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Repost and Commentary...

Posted by Reginald L. Goodwin on February 1, 2012 at 3:18pm
Newsone - African American Scientists

Below is a repost for the month of February and related embed...I will follow up each day with posts appropriate for the month and respect to history and contributions of minorities in science and engineering. Though the link pertains to medical students and the bias African American researchers encounter with grants, two quotes are instructive:
 

Newsone: “While the results of the current study are disheartening, this study will likely have positive impacts on future PhDs and MD/PhDs,” he says.

“Some members of the scientific community are aware of the issues associated with racial and ethnic diversity, [but] others are likely completely unaware of the intrinsic biases in the system,” Beck adds. “Improvement is impossible without quantifiable outcomes.”

Toliver says the first step is for the NIH to ethnically diversify its review committees to increase the chances of fairness.”

TheGrio: In exchange, we have to work on our end and start pushing our students who are interested in science for even higher goals. It is not enough to earn the bachelor's or the master's or even the doctorate. They need mentors to help mold them into stellar scientists, while preparing them for the biases they may face.

 

Physics4thecool: Einstein, Darwin and the 21st Century

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On the first day of 'black history month'...

Posted by Paul West on February 1, 2012 at 12:17pm

You might want to consider First Cause: A Novel About Human Possibility.

 

The main protagonist, Adam Grey, is Caribbean-American, and ne of the central themes in the book is that human advancement would inviove the species' gradual browning and the eradication of its imaginary boundaries.

 

Moreover, it's a compelling, page-turning read, and hopefully will provide food for thought on other topics of interest to the human condition.

 

For your Kindle device, you can pick it up on Amazon here: http://www.amazon.com/First-Cause-Possibility-Terranaut-ebook/dp/B004XQV7ZE/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1

 

And for different formats, you can get it on Smashwords here: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/118368

 

Everything we know is until we find out otherwise...check out First Cause today, and spread the word!

PW

 

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Rise in Excellence with Renpet

Posted by Djadja N Medjay on January 31, 2012 at 8:07am

“The words you choose effect your space and the one you are speaking to. Immortality is truly a household word." - DjaDja - Weben Em Ehker - Rise In Excellence. 

Chapter Awakening from Renpet The Sci-Fi Novel www.renpetscifi.com -
'Once in the center of the chamber, I eased my body into the Ma'at posture. As I spread my arms a finely knit web of energy draped down from the underside of my arms. I see that my diligent practice of this posture has served me well. The counsel formed a circle around me with their hands outstretched in the Ka pose. They began chanting the words of power, getting lower and lower in tone as they continued. Their voices fluctuated all about my body, entering my cells and filling them with sweet words of Hekau. .'
Chapter Awakening from Renpet The Sci-Fi Novel www.renpetscifi.com

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The State of Black Sci-Fi 2012: Why is it Important to Show Race, Culture, Minority Politics or Ethnicity in Sci-Fi?

Posted by Administrator: Jarvis Sheffield on January 30, 2012 at 10:30pm

The State of Black Sci-Fi 2012: Why is it Important to Show Race, Culture, Minority Politics or Ethnicity in Sci-Fi?

To me showing race is science fiction is as important and the story itself. I will sum it up in this quote. “Black Science Fiction is of the utmost importance. Our children as well as other races need to see black people in a positive light. Everyone is mis-educated when all anyone

gets to see is negative images of black people. It’s not accurate and just not right, period. The children alive today will be the ones running the planet when we are old. We owe it to ourselves and them to lead and help develop them. We can’t do that by continuing to let misrepresentations dominate the media we feed them.

I would like to add that today’s science fiction is tomorrow’s science fact.
All races need to be part of the development of those facts.

Jarvis Sheffield, M.Ed. – is owner & operator of TheDigitalBrothers.com, BlackScienceFictionSociety.com & BlackCommunityEntertainment.com.

Visit him:
http://www.blacksciencefictionsociety.com/profiles/blog/list?user=2stjwb1h216fd
http://blacksciencefiction.wordpress.com/


Check out the other members of this Online Black History Month Event: 

L. M. Davis, Author–began her love affair with fantasy in the second grade.  Her first novel,Interlopers: A Shifters Novel, was released in 2010, and the follow-up Posers:  A Shifters Novel will be released this spring.  For more information visit her blog http://shiftersseries.wordpress.com/ or her website www.shiftersnovelseries.com. 

Milton Davis, Author – Milton Davis is owner/publisher of MVmedia, LLC . As an author he specializes in science fiction and fantasy and is the author of Meji Book One, Meji Book Two and Changa’s Safari. Visit him: www.mvmediaatl.comand http://www.mvmediaatl.com/Wagadu/

Margaret Fieland, Author– lives  and writes in the suburbs west of Boston, MA with her partner and five dogs. She is one of the Poetic Muselings. Their poetry anthology, Lifelines http://tinyurl.com/LifelinesPoetry/is available from Amazon.com  Her book, “Relocated,” will be available from MuseItUp Publishing in July, 2012. The Angry Little Boy,” will be published by 4RV publishing in early 2013.  You may visit her website,http://www.margaretfieland.com. 

Valjeanne Jeffers, Author – is an editor and the author of the SF/fantasy novels: Immortal, Immortal II: The Time of Legend and Immortal III: Stealer of Souls. Her fourth and fifth novels: Immortal IV: Collision of Worlds and The Switch: Clockwork will be released this spring. Visit her at:http://valjeanne.wordpress.com andhttp://qandvaffordableediting.blogspot.com/

Alicia McCalla, Author- writes for both young adults and adults with her brand of multicultural science fiction, urban fantasy, and futurism. Her debut novel,Breaking Free will be available February 1, 2012.  The Breaking Free theme song created by Asante McCalla is available for immediate download on itunes and Amazon. Visit her at: http://www.aliciamccalla.com

Carole McDonnell, Author–She writes Christian, speculative fiction, and multicultural stories. Her first novel is Wind Follower. Her short fiction has appeared in many anthologies and have been collected in an ebook, Spirit Fruit: Collected Speculative Fiction. Visit Carole: http://carolemcdonnell.blogspot.com/ orhttp://writersofcolorblogtour.blogspot.com/

Rasheedah Phillips,Author–is the creator of The AfroFuturist Affair in Philly. She plans to debut her first spec/sci-fic novel Recurrence Plot in Spring 2012. You may catch her ruminating from time to time on her blog, AstroMythoLosophy.com.

Nicole Sconiers, Author-is also a screenwriter living in the sunny jungle of L.A. She holds an MFA in creative writing from Antioch University Los Angeles, and she recently published Escape from Beckyville: Tales of Race, Hair and Rage.  Visit her:http://nicolesconiers.com/index.html

Jarvis Sheffield, M.Ed. is owner & operator of TheDigitalBrothers.com, BlackScienceFictionSociety.com & BlackCommunityEntertainment.com. Visit him:http://www.blacksciencefictionsociety.com/profiles/blog/list?user=2stjwb1h216fd


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Heliophysics and Apocalypse...

Posted by Reginald L. Goodwin on January 29, 2012 at 3:27pm

I am not debating Revelation: this post primarily is to fight ignorance, especially this being "2012" of thriller movie fame.

Honestly, when I say that ancient people had as much fear of the winter solstice as they did a lunar eclipse, when I say that maybe the Mayan people, for whatever reason, stopped making calendars, I get the "how do YOUknow?" as if I'm not "supposed" to. I then tell them to solve the followng problem, then get back with me:

 

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Evil Walks. Part 3.

Posted by Barry K. Nelson on January 28, 2012 at 8:21pm
Berlin. April 12,1945. Waffen S.S. Colonel Hans Gruber sat against the wall in the dank cellar and cowered in a near fetal position as the thunderous sounds of the Russian artillery shells exploded up above. The impact from the blasts caused a shower of debris to rain down on him. His black cap and uniform had a heavy coating of white dust that was falling from the ceiling. With the sound of each explosion the 40 year old, blond haired, blue eyed officer wondered when the next one would go off on top of his head and wipe out his life.Looking across the cellar floor, littered with fallen bricks and shards of lumber, was a small kerosene lantern that provided a flickering light for the room. Sitting on a small wooden stool at the opposite side of the cellar was a most unusual person that Hans came to see. A mysterious male figure dressed in dark attire. His black pants were tucked into his black knee high boots. He wore a matching black shirt and necktie under his black hooded cape. He was sitting with his arms crossed against his chest. Between the shadows in the cellar and the hood Hans could not see the features of this man’s face. All he knew about this man was what he heard through rumors and stories that he picked up in various beer halls and curio shops throughout Germany. Now after following several leads Hans had found this mysterious figure that he was hoping would be able to help him survive the fall of Nazi Germany. This person was known as the Sandman.Another loud boom went off over Hans’ head, causing his already trembling body to jump. Another shower of dust and debris dropped down on his head. He looked over to the Sandman, who was sitting calm and quiet. As if studying Hans. “You seem to be quite composed under the circumstances,” Hans said to him.“The way I see it why get upset because of what’s going on upstairs,” replied the Sandman. “I’m just relaxing here while enjoying the show.”Hans was confused. “Show? What show are you talking about?”“You,” the Sandman replied.“Me?”“Sure. I mean, just look at you. Four years ago you Nazis were at the top of the food chain in Europe. And now today here you are hiding in a cellar, just barely able to control your own bowel movements when you hear a shell exploding.”Hans was insulted by the Sandman’s observation. “Are you implying that a soldier of the Reich is a coward in the face of the enemy?” he snarled.“Sorry. My mistake. You’re obviously hiding here to lure the Russians into a false sense of security. When are you gonna spring your trap? Is that the same trap that you guys sprung at Stalingrad, France, North Africa?”Hans was now humbled by the Sandman’s question. Facing the truth, he had only one answer to give. “I’m not here to fight. I’m here because I understand that you can help me escape.”“Escape? Ah. Another rat jumping ship.”Hans was insulted again. But ignored the remark. “I heard through certain circles that you have special talents to help people get what they want. I followed several leads around Berlin in order to find you here in this tavern.”The sound and impact of two exploding shells from up above were heard and felt. The entire cellar shook. Hans’ body jumped. He trembled as he continued, “I was skeptical about what I heard you can do. But I decided to come see for myself.”“Yeah,” The Sandman replied. “When we first met upstairs I noticed that look on your face.”“What look?”“The, he’s a fake, look. I’ve seen it before.”“You claim to grant any wish in exchange for a dream. That sounds highly far fetched.”Another boom from a shell went off. More dust and debris rained down onto Hans’ head.“I trade dreams and nightmares for wishes,” the Sandman corrected.“Dreams. Nightmares. What’s the difference?” Hans asked.“If you go to sleep and see yourself walking across a field with several bunnys hopping around, that’s a dream. Now if you should see those bunnys pull out machine guns and start shooting at you, then that’s a nightmare. Are you following me?”“Sounds like fanciful nonsense from a carnival fortune teller,” Hans charged.The Sandman’s hooded head returned a nod. “I can understand your skepticism. But then again, here you are. Sitting in a dark cellar while artillery shells are going off over your head. You should be out fighting with your troops.”“Fighting? It’s hopeless!” Hans shouted. “The Russians have us outnumbered twenty to one. They have us completely cut off and encircled by massive armies of troops and tanks. I’ve seen men next to me get cut down. I’ve watched hordes of Russian troops run up to men and slice them to ribbons with their bayonets. You don’t know what it’s like up there.”“I should have read the brochures before I came here. So you’re not one of those airheads that are still confident that victory is just around the corner? You’re going to re-group and throw the inferior enemy back. The enemy forces will collapse any time. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”“Yadda. yadda, yadda?”“So you want out?” asked the Sandman.Another shell exploded from above. Hans nodded his head as rapidly as his heart was beating. “Yes, yes. I want you to get me out of here. Out of Berlin. Out of Germany. Out of this war altogether.”“I can do that,” replied the Sandman. “But you know how I work. What can you give me as payment?”This charlatan wants a dream? Hans thought. I’ve got one for him. “I keep having this same damn dream every time I sleep. Night after night. It just won’t go away. It’s so damn vivid. When I close my eyes and nod off it grips me and takes over my mind in seconds. It’s the most-”“Can you spare me the critic’s review and get on with it?” the Sandman grumbled.“Alright,” said Hans. “In this dream I see the faces of these wretches. Wretches dressed in grey rags from head to foot. Men, women, children. They’re all looking at me from behind a barbed wire fence. There’s hundreds of them. All staring at me with their huge dark eyes. I want to run. But for some reason I’m compelled to go closer to the fence. And when I get close to the fence I shout at them to go back where they came from. To get out of my sight. Then they all reach for me. Dozens of these skeletal hands reaching through the barbed wire to grab me and pull me in. I can hear myself screaming as I’m being pressed against the barbed wired. They’re pulling me in. The barb wire rips at my clothes. Tears the skin away from my face. Then I find myself being buried under a mob of these wretched creatures as their filthy hands all reach for me. After that I wake up screaming. I always wake up screaming.”“I’m glad I don’t have you as a room mate,” the Sandman told Hans. “A pretty decent nightmare. And it sounds like it stems from some sort of guilt complex.”“Guilt complex?”“You were commandant of the camp in Strasselborg. You were charged with processing and eliminating hundreds of these wretches, as you call them, when they came in. Taking their valuables. Money, clothes, jewels, gold teeth. Then separating the ones who will live, at least for a while, from the ones who would be marched off right to the gas chambers. And let’s not forget the medical experiments that you ordered. Quite a few of your test subjects didn’t survive. Yeah. You’ve been quite a busy man at Strasselborg. Maybe that’s why the Russians are so eager to get their hands on you. They’re got a fresh length of rope and a noose with your name on it.”“And that is why I’ve got to get out of here,” Hans bellowed against the sound of another explosion from above.“I want to get as far away from this damn war as possible.”“I can get you out. But you know that even after the war they’re still gonna come for you,” the Sandman told Hans.For a moment Hans said nothing. He knew that the Sandman was speaking the truth. Between all of the Allied forces now caving in on Germany he knew that no matter how far he ran he would eventually be caught. And for his extensive war crimes his execution would be inevitable. But he still had to try and find some means of escape. A means where even all the allied forces combined could not break through. Then the magical solution came to Hans. “You can grant me any wish in exchange for my dream? Fine. I want to go back in time.”“Excuse me? What?”“You heard me. If you have the power, like you say, then I want to go back in time. Past this war. Far past. Where no one can find me. That is, unless you can’t do it.”The Sandman leaned forward, placing his gloved hands on his knees. “Oh, it’s doable. A bit complicated. But doable. I’ll have to tweak a few things here. Tweak a few things there.”“Tweak?”“But first let me give you my opinion. This is a really stupid idea.”More explosions were going off from above. A large beam of lumber fell down from the ceiling. Hans felt as though the entire ceiling were about to finally cave in on top of his head. Another explosion went off. Then another. And another. Fearful of his life Hans buried his face into his hands and waited to die either by being crushed under the rubble of this building or blown apart by the next Russian shell. He cursed himself for following the fanciful idea of coming here and talking to a carnival charlatan who claims to be able to grant wishes. I’ve trapped myself here! I was so damn stupid! Hans scolded himself. I did the Russian’s work for them. I’ve trapped myself! I’m trapped!Then the sounds of the explosions faded in his ears. Hans looked up. To his astonishment he was no longer sitting on the floor of the dark cellar. He was now sitting in the middle of a dirt field in broad daylight. He was amazed as he turned and looked about at his new surroundings. He was surrounded by several small round huts with thatch roofs. In front of one hut he saw several men and women sitting around a large fire as they watched an animal that Hans could not identify being cooked on a pit over the flames. Dressed in their ragged, dark dresses the women stood and pointed at Hans while having wide eyed and gaping mouthed expressions of fear on their faces. The men, dressed in their dark tunics and their pants tucked into crude animal hide boots, also stood and backed away in fear. Hans noticed that other men and women near the huts around him also began to stare and point at him. Suddenly a pointing woman shouted out in a high pitched voice, “Witch! Witch!”“He’s a witch!” a man holding a pitchfork shouted as he pointed at Hans.“He’s a demon!” cried another pointing man. “He just appeared out of nowhere! He just boiled up from hell!”“Witch! Witch! Witch!” screamed another woman.Hans stood up and looked about at these primitive people and their crude dwellings. He could not yet believe what had just happened. One minute he was trapped in a cellar. The next minute he was here. Where ever here was. Then he recalled his deal that he made with the Sandman. He wanted to escape the war by going back into time. Could it be? he wondered. Am I really here in the past?More frantic people began to shout out the word, Witch, while pointing at Hans. Hans looked about and noticed that the mob was growing. Two burly men dressed in dark baggy pants tucked into their black boots, shiny breast plate armor, and chain mail hoods pushed themselves through the crowd. Both men were carrying swords strapped to their sides. For a moment they stopped to examine Hans. Then they both drew their swords from their sheaths and advanced.“Get back,” Hans warned. In own time Hans was used to being obeyed by villagers. But now in this time the situation was different. Hans had no power and authority over these people. No armed troops to back him up. He was alone in their time and at their mercy.The two armed men pointed their swords at Hans’ throat while men behind him pounced on him and grabbed his arms.“Let me go! Get your hands off me!” Hans demanded. “I am an officer of the Third Reich! You will release me at once!”The men did not comply. They continued to hold him fast while the other villagers continued to fill the air with their shouts of, Witch, and Demon. Hans tried to struggle, but he was their helpless prisoner. One of the armored men raised his sword and brought it’s hilt smashing down between Hans’ eyes. A painful impact jolted through Hans’ face and he soon lost consciousness.Hans awoke later in a dungeon cell that was twice as dank as the cellar that he was cowering in. He was stripped naked with his legs chained to the wall. But he would not be here for long. Two more burly men dressed in the armor and chain mail hoods entered the cell and unchained him so that they can drag him off to a frantic courtroom where he was commanded by the magistrate to confess his crimes as a servant of Satan. Not mentioning Hitler’s name, Hans insisted that he was no servant of the devil. His defiance did not sit well with the magistrate, who ordered Hans to be dragged off for extensive questioning for the good of his soul. Hans soon learned that extensive questioning in a witch trial meant being subjected to the most painful and gruesome tortures that a Human being could endure.Hans was put through a session with the thumb screws, a red hot iron pressed against his face, and several hours having his arms and legs stretched on the rack. After a few hours of extensive questioning Hans was eager to confess his crimes of being a servant of Satan. Again, without uttering the name of Hitler to his tormentors. Hans was hoping that his confession would put an end to his suffering and send him back to his cell. He was unaware that making his confession only served to put his worst fate into motion.Hans was dragged to the center of the village and tied to a thick wooden pole while a cheering mob of villagers watched on. Hans knew that he was in serious trouble when he watched several men pile bundles of sticks around him.Hans found the strength to panic. His horrific fate was obvious. “You can’t do this to me! I’m no witch! I’m no witch! You’ve got to listen to me!”The men continued to pile the bundles of sticks around Hans until they were up to his waist. A man in armor poured oil from a wooden bucket onto the sticks. Then another man tossed down the torch that he was carrying. The oil ignited with a faint whoosh. Then there was the sharp crackle of burning wood, soon drowned out by the mob chanting, “Burn the witch! Burn the witch!”Hans began to scream as the heat around him began to increase. Smoke from the burning wood filled his lungs. As he cried out for his life he looked at the crowd and saw a familiar figure. A man dressed in black. His black hooded cape hiding the features of his face. The Sandman. The only person that could possibly help Hans out of this fate.“Help me! Please help me!” Hans cried out in desperation.Hans’ view of the Sandman was soon obscured by the flames and they grew higher to consume him.
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Evil Walks. Part 2.

Posted by Barry K. Nelson on January 28, 2012 at 6:04am
Phil Jones drove his car down the dark road and turned to park next to a mailbox near the curb at his right. The young black male turned off his engine and looked out of his driver’s side window to see the blue two story duplex across the street. Phil had come to this quiet neighborhood in Pittsburgh several times to view this house. He would come here only late at night when the traffic was low and less people were walking the streets. Late at night was the time when he would come here to fantasize about entering the apartment upstairs and paying a visit to the resident. Sandra Williams. Sandra Williams. The tall, long haired, attractive black female that rejected Phil’s offer for a date three weeks ago. She stated that she was not interested in Phil’s advances. She even had the nerve to slap his face after he made a comment about her appearance. Her rejection and the assault did not sit well with Phil. He was determined to get even with Sandra. So one day he followed her home. Now that he had her address he came here late night after late night to watch her house and fantasize about going up to her apartment and spending an hour or so slapping her back to teach her a proper lesson. The same type of lesson that Phil had to teach to a few other women that he dealt with in the past. But tonight was going to be different. Tonight Phil was actually going to carry out his fantasy. With a little help from his passenger in the back seat.Phil shuddered when he looked up to his rear view mirror to see the dark reflection of the Sandman. The black hood of his long cape, along with the darkness, concealed the features of his face. Phil received an eerie feeling when he first met the Sandman. A mysterious figure dressed in black pants ticked into black knee high boots, black shirt and necktie, and the hooded cape. Phil was also dressed in black shoes, pants, and shirt. But he did not blend in with the darkness as well as the Sandman did. Phil sensed that there was something unnatural about him. But the Sandman was someone that Phil needed to help him to set his plans with Sandra into motion. So Phil decided to set his apprehension aside and drive the Sandman here and see if his claims were true.“So this is the place?” the Sandman asked.“Yeah. This is the place,” said Phil. “She’s upstairs. Probably asleep. Are you sure that you can help me pull this off?”“I wouldn’t be out here if I couldn’t,” the Sandman replied. “Plus the fact that there’s nothing on TV tonight and I felt a little bored.”Phil turned his eyes back to the duplex. “I’m looking forward to this. She really had a stuck up attitude when she blew me off. Women don’t blow me off. I dreamed about going up there and putting her in her place.”“There’s one question that I have to ask you. Why do you need my help to pull this off? She’s alone. It’s dark. No witnesses. You can go up there right now and spank her with a paddle.”“I’ve thought of that. I could. But there’s only one problem. Her dog. She’s got a rottweiler the size of a grizzly bear.”“I can understand your apprehension. A dog like that can make a chew toy out of your liver. And I’m understanding that you want me to get rid of it?”Phil gave a smile as he nodded. “Yeah. I want the dog gone so that I can go up there and take care of business.”“Alright then. Lets make ourselves a deal,” the Sandman replied. “What do you have for me?”The Sandman trades dreams and nightmares for wishes. At first Phil did not believe that claim when he read it on the Sandman’s website. But for some reason Phil was compelled to give it a try. What do I have to loose? Phil thought. Feeling stupid was his worst case scenario if the Sandman proved to be a fake.Phil had a dream on his mind to share with the Sandman. “I had this dream last night. I was out in the jungle someplace. I had a camera with me. I saw this zebra. I snuck up and hid behind a tree so that I could take a picture of it. Then I started walking and saw this elephant. So I took a picture of that. Then I saw a monkey up in a tree. I took a picture of that. Then I started walking and I saw this lion heading towards me. I took a picture of it. Then I started to run. It started to chase after me. I was still running and I turned around to take another picture. That’s when it jumped on top of me and knocked me down. That it started to rip me apart. And all I could do was keep taking pictures of it. What do you think?”“You watch a lot of Animal Planet?” the Sandman inquired.“No.”“Just wondering.”“What do you think a dream like that means?”“It means that if you try to go lion hunting with a camera instead of a gun then you’re an idiot. It’s not my job to psychoanalyse. It’s my job to just grant you your wish. And we’ve got a deal. So go ahead, killer. I took care of the dog for you. Go get her.”“The dog’s gone?” asked Phil. Gleeful of this news.“That’s what I just said,” replied the Sandman. “And when you deal with the girl I just hope that you’re carrying ammo that’s a little more potent than Fuji film. Have fun.”This guy is a real smart ass, Phil thought to himself.Phil looked to his left and right to see if anyone was coming. So far the street was still dark and clear of other people. Perfect, Phil thought. There would be no potential witnesses to see what he was about to do. He grabbed a roll of duct tape laying on the passenger’s seat. He was going to use this to bind and gag Sandra. Then he got out of his car and rushed across the street, keeping his eyes fixed on the windows on the apartment up above. They were still dark. An indication that Sandra was still asleep. He walked onto a small porch where there were two doors. The door on the left was to the upstairs apartment where Sandra lived. Phil expected the door to be locked, but he came prepared. He took a small lock picking gun out of his pocket and was about to insert the tip of it into keyhole in the middle of the doorknob when he noticed that the door was ajar.Phil opened the door and walked up the dark stairs. At the top of the stairs he entered a large living room with a kitchen area at the right. He looked about to see if he could locate the bedroom. That was where he would find his target. Through the darkness he could barely make out a desk sitting at the left side of a doorway at the far side of the room. He took slow and careful steps to avoid making a sound as he made his way past the kitchen counter at his right, and the sofa at his left, to reach the doorway. Phil paused for a moment and took in a deep breath. Here goes, he told himself.Phil walked through the doorway and entered the bedroom. It was also dark. But he could still make out the furnishings. A bed positioned against the far wall. A nightstand with a small white lamp was at the bed’s left. At the right was a dark dresser with three drawers and a large, square vanity mirror attached to it’s top. Phil’s attention was focused on the bed. Neatly made. And no Sandra.Where the hell is she? Phil wondered. He turned to a closed door at the right side of the room. He crept over and opened it. Inside there was a typical bathroom. Toilet, sink, bathtub with an open shower curtain. But no Sandra. Where the hell is she? Phil asked himself again.Phil walked over to the bed and gave it a strong kick to it’s side. “Dammit! I went through all this trouble and she’s not even home!” he grumbled. He wondered what to do next. “Maybe she stepped out to get a pizza or something.” Phil raised his left arm and pressed the small button on the side of his wristwatch to activate it’s light. The time, 12:25 A.M was displayed. It was unlikely that Sandra would have gone out at such a late time.Phil jumped when he heard a sudden ringing sound coming from the living room. The phone? Phil walked back into the living room and followed the ringing sound to the desk next to the doorway. Through the darkness he could make out an answering machine sitting on top of the desk. It’s handset propped up and it’s touchpad glowing.Phil had no intention of answering the phone, but was curious to hear if the caller would leave a massage. After five more rings the recorded sound of Sandra’s soft voice kicked in to instruct the caller to leave a message, as she was unable to answer the phone. A crisp female voice gave a reply.“Sandra. This is Cyndi. I’m sorry to get back to you so late. And I don’t know if you’ve left yet for your business trip to Cleveland. But I just want you to know that I’ll be a bit late picking up Bruno to take care of him while you’re gone for the weekend. I’ll have him back to you on Monday when you get back. I’ll see you then. Bye.”“Monday?” Phil gasped. This was early Saturday morning. “Dammit! Dammit! I did all this for nothing! I can’t wait here until Monday. I have to be at work Sunday morning.” Phil had to think on what to do next. His only option was to leave and hope that the Sandman can help him enter Sandra’s apartment at a later date when she would be home.Phil left Sandra’s apartment and stepped back outside. He turned to close the door, making sure that it was locked so that Sandra would not become suspicious. When he turned around he was greeted to a frightening sight. A huge black furred dog was standing before him. An angry rottweiler. The dog let out a low growl and bared it’s sharp teeth. Phil backed into the door and had nowhere to run. He raised his hands but only had a roll of duct tape to use as a weapon to defend himself.“Easy boy,” Phil said in a quivering voice. “Easy. Take it easy. Want something to eat? I’ll buy you a pizza.”The dog barked once, then lunged at Phil. Biting at Phil’s face the dog slammed him back into the door. Phil screamed and raised his hands to shield his head. The dog sank it’s massive jaws into his right forearm. Phil’s entire arm burned with pain as the dogs teeth bit deep into his flesh. Struggling to escape Phil tried to bolt forward, only to fall onto his face. Phil screamed again as the dog bit at the left side of his head, his left shoulder, and his arm. Phil was helpless as this massive beast was bearing down on him with it’s weight. All the while biting and chewing on any exposed part of Phil that was available. Phil lost consciousness after the dog mauled his right hand for the third time.Being mauled by Sandra’s dog, Bruno, was Phil’s last memory before he woke up in the hospital. His injuries were extensive. He suffered several deep lacerations along his back and arms, and across his face. He lost his left ear and three fingers on his right hand. After he awoke in the hospital he was arrested for breaking into Sandra’s apartment. Sandra’s neighbor living in the apartment downstairs was up late that night and was just about to go to bed when she spied Phil entering the apartment. She called the police, who came and got the dog off of Phil. From there Phil was taken to the hospital and had his injuries treated. And then charged with breaking and entering, and stalking. Phil was also implicated in stalking, attempted assault and battery, and burglary incidents against four other women. Phil’s arrest resulted in a mountain of legal troubles that ultimately ended with his conviction and sentence of twenty years in prison.Two months later in the yard at Western Penitentiary Phil regained consciousness after getting a brutal beating by a gang of his fellow inmates. He awoke on the ground with his nose bloodied and his left eye swollen. Blood ran down from cuts on his now scarred face. His entire head was burning with pain. He rose up and saw a figure dressed in black standing over him. Black boots and pants. A black shirt and necktie. And a black hooded cape that concealed the features of his face. The Sandman was the last person that Phil expected to see here in the prison yard.The Sandman gave Phil a cheerful greeting. “Phil. I haven’t seen you in a while. Thought I’d pay you a visit. How’s it hanging?”Still in pain from his beating, Phil sat up. “How’s it hanging? What do you mean how’s it hanging? I just got my ass kicked by six guys. Open up a bottle of champagne. I’m havin’ a ball.”“Yeah. you did get one hell of a beat down. Good thing that those guys decided to stop for a cigarette break. If you want my advice, the next time a guy with a skull tattooed on the side of his face asks you if you’re eating your oatmeal, I’d say let him have it.”Phil was not grateful for the Sandman’s advice. In fact, it angered him. “You think your helping me? Where the hell were you when I was getting my ass kicked?”“What did you want me to do, Phil? Put on a striped shirt and play referee?”“I expected you to help me,” Phil shouted. “I wouldn’t be in here if it weren’t for you.”“Ok. It’s complain time. How do you figure that?” the Sandman asked.“How do I figure that? I asked you to get rid of Sandra’s dog. But you didn’t. The damn thing was waiting for me outside. I thought we had a deal.”“Hold on a second, Phil. I did what you asked. I got rid of the dog for you. Was the dog in the apartment when you went in? No. You wanted me to get rid of it, I got rid of it. I wasn’t gonna take it home with me.”The Sandman’s explanation only served to make Phil angrier. “I thought you were going to kill the damn dog. You know. Kill it. It’s dead. Kill, kill, kill.”“You didn’t tell me that you wanted me to kill it. You just said get rid of it. You know, Phil. You’re pretty ungrateful. I get rid of the dog for you so that you can break into your girlfriend’s apartment. I even give you a freebie by opening the door for you. And how do you repay me? By bitching and whining like a little girl.”“Whining like a little girl? Have you seen my face? Look what that dog did to me,” Phil bellowed. He turned his head to display his missing left ear. He held up his right hand to display his remaining thumb and pinkie finger.For a moment the Sandman studied Phil’s hand. “Ok. I can see where this will be a problem. Your hand has been converted into a pair of chop sticks. I can fix that for you.”“You can?” Phil asked. “Ok then. Do it.”“Am I running a charity here, Phil? You know how it’s set up.”“Yeah. I know,” Phil reminded himself. “Dreams and nightmares for wishes.” Unfortunately for Phil, as he searched through his memories, he had none to offer. “Can I make something up?”“No, Phil. That will be like putting a $20 bill onto a copy machine and cranking out a few hundred bucks in fake bills. Try taking those fake bills to Macy’s to go on a shopping spree. I work on the same principle. I don’t take fake dreams.”“Well, I’ve got a real dream right now,” said Phil. He heard the shouts and laughter from several male voices from behind him. The gang’s smoke break was over. And now they were returning, no doubt, to resume their beat down session with Phil. “My dream is to get the hell out of this place.”The Sandman turned to slowly walk away. “Can’t help you there, Phil. This will be your new home for the next few years.If you live that long. And that reminds me. My most recent client is a friend of yours.”Phil was confused. “A friend of mine? Who?”“Your girlfriend. Sandra Williams. I granted her a wish about you.”A feeling of dread came over Phil. “She made a wish? About me? What was it?”“Client confidentiality, Phil. You’ll find out.”Phil shuddered with fear. Not from the gang of muscular thugs that were now drawing near to him. But from the unknown threat that was still to come.
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Author Paul West discusses sci fi, society, writing...

Posted by Paul West on January 27, 2012 at 1:00pm

Author Paul West on Book Talk as their first return guest! PW discusses sci fi, writing, motivation, politics and the human condition--yes, all in one show :) It's archived, so where you see DJ Kory, click on 'view program'--then near the bottom of the page, the minutes of the interview will appear. Click 'play now'. Your thoughts are welcome!

http://breakthruradio.com/#/post/?blog=89&post=61

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XMOOR STUDIOS Images on "PERSON OF INTEREST

Posted by Robert Garrett on January 26, 2012 at 3:21pm

XMOOR STUDIOS IMAGES ON "PERSON OF INTEREST"

 

On February 9th at 9pm Eastern Standard Time on CBS New York Channel 2's, Person of Interest TV show

 

 

 

Our flagship series "GALTOW" as well as "AJALA": A Series of Adventures Created by Robert Garrett plus some posters will be featured.

   My works will be featured along with Steven Harris (AJALA and FRINGE), as Well as REGINE SAWYER and her Lockettdown Productions, Alex Simmons (Blackjack), Jerry Craft (Mama's Boys) and

Dawud Osaze Kamau Anyabwile aka Dave Sims (Brotherman).

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