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It all begins with a single word, a sentence, a phrase put on paper.

Humans’ love affair with literature began over 100,000 years ago when Homo sapiens needed to exchange words and ideas. From cave paintings to the bible, first our early ancestors, then modern man, have been putting our knowledge and our understanding of the world on record. Man has always sought to share his knowledge with others, and through the ages, that knowledge would be extracted, absorbed and passed on to others.

From Shakespeare and Hemmingway to Tolkien and Rowling, writers have used their imaginations and sparked generations of writers to unravel their thoughts and create a vast number of tales to be told. Readers applaud them for their creativity and asked for more. Books are sold by the many and enjoyed by millions. Literature makes us laugh, cry, fear and express, all emotions brought on by the unforgettable tales told by the author.

Yet by now wouldn’t one imagine all that could be said has been? Is there a purpose for us to continue to weave and create such tales? Novels can consist of over 100,000 words. The journey to complete one novel can span many months, even years. To devote such time to a single book requires true passion and true commitment.

One thing is certain: writers write because we enjoy the process and want to share our stories with the rest of the world; an endless quest to share our tales that all began thousands of years ago.


Richard A. Ericson






Any reader seeking thrilling adventure, unique characters, and fantastical settings should know the Seaton name. Richard A. Ericson’s latest book is an unforgettable tale that will exceed everyone’s expectations. One of the greatest sequels in the fantasy/horror genre of all time, Dark Lord’s Fury, Worthington’s second instalment of the Dark Passage Chronicles series, is a delight, makes you think, thrills and excites. It’s also compact at under 300 pages, delivering all the page-turning story in an economical format.

In Alamptria, good must temper the looming threat of evil for survival. The dark forces have awakened and returned to torment the people of Elysium, Koriston and the other cities of Alamptria. Fortunately the vim of Petoshine and its great wizard Grongone stand strong against the rising evil. To help conquer the dark forces, Grongone bestows three claymores of astonishing power upon the Seaton brothers who as knight masters set about defending the people of Elysium and Alamptria’s other great cities. Though the Seatons are only human, with each successive attack, their power grows, feeding off the energy of the vim of Petoshine.

For over a thousand years, Makoor and his undead minions have laid dormant, waiting for the opportunity to strike. They feared Grongone’s great power. Yet over time, the dark forces regrouped, gaining power exponentially as their forces grew. With every passing day, the dark lord Makoor and his undead plotted the day when they would unleash their torment and persecute the humans of Alamptria to take ultimate control over the land, and to feed on the blood of the people and make them accept Makoor as their master.

When the innocent meet the brutality and horror of the dark forces, they find the heroism of the unstoppable Seatons a beacon of light. Driven by strength, intelligence and brotherhood, the Seaton brothers stand tall to fight against the undead to ensure peace and harmony remain in Alamptria........... READ MORE


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What kind of experience has writing Dead Path Chronicles been for you?


R.E.: Writing the Dead Path Chronicles has been gratifying in many ways. It’s my first novel, and having spent seven years writing it, I realize that with a lot of hard work and determination I can achieve whatever I set out to accomplish. In the beginning, I just had few vague thoughts. But as time went on, a story grew out of them. Months turned into years, and I found myself not just telling a simple story but creating an epic with numerous complicated story lines, something of cinematic scope proportion, that would thrust readers into an all-encompassing fantasy/horror world. Having the opportunity to create a world peopled with dynamic characters that come into conflict with one another and ultimately cause this world to erupt into chaos has been a great privilege for me. I enjoy having that sort of control, as if I get the chance to play God for a moment and decide others’ destinies. All in all, the whole experience has been a giant roller coaster ride, and it has been a lot of fun... READ MORE










Richard A. Ericson releases chapters and excerpts from his books...


RELEASED CHAPTER >>> Cold Hearted and Driven

The city of Jethro was sodden and heavy from the slushy rain that fell thickly over the streets. It was warm for a winter’s day, and the cobblestone shone from the wet. Upon nightfall, the citizens slowly made their way into their homes and bunkered themselves in for the dark. Night in Jethro was a fearsome time, and the people who lived here were scarred by their memories.

In a suite of a small apartment building, Cynthia Davenport was grieving for the loss of her brother, her best friend. It was one year ago on this night that the dreaded vampire had taken her brother’s life. For Cynthia it was a year of pain and desperation; she ached to find a way to destroy the entire vampire cult that continually persecuted their great land of Alamptria. The people of the kingdom had to spend their time and precious limited resources to defend their homes from these wretched creatures of the underworld who flew by night out from Mount Drone, which stood at the base of Plaphorius, and flooded the skies, turning them black. It was the Dark Lord Makoor who was hell bent on using his minions to destroy all of humankind, and he would not rest until all of the mortals of Alamptria were too part of his leagues of undead.

There were many who chose to fight back against the scourge; the brave knights in the cities of Elysium and Koriston had joined forces in order to eradicate their land of these horrid creatures.

Cynthia sipped a glass of red wine and let her tears fall as she thought about her brother. She was a beautiful woman who worked under cover, but her current investigation looked like it had come to a dead end. She downed the last of her wine and checked her watch again. Her friend and contact Henry Hudson had said he’d be by to see her nearly four hours ago, and it was entirely unlike him to be so unpredictable. She felt in her bones that something was wrong, but she tried not to worry and poured another glass of wine to take her mind off of her fears. She wasn’t losing hope just yet. “Come on, Henry,” she muttered.

In another hour, she was feeling thick in the head and Henry had still not arrived. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the rain started up again. Cynthia lay down on the couch and dozed off fitfully. Not long later, thunder clapped and lightning sizzled as if the storm had leapt up with a vehemence, and she jumped. This, she knew, was the bewitching hour... READ MORE





After claiming two horses at the stables, Caprius and Calista rode over the dirt and snow-covered trails out of the city of Galdington and all the way to the village of Jethro. Keeping his distance was Vernon Goncoul also on horseback. Vernon was furious over the death of his brother and felt not only stricken with guilt for not having been there to prevent it but blind with anger. He wanted the solace claymore and to see both Caprius and Calista dead. But he knew he couldn’t be hasty and had to bide his time, remain in the shadows until he could give them their due.

The early morning was thick with fog that was so dense, it was difficult to see more than a meter or so in front of the horses. Caprius and Calista went down a small hill and below they were able to make out the barest outlines of buildings in the village of Jethro. They continued on unaware of Vernon standing on the hilltop behind them obscured by the mist swirling around him and his steed. He made a dark silhouette against the gloomy background.

Calista and Caprius made their way through the gravel-covered main road and looked in the shops as they passed. It was a quaint town but the people seemed to be deeply affected by the fog as they were listless, no one speaking to anyone else. Caprius stopped one man, “I say, my good sir, can you tell me where the local pub is?” The man looked slowly at Caprius and said not a word. Calista nudged Caprius that they should move along. The man looked half-dead and very frail. They waited another moment to see if he’d answer, but he just stood there, his mouth dumbly open a bit. So Caprius and Calista rode on. “Not a very helpful chap, was he?” Caprius remarked. A moment later, Caprius called out to a woman on a porch rocker. “I say, old woman, is there a pub nearby?” he asked. The woman just rocked back and forth.

“This is very odd,” said Calista, shrugging. “I guess we’ll just have to find a pub ourselves. They kept on until they finally came upon an old rundown pub beside a church with several large bells in the belfry. The pub’s sign was broken. “The Greasy Spoon,” Caprius snickered. “That hardly sounds delicious.”

There was nothing else around, so Calista shrugged and dismounted. “I guess this place will have to do,” she said. They tethered their horses to a post and went in. A few people were sitting at tables with pints of ale before them. They occasionally lifted the glasses to their mouths, but no one spoke. Not a word. When the two walked in, everyone slowly turned and stared at them.

“Hello there,” Caprius wiggled his fingers to a middle-aged couple. But they just looked at him with the same sodden expression as everyone else.

“Caprius, I think these people are mute,” whispered Calista.

“Either that or they’re scared of something,” said Caprius. They sat at a small table. The place felt less like a pub and more like a funeral home. Caprius suspected he could stick a pin in the man beside him and he wouldn’t react... READ MORE



RELEASED EXCERPT >>> The Riddles of Anomptra


Felicia let her eyes flutter closed briefly. When she opened them, her vision was clear and purposeful. “Two thousand years ago, Bremandolf had the greatest power in all of Alamptria. Instead of using his wisdom to strike at Makoor, he let his guard down. That is why your father failed. Now only with the sword of Bivion can Makoor be destroyed. It is the only blade made by an elf that can bring him to death.”

“I have read the stories on the sword of Bivion in your book written centuries ago. That sword was destroyed!” Grongone raised his voice.

“No, it was not destroyed. It is merely lost,” said Felicia. “The sword of Bivion lies in the depths of the caves of Mount Drone in the shadows of the waters. The son of Caprius Seaton will find a way. That I assure you.” Felicia edged closer. “I have seen the sword of Bivion in my visions. It does exist. Lantrinon will find it.”

“I have the sword of Lantrinon. One that he will use until he finds the sword of Bivion.” Grogone pointed to two large stones in the garden. “He and Trojas will both work for it.”

Felicia looked concerned. “There is something else you must know. The prophecy also states that the mother of Lantrinon will enter the dark world in time.”

Grongone gasped. “Oh, no, not Melina.”

“It is by her doing that I will live once more. I will become a living soul as I once was,” said Felicia.

“That is not what the prophecy stated,” said Grongone.

“The prophecy has many meanings. It can be misread. You must try and unravel its mystery. It was I who wrote the book of Bivion. My foresight has allowed me to interpret the true prophecy. I know its meanings.”

“I am sorry. I do not pretend to comprehend its full meaning as you have. But if what you say is true, then my heart will rejoice to have you by my side once again, Felicia. No Kongorf will ever pierce your heart again.” Grongone paused. “I must ask, though; you and my father speak of Lantrinon’s fall. We understood that he is the chosen one. What premonitions do you see for the boy? Your power is greater than mine; tell me, wise one, what is it you know that I cannot see?”

“Before Lantrinon’s rise, he will endure pain and suffering. Your answer lies here beneath his castle.”

“Felicia, show me where I can find the answer. Please, would you guide me?” asked Grongone. ... READ MORE







He is the hunter who preys upon humans in his lust for blood. He is the iniquitous beast with the strength of ten men. He is swift enough to dodge bullets; stealthy enough to fly into the night as a bat; capable of transformation into a wolf, into a heavy mist, or into nothing at all, and as suddenly can vanish in a moment. He is Dracula: the blood sucking vampire.

These immortal creatures captivate audiences because they speak to the beast that lies inside us all. Our curiosity about these blood-sucking parasites is insatiable. Is it the horror and danger? The overwhelming desire for eternal life? A dark possibility for seduction? Or it is that they can assume human form yet possess superhuman dark powers?

It is certainly all of these. Vampires have captured the literary imagination now more than ever. Dracula is one of the most powerfully written fictional characters ever created, and the books and films in which he appears continue to intrigue audiences. No single character has managed to captivate us equally since Dracula was created over a hundred years ago. Count Dracula’s intention to survive the ages has manifested; he who hungers for eternal life and embraces the darkness by which to draw human blood shall indeed live forever.... READ MORE

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All literary work is copyright of Richard A. Ericson (2002-2014) * Please check back here soon for most updated website.



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