A Wooden Horse Full of Nightmares

By Linwood Ellsworth

In a Wooden Horse Full of Nightmare, Camilla Ward, the leader of the Black Liberation Front, rises from activist to President of the United States. As the President, she initiates sweeping changes with executive orders to control the people. Soon America is turned into a totalitarian state.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linwood Ellsworth
• Release date: Jul 22, 2021

Linwood Ellsworth

I served in the United States Army for ten years. I am a veteran of both Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom (Afghanistan). I'm a registered radiologic technologist. I love most sports, but dislike shows dedicated to sports. I love traveling, photography, music, and writing. I reside in Minnesota with my wife and son.

Book preview

A Wooden Horse Full of Nightmares

By Linwood D. Ellsworth

Copyright 2021 Linwood D. Ellsworth

Smashword Edition

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Camilla Ward

The Antediluvian Man

Age of Disbelief

Other Titles by Linwood D. Ellsworth

There is another class of colored people who make a business of keeping the troubles, the wrongs, and the hardships of the Negro race before the public. Having learned that they are able to make a living out of their troubles, they have grown into the settled habit of advertising their wrongs — partly because they want sympathy and partly because it pays. Some of these people do not want the Negro to lose his grievances because they do not want to lose their jobs. ― Booker T. Washington

Camilla Ward

Once again, the interaction between the police and a black man ends with the black man dead, stated the agitated young woman. We will not stand for this any longer! As long as there is no justice in this city, there will be no peace!

She’s a media darling, indicated Will Sullivan, a reporter for the Patriot Journal, as he held up his phone for Nora Matthews, a thin ginger-haired woman. He inhaled on his cigarette then slowly exhaled a cloud of white smoke in the directions of moths flittering around the parking lot’s street lamp.

Trust me; she’s not who she says, replied Nora, a reader of the Patriot Journal, an independent newspaper dedicated to the truth and facts. When you wrote that article about the BLF and its founder, I did some research and came across a man named Elliot A. Corbin with information about Ms. Ward.

Is he reliable? Will asked as he looked around the parking lot. He inhaled on his cigarette then exhaled as he dropped it on the ground. He didn’t bother to step on it thinking it would burn out.

Yes, responded Nora. They expelled him for suggesting the BLF should focus on solving the real problems of the black community.

Which are what? asked Will.

Black on black murder, high dropout rate, teen pregnancies and other stuff that makes sense, said Nora as she checked the time on her phone.

Just four years ago, Camilla Ward and BLF didn’t exist, said Will as he lit another cigarette. He tended to chain smoke when nervous. They supplanted the previous black group, becoming the most progressive and radical organization in the country.

Supplanted or evolved into something a bit more dangerous? asked Nora.

A bit of both, I supposed, responded Will.

I remember this is stuff we use to see in other countries, said Nora.

So what information do you have about Ms. Ward? Will asked.

Nora answered, Her father is Bobby Ward who met her mother Sun Jun, a Chinese national while at UCLA. They married, and two years later Camilla was born. Three years later, they divorced and the mother returns to China with Camilla. At the age of eighteen Camilla returns to the US and graduates from Berkley. The rest is history.

So what kind of indoctrination did she receive while living in China? Will asked.

Then the headlights of a dark-colored SUV cut across the parking lot. The driver of the SUV stopped then flashed the headlights twice.

That’s him, said Nora. Will put his right hand into his shoulder satchel and wrapped his hand around the grip of his pistol.

Suddenly Nora’s head jerked back before she collapsed to the ground. Will’s eyes widened as he watched Nora spasm. Then he was hit in the throat. He quickly grabbed at his throat as bright red blood spurted. Then he was shot in the forehead, cracking open the back of his skull, sending bone and brain matter across the parking lot.

The SUV exited the parking lot.

The late-model four-door dark color SUV with one headlight cruised down Martin Luther King Drive on a hot, muggy night in Any City.

Any City, nicknamed Big Box by the media since it was the headquarters of Big Box Superstore, had five million residents. However, man citizens of the booming metropolis referred to their home as Death City because of the high murder rate between George Washington Carver Heights and W. E. B. Dubois Park. It was where 29% of Any City’s 33% black population resided.

Inside, three African-American males with semi-automatic weapons searched for another African-American male who slighted them. Loud gangsta hip-hop music blared from speakers occupying the entire cargo space.

Dat nigga Qwantez wuz tawkin smack ‘bout you all day bro’, said the rear passenger, whose name was Acqwon Jackson, a career criminal. He had seen the inside of Any State Correctional Facility three times before his twenty-fifth birthday. I wuz like if TreKell wuz here you woodn’t be tawking dat smack.

War dat nigga live? asked Trekell ‘Killah T’ Lloyd, also a career criminal, and like Acqwon, he was familiar with the inside of Any State Correctional Facility.

Dat niggah stay on Nat Turner Street, said Qualeek Haynes, who was younger than both Acqwon and Trekell. Like his two older companions, Qualeek discovered that being a career criminal, despite the many pitfalls, produced quick cash to buy the latest fashion and newest tech. He could also buy the newest weapon. He lives in dat blue house wit da grey thangs on da sides of da window.

You tawkin bout shudders, ya idiot, said Acqwon.

Yeah, dem thangs, said Qualeek.

How you know where his crib is? asked Acqwon.

I use ta bang a shorty bout two cribs down, said Qualeek. I seent him on the porch tawkin with his grandma.

Well, let’s ride on dis nigga, said Trekell as he increased his speed. Nobody tawk bout me. My name is my name.

After three traffic lights, Trekell turned onto Nat Turner Street. Several people walked down the street on the hot summer night while others sat on their porch talking with neighbors. Trekell decreased his speed.

Thar’s his crib, pointed out Qualeek. Look, dem niggas chillin on da porch.

Y’all ready? asked Trekell. He scrolled through his smartphone to find his favorite rap song, Total Destruction. He turned the volume as loud as it would go.

Trekell pressed the gas, and the SUV zoomed forward with the music blaring. As he approached the house, Qualeek and Acqwon lowered their windows. They put out the barrel of their semi-automatic weapons. The pair fired just as the SUV, with the music blaring, became parallel with the house. Glass shattered, and people screamed.

Trekell maintained his speed, running several stop signs. He slowed only to make a tire squealing right-hand turn on Dredd Scott Lane. Inside the SUV, Qualeek and Acqwon gave each other high fives. We smoked dat fucka!

Hours later, Detectives Nolan Roberson and Edward Lucas walked under the yellow crime scene tape. Red and blue lights from first responder’s vehicles painted the night as they reflected off the windows of the houses.

Another night in Death City, growled Nolan Roberson, a ten-year veteran of Any City’s homicide department. He had seen it all coming up through the ranks of the ACPD. Things were worse than when he started.

His partner of six years, Edward Lucas, didn’t respond as they approached a uniformed officer.

What do we have, Officer Ross, asked Edward.

It seems as if the house was the target of a drive-by, responded Officer Ross, pointing to a blue house.

Anyone hurt? asked Nolan.

Three people, responded Officer Ross. A 76-year-old female and three-year-old twins. Their mother said she had just put them to sleep.

Did anyone see anything? asked Nolan.

No one has come forward, said Officer Ross.

Of course not, sighed Edward. That damn no snitching code.

Where’s your car? asked Nolan.

Over there? pointed Officer Ross. Nolan quickly made his way to the cruiser.

"What are