Charles E. Bullock
Nightwalker is the epic tale of Kukele and Awndu, lovers separated by treachery, deception, witchcraft, slavery and time. Kukele, a fearsome warrior cursed by a jealous sorceress with an unquenchable bloodlust, embarks on an endless search for his bride; Awndu, a revolutionary priestess whose bloodline ends in the 20th Century personage of Mawndi, the beautiful, virgin High Priestess of the J’wewe clan in modern-day Atlanta, GA.
Kukele must convince Mawndi of his un-dying love, remind her of her legacy and lure her away from an obsessed suitor in order to find peace at last.
Nightwalker is a gripping story of the undeniable power of love. Love that has no limit, that is not bound by time, place or space. It is a testimony that there is nothing that love cannot endure. There is no limit to its faith. It hopes all things and endures all things. Everlasting. Eternal.
Love never dies…
Charles E. Bullock, hails from Phoenix, AZ where he began his study of Musical Theatre at the Helen K. Mason Performing Arts Institute / Black Theatre Troup Inc.
His studies brought him to Atlanta where he completed a B.A. in Studio Arts at Morehouse College and worked extensively with such companies as The Youth Ensemble of Atlanta Inc., Jomandi Productions, Theatrical Outfit, Alliance Theatre, Atlanta Dance Theatre Inc., Several Dancers Core and others. He is lyricist / co-director for Atlanta recording artists Voice of Atlanta and was a featured vocalist on their debut CD Are You Listening? He is currently developing material for their sophomore project as well as serving as co-lyrist for recording artists Collective Voice.
Nightwalker is Charles’ first endeavor as a literary author and is currently developing several other manuscripts as well as a book of poetry and illustration entitled ‘Rite of Spring’.
“Who’s there?!” She whispered in a quiet hush, still looking about frantically. “I… I can’t see ya. Come on out here….”
“I’m here….Awndu.”
The sound of that voice. It soothed her in a way that she knew was not of her world….She tried to focus on the terrain around her but it was rapidly filling with a mist that was strange to her. All her life she had grown up in this part of Alabama, and had never seen a mist or fog accumulate like it was now; like a magician’s trick. A thick white cloud seemed to surround her.
Joylynn’s eye’s focused on a shape moving in the mist. It consolidated and became the shape of a man. A tall man. Joylynn’s eyes widened. He was a muscular, bald, black stallion of a man. He was dressed like a gentle man; like a white man. Joylynn thought he must be a butler. Her eyes raked his lean body and came to rest on his face. His skin glowed in the moonlight. His head was well-shaped, strong jaw, manicured mustache and goatee, thick full lips, proud nostriled nose and piercing hawk like eyes. Joylynn had never seen eyes like that before. She felt herself swooning as he reached out and scooped her effortlessly into his arms. Before blackness took her she looked into his handsome face. His eyes burned into hers then he pressed his cheek next to hers. His skin was temped like the air around them. She exhaled and passed out as he said,
“You are safe now Awndu.”
She did not hear him say it, yet she sighed and released herself to blackness in peace.
He gazed down at her. Silently.
“Remember me?…of course not…you will…for eternity, my love.”
