July 15, 2025

Reset: Onset. In a world ravaged by Apocalypse, Reset follows survivors as they struggle to stay alive. If you’re looking for series to binge-read you’ve found it. #Horror #ApocalypticFiction #Dystopian #zombiefiction

U.S.: https://1l.ink/3FBCKX6

U.K.: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0D1NVQF3PCA

AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0D1NVQF3P

MX: https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B0D1NVQF3P

https://youtu.be/ExYps9wCmD8


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. The ZIP file also includes the maps and graphics as shown in the images below. #3DModel k #dellsweet #directx #Landscape #OffRoad #Track

#3DModels #3DCarModels #dellsweet

This is an off road track I built for testing cars and to add to Rad Sandbox for game play or game making. I have other off road tracks that I will load as well and that have been added to RAD.

This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. #3DLandModel #directx #dellsweet

This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. The ZIP file also includes the maps and graphics as shown in the images below. #lopoly #3ddesign #dellsweet


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


Scroll down for a free story read…

True: True Stories from a small town #1

The True: True stories from a small town are true stories from that place. From my childhood up through my adulthood. Some heartfelt, some heart rending, some the horrible truth of the life I lived at that time… #NonFiction #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Childhood #Readers #KU #Amazon

True: True stories from a small town #2

In my younger days I lived my life like there was no tomorrow. I wasn’t thinking about what to do when the check came due, when life changed, when I crossed someone or they crossed me. I wish I had grown up different, but my time on the streets and the lessons that taught me. #NonFiction #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Childhood #Readers #KU #Amazon

True: True stories from a small town #3

In AA they say that addictions will take you to hospitals, Mental Institutions and Prisons. It’s true. They will. I have been in all of those places because of my addictions. But addictions are not responsible for the life I lead entirely, and certainly not responsible for the things I did. #NonFiction #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Childhood #Readers #KU #Amazon

True: True stories from a small town #4

The True: True stories from a small town are true stories from that place. From my childhood up through my adulthood. Some heartfelt, some heart rending, some the horrible truth of the life I lived at that time…
(Based on a true story from my life. Names have been changed, but truthfully almost all of them are dead now so it doesn’t matter.) #NonFiction #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Childhood #Readers #KU #Amazon


Free story from book one

THE DAM

It was summer, the trees full and green, the temperatures in the upper seventies. And you could smell the river from where it ran behind the paper mills and factories crowded around it, just beyond the public square; A dead smell, waste from the paper plants.

I think it was John who said something first. “Fuck it,” or something like that,” I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Pete asked?

“Yeah… I think so,” John agreed. His eyes locked on Pete’s, but they didn’t stay. They slipped away and began to wander along the riverbed, the sharp rocks that littered the tops of the cliffs and the distance to the water. I didn’t like it.

Gary just nodded. Gary was the oldest so we pretty much went along with the way he saw things.

“But it’s your Dad,” I said at last. I felt stupid. Defensive. But it really felt to me like he really wasn’t seeing things clearly. I didn’t trust how calm he was, or how he kept looking at the river banks and then down to the water maybe eighty feet are so below.

“I should know,” John said. But his eyes didn’t meet mine at all.

“He should know,” Gary agreed and that was that.

“That’s cool. Let’s go down to the river,” Pete suggested, changing the subject.

“I’m not climbing down there,” I said. I looked down the sheer rock drop off to the water. John was still looking too, and his eyes were glistening, wet, his lips moved slightly as if he was talking to himself. If he was I couldn’t hear. But then he spoke aloud.

“We could make it, I bet,” he said as though it was an afterthought to some other idea. I couldn’t quite see that idea, at least I told myself that later. But I felt some sort of way about it. As if it had feelings of it’s own attached to it.

“No, man,” Gary said. “Pete didn’t mean beginning here… Did you,” he asked?

“No… No, you know, out to Huntingtonville,” Pete said. He leaned forward on his bike, looked at john, followed his eyes down to the river and then back up. John looked at him.

“What!” John asked.

“Nothing, man,” Pete said. “We’ll ride out to Huntingtonville. To the dam. That’d be cool… Wouldn’t it?” You could see the flatness in John’s eye’s. It made Pete nervous. He looked at Gary.

“Yeah,” Gary said. He looked at me.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “That’d be cool.” I spun one pedal on my stingray, scuffed the dirt with the toe of one Ked and then I looked at John again. His eyes were still too shiny, but he shifted on his banana seat, scuffed the ground with one of his own Keds and then said, “Yeah,” kind of under his breath. Again like it was an afterthought to something else. He lifted his head from his close inspection of the ground, or the river, or the rocky banks, or something in some other world for all I knew, and it seemed more like the last to me, but he met all of our eyes with one sliding loop of his own eyes, and even managed to smile.

~

The bike ride out to Huntingtonville was about four miles. It was a beautiful day and we lazed our way along, avoiding the streets, riding beside the railroad tracks that just happened to run out there. The railroad tracks bisected Watertown. They were like our own private road to anywhere we wanted to go. Summer, fall or winter. It didn’t matter. You could hear the trains coming from a long way off. More than enough time to get out of the way.

We had stripped our shirts off earlier in the morning when we had been crossing the only area of the tracks that we felt were dangerous, a long section of track that was suspended over the Black river on a rail trestle. My heart had beat fast as we had walked tie to tie trying not to look down at the rapids far below. Now we were four skinny, jeans clad boys with our shirts tied around our waists riding our bikes along the sides of those same railroad tracks where they ran through our neighborhood, occasionally bumping over the ties as we went. Gary managed to ride on one of the rails for about 100 feet. No one managed anything better.

Huntingtonville was a small river community just outside of Watertown. It was like the section of town that was so poor it could not simply be across the tracks or on the other side of the river, it had to be removed to the outskirts of the city itself. It was where the poorest of the poor lived, the least desirable races. The blacks. The Indians. Whatever else good, upstanding white Americans felt threatened or insulted by. It was where my father had come from, being both black and Indian.

I didn’t look like my father. I looked like my mother. My mother was Irish and English. About as white as white could be. I guess I was passing. But I was too poor, too much of a dumb kid to even know that back then in 1969.

John’s father was the reason we were all so worried. A few days before we had been playing baseball in the gravel lot of the lumber company across the street from where we lived. The railroad tracks ran behind that lumber company. John was just catching his breath after having hit a home run when his mother called him in side. We all heard later from our own mothers that John’s father had been hurt somehow. Something to do with his head. A stroke. I really didn’t know what a stroke was at that time or understand everything that it meant. I only knew it was bad. It was later in life that I understood how bad. All of us probably. But we did understand that John’s father had nearly died, and would never be his old self again, if he even managed to pull through.

It was a few days after that now. The first time the four of us had gotten back together. We all felt at loose ends. It simply had made no sense for the three of us to try to do much of anything without John. We had tried but all we could think about or talk about was John’s father. Would he be okay? Would they move? That worried me the most. His sister was about the most beautiful girl in the entire world to me. So not only would John move, so would she.

He came back to us today not saying a word about it. And we were worried.

When we reached the dam the water was high. That could mean that either the dam had been running off the excess water, or was about to be. You just had to look at the river and decide.

“We could go to the other side and back,” John suggested.

The dam was about 20 or 30 feet high. Looming over a rock strewn riverbed that had very little water. It was deeper out towards the middle, probably, it looked like it was, but it was all dry river rock along the grassy banks. The top of the Dam stretched about 700 feet across the river.

“I don’t know,” Pete said. “the dam might be about to run. We could get stuck on the other side for awhile.”

No one was concerned about a little wet feet if the dam did suddenly start running as we were crossing it. It didn’t run that fast. And it had caught us before. It was no big deal. Pete’s concern was getting stuck on the little island where the damn ended for an hour or so. Once, john, and myself had been on that island and some kids, older kids, had decided to shoot at us with 22 caliber rifles. Scared us half to death. But that’s not the story I’m trying to tell you today. Maybe I’ll tell you that one some other time. Today I’m trying to tell you about John’s father. And how calm John seemed to be taking it.

John didn’t wait for anyone else to comment. He dumped his bike and started to climb up the side of the concrete abutment to reach the top of the dam and walk across to the island. There was nothing for us to do except fall in behind him. One by one we did.

It all went smoothly. The water began to top the dam, soaking our Keds with its yellow paper mill stink and scummy white foam, just about halfway across. But we all made it to the other side and the island with no trouble. Pete and I climbed down and walked away. To this day I have no idea what words passed between Gary and john, but the next thing I knew they were both climbing back up onto the top of the dam, where the water was flowing faster now. Faster than it had ever flowed when we had attempted to cross the dam. Pete nearly at the top of the concrete wall, Gary several feet behind him.

John didn’t hesitate. He hit the top, stepped into the yellow brown torrent of river water pouring over the falls and began to walk back out to the middle of the river. Gary yelled to him as Pete and I climbed back up to the top of the dam.

I don’t think I was trying to be a hero, but the other thought, the thought he had pulled back from earlier, had just clicked in my head. John was thinking about dying. About killing himself. I could see it on the picture of his face that I held in my head from earlier. I didn’t yell to him, I just stepped into the yellow foam and water, found the top of the dam and began walking.

Behind me and Pete and Gary went ballistic. “Joe, what the fuck are you doing!”

I heard it, but I didn’t hear it. I kept moving. I was scared. Petrified. Water tugged at my feet. There was maybe 6 inches now pouring over the dam and more coming, it seemed a long way down to the river. Sharp, up-tilted slabs of rock seemed to be reaching out for me. Secretly hoping that I would fall and shatter my life upon them.

John stopped in the middle of the dam and turned, looking off toward the rock and the river below. I could see the water swirling fast around his ankles. Rising higher as it went. John looked over at me, but he said nothing.

“John,” I said when I got close enough. He finally spoke.

“No,” was all he said. But tears began to spill from his eyes. Leaking from his cheeks and falling into the foam scummed yellow-brown water that flowed ever faster over his feet.

“Don’t,” I screamed. I knew he meant to do it, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Don’t move,” Gary said from behind me. I nearly went over the falls. I hadn’t known he was that close. I looked up and he was right next to me, working his way around me on the slippery surface of the dam. I looked back and Pete was still on the opposite side of the dam. He had climbed up and now he stood on the flat top. Transfixed. Watching us through his thick glasses. Gary had followed John and me across.

I stood still and Gary stepped around me. I have no idea how he did. I’ve thought about it, believe me. There shouldn’t have been enough room, but that was what he did. He stepped right around me and then walked the remaining 20 feet or so to John and grabbed his arm.

“If you jump you kill me too,” Gary said. I heard him perfectly clear above the roar of the dam. He said it like it was nothing. Like it is everything. But mostly he said it like he meant it.

It seemed like they argued and struggled forever, but it was probably less than a minute, maybe two. The waters were rising fast and the whole thing would soon be decided for us. If we didn’t get off the dam quickly we would be swept over by the force of the water.

They almost did go over. So did I. But the three of us got moving and headed back across to the land side where we had dropped our bikes. We climbed down from a dam and watched the water fill the river up. No one spoke.

Eventually john stopped crying. And the afterthought look, as though there some words or thoughts he couldn’t say passed. The dying time had passed.

We waited almost two hours for the river to stop running and then Pete came across…

We only talked about it one other time that summer, and then we never talked about it again. That day was also a beautiful summer day. Sun high in the sky. We were sitting on our bikes watching the dam run.

“I can’t believe you were gonna do it,” Pete said.

“I wasn’t,” John told him. “I only got scared when the water started flowing and froze on the dam… That’s all it was.”

Nobody spoke for a moment and then Gary said, “That’s how it was.”

“Yeah. That’s how it was,” I agreed…


Check out the series: True: True stories from a small town (4 book series) Kindle Edition


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. The ZIP file also includes the maps and graphics as shown in the images below. #3DModel k #dellsweet #directx #Donk

#3DModels #3DCarModels #dellsweet

A Donk van build. I may build a car, in the future, but here is a Donk van. This was fun to build and then I put it in RS and animated it, talking it for a drive around the landscape.

This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. #3DCarModel #directx #dellsweet

This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. The ZIP file also includes the maps and graphics as shown in the images below. #lopoly #landscape #3ddesign #3droad #3DLand #dellsweet


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


Lyrics Copyright © Wendell G. Sweet 2006 ♪ ♫ ♪ Date Written; 10-01-2006

Song Title: A Minor Style: Rock – Alt

Intro I don’t know anything I thought I knew… It’s like my life was stuck in A Minor or something… Instrumental——–Pick up main———————————————————-

Verse One: I spend most of my time filling the holes in my head. Sitting in this cell thinking about the life I’ve lead. It’s all free food and therapy, but I may as well pay for something I can see… This room has a view but all I really wanna do is talk to you… It’s been so long… How could that be wrong? (spoken) Everything we had was based on sex money and lies. When you left you took it all… Nothing to keep but alibis…

Bridge One: What I kept don’t amount to much, but I was never fixed in this world anyway… I’m just sitting here waiting on a bus for the next… May as well take my time, I got… Plenty of it… Sometimes it runs late… But I ain’t entertaining offers while I wait.

Hook One: I could never tell you nothin’ real. It was all about me all of the time. It was easier to hide the way I feel, like you were talking on my dime. I used to believe it was easier to hold it all inside… I never gave you anything… And I know how hard you tried…

Instrumental———————–Into Verse Two——————————————

Verse Two: (spoken) I Just want to make this right before I go. Pay my bill or at least knock it down, I don’t know. I wish I could set you free from what I’ve done, but I figured it out, you ain’t the only one… (sung) That bus is still running behind and sometimes I get so tired of standing here looking stupid… (spoken) What the hell am I hoping to find… Anyway…

Bridge Two: (sung) Thought about hoping a train… Getting there quicker… But thinking like that only makes me sicker… It’s like my life is stuck in A Minor or something… I don’t know what to do about it, but I know I gotta do something…

Hook Two: So maybe I could tell you something real… It’s a hell of a deal… But I can’t hide myself inside.. I need something to call mine… If we never really had it, what was it we pretended? Was it over long before us or only started once it ended?

Instrumental———–Finger picked back to Verse Structure———————–

Verse Three: Anyway, I just had to write this out… Learn to walk before I fall again. I’ve been working on living, cleaning up some of this sin, but I don’t know… What’s the use in being me if what I was is all you see? Where’s the good in change if the world’s still strange? It’s like I’m still stuck in A Minor or something… I don’t know what to do about it, but I know I’ve got to do something.

Bridge Three: Can’t stand up… Keep falling down… And the little ball keeps spinning around Livin’ my life in blue… … … Tell me what I can do…?

Hook Three: But I could never tell you nothin’ real… And I ain’t sayin’ nothin new… It was easier to hide the way I feel… Can you see it the same way too? If we never really had it, what was it you pretended… Tell me, how long will it be ’til this broken life is ended…?

Xtro: I don’t know anything I thought I knew… I don’t know… I don’t know anything I thought I knew…

Instrumental———-Finger picked to stop————————————————-

Principal Chords: Written In C Major Played from A Minor. Instrumental piece… Am= Am – A4th – Am – A9th +7th – Am = 8 beats Dm= Dm – D4th – Dm – D9th +7th -Dm = 8 beats Intro/Xtro Am G Dm F Fma7th Am G Dm Am Dm Am Verse Dm Am Dm Am Bridge C G Dm F Fma7th C G Am F FMa7th C G Am F FMa7th C G Am F Fma7th C Hook G Am F FMa7th C G Am F Fma7th Am G Dm Or Alt C G Dm F Fma7th C G Dm F Fma7th C G Am F Fma7th Am

Why I Wrote It: This is the first song I ever wrote. It was written around October 1st 2006. I was teaching a music class and one of the students thought we should write our own songs to perform at the coming Christmas show. This song is about my life before prison. What changed inside of me in prison because of the people I came in contact with, and because I was tired of being me. Also, I was sober. Something I had not been for over thirty years at the time I came to prison in 2002.

There is music for these lyrics. I’m writing this in October of 2012 as a free man after ten years in prison. Yes, it’s very long, about nine to eleven minuets depending on the instrumentals. It should be here somewhere recorded as should the sheet music…

#Aminor #dellsweet #BMI #selfpenned


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. The ZIP file also includes the maps and graphics as shown in the images below. #3DModel k #dellsweet #directx #AMC

#3DModels #3DCarModels #dellsweet

This is a model pack featuring three AMC car models. A gremlin model. It is a one off car, a what if AMC had not gone under? What would a modern Gremlin look like? A Pacer and a Hornet model. I owned a Gremlin and a Hornet myself. Loved AMC cars. This is a custom military transport vehicle. I liked the look and so I came up with a model concept, only meant to be a brief exercise but I kept going and finished the concept as the more I did the more I liked it. This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. #3DCarModel #directx #dellsweet

This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. The ZIP file also includes the maps and graphics as shown in the images below. #lopoly #landscape #3ddesign #3droad #3DLand #dellsweet


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. I included renders in Obj, 3DS and FBX as well as Direct X. The ZIP file also includes the maps and graphics as shown in the images below. #isuzu #Trooper #ute #3DModel #3DTruck #dellsweet #fbx #3ds #directx #obj

#3DModels #3DCarModels #dellsweet

This is a custom military transport vehicle. I liked the look and so I came up with a model concept, only meant to be a brief exercise but I kept going and finished the concept as the more I did the more I liked it. This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. The ZIP file also includes converted files in 3DS, OBJ, FBX and includes the maps and graphics as shown on the images below. #1958Chevy #ChevyBelair #1958 #3DCarModel #3DChevrolet #fbx #3ds #obj #directx #dellsweet

This model is designed and rendered in Direct X. I included renders in Obj, 3DS and FBX as well as Direct X. The ZIP file also includes the maps and graphics as shown in the images below. #lopoly #landscape #3ddesign #3droad #3DLand #dellsweet


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


The air hung thick with the smell of ozone and burnt plastic, a lingering scent of their near-death experience. Lonnie ran a hand over the smooth, cool surface of the repaired temporal resonator, its green glow a constant, reassuring presence in the otherwise dim Quonset hut. A man takes a trip back to 1969 and finds he might not be able to return to the future he came from… #Fantasy #SciFi #TimeTravel #Thriller #Readers #Drama #DellSweet 

Amazon.com: 1969 eBook : Sweet, Wendell: Kindle Store https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D6RMT92G

The Wastelands are the ruins of America after the biggest extinction event in 75,000 years hit the planet Earth. Billions of people died, those that didn’t had no help because the governments, military all crumbled and fell apart.

But a virus was born during the destruction and bred in the billions of bodies. A virus that reanimates the dead. Some believe the world governments released it, some believe it was developed and nurtured by nature, just an occurrence that was bound to happen. It wouldn’t be the first time that the human race was nearly toppled by a virus, after all. Meet the survivors and their daily struggels to stay alive as they make their way through the destruction in search of other survivors, food, and water… #ApocalypticFiction #Horror #Readers #ProphetX #SameWolfe #ZombieFiction

The Wastelands (3 book series) Kindle Edition

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CW19WWZ3


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com