David F. Gray

2 hrs · 

Just got the first review for Gamble's Run. Onward and Upward! https://www.amazon.com/…/B07FM…/ref=cm_cr_dp_d_show_all_btm…

That indescribable feeling you get when you hold your just published novel in you hands for the very first time.

A little over the top, maybe, but I couldn't help myself.

4 days and counting.  Release date is this Friday, July 20th.  Gamble's Run ends one long journey and begins another.  http://www.hellboundbookspublishing.com/gamblesrun.html

Gamble's Run is now available for pre-order!!!  And we continue to barrel to the July 20th release date.  My author's page is up and running at Hellbound books. Also, a big THANK YOU to James Longmore for the wonderful quote.  Here's the link.
http://www.hellboundbookspublishing.com/authorpage_D.Gray.html

Here's the updated promo for Gamble's Run with the new cover art by Andrew Post.  Release date is July 20th. 

Got the cover art today!  I think it looks amazing. It both recreates a key scene from the book and captures the overall mood of the story.  My heartfelt thanks to artist Andrew Post for creating it and to James Longmore, owner of Hellbound Books for taking such care of both the book and cover art.  The release date is set.  Look for Gamble's Run on July 20th.  Pre-orders will start sooner.  Stay tuned!

Gamble's Run is on schedule for a mid-July release.  Hard to be believe that its seven year journey to publication is nearly complete.  Of course, a new journey starts...sales, marketing and promotion.  Here's one last excerpt before its released, from chapter 5.

“I know that Melody needs my help,” said Garrett.  “I know that whoever or whatever John Gamble is, he stole a big chunk of my life.”  He met Melinda’s eyes and suddenly realized that he had just made his decision.  “And I know that I’m going to get her back.  I don’t care what it costs me, Melinda.  I’m going to save her.”  Melinda looked away again.  Garrett pressed his advantage.

“Who is John Gamble?  I know how much you hate me, but you must know that I’m going to do everything I can to save her.  Who is he, Melinda?”  Melinda gripped the bat until her fingers went white.  Garrett could see that her hatred of him was going toe-to-toe with her fear for her daughter.  He waited, but before she could answer, a black Volvo came screeching to a halt behind him.  He turned, knowing exactly what he would see.  Sure enough, Darrin Chance was climbing out of his car.  His eyes were blazing, and his mouth was etched into a feral snarl.  He slammed his door shut and stormed toward him.

“I warned you,” he shouted, pointing at Garrett.  “Now I’m going to take you apart.  Mom, go inside.”

“Stay where you are, boy!”  Darrin jerked to a stop. 

“Get inside, Mom,” he said again.

“You stay right there,” ordered Melinda.  “I mean it now.  Don’t you come any closer.”

“Mom…”

“Hush,” snapped Melinda.  She turned her attention back to Garrett. 

“You save my baby,” she said in a low, dangerous voice.  “You give me your word.”

“I’ll save her,” said Garrett.  “Not for you, and not for me, but for her.  I love her.  I always have, and I always will.” 

“LIAR!”  This was from Darrin.

“Shut up, boy,” snapped Melinda.  She turned back to Garrett.

“You’ll have to go back to Florida,” she said, “back to where you were.”  Garrett nodded.  He knew as much. 

“Why?  What’s down there?” 

“Our past,” whispered Melinda.  Garrett could see that she was struggling with the words.  It was as if something was fighting her.  “And our future.  I thought that when she came back, she might…but now…” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” said Melinda.  “When you get there, look for…Gamble’s Run.”  Sweat was starting to bead on her forehead.

“‘Gamble’s Run’?  As in John Gamble?”  Melinda nodded, and then winced.  She rubbed her chest.  “Are you all right?” 

“Gamble’s Run.  Do you understand?  Find…Gamble’s Run.”  She backed away, gasping for breath.  “That’s…all I can tell you.  Now get out of here, and don’t you ever come back.”  Garrett opened his mouth, but Melinda had already shut the door.  He stared after her for long seconds.  Then he turned to leave.  Darrin was still there, and he was still angry.  Garrett eased down the porch steps, hoping that the oldest Chance son would have the good sense to leave him alone.  Of course, he did not.  As Garrett made to pass him, he grabbed his arm.

“My turn,” he growled.  His other hand curled into a fist, and he pulled it back, ready to strike. 

What happened next would haunt Garrett for the rest of his life.  The instant Darrin touched him, he felt the darkness seethe.  It boiled up, triggering a kind of anger that he had never known.  Then a small part of it flew out of him.  He could almost see it as lanced away and flew straight into Darrin.  Part of him was horrified, but another part was grimly satisfied.  He felt his mouth curl into a sneer.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” he rasped.  Darrin probably did not even hear him.  He released his grip on Garrett’s arm and stumbled away, his hands clawing at his chest. 

“What did you do to me?” he screamed.  “Dear God, what did you do?”  At that instant, the door flew open.  Melinda stood there, only now instead of a bat, she was holding a shotgun.  She pointed it straight at him. 

Gamble's Run is still on schedule for a July 2018 release.  The cover art should be done soon and I'll be sharing it here.  In the meantime, here is a short excerpt from my short story, The Slave Canal.  This is the story that eventually became Gamble's Run, although the  main character, Toby Gamble, does not appear in the novel.  Also, for anyone looking for some good stories, might I recommend Shopping List 1 & 2 from Hellbound Books.  I have the distinct pleasure of having stories in both volumes along with several other excellent writers.  They're worth checking out.
http://www.hellboundbookspublishing.com/

Anyway, here's a brief look at The Slave Canal.

      The water bubbles.  It’s a sickly gurgle, like mucus sliding down a sick man’s throat.  It might be a gator, but I doubt it.  I’ve got maybe thirty minutes of light left.  After that…

     Sinkholes…got to remember the sinkholes. 

     My name is Toby Gamble.  I have a research grant from the University of Florida where I also teach history.  My one claim to fame is my great, great, uh, (one two, James, Jebidiah, three), great, great grandfather.  John Gamble was a rich and powerful man in north Florida during the mid 1800’s.  It was old John who commissioned the digging of what became known as the Slave Canal, although there have been recent efforts to rename it the Cotton Run Canal.  Slave Canal is considered by the snot nosed bureaucrats at Tallahassee to be offensive.  (Stay on task, Toby!) 

     Okay, I’m good. 

     John Gamble, along with some of his cronies, wanted a short cut between rivers to get their cotton to market faster.  Now that I’m here, floating in the actual canal, I can only imagine the agony his slaves must have endured digging it.  How many of them died here, left to rot in the water?  How many unmarked graves am I floating above?  I’ve got a pretty good idea. 

     The canal, as it exists today, is only about thirty feet wide, and in some places barely a foot deep.  It failed big time.  The railroad came and took over transportation duties.  Not long after, the civil war broke out, and that took care of the slaves...the ones still alive at any rate.  The canal was abandoned, but it's still there, for anyone who wants to find it. 

     I’d heard stories all my life of course, but I never had the desire to see it.  As far as I’m concerned, that part of my family history is best forgotten.  Then my boss got the idea that it would be grand for me to publish a paper on it.  You can put a personal spin on it, Toby.  Something like that could get you noticed.  Get the department noticed, that’s what she meant.  Carol Grady, Ph.D., was always looking for ways to boost her funding.

    I decided to paddle the canal for a day, just to get a feel for it.  After that I would dig around in my family archives.  I had no doubt that I’d find plenty of letters from and about old John...enough to reference a fairly impressive paper.  Misgivings aside, Carol got to me.  The idea of a little attention from the academic community sounded nice, so I packed some food in a knapsack, rented a canoe and took off.

     It took me hours to find it.  There’s no sign that says ‘Exit HERE for Slave Canal’.  The entrance is clogged with vegetation, and from the main river (the Wacissia, if you’re interested), it’s practically invisible.  I launched my canoe at seven in the morning and finally found the canal at around two.  I almost gave up.  God, why didn’t I just give up?

     The Wacissia wasn’t crowded...it never is this time of year...and the canal was completely abandoned.  It’s a favorite for day trips during the summer, but the tourist trade dies down after November.  I had a jacket, but by noon the temperature was over eighty.  Thank God for Florida winters.  I discovered the entrance and forced my canoe through. 

     I didn’t know exactly what to expect, but I was totally unprepared for the sheer beauty of the place.  Even in the winter, the banks were covered with lush green undergrowth.  Spanish moss hung from the trees that lined both sides of the canal.  The water was crystal clear, thanks to the springs that continuously fed it.  As I entered the head of the canal, I could not shake the impression that I had somehow slipped back through time.  The world I knew faded, although every now and then a passenger jet would trace a line across the cloudless sky.

     I got in.  I couldn’t get out.  Am I getting ahead of myself?  Probably, but the light is fading faster now.  I spent the day navigating the canal, and when it was time to go home, I found out that I was lost.  Understand; the canal runs in a straight line.  There are no mazelike passages, just a single wide thoroughfare.  I paddled a few miles, turned around and came back. 

     That was two days ago.  I can’t find my way back to the Wacissia.  The more I search for the way out, the more confusing everything gets.  I can feel the way out.  I know it's there, but I’ve come to understand it is now closed to me forever.

     I’m really scared.

 

Here's another brief preview of Gamble's Run, coming soon from Hellbound Books Publishing. http://www.hellboundbookspublishing.com/

     

     Garrett. 

     Now he did cry out, only this time in pain.  Everything seemed to go green.  It only lasted for a second, but then violent purple and green spots exploded before his eyes.  The light show was followed immediately by the sensation of razor thin needles stabbing into his forehead.

     Garrett.  You have to concentrate.  I…don’t have a lot of time. 

     The green flash came again, followed on its heels by the searing pain, although now both seemed to fade a little faster.  He realized two things;  the voice was in his mind, and it was not his own.

     “Wh-a-at?”  It was all he could manage.

     Help me, Garrett.  Please help me. 

     “Who…who are…”  Then he managed to match the voice in his mind with one in his memory.   “Melody?  Mel, is that you?”  He superimposed his memory of Melody’s shape over the dark figure.  It was a perfect match.  His terror fled, replaced by pure joy.  His wife had come home!  He struggled to get out of the chair.  “Oh God Mel, I’ve missed you so much!”  Something pressed hard against his chest and forced him back.

     Garrett, find me.  He’s…he’s eating me alive.  Please, help me!  The flash and the pain came again, but now Garrett barely noticed.  He struggled against the unseen force that was holding him down.   

     “Melody,” he gasped.  “What’s happening?” 

     Oh God, he’s here.  There was panic in the voice now, and terror.  Find me, Garrett.  Please, if you ever loved me, find me!  The scream echoed through his mind, once again accompanied by both light and pain.  He grabbed his head and screamed as well.  Through the hurricane of agony came Melody’s final message.  Gamble!  John…Gamble! 

     “MELODY!”  His vision cleared and he looked toward the door.  The figure…Melody…was writhing in agony.  She jerked back and forth, held in the invisible grip of something both powerful and terrible.  Her arms were flung outward, as if she was trying to grab the door to keep from being dragged away.  Garrett lunged forward, struggling to get out of the chair.  “MELODY!"  The force that was pinning him to his chair pushed him back, hard.  He wheezed, trying to gulp in another breath.   

     “STAY.”  This voice did not come from inside his head, and it did not belong to Melody.  It was loud and male and vile.  The picture on the table went flying across the room.  It crashed into the wall, shattering both frame and glass.

     “STAY.”  Garrett had no choice.  Whatever was holding him down was relentless.  He heard Melody scream again, only this time she seemed impossibly far away. 

     “M-m-mel…”  It was all he could manage.  Incredibly the weight increased.  It forced the air from his lungs.  He did not have the strength to take another breath.   

     “STAY.”   He gagged.  He thrashed about in the chair, fighting to get free, but it was useless.   

     “STAY.”  He could not even scream as he tumbled into a deep, dark sinkhole that led straight to oblivion.

I spent a large part of  the past three days proofing Gamble's Run.  Granted, the editors at Hellbound Books Publishing have given it an excellent scrubbing but this was my last chance to make any changes. 
I finally finished a few hours ago with a mild headache and a list of 23 corrections.  I was tempted to read it again but there comes a time when you have to walk away and let your work stand.  If I had started another round of editing I would have started second guessing myself and re-writing things that did not need to be changed.

  It's time to let it go and leave it in Hellbound's capable hands.

I did a very 'authorish' thing today.  I grabbed my favorite booth in my favorite lunch spot and spent the afternoon going over the Gamble's Run galley proof.  I've never done anything like that before.  It was a blast.  I also got a lot of work done.  I usually like quiet when working, but the steady ambient noise of people talking, the clatter of plates and the smell of good food seemed to help me focus.  If you are in the Tampa Bay area, or plan on visiting. Trips Diner is a great place to hang out.  The people are friendly and the food is good.  My thanks to the staff for letting me hang out.  https://tripsdiner.com/

Just got the edited galley proof for Gamble's Run.  Getting very close. 

So you write your novel, rewrite it, rewrite it again, and polish it until it gleams.  Then you put together a proposal and send it off to a publisher.  They ask to see the completed manuscript so you give it one final polish and submit it.  Its accepted and you do a happy dance, convinced that you and you alone have manged to compose the perfect manuscript... 
...until you get the edited manuscript back and see hundreds of red marks denoting corrections.  When I first thumbed through it I had a serious flashback to grade school, namely getting my spelling test returned with the same type of red marks. 
It's a humbling experience.   

I've been asked by the folks at Hellbound Books Publishing for some input for the cover art for Gamble's Run.  While I'm not a graphics artist, I am a very visual person.  My writing tends to reflect that.  Still, coming up with a concept for a cover is a little intimidating.  How do you take a 100,000 word novel and distill it down to a single image that will grab the attention of a potential reader?       

     We're just weeks away from the release of Gamble's Run.  It's been an interesting journey that is nowhere near finished.  Before it was accepted by Hellbound Books Publishing, GR  had been rejected by three other publishers.  Now when you are a writer, rejection is a part of the job description.  Its never easy, but you work though it, tinker with your work to make it better, and move on.
     Then there is that sense of satisfaction and accomplishment when it is finally accepted (Thank you James Longmore!)  That moment when you realize that someone else not only liked your work but liked it enough to take on the expense of publishing it...well, there's nothing like it.  For me, if felt like climbing an impossibly high mountain and finally reaching the summit,  Of course, when you reach that summit, you look up and see an even higher mountain waiting for you called DISTRIBUTION AND SALES, and let me tell you, that's one mean hunk of rock. 
     Which leads me to my current location in this long, difficult but amazing journey.  Any writer worth his or her salt puts their heart and soul into their stories.  When those stories are finally published there is the initial excitement of knowing that others...hopefully many others...are going to be reading something that you labored so hard to create.
     The downside to that is realizing that others....possibly many others....are going to be reading something that you have labored so hard to create.  A very personal and private part of you is now out there for anyone and everyone to see.  Intellectually you know that you can't please everyone, but you fervently hope that you will please at least someone.. And of course, there's  that gnawing fear in the back of your mind that you won't please anyone.
     I write what I would want to read.  That's probably not going to change.  I don't do trends.  I don't care for conflicted vampires with souls or shuffling zombies (although to be fair a hoard of zombies does make a brief cameo appearance in Gamble's Run).  We tend to fear what we don't understand, and I like to write about those unknown and unknowable terrors.
     To sum up, the apprehension of putting yourself out there can be powerful, but you cannot allow it to dictate what you write.  As writers, we open ourselves up to our audience through our work.  This makes us vulnerable.  Its difficult and uncomfortable but in the end its the only way to tell a good story. 
     A final thought to writers who are currently looking for a publisher.  NEVER pay to get your work published.  Granted a few have made good money by self publishing but they are the exception, not the rule.  If your work isn't good enough for a publisher who will pay you, and not the other way around, then go back to work and make it better.
     Enough rambling.  I'm going back to work.   

A third very brief excerpt from Gamble's Run, coming soon from Hellbound Books Publishing.
www.hellboundbookspublishing.com

    

     He was in a nightmare from which he could not escape.  Great waves of boiling darkness closed in on all sides, dragging him down into oblivion.  A tiny part of Garrett's mind understood that he was unconscious.  He fought against the darkness that imprisoned him, tearing at it.  Finally, a dim light flared in his mind.  He reached for it, knowing that it was his only way out of the darkness.  He grabbed the light with his mind and squeezed.  Slowly, the darkness receded.  It was a long, painful process, but finally he managed to open his eyes. 

     He was still reclined in his chair, only now the late evening sunlight poured through the living room window, forcing him to squint.  He glanced at his watch and saw that it was just after six.  He had been out for at least an entire day.  The sun's warm autumn glow mocked him.  He felt dirty...defiled. 

     “Melllllllll.”  He could barely manage a raw hiss.  His throat was parched, and his dry tongue felt as if it had doubled in size.  He moved it around in his mouth, trying to get his saliva flowing.  After a few seconds he succeeded.  He tried to turn his head but his neck was stiff and sore.  Every muscle in his body ached.  He groaned and tried to sit up, but suddenly his damaged leg made itself known.

     “Arrrrrrgh.”  Tears squirted from his eyes.  It felt as if molten metal was being injected straight into his knee.  Suddenly he began to weep and in an instant he lost all control.  He sobbed, gulping in the air and expelling it almost immediately. 

     It wasn’t the physical pain.  He had dealt with that for over a year and had its measure.  His spirit was in torment.  A raging darkness, much like the darkness of his dream, had somehow rooted itself deep inside of him.  He could feel it gnawing at his soul, or life force, or whatever it was that made him a unique being.                

       In the course of a single night, Garrett’s world had been turned inside out.  He had encountered something that was not only beyond his experience but beyond his belief.  He had never been able to acknowledge the existence of anything beyond the limits of his physical senses.  In an instant, that belief had been turned into a pile of rubble that now lay at his metaphysical feet.        

Off topic, and only indirectly related to Gamble's Run, but this quote has been a constant source of encouragement for me.
"It's not what a man is, but what he can become that matters. And it's never too late (or too early for that matter) to start becoming."
Lionel Barrymore

Where do story ideas come from?  The answer to that question is unique for each story.  In the case of Gamble's Run, the idea began in 2006 with a short article in The Ledger, a small local newspaper.  It featured a little known historical site called the Slave Canal.  The only reason it was in the news at all was because legislation had been introduced to rename it the Cotton Run Canal.  The name Slave Canal had been deemed 'racially insensitive'.  The idea was strongly opposed by the local residents, many of whom were descendants of the slaves who dug the canal.  Their reply...Don't Mess With Our History!  The idea was quickly abandoned.
That article resulted in a short story called The Slave Canal.  A few years later, the idea for Gamble's Run was fully formed.  If you're interested, here's the link to the original article.http://www.theledger.com/news/20060115/residents-dont-rewrite-slave-canal-history

The Gamble's Run Tagline?
The Waters Run Deep.

Here's the back jacket blurb for Gamble's Run.

     Reeling from the tragic loss of his infant daughter Molly and the disappearance of his wife

Melody, Garrett Webb begins a journey that will ultimately bring him to a place called Gamble's Run, a long abandoned canal hidden deep in central Florida.  If he has any hope of finding his wife he must penetrate the mysteries surrounding the canal and confront the evil that has festered there for uncounted centuries.  He will make deadly enemies, but he will also gain steadfast friends and allies.  Together they will confront a power that exists beyond time and space.      

      Unearthly forces clash in ancient conflict with a single question hanging in the balance: What dwells beneath the waters of Gamble's Run? 

Here's another brief excerpt from Gamble's Run, coming soon from Hellbound Books Publishing.  www.hellboundbookspublishing.com

     Waking up was always devastating, but for a few brief moments, in some distant reality, he would be reunited with the only two people he truly loved.  He reached down, grabbed the recliner’s lever and pulled it forward.  The footrest slid down and his feet touched the floor.  He grabbed his cane and made to stand...        

      …and froze.

     His apartment was small; a cramped living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom.  The bathroom was off of the bedroom and the kitchen was to the right of the front...and only... door.  There was not much furniture; just his chair, a cheap couch and a couple of end tables.  A small dinette set was placed next to the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.  He could easily see the front door and just as easily see the human shaped silhouette standing there.  His heart slammed against his chest as he realized that he was not alone. 

     I’m being robbed, he thought wildly.  He gripped his cane, knowing that with his bad leg he was defenseless against a determined attack.  He opened his mouth…whether to scream in terror or challenge he would never know…but all that came out was a raspy hiss.  His throat was bone dry. 

     The dark figure did not move.  Neither did Garrett.  I’m dreaming, he thought, trying desperately to believe it.  Of course I’m still dreaming.  He concentrated, trying to bring himself to full consciousness.  Nothing changed.  His aching leg throbbed in time with his heart.  That was enough to tell him that he was awake. 

     And still the dark figure did not move.  Garrett knew that whoever it was could certainly see him.  The glow from the parking lot was dim but adequate.  The seconds ticked away.  Finally, he managed to speak.

     “I don’t have much,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “Just take what you want and go.  Please.”  His voice was weak and shaky and he winced in shame.  He took a deep breath.  “Just get out.”  He glanced at the table and then remembered that his cell phone was in his jeans pocket.  He eased his left hand toward it but suddenly the figure moved and Garrett had to gulp down a scream.  It did not come forward, or step backward or even sideways.  It shifted.  Garrett suddenly got the insane idea that it had stayed in the same place while the entire universe moved past it. 

     “Please,” Garrett pleaded.  Something was very wrong with this intruder.  “What do you want?” 

Ever since I can remember, I have had a love for ghost stories, but at the age of 13, I stumbled across a volume of short stories called The Shadow Over Innsmouth, and other tales of horror by H.P. Lovecraft.  I was blown away!  Gothic haunted houses gave way to lurkers in shadows that were connected to incomprehensible (and unspeakable) cosmic horrors.  To say that this collection had an influence on my writing would be a gross understatement.  All of my work, including Gamble's Run, can trace its lineage back to this trade paperback. 

Here are some pictures of the actual Slave Canal as it is today.
Source: Green Wave Forum

A short promo for Gamble's Run, coming soon from Hellbound Books Publishing.  www.hellboundbookspublishing.com

Gamble's Run is being published by Hellbound Books Publishing.  My thanks to owner James Longmore and the entire Hellbound family.  They do it right.  www.hellboundbookspublishing.com

Here's the first page or so from Gamble's Run.  Interested?  It's due out in July, 2018, from the good people at Hellbound Books.www.hellboundbookspublishing.com

     

     Garrett Webb awoke with a start, his heart pounding.  He wiped away the thin sheen of sweat that covered his forehead as he struggled to regain full awareness.  The nightmare that had been tormenting him vanished in a dark puff of dream smoke, leaving him with nothing more than a fading impression of being slowly smothered. 

     The only light came from the glowing red numbers of small clock perched on the nightstand beside his queen sized bed.  He barely had time to see that it was 4:05 a.m. before they winked out.  An instant later, his bed lurched sideways and slammed into the wall.  His left shoulder struck the wall at an awkward angle, causing him to cry out in both pain and shock.  Instinctively he reached out for the woman sleeping next to him.        

     “Mel?  MEL!”  An instant later, his wife Melody cried out as she too was brutally dragged back into consciousness.  Her arm flailed out, slapping him hard on his stomach.  He was shirtless and her fingernails scraped along his ribs, leaving four thin bloody scratches.  The bed lurched again.   

     “MOLLY,” she screamed.  Of course her first thought was for their ten month old daughter.  On cue, Molly started crying.  Husband and wife struggled to get out of bed, but suddenly the floor tilted.  The bed slid along the wall, away from Molly's bedroom, and stopped under the window that overlooked the lake just outside their petite home.  The lake had dried up during the long drought that gripped central Florida and all that was left was a hard, cracked bed.     

          “MOLLY,” screamed Melody again.  The house answered them with another groan and suddenly the window shattered.  Shards of glass pummeled them.  If they had been looking up, they would have been blinded.  As it was, they sustained dozens of painful, shallow cuts.

    “Garrett!  What’s happening?”  Garrett opened his mouth to say that he had no idea, but suddenly a wall of dirt followed the glass.  He covered his eyes and mouth and rolled sideways as the dirt piled onto the bed.  Melody screamed again.  She scrambled off the bed and fell to the floor.  Then she began to crawl toward the bedroom door. 

     “MEL!  WAIT!” 

     “MOLLY!”  Melody’s only thought now was for her daughter.  In the next bedroom, Molly’s cries became screams.  The tiny wood frame house shook as dirt continued to pour through the bedroom window. 

The slaves that dug the canal were transported to the site via riverboat, much like this one.  One of those boats, the Shamrock, figures prominently in Gamble's Run. 
Source: Florida Memory

Gamble's Run is based on a short story I wrote years ago called The Slave Canal, which in turn is based on a real placed called, surprisingly, the Slave Canal.  Hidden away in central Florida, the canal was the brain child of a wealthy plantation owner named John Gamble.  Gamble was a part of a loose consortium of landowners and businessmen who needed a faster way to get their cotton to the Gulf of Mexico.  Poor roads made transportation difficult and often impossible.  The Wacissia, the nearest river, had a bad habit of disappearing underground for several miles at a stretch.  It ended in a maze like swamp that the locals called, charmingly enough, The Warriors.

     Gamble commissioned the canal in 1831.  The plan was to link the Wacissia with the Aucilla River, which flowed unobstructed to the Gulf.  The canal would be about two and a half miles long and deep enough to allow the barges to pass.  They could then make the run to the gulf in record time.

     It was a devastating failure.  The canal had to be dug by hand, and that meant that it had to be dug by slaves.  From the beginning, the canal did not work, mainly because it was not deep enough.  During the dry season, the water level sank so low that it was next to impossible to get the barges through.  They kept getting hung up on the canal bed, not to mention the constantly falling branches from the trees that lined both banks.  

     Not long after the canal was finished, the railroad appeared and took over the transportation duties from the barges.  A few decades later, the Civil War broke out, after which Gamble was finished.  The canal is still there today, a silent indictment to his folly.
     Gamble's Run uses the Slave Canal as a setting for a tale of horror, loyalty, hatred, redemption and above all, unconditional love.