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The Soul of the World: Book I

David Skato

Croatoan Publishing LLC,

Copyright © 2021 David Skato

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: David Skato/Sarah Joy

Printed in the United States of America

For Omarion, Sarah, and Helena. Always believe in what you do wholeheartedly. If your heart is not in it, then stay out of it. Stay true to what you do, and the world is yours.

"The shadow followed him on a moonless night.

The dark that couldn't be seen by light

A man of men who's soul is lost

The choices to rise above at cost

Regret, hurt, anger, was the trade

So many choices, non good, non bad, just choices made"

Choice moon - By David Skato


Title Page



















About The Author

Books In This Series


Creating something that the world will view is never easy. It is as if a child sculpted by you will go forth and be judged. No one wants to be told their child is no good or less than par. But as a creator, we throw our children in the wind and hope they find a home in the hearts of many. This book starts a story of many characters that live within me. These stories must be told for me to find peace. Each word that lands on the page represent freedom for my overpacked mind. If you ever wonder why I write, that is the reason. I want people to enjoy the stories that I hold deep, but most of all, it's for freedom.

I will never pretend to be the greatest, prominent, or most prolific, but I know that what I write means everything to me. These are worlds from beyond that exist in some time and space. I was blessed to have the privilege to view these other dimensions. Make no mistake, these stories are fiction in this universe but an absolute fact in another. With that, my family and new-found friends, I present to you, Famous. Book 1 of 5 in "The soul of the world" universe.


A single drop of rain pierces the night sky, free falling before landing on a carbon-grey hat perched atop an older woman's head as she walks up the stairs of a mid-city church in downtown Atlanta.  The neo-gothic architecture provides heavenly high steeples, dark lancet windows, giving the church an eerie, sinister feeling.   Aged grey, stone Gargoyles, perch on the corners of the church, fixed in a forever squatting position, looking down on all who entered. Leaving the question; Is their presence welcome or warning?  Lightning slices across the sky, revealing menacing dark clouds, startling the woman and causing her to look up suddenly. Thunder rumbles loudly above, giving off the impression that the angry, swirling thunderclouds above were clinching its stomach, waiting until the pain becomes too unbearable before letting go a monstrous downpour.

Shaking off a brief moment of weakness, the woman ignores the thunder and continues into the cathedral, pushing the heavy doors open with both hands. The inside of the church was dark, with the exceptions of a little light filtering through the lancet windows illuminating the unusual interior. The pews were in line, but half of them were missing or broken. What looked like years of dust laced the entire floor with one clearly walked path in which the woman, not needing any light, walked. This walk was one all too familiar as she navigated the turns without erroring a single step. She arrived at the back of the building, where she descends a short spiral staircase that leads to another hallway hosting a small room with a small closet. The room was made of grey stone except for the wooden doors. The beautiful masonry of this place looks as if it was made by the hands of a true artist, though a quite unusual artist.

The woman opens the closet and pulls out a white gown, rattling the remaining hangers from the now empty closet. She lays it across the arm of a chair and starts to take off her clothes.  The woman's ribs pressed against her wrinkly, liver-spotted skin gave her the look of a malnourished chicken without feathers.  Her breast, though tiny, sagged and looked as if they'd served no purpose motherly nor sexually for decades.

After draping the dress over her ghastly body, she heads down the hall until she reaches a third wooden door and pushes it open.

In the room, three ladies in matching white gowns stand around what looks to be a sixteenth-century bathtub.  Candlelight flickers to illuminate symbols that appear to be gibberish aligning the stone walls. This place is old. The kind of old that makes you wonder how it is still standing, and in the middle of the city. Flickering light from an open door on the far side of the room displays a sensual woman's silhouette.  The old woman finally speaks, "Is she ready?"  Another one of the ladies nod.

A completely naked young woman holds a folded blood-red garment as she exits the small room and slowly walks towards the old women. Her perfectly manicured feet press firmly against the marble floor as her tightly sculptured body holds firm with each step. The beautiful woman places the garment in the hands of one of the women and puts one foot into the tub, grimacing as her ankle

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