When twenty-six-year-old Eve McCormick awakes, the images from her nightmare are indelible. The dream feels so real she must force herself to get a grip. This experience is just the beginning for Eve, a Los Angeles clinical hypnotherapist and researcher investigating whether reincarnation is fact or fiction.
Unstoppable visions of an ancient lifetime steal days from her. The danger escalates when she wakes up physically injured and marked with a strange symbol. While Eve battles the past to maintain her sanity and safety, her project is jeopardized as another researcher’s attempts to take over. One partner dies and another is accused of inappropriate conduct. Eve and her friend, Dr. Andrea McMurray, don’t believe in coincidence and probe their shared visions for answers.
On the other side of the Atlantic, Welshman Ryerson Sanders is haunted by his dreams and believes Eve’s research project can help him. For both of them, an ancient Celtic prophecy and long-sought revenge entangles the past with the present. A druidess and a shape-shifter must join to save the druid way of life, while a queen conspires to kill Erin’s only high king. Will the oaths and agendas of the past reach across the centuries to strengthen or to destroy?
Even the greatest catastrophes bring new opportunities for life. — Brother Ramirez, Cathuran monk, from The Dawning of Power, by Brian Rathbone. http://www.brianrathbone.com
.: Random Poem :.
Puttin' The Baby Away (Paul Laurence Dunbar)
EIGHT of 'em hyeah all tol' an' yet
Dese eyes o' mine is wringin' wet;
My haht's a-achin' ha'd an' so',
De way hit nevah ached befo';
My soul's a-pleadin', "Lawd give back
Dis little lonesome baby black,
Dis one, dis las' po' he'pless one
Whose little race was too soon run."
Po' Little Jim, des fo' yeahs' ol'
A-layin' down so still an' col'.
Somehow hit don' seem ha'dly faih,
To have my baby lyin' daih
Wi'dout a smile upon his face,
Wi'dout a look erbout de place;
He ust to be so full o' fun
Hit don' seem right dat all's done, done.
Des eight in all but I don' caih,
Dey wa'nt a single one to spaih;
De worl' was big, so was my haht,
An' dis hyeah baby owned hit's paht;
De house was po', dey clothes was rough,
But daih was meat an' meal enough;
An' daih was room fu' little Jim;
Oh! Lawd, what made you call fu' him?
It do seem monst'ous ha'd to-day,
To lay dis baby boy away;
I'd learned to love his teasin' smile,
He mought o' des been lef' erwhile;
You wouldn't t'ought wid all de folks,
Dat's roun' hyeah mixin' teahs an' jokes,
De Lawd u'd had de time to see
Dis chile an' tek him 'way f'om me.
But let it go, I reckon Jim,
'll des go right straight up to Him
Dat took him f'om his mammy's nest
An' lef' dis achin' in my breas',
An' lookin' in dat fathah's face
An' 'memberin' dis lone sorrerin' place,
He'll say, "Good Lawd, you ought to had
Do sumpin' fu' to comfo't dad!"
Celtic Myth Podshow
Love what you did with the art Mark.
Nicely done. The visuals add to the audio,,, and the audio stands by itself…Yes I believe that this is good.
Looking great! There’s so much I like about this trailer.
I’ve contacted Rhonda and told her what I think. So amazing what you can do, Mark.
Heather