THE RESURRECTION STONE

THE RESURRECTION STONE

A Journey of Awakening

 "Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us."

                                                            Marianne Williamson

The Book They Don't Want You To Read

It's not surprising that you have probably never heard of THE RESURRECTION STONE. That's because this breakthrough novel offers a radical philosophy of personal empowerment that threatens the foundations of every organized religion.

THE RESURRECTION STONE is the ribald adventure of young Jason Eric Stern as he encounters friendship, love, sex, violence, and death on his way to a powerful revelatory experience. The wide scope of THE RESURRECTION STONE defies categorization. It is part coming-of-age, part mystery, part erotica, part poetry, and part philosophy, with plenty of action, laughs, and surprises.

But THE RESURRECTION STONE is more than a great read. Its philosophy of personal empowerment holds the key to the door that has so far remained locked to humanity, the door within each one of us that, once opened, leads to peace and freedom. Don't be afraid to pick up the key.

And don't let others decide what you can read! Look over the excerpts from THE RESURRECTION STONE on this site and decide for yourself!

A Wild and Wonderful Story!
"The Resurrection Stone is exhilarating, filled with wonder, joy and the contradictions of life. It can't be adequately described, it must be experienced -- a cross between Henry Miller and J. D. Salinger."

Excerpts

The Man on the Beach

           The beach, empty save for an occasional jogger or dog walker, spread out like a golden blanket next to the blue ocean. The lifeguard towers, pulled back to the dunes the evening before to keep the incoming tide from claiming them overnight, lay on their sides like the bleached skeletons of ancient beasts. The water shooshed in and whooshed out with metronomic regularity, pumped by a vast heart somewhere far away, a heart that had first beat long before life on earth had begun.
            Jason headed north.
            He hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile when he saw a man with sunglasses and wearing a polo shirt and jeans sitting on a blanket and eating breakfast. As Jason approached, something odd happened.
            From over the sea came gulls, first one, then another, then more and more until they shrieked and cried everywhere around the man. They swept down like the terrors of a Hitchcock movie and stole his food, snatching it from right in front of him. The man lifted a thin white cane and began swatting at the birds.
            Jason couldn't believe the aggressiveness of the gulls. They usually didn't come within ten feet of people, but these swooped down right at the man himself, whose cane was proving ineffective against the predators. He could do nothing to save his food or to chase the gulls away as they flapped around him.
            Jason ran to the man, shouting and waving and slapping his beach towel at the air to frighten the birds. The scavengers screamed at him but then pulled away, flying to a safe distance from where they watched as Jason stood guard.
            "They were eating your food," Jason said, feeling he had to explain his sudden noisy appearance.
            "I know," said the man. "They always do. They somehow seem to know I can't see them, so they've learned to sneak up and steal scraps." His voice was rough and scratchy, and when he spoke he tilted his head in an odd fashion. Jason realized that the man was blind.
            "They weren't just sneaking up," said Jason. "They were coming by the dozens and grabbing things."
            "They've gotten bolder."
            The man cocked his head to listen.
            "Where are they?"
            "Around," said Jason. "Mostly about twenty feet back on the beach, watching us."
            "But not coming close?"
            "No."
            The man picked up a piece of melon. "Will you join me?"
            "Thanks. Not hungry." said Jason.
            "Please," said the man. "I insist. How else can I show my gratitude?"
            "All right," said Jason, taking a piece of the proffered melon. He bit into its tender sweetness.
            "It's at its peak," said the man.
            Jason ate hungrily, following the melon with a wedge of yellow cheese. The man laughed as he heard Jason wolf the food.
            "I guess you were hungry after all."
            "I guess so."
            "Maybe you just needed the right thing to get your appetite going."
            "Maybe."
            "Where do you live?" the man asked.
            "New York," said Jason. "Out here, I stay with my aunt on Gilbert."
            "I know where that is," said the man. He chewed another piece of melon and said nothing. Jason became uncomfortable and spoke to break the silence.
            "Where do you stay?"
            "I have a sister on Marine. I visit from time to time. I like it here. It's quiet."
            "Except for the gulls," said Jason.
            The man gave a short laugh. "Yes. The gulls."
            He continued eating and Jason watched the ocean. It swelled in and out, pushing gentle waves over the small shells and pebbles that had accumulated on the shore since the tide had ebbed, moving them, making them tinkle like tiny bells.
            "The water's calm," said the man, as if reading Jason's mind.
            "Yeah," said Jason.
            "Do much beach combing?"
            "I like to walk and look for things. Sea glass, shells, odd stones."
            "I used to do that," said the man. "Do you know about the Resurrection Stone?"
            "That's weird," Jason said, surprised. "My friend told me about it."
            "What did he say?"
            "That it's from Christ's tomb. That it looks like a human heart."
            "It has unspeakable power."
            "You mean, it's real?"
            "Oh, yes."
            "What does it do? Grant wishes?"
            The man laughed. "No. It works miracles."
            "I think it's a fairy tale."
            "Don't be so sure," said the man. "Strange things can happen. I bet you've been looking for it."
            "Not really."
            "They say it's here, on Cranberry Island."
            "Who says?"
            "You know," said the man. "They. The ones who always say."
            Jason fidgeted.
            "Maybe you should go for a walk," said the man. "Work off some of that energy."
            Jason stopped moving.
            "I'm not offended," said the man. He ate the last piece of his fruit. The gulls had been leaving one by one and now were all gone. "In fact, I'm going back to my house. Too much sun's no good for me."
            The man began gathering his belongings. Jason helped.
            "Good luck," the man said as he stood. "Hope you find it." His voice lowered. "I did. Once."
            "What do you mean?" Jason asked.
            "The day this happened." The man pointed to his eyes. His expression changed, as if he were trying to see something far away.
            "The beach at that place was a low granite shelf, covered with rocks of all kinds, a geologist's dream. I saw the stone by the edge of the water, mixed in with the rest but different. Very different.
            "It resembled a human heart, a living, beating heart, dark red, the water glistening on it like drops of blood. I stood there staring at it, watching the waves splash over it. I could have sworn the water turned red when it washed off the stone. I leaned closer, reached for it, but I didn't touch it. My hand shook and I couldn't."
            He paused. A few gulls fluttered in close, then flew off.
            "Then a wave came, a big one. Smashed me into the rocks, knocked me unconscious. When I came to, I was blind."
            "Blind?!"
            The man nodded. "Doctors haven't been able to figure out why." He chuckled. "But I know. Fear. Fear blinded me. Kept me from picking up the stone and blinded me."
            "Fear of what?"
            The man shrugged. "Power. Limitless power."
            "I think I'd like that."
            "Yes, you think so now. But when you can have it, it's different. Awesome. Unimaginable."
            "What happened to the stone?"
            "Washed out, I guess. So if you see it, boy, don't let your fear do what mine did to me. Reach for the miracle."
            Jason watched as the man walked off, then continued on his way north, looking at every stone, wondering if there was really something to look for after all.

Aunt Lee

            Jason sat in the living room while outside the August sun filled the afternoon with incessant, broiling heat. He wiped sweat from his forehead and double-clicked on the execute statement in his root directory.

            SCREW.EXE.

            The screen flickered as a man and woman began copulating in full color computer-controlled video, thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over, a collection of ones and zeros in an endless loop of pornographic recursion, moving against each other without pleasure, digital bodies shimmering, pulsing at 75Mz, soundlessly, endlessly fucking on the laptop's screen.

            Jason ogled the naked couple, who resembled himself and Aunt Lee, as they tirelessly pushed at each other. Then their images began to break up, lose their cohesiveness, dissolve into random pixels, and fade into the gray nothingness of a blank screen.

            Jason woke from his dream soaked in perspiration and hornier than he had been all week. The clock read 10:12 AM. There was a knock at the door and it opened.

            "Ma!"

            "Sorry, Jason. It's late. Don't you want to get up?"

            "I'm getting up, ma. I'm getting up."

            "It's a beautiful day."

            "Okay, ma. I'm up."

            "Aunt Lee's making pancakes."

            "Okay, ma."

            The door pulled shut and Jason got out of bed. He looked at Carol's house but there was no sign of her or anyone else.

            The day was as hot as it had been in Jason's dream. Hot with a stultifying intensity that drained energy and left everyone to languish. After breakfast, Jason took a spin on the Ross. The heat shortened his trip and by noon he was back in the house.

            Only his mother was home. She told him she was taking a water taxi over to the Colony to see a new shop Lee had told her about. Lee didn't feel like a long trip and was doing her own shopping at the Island Mart.

            When his mother left, Jason got out his laptop. He remembered his dream and wished he had porn diskettes. He had heard about them but had never seen one. Phil was no help. He was terrified of viruses in downloaded porn. "More scared of them than AIDS," he would say and then stupidly joke, "Can't put a condom on my Pentium."

            So Jason settled for the Love Connection. He hooked up to the telephone and signed on. He was just about to enter the Do It Nice room when he heard footsteps on the ramp. The door opened.

            "Hi, Jason."

            Aunt Lee.

            "Whatcha' doing?"

            "Noth-ing."

            "On a day like this, you'd rather play on the computer than be at the beach?"

            "Too hot," he said. Aunt Lee had on shorts and her usual tight halter. She carried a plastic shopping bag.

            "Storm's going to hit sometime tonight. That's what they're saying. This'll be the last good day. Your mom leave already?"

            "A little while ago."

            "I wanted her advice on something. Maybe you could help?"

            "With what?"

            "Wait."

            Aunt Lee went to her room and Jason signed off the Net. He couldn't imagine what his Aunt wanted. Help around the house? He grabbed a towel that had been hanging over his chair, rubbed his face. Hot.

            She called from her room. "Jason. Come here."

            Jason went. When he reached her door and saw his aunt, he stopped dead. She had on a new bikini, tight and revealing, black with jagged red stripes. She had put on lipstick, a deep red, and he could smell her strawberry perfume. She wore black high heels.

            "Like it?"

            Jason nodded, unable to speak.

            "Come here, come here, come in, come in." She beckoned him.

            He entered her room, not able to keep from staring at her breasts pushing against the bikini's taut material, her tanned body, her curved legs.

            "Sit down." She nodded toward the edge of the bed.

            Jason sat.

            "Now, what do you think?" She put her hands on her hips. Posed.

            "About wh-at?"

            She laughed. "The bathing suit, of course. What do you think?" She turned her back to him, letting her high heels click on the floor, heels that accented her firm calf muscles like the girls in Jason's magazines. She caressed her buttocks with her hands to smooth the material.

            "Not too snug? Doesn't show too much?" She bent over to display her ass and patted it. "Here?" Turned to face him. Cupped her breasts in her hands. "Or here?"

            Jason's body tingled. His face flushed. He stammered.

            "I...I don't kn-ow."

            "What do you mean, you don't know? You're a man, Jason. Men know. Want me to show you something?"

            Jason shrugged. Aunt Lee reached behind her, undid her bikini top and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts shone like brushed bronze in the quiet room, holding Jason's gaze like the light of God. Jason's throat closed. He stopped breathing.

            "What do you think?"

Cranberry Island

            Cranberry Island was a six-mile long barrier reef named for the abundance of cranberries that grew in the bogs at its marshy northern end. South of the cranberries lay the community called Cranberry Island, home for some 250 houses used by vacationers, summer residents, and a few hardy year-round inhabitants.

            The little community occupied an area about three-quarters of a mile wide by one and a half miles long. Immediately to its south was a narrow sandy two-mile strip upon which nothing could be built and which simply provided beach area for those who liked to sunbathe by themselves or in the nude. South of this section the island widened again, enough for an aggressive real-estate entrepreneur to ignore environmental considerations, such as the effects of erosion and the natural migration of barrier reefs, and construct The Colony, a 100-room resort condominium time-shared by 2,180 residents from mid-April through mid-October and reached only by private ferry.

            Cranberry Island, being near Annapolis and the Naval Academy, had always been a favorite of Navy personnel. After World War II, it became popular among returning veterans of the Pacific Theater. Houses went up quickly and the boardwalks that connected them were named for victories over the Japanese and for branches of the Armed Forces.

            From the northern end, the boardwalks were called Marshall, Gilbert, Marine, Navy, Sailor, and Coral. All but Sailor crossed from east to west, connecting Midway to Bay Walk. Sailor ran from Midway only to the beach. Aunt Lee lived on Gilbert. Jason thought the naming was much too chauvinistic, but had decided it did not detract from the island's appeal.

Ordering Information

The Resurrection Stone by Frank Hertle Category: Fiction ISBN: 0-595-20808-8 Format: Trade Paperback Pages: 292 Price : $15.95 Publication Date: December, 2001 Size: 6 x 9

Available From: Barnes and Noble Bookstores as well as from barnesandnoble.com, amazon.com, borders.com

NOTICE: Portions of THE RESURRECTION STONE are not suitable for those under 18.

Copyright© 2001 Frank Hertle