December 11, 2025

Self Penned

The Jail Job: The intended guy is in Rikers Island doing a year. George uses Juanita’s computer skills to access the inmate Database and have him released early. Vinnie tells him he is a snitch and a suspected child molester, but the truth is he is an undercover ATF officer investigating Vinnie’s interests in Rikers Island, where he controls the drug and sex trade in the huge jail. When he is taken to the prison ferry and released, he has no idea what has happened. He finds himself on the street with no funds, phone, walking after he is dropped off by the prison transport bus. He resolves himself to the thirty block walk to the ATF offices. George catches him on the way and kills him.

#Crime #HitMan #OrganizedCrime #Mystery #Thriller #Drama


Home:https://www.wendellsweet.com


Over 50 Manuscripts available

1. Working title “Escape to the Past”

Plot Overview

The story follows Ben Watson. He is almost 70 years old and his life is in shambles. He has been married 4 times, and each marriage has been progressively worse. Now he is with a woman Sarah Horton, twenty years his junior and has learned to have a real relationship. She has been through trauma of her own, including a 25 year marriage and three children with a man who abused her, cheated on her and she finally worked up the courage to leave. Ben has three children of his own. Neither Ben nor Sarah see their children.

Main Story lines

  • Ben and Sarah: The two are living together and circumstance get worse. Ben is sick. He needs heart surgery. Sarah is also sick from undetermined illness that keeps her depressed and suicidal.
  • Robert Lake: They have a friend, Robert Lake who works for the government. Unbeknownst to them, Bob is in a top secret project involving time travel. He was assigned to watch them and use their lives as examples. But over time Bob begins to actually care for them.
  • The Clandestine mission: Bob attends several clandestine meetings where the abilities of the team are discussed. They can send people back to a specific date in time that has already occurred, but they can not bring them back, and their ability to communicate with them ends shortly after they arrive in the time. They never hear from them again.
  • How it Works: They use test subjects to find safe places to send soldiers. It is soldier volunteers they use to go back and check out the past. They use test subjects first, involuntarily, because they do not know where exactly the will arrive. Maybe in the middle of a body of water, a rock, a road where they will be hit and killed. The test subjects allow them to find safe places.
  • The Betrayal: The time has come for Bob to deliver Ben and Sarah to be test subjects, most likely killed. He can not do it and so he talks to Ben and Ben talks to Sarah. They come to realize they will be forced to do it. They decide to go back, but through a safe window Robert knows about. It will land them in 1968

2. Series Working Titles “Survive” 6 manuscripts dystopian survival series.

Plot Overview

The book follows survivors of a worldwide catastrophe which destroyed governments, cities, and social structures. Small groups of people band together to survive, rebuild, and create a new society.

Main Storylines

  • A small group of survivors on the East Coast, camped near Manhattan, must decide their next move a midst the ruins.
  • Adam takes charge of a group in Manhattan, fighting to protect them from gangs and violence.
  • Conner and Katie provide safe haven for others, leading to a showdown with rival factions.
  • Mike, left for dead, seeks revenge and reunites with his group
  • The series progresses through the six books. Character names are replaceable…

3. Working Title “Living in the ‘Nam” War, action, thriller, military survival.

General Plot: A group of men fight their way through the jungles of ‘Nam and Cambodia. Based on a short story I wrote a few decades ago. This follows the company of men assigned to patrols, seek and destroy missions. Here is a sample from the manuscript…

The hulking silhouettes of the Huey helicopters, their rotor blades a thunderous percussion against the bruised dawn sky, began their descent. Sergeant Beeker, helmet already snug, felt the familiar vibration hum through the soles of his boots, a premonition of the chaos to come. Below, the shoreline of Vietnam, a ribbon of pale sand fringed by an impossibly verdant jungle, beckoned with the promise of both mission and peril. The air, a thick, suffocating blanket, tasted of salt and the metallic tang of distant ordnance, a pungent perfume that immediately stripped away the sterile calm of the transit. It was a sensory assault, a brutal welcome to a war that had already claimed so many.


The roar of the engines, an all-consuming presence, seemed to drown out the ceaseless, percussive rhythm of the ocean’s surf crashing onto the beach. This was no tranquil shore; it was a contested threshold, a place where the known world bled into the terrifying unknown. Beeker’s men, their faces a mixture of grim determination and thinly veiled apprehension, shifted their weight, the heavy bulk of their rucksacks and gear an immediate reminder of the burden they carried, both physical and metaphorical. Each man was a walking arsenal, his life dependent on the mechanisms and ammunition strapped to his back, but also on the mettle of the souls beside him.


As the choppers settled, kicking up clouds of sand and spray, the ramp dropped with a clang that echoed Beeker’s own internal alarm. The men spilled out, a river of olive drab flowing onto the alien sand. The humidity seized them instantly, clinging to their skin like a second, sweat-soaked uniform. It was a damp, cloying embrace that promised no comfort, only discomfort and the constant threat of chafing and exhaustion. The sand itself was a deceptive carpet, shifting and soft underfoot, betraying the firm ground they had left behind. Every step was a conscious effort, a battle against the terrain before the real fight even began.


Beeker scanned the treeline, his eyes, trained by countless hours of instruction and grim experience, searching for any flicker of movement, any anomaly in the otherwise uniform green. The jungle loomed, a dense, impenetrable wall of vegetation, its silence unnerving. It was a silence that screamed of hidden dangers, of watchful eyes and coiled muscles. The distant artillery, a low, guttural rumble, served as a constant reminder that this was no isolated incident, but a theater of war, vast and unforgiving. The ocean’s roar, a primal force, seemed to mock their fragile human endeavors, a reminder of nature’s indifference to their plight.


Corporal Davies, his face tight with strain, adjusted his M16, his knuckles white. “Hot here, Sarge,” he muttered, his voice a rough whisper swallowed by the din.


“Keep your head down, Davies,” Beeker replied, his gaze never leaving the jungle’s edge. “It’s always hot.” He knew the heat was more than just the oppressive climate; it was the simmering tension that permeated the air, the unspoken fear that clung to each man like the sticky humidity.


The men began to spread out, fanning across the beachhead, their movements practiced and efficient, yet underscored by a palpable urgency. They were a small island of ordered chaos in a sea of natural indifference and potential hostility. The objective was clear: establish a perimeter, secure a foothold, and prepare for whatever came next. But the sheer scale of the task, the vastness of the enemy territory they had just infiltrated, weighed heavily on Beeker. They were a single unit, a mere handful of soldiers against an unseen enemy who knew this land intimately, who could melt into its shadows and strike with deadly precision.


Private Miller, barely out of his teens, stumbled slightly, his pack riding high on his shoulders. Beeker caught his eye, offering a curt nod of acknowledgment, a silent reassurance that he saw him, that he was accounted for. Miller’s youth was a stark reminder of the innocence being stripped away, piece by piece, with every step they took deeper into this conflict. The boys who had left home, full of bravado and patriotic fervor, were slowly being chiseled into something harder, something more resilient, but also something irrevocably altered.


The beachhead was a treacherous expanse, a narrow strip of vulnerability between the vast, indifferent ocean and the dark, menacing embrace of the jungle. It was a place of transition, a point of no return. The initial moments were critical, a race against time to establish a defensive line before the enemy could exploit their exposed position. Every man understood his role, the importance of his contribution to the collective survival. They moved with a focused intensity, their senses heightened, tuned to the subtle shifts in the environment that could signal danger.


Beeker felt the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in his gut, a constant companion on these deployments. It wasn’t the fear of death, not exactly, but the fear of failure, the fear of not being able to protect his men, the fear of making the wrong call that would send them all into the abyss. He trusted his training, his instincts, but he also knew that in this war, intuition and experience often warred against a capricious and brutal reality. The dice were loaded, and the stakes were lives.


As the perimeter began to take shape, a series of hasty defensive positions dug into the soft sand, a low hum began to fill the air, different from the helicopters’ departing thrum. It was a subtle sound at first, easily dismissed as the wind or the persistent insects. But it grew, becoming more distinct, more… purposeful. Beeker’s head snapped up, his gaze sweeping the treeline with renewed intensity.


“Hear that?” he barked, his voice cutting through the ambient noise.


A ripple of apprehension went through the men. They had been trained for this, prepared for the sudden eruption of violence, but preparation could only do so much against the visceral shock of contact. The enemy was always the unseen variable, the ghost in the machine, capable of materializing from nowhere.

Dozens of manuscripts ready now, or tell me what you need and I will supply it. I may even have what you want already written, Dell Sweet

Contact info: radsandboxofficial@gmail.com Subject: Ghostwriter

Info: Manuscripts are finished to the point where you can edit and make them yours. The story lines are completely written. The manuscripts average about 100 k. There are character names and place names, they can easily be edited and mass changed.

You can check out my work on Amazon to see how I write and to satisfy yourself that I am legitimate and professional as well as a quality writer. Over 50 manuscripts available in many genres.

Dell Sweet, one of my popular pen names: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Dell-Sweet/author/B01N24V05N?ccs_id=755e0992-d485-44ee-8d16-5d450d6f6a88

Geo Dell, another of my popular pen names: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Geo-Dell/author/B00BI08VNY?ccs_id=74f99b9e-a89b-42a4-870c-cfe7c0a556cf

Frequent Walker is a song I wrote about drugs and my time spent in that life and how it affected me and what I felt like.

Lyrics Copyright © Wendell G. Sweet 2010 ♪ ♫ ♪ Date Written; 10-20-2010

Song Title: Frequent Walker Style: Alternative

Verse One:

In this world… time moves by… doesn’t stop for you or me… The ones who stop and wait are the ones who never see… So my feet… move me on… though they’re weary of this flight… They will lead me to tomorrow, wipe the fallen from my sight…

Instrumental—————Short lead transition—————————————————–

Hook:

Pick me up… Fill my cup… Fix the damage in my head… Fill my soul… Make me whole… Raise me from the dead… Show my eyes what can be… shine your light so I can see…

Verse Two:

In my life… I have seen… distant dreams of futures past… And the one who filled my cup left it empty at the last… And my eyes… tired from sight… rimmed in red and slow to see… Can’t conceive eternity from the edge of what can be…

Instrumental—————Short lead transition—————————————————–

Hook:

Pick me up… Fill my cup… Fix the damage in my head… Fill my soul… Make me whole… Raise me from the dead… Show my eyes what can be… shine your light so I can see…

Verse Three:

Walk alone… Through this world… Through this cold I’ve always known… Taking only what I need from the seed that has been sown… And this world… sells itself… pretty dreams that can not be… And though we stop to look we can never truly see…

Instrumental————— Long Lead —————————————————————-

Verse Four:

Take my time… tap the glass… raise the bubbles from my cure… Pull the curtains on my pasts… and all I thought they ever were… As my soul… Finds its way… push the darkness from my mind… Lay your words upon my heart as my rest I go to find…

Instrumental—————Short lead transition—————————————————–

Hook

Pick me up… Fill my cup… Fix the damage in my head… Fill my soul… Make me whole… Raise me from the dead… Show my eyes what can be… shine your light so I can see… Verse Five: Let my heart… lead me on… from your memories in my mind… lay your coins upon my eyes… speak your magic line by line… As my sun… slowly sets… I will try not to forget… all the lessons from this world and the souls that I have met…

Instrumental—————Short lead transition—————————————————–

Hook / Xtro:

Pick me up… Fill my cup… Fix the damage in my head… Fill my soul… Make me whole… Raise me from the dead… Show my eyes what can be… shine your light so I can see… which way to walk…

Why I Wrote It: I wrote this song in one shot, most of it came as fast as I could write it. I understood what it was as I wrote it, although the lyrics are slightly obscure, or seemed to me to be (I’ve since been told by readers that it’s not so obscure but pretty straight forward.). It’s about my life ending of course. Flirtation with suicide. Drug use. Disillusionment with the world, religion, society on every level. I spent a lot of my life that way. When I was on the streets for two years this is the way, I looked at the world. Cynical, glass half full. I tried suicide, nearly succeeded. I thought how nice it would be to lay down and pull the plug. That is what this song is about. I’m not there anymore. I don’t want to encourage anyone to be there either, but some of us spent years there and never talked about it…

#SelfPenned #dellsweet #Lyrics #bmi #FrequentWalker #DrugUse

Video: https://youtu.be/8wpq1FkhVdg

The Streets
By Wendell Sweet
One evening, I found myself back at the scene of the car accident—the snow-covered road where my life nearly ended. The scars on my body served as tangible reminders of that brutal night; the emotional scars were far deeper. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind. The cold night air, the harsh sounds of snow crunching under my boots; it all was reminiscent of the night that would nearly cost my life. Standing there, I felt a wave of sadness, a flicker of the old fear, but it quickly subsided. The trauma was still there, woven into the fabric of my being, but it no longer controlled me. I had faced it, processed it, and emerged stronger.#True #NonFiction #Crime #Memoir #Kindle #KU Kindle:

Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Audiobook/B0FQVL39PF


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


Posted by Dell

Happy Sunday! This has been a pretty good week, writing productivity has been great and there has been a lot of back and forth between a few of us on the writing. That sort of bouncing ideas off each other always results in a better book.

The second Dreamer’s Worlds book is nearly finished. Once it is it will go for editing. That will probably wrap up this coming week sometime, and then I will work on The Fold the new settlement Earth book that the others have been working on. After that I am really thinking about finally finishing the first Rapid City book as an offering for the next ES/Zombie Plagues story. The story has to be told because that place becomes prominent later on in the series, and I have let it wait too long already.

That will bring me to Hurricane the second offering in the Rebecca Monet series. Hurricane is set in the state of Alabama and follows several characters there as a hurricane heads for the city. It will also feature Rebecca Monet as she continues to fight her way up the TV News Anchor ladder to get where she wants to be. It is a graphically violent novel like Billy Jingo and will probably have a warning attached to it.

I write these stories pretty easily. Having spent part of my life on the streets it’s not a far reach for me to see the seedier side of life and the people that populate that world.

This is an excerpt from Hurricane which will probably have to be re-titled because of the Movie Hurricane and writings about Rubin Hurricane Carter, so consider Hurricane a working title. I hope you enjoy the preview…


Hurricane is copyright 2010 – 2014 Wendell Sweet and independAntwriters Publishing.

All rights are reserved by the publishers.

This book excerpt is not for distribution by any means electronic or standard. It may be read and viewed here by anyone, but it may not be copied or transferred to any other platform/delivery system or website without the express permission of the publisher and Copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. And resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. All events and circumstances are products of the authors imagination.

You may share this material with others by pointing them to this blog.


~

“I’m sorry,” Amy said, “Mike is such a asshole.”

Deidre said nothing. She had called and said she was having dinner at Amy’s house and that she would ride home from school with Amy’s mother, and then catch a ride back from Eight Mile later on. It was all a lie of course. Amy had called to tell her mother she would be at Deidre’s house. Someday it was all going to catch up to them, Deidre thought. But for now it hadn’t.

“Aim, earlier, before all the crap with Mike and Jimmy, we were talking,” Deidre said.

“Yeah,” Amy said. ” that is probably why he did it. Mike doesn’t like you and I to be together… To talk.” She said. They were both sitting on the running boards of Jimmy’s truck sipping beers. Dinner had been a bag of nachos. Split. And the beer, which Amy claimed had both calories and sugar, and so accounted for most of their dinner requirements.

“Between the two, we’re good,” Amy said half seriously.

“You said you were thinking of me,” Deidre said.

It seemed as though Amy was not going to answer her. “Uh huh… I know,” she said at last looking at her as she spoke.

“Hey!” Mike said, stepping around the corner of the truck. “I gotta piss, so, what are you gonna do just sit there and watch?” He tugged at his zipper, leering as he did, and Amy and Deidre both got up and walked away.

“Hey! What are you, a couple a fuckin’ lesbos? You only hang out with each other… People are gonna think things.”

Deidre’s face turned red. She turned back around and looked at him. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself with that little dick of yours,” She said quietly.

“What did you say,:” Mike asked. He took a step towards her, still holding his dick in his hand.

“I think you heard me or are your ears that small too,” she asked?

“You think you’re so fuckin’ smart, Bitch, but some day…”Mike said. Barely catching and hanging onto his temper.

“Dee, please,” Amy said. “Let it go.”

Deidre turned and walked away with Amy. Mike said nothing more.

Mike went back to pissing. His face red. His temples pulsing. Jimmy stepped up behind him. Mike finished, zipped himself up and turned around.

“Some day what?” Jimmy asked. His words were a little thick. They had been drinking most of the afternoon.

“What,” Mike asked?

Jimmy just stared at him. Jimmy was slow to anger, but Mike and he had known each other all of their lives and Jimmy was no one to fuck with once he did actually get angry. Especially when he was drinking.

“Okay,” Mike said. “She pissed me off… Did you hear what she said? I just got pissed is all.”

“I heard what both of you said. You started it with her. What’s the deal with the lesbian remark and coming over here to piss like that? Just expecting them to go? Did you whip it right out in front of them,” Jimmy asked?

“No… Of course not, Jimmy,” Mike said. “Look, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. I just don’t like being talked to like that by any body let alone a girl. I’m not used to it. No man is,” Mike finished.

Jimmy stood for a moment and then the tension just ran out of him. “Fuck… She’d got a smart mouth… I know that. I’ll talk to her.. But you watch your mouth too… We’re friends.. I wouldn’t ever talk to Amy that way.. See?”

“Yeah.. Yeah, I see,” Mike agreed. Jimmy clapped one hand on his back and they walked away together back to the front of the Nissan.


Get the book…

Hurricane

Amy and Diedra are best friends, maybe more, something always seems to be in the way every time an opportunity to explore the possibilities arise. Dave Plasko is serving a long sentence at Huntsville state prison, and after that he will be transferred to New York to serve more time. Rebbeca Monet is working her way up the ladder of success in the television reporter game. A hurricane of epic proportions is heading towards Mobile Alabama. The lives of the people involved will never be the same again… #Crime #Drama #Action #Readers #DellSweet #KDP #KU


Have a great week and I’ll be back next weekend…


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


In the heart of the vast and shimmering Pacific Ocean, three young ship boys, each no more than a few years past their childhood, found themselves cast away on a breathtakingly beautiful tropical island. This was no ordinary place; it was a lush paradise adorned with vibrant flora and fauna, where the warm sun kissed the golden sands and the gentle waves whispered secrets of the sea. Yet, beneath this idyllic exterior lay the harsh reality of survival in the 17th century, a time when the world was still largely unexplored and filled with both wonder and danger. #HistoricalFiction #SeaAdventure #DellSweet #KU #Kindle #Readers #BookLovers #Paperback


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


The dust swirled around my worn boots, a miniature desert storm kicked up by the frantic thump of my own heart. The air hung thick and heavy, the scent of dry earth and something else… something metallic and sickeningly sweet, clinging to the back of my throat. It was the smell of blood. Old blood. New blood. The kind that stains the soul as deeply as it stains the earth.
I’d been clean for six months, six agonizing months of sweat-soaked nights and gnawing cravings, a testament to a willpower I never knew I possessed. Six months of staring at the cracked pavement, avoiding the shadowed corners where my past lurked like a hungry ghost. But tonight, the ghost had found me.

#Crime #Readers #BookWorms #KU #KindleUnlimited #Amazon #DellSweet #WriterzNet


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


by Geo Dell (Author), Dell Sweet (Author)  Format: Kindle Edition

4.4 out of 5 stars   (10)

Collected books from: The Earth’s Survivors


Earth’s Survivors box set contains the entire Earth’s Survivors series in one volume. Book One: Earth’s Survivors Apocalypse follows survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth hits and becomes the cap to a series of events that destroy the world as we know it. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in a desperate struggle to survive. Small group’s band together for safety, leaving the ravaged cities behind in search of a new future… 10 books. #Dystopian #Survival #Drama #Thriller #ApocalypticFiction #PostApocalypse #KU


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com


Kindle Edition

by Dell Sweet (Author)

Easy crime is a series of crime fiction novels that deal with members from the same crew and the crimes they plan. Parolees out of prison, street people, desperate men and women, and people who have been in prison together. And, there are all the reasons women get into crime gangs, desperation and good looking, handsome men who influence them in bad ways. For men it is the beautiful women who look so vulnerable but will cut you in a second and walk away. The chance for all of them to be on an equal level, to pay for those drugs, or maybe just to pay for those groceries and put gas in the car… #Crime #Drama #Amazon #Readers #eBooks #series #Thriller https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FNFN93TX


Home: https://www.wendellsweet.com