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Name: Julie A Carda

After studying dance in Europe, Julie returned to the United States and graduated from Creighton University. With a desire to expand her knowledge of the arts and spirituality, she graduated from St. John’s University in Collegeville with a Masters in Theology and Liturgical Studies. Over the past twenty years, she has taught high school and college courses, and facilitated workshops on the healing arts while occasionally writing for academic periodicals. Her quest to acknowledge world religions and the desire to expose the similarities of love and peaceful living, led her to travel, live, and study with shaman practitioners, herbal healers, Native American medicine women, Buddhist priests and other earth-based spiritual teachers. Through these experiences and experiences with global metaphysical teachings, she learned to honor the eternal Source of love in all people. Besides writing fiction, Julie is co-creating a Space of Love through advocacy for Kin Domains.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Portal to Peace Excerpt Part I


Pre-dawn light blanketed the horizon when Lars spotted his Land Rover. Fatigued and blurry-eyed, he rested before continuing the last two hundred yards. The lone sheep had paralleled his descent down the mountain, keeping him company through the night. He watched while the injured animal succumbed to exhaustion. Determined to finish the crawl before resting, he pulled forward. Beneath him, the ground vibrated. He heard the high-pitched whine of an approaching vehicle.

How to get to the car before someone spotted him in his current condition? Without a passport, sporting military tags, and carrying a wealth of classified information presented untold problems. The door locks would not deter someone from gaining admittance and removing electronics.

After several yards, Lars inhaled sharply and gauged the distance. No way could he close the gap before the unidentified visitor arrived. He rolled behind a boulder. A battered jeep pulled up behind the Land Rover. Who would be out driving this rough terrain? Maybe the owner of a lost sheep?

Given the distance, dim light, and his position, he couldn’t make out the driver. He glanced down. His sweat-drenched skin, coated in brown dirt and his black clothing, created perfect camouflage. With head low and body tucked, he waited.

The vehicle stopped. The sun crested the horizon. Waves of apprehension and wariness surrounded him. The door on the vehicle slammed. (Click to get the download.)

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