and write abut it. And, yes, I change names.
Read all about it in my new book: Two Highways from
Arthur & Bocci. It is available from this website, your
local bookstore, and Amazon.com.
Two Highways
Science Fiction Mystery
by Andrei V. Lefebvre
Arthur & Bocci
ISBN: 978-0-578-03629-8
Science Fiction Mystery
by Andrei V. Lefebvre
Arthur & Bocci
ISBN: 978-0-578-03629-8
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Man Found Dead in L.A.
Mother Claims She Burried Him Years Ago
Mass Murder in Bedroom Comunity, U.S. Agent Disappears
Mother Claims She Burried Him Years Ago
Mass Murder in Bedroom Comunity, U.S. Agent Disappears
