Novels & Short Stories
The Bayview Chronicles: The Great GoKart Race of 68
It is likely that many of you who have blessed me by making the kind decision to read or listen to this short story is not familiar with the Little Rascals or Our Gang, and to me that is sad. The “Little Rascals” and “Our Gang” comedy short films had a significant influence on my young life. If any of you would like to start your day with a smile, I am fairly certain that the Gang is alive and well in cyberspace.
Much of my day was patterned after Spanky and the gang. Most mornings, my day would start with a bowl of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes or oatmeal while I sat squatting in front of the television before school, watching the antics of “Our Gang.”
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The Rifle: By Pastor Regina Green
“The Rifle” is a true story about just one of the exploits that Regina describes as one of the coolest men known to man, which would be Robert Green, her father. As she describes him, her dad was an undisputed gift from God; take from that what you will.
Regina was not yet in her teens when this adventure unfolded and always maintained a vivid memory of the day you 23 are about to share in. Regina often brought the story to life as she regaled others with the exploits of her tremendous father and his loyal comrades.
The chain of events that took place on this day clearly speaks about this band of friends, as men and their deep belief in respect, honor, dignity, and accountability. To have located the story as she wrote it is a godsend and the beauty of being able to join paper and pen. We at G-Square Publishing hope you enjoy “The Rifle” as a gift from the Reverend Regina Gale Green.
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Memories of Ground Zero, From There to Here, Making Each Day Count
Memories of Ground Zero will take you through the author's experiences from the initial strike at the World Trade Center by the first plane, through the collapse of the towers, the rescue and recovery effort and his struggles to work with his brave comrades in working to provide necessary resources and security in and around Ground Zero.
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A View From My Bay- Short Stories That Moved Me From Day To Day
Wow, I think you will enjoy this final edition of "A View From My Bay.” If you enjoy short stories over poetry, then "A View From My Bay-Short Stories that moved me from Day to Day" is for you to take some time to read, or better yet, listen to.
I am sure that some of my experiences will spark flashbacks for some, hopefully with a smile. This edition is in response to readers who prefer short stories and have asked G-Square to produce the book "A View From My Bay" into a short story format. At G-Square, all you need do is ask, and if we have the ability, your wish is our command. Please enjoy. Heck: if not, we will try it again.
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A View From My Bay
G-Square Publishing is honored to release this thoughtful work from Vinny Green, the life-long corruption fighter, former Deputy Commissioner of the New York City Department of Investigation, and Chief Executive Officer for G-Square Publishing.
In stark contrast to his previous award-winning literary works, the decorated corruption fighter finds his voice in this undertaking through his personal prose, poignant poetry, and self-reflective short stories'. Vinny’s life has been devoted to the demise of corruption. This work delves into Vinny’s formative years growing up in the Bayview Houses of Canarsie, Brooklyn, which offered a well-stocked feeding trough in hardy and difficult-to-swallow life-shaping meals in the nurturing and maturing of a corruption fighter.
Over the last four decades, Vinny has mastered the skill and art of corruption fighting and deployed those skills throughout the City of New York and, when called upon, beyond the borders of the United States into the streets and training rooms of developing nations elsewhere.
Green speaks about love, life, loss, illness, injury, tragedy, triumph, family, and terrorism in his View From My Bay.
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Borders and Boundaries - The Bayview Chronicles Book 2
My Clothes, My Rules. Growing up, and to my shame, even today, well beyond fifty years of age, I have to admit that my clothes have always had a tough time being owned by me. Mom always took the position that I treated my clothes as if I worked in a Salt Mine. As a child, that did not inspire me to do any better. It inspired me to create a game where we kids were working in a mine. Mom would always chastise me for coming home with tears and holes in my jeans after a hard day at play. I played hard; I earned those holes and the scrapes, bumps, and bruises that came with them. I still have a few visible scars to this day. When mom finished explaining the value of a dollar, which always went right over my head, she simply went to dad, and they bought me more clothes.
Me, I although, what is the problem?
The “Five and Dime” store across the street sold Levi’s for five dollars a pair, and they had my size never thought much about dollars. For me, Quarters, Nickels, and dimes were my concern. I remember being extremely upset when the price of a slice of pizza went up to seventy-five cents; that was just ridiculous. Seventy-five cents was my entire allowance. What was I supposed to drink? Mom always said, water.
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Nikki Armstrong Measure of a Woman-Scholastic Achievement
Upon graduation from high school, Nikki was awarded a full four-year scholarship to a prestigious university in New England. Her initial response was to decline the offer. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of being so far away from family and friends.
After visiting the school, she was left with an uneasy feeling. She found the staff and students to be very stuffy and full of themselves. Honestly, she felt once they got past Nikki on paper, they would never be accepting of the no-nonsense Nikki from the Bronx.
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Nikki Armstrong Handle with Care
Today, BB needed to push it aside and get ready for a new day, with a new addition to the CARE ensemble. A new piece of the CARE package which BB unflinchingly believed could take his vision to a new level, which was the joining of Nikki Evelyn Armstrong to the crew.
BB knew precisely how Nikki felt when she decided to toss her badge and end an important stage of her life’s calling. It was ten years ago to the day, in which BB too had a Nikki experience, depositing his gun and badge into the East River. With the jettisoning of that weight, BB came to the realization one man could make a difference and that man would be him, Butch B. Brennan, BB to his close friends. For the record, few called him triple-B.
Nikki came through the doors at CARE (Corporate Alliance to Restore Equality) intent on making a difference; intent on meeting all challenges, intent on continuing to pursue her life’s calling.
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Forged In Fire
Kashim Shettima the state Governor of Borno emerged from a meeting, and made the following statement to journalists at the presidential villa after a meeting with President Jonathan:
“Boko Haram are better armed and are better motivated than our own troops. Given the present state of affairs, it is absolutely impossible for us to defeat Boko Haram."
Of course, this did not include the day that Boko Haram met Ensign Nikki Evelyn Armstrong.
On the morning of April 15, 2014, the world woke up to the news of 276 schoolgirls were kidnapped by Boko Haram. What most of the world did not know was that this was not the first of such acts by the growing terrorist organization.
Some years earlier, the group, stormed a small village in Nigeria and had taken a group of Peace Corps and United Nations workers hostage. Mikaela Armstrong, Nikki’s older sister, was amongst that group. It was not an act highly publicized, then or now.
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Does Race Negate
In what way does race negate my place in life?
Is there a pecking order that suggests the race is determined by my linear place instead of a sphere with no beginning and end, screaming that you are no better than me?
All you need do is open your eyes to the truth.
In what way does race negate the beauty of my face?
The softness of my touch?
The sincerity of my heart?
Does the darkness of my skin reflect an evil within that in some way highlights this body as a unique bearer of sin?
In what way does race negate that I am a child of God, no matter who I fall to on bended knee?
In what way does race negate the beauty of my mind?
The goodness of my heart?
The tranquility of my soul?
Is it simply a hue that will determine the binding of me and you?
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