E Lloyd Kelly

Collect Call is a collection of short stories and poems of the times. Told with a twisted comedic edge, poetry, wordplay, and sensational spellings. Seasoned with snippets of Jamaican Patois inserted here and there throughout, as may be found fitting. Yeah man, no doubt, a Jamaica yaad mi cum fram. Sorry, I meant to say, I'm Jamaican-born and bred, okay? Most of these stories and poems have been published as stand-alone pieces over the years but this is your chance at getting them all in one place. So here for you is; Collect Call.

Long ago, in the faraway kingdom of the Willow and Oak. There lived two neighboring tribes - the peaceful and humble tribe of the Willow, those were known as the forest dwellers, and the fierce and proud tribe of the Oak; the big-time town folks. For centuries, the two tribes lived in harmony, bound by a vow made by their ancestors in ancient times. The vow stated that as long as the river flowed and the sun rose, the two tribes would live in peace, and help each other in times of need. However, as the years passed, the tribe of the Oak grew greedy and arrogant. They coveted the fertile land and abundant resources of the Willow tribe and began to see them as inferior. The Oak tribe slowly began to break the vow and started treating the Willow tribe with disdain and cruelty. The Willow tribe, being peaceful by nature, did not retaliate but instead tried to reason things out with the Oak tribe and remind them of the vow. But now, this will make you whistle it out in your palms like blow-outs. Or try to. Just hot air was found coming through the rounded lips of the mouth. Theold man is looking on and seeing these things, and hearing by way of hisever-listening ear. He has been around for quite a long time. Long enough tohave been able to see and hear a lot, and now? This is quite another thing thathe's about to experience. The dude should have done more to maintain his statusand place in Cekkoland Ore. But was a little too careless again, I'm sure. So, you want something unique and different; right? This is it. Thisis not your typical girl meets boy, winning the joy, character-hoppingplot-wrapping sweetie-flick bit. This is an analytical look at a book, bookings, and crooks. As well as us carrying on with telling you about thecarryings-on of some; Gods, kings, and cooks. Theimmortal lone-rider is left burdened down with the task of bearing witnessalong the path, and recording it all for Mr. Wood-Rowe, and the rest of us; thelost, no? "No." "Yes, the tasks have fallen plumb upon him to look upon it, to do the records, and to tell these stories properly. But he's constantly being dragged back into the brawl, against his will at all." Move along, there's nothing here to see, just a mocking motley fool, and some poetry. TheSword, The Word, and the Writings is: A Novel: Real InkyTrail book series. Book 3 of the series Note. This story is told from a Carib-Jamericanadian perspective. In a richly blended language mix of; Jamaican patois, nonsense talk, and sensational spelling, sometimes. Yes, wordplay is the order of the day around here.

Ten thousand years ago, the mighty Cekko people ruled the land. This is according to the KDs measuring tools and how such records are kept in Kingsland. The scepter has now been passed on to these, a ruthless clan of murderers and thieves. They are the ones now in command, and the entire Kingsland is just about to feel the caring habits under the right lefthand of their peace. One man and his dog from the past are left walking the path, hoping to find even a remnant of the ancient kinds, but... This story is toldfrom a Carib-Jamericanadian perspective, in a richly blended language mix of;nonsense talk, sensational spelling, wry humor, and a feeble attempt at poetry.Yes, wordplay is the order of the day around here. With snippets of Jamaican Patoisinserted here and there throughout, as may be found fitting. Yeah man, aJamaica yaad mi cum fram, sorry, I meant to say, I'm Jamaican born andbred-okay? Note: No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way without the written permission of therights owner, E Lloyd Kelly, except as in the case of brief excerpts orquotations used for purposes of critical articles and reviews. This is a workof fiction, therefore, any references to people, names, places, events, etc.are purely and solely figments of the author's imagination, and should not beconstrued as real.Copyrights Protected Materials (c) 2022. All Rights Reserved.

"Raw, Real, and full of Fun." New Hiking Trail Cast Shadow on the Tattooed is a work of fiction. Born out of some fool's wild imagination. Told in wry humor, and a feeble attempt at poetry. Yes, word play is the order of the day around here too. With snippets of Jamaican Patois inserted here and there throughout, as may be found fitting. Yeah man, a Jamaica yaad mi cum fram, sorry, I meant to say, I'm Jamaican born and bred-okay? These well-sculptured, firm-bodied Cekko-warrior girls traverse diverse dimensions astride long-legged Zebra-striped beasts in search of the lost Genodes. Dishing out their brand of peace and passivity liberally along the way, not even special agent Shadow was to be spared. Yes, Shadow casting was a regular everyday occurrence in the Cekkoland sphere. Until he was force-pushed out and into the humanoid spheres, and now, look. Look at what they have gone and done... Note: No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any way without the written permission of the rights owner, E Lloyd Kelly, except as in the case of brief excerpts or quotations used for purposes of critical articles and reviews. This is a work of fiction and therefore, any references to people and their names, places, events, etc. are purely and solely figments of the author's imagination, and should not be construed as being real.

Certains Shitty vacances est une histoire fictive d'un tueur gages vacances de la p gre de la drogue, qui se trouvait tre aspir e dans la m me situation qu'il essayait difficile d' chapper. Son plan d' vacuation tait la fois pour le court, ainsi que le long terme, car il avait pr vu d'utiliser ce (court terme) voyage Montr al, Qu bec, la recherche davantage le plan de rendez- vous long terme, qu'il avait t compte tenu de ces derniers temps. La route m ne de Norfolk VA Montr al, Qu bec. et le dos. Mais certaines personnes ne peuvent tout simplement pas faire une pause, peuvent - ils?

Espaces: My Space, votre espace et l'espace public est un tell-all livre relatant les histoires, les histoires de route de Montr al. Suivez les histoires fascinantes de la vie comme un automobiliste, cycliste, pi ton ou tout simplement un spectateur attentif dans et autour de la ville de Montr al, Qu bec et ses environs. Certaines de ces anecdotes sont de retour avec un support visuel via des vid os YouTube affich es lors d' un appel de la s rie; Poulet fou ou oeuf fou qui vient en premier Montr al au Qu bec? Poulet fou ou oeuf fou?

Mayor Clint Smith was the fiercest warrior in the fight to make and keep Pittsburgh as the cleanest city in all of America, not only in terms of employing great men with brooms but also in terms of employing the greatest and most capable minds of people with other tools-of-the-trades. Some, mightier than those of the broom-brigades. His plan had been so very successful in getting a handle on the narcotics trade that, most other cities and mayors have been employing it to the chagrin of characters such as Lasco and his kinds. Lasco therefore, had been trying to reinvent himself and his business, hence his many treks to Jamaica the land and birthplace of his not too distant relatives.

Lancelot Turner was a hitman from the narcotics underworld who was on his well-earned R&R vacation when he inadvertently ran into a fugitive from mob justice and everything changed. The road took him from Norfolk VA. to Montreal Quebec and back, with loads of actions in between. Some people just can't seem to get a break, can they? Here's a short Excerpt; Lester's smoked meat was all that it was talked up to be and more. Lance had heard much about that joint from several of his associates and cronies but had forgotten all about it when he was deciding on Montreal as a destination. However, upon scrolling through the search results for "restaurants and eateries" on his iPhone, there it was, the chance he had long waited to sample it for himself. The joint was jumping and the food was delicious, but the place was quickly getting a bit too crowded for him so he took out his wallet, pulled out two bills, and tucked them inside the leatherback folder alongside the bill.He then went into the washroom to freshen himself up and then promptly left.

Out of Sherwood Content, Jamaica comes great stories to you, and the world at large. Jamaican story worth telling, with a bit of patois thrown in here and there. Here is another such great story just for you. Set in the early eighties in small-town Jamaica, 76, Clancy's journey tells the story of a gifted Jamaican schoolboy who was well on his way through high school and heading straight into university. Young Clancy was fast becoming one of the country's topmost schoolboy football player, but then his idol: Bob Marley died, and Clancy's life took a drastic turn. Here's an excerpt.Mr. O'Connor's Range Rover had just pulled up into the driveway. "Waah gwaan sah?" Said Mr. O'Connor (which means, What's going on? In the queen's most noble language.) As he lighted out of the vehicle, he was to have asked again. "What have you been up to of late?" "Dad " Clancy replied as he met his father on the step just outside of the doorway. "I haven't seen you in a long time," he would have said further. As they shook hands and then shoulder bumped. Slapping each other on the back in the usual O'Conner father-son manner."So, you just quit school, picked yourself up and leave overnight, why?" "Long story - dad, but it's all good, moving on to bigger things." "Bigger things?" Mr. O'Connor shot back at him... "What bigger things are there than getting a good education? Which is what you gave up to go chasing after... God knows what." "I'm following my dreams - dad, and it's actually working just fine. Can we go inside?" Mr. O'Connor shook his head. "Kids nowadays," he said over his shoulder as he walked through the living room. Holding on to his briefcase loosely. The handle across the lower joints of his fingers. But the thumb, proud and rebellious. Hanged aloft refusing to even so much as touch the leathery contraption."...You all seem to think that you know everything."