BLOGS

Mid Life The Villain

Hey folks. just letting those who're interested in comics know that GENRE 19's first ebook, ASHCANS, is available at AMAZON.

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Beast of Belly..a Burden

He howls loud, especially at night..shouting for release. Yelling to be free.

Pangs and miserable moans..growling..to be heard.

Be still Jackal.  I have nothing for you today.

Kicking me with his bent over slate toes..his withering varicose legs; distorted and cadaverous.

With long curled silver nails, he  slashes stripes out of my intestines.

Grown accustomed to his pain..I ignore him.

Distressed he pleads.."I wanna get out..Please."

With a spoonful of sugar and the darkest rum, I try to soothe him.  But, he slobbers it out..bubbling the liquor from his blue lips.

Soon after, I run a warm bath of sweet milk and honey. Followed by a gentle massage of  Lavender, Juniper Juice and Almond Oil. I had hopes of relaxing him and changing his mood. But, instead the ritual just incited his deviance even further.

He flailed and bawled..cringed and grunted. Contemplated and conspired on his next move.  Childishly, thumping me with his fingers.

"Let me out..Bitch!"..he bursts.  His bloody tongue spitting and squirting diseased lies. Conjuring up horrid tales while holding my ovaries between his teeth..

He gushes..."I'll do it Bitch..You know I will. I'll crush em!"..juices swirling between his slurred speech.

Complacent.. I whisper.. Be quiet Jackal.  Not today.

I stroke and press... delicately; to soothe him.

He whines and bellows..elbowing my sides..  kneeing my navel.

"I hate you girl. I fucking hate you." (with heavy breath)

Alright, Jackal.. I know. Just calm down. Shh..I hold and rock him....

From each side he bumps.. "Li..aaah!!!"  he screams. "Let me out..Bitch..let me out!"  He tantrums and shakes.

I sigh..Jackal you're not being fair.. Stop it.

In the evening, I cook a full meal.  Fresh greens, and rich grains.  A sweet potato pie topped with whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles. Red wine and mint garnish.

My Grandmother's gold-rimmed china, and the best silver.  A beautiful, pink, silk, beaded table napkin, rests on my lap.

Eat up Jackal..it's good.... I smile.

He groans..and rattles.  Every bite I try to feed him..he blows back. I hiccup and burp. Desperately trying to hold the food down.

I fizzle... Stop it!  Jackal, Stop it..your gonna make me sick.

I inhale and huff, then return to my meal.  Watching the dark sky..and the ivory chiffon curtains vibrate from the open window. Candle wax drips into it's  holder; it's light beautifully flickering. A peaceful scene. Serene and tranquil.

I raise my fork again.. A small bite I take..

He spews it out..over my chin.

Quickly I wipe, and slam the fork onto the table.. "Dammit Jackal!!! I said not tonight!  I just wanted to have a peaceful meal..for once!"

I push myself from the table, allowing the pretty napkin to fall.

Snatch up the plate and utensils... Drown the candle ... then toss everything in the trash.

My stomach ripples and shakes.

Angry and silent.  Aggressively panting and perspiring I grab my keys, my purse, a coat, the trash, and out the backdoor I go.

Jackal's skittish and merry..Clapping his idiotic hands..  "Yes..Yes.."

"Fuck YOU Jackal." I snare.

His heels are pressing into my pelvis.. Upright he stands in me. Straight and Firm.  Properly saluting me, in all too familiar fashion.

I toss the bag into the dumpster.

Stomp around to the front. Yank open the car door, drive the car into the garage with door still open.  Pull down the garage door. Lock.  Then, head down the road.

My breath is uneasy. I'm jittery and edgy. I tell myself to calm down. I try to slow down my breathing and gather my thoughts, but it's difficult.

The swirling dust and the cool air ignite me. Balling my fist..I scream as loud as I can.. (yelling at the stars) "Why is this happening?!"

With a deep inhale, I shake my head. Quickly resolving that everything, (all of "this")... is in-fact bull shit. Softly muttering, "I can't eat, sleep, or be still. I'll never be at peace. I hate it."

My lips perch..and anger turns into frustration. Frustration with Jackal for not compromising. For not seeing things my way. For ALWAYS getting what he wants.

Mad I turn inward..

"Ya hate me, Jackal?  Well, I fucking loathe You! I LOATHE you!"

Tickled he smiles.  Rubbing my belly from the inside.  "I don't hate you.  I don't hate you.." he wickedly sings.

He playfully pinches me. Distorting his voice to sound just like mine.  Mocking me..  "I loathe you."  Amused...we both laugh.

I get myself together, and pick up the pace; as if aware of my destination. Quickly and swiftly walking. But, soon tired and muddled.

We stroll for miles. With hesitation and confusion, I linger in the darkness. Aimlessly wandering. Kicking rocks in my cowgirl boots. Wanting to return home, but knowing that I won't be able too. Distraught with what I've become but aware of my lack of choice.

"I hate this. I really hate this.   But, Jackal's all I have. I have no one but him." I whisper between bitten lips.

In comfort, I submit. I breathe.

Anxiously, he sways.  I pat him still. Once again, my baby. My only friend.

"I know where we'll go!" I smile.

I turn the corner to the bus station.. We take the bus for a couple of blocks and arrive at the subway.

On the train..

He dances and hums.  I twirl my hair and wring the sweat from my hands.

He squeals the number of stops the train takes.  "1..2..3..4..5..

As I rise..he excitedly bops around in me.

"6!!!" he yells. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Off..the train, and a skip of a couple blocks.  We march.

Twilight shuffling through the white double doors with the chipped paint.

Dips and twists and Dally Oh's..pack the box. Lush taverns full of spicy spirits

Lavish Bellies Boast

Beast of Belly..a Burden

A trip up on squeaky stool with turned metal and scarlet slashed vinyl

fogged glasses of  Sailor brew and lonesome cherries.

Old smoke a burning...heavy coughs and cruddy cigars

blackened mirrors, dusty shelves and dark wine.

We sit at the bar..drinking and patiently waiting.

A brush of my shoulder and.... "Here we go."

Jackal quietly listens.

"Hey Sweetness..I haven't seen you in a while."

" Hello.  Well, I don't think I've ever seen you." I flirt. Surveying him all over. "It's him. he's the one!" Jackal squawks.

"Do you mind?" he motions toward the seat next to me.  "No, it's fine."

The bartender winks and slides my second drink.  "Thanks Harry." I murmur within my glass

"Uh..I got it." Handing his credit card out to Harry. "Alright Man" yaps Harry, while giving me a side-eye look.

We talk for a while..until Jackal grows restless.

"Huu-aaa-ah.."I give out a fake yawn.  "Okay. I think I'll call it a night."

I uneasily rise.  Slightly off-balance and slipping off of my seat. Fast, he backs me up and gently anchors me;  just like I knew he would.

Smiling he questions.  "I hope you're not trying to drive?  I can take you home, if you like?"

I giggle.  "Yeah, that may be best.  I don't think I'm gonna make it."

I flap my wrist at Harry.. He throws the guy my coat..and we stumble out the door.

"I'm parked in the back." holding me up by my waist.  "Your not gonna be sick are ya?"  I chuckle.. "Nah, I'm fine. Your not gonna be sick are ya?" I slyly giggle.

A cherry-red pick up truck awaits. "Nice truck" I slither.

"What is that you do again?"  I ask.  "I work construction."

"Right." I smile. "I guess that makes you pretty strong, hunh?" I flirt and  squeeze his biceps."

Blushing, he helps me up into the truck..Gently strapping me in.  "Comfy?"

"Yep.. Totally." I snicker

He locks and shuts the door then unlocks and opens the other.

Once he's seated I watch him.

Nice looking guy. Clean cut and clear complexion. Kinda plain actually.  No jewelry or watch. His knuckles were awfully red, though.   A couple of old scars and scratches up his arm. There doesn't seem to be any other distinguishable marks. He appears to keep to himself, neat from hat to pants..shoes were filthy.  But, he's into construction.. so I guess that explains it.

Jackal pokes me.. "You like him?"

"Ah..I guess. He's attractive enough."

I tell him where to go..he follows, exactly.

"Hey..my house is just up that road"..still slurring my words.

"Oh yeah? How long have you lived here?"

"All my life.  It was my Great Grandparents house".

Up the winding road we go.. the wheels popping dust and gravel.

"Wow..this is a lot of land.  You live here alone?"

I cough..to hold Jackal down.. "Yes.  I live here alone."

".....Humph. Pretty nice."

We park..

I stumble out of the car..just to rouse him up a bit.  He hurriedly comes to my aid. .  up the porch we climb. He helps me up the stairs and holds me tight.

"Just push the door..it's open"..

"You don't lock your door?"  I laugh drunkenly...  "Nope.".   "Why not?" he asked; sounding a bit puzzled. "There's no need.  No one's gonna come to [this] house.  I've never had a problem.  I guess people just know not to mess with this old place."  Lightly giggling as we enter the foyer.

"Hmm...but aren't..?"

I interrupt his next question with the sound of one of my boots flailing against the hallway wall.  I kick off the other and toss my coat and purse to the side.   Wobbling on tip-toes, I face the steps.. Holding tight to the banister with my left hand, and unzipping the back of my skirt with the right.  Carefully, stepping out of it,while heading up the stairs. I feel him watching. From the corner of my eye, I peek.."You coming?" and purposefully swinging my hair.  Breathy, he accepts. The wood bends as he climbs. I hear his keys cling in his pocket. The rustle of his jacket, tenderly rubbing under his arm. His jeans stiff and pressed and the firm clap of his shoes as he steps.

Ahead of him I stay.  Dropping pieces for him to follow...shirt, bra..panties..
At the end of the hall I wait...naked and back facing him in the doorway.

Anxious, I sweat. My chest shivers and rises. Within a slight shake and he's on-top of me. His chin resting on the top of my head. The zipper of his jacket scratching my back.

"Your very beautiful".

"Thank you" I whisper.

He places his hands on top of my wrists..holding them gently to the door posts.

Is this your room?  "Yes".

"Can we go in?"  My tummy rumbles.. "Yes".  He playfully pauses...."Wait, are you hungry?" and kisses my neck.  "Something like that.." I smile

Heavily he presses against me.. His breath is racy.  Releasing one of my wrists he pushes open the door.

Sweet scents explode from the room.  Dimly lit by the nights sky.  The moon; full and bright. The room; dark and bare. Empty, except for the bed in the center. White bedding and cherry wood head-board. Dark chocolate wood floor. Crimson curtains blow in the distance.

"Umph. Simple and Sweet.". he states.  "Yep." I agree

Directing me toward the bed..we walk. Holding me by my shoulders and caressing down my arms..  "Turn around...I want to see you".

Softly, I say.. "No. I like you here". "Oh?" he questions.  "I mean, I like you were you are"..I correct.

"Oh..okay."  He begins to kiss me. My shoulders, my neck and the center of my back. Tenderly, he pecks at my sides..firmly massaging my thighs.  I (remorsefully) crawl on the bed. Laying on my stomach. Resting and relaxing.

He quietly removes his clothes. Neatly placing his shoes together. Folding over his jacket and pants and carefully placing his shirt on top.

Starting from my feet and ankles, he rubs up. Deep and firm with whole hands. I sigh..and converse with Jackal.  "I like this.  I really like this. He seems nice, now." Jackal shushes me.  "Shut up girl..I cant hear."

He massages my back. Affectionately, paying attention to every part.   At my neck he nestles; sucking my earlobe then lifting my hair out-of-the-way.  I feel his hesitation..

""What's this?" slightly raising from me to take a better view. Dismayed, he dauntingly asks "What happened?"

"Ah"..I exhale.  "I was in an accident a few years back.  I had to have surgery, and that's my scar".

"Wow!..you don't mind do you?"  gesturing if it's okay to further inspect.

"No. I don't mind."  He further lifts my hair.

"What kind of accident was this?  It had to be a very bad one. The scar stretches from the back to the front of your head.  With your hair..though..it's not noticeable."

Too free and rambling with his words and questions, I grow weary and bury my face in the bed.  "Oh. I'm sorry.  I don't want to offend you. It's just..that.."

I stop him before he continues.."It's ok. Really. I understand."

He rubs his finger along the ridges.  "Is this metal?"

Yes. (dryly)

Wow..your lucky to be alive.

"I know." (dryly).

"So did they.."

"Look! can we please get back to where we were before you found the scar?  I've heard and answered the same questions a thousand times before.  I uneasily plead..Please?" while stiffening my body.

He leans to the side of me..trying to get a glimpse of my face.. Hovering at my shoulders..."I'm sorry.  Really, I do apologize. I can be an idiot sometimes. Forgive me?"

I turn further away from him and secretly smile.

He ducks around me, sheltering me. "You are really pretty."  I've never met anyone like you."

Jackal coughs and laughs.  "Eek..Bullshit. He's bullshit..Gal."

"Do it..Do it. Do it"

I moan, instead of replying. Arching and curving my back. My body heats and pulses.

He gently moves with me.

I moaned more;  rolling back and forth against him.

"Wow..your getting hot." excitedly kissing my neck.  He tries to move with me..at my pace, but can't catch up. He wraps his arms around my waist to hold me and pull me closer.

I release more.

"Your skin is so warm..your really heating up".

Entranced, I could barely hear him.  He kept trying to view my face but my movement was making it difficult.

My head grew heavy and disjointed. I twisted back and forth, vibrating and shifting.  My belly tightened and narrowed. Deeply inside me it tucked. Forcing my breast up and my shoulders back..

I grieved and mumbled. Whined and uttered.

He tries to grab hold.."Be still. Be still."  Frustrated, he forcefully tries to restrain me to enter me.

In the distance I heard him seek..."Are you alright?  Hey, what about me?  What did you say? What's the hell going on?"

Up me Jackal scurried, scrambling at each side of my breast, whirling through my ribs and into my spine.  Hurriedly tumbling about.  He whizzed and bustled. Causing my body to rise and fall in inscrutable ways. Bony lumps poked through my skin. Contracting and constricting simultaneously.

Moans turned to groans.

Passion turned to fear.

Groans soon turned to hollers..

Hollers turned to limp prayers...."Our Father Who art in heaven hallowed be thy name..thy kingdom come..thy will be..."

Out of me he leaped. Jackal climbed into the spaces of his speech and left his lips dangling.  Each side of the man's jaw twisted. A slow stream of liquid fell from his eyes, while his pupils stayed on me. We watched each other as Jackal riddled his body.

Permeating each sector, perforating his pulmonary artery.  Sipping from his spleen and chewing on his liver. Continuously searching. "Where?..Where?" I hear him call out. Ducking underneath his left Kidneys. "Where is it? You sick bastard?"  He spins around his bladder, up to his large intestine and then around his small intestine..plucking it with his index finger..He sniffs.  "Ha!" He snatches another piece of it with his nail. Licks and clicks his tongue. "Yep."

Behind his small intestine hid a filthy secret. A war crime long forgotten. A sin he thought he paid for. Vowing never to repeat or speak of the atrocity he committed 20 years ago...he assumed it was over. He went to church almost every Sunday. He prayed every day. He repented; (he thought).

But, each night the ghastly deed would enter his slumber. A history and tragedy constantly retold. A haunting of a memory that he had so hoped would end. But, not because of its content, because of his embarrassment.  A shameful secret forced to be divulged.

It was in Mahmudiyah, South of Baghdad, he and five other soldiers were drinking and playing cards a their assigned checkpoint.  One soldier spoke of a young Iraqi girl he'd often seen doing chores in a house just up the road. He obsessed over her to the group and boasted of how he'd been hunting her for weeks. He suggested that they all go have some fun with her.  A couple of more swigs..and it was a go.

In bright desert sun, the team, holding tight to their weapons entered the home. Taking hostage the girl's family in one room, while raping her in a another. Three of them repeatedly raped and tortured the 14 yr. old girl. In a fog and confused, he was unsure to take part. So, he watched.  At one point, a comrade asked him to hold her ankles because she was rapidly flailing about. He obliged.  He watched uneasy yet excited. Dumb, numb and struck. Dazed he was unable to hear the gunshots in the far bedroom.  To drunk to hear them announce that it "was his turn".  "Tony, come on man..you want some of this..?"  Unresponsive, he just watched.. He watched when they shot and killed her and cautiously backed away as they poured kerosene and lit a match. Hot from the flames off of the burning bodies and drenched of sweat and blood, he fled with the rest of the pack.

He later testified at the civilian trial, that he was traumatized with fear.  He was already dealing with the stress of war and death. He explained that he was afraid of his fellow officers. Of course never admitting that he was more fearful of what they would think of him, if he had protested or sought help.  He told himself, that it was nothing he could do.  "This is war. There's no discrepancy in war. Is there?"  Comforted for years with his response repeatedly asserting his self-proclaimed declaration..."It was his duty as a soldier to maintain a violent nature. It is necessary in war. He vowed once he had served his time, he would leave it all behind.

So he did.  On the straight and narrow he lived. Never once in a brawl, a dispute, or ever to lose his temper.  Upright and correct.  A Misguided Hero in the eyes of his Commanding Officers and a Silent Soldier to his country.

But Jackal knew.  He knew it as soon as we walked into the bar.  He sensed it.  He called out to the immortality (damnation). He heard the death, lies, and transgression. He found the sin..just like always.

Bit by bit Jackal gobbled each morsel of terror. He cringed in delight with every abomination he swallowed.

Suspended in silence we tracked each other. His gaze panicked and petrified. Paralyzed and stiff.

Me amazed and torn. Tired of the trauma and being used as the beast's portal. So much I've seen and been exposed to. No happiness for me. No man is without sin but the weight of judgement is heavy upon me.

A balancing act. I juggle the sins from hand to hand. Jackal weighs them and Jackal convicts.

At last, he's finished. Jackal burps loud and cackles as he climbs up from the man.

"Here I come, here I come gal"...he yells, proudly.

My eyes water. Dare I admit that I shed tears. No tears have  bled from my eyes, since the accident. Jackal keeps me strong. We do a duty that must be done. No exceptions.

All crimson and grisly..he hangs from the man's tongue.. He winks, then flies through the parts of my teeth, lovingly patting my cheek before he enters.

As soon as he places his feet upon my tongue..my breath returns. I deeply inhale to help him along the way. Easy he slides and slips into my belly.

Motionless The Man sits.

I carefully back away from him. Scooting off the bed and unto the floor. I Grab a neatly folded outfit from underneath the bed. Jeans, t-shirt, wind-breaker and sneakers.

Solemnly, I dress myself  then redress the Man.

His lifeless body is rigorous but I manage. He stares at me; speechless.  His lashes flicker and his eyes stay wide. I'd like to comfort him, but I know I can not. I slightly smile and push him back onto the bed.

"You've been punished for what you did in Baghdad!"  I reassuringly yet assertively say.

"You are without a soul, which means you are dead.  Shortly, you will regain movement of your body, but it will only last for a brief while.  You have to do everything that I say to make your transition easier."

His pupils began to dart.

Listen carefully. As soon as you gain strength in your legs you must immediately leave my home. Get in your truck and go! I intensely watch him, nodding my head for him to agree.

If you do not leave on your own, your time left will be painful. Your speech is limited so dare not speak of this to anyone.

His face starts to twitch. Sadly, I view him.

Before I left the room, I bent to whisper in his ear...

"Such a shame, you were a handsome coward."  I cluck my tongue and whisper more..."You'd better RUN...as soon as you can and as FAST as you can. Victimized Souls are known to claim Salvation in this house."

Bipolar Mirror Skits

"Spooky action at a distance" - Einstein

Artist's view of a single molecule sending a stream of single photons to a second molecule at a distance, in quantum analogy to the radio communication between two stations. Image: Robert Lettow

My girl Takeia created another beautiful profile image of two characters from the Dragon Queen series and Kyle perfected it with his brilliant coloring talent. He made a video to share the process with us. When you get a chance check it out. http://yvonnenicolas.wordpress.com/

“Bonsoir, chérie, Je vous partir
Bonsoir, chérie, Je vous partir
Je vous aime, beaucoup chérie
Bonsoir, chérie, bonsoir….

“Good night Sweetheart, well it’s time to go..” hummed from her throat.

She wore a black pinstriped, pencil length skirt, with tailored white shirt deeply tucked. She loosely toddled with wide hips. Her weight shifting uneasy on her crooked heel; bent from an unfortunate mishap with a sidewalk crack.

A veiled, black Pill Box Hat, covered her dark hair; with a few tasseled strands, flustering about. She oozed step by step. Stealthily, she glided. Her head held high and a yellow clutch buried underneath her armpit. Bright Berried lipstick tainted her lips and way too much rouge hid her cheeks.

Up the concrete steps, she climbed. Holding black banister, and swinging opposite arm shyly behind her.

The glowing orange bell she pressed.

A loosely dressed young woman answered the door. She wore an over-sized, dingy T-shirt that hung from her shoulders. It barely covered her bare bottom.  Her hair was unkempt and a violet bruise on her chest, peeked from underneath.

“Are you her?” she hinted. While slightly opening the door.

“Why, who else would I be, darling?” She mockingly whispered…  Her voice was rasp, husky and slow.  The girl widened the door and she entered..

“He’s in the bedroom at the top of the stairs.” The girl pointed.

“Alright” she briefed.

As the woman turned to leave..  The girl interrupted, “Um. Mam, don’t you need something else?  I mean do you have help coming?”

“Ha!.. No honey, we need this to be discreet. Don’t cha worry none, love.. I got it under control.” She smirked.

She entered the room and discovered a gray haired, critically aged man, sprawled across the bed on his back.  His head lay twisted, his chin was upright, and a single stream of blood hung from the corner of his mouth.

“Tis Tis” She shook her head. “I don’t feel sorry for you, you sick old bastard.” She went behind him, cigar in lip..” Aye honey.. you gotta light?” she called out.

” Uhh..Yes Mam.” She peeped. Up the stairs and in the room she darted. She held the light under the woman’s cigar… “Thanks babe.”   “Hunh hunh.” The girl quickly sang.

“Darling, get that door for me..” said the woman, (nodding toward the bathroom)

“Yes. Mam.”…

She grabbed the man by the top of his arms, and tugged him from the bed to the floor. When his body hit the floor a pop of  blood gushed from underneath him..

“Damn honey, how long has he been dead?”

“Just a couple of hours.” she responded.

“Fuck, this bastard probably didn’t have long to live anyway.” She pulled him into the bathroom and rolled him in the tub.. the clicks of her heels tickled the girl..

Umph. Umph. Umph… She shook her head. “What a mess!” as she glared at the carcass.  “Oh well.” She quickly returned to the bedroom, grabbed her purse, pulled another cigar and eyed the girl.

She leaned on a dresser and stared at the girl. She pitied her.

“Here Hun, light this again“.  The girl quickly came.

“Look here girly.. (While speaking with the cigar between her lips)..Why don’t you go tidy up and put some clothes on, you ain’t got to be naked all the time. Not no mo’.” (She slightly smiled and nodded at her)…”Give me some time and I’ll let cha know when I’m done.” She glanced at her, with piercing eye.

(Softly) “Oh..okay.” the girl murmured, and hesitantly left the room.

The woman shook her head.. .(Poor child..ain’t got a clue) she laughed..”Damn hoes, getting younger and younger, dirty bastards (referring to the men).

She closed and locked the door.  Kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed.

A deep sigh fell from her chest..Oh..well, let me get this over with. She popped open her purse and retrieved a small bottle filled with a clear liquid. She went to the tub and sprinkled it all over the man.  As each drop hit the body..dust rose and small purple burns began to appear..  She muttered some gibberish and a couple of hand movements into the air..and then sprinkled more.  The bathroom soon became filled of nebulous fumes.

She coughed and fanned..smoked and gawked.   Her eyes bulging from the sight of him.  She gagged on the stench.. “Damn.” she grumbled, while fanning the air.

Peering down at him..What kinda hell-hole you come from?  You bout the wickedest piece of shit I din come along on..in a long time.

His body withered, stretched and distorted.  It hissed, and flailed. His gray hair now..scarlet..and ablaze..Wild loose hair sizzled and popped through the air.  At one point, a fiery hair landed on her shirt, she quickly swiped it off..and anxiously brushed all hints of imaginary residue from her clothes.

With disbelief the Woman, watched.

The body convulsed feverishly. The arms jolted and jerked.  Raggedy hands smacking the sides of the tub.  His smoldering legs..army green with melting pea-green skin; flopped up and down.   His toes..bluish gray and turned under..had drooped like rotten grapes.

A blue strange hue outlined him.   His teeth clicked and rot from the root..His thick tongue gushed raspberry bubbles. He groaned and grumbled. Moaned and even seemed to smile.

“Aye! Fada!? What’s dis?” In thick Geechee tongue she questioned and rambled about.  “Oh. Mi.  What kind of sin is deez?  Who’s dis Man, Fada? She shouted.  “Who’s dis Man?”

“He’s wicked for true. I NEVA seen a evil like dis!“   Fast. She placed the bottle on the edge of the bathroom sink, and her hat as well.  She wiped the sweat from her forehead, then quickly reached back to tighten and restrain her hair.

Swiftly, she grabbed the bottle and dosed the man again. An even louder hiss screamed from the man.

She spoke in unknown tongue..and conjured all she had.  Her eyes closed and rolled. Tears trickled from the creases.

She then looked up and spoke into the air.  “Fada..Fada..dis here Angel ain’t right.  He ain’t neva been right.  You made a mistake by lettn dis one down here.  Ya gotta take he and all his shit away from here.  Take he away NOW, Fada.”

Instantly, the room grew dark and full of smoke.  With both arms she swiftly collected it, she gathered, and  firmly constructed (it) into shape with her hands.

She patted and molded.  She slapped and sculpted. Finally, she was finished.

“Whew” she exhaled.

She opened her eyes, and all was well.  The air was clear, the tub was empty, and the smell was fresh.

Carefully, holding (it) in the palm of her hand.  She grabbed (it) with two fingers and rolled it back and forth.  Stretching it out long and making it tight and taut.  She then sealed the ends with spit from her lips.

She grabbed her hat, flipped it over, and placed (it) inside a hidden pocket underneath silver lining.

To the mirror, she retreated.  She observed herself while she washed her hands and face. Fixed her hair. Straightened her clothes and replaced the Pill Box Hat on her head. She tilted, smiled and blew herself a goodbye kiss.

She exited the bathroom, climbed back into her heels, retrieved her purse,  and re-applied her lipstick.

She placed her purse back under her armpit..opened the bedroom door, and called for the girl.

“I’m finished..girl!“. She chimed.

Excitedly, the girl appeared…with high-pitched voice..”Really?!“  She brushed passed the woman and inspected the bedroom and bathroom.  “Wow! There’s nothing left!  What?..how’d you do it?” she stuttered in amazement.

The lady in The Pill Box Hat..looked at the girl, pulled a cigar from her hat and said…

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that girl.” (Smiled) and placed the cigar between her lips…”Hey, let me get that light again?

Any artists or people who know artists, feel free to hop on over to http://bit.ly/zLvAeb and take a look at the project I have going for the design of the cover for my book of shorts, titled Tales from an Apartment.

There will be a $295 prize to the winner.

For Women's History Month:

Fan page: OctaviaButler.net
SFWA page: Octavia E. Butler

Kevin T. Kornegay, PhD

Faculty Profile, Georgia Tech: Kevin Kornegay, PhD

The Nebula nominations were announced today.

AKATA WITCH (a novel set in present-day Nigeria that follows a young Igbo American girl's initiation into a magical secret society and the daring adventures that follow) is a nominee for the Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy Book! 

The masquerades will be out today. ;-)

2011 Nebula Awards Nominees Announced
http://www.sfwa.org/2012/02/2011-nebula-awards-nominees-announced/ 

Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America is proud to announce the nominees for the 2011 Nebula Awards (presented 2012), the nominees for the Ray Bradbury Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation, and the nominees for the Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy Book.

Novel

• Among Others, Jo Walton (Tor)
• Embassytown, China Miéville (Macmillan UK; Del Rey; Subterranean Press)
• Firebird, Jack McDevitt (Ace Books)
• God’s War, Kameron Hurley (Night Shade Books)
• Mechanique: A Tale of the Circus Tresaulti, Genevieve Valentine (Prime Books)
• The Kingdom of Gods, N.K. Jemisin (Orbit US; Orbit UK)

Novella

• “Kiss Me Twice,” Mary Robinette Kowal (Asimov’s Science Fiction, June 2011)
• “Silently and Very Fast,” Catherynne M. Valente (WFSA Press;Clarkesworld Magazine, October 2011)
• “The Ice Owl,” Carolyn Ives Gilman (The Magazine of Fantasy andScience Fiction, November/December 2011)
• “The Man Who Bridged the Mist,” Kij Johnson (Asimov’s Science Fiction, October/November 2011)
• “The Man Who Ended History: A Documentary,” Ken Liu (PanverseThree, Panverse Publishing)
• “With Unclean Hands,” Adam-Troy Castro (Analog Science Fiction andFact, November 2011)

Novelette

• “Fields of Gold,” Rachel Swirsky (Eclipse 4, Night Shade Books)
• “Ray of Light,” Brad R. Torgersen (Analog Science Fiction and Fact, December 2011)
• “Sauerkraut Station,” Ferrett Steinmetz (Giganotosaurus, November 2011)
• “Six Months, Three Days,” Charlie Jane Anders (Tor.com, June 2011)
• “The Migratory Pattern of Dancers,” Katherine Sparrow (Giganotosaurus, July 2011)
• “The Old Equations,” Jake Kerr (Lightspeed Magazine, July 2011)
• “What We Found,” Geoff Ryman (The Magazine of Fantasy and ScienceFiction, September/October 2011)

Short Story

• “Her Husband’s Hands,” Adam-Troy Castro (Lightspeed Magazine, October 2011)
• “Mama, We are Zhenya, Your Son,” Tom Crosshill (Lightspeed Magazine, April 2011)
• “Movement,” Nancy Fulda (Asimov’s Science Fiction, March 2011)
• “Shipbirth,” Aliette de Bodard (Asimov’s Science Fiction, February 2011)
• “The Axiom of Choice,” David W. Goldman (New Haven Review, Winter 2011)
• “The Cartographer Wasps and the Anarchist Bees,” E. Lily Yu (Clarkesworld Magazine, April 2011)
• “The Paper Menagerie,” Ken Liu (The Magazine of Fantasy and ScienceFiction, March/April 2011)

Ray Bradbury Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation

• Attack the Block, Joe Cornish (writer/director) (Optimum Releasing; Screen Gems)
• Captain America: The First Avenger, Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely (writers), Joe Johnston (director) (Paramount)
• Doctor Who: “The Doctor’s Wife,” Neil Gaiman (writer), Richard Clark (director) (BBC Wales)
• Hugo, John Logan (writer), Martin Scorsese (director) (Paramount)
• Midnight in Paris, Woody Allen (writer/director) (Sony)
• Source Code, Ben Ripley (writer), Duncan Jones (director) (Summit)
• The Adjustment Bureau, George Nolfi (writer/director) (Universal)

 Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and FantasyBook

• Akata Witch, Nnedi Okorafor (Viking Juvenile)
• Chime, Franny Billingsley (Dial Books; Bloomsbury)
• Daughter of Smoke and Bone, Laini Taylor (Little, Brown Books for Young Readers; Hodder & Stoughton)
• Everybody Sees the Ants, A.S. King (Little, Brown Books for Young Readers)
• The Boy at the End of the World, Greg van Eekhout (Bloomsbury Children’s Books)
• The Freedom Maze, Delia Sherman (Big Mouth House)
• The Girl of Fire and Thorns, Rae Carson (Greenwillow Books)
• Ultraviolet, R.J. Anderson (Orchard Books; Carolrhoda Books)

The winners will be announced at SFWA’s 47^th Annual Nebula Awards Weekend, to be held Thursday through Sunday, May 17 to May 20, 2012 at the Hyatt Regency Crystal City in Arlington, Virginia, near Reagan National Airport. As announced earlier this year, Connie Willis will be the recipient of the 2011 Damon Knight Grand Master Award for her lifetime contributions and achievements in the field. Walter Jon Williams will preside as toastmaster, with Astronaut Michael Fincke as keynote speaker.

The Nebula Awards are voted on, and presented by, active members of  SFWA. Voting will open to SFWA Active members on March 1 and close on March 30.  More information on voting is available here.

Founded in 1965 by the late Damon Knight, Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America brings together the most successful and daring writers of speculative fiction throughout the world.

Since its inception, SFWA® has grown in numbers and influence until it is now widely recognized as one of the most effective non-profit writers’ organizations in existence, boasting a membership of approximately 2,000 science fiction and fantasy writers as well as artists, editors and allied professionals.  Each year the organization presents the prestigious Nebula Awards® for the year’s best literary and dramatic works of speculative fiction.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 20th, 2012 at 7:58 am and is filed under Nebula Awards, News, SFWA Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Greetings and salutations! I have a new short story available as a free download. It is about Marc, who had lived a wild life full of partying and sex. When he is involved in a car accident, he reunites with a mysterious shaman from his childhood and begins to question if his life was merely a futile search to find love. 

The book is for mature (18+) audiences only, as it has images that might be inappropriate for younger readers. It is also not safe for work (NSFW).

You can read & download it on Scribd or download it for various formats (Kindle, ePub, PDF, etc) on Smashwords.

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy it.

Words = Life,
A. Jarrell Hayes 

Lydia Thomas, PhD

Mitretek is now Noblis, Dr. Thomas is President and CEO of the company.

2003 Black Engineer of the Year: Lydia Thomas, PhD
Press Release: Mitretek Systems Changes Name to Noblis

     “Apprentice.”

     “Yes, master.”

     “It’s time.”

     I help him up and walk him into his study. He is paper-thin, light like a bird, a wisp of the force I remember from my youth. I can feel the fire burning through him, my second sight, even shielded cannot block the visions of his power. I help him to his workbench, a central seat of his gift. It was only as we drew close could I sense it.

     The bracelet. It shimmered in darkness the way his power glowed brightly. A cool black metal that flickered like glass, lit from within with a sinister madness. This was my last time to say no.

     Once he sits, his palsy stops when he picks it up. His eyes harden like flint and his unspoken gaze beckons me to sit across from  him. The light from the power within him dims. “Once you put this on, you will enter our Order. There is no release, no resistance, no rest from Ouroboros, her power is complete and unending. Do you understand?”

     Of course I did. This was what I trained for this last fifteen years. This decision would mark my journey to true power.

     “I know that look, boy. You think, you are getting what you want. Do you think I don’t know what you’re feeling? I sat there once.”

     “Master, I am just eager to begin our work.”

     “Don’t be in such a rush to go out and subjugate the world.”

     “Master…”

     “Spare me. Your lust for power was why you were chosen. Ouroboros requires strong passion, better to harness your gift.”

     “Harness my gift?”

     “Give me your hand, child. This is not a toy, or just a tool. It is a weapon coupled with your intent. Fail to harness your intent and it will kill you.”

     He rubs the bracelet and taps it on his stone workbench. He taps it again. And again. The flat sound echoes across my senses, first a ripple, then a tide. Then a crack appears in the surface of the stone. Ironwood, once was living, now a metallic stone, one of the hardest natural substances, cracks, splinters to dust, with a sound like the world ending.

     He grabs my hand and his grip was as strong as it was weak a moment ago. The bracelet had expanded and my hand slipped into it easily. Then all I could feel was the power. All that I thought I knew about power was now erased. My inner energy was as a candle compared to this burning sun. He was right. I had no idea. The things I would do.

     The metal burned my flesh as it began to close tightly on my wrist. As mine grew darker, I could suddenly see his. It was always there, you only saw it for a second whenever he would transit a window curtain and the light hit it just right. Now it was alive, visible and its energy flew toward me.

     “Yes, you can feel the power of Ouroboros and you think, I can do anything. And you are right. But with light, comes the darkness. Ouroboros is between all things, so I now give unto you the other side of power. Responsibility. The chains that binds this power to your very soul. Each time you partake of her power, you are dying. You will do great things. But whenever you reach beyond what is yours, and ask her for power, your sacrifice will be your time left to live. And you have much to do.”

     The black shadow fell on my bracelet and its light was diminished, flecked with shadows, nuances and shades of grey. My vision returned to normal. His grip loosened and he fell back into his chair, boneless and still. I rushed to him over the remnants of his work desk, its power drained into me.

     He looked at me, then down to the bracelet. He smiled fiercely. “Chained you again. He’s a strong one. Your scourge will be contained, for a time.” He lifted his head, his eyes rheumy with age. “I’m sorry, Kal.” His whisper barely reached me.

     He died slumping forward into my arms.

     “He was a bitter, old man. We will do great things, you and I.”

     I could feel her coiled around my heart. Squeezing and settling down like a snake. Making my power her own.

     All that light. The radiance that dwarfed my own. Those were the lives of mages she'd claimed before me. I am insignificant to her. She thinks to use me up. I am no more than food to her. I may never be able to be free of her, but I certainly don’t have to give her what she wants. She will earn every meal.

     “They all said that. All fell before me. Ambition is a hard taskmaster." She paused to let me think on that. Then she continued. "We have time; there is no rush to get back to taking your world for my own. Let us get to know one other.”

     We conspired deep into the night.

Ouroboros Rising © Thaddeus Howze 2012, All Rights Reserved

The Nebula nominations were announced today.

AKATA WITCH (a novel set in present-day Nigeria that follows a young Igbo American girl's initiation into a magical secret society and the daring adventures that follow) is a nominee for the Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy Book! 

The masquerades will be out today. ;-)

2011 Nebula Awards Nominees Announced
http://www.sfwa.org/2012/02/2011-nebula-awards-nominees-announced/ 

Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America is proud to announce the nominees for the 2011 Nebula Awards (presented 2012), the nominees for the Ray Bradbury Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation, and the nominees for the Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy Book.

Novel

• Among Others, Jo Walton (Tor)
• Embassytown, China Miéville (Macmillan UK; Del Rey; Subterranean Press)
• Firebird, Jack McDevitt (Ace Books)
• God’s War, Kameron Hurley (Night Shade Books)
• Mechanique: A Tale of the Circus Tresaulti, Genevieve Valentine (Prime Books)
• The Kingdom of Gods, N.K. Jemisin (Orbit US; Orbit UK)

Novella

• “Kiss Me Twice,” Mary Robinette Kowal (Asimov’s Science Fiction, June 2011)
• “Silently and Very Fast,” Catherynne M. Valente (WFSA Press;Clarkesworld Magazine, October 2011)
• “The Ice Owl,” Carolyn Ives Gilman (The Magazine of Fantasy andScience Fiction, November/December 2011)
• “The Man Who Bridged the Mist,” Kij Johnson (Asimov’s Science Fiction, October/November 2011)
• “The Man Who Ended History: A Documentary,” Ken Liu (PanverseThree, Panverse Publishing)
• “With Unclean Hands,” Adam-Troy Castro (Analog Science Fiction andFact, November 2011)

Novelette

• “Fields of Gold,” Rachel Swirsky (Eclipse 4, Night Shade Books)
• “Ray of Light,” Brad R. Torgersen (Analog Science Fiction and Fact, December 2011)
• “Sauerkraut Station,” Ferrett Steinmetz (Giganotosaurus, November 2011)
• “Six Months, Three Days,” Charlie Jane Anders (Tor.com, June 2011)
• “The Migratory Pattern of Dancers,” Katherine Sparrow (Giganotosaurus, July 2011)
• “The Old Equations,” Jake Kerr (Lightspeed Magazine, July 2011)
• “What We Found,” Geoff Ryman (The Magazine of Fantasy and ScienceFiction, September/October 2011)

Short Story

• “Her Husband’s Hands,” Adam-Troy Castro (Lightspeed Magazine, October 2011)
• “Mama, We are Zhenya, Your Son,” Tom Crosshill (Lightspeed Magazine, April 2011)
• “Movement,” Nancy Fulda (Asimov’s Science Fiction, March 2011)
• “Shipbirth,” Aliette de Bodard (Asimov’s Science Fiction, February 2011)
• “The Axiom of Choice,” David W. Goldman (New Haven Review, Winter 2011)
• “The Cartographer Wasps and the Anarchist Bees,” E. Lily Yu (Clarkesworld Magazine, April 2011)
• “The Paper Menagerie,” Ken Liu (The Magazine of Fantasy and ScienceFiction, March/April 2011)

Ray Bradbury Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation

• Attack the Block, Joe Cornish (writer/director) (Optimum Releasing; Screen Gems)
• Captain America: The First Avenger, Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely (writers), Joe Johnston (director) (Paramount)
• Doctor Who: “The Doctor’s Wife,” Neil Gaiman (writer), Richard Clark (director) (BBC Wales)
• Hugo, John Logan (writer), Martin Scorsese (director) (Paramount)
• Midnight in Paris, Woody Allen (writer/director) (Sony)
• Source Code, Ben Ripley (writer), Duncan Jones (director) (Summit)
• The Adjustment Bureau, George Nolfi (writer/director) (Universal)

 Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and FantasyBook

• Akata Witch, Nnedi Okorafor (Viking Juvenile)
• Chime, Franny Billingsley (Dial Books; Bloomsbury)
• Daughter of Smoke and Bone, Laini Taylor (Little, Brown Books for Young Readers; Hodder & Stoughton)
• Everybody Sees the Ants, A.S. King (Little, Brown Books for Young Readers)
• The Boy at the End of the World, Greg van Eekhout (Bloomsbury Children’s Books)
• The Freedom Maze, Delia Sherman (Big Mouth House)
• The Girl of Fire and Thorns, Rae Carson (Greenwillow Books)
• Ultraviolet, R.J. Anderson (Orchard Books; Carolrhoda Books)

The winners will be announced at SFWA’s 47^th Annual Nebula Awards Weekend, to be held Thursday through Sunday, May 17 to May 20, 2012 at the Hyatt Regency Crystal City in Arlington, Virginia, near Reagan National Airport. As announced earlier this year, Connie Willis will be the recipient of the 2011 Damon Knight Grand Master Award for her lifetime contributions and achievements in the field. Walter Jon Williams will preside as toastmaster, with Astronaut Michael Fincke as keynote speaker.

The Nebula Awards are voted on, and presented by, active members of  SFWA. Voting will open to SFWA Active members on March 1 and close on March 30.  More information on voting is available here.

Founded in 1965 by the late Damon Knight, Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America brings together the most successful and daring writers of speculative fiction throughout the world.

Since its inception, SFWA® has grown in numbers and influence until it is now widely recognized as one of the most effective non-profit writers’ organizations in existence, boasting a membership of approximately 2,000 science fiction and fantasy writers as well as artists, editors and allied professionals.  Each year the organization presents the prestigious Nebula Awards® for the year’s best literary and dramatic works of speculative fiction.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 20th, 2012 at 7:58 am and is filed under Nebula Awards, News, SFWA Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Philip Emeagwali, PhD is a Nigerian Computer Scientist. He conducts research at the Army High Performance Computing Research Center at the University of Minnesota. He overcame hardships to earn his academic bona fides. His nickname in school from classmates: "Calculus" (which he taught himself).