Succubus Tear (Triune promise)
Read Succubus Tear (Triune promise) Online
Authors: Andreas Wiesemann
Succubus Tear
By
Andreas Wiesemann
Illustrations by
Edited by
Chapter 4; An Intrusion to Hell
Chapter 8; Reality Is Stranger Than You Think
Chapter 9; The Authority of Existence
Chapter 10; Jealousy Becomes Al’bah
Chapter 11; Wheels Within Wheels
Chapter 12; The First of Many Days
Chapter 14; Works of Adoration
Chapter 15; Did I Miss Something
Chapter 16; Truth Is Not Always Gentle
Chapter 19; The Beginnings of Hardship
Chapter 20; Cain Meets Walter Stratton
Chapter 22; I Am in the Pain of Loneliness
Chapter 23; Enter Stella Fullson
Chapter 24; Answering to the Law
Chapter 26; New Perspective and New Direction
Chapter 27; Familiar Is Not Always Better
Chapter 29; There Is Nothing So Seductive as a Second Chance
Chapter 30; Blue-Eyed Observations
Chapter 31; Self-Destiny Comes from a Mind Made-Up
Chapter 32; Difference between Law and Good
Chapter 35; Why Do You Tremble
Chapter 36; Plans within Plans
Chapter 39; The Will of One Who Loves Another
Chapter 40; What Makes One Worthy of Love?
Chapter 43; The Blessing of a Hateful Friend
Chapter 44; The Line Between Friend and Foe
Chapter 45; Taken Forcibly What Would Have Been Left Behind Willingly
Chapter 49; Wanderings in the Desert
Chapter 52; Life, Warmth, and Worth
Chapter 53; Separation of Pasts
Chapter 54; Al’bah’s Fury, Cain’s Punishment
Chapter 56; Because He Is God!
Chapter 57; What Do You Have Left, When All Is Taken
Chapter 59; The End of Strength
Chapter 62; Switched Perspective
Chapter 66; What Legacy Exalts You Above All Men?
Chapter 69; The Call of the Nephelim
Epilogue; Walter, Jeannette, and Shane
Book two; The Greatest of all Nephelim
We all start somewhere, and I started writing Succubus Tear with many people who were not writers thinking highly of me.
I knew I needed something more, and I turned to a group of writers.
www.thenextbigwriter.com
From there, I have met writers who helped me along the way; helping me unlock a potential that still has a long, long way to go. Here, I give them my thanks, and acknowledgement.
J l mo
(Jeanie Morales, Author of Tierra Tree)
Dagnee
E.M. Havens
(“bimm
y
�
�
Author of
Fate War Alliance
)
Juan G
(Juan Gutierrez, Author of
The Rise of Bob McDoogal
)
Rain Walker (Author of Walking Contradiction)
Amy s
(Author of Mandates of Magic)
Mariana Reuter
(Author of Amber Eyes)
Unbar
(Author of Secrets of Murienar)
Mark3535
(Author of A child of two worlds)
Seabrass
(Author of Closure)
CJ Driftwood
(Author of Into the Fog, dawn of the Tiger)
Memphis Trace
(Author of Good at dying)
And to those who are not necessarily writers, but read and enjoyed my story.
Nancy Kintz
Frank Wiesemann
Dawn Moore
Succubus Tear was written as a need.
Funny how things work out in your life, but there it is all the same. When I started to write Succubus Tear it was during perhaps the worst year(s) of my life.
There I was, an xray tech, CT tech, father, husband, working a full time job and going to school full time as well.
My life wasn’t easy before; financial, marital, or professional. So one can imagine how much more difficult things like that become when all aspects of my life became strained even moreso.
And through it all, I had to write. Not that I wanted to, or needed to… I had to.
As a car emits exhaust, the stresses and pressure I was under produced the idea, and later the story behind Succubus Tear.
I am a dreamer. I am a Pisces. And, I am a Christian.
For Succubus Tear, I wanted a story that had a strong presence of my faith, and a strong presence of love, romance, and the struggles many undergo.
But, I wanted more for my own story. And so, I leaned heavily upon the one thing I always had; my wonderment.
This wonderment will separate me from a lot of mainstream Christians. I do not believe for one second that my particular interpretations of existence are true. I just like to believe that they are possible.
And, if you’re reading this, it means that I have achieved a dream. This great work I have done is now being seen by your eyes. Not that I use the word ‘great’ to exult what I done, but that the work I did was difficult.
All the illustrations within are done by Jimmy Lang, with varying degrees of budget. As I continue to learn, and continue to practice patience, I will get to make Succubus Tear an audio novel, and a graphic novel.
Thank you,
-Andreas Wiesemann
Cain Lamentson
“I love you, Cain. God loves you. I don’t know why I didn’t see that, to you, rejection of God and love are one in the same. When I chose to believe in you, I was choosing to break my own heart.”
—Cynthia Ronalds
Cain watched concrete ooze from the ass end of the
truck, reminding him of wet dog food that always took its damned time to slide out of the can. It mounded as a thick, heavy, half-frozen paste that was impossible to move, thanks to the weather.
“Ice-cold gruel for you children! Please, sir, do ya want some more?” the driver of the truck bawled out with a nasal voice.
Cain started to spread the concrete, not even bothering to look up; he was in a bad mood.
It was the third day in a row that he had to work in wet weather.
His mood wasn't foul because of the rain. After all, he was a construction worker; days like these were a part of the job description. What he didn’t like was the freezing cold. Winter in the city seemed to hold an everlasting vendetta against any light or warmth. The cold repaid a half-decent day with three days of hell—frozen hell, at that. Those days, with biting wind and rain refusing to turn to snow despite the subzero temperature, were particularly spiteful, freezing your coffee before you had a chance to drink it.
If one can even believe that crappy outdoor thermometer!
Cain grumbled in his head while he eyed the sky. “This building will never get done if the foundation doesn’t dry and cure correctly,” he said through clenched teeth as the eternal slate-gray sky indifferently spattered his face. The other workers paid no attention to him, and it was just as well. He had no desire for the vulgar small talk which thrived at every construction site he had ever known.
Another load of cold gray concrete slopped into the forms as the driver bawled out again, “Moooore!”
Cain returned to the task at hand, his muscular shoulders and strong back burned from the effort as sweat wetted his brow and stung his dark brown eyes. He grabbed a handful of his shirt to wipe his face.
“Woo! Take it all off! Let the ladies see that six-pack!”
Cain glared at the fat jack-off in the truck. “Shut your fat face!”
***
At last, the rest of the concrete was poured and smoothed out. Cain checked his cell phone: 1:22.
Good, I’m starving anyway!
he thought to himself as he walked off to find Charlie, his best friend for over ten years.
Cain quickly found him,
fully occupied, flirting with a pretty woman across the street from the jobsite. Cain sighed a bit in relief, hoping it was a sign Charlie was finally getting over his last girlfriend. The sigh ended in a bit of a cough as the memory of Holly brought forth his guilt over her tragic death.
A sudden wind picked up; the cold was even more intense than before, thanks to his sweat-drenched clothes. Making up his mind, Cain decided not to interrupt and went off alone. As he walked, he started to think about the next job assignment he was likely to go for.
Perhaps south this time, to a warmer climate. I am so sick of the cold and—
“And you, sir, have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Savior?”
Cain looked up, so absorbed in his thoughts he didn’t realize he took Church Street and was now confronted by one of the local outreach Baptists.
“You know, Jesus? God in the flesh? Lord and Savior of all mankind, who died for your sins?”
“No.”
The Christian seemed taken aback. “Would you like to hear about Jesus?” he asked, his foolish grin slipping.
Cain scowled. “No.”
“I see.” The pseudo-friendly expression on the young Christian’s face disappeared. “Well, I’ll be praying for you.”
Cain resumed walking. “Save it for yourself, or better yet—”