The Man Who Lived Too Much

Shand Stringham

Description

An intense portrayal of a man who has lived over 900 years… a narrative that may cause readers to reevaluate their own desire to live forever.
History is a slippery thing. While it pretends to provide a somewhat clear picture of past events, the veracity of written and oral histories is suspect as not being entirely complete nor true and faithful in reporting what actually transpired in the past. The reality of the phrase, “History is written by the victor,” frequently skews what ends up being recorded.
Thus, although it has exceptional, rare shining moments, what passes for history throughout the ages is more or less an artificial exposition on warfare, human bloodshed and savagery written by those who survived to tell their version of what happened.
This book is a novel of science fiction and fantasy overlaid on the rich tapestry of an historical reality. It examines the fragility and duplicitous nature of what passes for history today. It suggests a unique remedy for laying bare the elusiveness of truth provided by a group of unbiased, immortal Watchers, who observe and record the unvarnished and undistorted doings of mankind throughout the ages with all its warts, thorns, and imperfections.
The words of the venerable old church hymn provide a context for the narrative presented here: “Angels above us are silent notes taking, of ev’ry action; then do what is right.”

Sujets

• Historical Fiction
• Historical
• The End of Days
• Science Fantasy
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 09 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663253057
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE MAN WHO LIVED TOO MUCH

A Wondrous Tale of the End of Days





SHAND STRINGHAM






THE MAN WHOLIVED TOO MUCH
A WONDROUS TALE OF THE END OF DAYS

Copyright © 2023 Shand Stringham.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.




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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6632-5304-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5306-4 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-5305-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023908456




iUniverse rev. date: 05/09/2023



CONTENTS
In Appreciation
Author’s Note

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11



IN APPRECIATION
I had the assistance and technical support of several people in the preparation of this novel manuscript whom I want to acknowledge and thank: Janine Weyers, Karen Westergard Gill, Linda Gareh-Applegate, Shellie Stringham Harris, Don and Nancy Schoeps, and Carson Briant Stringham. I am also grateful for Casey Stringham’s professional efforts in doing the photography work for the book cover, and Keith Eisenstein who served as the model for the cover illustration.
As always, I express my continuing gratitude to my wife, Quin, who spent many hours discussing with me various ideas, concepts, and insights that emerged in the writing of the manuscript. Her additional editing has been of inestimable value. Thank you for your loving support and understanding.
Shand Stringham
Carlisle Pennsylvania
April 2023



AUTHOR’S NOTE
History is a slippery thing. While it may attempt to provide a somewhat clear picture of past events, the veracity of written and oral histories is simply suspect for being incomplete and not particularly faithful and true in reporting what actually transpired in the past.
Henry Ford is famously quoted and misquoted as saying, “History is more or less bunk,” and “All history is a myth.” There is a plethora of Henry Ford sayings on the matter precisely because he said it so many times and in so many different ways. In a similar vein, Georg Hegel sarcastically remarked, “The only thing that we learn from history is that we learn nothing from history.”
“History is written by the victor,” was not originally said by Churchill as many observers suppose. It was an oft-repeated assertion a full hundred years prior to Churchill’s day throughout the nineteenth century. However, Churchill is actually quoted as saying something to that effect in a 1948 speech before the House of Commons following the end of World War II: “For my part, I consider that it will be found much better by all parties to leave the past to history, especially as I propose to write that history myself.”
Although it has its rare shining moments, what passes for history throughout the ages is more or less an artificial exposition on warfare, human bloodshed, and savagery written by those who survived to tell their version of what happened. If we were truly able to learn the lessons of history, we ought to pursue strategies to avoid warfare altogether. Unfortunately, we haven’t learned those lessons very well. Santayana is quoted as fatalistically asserting, “Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
Modern information technologies that have emerged in the past half century provide the means of moving information around the globe almost instantaneously and storing vast amounts of historical information in huge data server farms that we euphemistically refer to as the “cloud.” This extraordinary computational power and storage capacity offered the promise of great transparency in recording history factually as it occurs. Unfortunately, these new technologies have resulted in quite the opposite effect. A significant portion of mankind today leverages our newfound informational power to underwrite biased personal and national agendas to distort and obfuscate history before the ink has even dried on the printed page. And that, perhaps, may be at the root of the problem. We no long rely quite like we have in the past on published histories. Instead, today many have turned from books and other printed matter to digitally-generated histories. These can be changed to suit the author with the push of the delete key. History is no longer stabilized with printers’ ink. It is as ephemeral as the whims of those folks who pretend to document and communicate the “news.”
This book is a novel of science fiction and fantasy overlaid on the rich tapestry of an historical reality insofar as I have been able to research and fairly capture it. It exposes the fragility and duplicitous nature of what passes for history today and suggests a practical remedy for the elusiveness of truth provided by a group of unbiased, immortal Watchers who simply observe and record the unvarnished and undistorted doings of mankind throughout the ages with all its warts, thorns, and imperfections. The words of the venerable old church hymn provide a vision for the context of the narrative presented here: “Angels above us are silent notes taking, of ev’ry action; then do what is right.” The Watchers’ observations will one day become a treasured portion of the Book of Life, and what passes for history today will fall by the wayside as weak gruel.
There is a second problematic issue associated with history today. I often wonder how future generations of historians will one day record and interpret the doings of our present generation as so many folks work unceasingly to erase much of the history that has passed before them that they now find unpalatable today. I suspect that ultimately, this generation will be judged unfavorably for trying… and found wanting.



CHAPTER 1
T he old man hobbled down the sidewalk next to the stone wall in front of the Dickinson College campus. He paced back and forth as he observed the pedestrian traffic, mostly students hurrying along to get to class on time. He leaned on his cane for support as he turned his head from side to side, scanning the faces of the people passing by. He finally paused and leaned against a short stretch of the stone wall next to the arched entryway into the college quadrangle. The sun beat down upon him and, in spite of a slight chill in the early spring air, he unbuttoned his jacket and draped it over his arm, turning his attention to watch the afternoon traffic rush by on the street in front of him.
Carlisle was normally a quiet, almost sleepy little town on most days, but today, there was a ten-car pile-up out on a stretch of the nearby Interstate that encircled the town. The state police had closed all Interstate traffic lanes and redirected highway traffic down High Street right through the center of the historic downtown district.
An endless procession of 18-wheeler, semi-tractor rigs passed by in both directions. The big trucks made a terrific din and filled the downtown air with thick, acrid, diesel fumes. It was slow-going as the traffic semaphore system wasn’t particularly responsive to the emergency traffic situation. Many of the truckers had their windows rolled down and were shouting expletives at anyone they thought might be slowing down their progress in traffic through the little hamlet.
The old man stood leaning against the stone archway for almost half an hour, watching the gridlock traffic pass by and noting the bad humor displayed by so many of the big rig drivers. As he witnessed the distasteful behavior on the part of so many, he brought his hand up to his face and stroked his white beard in a gesture of disapprobation.
He was suddenly distracted by the sound of a disturbance behind him in the campus quadrangle on the other side of the stone wall. A young child was having a meltdown and an exasperated mother was having a shouting match with the little one. The old man listened sadly, without turning his head. Suddenly, there was the unmistakable sound of a loud slap as the woman apparently ran out of patience.
The surprised child broke down crying in loud sobs that finally subsided in quiet, almost inaudible, whispered tears. The old man shook his head in disappointment. Turning to focus his view on the woman and her child, he was mildly surprised to see how young the mother appeared to be… perhaps too young to have already started a family.
The old man resisted saying anything or otherwise intervening in the conflict. He quietly stared at the two for a few minutes, carefully recording in his mind the details of the scene that had just trans