Good day to all, ladies, gents. Thank you for reading my first ever blog post. I feel really stupid right now, nervous, insecure, so bear with me. The time has come for me to become a writer while simultaneously breaking the life time habits of an introvert. Please comment and leave thoughts, tips, whatever. I don't care, just so I know somebody somewhere is reading this. Makes me feel good :D

I'm writing a short story, and my posts will mainly be about how absolutely exhausting and wonderfully time consuming it will be. I may sneak some stuff in about my two sons and my husband, my three children as I like to call them. I'm an awesome black chick with two AWESOME sons (2 and 3), married to an AWESOME black man/sci-fi geek, so maybe some of the ladies can relate to that part, I hope. 

I have God to thank for him, and him to thank for bringing me here, to this place I find myself. Well-loved, cherished, resources at hand, and full of confidence to set forth. So let's go.

(Later on I'll probably add links and tags and photos, but right now I'm so nervous I can't think of anything to attach.)

This is a prologue to a story I'd work on six years ago. It was for a class and it managed to get me a good grade. 

Feel free to read it and give me your honest to god feedback. Thank you and enjoy...

The Start of the Sugaar’s Unforgiving Curse: Prologue to Celestial Avengers

Long ago, on a distant planet known as Esther, there were many tribes that fought amongst each other and waged war against one another. They allied themselves with other Country Lords of their nation, who quarrel, bicker, argue, and debate against each under who should have total rule of the lands in order to expand their nation and their empire to add along with it. These Country Lords have paid the most skilled, trained, and militaristic trained tribes to infiltrate, espionage, assassinate, and attack other tribes in their jest for power, fame, recognition, and glory. The most skilled of the tribes have went along with being paid in order to gain more weapons, tools, and food for them to survive on. The numerous tribes created multiple battles that has caused many chaos, destruction, and bloodshed to give rise. One of the most dangerous of battles was the  “Battle of Puma”, where the infamous Felecia clan was against the Puma clan, to whom both share cat-like abilities but the boil of their ancestry would tear them apart. Their battle took place in the most remote places of places known as the “Muddy Creek”, where their battle suits consisted of corset-like clothing they used for their  battle. Despite the hours of fighting they put up against, the Puma clan eventually lost themselves out to the corset-like wearing Felice and they have officially lost since then. Meaning that the Felice’s name would expand from all around. 
But out of the most formidable and most sinister of them all, is the tribe known as the Sugaars, who resided in the Country of the Dragons. Together, with their descendant tribe, the Maju’s, the snake/serpent hybrid of elves who not only specialize in blade-wielding but also specialize in sealing away deadly opponents through learning the black arts that has been a part of their clan for a long time. Their also some of the very of the clan that can be able to access the full abilities of their ancient treasure that lives inside of them; the deadly eye technique, known as the Zulagan, the “Eyes of the Black Bird of Anzu”. With their powers in the eyes, as well as their ways of being blade-wielding specialist in their field, they aligned with the Sugaars through their leader,  Blazegon Maju, and with their union with the flesh-eating, sky dominating, fire-breathing Sugaars, they pillaged through the land and attack many other tribes with relative ease. Their ring leader, Sugaar Von Sugaar, along with his son Zula, has conquered the sky and attack many other people who has crossed them and decided to stand in their way. They ravaged many other structures and civilization with great ease until eventually they made it all threw way to the “Valley of Whimsical Peak”, where they had many other tribes who allied themselves in the attempts to stop them from conquering the world. Through their vitality, vigor, and the ability to fly, the Sugaars and the Maju defeated the ones who stood in their way and ate their bodies as a way of proving an example to those who dare stand in their way. Sugaar managed to make it all the way to the Sacred Arch Valley and through the many traps set for them, Sugaar Von Sugaar obtained the sacred and powerful orb known as the Orb of the Seven Dragons Gates; which has the power to control all five of the elements and the sixth element known as yin-yang, being able to give birth to imagination and reality as their own leisure. With this orb, Sugaar Von Sugaar became immortal and through his immortality, he obtained four powerful men who rival that of the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” as his fresh new henchmen due to not only their power but also their birthright as being direct descendants of the Seiryuu Dragon itself. They decided that they were destined to rule the world and have gone all across one nation after another in order to cause their destructive path for world conquest. Each and every other commander that has come across them, along with their men, have met their death at the hands of the flesh-eating Sugaars who have terrorized throughout the country where the nations resides and have continued their flesh-eating, massive killing carnage for the sake of doing everything that they so please.  The other council members of other nations realized that the flesh-eating Sugaar’s and the blade-wielding, sealing specializing Maju’s were growing too powerful and that they must be stop at all cost. Through the meeting and  explaining the situation of their dilemma, they decide to create multiple Military Militias that range from left to right. They had many polished warriors become their captain, commander, and even generals and proxy generals. Through their created military and their society, the Council would form themselves to be the organization known as the “Celestial-Heavenly-Justice of Esther” and the Heavenly-Celestial Joint Army of the Saintly Order; an organization made by numerous other surviving nations who allied with themselves and are bent of working together to stop the bloodshed that the Sugaars has created and putting an end to the destructive wars that they’d committed from all around the center of their world. Through their command, the generals and commanders lead their platoons, squadron, and their unit all the way to other strongholds that were taken away by the Sugaars themselves. They succeeded in taking back a few of them and have managed to secure one of the countries that was taken over by the Sugaars.However, just as they made it to the Goa Kingdom, residing in Temper’s Valley, they were overwhelmed by the number of Sugaar and Maju units and armies that were under the direct order of Blazegon Maju, who is later become the father of the major antagonist in the storyline. Blazegon allied with Sugaar Von Sugaar in the attempts to break the curse that Sugaar has cast amongst his family in exchange for helping him conquer the other lands. The commanders found themselves no match against the wicked and military rule of Blazegon as he had his men take down those who dare to oppose them. The Council were seeing such a thing and had no choice but to call forth their strongest asset in the mist of their battle against the Sugaars and the Maju’s; the Seven Saint Archers of Constantine. Together, with their leader, they traveled through the land and attack the Sugaar front hold in the attempts to stop the Sugaars from taking over the world. They were stopped by the forces of Blazagon’s person henchmen, the “Asura Paths of Death”. Through the work of his leadership, they intervened the Saint Archers and did battle with them. With only the results of the battle be left as a mystery. Sugaar, pissed off that his right hand man is no longer with him anymore, went on an bigger flesh-eating carnage and decimating numerous other tactics and raids that were made against him. The council members exhaust every material from the military in order to defeat this man and used every other tactics that exist in order to smash down the man and his loyal followers. The well-known leader known as Colonel William CornWallis was to lead the attack against Arch-Duke Sugaar Von Sugaar and make sure that they take him down in very way that they can. The men that followed with him were able to defeat a great number of the army that serves under Arch-Duke Sugaar Von Sugaar. As soon as William CornWallis finally comes face to face with Sugaar Von Sugaar, it was a very long and intense battle. Despite his best efforts and the very long battle that was along with it, William unfortunately met his hands at the end of Sugaar’s flesh-eating intent and eventually was eaten up in the result of it. With no more of their well-known and famous leader, the men were going to suffer the same fate as their brave leader has and throughout the whole battle in itself, they were sacrificed to the number of other Sugaars who were still alive and sought revenge against their enemies for trying to do them in. The sight that  most have seen was unbearable and many of those who survived were to be scarred for live for such images that they had to see and hopefully be able to retreat and survive, long enough to tell the council what has happened to them and their famous, well-known leader known leader known as “William the Hero”. This news was to shock a certain mother who loves her husband and her first born son as well. Having to deal with such sad turmoil that was displayed horribly across the battlefield.  Just when all hope seems lost, just from the jest of nowhere, four mighty, strong, courageous men came forth to the battlefield of the Sugaar stronghold residing in the Country of the Dragons, in order to  fight against the creatures who has pillaged their land. The four men came from the tribe known as Ken Slayer; the Tiger tribe that is best known for their immense strength, stamina, and regeneration, came forth to challenge the Sugaar and put an end to the carnage that they’d begun from across the land. Sugaar Von Sugaar sent forth his four best men to deal away with them, but as soon as they challenged the leader of the four men, Amon, they were easily defeated. Amon than presented the Orb of the Tiger's Paw and challenged Sugaar Von Sugaar to the battle of the death. Seeing his men defeated in such a matter, forced the man to come down and challenge the leader of the group himself. He acknowledged him an a mighty person, and it was because of this claim, is why he decided to put an end to them and kill them all. Amon had his men fall back as this was to be a battle of leaders. They got started with their battle and Sugaar used the Orb of the Seven Dragon’s Gates to summon the legion of storms at his side in order to do great damage against his opponent. Amon was strong enough to withstand the wicked storms that Sugaar created, thanks to the power of the Orb. He used all of his “Death-Swirl” series and caused great earthquakes to happen in order to further do damage towards his enemy. Therefore helping him win the battle. Both of them went at with everything they had, not backing down with what they believe in. Finally it was down to the final bout and both of them were at their last ounce of strength. Just as they were both about to use their final moves against one another, they both vanished, leaving only their treasures behind. Zazel Ken Slayer took command as leader for his old leader's status, took possession of both the orbs, and presented it to the Alliance in any hopes of being able to create peace and reconciliation. The other Elders and Country Lords went through the negotiations with them in any hopes of being able to show them the ways of their society and what they plan to succeed in teaching for the better good of mankind in itself. Through the reconciliation and reconstruction stage, they managed to come forth with a successful negotiation that would involve making further peace with the land and being able to make fair trades with numerous other counties for their pavements and for what else they hope to achieve in the result of it as well. Zazel and the other Ken Slayers held a special meeting with the other Country Lords of the Alliance and have asked that they would have partition for their tribe to attend the next summit, should the next country summit meeting were to begin and would involve other leaders to be part of the summit meeting as well. Through their higher authorities, they have decided to go along with it and have them partitioned for the next summit that is yet to happen. With the orb no more in the possession of its ruler, the Sugaars were forced to live in the corners of their country as punishment for their war crimes and for other persecutions that they were tried for as well. They were exiled by the Elder's Spells of confinement as punishment for their war crimes, their wrong doing, and the amount of damage that they have caused amongst the land. Making sure that they don't try to do the same thing like they did before. Around the time of the post-war, when other countries were doing their best to repair everything that destroyed, the rescue team known as the “Yon-Daemon-Omani”, which was led by the son of Blazeagon Maju, Hallde the name, was making it all the way to where their old teammate was. By the time they make it there, what they saw has left in them such a shock that none would want to ever want to consider to this to the wide public; knowing that such an epidemic would only cause severe and destructive damage from all around. The son of Sugaar Von Sugaar himself, has horrifying raped the holy priestess of the Maju Tribe known as MariVella, an in the result of it has created the hybrid of the flesh-eating, flying Sugaars and the blade-wielding, sealing specialist Majus. Just as Hallde could finish him off, the son of Sugaar suddenly has vanished, saying his last words that the world will know true terror cause now the hybrid of destruction, annihilation, and conquest was brought upon the world and will soon rule the world of Esther, like the Sugaars assured that he would. Wanting to protect the child and the person that he loves, Hallde has made a hard choice that would affect the whole entire course of history as it is.  About twenty years has passed and mysteriously, the Ken Slayers  have vanished, without so much as a trace of them left. This has reached the other Country Lords that were part of the “Celestial-Heavenly” Alliance as they were going to have them attend at the upcoming Summit meeting that involved the rising problem of the Sugaar hybrid itself. Just as the epidemic has reached the masses, suddenly the persecuted Sugaar and their nation, has mysteriously vanished as well. Just when all things were at a stir due to this disappearance of these major tribes, a dark and illuminating shadow awaits for the time to reveal a diabolical plan,  plan that’ll change just about everything in the world of Esther. It was around that time that the Majus, the snake/serpent tribe that has shared many characteristics with their Sugaar ancestry, were also slaughtered brutally at the time due to a horrifying event that went down, such as a traitor of their own tribe and nation and has caused animosity and stir amongst the other nations due to how dangerous this event was and how many people were killed in the process. The mysterious figure smiles under the shadows; seeing that everything was going according to plan and that sooner or later, the time to regain control over Esther all over again will soon be at hand and that it can rule the rule the world once again like before.  This is a story about two boys who are to know who their heritage is and find a way to break the curse that was cast amongst the world of Sugaar. Whether they will work together to find a way to beat this curse or fall victim to the curse’s unforgiving effect, will depend on the choices that they make, the future of others that depend on them, and the character of their nature as well. This is the story known as “Celestial Avengers”. Now, without further ado, let the story begin with the first of the chosen two...the one known as Horus.

Hi Everyone,

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Peace!

Ever have the feeling that children today know nothing about history and what matters from the past?

How far would you go to change that? 

"Well Wishes," my contribution to Out of Our Minds: Tales from the Comics Experience, asks those questions of Denny Gallows, a milquetoast librarian who is just waiting for the clock to strike nine...

The story was written for The Comics Experience's "Introduction to Comic Book Writing" course taught by Andy Schmidt. Aspiring comics writers and artists should check out Andy's course offerings at http://www.comicsexperience.com. Andy's classes represent another way to network in a notoriously insular business, particularly if you participate in the Writers' Workshop. Andy routinely has comics professionals participating, so you could actually get your story critiqued by the likes of writers like Peter David.  

I'd like to think that the "The Twilight Zone"-inspired story is entertaining (if you don't agree, feel free to keep your opinion to yourself!), but I know that its stunning artwork is arguably its greatest strength. Silvio dB is a phenomenal Brazilian artist based in Recife. We advertised for artists on a number of boards and Silvio was my immediate choice. See why at: (http://silviodb.daportfolio.com/ or http://silviodb.deviantart.com/). My letterer, recommended by a contributor who lives in Australia, lives in the UK, so the story you will find below is a truly international production!

In case you didn’t know, my first novel in the Osguards series, Homecoming, received ‘Honorable Mention’ at the 2011 Hollywood Book Festival Contest. My wife, Karen and I, flew out to receive the award on the weekend of July 22, 2011. We were excited. It was our first award, and we were riding on the national 5-star review from Midwest Book Review. We felt like teenagers going to the prom.

We arrived at the airport, bright and early that Friday morning. We were booked on Air Tran, with one stop in Milwaukee. That’s when the trip from hell began. To make a long story short, I am 6’4.5” inches tall and my height is mostly in my legs. So I always ask for, and usually receive either an exit row or an aisle seat. The flight was full, so in order to do this, Karen and I had to be separated. After 30 minutes and $40 to check two bags, we received our tickets. Even though I had an aisle seat, the problem was, it was the last seat in the plane against the back bulkhead, meaning the leg room was cut in half. Plus the armrest did not lift, so I couldn’t swing my leg out in the aisle. This was painful. Luckily, Karen switched seats and was able to sit next to me on the first leg of our trip.

On the second leg, I was able to get an exit row, but Karen was unable to switch seats and sit next to me. Instead, I sat next to a rude man who upon landing began smoking an electronic cigarette. It looked real, so I said something. Well, I guess I left my diplomatic voice in Washington D.C. and he was already rude, so let’s just say the exchange was brief, but not polite.

Then upon arriving at LAX, I found my suitcase drenched. The few books, I carried with me for display during the ceremony and festival, were wet. I tried to lodge a complaint, but the baggage attendant kept calling it water condensation and claimed there was no damage. We had four hours to get our rental car, check into the hotel, get dressed and leave for the ceremony, so I dropped the complaint and left.

Yet, when we arrived at our hotel room, we pulled our clothes out of the bag, and they were soaked. I know it was raining in Milwaukee, but our bags looked like someone dumped them in a swimming pool and left them there for two hours. Rain should not have soaked all the way through the bag. Needless to say, my blood pressure must have jumped 20 points. I called the airlines and received no satisfaction. They wanted me to go back to the baggage attendant at LAX and lodge a complaint. Been there…done that…and got jack-squat!

Luckily the hotel was able to dry and press our clothes in two hours and I took the blow dryer from the bathroom and attempted to dry the books -- page by page. I also tried to salvage our promotional flyers. After two hours, I had two raggedy, but dry books and a handful, out of 500, flyers. We chose the best looking book to display at the awards ceremony, slipped the handful of flyers in my pocket, and left -- no longer feeling like teenagers going to the prom. When I put my book out for display, alongside the other winners, I almost felt like screaming. But I held my head up high and proceeded to mingle with the other authors.

When it was my turn to accept my award, I ended my acceptance speech with the quick story on how the airlines ruined our books and almost ruined our evening. I compared what our bags went through to the classic T.V. luggage commercial of a gorilla in a cage throwing suitcases around.

Well the rest of the evening was flawless, exciting and we met award winning authors from around the nation. The feeling of two teenagers at the prom soon returned. The next day at the festival was also good. The trip was well worth the agony. I also learned a lesson…carry-on…carry-on…carry-on.

But the feeling did not last long. On the way home, the ticket agent stuffed me in the window seat during both legs of the flight. Even after four days, my knees are still in pain. Maybe next time I win an award, I will shoot for First Class. I certainly won’t fly Air Train.

Malcolm D. Petteway,

Author, Osguards: Guardians of the Universe

Owner, Rage Books LLC

www.ragebooks.net

1.866.448.2585

SPRING
Chapter 2 - Spring on the Easter Seaboard

We started south after we passed through West Freehold in northern Jersey, the people there were as always, downright unsociable folk. Not saying they did not have reason to be cautious. This area was frequented by roving bands who escaped the fall of New York. It is one of the stranger things about the Arrival, that thousands of predator trees landed in the major metropolitan areas of Earth. It wasn't as if they targeted the cities, but for some reason the creatures found their way to major population centers if they didn't initially land there. So people were attacked both while they fled cities from the creatures at their back and once again by alien hordes coming into cities. This increased fatalities three fold in the earliest hours of the Arrival.

Survivors fell into three categories. Builders, people who found ways to turn the wealth of the Old World into a means of survival, building new much smaller walled cities and growing what they can when they can, raising animals if they are able to find them. The Feral, groups of humans who barely maintain any semblance of their humanity. They vary in technological competence from military effectiveness to dirty bands scrambling to live off the land or anyone not strong enough to protect themselves. And then there are the Moving. That's us. Our band is much smaller than most, right now, its just our family group, but we often join up with other Movers for protection in dangerous areas, sharing resources, ideas or helping Builders with the restoration of some of the Old World. The difference between the Movers and the warlike Ferals is we choose to move and choose to be non-violent if we can help it.

At West Freehold, we traded non-potable water for our vehicle's fuel cells. We would sterilize it later and make sure it was particle free when we had some time. We also managed to get some tough nu-potatoes and traded some high density batteries for their short range stunners used for hunting and repelling undesirables. For some canned extras, likely plundered from the major cities where no one would be willing to live, we gave them a windup radio we plundered from the outskirts of New York. There are still emergency broadcasts made on occasions depending on where you lived in the country. There is no effective government anywhere on Earth. Each area works to establish whatever can pass for a government and they seem to last for a while but almost always decay or are destroyed by Ferals or increasing populations of the predator trees or their other symbiotic life forms. It seems as soon as our populations start to increase in an area, word gets out and that area becomes more attractive to the aliens.

With the next bit of the road being some of the toughest, potatoes and other grub would be in short supply while we made the first dogleg south. We would make a stop in Philadelphia since there was a strong and thriving human community there. The trip to Philadelphia was long and circuitous because of the lack of decent roads in this part of the country. With building materials in short supply and active predators on the road, the people managed to build a decent barrier around the center of the city and do their best to keep it clear of the predator trees and their ilk.

We usually make a quick stop there, just long enough to trade some mail, rearm and if there was someone who needed passage south and can pay, we could take up to two more. Hopefully they could use a gun because this part of the route gets a bit hairy after Philly. Our route takes us from New York to the former capital in Washington DC. The direct route to the capital from Jersey would have taken a much shorter pathway but the roads were destroyed early in the offensives against the predator trees and their symbiotic allies by bombing runs. The roads were simply too effective at allowing the fastest of the creatures to move, so many were destroyed. It was against these very creatures we had to prepare for now. We called them tumblers. Scientists gave them some scientific name but what they resembled more than anything were tumble weeds. Except these did not roll harmlessly though old ghost towns. And they almost never rolled alone.

Our vehicle which doubled as our home, was full at the moment with my wife Martha sitting in the top turret, manning a fifty caliber rifle which had been added to our heavy vehicle, a military fast attack vehicle released at some point around 2013 called the Rhino. She is over sixty but a natural when it came to using the weapon. Who would have thought. We found the Rhino outside an army base that had been overrun a few years ago, and with just a few days were able to figure out how to load the fifty-cal and use it. Up until then, we had been using a solar assisted RV but it had been trashed by Ferals who had chased us onto that base. It had been small enough to have been missed by them and our luck had been to find active stockpiles of weapons still protected from the environment.

The vehicle resembled a Jeep except it was twice the size with none of the vulnerability. Hardened armor with the ability to add or subtract heavier armor plating we decided to ditch everything except for the lightest armor. We did not expect to run into any grenades, tanks, RPGs or bombs. Not too often at any rate. If it came to that, we would count on our speed and maneuverability to win the day. And the fact that Martha was a crack shot with the .50-cal.

Designed to be used by fast attack crews, it was designed exactly for our current lifestyle. Keeping it in ammo was the hardest part since the vehicle had been designed to run on a variety of power sources. It could be charged using plug in or generator electricity, it had a backup gasoline engine and had rechargeable and replaceable fuel cells. The greenest and cheapest method of keeping it powered was using the solar film and electrical system on the outside of the vehicle. Lucas, my grandson told me the vehicle was covered with a multiple layered solar mesh designed to capture solar radiation completely and super-efficiently. He said the mesh would reroute energy even if it took small arms fire damage. Then he mentioned something about nano repair capabilities and I stopped listening. The boy continued on for another ten minutes before he realized I wasn't listening.

It also had solar blankets which could be set up to enhance its recharge rate when it wasn't moving. With two hours of sunshine we could move at low speeds of fifteen to twenty miles per hour for over six hours. And if the sun shone on it while we moved, we could conceivably drive all day. We would stop two to four hours before sunset, so it could gather and recharge if we had to move at night. It offers us a good eight to ten hours of travel every day, so if we are not in a rush, we can travel almost entirely without using any of the harder to get fuels such as water or even rarer these days, gasoline. Setting up the solar blankets was generally only done when we were safe since they took time to lay down and pick up. We hadn't figured out a quick way to deploy or retrieve them yet and they were simply too vital to risk.

Their kids, Sharon and Lucas were riding in the back of the vehicle manning the two electronic gun ports. Using a sensor array and a display system they targeted the two swiveling guns on the side of the vehicle. The guns were targeted with six electronic eyes on the hull and a laser targeting system to enhance accuracy. It required a steady hand and a sense for shooting while moving. None of us like to admit it but the kids used them far better any of us old people. But to keep everyone on their toes, we all spent time using them and using to shoot our collection of rifles, machine-guns and hand guns and no one went anywhere unarmed or unescorted. Ever. The gun ports were accurate to about three hundred and fifty feet, making them our preferred method of violent problem solving since the 5.56 ammo they used was much easier to replace than the much more precious .50 caliber ammo.

During our normal operations, I was the rear door gunner. The vehicle offered the option of firing from a gun port at the back. It was not very large, so you had to be a good shot. And for any long range shooting, I was even with my slowly diminishing eyesight, the best shot of my family. But we always rotated the duties to make sure everyone stayed familiar with all of the weapons and their idiosyncratic behaviors.

My daughter's husband, Marcus, was driving and kept a fully loaded Colt Anaconda in his lap. He was very good with it and could shoot and drive at the same time, if he needed to. Since the Rhino had bulletproof windows, it was often better to keep them up in hostile territory. My daughter, Linda rode shotgun and used a fully loaded military combat shotgun. Army surplus was all over the country and no one to tell her she couldn't carry it. She had years of practice with it.

Our plundering of military facilities over the decade since the Arrival, has given us access to a wide array of military technology and we dressed the part, carried the gear and understood the language. We spent at least two summers training with military survivors who had the good sense to run when the Arrival started looking like a rout. They were hard on themselves but after a few years facing the enemy, it was clear, they were numerous, terrifying and deadly. It is only because we are very careful and exercise cautious thoughtful interactions we have survived where more heavily armed troops died. We had two rules: Rule One: think before you shoot. Rule Two: Bullets don't always solve problems. Shoot sparingly.

You would think we should have more rules, but living out here as a Mover, you learn too many rules makes it hard for you to be able to think on the fly. Since the Arrival, more creatures have begun to appear as the well fed predator trees continue to grow in size and strength. There are places now where the predator trees tower over one hundred feet tall and have whole ecosystems springing into being at their roots. With new creatures appearing every day, we have to be able to observe, learn and tailor our tactics. Having survived for ten years out here, our reputations as couriers, messengers, escorts and scouts ensured we were well paid, well respected and depending on who you asked, just a little feared. We didn't promote violence, but we certainly had an awareness of situations which might go south on you and a knack for handling violence effectively and permanently.

The world was now a very dangerous. It was no place for the stupid or the weak. Which meant knowing one more thing important thing if you planned on surviving. If you met any human on the road who had been there for a while, consider them the most dangerous thing you can run into. Yes, predator trees and their kin were always dangerous, but with humans you might drop your guard. That is a good way to end up with your throat slit. When consorting with humans, be even more careful than you are against any Arrival. Humans were simply too unpredictable with the fall of their world.

Leaving Philadelphia, we did not pick up any riders, but we did get a load of mail and goods needing to go to DC. The capital city was gone, completely overrun, but the Pentagon survived and continues to operate in a limited capacity as a hub of military deployment and intelligence regarding the Arrivals. Using brute force, the military keeps a clear path into and out of the city and what is left of the functioning government is found there. This government is in name only since it has very little economic, social or political clout. Since every other world power is functioning under the same handicap, the Arrivals have made the world a very equal place again.

Rumor has it we may get to meet the President with our latest deliveries. As we are leaving Pennsylvania, something seems wrong and Marcus stops as we approach the state line. I see it too.

"Pop, there is more blue than green. More black too." He pointed to the trees overhanging the road. They were not the symbiotic predator trees, they seemed to be more of the kudzu variety. Kudzu trees were capable of emitting a stupefying spore, which causes creatures to breath it and fall into a deep sleep. While sleeping the kudzu would have vine-like tendrils grab their prey wrap it up and consume it. Their only blessing was they could not move. Once rooted, they depended on prey moving toward them. They could also replicate other smells. I can personally attest to the smell of peanut butter, chocolate cookies, steak, pizza, and mangoes as part of their scent library. I am certain they can do others. One man said he was witness to a tree that could smell like the finest Chardonnay.

"Put your masks on. Check your filters. Go slow and lets see it a bit closer." After everyone was set, we moved up until we could identify more clearly what we were seeing.

My daughter, bless her sharp eyes, whispered, "tumblers."

Marcus stopped the car immediately and turned off the engine. Martha cleared the barrel for the .50. The kids cycled the long range gun ports. I grabbed two grenades from our stores, noting we had only fourteen left. This was supposed to be our supply stop.

I could see what had happened to the convoy. They did not notice the new black additions to this grove. If they had, they would have known that tumblers had taken up residence. Tumblers were fast growing, dangerous mobile seed pods. They could move on their own, without the need of wind. They attack prey they believe they can bring down, blasting it to bits with its own organic shrapnel with the force of a grenade. Tumblers attack in waves, with the earlier waves bringing down the food and later waves consuming it and bringing it back to the host trees. "I don't know what to think right now. I don't see any stragglers, so they may have already killed and eaten their fill. But that doesn't seem right. There are an awful lot of tumbler trees here. Far more than this tiny road should be supporting."

Martha looked down into the cab and said, "You don't think they may have grown in response to the Pentagon? It's the only thing that looks like a city nearby."

"If we are want to know, we need to go in on foot. The Rhino is only going to attract them. So who is staying here?" I will say this about my clan, their curiosity always gets the best of them. No one wanted to be left behind.

"Marcus, I need you here, Martha, he needs you on the .50. Back it up about a mile and set up a perimeter. You still have two of the small laser ranging bots. Put them out and keep your radio handy. Turn it on, every thirty minutes for two minutes. When we know more we will call in. Before you pull out, check for salvage here."

Everyone got their kit. One grenade, three clips of ammo, one small arm, with two additional clips. Masks and five filters good for eight hours apiece. So we have a day and a half to figure out what happened here. As we surveyed the military vehicles, there was food, water and weapons here, so they left in a hurry. There were tumbler explosions on all of the vehicles, low and into the wheel wells. Organic matter was caked up around every explosion. The only upside in dealing with tumblers is they are volatile and prone to explosion, so if you shoot at them and hit them, they tend to blow completely up and detonating their neighbors. This can work against you if you are amid their population when you start shooting.

Moving quickly and quietly we salvage the vehicles and the Rhino backs down the road. There is always that feeling of nakedness whenever the Rhino pulls away and we are not on board. But we had to know what had happened here; this was one of our primary drops and resupply points. If it was lost, the spiritual head of our government was dead too. We set out knowing it was at least a ten mile hike to the Pentagon from here; a hike through an area reclaimed by nature and the new Arrivals.

It was going to be a long walk.

"Adventurous white folks joined long, dark lines to get into the 'black-and-tan' clubs, which daringly welcomed an integrated clientele. The pre-fight partying extended to whites-only establishments as well, where revelers raised numerous toasts to a champion who would not have been allowed past the front door had he desired to join the festivities."  So reads a paragraph that serves as a prelude to the scathing boxing match between black boxing champ Jackhammer Jackson and the Nazi ubermensch, Wolf Krieger, in DAMBALLA, Charles Saunders' wonderful new novel, published by Airship 27 Productions. This is pulp fiction at its best -- and who knows the world of boxing better than Charles Saunders?  But this is much more than an old-school, action-adventure story. DAMBALLA has all the elements of film noir and hard-boiled detective stories. It has Nazis and gangsters, and a real sense of time and place--1938 Harlem. There is also a serious subtext dealing with bigotry and racism, performance-enhancing drugs, and is also a reflection of America's past, and in many instances, our present, as well. Saunders has created the first black, crime-fighting superhero in pulp fiction, a true brother to The Shadow, The Avenger, and The Green Lama.  It's history and history-making, superbly told and well-written, with enough twists, turns, and surprises to keep you turning the pages.  Bravo, my friend! Bravo!

 After a few tweaks and my Partner Eric's supervision we have The GALTOW poster by Jay Aguilera! In the online store

Along with a sale on the Fantastic Keylon Jakes statue by Eric Nocella Diaz for just $40:

http://xmoor.bigcartel.com/

In September 2010, 12 aspiring comics writers from North America and Australia completed Andy Schmidt's "Introduction to Comics Writing" course, producing original five-page stories. The writers then worked with artists from literally all over the globe to create Out of Our Minds: Tales from the Comics Experience.

It's available for purchase at:

http://www.indyplanet.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=5687

Chapter 7 - Heart to Hart

Ms. Hart, The Hell Hart, that was what she was called over two hundred years ago. Two centuries ago, no one would have believed she would be tending someone near to death, praying for their recovery. Then, her reputation as a swords-woman, in an age where women did not use a sword was legendary. Her skill with it, impeccable, her dueling record, perfect. After a time, her travels would make her master of many weapons and nearly as many enemies. If you saw her standing over the body of someone, it was to watch the light go out of their eyes in that final darkness.

Driven regularly from her home, partially from her strange, ageless and impertinent nature, partially from the fear and responses her enemies had, she acquired a number of names over the decades. In civilized lands, she was The Lady Hart or Frau Hart. In places where she was a warlord, she was known as The Red Hart from her standard, a large deer on a red standard. In places where she killed her enemies indiscriminately, she was called The Butcher. For a time, she was a revered as a warrior-queen.

Those were different times, her Light, her power kept her outside of Time. Forged of the stuff of cacastrom, the random forces of dark Chaos and bound by illiaster, the stuff of Order, direct by her will, she carried it inside her body. It suffused her bones, wrapped itself inside her skeleton and appeared as both weapon and armor. Her House carried this artifact and different members were able to do different things with it. Few had her strength and mastery. Ever fewer survived. Now, she was the last of her House. And as she knew it the last of her kind.

Her charge, a woman of extreme age, was still physically imposing but the power that fueled her body was all but gone. She held on by force of will, hoping relief would be coming soon. That relief needed to arrive soon, or all would be lost. Hart remembered the first time she met her, this once extremely powerful and now fragile woman who held the fate of the world in her trembling hand...

* * *

My best name was less than seventy years ago; Kathrin Hart. It was the late 1940's, and I had been in Paris during the World War II, when I met him, the man who I would call the Sergeant. He was a G.I. working in a small town and our initial actions together had been to repel a super-weapon created by the Germans. At the time, I was a weapon of the Reich as well, but my memory fled me until I died. I died protecting him. I had no regret. There was something about him. Something dark. I instinctively knew then what he was, but could not bring myself to accept it.

He did not know. He could not see the other lives he had lived. Like rings in a tree, he had many lifetimes, each of conflict, and of suffering. He had many, each renewed by his dark connection to his power. Our powers were complementary, so we were drawn together, time and time again, our lives mixed sometimes as lovers and other times as deadly enemies. This time we started as enemies and ended as lovers. When the war ended, I found my way to him in the States and we married. Again. It was the beginnings of a mistake. Small at first, but it grew over time.

My presence, my Heart, my Light, triggered his Shadow and soon we had to move This would become a recurrent theme. Each time we grew comfortable, misfortune would follow us and people died. As his power grew I realized he was not just a child of Shadow. He was a Power. A repository of the Great Gift. As great as my power had been, it would be as nothing once his fully awakened. His power was a named one. And as I watched it grow, I refused to recognize it. And the danger it would pose.

During the sixties, we resisted the oppressive governments wherever we could go. We pretended we were just like the people around us. We let our hair grow long, let our responsibilities lapse and got on the road, traveling as the people did. His powers were already nearly as great as my own. He could walk between two shadows anywhere in the world. He could hear his name mentioned anywhere there was darkness. But in a desperate attempt to hide we went to Woodstock. At Woodstock, we laughed, got high, traveled in a broken-down VW bus with half a dozen other hippies, made our way through history until we met her.

She was beautiful. Her hair was an afro, full like the head of a dandelion. Her body, perfect, full, exuding sexuality, everywhere she moved, carnality erupted. She wore a simple halter and shorts and I remember her legs were the most amazing I had ever seen. Her body was brown like mahogany and her smile was a thing of warmth and sunshine. We were both drawn to her and we spent the days getting high and just enjoying the perfect weather.

We danced, sang and it was as if we had always known her. We lost our hippy friends during the weekend, so we spent the nights parked, making love till the dawn. When he and I woke the last day, she was gone, but both of us were more at peace than we had been in years. After Woodstock, things changed in the world. Suspicion and fear became the order of the day. But for us, things seemed good. We were happy for a time able to enjoy our peace until she came back to us, nearly a decade later.

Her second visit was nothing like her first.

She came to us on a farm in Iowa. We had moved there hoping for a cessation to the slowly increasing attacks. These were strange things, they started as simple things, racists with an axe to grind. I was a blond haired, Caucasian woman and he was a powerfully built African American. And things were often hostile when we came to new places. But the tempers did not cool. Their ire and their attacks increased. Soon a supernatural taint could be seen. Entities, not of this world rode the bodies of those racists and eventually attacked directly. Our farm, built and reinforced, protected us from their attacks and became both home and fortress.

And then she came.
 

It was during a terrible thunderstorm, where lightning flashed, tornado-like winds howled. Both of us were on edge. The storm sang of the supernatural and we began our preparations. We renewed our wards, loaded weapons and meditated to bring our powers into balance. The storm grew worse and after a time, we sensed it approaching our farm. As the wind howling increased, we could sense her. She carried the storm with her. Her knock on the door was powerful, able to be heard above the storm. When we opened the door,  we recognized her immediately. She had not changed, as if less than a second had past between when she left us then and now. She was carrying a child with her.

She came in from the driving rain and staggered into the living room. She handed me the baby, roughly as if she could barely maintain her awareness. She dropped to the carpet as if she were dead. He caught her and laid her gently on her back. Hidden by the baby were terrible slashes in her belly. Deep cuts, with razor precision. He looked at me and knew whatever was coming was of a nature more fantastic than any threat to date.

He picked her up and struggled as if she were a great weight. He placed her on the sofa. I slashed away her jacket and opened her shirt and saw her body had been terribly savaged and the injuries were across her thighs and back as well. Whatever did this was powerful and large. The claws were the size of his hands. He rewrapped the child while I tended her wounds. We both had significant experience with injuries and often worked as doctors or paramedics depending on where we lived. The child was about six months old and in perfect condition. After checking him out and satisfied to his health, we made ready. Whatever drove her here would follow. Soon.

When they came we saw them slowly approaching the house. They were wolves the size of horses. Their mouths showed their razor sharp fangs, already bloody, each drip accented by the flashes of lightning, growing steadily more frequent, lasting longer and the crashing of thunder indicating the storm was directly overhead, no time between light and noise. With all the noise the strangest thing was the fact the child did not make a sound. As if lightning was something he was used to hearing.

My crazy husband walked out onto the porch with a shotgun, filled with a mix of silver, lead, iron and salt in one hand and a rune-carved machete in the other. "Stay here. Keep them safe. I will be right back."

He walked out there and the three giant wolves strode up to him within twenty feet and stopped. They were easily nine feet at the shoulder. It was simply impossible they should exist.

"We don't want any trouble." As if talking to giant wolves was something he did every day. I sat with my Winchester rifle pointed out of the window.

"Give us the woman and the child and we will leave."

"Can't do that."

"Then, there will be... trouble."

My husband said nothing, but his body tensed imperceptibly, waiting for them to gather their courage. They seemed to sense his power and were in their way, cowed by it.

The wolf to his left bared his fangs and hissed. "Is that your final offer? Would you make her trouble your own? You already have many."

"Yep."

"Then die." As the wolf lunged, both barrels of the shotgun were shoved directly into its mouth, went off. It howled as it threw its head back, and smoke rose from its mouth as it fell into the rain.

"You, first." 

He turned exuding a crazy menace, smiled and asked to the remaining wolves, "Who's next?" Dropping the shotgun into the rain, he turns and faces the remaining two.

The second wolf, as large as the first lunged forward and my .380 caught it cleanly in the eye. Ensorcelled, it tore through the creature's ironhard flesh and ground its brain into mush as the round scattered inside of its skull. It dropped dead without a sound.

While the second wolf was falling to the ground, he leapt out of the way of the dying giant and his machete flashed against the hardened fur of the third wolf. Its stiff, iron-like fur blunting the force of his blow. Blood came away on the blade, just the same. The wolf surprised, bound backward.

"Die, mortal man." The last wolf braced itself and howled in his direction, focusing its sound like a weapon. The force of the sound shattered all of the glass in the house turning it instantly into the room as shrapnel.

I moved. Time slowed for me, directed by my power, I could see the glass, each shard of it as it moved into the room. My Winchester fell from my grip and my spear appeared, a function of my will. I could perceive those that would be a threat and struck them from the air with my spear, which had appeared in my hand, extending my reach. The wide bladed tip swatting away each projectile. I was struck by dozens of them, each of them trying to gain a purchase, most deflected by my armor, a few penetrating, but nothing stopped my focus, nothing stopped my execution. I did not know this woman but I knew it was important to save her. 

He had thrown himself to the ground at the last second, so the wave of sound passed over him, but even a glancing blow had been deadly enough. He was stripped nearly bare by the sound, lacerations crossed his entire body. Only tattered rags remained. I was put in mind of when he found me, walking away from a plane crash, I must have looked like that to him. He stood up, and snatched his machete out of the ground.

He touched the Nordic runes and raised the blade to the heavens. Lightning flowed down to him and connected the sword, casting light everywhere and dark silhouettes. He disappeared from sight, and reappeared in the shadow of the beast. Lightning redirected itself between where he was to where he now stood. The wolf was in the path. Jumping into the air, he stabs the sword into the side of the beast as the lightning finds them both. He is thrown away from the explosion.

The lightning abruptly stopped. The rain subsided soon after. The woman lay quietly, her breathing slowed, the child lay next to her, blissfully unaware of what happened. I got up, after removing shards of glass from by body and walked to the window. I could see my husband getting up, smoke still rising from his body. He turned and began to stagger toward me. I flew to him. He was still hot and he shone with a quiet luminescence. While we walked back to the house, the door opened up and the woman was there holding the child in her arms.

"We cannot stay here. Others will follow."

"Who are you, what did they want, and why is it every time we meet, I end up naked." His words were jocular, but his tone serious. These were questions he wanted answers to, now.

"My name is Gaia. And this," holding the baby out for a second, "is your son."



Equinox © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved [@ebonstorm]

A Tale of New Earth

"Now don't get too close, Martha. We just want a picture of you and the trees." My hands were shaking as I took the picture of my wife next to these very special trees. We had read about them in the lastest issue of Life Magazine. The article was called "The Predator Trees of Nassau County." 

She was sure to stay at the line drawn around the creatures which was emitted by a special system of lasers, which also doubled as a defensive array for tourists who did not pay attention. Martha wasn't that kind of tourist. She paid close attention and never strayed inside the line. 

A couple of the trees were very active that afternoon and had slashed out with one of their acid covered tentacles. The lasers fired clipping the ends and kept the trees from reaching her. The tentacles were scooped up and properly handled by a service robot. 

There was a kiosk there and we listened to when they first fell to Earth ten years ago, they swarmed over the planet eating everything in sight. Mankind had been on the edge of extinction until they stopped eating humanity and turned on each other.  

Humans had tried any number of foolish things, but anything we did only caused them to grow faster. We lost parts of China, Africa and the West Coast of the United States when we tried to use nuclear weapons. The creatures created spores and proliferated at ten times their normal rates. When they began to eat each other, humanity breathed a sigh of relief. But their populations did not diminish. So anyplace that had been overrun stayed that way. 

Both Martha and I had lost our previous mates during the early attacks and were lucky enough to find each other when we managed to escape the Arizona Wall built to keep them behind it. We couldn't get far away enough and eventually found ourselves in Long Island, New York in Nassau County. There weren't too many of the creatures left in parts of the world where nukes weren't used and now with the surplusses of food and resources, no one had to work unless they wanted to. Plenty did. I worked as a photographer, gathering information about the walled cities and with Martha and the kids riding shotgun, and gun turrets, we cruise the midwest bringing news and resources to isolated communities. 

Martha and I are now in our sixties and don't think we have much time left, so we are teaching the kids our route so they can help keep the roads clear and sharing information between the cities on the oceans and the middle of the continent. 

Martha always wants to stake out a tree when we find them because of the strangest thing. Predator trees have a habit of attracting cats. The cats come to the trees, sit down on the branches and fall asleep. The trees wrap them in a cocoon and absorb the flesh, leaving the skeletons wrapped in the trees. Once the cilia are removed the skeletons are often posed in strange positions. She takes different pictures of them and collects them. Sometimes she will wait until a cat shows up and will try to rescue them from their fate. They do not seem to be able to resist, likely a spore-based pheromone.  

We came to this tree because there was supposed to be a cat living in harmony with these particular trees. 

"There he is," she said. "A big Tom. He is carrying something." My eyes weren't what they used to be, so I pulled out my binoculars and could see it was a large rat. He dropped it near the base of the tree and then proceeded to climb to the limbs near the middle of the tree. He deftly dodges the poisonous tentacles, though a few seemed to move out of his way as he reaches his perch, a wide strong limb.  He hunkers down and proceeds to go to sleep. 

"I don't believe what I am seeing." Martha has her video camera and leaves it on overnight. It is designed to lock on and autofocus as necessary. The predation process is supposed to take only a single night. "He will be dead by morning." 

We camp out and snuggle while the kids take turn from the truck. The trees, attracted to our body heat, move during the night but a few taps from the laser turret and they return to slavering quietly. 

Martha woke before I did and saw the impossible. The black Tom climbed down the tree, ran off into the woods, quite alive. "Now I can die 'cause I have seen everything. A cat that is good for something." 

"I don't understand." I was still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. 

"The reason there aren't more trees here, is the cat gives them enough food to stay mobile, not enough food to breed. Since there were very few people living here, they never got enough to eat to reproduce." The people of Long Island fled the very night the creatures landed in New York proper. 

"The world's remaining scientists have been doing everything in their power to eradicate them and everything we do just makes it worse. A damn fool cat figures out, all we have to do is feed them enough till they take root. Look at them. They have the coloration of first arrivals. They have been here for over ten years and have never spread." 

"Don't that beat all. Until today, I would have said there was nothing I could have learned from a cat." Seeing cat skeletons in predator trees for nearly a decade, I always assumed it would always be that way. 

The Tom comes back with another rat and gingerly drops it in the same spot. He climbs back into the tree and stares at us. The look seemed to say, "Okay, now go tell somebody and get the hell out of here." 

Who was I to argue with someone smarter than me? We got in the truck, took a few more pictures and started heading out toward Jersey. The trees and cat cast long shadows in the early morning light. They followed us west. 

The Predator Trees of Nassau County © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved [@ebonstorm]

Chapter 6 - Loa 

"Did you understand me, child? Remember." 

The voice that spoke to me was as much of a question as why I woke with a mouth full of sand, in a place hotter than Hell. Okay, one question at a time. Where was I? Face down, I could notice I was seeing sand. White, dry, hot. Sun overhead and been so for quite some time. Clothes were the last ones I remember, stylish and inappropriate for desert walking. 

I slowly rose to my feet, but stopped somewhere between kneeling and standing, a bit dizzy and realizing I was terribly thirsty. Doing a quick check, I noted no injuries, I was armed with two silvered 9mm pistols and silvered bullets with high quality loads. Strong enough to drop almost anything. There were runic scripts on each bullet increasing their efficacy. So whoever dropped me here wanted me to be able to shoot and kill almost anything that lived and a bunch of things that bordered the boundaries between life and death. 

Looking around, I noticed a dark wide brimmed hat sitting on the sand nearby. I felt I should recognize it. It was on the tip of my tongue. I had the distinct impression that there was something I should be remembering right now. Something so important my life depended on it.

"Don't say that name."  

I heard it as clear as if someone had spoken aloud, but I didn't see anyone for miles. I mentioned that I was standing in a desert. No people in any direction. No shade either. So, who said that? 

"Don't say the name of anyone you remember while we walk. You are able to be here because you do not remember anyone or anything. Names have power. Yours has greater power than most. For now we shall call you Adam." 

"Okay, so who are you and how can you be talking to me?" 

"I am on the ground in front of you. You perceive me as a common article of clothing."

"You mean this hat? Yes, you look like a very common, if a bit unstylish hat." 

"I will have you know I am a very uncommon and quite stylish hat. If you were around three hundred years ago." The hat's tone was less than conciliatory as if it was trying to appease a less than intelligent houseplant. 

"Put me on. You will need protection from the sun." 

"Do I have to?" 

"No, you could stand out here until your brain fries, you remember who you are, shout out the Names of people who should remain forgotten for a bit longer, attract the people who are trying to kill you, and get me killed trying to fruitlessly protect someone too stupid to put on a hat to prevent sunstroke. I think that is sound reasoning. I'll wait here." 

How did I know I wasn't already past the point of common madness? Wasn't I out in the middle of a desert I did not recognize arguing with what I believed to be an acerbic and style-impaired hat? Well, if I was crazed, I couldn't be any worse off for having a tiny bit of shade in this blazing damn desert. 

I picked up the hat. It was heavy. Made from a thick leather, no sand adhered to it and I turned it around in my hand. It was black. Completely black, where I expected shadows, it seemed to become even darker. Then I looked at my own shadow and realized what was wrong with the hat. It cast no shadows. My hand appeared to be empty and holding nothing. 

I put it on and just like that, neither of us cast a shadow. And I was a whole lot cooler as well. As hats go, a lack of style had to fall by the wayside when you can knock twenty degrees right out of the air. Relief. 

"Go that way." The hat's command caused a tingling sensation off to my right. I understood intuitively what it meant. "While I cannot tell you much about how you got here, Adam, I must tell you this. You are special. A person so special there are only a few dozen like you on the entire planet at any given time. Right now, you are unique and a number of people want you dead. We cannot allow that to happen. We are on our way to see a person who, while he will not be happy to see you, will want to help you because he has no choice." 

"Um, I have to ask, if we are coercing him into helping us, won't that make him resentful and maybe kill us too?" 

"That is true. And it is even more likely he has already been treating with our enemies. But we have something he wants and needs. And to get it back, he would do almost anything." 

I stopped walking for a moment. Sand is hard to walk in and my feet were already cramping. I looked in my pockets and noticed nothing but a few extra clips of ammunition, a nutrition bar I eyed hungrily, but reasoned I had no idea when my next meal might be, so I put it back. No wallet. No ID. Nice jacket and dual holsters for guns. I did not see anything I had I could bargain with for my potential benefactor to consider helping me. Maybe he liked boots. The ones I was wearing were heavy,  shiny and black. Very comfortable.  

"Okay, so I just took inventory and I don't see anything I have to haggle with unless he has a penchant for really well made, magical firearms or very comfortable footwear." 

There was a series of strange sounds, that took me a minute to realize were laughter. When the hat stopped laughing, it said,  "No, you don't have anything he would want, but when the time comes, you are to offer me in trade for a favor. It will require craft on your part, so don't offer me up until you have everything you want." 

"How will I know when that is?" 

"That young man, is your gift, to be between all things, to be part of everything and nothing, shadow and substance. Between wisdom and foolishness. When you see things looking completely hopeless, you will know its time. Now get back to walking, we have a long way to go before we get there." 

"Where is there?" 

"The boundary between Twilight and Night. The realm of Mr. Black, Master of the Loa."

Equinox © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved [@ebonstorm]

 "Anytime people who are usually ignored decide to credit themselves with recognition, it’s a problem. If people who are often silenced demand a voice, extreme efforts are exhausted to suppress their cries. Whenever there is an emergence of unity from a socially neglected and once dismantled group, those in power scatter for an oppressive solution and attempt to revive the ever so popular “divide and conquer” method. Highlighting subtle differences in hopes to cause the newly proud people to bicker with each other, tear one another down, dismiss what connects us. 

 Our pride is so intimidating. Knowledge of our power is such a threat. Know that. Be aware of the strength that is held in unity. Don’t fight the urge to unite."
by Monochromaticblack
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 5 - Sunstruck 

The Sun rose over a desert. This is not your Sun. Hotter, more pure, the essence of sunlight. Fiercely white-hot, if you found yourself here, you would be nearly blinded for a time. A light so bright it bleached the color out of the world. Once you adjusted you would notice other things about this desert.  

Unlike deserts in the First World, nothing moved here. There was no sign of life, no undercurrent of hidden activity. Nothing, you as a vistor, would recognize, at first. If you spent a hundred years, and you could, because for you time would pass slowly, you would age slower, you would be out of sync with the First World.   

Here in the Second World, you might begin to notice a texture to the light, a shimmering that was different than any other light here. Like a mirage in the desert, it would stand out to you, a discontinuity you could not ignore. If you were more discerning or terribly lonely, you might approach that shimmer, that trick of the light only to find a single immense structure, also made of pure, hardened light.    

If you had lived in the First World during the time of the Roman Empire, you would recognize this building as the great Colosseum of Rome. In all ways, that majestic structure would appear before you the same in every way save one, this one was immune to the ravages of time. No great walls had fallen, no wreckage due to the imperfection of Man. No trauma of earthquakes throughout time. This structure was perfect, permanent and static; unchanging, outside of the forces of Entropy.   

If you were to, now that you have found this Colosseum, continue for another hundred years or so to meditate upon it, you would begin to see signs of life, not as you know it, beings, mere wisps flickering out of the corners of your eyes, nothing you would see straight on, a movement that seemed to move with purpose, malice and forethought; mostly malice.   

Listening intently, you would hear a conversation taking place between two forces. To wrap your mind around them, you might consider them people, if people were to have the power of a hurricane wrapped neatly in a shape slightly resembling a man in the less of those two and if a star were trapped in the body of a giant in the other form. And their conversation would be troubling to you. Because it whispered of a world without darkness, a world perfect with the structure of Order, a world without Change or the forces of Entropy.    

And after three hundred years of listening, you would begin to know the horror of these perfect, shimmering forms of trapped and barely contained power. You would see their idea of what the world should be like and if you are like any rational being with any ideas of free will, you would be, no, should be repulsed. And that would be the correct response. These beings were not evil. They were merely focused on a different way of being.   

"We have failed to acquire the Equinox. The boy has already tainted it toward the Dark." The smaller storm being stood imperiously before the sun-god giant.  

"Are you saying you have failed me?" His voice, hot, shimmered the very air around them.  

"Yes," the storm being thundered in response. A momentary silence followed.  

"Kill yourself immediately."   

"I will, post haste, your Vastness. But I believe our failure may allow us new opportunities."  Another silence.  

"Continue. Your impertinence may still please me."   

"I believe they may decide to seek the Master of the Loa, Mister Black. He has not accepted our treaty, nor denied it outright. Knowing him, he will betray them if it suits him. All we need do is wait for the right moment."   

As if he were explaining to a small child, the sun-god spoke. "Illuminatus, we must take advantage of the transition of Gaia. She is at her weakest. If we can overcome the Darkness during her transition and re-acclimation, she will have no choice but to accept the state of things upon her return. We can simply destroy the opposition and force her to treat with us instead."   

And in a way surely to arouse the ire of his master, the storm being responded. "I was under the impression unless we were able to harness the power of the Radiant Ones, we would not have the ability to resist her. She is the greatest power in the First World, unparalleled. She cast all of us out during one of our earliest wars and forbade us using our powers fully in the First World. If we did not mask our powers in the Veil, she would have detected our many conflicts. It is only because our human operatives are so weak and puny that she remains unaware of our plans as it is."   

"All of that is true. Which is why your next mission is to bring the Radiant Ones into the fold." If a sun-god of blazing solar light could be said to smile, this would be the feeling you might sense from him. A strange, good humor.  

"I thought you had agreed to spare my life. To go to the realm of the Radiant Ones is to court destruction."   

"Are you saying you are not interested in the mission?"   

"I would be only too happy to serve you in this vital operation. The Radiant Ones live at the very edge of the Second Realm. It will take time and resources to reach them. I was under the impression you still valued my abilities and had spared my life."  

"I did, but if you fail to secure their cooperation, then you would resolve my need to replace you with someone more... effective."  
  
"By your command." 
  
"Before you go to the land of the Radiant Ones, you take my decree to the Master of the Loa. Let him know he is out of time. He is to join us, or you are to take your army and destroy him, utterly. Destroy his clan, the Loa, and any of his offspring. When the Equinox seeks him out, I want him to find my servant or nothing to offer him hope at all. Then you can bring the Radiant Ones to my court." 
  
"Absolutely, your Immenseness. Your will be done. He will join us or die." 
  
In a flash of heat lightning, the storm being would vanish, leaving a pile of steaming glass in the desert floor of the Colosseum. The sun god might look in your direction, sense your attentions and with a flash of light, oust you from the Second Realm. You would be only too glad to be gone from that place.

Jump to Chapter 6

Equinox © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved [@ebonstorm]

I was a little shocked this morning when I was checking emails and upcoming events and realized that I was in the future.

The new black is now.

If the “Attending” numbers on Facebook events are accurate, then tomorrow night the African American Arts and Cultural Center in San Francisco will be overrun with approximately 300 black/afro/futurist/punk/geeks and the people who roll with them. The opening of Black Diamonds Shining’s “The Black Futurists” exhibit and accompanying two month schedule of events, performances and film screenings sound like a love song that’ll lure in all sectors of the Bay’s black outlier culture. The ones usually only glimpsed on the deepest house dance floors, select street art installations and the most underground art events.

A couple weeks after that, the much YouTubed TED conference is getting the Black to the Future treatment, when Berlin based Afrofuturistsaxtechologist Onyx Ashanti takes the stage to show off the latest evolution of his Beat Jazz project-an open source, woodwind mimicking, motion sensitive, MIDI music system.

In September, South Africa will see the 4th installment of the annual Pan African Space Station, a 30 day music and arts festival and “cross-cultural and cyber-spatial exploration, bringing together diverse pan-African sounds from ancient techno to future roots.” The event features everything from musical tributes to Steve Biko and  Busi Mhlongo to performances by Doctor Philip Tabane & Malombo and Theo Parish.

And in true “seen it like a Zenith” steez, Black Rock evangelist, cultural curator and community catalyst Rob Fields recently announced that on October 17th he’s hosting theFestival of the New Black Imagination in, where else but the black planet of Brooklyn. The Festival sounds like a place where all the corners of black creativity can converge and add ingredients to the next serving of cultural cosmic slop.

If you’re looking for the next “It”, it’s here. If you’re looking for African diaspora folks who’re on something different, you really, really don’t have to look too hard. The forward thinking, tech savvy, community building tribes mainstream culture has been “searching” for-those “positive”, nuanced portraits of black folks-are being created in hyper real, augmented reality.

My eyes started to open about the 5th grade. We lived in the new projects built on a fresh landfill. It was sweet for a while, then we got our own house where I became a teen. Looking back I saw the pattern how the urge of care produced a big bang of built progress, but no sustainability in people.

We'd all cry out "unfair!", get smoothed over with fanfare, then slide again into despair. I remember castoff teachers and bullies in school. How I wished I could blame them today, my foundations are as stable as the landfill we lived on. The trouble with me was the wakeup was slow, my timing was off. Perhaps I could have compensated for the lacks in the system and made alternative choices. There were parallel circumstances going on that threw me off. I kept waking up and going back to sleep. Soon I realized sleep helped me not deal with some complexities of life. I fought harder to awaken.

All this time I cursed my brain, a run away explorer, taking opportunity when no opportunity was there. Busy wither I had the skills, tools or not. It made use of everything awake or sleep. I had to tinker, had to draw, had to act out, had to act up, I had to, I just had to. To grow a developing brain is hard without skills, tools. No math to speak of, ironic I became a draftsman. No science yet I formulate many ideas that require science. Some times I lay on my bed, eyes unable to close. Something had removed the little light-bulb of ideas and replaced it with a photographer's flash. Flash, flash, flash, soon like a deer in the headlights, I see you but don't. It's grand, too grand to draw, too grand to write down. Funny thing is that I thought they were fleeing images passing through me, then gone forever. Now I realize they are my realizations of the whole world I know. No wait, I've seen this before. The soul is the present, the spirit is ancient. I extend my soul, there is want of filling. Like the landfill of my old neighborhood, it is not able to sustain. I touch the spirit, there is rest but an overwhelming fullness. You can't be empty, you can't be full, your awareness can't take it, so we struggle to awake somewhere between the two.......This has been science fiction radio, the attack of the creative brain.

For those of you 'jonesin' for your favorite Goddess in mortal guise, the Priestess is back! The Aesir Chief is searching for his men, but the Slave-Trader King and his sorceress Aunt are looking for him as well! Can the Chief find his men and get them out of the Citadel of Aduni before the King's forces find him? Will the Chief encounter the 'Man in the Black Mask' the Valley Knight warned him about and if he does, will the Chief stop at nothing to free his men? Find out in the latest phase of the Priestess Saga, "All Things Bearing Fruit" Part I!

All Hail the Priestess!

African and Non-African Populations Intermixed Well After Migration out of Africa 60,000 Years Ago, Genome Studies Show

New genome studies reveal that African and non-African populations continued to exchange genetic material well after migration out of Africa 60,000 years ago. (Credit: © Sailorr / Fotolia)

ScienceDaily (July 13, 2011) — Researchers have probed deeper into human evolution by developing an elegant new technique to analyse whole genomes from different populations. One key finding from the Wellcome Trust Sanger Institute's study is that African and non-African populations continued to exchange genetic material well after migration out-of-Africa 60,000 years ago. This shows that interbreeding between these groups continued long after the original exodus.

For the first time genomic archaeologists are able to infer population size and history using single genomes, a technique that makes fewer assumptions than existing methods, allowing for more detailed insights. It provides a fresh view of the history of humankind from 10,000 to one million years ago.

"Using this algorithm, we were able to provide new insights into our human history," says Dr Richard Durbin, joint head of Human Genetics and leader of the Genome Informatics Group at the Sanger Institute. "First, we see an apparent increase in effective human population numbers around the time that modern humans arose in Africa over 100,000 years ago.

"Second, when we look at non-African individuals from Europe and East Asia, we see a shared history of a dramatic reduction in population, or bottleneck, starting about 60,000 years ago, as others have also observed. But unlike previous studies we also see evidence for continuing genetic exchange with African populations for tens of thousands of years after the initial out-of-Africa bottleneck until 20,000 to 40,000 years ago.

"Previous methods to explore these questions using genetic data have looked at a subset of the human genome. Our new approach uses the whole sequence of single individuals, and relies on fewer assumptions. Using such techniques we will be able to capitalize on the revolution in genome sequencing and analysis from projects such as The 1000 Genomes Project, and, as more people are sequenced, build a progressively finer detail picture of human genetic history."

The team sequenced and compared four male genomes: one each from China, Europe, Korea and West Africa respectively. The researchers found that, although the African and non-African populations might have started to differentiate as early as 100,000 to 120,000 years ago, they largely remained as one population until approximately 60,000 to 80,000 years ago.

Following this the European and East Asian ancestors went through a period where their effective population size crashed to approximately one-tenth of its earlier size, overlapping the period when modern human fossils and artefacts start to appear across Europe and Asia. But, for at least the first 20,000 years of this period, it appears that the out-of-Africa and African populations were not genetically separated. A possible explanation could be that new emigrants from Africa continued to join the out-of-Africa populations long after the original exodus.

"This elegant tool provides opportunities for further research to enable us to learn more about population history," says co-author Heng Li, from the Sanger Institute. "Each human genome contains information from the mother and the father, and the differences between these at any place in the genome carry information about its history. Since the genome sequence is so large, we can combine the information from tens of thousands of different places in the genome to build up a composite history of the ancestral contributions to the particular individual who was sequenced.

"We can also get at the historical relationship between two different ancestral populations by comparing the X chromosomes from two males. This works because men only have one copy of the X chromosome each, so we can combine the X chromosomes of two men and treat them in the same way as the rest of the genome for one person, with the results telling us about the way in which the ancestral populations of the two men separated.

"The novel statistical method we developed is computationally efficient and doesn't make restrictive assumptions about the way that population size changed. Although not inconsistent with previous results, these findings allow new types of historical events to be explored, leading to new observations about the history of mankind." The researchers believe that this technique can be developed further to enable even more fine-grained discoveries by sequencing multiple genomes from different populations. In addition, beyond human history, there is also the potential to investigate the population size history of other species for which a single genome sequence has been obtained.

Story Source:

The above story is reprinted (with editorial adaptations by ScienceDaily staff) from materials provided by Wellcome Trust Sanger Institute, via EurekAlert!, a service of AAAS.

Chapter 4 - Room with some views

I was going to try to describe what I saw but I am not sure I have words for it. Put on a blindfold, cover your eyes, turn out the lights, and then head out to sea on a cloudy night. That is the kind of darkness we are talking about. I have never known darkness in my entire life. I have always seen in the night like it was, at worst, a kind of dusk. And its not like the kind of stuff where when you close your eyes, you see those lights from your optic nerve firing. Your optic nerve wouldn't dare to illuminate this darkness. 

Then there was a point, far away and we seemed to be falling toward it, and as we approached, that feeling of falling came to me, that unbalanced feeling you get as you start flailing about and realize you are about to come to an uncomfortable, sudden stop. I started waving my arms about, and screaming as I, since I did not see anyone else but me, I thought I was about to become a bug on a glowing windshield. I slammed into the ground face down and made a tiny bounce before settling to a painful and unpleasant landing. 

"Get up." A hobnailed boot punctuated that command by further traumatizing my rib cage.  

"Ow. And I was just starting to get comfortable down here. Was that first class?" 

Then I noticed the feet standing in front of my head as I started looking up. They were connected to very powerful legs and each thigh looked like it would be comfortable on a body builder. Then I found myself being lifted by the back of my collar into the air. "Is this it? This is the savior of the Six? I thought it would be bigger." 

"It is a he, Shango. Put the boy down." Kali's voice had a completely different tone. Warm, gentle. Was this the woman that made me question my very existence a few seconds ago? Shango. Why was that name familiar? Shango, the Thunderer? Shango, Thundergod of the continent of Africa? 

"Why is it, that I can't see the boy, then?" What is this black matter covering him?" Shango took a finger the size of my hand and wiped it across my forehead. A sticky swath of darkness followed his finger before disintegrating in a crackle of lightning. 

Umbra raised his head and put his hat back on. "Begging your pardon, Thunderer, the Equinox has determined that you are a threat and is attempting to protect the boy. I think we can fix that." 

"Is that what you call protection, Dark One? He would be better naked." 

Ms. Hart glared at Shango and reached out to take me from him. "Do not mistake his apparent lack of control for weakness, Great One. His power may not rival yours, but among his kind, it is not to be trifled with." 

"Do not mind my rude husband. I half expect he was hoping the Equinox would arrive and be attacking him to alleviate his boredom at watching the Nexus. Please come into the tower so we can talk in comfort." 

Ms. Hart gently placed me on the ground and brushed off some of the strange particles which were clinging to me. Then she and Umbra took my hands and the Equinox retreated into my body but remained hot in my chest. I also noticed all of my injuries of our recent travails were slowly diminishing. We walked around Shango who appeared to be looking out into the darkness and seemed to lose interest in us. He was a giant, easily seven feet tall and in his belt was a huge double headed axe, that bristled with electrical energy. As I walked by, I kept staring at it and a bolt of static electricity shot out to me, as if to tell me to mind my business. I promptly did. I think I saw Shango smiling. 

We went into what she called the Tower, but it was not like any tower I had ever seen. It was made from some kind of shiny stone like onyx, and when I touched it in passing, I immediately felt at home and welcomed. We walked to the center of the main floor and there was a sigil at the center. I did not recognize it immediately but everyone else walked toward it and got inside the lines. Trying to look like I knew what I was doing I joined them. 

The inside of the tower was lit and showed a collection of unusual objects, many looked like armor or art objects. The closest thing I could think of was a museum, except nothing was under glass, and many of the weapons looked very functional. The place was swimming in sigils of power, they floated through the air, and many of them when they passed me, sang out to me, telling me of their puissance, and the danger one would be in if one was to be so foolish as to touch anything here. No need to threaten me, I wasn't going to touch a thing.

With less than a second of apparent time, we appeared in what looked like a modern apartment. The kind my father never seemed to want to stay in for more than a few days. Lots of room, lights and windows. But it was the windows that were the most fascinating. Each looked out onto a different place. I recognized more than half of them as places we had lived. I found Paris, New York, Bangladesh, Hong Kong and I found myself running off to see where each of them went. When I was done, I came back to the coffee table that was in the center of the space and the others were already having coffee and talking. 

"Finished sight-seeing? Umbra was graciously accepting a cigar from Kali. "You might want to come over here. This concerns you." Kali proffered the cigars to me, and I looked at Ms. Hart. She shook her head and I politely said no. 

"He is a man, now, Hart. You will be asking him to risk his life. He should at least have all of the pleasures a man could know." As Kali said this she was looking at me in a manner that immediately made me uncomfortable. 

"He is not ready for the particular pleasure of any gifts of yours, Lady Kali. He does not understand the obligation it would place on him. His knowledge of the Second World is still incomplete." 

"Then you had better complete that education, because where he has to go, he must represent all of the missing clans and understand the obligations he current holds. He stands here completely unaware of his already considerable debt." 

I had enough of not knowing what they were talking about. "Someone needs to tell me what you are talking about. Especially this risking my life thing. I did not agree to risk my life for anyone. All I know is my father is dead, my governess is a superhero, she has friends who can make shadows come to life, and parties with mythical beings who are living in a tower with windows that look out over two dozen cities in real time. Did I sum that up right?" 

Ms. Hart looked at me and smiled, the first genuine smile I had seen in quite some time. "In reverse order, those are not windows, those are doors. You can walk through any of them and go to the places seen in them. In addition they can be changed so while there are two dozen current settings, they can actually be set to go anywhere on Earth, depending on the willpower of the person using them. Lady Kali and Lord Shango are not myths. They are people who currently embody the mythological energies of the mythical beings. They were once normal people like you or I who were changed by a divine decree. If they want to tell you more, it is up to them. Suffice it to say, their power, dwarfs anything you or I can do. But their limitations are also as interesting as their powers. Your governess is not a superhero, but the difference to you may not matter much. And Umbra is much like you, part of his powers are derived from the Darkness, a primal force in our universe. And as much as I hate to admit it, your father is dead. He died protecting you. He spent his life trying to see that you would not have to become the Equinox. He did not want this for you. But he prepared you in case it came to this. Did I miss anything? Do you want that drink now?"

I sat down and tried to organize my thoughts. "Why did they kill him? And who or what is The Light? 

Umbra looked up from his contemplation, tipped his hat back and said, "I guess, since we just entered storytelling time, I better go first." 

Nothing I heard this evening up to this point prepared me for what he said next. Not even close.

Jump to Chapter 5

Equinox © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved [@ebonstorm]