In The Land Of Cane

About the Book

.....Two dissimilar yet equally affected storms brewed upon the land, one in the minds of men and the other in the soul of the sky. Both hellacious and damning, they came together not by accident, but by the mood of the moon, which was waxing full and incandescent. The storm of the sky had been building on the horizon for hours, but only when the storm of men congealed did it fully manifests itself and demonstrate its powers. The storms began with the appearance of low-hanging clouds, and the wind swirling, uplifting the leaves of trees, causing small animals of the fields to seek shelter in hovels. The land was quiet, except for the stalks of cane, which rustled in the wind, murmuring a dialog of inextricable nature. Yet everyone who passed along the field that evening understood the intention of the storm, and too the moon, which appeared in gaps between turbulent clouds, giving evidence to a dreadful transit that had come to the land.....

About the Author

M.D. Shannon is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin in the Performance of Literature, and he attended the Graduate School of Texas A&M International in Language and Literature. Although he has written fiction, poetry, and screenplays for more than two decades, his work is largely unrecognized. This self-published collection of his work is comprised of seven manuscripts, including a novel, five short stories, and a group of early poems. Having recently recovered from a life-threantening illness, he now writes fiction and non fiction. He lives alone in the upper Gulf Coast region of Texas. “In the Land Of Cane” is a fictional novel that parallels true events that occurred following The Civil War when Afro-Americans were unjustly imprisoned and forced to labor in ore mines and remote sugarcane fields. Douglas Blackmon’s 2008 Pulitzer-Prize winning book in non fiction details this little-known era of "neo-slavery" that continued into the 1930's. Published by Random House, the book is titled "Slavery By Any Other Name. " .....Wilkie came to the tiny town of Jefferson. Sauntering passed the sheriff’s office, he bid good-day to a group of old red-necks who sat on the porch smoking cigars and drinking liquor. Entering the town’s general store, he stepped up to the counter and set down a pair of shiny nickels. “Corn meal and sugar,” he said to Elmer Smithy, the store’s owner, and the town’s volunteer deputy. Elmer weighed out the appropriate amounts on a tin scale. Bagging up the sugar and the meal, he handed two small sacks to Wilkie who then slipped the sacks inside his shirt. Elmer noticed that Wilkie’s shirt bulged open, and other items were inside it. “What else you got inside that shirt, boy?” he asked. Wilkie delightfully reached inside his shirt and lifted out a peach for Elmer to see. “They’s peaches,” he replied. “Sweet, ripe Georgia peaches.” “Where’d you get ‘em, boy?” “I picks ‘em up on the orchard road. Harvest season come early this year. Peaches layin’ here and there. No sense in lettin’ crows have ‘em.” Elmer cocked an eye and rubbed a stubble of beard on his chin. “You been thievin’ from the McCall Orchard, ain’t ya boy? Your mama teach you no better?” “No sir, I been thievin’ nothin’. Like I says, peaches everywhere on the road.” Elmer stepped around the counter and spoke to Wilkie with an air of authority. “Come along, boy. We’ll see what the sheriff wants to do about this.” Wilkie shrugged his shoulders, and he walked languidly toward the sheriff’s office, Elmer following closely behind.....