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The Eternal Bridge
The Eternal Bridge is a fantasy parable about a world healed on the surface yet still aching inside. The story begins three years after Geshriel becomes a living bridge that joins two once-hostile shores. People trade, marry, feast, and rebuild, and life looks whole again. Then small tremors shake the land, crops wither, and feasts feel thinner, and the community senses a deeper break between earth and heaven that no wooden span can fix. The book follows families like Fidel and Verita, Liberta and Dathan, and many others as they wrestle with grief, restlessness, and hope while they wait for Geshriel to return and complete the work he began. In the final movement, the bridge turns into a vertical path of light, the dead are raised, a radiant city descends, and the people find their true home in the presence of the Lamb and the Maker, in a union that feels final and yet ever deepening.
I felt pulled in first by the tenderness of the relationships. The marriages and families feel warm and lived in, and I cared about them very quickly. The scenes of simple daily life on the bridge, the artisan work, the trade, the shared meals, all carry a quiet glow. When the cracks appear in that paradise, the emotional punch hits hard, because the book has already convinced me that this community matters. The later reunions with lost children, spouses, and elders hit an even deeper nerve. The big theological ideas turn very personal there, because the hope of resurrection shows up not as an abstract promise but as a mother getting her baby back, or a couple finally freed from decades of guilt.
The prose leans lyrical and earnest, and sometimes it worked for me. The symbols are very clear, and the story rarely hides what it wants to say. The bridge, the orchard, the feast, the tremors, every image points to a spiritual theme. That clarity will comfort some readers. The early chapters linger on peaceful life on the bridge, and a few of those sections felt long, while the cosmic finale races by in a rush of visions, reunions, and worship. I enjoyed that ending.
I would recommend The Eternal Bridge to readers who love clear, heartfelt Christian allegory and who enjoy stories in the vein of C. S. Lewis’s The Great Divorce or classic devotional fiction. If you are hungry for a story that talks openly about loss, longing, reunion, and eternal hope, and if you like the idea of seeing big doctrinal themes lived out in ordinary families, this novel will likely move you.
Pages: 223 | ASIN : B0G4NYKT9J
Longing, Loss, and Waiting
The Broken Bridge tells the story of two communities united by their faith in the Great Bridge and the intense fear and dread that follows its catastrophic collapse. What was the inspiration that drove the development of the world the characters live in?
The story began with a single image in my mind: a great, living bridge holding two communities together—until it falls. I’ve spent years walking with people through conflict, loss, and reconciliation, and I wanted an allegory that shows both the terror of separation and the costly beauty of restoration. The world of The Broken Bridge is built around that question: when what we’ve trusted collapses, which “bridges” do we run to—and which one can actually bear the weight of our hopes?
I felt this story was very well-written. What’s your experience as a writer?
Thank you. I’ve been writing for over two decades—first Bible studies, devotionals, and discipleship courses through our ministry, and then a number of nonfiction books. Fiction became a natural next step for me because a story reaches the heart in ways instruction alone can’t. The Broken Bridge drew on those years of pastoral ministry and teaching, but it let me weave truth into a narrative that invites readers to feel as well as think.
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
Unity and division: how easily communities fracture—and what it truly takes to reunite them.
Counterfeit vs. true solutions: many “fixers” promise quick repair; only one path restores the heart.
Sacrificial love: the kind of love that stands in the gap and pays a cost for others.
Pride and humility: the danger of self-reliance and the freedom that comes from surrender.
Hope through suffering: how longing, loss, and waiting can become the doorway to deeper healing.
What is the next book you are working on, and when will it be available?
Two follow-ups are on the way. The Living Bridge is due out in October 2025—it continues the allegory by exploring how trust is rebuilt and what kind of bridge can truly hold. The trilogy concludes with The Eternal Bridge, scheduled for January 2026, which lifts our eyes to the ultimate reunion and the promise of forever.
Author Links: GoodReads | Amazon
Seven years ago, an earthquake separated Fidel from Verita the day before they were to be married. Now, as they exchange nightly lantern signals—an old watchman’s code Verita learned from her uncle—the churning waters of the Vitae River still separate them, but their light signals speak across the dark divide.
Six builders arrive, each promising to rebuild the bridge. They each represent some aspect of humanity’s attempt to heal what’s broken—through law obedience, knowledge, religion, servitude, charisma, and self-transformation.
When the seventh builder arrives—an ordinary carpenter with extraordinary compassion—everything begins to change. Geshriel speaks of a different kind of restoration, one marked by humility, love, and a mysterious costly sacrifice.
As darkness closes in, will Fidel dare to trust a path that seems weaker than all the others—but somehow feels truer? After seven long years of lantern signals across the raging river, will Fidel and Verita finally be reunited?
This is a story of ache and heartbreak, of longing, of desperate attempts to be reconnected. It speaks of love and loss, of yearning to be reunited.
A story of separation and reunion, sacrifice and redemption—and the bridge that love builds when all else fails.
The Broken Bridge
Mike Cleveland’s The Broken Bridge is a sweeping allegorical tale about unity lost and the sacrificial love that alone can restore it. The story begins in a vibrant and harmonious world where two communities are joined by the Great Bridge. More than just stone and mortar, it’s a living heart that binds people together. Fidel and Verita’s love is set to be sealed at the bridge’s center, but a sudden and catastrophic collapse shatters both the structure and the people’s trust. As the physical chasm grows, so does the spiritual and moral divide, giving way to fear, selfishness, and grief. Various figures, each embodying different philosophies and approaches, arrive to offer their versions of repair, but only one path leads toward true restoration. Through vivid scenes and a layered cast of characters, Cleveland builds an allegory of the human condition, the Fall, and the atonement.
The imagery is lush but never indulgent; the bridge itself is practically a character, breathing with history and meaning. Cleveland’s gift lies in his ability to make a symbolic world feel tangible. I could smell the bread from the communal kitchens, hear the lapping of the Vitae River, and feel the stone vibrate under the feet of a united people. When disaster struck, the grief was palpable. He writes loss in a way that made my chest ache. And yet, there’s a steady thread of hope woven in, even through the darker passages, that kept me turning pages long after midnight.
The book isn’t just a pleasant walk through metaphor. It has sharp edges. The portrayal of human frailty, how quickly love can curdle into self-preservation, hits uncomfortably close to home. I found myself frustrated with characters who gave up too soon, and pained by those who clung to impossible ideals, hurting others in the process. There were moments I wanted to shout advice into the pages. But that’s a credit to Cleveland’s storytelling; his people aren’t cardboard saints or villains. They’re complex, flawed, and deeply human. At times, the moral symbolism is overt, but it never feels like a sermon being read to you. It feels like a mirror being held up.
The Broken Bridge left me with that rare mix of satisfaction and longing. The sense that the story had resolved, but that its truths would keep echoing long afterward. It’s a tale for readers who enjoy their fiction with meaning baked into every scene, who don’t mind being made uncomfortable on the way to being inspired. I’d recommend it to fans of allegorical works like The Pilgrim’s Progress or Hinds’ Feet on High Places, as well as to anyone wrestling with themes of reconciliation, grace, and the cost of true unity.
Pages: 183 | ASIN : B0FH365HJT
Boy of Heaven
Boy of Heaven, by Morris Hoffman, tells the story of an orphan boy in 17th-century Milan who discovers a fading mural, Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper, hidden in what has become the stables of a Dominican priory. As the boy labors among horses, he has named after constellations; he alone sees the painting’s slow return to clarity. What unfolds is a lyrical meditation on suffering, faith, grief, and vision. Hoffman’s novel blends historical fiction with a mystical edge, threading deep emotion through a richly imagined world.
Reading this book pulled something quiet but insistent from me. Hoffman’s writing is unusual, almost liturgical in rhythm. It doesn’t always make for an easy read, but it makes for a rewarding one. There were passages I reread just to feel them again. The boy’s interior world is raw and lonely, but never melodramatic. There’s very little action in the conventional sense. Instead, the story unfolds through daily labor, small kindnesses, and sacred echoes. And yet, I found myself emotionally swept up in the boy’s grief for a horse, his awe at a fresco, his quiet yearning to be seen.
I feel the book drifts at times. There were sections where the pace slowed, where there were long descriptions of the priory or repeated imagery. Everything is so reverent. Still, what the book lacks in momentum, it makes up for in heart. The blend of the sacred and the mundane, the way the horses become mythic, the mystery of the fresco, that’s where it shines. It doesn’t explain itself, and that made it feel more honest and more relatable.
Boy of Heaven isn’t just about art or faith or even memory. It’s about seeing what others miss and holding on to what shouldn’t be forgotten. It’s a quiet book, but it left a loud feeling. I’d recommend it to anyone who loves poetic writing, historical fiction with a spiritual bend, or stories where nothing much happens on the outside but everything changes on the inside. This is not a book to speed through. It’s one to sit with, one to cherish in silence.
Pages: 90 | ASIN : B0F7C4BSRP
Keepers & Destinies: The Reckoning
Keepers and Destinies: The Reckoning, by Carl F. Brothers, picks up in a post-apocalyptic world where natural disasters and supernatural forces have ripped humanity apart. Following the aftermath of a cataclysm triggered by Lucifer’s forces, Andrea, an empathic warrior with divine power, fights to protect the scattered remnants of humanity while dealing with crushing grief over the loss of James, her closest ally and love. Facing enemies from both Hell and, shockingly, Heaven itself, Andrea and her allies battle physical, emotional, and existential threats in a story that is as much about survival and loyalty as it is about revenge and destiny.
From the start of the book, I was sucked right into the raw heartbreak and tension that colored the opening scenes. Andrea hiding in the woods, Nicholas waiting hopelessly for a brother who would never return, absolutely broke my heart. Brothers’ writing doesn’t shy away from tough emotions; he lets you sit with the grief. The little details, like Andrea wearing James’s dog tags and Nicholas clasping her blood-smeared hands, felt so vivid, like I could smell the rain and hear the distant crackling of that broken radio. It’s rare to find apocalyptic fiction that balances action with such emotional weight without feeling corny, but Brothers nails it here.
As the book powers ahead, the action ramps up in a huge way, and honestly, it’s thrilling. Chapter 2 gave me major chills with Samyaza and Q’sabel hunting humans like predators on the prowl. The horror of it, the way the humans are sorted into “worthy” and “not” categories, was seriously disturbing. And yet, I couldn’t look away. Brothers has this way of describing violence that’s brutal without being gratuitous. He leaves just enough space for your imagination to fill in the worst parts. The monsters, the twisted demons like Samyaza, and the reality of werebeasts felt so real I sometimes had to glance over my shoulder while reading. It’s not just cheap scares either; there’s a heavy feeling of moral collapse that hits deeper than just blood and guts.
What really stayed with me, though, were the quiet moments that showed how much Andrea had changed. When she almost loses control while facing the DeMinistry, I felt this weird mix of awe and sadness. She’s powerful, yeah, but she’s also deeply broken. When Lucifer’s disembodied voice talks about using her pain for his purposes, it hit me like a punch. Brothers doesn’t just give us a badass heroine; he shows us the wreckage inside her. The scene where Andrea uses Michael’s sword to mercy-kill the demon Belphegor was haunting and powerful. Mercy through destruction. It’s not just “good vs evil” in this world; it’s messy, it’s complicated, and it makes you think about how trauma reshapes a person.
Keepers and Destinies: The Reckoning is a wild, emotional ride that’s both exhilarating and gut-wrenching. Carl F. Brothers gives readers an action-packed story filled with deep characters, twisted villains, and moments that punch you right in the soul. I’d absolutely recommend this book to readers who love supernatural thrillers, gritty apocalyptic tales, or character-driven fantasy where the battles outside mirror the battles inside.
Pages: 306 | ASIN : B0BBYVD1JD
The Tempests of Time
Lloyd Jeffries’ The Tempests of Time, the fourth entry in the Ages of Malice series, is a wild, relentless ride through apocalyptic landscapes, theological conflicts, and the clash of immortals. The novel follows Emery Merrick, a former journalist whose life is tangled with ancient prophecies, political upheaval, and the enigmatic, menacing figure of Cain, the biblical first murderer, now a world-dominating force. The story unfolds with unrelenting chaos: nuclear annihilation, supernatural torment, desperate love, and an ever-looming battle between forces greater than humanity can comprehend.
Jeffries’ writing is sharp, cinematic, and unafraid to dive deep into the grotesque. Some passages feel like a fever dream, especially in the opening where Emery is trapped in a visceral, never-ending cycle of pain and resurrection, torn apart by demons only to be made whole again. The horror is relentless, the descriptions unflinching: “They rip out all my teeth… My mouth fills again with teeth”. It’s brutal, but it lets you know that this story doesn’t do half-measures. While some moments feel excessive in their grimness, they also carry an intensity that makes the story hard to look away from.
Yet, for all its darkness, The Tempests of Time isn’t just about suffering. Jeffries weaves in biting humor and deep philosophical musings. Bill, a stoner with a surprising depth, offers bizarre but compelling insights on existence: “Ever notice how everything starts with nothing?” he ponders. “Take Emery, an artist with the written word, who stares at the nothingness of a blank page.” This contrast between absurdity and existential weight is one of the book’s strengths. Meanwhile, Cain is a fantastic charismatic villain. He’s smooth, chilling, and eerily persuasive, playing the long game with a patience that spans centuries. His interactions with Emery are fascinating, particularly when he dismisses mortal struggles with the nonchalance of a being who has seen it all before.
The book can feel overwhelming at times. There’s so much going on. Biblical mythology, history, dystopian warfare, supernatural horror. The breakneck pacing means that quieter character moments, like Emery’s love for Rhyme, are often overshadowed by the grander conflicts. This isn’t necessarily a flaw, it’s part of the novel’s DNA.
The Tempests of Time is not for the faint of heart. It’s a book for readers who like their fiction dense, intense, and thought-provoking. If you enjoy apocalyptic thrillers with theological depth, visceral horror, and rapid-fire action, this book is for you.
Pages: 359 | ASIN : B0DZ15ZL91
Jorsa
Eric Swanson’s Jorsa invites readers into a thrilling fantasy adventure brimming with heart, danger, and discovery. At its center is Jorsa, a blue-skinned elf on a desperate quest to rescue his captured friends from the clutches of the sinister Tilif. Along the way, Jorsa ventures through shadowy forests and perilous caves, confronting goblins and other fearsome creatures. Betrayals test his resolve, while unexpected moments reveal the transformative power of love.
Swanson’s narrative seamlessly blends themes of loyalty, courage, and redemption, anchoring the story in universal truths while maintaining its fantastical allure. The world of Higherland is a stunning creation, a realm both familiar and strange, populated by enchanting beings and complex societies. The interactions among elves, humans, and dwarves introduce a rich socio-political layer, exploring unity and division alongside thought-provoking reflections on power, sacrifice, and love.
The novel excels in character development, with Jorsa evolving from an inexperienced adventurer into a figure of resilience and wisdom. Each chapter deepens the reader’s understanding of his journey, balancing moments of action-packed intensity with quieter, introspective passages that probe the psyche of its characters. This dynamic pacing ensures a narrative that remains both exciting and emotionally resonant. Swanson’s writing style captivates with its fluidity and energy. His skillful use of suspense, coupled with vivid dialogue, breathes life into the story’s cast of characters. Meanwhile, the meticulous world-building offers an immersive experience, painting Higherland as a place brimming with hidden secrets and layered histories. These elements not only enhance the current narrative but promise a strong foundation for the series to come.
Jorsa, by Eric Swanson, stands out as a noteworthy addition to the fantasy genre. Its intricate plot, well-rounded characters, and lush setting converge to create a memorable reading experience. With its exploration of moral dilemmas and vibrant storytelling, Swanson’s novel comes highly recommended for fantasy enthusiasts eager to embark on a fresh, compelling series.
Pages: 200 | ASIN : B0DL2QW5MW
Doing a Great Deed
Jorsa follows a man who was banished after a failed attempt to dethrone the King and a blue elf warrior who is fighting to restore the balance of power in the kingdom. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
I got inspiration from the Bible. Some people may criticize my Christian allegory, but I wanted to write something that gives a picture of sin and how the Holy Spirit guides us when we face evil. I wanted the main character to describe our human condition. There are evil forces outside of us, and there will be struggles in our lives. There will be times when it seems like we are blind, and we need others to help us. But through all the difficult times, we have the help of the Holy Spirit.
I found your characters to be incredibly engaging. Which character in the novel do you feel you relate to more and why?
I can relate to the main character, Jorsa. I don’t feel like I have the same courage, but he goes through struggles with temptations in the book and feels like a failure. I can relate to the struggle with failure and the need to find affirmation in doing a great deed. He’s the target of Tilif, not because he has done a heroic deed, but for wanting to follow Karlek. He struggles to have a personal experience with the King, and it comes in the book. As Christian believers, we all should want a personal touch of God. Once we get a personal experience, it changes cowards into soldiers.
How long did it take you to imagine, draft, and write the world your characters live in?
I rewrote a previous novel I had written about 10 years ago. A friend challenged me to write more like C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. They both wrote about spiritual things in their novels without having to say, “Now this is Jesus.” I hope the imagery comes through in the book. The total time of the rewrite took a few years.
What is the next book that you are working on, and when will it be available?
I plan on rewriting another novel, making it into a sequel to Jorsa. The working title is Outcast. I’m very excited about the sequel, where I have more imagery of spiritual warfare and incorporate many of the same characters.
Author Links: GoodReads | X (Twitter) | Website | Amazon
Torish discovered the danger of envy when he attempted to overthrow the righteous king, Karlek. Vihaa was his final destination, a barren wasteland where he would live out the rest of his days. But in his dungeon, a plan formed when Susan mysteriously came into his life, giving him a son named Tilif.
Tilif escaped Vihaa, hoping to recapture his father’s glory. But his departure was anticlimactic when two elves shot arrows into his eyes. Now, with the help of Susan, goblins and poliths, Tilif is looking for a way to regain his eyesight and rescue his father. But those who are true to Karlek stands in his way.
Jorsa, a blue elf, joins in an epic battle of good versus evil, where he gets thrust into a leadership role after Tilif kidnaps those whom he loves. It appears he’s all alone against forces beyond his strength. But when it looks like overwhelming odds, Lef, an Island dweller, comes to his aid.
With Lef, Jorsa must rescue his friends, keep Tilif blind, and prevent his evil scheme of rescuing his father, Torish, from Vihaa.
Will Jorsa rescue his friends? Will Tilif regain his eyesight? These questions, and more, are answered in this epic tale.
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LITERARY TITAN 