Francis Fleet
Action Adventure Novelist
Novels
The Angels of St.Canty's
Near the end of the 12th Century, the Pope called on all Christendom to take up the Cross to free the Holy Land once more. A small band of men from Krakow on the Vistula River moved south to join this crusade. When they left Poland none had designs on grand adventures. Their purpose was clear and the road well mapped. What awaited them, was something altogether different. Were they ready for the changing route, challenges and threats that faced them?
Esmeralda Of The Islands
Book two of The Angels of St.Canty's.
​The holy man they took to their hearts advised all to keep faith. Perhaps his wisdom might have sounded like a sermon. “In that place where there is uncertainty, you must trust the Lord has a plan for you.” It was not Sunday, so one rider or another might have stopped listening. The Monk forgave them for it and continued anyway. “When you are lost, that is the time you need your faith. For it is at these times, our faith and character are tested.”
NFLD SPEED WAGON: My Life on the CN Roadcruiser
Memory is a strange thing. Best described as bites. They can be sweet or bitter. Invoke emotions persistent and strong. Bring back others you thought lost or suppressed. Here we have bites presented as short stories from Central Newfoundland to St. John’s (always called Town) and broader from 1968 to 1986.
Memory is a strange thing. Best described as bites. They can be sweet or bitter. Invoke emotions persistent and strong. Bring back others you thought lost or suppressed. Here we have bites presented as short stories from Central Newfoundland to St. John’s (always called Town) and broader from 1968 to 1986.
A quiet place of reflection and creativity. A writer who is thoughtful and organized. It is a dream. I hope you appreciate the staging; it is a complete fabrication. Not pictured is the pile of papers with scrawls and sufficient highlights to cause seizures. Three Starbucks cups stacked one inside another, the NFL schedule, and my daughter’s cat, who insists on perching atop whatever I happen to be working on to groom herself, with a glare of judgement.
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