ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I'm doing research for a new book I want to write. I'm entitling it: THE PAGANS OF SCRIPTURE. From time to time I will be posting notes for the book...

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

   David DeLane Snow was born in Irving, Texas in 1963.  He lived in various small towns in north-central Texas, and grew up in Brownwood.  Later, DeLane Snow lived for twenty years in Corpus Christi, where he served as a Chaplain’s Assistant in the Texas Army National Guard.  For several years he has been employed in the Mental Health field, and currently resides with Alice Snow, his wife of more than thirty years, in Lewisville, Texas.
   Religiously DeLane Snow was raised as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses for thirteen years. After many of his own family members “fell away” he later married, and then converted to his wife’s faith as a Southern Baptist, for fifteen years.  Being baptized for the first time in 1984 he soon became a Sunday School teacher, then in 1987 was Licensed as a Lay Minister and began attending Howard Payne University’s seminary extension programs in Corpus Christi, Texas.  After many years of searching and struggling with personal issues, DeLane left Christianity in search of the Pagan Expression of spiritual matters.
   In 2002 he entered a Wiccan Coven, a Neo-Pagan eclectic study-group; yet, due to employment scheduling issues departed after a few years.  But still continues to claim the Pagan Path as his own.  Being a “Solitary Practitioner” DeLane Snow continues to seek out self improvement, striving to create a network of like “believers” for the past fourteen years. With the advent of this work’s research he has come to another cross road in his journey.

STORY PREVIEW...

INSTITUTIONAL  ME

A short story by

David DeLane Snow

     The tall, wiry haired man, named Douglas had both outstretched arms pressing against the window as he was licking the glass, and giggling happily to himself.  Suddenly he turned around and began violently screaming bloody murder, jumping up and down, waving both hands wildly in the air for no apparent reason.
   “Douglas stop that!” Yelled a staff from across the room.
   Then uncharacteristically, the client spoke out, “Eerey yehaa Ct-oot!”
   “Shut it up, Douglas, now!” Admonished another staff who came running out of the dinning area, adjacent to the long hallway off the dayroom area.  The first staff threw him unexpectedly to the ground binding his flying arms underneath him, while the other laid across his legs.
   “Calm down, Douglas - and damn it, you know what that means!” Said Thomas, who bore across the pinned man’s shoulders.
   “He probably thought that he saw you-know-who’s car.” Robert said as he
restrained the limp legs.
   “Jason’s?” asked Thomas.
   “Man, let him up.”  Which they both did, assisting Douglas to his feet with earnest sincerity, then Robert injected, “Gessh, I’d have a behavior episode too if I saw him coming in this early.”  They both laughed, then turned and began looking out the window with the glass-licking client in the middle, just to make sure it wasn’t a black Ford pickup after all.
    I don’t know if I can last through the weekend.  Five days had been tough enough to endure.  Getting up at six o’clock in the morning after tossing and turning; chasing bits of sleep  in between the screams and slamming doors of the night shift were beginning to wear on me.  With a room mate like Douglas Edgar Milford; who laid astride his over-sized teddy bear as thirty other pair of stuffed animal eyes looked on in horror wondering when they would be humped next, had me on guard as well...