Call for Submissions - She Nailed the Stake Through his Head - Tales of Biblical TerrorCall for SubmissionsSeeking short stories for the Dybbuk Press anthology She Nailed the Stake Through His Head: Tales of Biblical Terror (working title).What I'm looking for: Short stories primarily, ideally between 1000 - 12000 words. All stories must be based in some way on Biblical stories. Actually have a familiarity with the Bible. I may consider poems if they are particularly good but I hate 99% of all poems I read. This is primarily a horror anthology so the creepier the better. In many of these stories, you really don't have to work too hard to make them horrific.Shouldn't be said, but please don't send me stories that are so ungrammatical and clumsy in their execution that they hurt to read. Style counts. Style counts a lot. I am a great fan of authors with great style. I'll read Tanith Lee's 5th grade essay on why she wants a pony before I even think of picking up another Dan Brown book for any other purpose beyond hurling it at the wall.Suggested:Retellings of Biblical Stories from the perspective of another character.Kiastic StorytellingDeconstructionist Commentary akin to RashiBiblical stories retold in different literary styles (high adventure, Victorian, Romance, Mystery, etc.)Modern stories told in the Biblical style (Best use Robert Alter's Art of Biblical Poetry and Art of Biblical Narrative if you want a crash course)Parodies of Prophets"Queen Esther vs. The Brain Eating Penis Monster from Outer Space" (note that just sticking this title on a lame story is not going to endear you to me. Write a story that would justify this kind of title and I'm interested)Biblical Movie Parodies (kind of a tough one considering that this genre gave us Lot freeing the slaves of Sodom, Edward G. Robinson playing Aaron in full gangster mode, splatterpunk Jesus and Richard Gere disco dancing in a diaper)Basically if you're sticking with Biblical tales in Biblical times you have about 1500 years to work with. Empires rose and fell in this time.Lists of Some books that may Help:Torah Study 101Ibn Ezra25 Jewish BooksBible Study SamplerOutrageous Tales from the Old TestamentWhat I'm NOT looking for:Normally this is the place where I say that I don't want any vampires, werewolves or ghosts but if you can stick a vampire into a King David story or put zombies in Ancient Assyria then I actually want to see it.One Caveat to the last note: I read The Last Days of Jesus the Vampire. I thought it was a very clever idea that was poorly executed. Regardless, I'm not going to be terribly enthused with "Jesus was a vampire" stories.Primarily, no preachiness. If your story is nothing more than an excuse to get on a pulpit, I'm not interested. That cuts all ways. The Left Behind series would have been fun in a goofy crazy way if it didn't keep stopping to tell the reader that JESUS IS LORD (then again, it's audience wouldn't have made it a bestseller.) But that also goes for atheist stories.And please, no stories about how all the goddess worshippers were beautiful earth mothers until the mean old monotheists ca me along and killed everyone. I read enough of that Starhawk crap during my collegiate hippie phase.I should also note that I've been publishing a lot of books geared toward adolescent males recently - splatterpunk, tough guy fiction, etc. - and I'm getting a little sick of the lack of decent female characters. So stories with strong women characters (there are plenty in the Bible - Sarah, Jezebel, Yael, Devorah, Rivkah, Esther, etc.) will make me happy.I'm also 99% certain that I won't like your Adam & Eve story. Don't know if anyone writes these things anymore. I suspect that they've been ridiculed into the historical dust bin, but just in case, please don't send yours my way.Format: Attach as either a .doc or an .rtf. DO NOT send .docx attachments. All .docx attachments will be deleted unread.Pay: $50 advance against equal share of royalties to be paid out no later than publicatoin.Reading Period: December 1 - December 31, 2008. All stories submitted before December 1 will be deleted unread! And yes, I do mean BEFORE December 1. I might extend the deadline for after December 31 if I don't find enough stories to fill an anthology (I'm shooting for between 8 and 12. I can go as low as 7.) I'm putting out the call for stories now because I want interested parties to write their stories and revise them before submitting them. I don't want trunk stories with cover letters trying to explain why your vampir e is a Christ figure.Reprints: Yes, I will take reprints, but let me know if it's a reprint or not when you submit.Send to: tim_lieder (AT) yahoo - .rtf or .doc format only. If you want to put it in the body of the text, well go ahead.Things Aren’t What They Seemby From the Asylum Books and Pressedited by Katherine SangerIn the grand tradition of SF, we are looking for stories about aliens among us. They can be trying to fit in, take over, or steal away the promotion that you deserve. Does your neighbor drink an awful lot of milk? That guy at work not seem right? Who are they? What are they doing here?We’re looking for flash fiction (up to 1,000 words) and short fiction (1,001 to 5,000 words) that tell the story of aliens in our world. (Please note: No “jar of Tang” endings. No “dream” endings. No elaborate set-ups on aliens planets to make it look like Earth in order to…you get the idea.) Word count is firm. Any pieces above or below the word count will not be read. Please submit only one story. Please do not submit poetry -- this is for fiction only.Your story can fit anywhere in the speculative rainbow -- SF, fantasy, horror, or just plain strange! Humor is a plus, but is not strictly necessary. (Yes, you can have aliens in your medieval of fantasy-based world…the aliens can be good or evil..or just trying to survive on $6.50 an hour.)Payment is $15 for flash fiction and $30 for short fiction. All authors accepted will also get one copy of the anthology.UPDATE - 10/31/08Things Aren’t What They Seem:Acceptances and rejections of all submissions have gone out, both mail and email. If you have not heard from us, please send us an email at ksanger@fromtheasylum.com as some of the emails did bounce and I’m sure if it’s my system that is at fault.We are re-opening the submission period, to last from October 31 until December 31. While we received a number of excellent stories, we have not yet reached our desired length as the anthology will not be heavy enough to assist in beating our alien neighbors.Guidelines remain the same. We are still looking for both flash fiction (under 1,000 words) and longer works (up to 5,000 words).There are two important things I would like to emphasize, however.Aliens *must be* the main thrust. No tacked on aliens that don’t figure into the plot.Humor is preferred over horror (although humorous horror often works for us!).To enter:Please send your submission to:From the Asylum Books and Press“Things Aren’t What They Seem”PO Box 1519Dickinson, TX 77539Include a cover letter with your name, your pseudonym (if applicable), your email address, your phone number, your mailing address, the name of the piece, the word count of the piece, and a short biography. Include a SASE if you would like to be notified of rejection.Or email:fta@fromtheasylum.comPlease cut and paste your file (text, not html) into the email. We do not accept attachments.Please be sure to use the subject line “Things Aren’t What They Seem Submission” or your piece may be put into the general submissions.In your email, include your name, your pseudonym (if applicable), your email address, your phone number, your mailing address, the name of the piece, the word count of the piece, and a short biography.Closing Date: We will be keeping the submissions for the anthology open until May 15. Responses to the first set of submissions will be going out by the end of April.Publication Date: If closed by April 15, we will be publishing in November.At this time, we hope to respond to entries within 4 weeks of receipt.Co-edited by Erzebet YellowBoy & Sean WallacePublished by Prime Books.We are seeking short stories and poems for the fourth issue of Jabberwocky, scheduled for publication in July 2009.The elements and bedrock of Jabberwocky can be largely described as the -ical approach: lyrical, whimsical, mythical, in all its forms, particularly short fiction, poetry, and illustrative. There are no boundaries, no restrictions, no genres. If you love the art of the written word, its structure, its flow, its language, I suspect you'll love Jabberwocky.Original fiction only. No reprints. Multiple submissions accepted.PAYMENT:$.01 per word for fiction$5.00 per poemPayable on acceptance.WORD LIMIT: 4000 words.RIGHTS: First world English rights, non-exclusive world anthology rights, and non-exclusive audio anthology rights. Download the20author-anthologist contract here.READING PERIOD: 1 October, 2008 - 1 February, 2009Our response time is 2 weeks.Email your story in rich-text format (RTF) to us at jabberwocky.magazine@gmail.com. Include the title of the story in the subject of the email and a brief bio in the body of the email.Please send queries to the same address. Thank you!http://anthologynewsandreviews.blogspot.com/Also check out the anthology sections on www.ralan.comRead more…
Join Penelope and Otto as they discuss the best and worst this week's TV, news and entertainment. In the tradition of this great entertainment market, Penelope and Otto tell you what to buy, sell or hold and where you should spend your valuable TV minutes.This week we'll be talking about Football, Psych, Mumbai and the Shield series Finale.Call in at 718/508-9683 and tell us about Chuck, Heroes, 24 or your week's favorites! Click on the blogtalk icon, listen in and join us in the Chat room at 11:30pm CST!Read more…
I was looking for a picture of a black woman to go with my new character Sarah Caullings on photo bucket. after about three pages of thong and women wearing nothing i decided to give that search a rest. it's kinda sad that a naked big booty'd woman is the image that is being portrayed for black women. Beauty is one thing, but pornographic images don't qualify in my book under beauty.
Read more…
I played Dungeons and Dragons growing up. I lost my self in worlds inside of worlds. Throughout my childhood I ended up playing practically every type of role playing game there was. My mind became so fertile devouring fantasy, science fiction and comic books. I gestated a 'beautiful mind' in terms of being able to transform my environment suffused with deep meaning and pregnant with symbolism.As I grew poetry became my tool of expression yet I never stopped devouring those tomes that expanded my view of what was around me.So what is this?It's a serial. In the tradition of the old pulp shows of the golden age of radio. It is set in a fantasy world which is coming into existence with each letter that I type on this computer.It is a psycho-journal. It's how I am relaying certain things that are happening in my life, things that I want to happen, things that I think may happen, things that I thought happen yet didn't happen. It is me making mountains out of mole hills and mole hills out of mountains.If you know me you may find yourself in my story as it progresses. You may find a character that resembles you yet it ain't really you. Or maybe you may find the you that you want to be.It's fiction-factual and if anything is a workbook. Yet one thing, it is a story. In fact it may be THE story in terms of mythic archetypes. It's Truth. Enjoy.Crossposting is at this site yet the foundation site is DaybreakerRead more…
Books For Africa Donation DriveThis drive kicks off our goal to raise $10,000 in the next year for the White Cots School Centre in Kenya and to supply them with all types of books - fiction and non-fiction, especially text books. Each book costs 40 cents to send to Africa. It costs us 40 cents per book to ship them to the Minnesota BFA warehouse. That's why we ask for a minimum donation of $1.00.Help us spread literacy, knowledge and to end poverty throughout the world.If you are in the Washington, D.C. area, please drop off a "Book and a Buck" at the Black Author Showcase Holiday Book Fair on December 13th, 2008, 10 am to 5 pm at the Show Place Arena, Upper Marlboro, MD.http://www.basbookfair.comThank you from all of the literary lovers at the Black Author Showcase.Can't attend the book drive? Help our efforts by donating as little as $1.00.CLICK HERE TO DONATE TODAY!Read more…
Section Leader Kenard stomped from the monitor station to the analysis console to glimpse evolving tactical readouts on the data screen. His jaw was clenched tight with tension, not from the sight of an approaching enemy column, but its ever more daunting size. “There must be at least a hundred thousand of them,” he muttered dishearteningly, studying enemy icon movements on the adjoining short-range scan. He knew he was exaggerating the numbers, but not by much.The console operator glanced worriedly at Kenard. “That’s no raiding force, S.L.”Kenard agreed. The expected Gand attack was forecasted to take place on Serus, Iddirin’s fourth largest colony. As usual, Intelligence erred big.And they think Humans are the incompetent ones. “Contact headquarters,” Kenard ordered, swallowing his bitterness. “Tell them we have an invasion–level force assembly in progress. Please emphasize that the enemy is amassing across a 500 mile front and closing.”Multi-angle monitor feeds displayed images of Gand landers disgorging a myriad of powered infantry soldiers along with hundreds of armored vehicles ambling toward the front in bubbling clouds of dust. The AV guns fired low-combustion Electro-mag flash shells. Minimum grade destruction caused by these projectiles was a collateral effect to their designed purpose, which was to short out field barriers and disable equipment. The Gand infantry, resplendent in lustrous blue sun-glinted armor and rock solid phalanxes, marched behind loosely massed mechanized units. Each soldier’s propulsion node, embedded in his armor, was synchronized to full burn.At their present speed, Kenard expected them to breach the outer Outpost perimeter in thirty minutes or less.“Activate deflectors,” he ordered an operator sitting across from the analysis console. ”And put out a priority evacuation alert.”“But...but we don’t have orders…” Dampare stammered. He was fully supportive of leaving Outpost 12 in the face of that innumerable legion, but the unilateral nature of Kenard’s decision without authorization from Regional Headquarters…“I’m not waiting for permission from the top for us to evac. By the time the Iddies make up their minds we’ll be prisoners off to slaughter or slavery,” the SL explained patiently.“Besides, we’re doing what they would want us to do anyway, the logical move at least, and that’s falling back to Valley City where we can consolidate what forces we can draw upon to wage a reasonably effective defensive effort, so let’s cut the chit-chat and move!”Outpost 12’s 8,000 soldiers scrambled orderly but expeditiously toward the vehicle hangers where skimmers, treaded transports and aero-pods awaited. A small percentage formed rear guard detachments, some manning the gun tower ports peering over the 15 feet high shimmering deflector barrier. Others proceeded to occupy positions amid the barbed tangle of entrenchments 45 yards behind the barrier’s semi-enclosure. Electro-mag shells slammed into the barrier semi enclosing the outpost grounds in a steady concentration of fire. Outpost turret weapons responded with inadequate but steady volleys of repulser beams, picking off scores of Gand infantry with compensatory accuracy.Repulser beams did not kill, but disabled by means of trajectory displacement which concentrated dense layers of focused pressure en route toward a target and applied it with such force as to knock an armored opponent to the ground. Depending on where a person was hit, bone breakage invariably occurred. Head-shots were to be avoided unless absolutely necessary. A hit to the head by a repulser beam, like a blow from a blunt instrument, had the greatest potential of killing an opponent. And a dead enemy was suited neither for sacrifice nor slavery.Not all Makir races favored repulser type weaponry. Gand rifles represented the category of disabling weapons that ejected high charged inhibitor darts. These darts, upon striking a victim, sent a current knifing to the brain, attacking the motor cortex with utter malice, shutting it down, inducing instantaneous paralysis. Bones were not broken, but the nerve lacerating effect of contact provided an excruciating equivalent.Continual bombardment sapped the barrier’s strength. Undulating tendrils of luminous static crackled and sizzled across its surface from points of impact. Energy feeds overcompensated to maintain the shield’s integrity. Ultimately they failed. The barrier collapsed, leaving Outpost 12 open like a fresh carcass presented to eager scavengers. Swarms of inhibitor darts poured into the outpost with unencumbered fury snaring droves of unfortunates, but most of the Humans managed to escape. A convoy of vehicles loaded down with the lucky majority dashed across the flat terrain well ahead of the enemy army but not necessarily out of ordnance range.Several vehicles were either hit directly by electro-mag shells or disabled by proximity blasts. The rear guard soldiers absorbed the worst of the human casualties, yet were withdrawing in good order. Those operating the gun towers rigged them with charges and detonated the static defenses upon departure, depriving the enemy of their usage.Section Leader Kenard stayed behind to supervise the final phase of the evacuation. The brutally asymmetric configurations of Gand AVs loomed like rampaging herd beasts across the far perimeter. Their monolithic tonnages disguised their very real speed in masquerades of trudging deception. A blanket of enemy infantry, massed like packed dirt, followed close behind, the front ranks firing volleys of darts with each rapid yard of advance. Humans peppered by the tiny projectiles dropped like sacks, their bodies jerking catatonically as paralyzing venom enveloped their brains, deadening the networks of impulses to arms and legs.The screams accompanying the painful onset of total rigidity receded to mournful gurgles, finally exhausted silence when the victims lapsed into unconsciousness. Attempts to carry the immobilized soldiers to safety were partly successful. The density of darts skewering the air imperiled too many of the rescuers while EMG fluctuations pulsing brightly from electro-mag shell bursts, rendered inoperable a great portion of the skimmers needed for escape.A shell erupted scant yards behind Kenard as he was leading a group toward the inner outpost area. The blast concussion flung soldiers in every direction. Kenard dove face forward, his back tattered bloody with bits of gravel size shrapnel. A clanging, snapping din overrode the general commotion of war, drawing Kenard’s befuddled attention to the sight of enemy tanks crashing through the battlements. The men around him stirred to life, those that could. A flurry of inhibitor darts tore into them sending soldiers to the ground in wracking contortions of agony.The tanks halted just inside the battered inner perimeter, their multiple turrets ejecting a mix of darts and electro-mag shells across the outpost’s expanse. Masses of infantry streamed through breaches made by the massive vehicles and spread out, their crisp formations dissolving in a mad frenzy to secure prisoners.Kenard struggled to raise himself up. His wounds pulsed intolerable fire, but the pain occupied a sliver’s worth of space in his awareness compared to the horror of a fate he knew awaited him. The Gand would treat his wounds, of that he was guaranteed. They were extremely obsessed with insuring the good health of ranking prisoners. Fit prisoners made for an impressive display when paraded through Gand cities like the prize trophies they were. And when they were finished being herded in front of teeming masses of screaming, jeering fanatics, prisoners were given the honor of being cordially dispatched inside the grandest of sacrificial temples…only the ranking ones, of course.The thought turned Kenard’s gut into a churning vat of chaos, yet his mind, clouded as it was, allowed defiance to formulate, grow, evolving into a raging determination to deny the Ravager the sweet succulence of his essence. Urgency grabbed hold of the section leader. He scrambled toward an undamaged skimmer, close enough for him to reach it in a series of effortless bounds. But his weakened condition reconfigured that effort into an exhaustive feat…an unattainable one with the squat, helmeted forms of Gand infantry loping across every area of his view.Kenard still had a tight grip on his repulser pistol. He lifted the weapon to his temple.A Gand soldier fired off an inhibitor dart. The projectile caught Kenard in the back of the thigh, burrowing painfully deep. The section leader grimaced from the impact, but still managed to trigger his pistol before the dart could work its pernicious effect. An invisible force equivalent to the velocity of a slung boulder from five yards, slammed into Kenard’s head. The smile on his face never faded.
Read more…
Posted by Penelope on November 22, 2008 at 10:13pm
Join Penelope and Otto as they discuss the best and worst this week's TV, news and entertainment. In the tradition of this great entertainment market, Penelope and Otto tell you what to buy, sell or hold and where you should spend your valuable TV minutes. Call in at 718/508-9683 and tell us about your week's favorites!Read more…
Thomas Hobbes RevisitedWhile I was taking notes in my Western Civilization class I read over some information that made my mind really shift gears. Thomas Hobbes (1588 – 1679), is said to be “the most original political philosopher of the seventeenth century.” An incredible charge for someone whom lived in the same time with great individuals such as Galileo Galilei, Sir Isaac Newton, Rene Descartes, and John Locke, all of whom laid down an incredible foundation for discovery and discourse for centuries to come. While much of his fellow thinker’s works dealt with science and the mathematical solutions to the universe, Hobbes took on what I believe is a much more complex subject. Human nature.In 1651, Thomas Hobbes wrote the Leviathan, a book that took a very thorough and mechanical look at human nature and brutality. In the Leviathan Hobbes claimed that, “All mental states derive from sensation and all motivation are egotistical. The driving force behind human life is the quest to increase pleasure and minimize pain. Human beings have no spiritual ends and serve no greater moral purpose.” He goes on to state that humans form governments because of the want to meet simple needs and that a sovereign commonwealth is all that keeps the society from tearing itself apart. Hobbes saw people not as individuals looking to better themselves through life’s struggles and battles, but as “self-centered beasts who were utterly without discipline unless it was imposed on them by force.” In a time now where individuals are literally fist fighting for an extra gallon of gasoline, who could argue against him. What I find interesting about his thoughts of human nature is not his harsh views, but the way he places all individuals in the same negative category without any specific biases.Today we find biases on many levels. Race, wealth, appearance, and a mass of other seemingly meaningless ideas. If Thomas Hobbes is correct and all of our discipline is learned forcibly from other sources, how is one supposed to rise above adversity and prosper in life. Just as well what about the ever-faithful idea that people are products of their environments. I personally believe that people are products of their environments, but not in the same sense that most people believe.To understand the idea of being a product of his or her environment, one must define what an environment is. Dictionary.com gives a few different definitions of the word. From, “the aggregate of surrounding things, conditions, or influences,” to “an indoor or outdoor setting that is characterized by the presence of environmental art that is itself designed to be site-specific.” In the context of this argument, I pose another definition of environment. If our environment is based on the surroundings of our human-selves, then I state that our bodies are our true environment. In my mind I believe that without two key ideas and elements our bodies prove themselves to be nothing more than shells and housing for our ethereal energy. The elements and ideas that I speak of are the brain and the human soul (by soul I mean ideas such as conscience, karma, ying and yang, and similar concepts).Take for example, the act of moving a limb. To move the human hand takes nothing more than a thought to accomplish, but without that thought from our brains nothing happens. Just as well, a moving hand means nothing unless it has a purpose. Without a soul to give this movement purpose, be it in kindness for a handshake or a slap in anger, we are left flailing aimlessly throughout our days like a leaf falling from a tree. Regardless of the form the movement comes in, it now has meaning; it now has an end from its beginning. This, I believe, can be said for all movements, thoughts, and actions that we as humans have throughout our lives. Take the use of our mouths. Just opening and closing our mouths does little, even when trying to chew gum. However, by adding the power of the great equalizing soul and life beings to get interesting. Wars can be sparked by an insult or an idea that comes from two small lips, but with those same lips a resuscitating breath can be given and love can be made.My point is this, without the brain’s ability to move our limbs and the soul’s ability to choose how we move, our bodies are nothing more than cars without keys. We sit in our garaged homes awaiting our owners to turn us on and go wherever they want us to go. I hope that one can see where my definition of environment fits with the idea of producing an individual’s personality and lifestyle. If we are products of our environments and if our bodies are the environments that we are products of, I pose that it is up to each individual to define, endure, and fulfill their own lives.This may seem like a strange or impossible feat, but how many times have individuals accomplished goals or tasks with little to no active assistance. Day by day people overcome incredible odds that their surroundings should have stopped them from overcoming. It should not be possible for a one legged person to compete in an event that requires both legs but on April 19, 2006, Michael Milton became the fastest Australian speed skier - able-bodied or disabled - after setting a world record at 213.65km/h in France. Even with the encouragement of friends and family, this would not have been possible had he not looked into himself and found the will to continue towards his dream and goal regardless of any hardships that he encountered. If it is possible for a person with only one leg to ski faster than anyone in an entire country, what stops individuals from denying their ghettos or families and friends their own lives?By no means is life in any sense fair. Cards are dealt and hands are played, in many instances, on a no win basis. In the end, the deciding card lies within; there is no situation that must end with giving up. There is always an option of betterment and there will always be a choice. The fact that not every choice is the one that may be desired is irrelevant. Individual accountability holds that it is up to the sole proprietor of whatever action to take responsibility of said action. It is not the fault of the person whom threw the first punch to force the victim to stand and take the hit. It is up to the victim to look within his or herself and respond accordingly. The same can be said for anyone that has grown up in an area that does not suit their chosen lifestyle. That individual as well must look within and choose to move their environment away from whatever negativity that hinders their success in life or stay and find a way around whatever blocks their path.Society is filled with individuals that are far from holding up their titles as such. This society is full of castrated sheep that can do no more than follow the path of not the Sheppard but the nearest sheep to them. We find the need to give in to the ideas that were given to us and not question them nor seek to find our own truths. Learned helplessness is a psychological condition in which a human being or an animal has learned to act or behave helpless in a particular situation, even when it has the power to change its unpleasant or even harmful circumstance. In the same token, I believe that learned ignorance is the condition that our society faces. As a whole, we have learned to look past truth and side with impure assumptions. We would rather pass the proverbial “buck” to the nearest scapegoat, as opposed to taking responsibility any and all situations that we can control. Life is not something that should be placed to the wayside to wait for the next person to claim, fix, or destroy. Life is a precious individual singularity that is to be nurtured, loved, and furthered. The only way for us to prosper and thrive fully as a society is to care for and strengthen our own environments.As self-centered beasts, we should hold fast to that nature. Claim your life and assure everyone around you that no one can force or impose their will upon anyone without that person’s consent. Be one’s environment a wasteland full of despairing sludge or a tropical paradise filled with thriving love and peace, it is his or hers to nurture and allow to grow. How one goes about this growth is for each individual to choose, but that choice can never be taken away.
Read more…
“Come quick Meric, I think I saw an antelope herd this way.” Ezam darted forward smiling with the grin of a fabled laughing hyena. “Hurry up you poker, by the time you get to where I am I’ll have been long gone.” “Always joking, never serious about anything,” Meric thought. “You do realize that we’re not even supposed to be out here right now don’t you? If we get caught you know exactly what’ll happen!” “No I don’t you twit and neither do,” Ezam said not missing a step, “or did you forget that no one has gone hunting in centuries.” “That’s exactly my point Ezam, not a single person has hunted anything in this village in years. We all know the stories of the Angels keeping all life safe and not allowing any harm to befall a single living creature. Now here I am risking my life so you can tempt our fates.” Ezam stopped so quickly that Meric almost ran right into him. For a moment young Meric thought that he may have broken through to his younger sibling and that they would both turn around and leave. That was, until Meric saw the look in Ezam’s eyes. “If that’s so,” spoke Ezam in a very ominous tone, “then I doubt they’d allow me to kill say…that beetle crawling towards us.” Before Meric could turn to see what his brother was talking about, he heard the squish and crunching of what was sure to be a now deceased bolvic beetle. “See, it’s dead and I’m still here. Now come on they’re almost to the entrance of Halen forest.” “You’ll kill harmless deer’s but you won’t cross into the sacred forest? My brother I fear I will never understand you.”
Read more…
Posted by Constance on November 13, 2008 at 2:38pm
I am finished with Draft 2 of Coal, which really is just an extended Draft 1. It feels pretty good. It feels damn good!I love nanowrimo, why does it take that month for me to give myself permission to stop worrying about being perfect.I will not let perfection stop me from being good!My plan to edit my baby is as follows.For each section.1. Write what we want to accomplish from beginning to end and determine if I accomplished it2. Is the POv and tense correct through the scene3. Have the setting, details, and time line been clearly established.4. Have the emotions been conveyed???5. Have you used all five senses –sight, touch, sound, taste, noise6. Are there any loose ends?7. Then worry about Style and fluency. I get really hung up on this.Time line:I really want to finish editing by December 31. Is that impossible?But even before I edit I need to grasp a strong hold of my world. I want to veer away from the traditional cookie cutter elves, fairies, and dwarves but I still haven’t created a believable world of my own. I don’t have a clear picture of my fey creatures. It’s like I’m scared to commit. Maybe for this book I should keep with the traditional characters. White elves and faires with tipped ears. The short dwarves. Because then it would make Coal, a Black human stick out.And then I’ll save my twist on the stereotypical fairy creatures for my next book Giants.Any thoughts?
Read more…
Into the BreachOnce more into the breach, this darkness comes so swift,Only with the light of truth shall this vale ever lift.The fault of this pain no man does own,For the end of this pain, no mercy is shown.It Lies now broken, this hearts forever dreams,No needles long enough to sew its shattered and torn seams.Once more into the breach, darkness now upon me,I close my eyes and scream these words for all the world to see.No light shines here, to guide safe passage back,For the home of these thoughts is forever filled black.Thoughts not of pain or of sinful dark shame,But thoughts of the past and what may never be again.Thoughts of love and thoughts of peace,Oh what I would give for these thoughts to never cease.But end they shall when the black comes at night,And try as I may, things shall never be set right.Once more through the breach, for the end is soon to come,The darkness that clouds my soul, my heart it has now won.But the lo from the sky, a messenger is sent,In hopes that this transformation to the cold may relent.“Idol of peace, you bird as white as cream,Awake me from this nightmare, remove me from this dream!”With hope guiding its way it makes way through this place,Away parting this fog; shining hope in my face.But it to succumbs to the force of my sorrow filled plight,Gone now is peace, plucked from its merciful flight.Trapped in the breach, shall I never be free?A new mornings dawn, shall I never see?Oh great dove, of Heaven sent mercy,No longer shall your words this day curse me.And lead not my heart into this foul tempting abyss,Let me wander no more in loves painful bliss.No light, no sun only memories now lost,In this sea of hatred forever I now toss.But hate I shall not for this place is my own,This breach in my soul with my hand shall be sewn.For freedom comes not from prayers of inaction,But from the will and mind of the one who has cast them.Life love and the pursuit of joy,Are not playthings meant to be wrestled like a toy.Free from this breach, yet triumphant I am not,My soul weighs now heavy and my heart now taut.Once more I begin my quest for peace,No more shall I question when it is in my reach.MLM
Read more…
Forever’s PenanceStricken with grief from a lost loves bittersweet visit,Peace being forsaken as faith leaves with it.Once more down this road with despair at my side,The pain in my heart this time I shall not hide.Why must you leave when you’ve just made your bed?Why can you not stay the night and lay your weary head?This night so familiar, like the setting of the fall,This feeling so new, from my weary eyes heavy tears now crawl.Once more into my heart these daggers now sting,No more in my ears do the bells of bliss ring.“A curse upon your life was given many moons past,Forever this shadow of Penance upon your love shall be cast.”Not a curse of unknown, for your love shall be returned,But last it will not, so long as the world turns.Where can one turn; to whom can one shout?Shall faith be forever spoken with such doubt?Karma speaks to me, of an eye for an eye,Yet this eye sees only a Heaven sent lie.Be gone with this sight, so that love shall not wander my way,And if it comes again, my heart it shall not sway.Be at peace my love, for destiny has chosen you this day fit,Upon a throne of peace and joy may you forever sit.Hold your head high, for your battles are not yet through,The trials of forever shall beckon your heart blue.Hold fast forever to your righteous fury,And never again your beauty should you bury.Peace now my Angel to the end of our days,Blessed be to those whom your light doth gaze.MLM
Read more…
A Single TearA single tear is all that I ask,To show that in the end This Too Shall Pass.A Tear to mark the solemn day,That Hell has passed and peace is coming this way.A single tear is all that I pray,To enter your heart on this sorrow filled day.For your blood now runs cold during these trials of life,And your anger cuts through me like a twin sided knife.I feel for your loss more than you know,So this tear I give to you, for my love to show.A single tear is all that I have,But I will give more should you only ask.And let them run from my eyes to my knees,Yet let not one touch the ground should your wishes it not please.Let them gather round low and swirl into a stream,And upon the sight of your face they begin to gleam.Like a moonlit eve, your eyes will wash them away,And set upon my soul forever and always to stay.But no more tears are left to cry,For my eyes are welled up, swollen and dry.But I smile still for my heart is now full,With the thought of you whole and your fire now cool.Peace to this day, for your trials have now ended,Together we shall be, torn together yet mended.MLM
Read more…
We hit more targets: a Ziran supply convoy, another arms production complex on another Ziran moon, and a pair of bombardment platforms. The platforms were a prize find. They were en route to a human world to replace the ones we destroyed. One of Vinia’s surveillance probes spotted them when they went into drive just outside the Gatina System in Vingin space. I estimated where those platforms would most likely reappear. Paradyme. It had to be Paradyme. From the platform’s angle of approach in the Gatina System, Paradyme was the nearest human world.I tasked three PCs with the job of taking out the platforms: my own Tantamous, the Congress and the Admiral Hite. Cloaked in stealth, we skirted the asteroid field separating the inner worlds of Paradyme’s star system from its three massive gas giants. I expected the platforms to enter the system, stopping short of the asteroid field. Jasin expected them to have picked up an armed escort along the way. A Sky Mauler, perhaps accompanied by three or four assault frigates.We waited for 49 and a half hours. Suddenly the schematic screen lit up.“Hostiles out of Drive, approaching asteroid belt at maximum sub light propulsion,” reported the sensor tech. “Two platforms, one Sky Mauler capitol ship, four assault frigates, two medium destroyers.”Jasin was on the bridge, standing by the entrance. I turned around and we exchanged smart nods. It turned out our predictions were, for the most part, correct.“Send the Congress and Admiral Hite in first to distract the escorts,” I ordered.Cal opened a channel to the two ships and relayed my command.The visual screen came to life with the images of two warships emerging out of stealth in front of us. On the schematic screen enemy icons veered toward the approaching threat.“Drop the stealth?” Cal asked.I watched the icon representing Tantamous moving closer to the nearest platform. Both vessels continued their course toward the asteroids while the escorts engaged. But the platforms were unaware that a stealth-coated Protector Class was zeroing in on them. I wanted to keep it that way until the last cold second.“Not yet.”The platforms were less than a minute from entering the belt. The Tantamous was closing in fast. The platform in the rear grew larger on the screen as we narrowed the pursuit gap.“Target the rear platform,” I ordered. “No Category As. We need to conserve our stock as best we can. Use short range missiles and point kinetics. Aim for the thrusters.”A glitter of missiles, punctuated by staccato bursts of shield-penetrating, hull- puncturing rounds from point kinetic guns, perforated the platform. The besieged vessel’s thruster housing disintegrated on impact. The entire rear segment of the platform flaked away in a gaseous swell. Massive flares, doused by airless space, erupted from apertures caused by our ferocious missile/kinetic attack. Interior damage must have been devastating. The platform lurched off course, heading toward the nearest asteroid…more like a planetoid. A faint, dying glow issued from the jagged cavern where its thrusters used to be. Once ensnared in the planetoid’s gravity well, with no motive power, the platform’s demise was imminent.More short range missiles from the Tantamous streaked toward the remaining platform, exacerbating irreparable damage, shrouding the vessel in a blazing wreath of destruction.“The Sky Mauler is attempting to intercept us,” said Cal.I switched my attention from the forward view visual to the left angled view at the far upper right corner of the console.The Congress and Admiral Hite were locked in a furious tussle with the Ziran capitol ship. The space between the three close proximity combatants was ablaze with the exchange of missile and beam fire. The assault frigates scurried back and forth peppering the human ships with combustion beams. The smaller destroyers attacked from a relative distance, launching waves of missiles at the PCs. The small Ziran ships, not even a forth the size of a Protector Class, were little more than night flies harassing an armored grub rodent. The ineffectual nature of their attacks was demonstrated in the manner in which their missiles and beams collided harmlessly against the PCs’ variable density shielding.A blue-white streak of death lanced from the Congress striking one of the assault frigates in its smooth underbelly as it made strafing run over the top. The beam evidently penetrated a weak section of the ship, igniting a reactor. One second the frigate was whole, the next it was a seething billow of gas and debris.Someone hissed in savage delight. I was so fixated on the action on the screen that several seconds went by before I realized that ‘someone’ was me. I jerked my attention to the forward screen. An uending hail of kinetics from the Tantamous raked the fleeing platform, shredding its thrusters until their impulse glows faded to black. Ghostly white plumes of atmosphere from breeches in the platform’s upper rear vented with volcanic intensity.“Dammit, incoming!” Shouted the sensor tech. “Sky Mauler missile launch…signatures register as high grade nukes.”That was enough to remind me that I was definitely not a spectator in this affair.The Ziran capitol ship may have been heavily engaged with our PCs, but it still managed to open a window from which to target and lob a few equivalents of Category As right up our asses. I gripped the armrests of my chair tighter than normal as kinetics from our rear guns pulsed in precision waves toward the oncoming missiles. Four missiles were hit, their impact detonations so bright as to strain the optic capacity of the view screen polarizers. The fifth and last missile actually banked, avoiding a file of kinetics that ripped past it.“It adjusted,” whispered Kelte. “The Zirans never deployed missiles like that against the Tacherins!”Cal glanced up at the weapons officer on the high deck to his right.“Switching to dispersal fire pattern,” the boyish looking officer announced without being asked.Kinetics flew toward the remaining missile in a wide arc. The missile zigzagged through this metal gale with a maneuverability rivaling a pilot-operated fighter craft.I didn’t know what to expect. The missile was closing in, seemingly unhindered by the fire directed its way.I inhaled and waited for death.
Read more…
