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Inquiring Minds

Ray Bradbury – Something Wicked this Way Comes

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Hello Readers of the fantasy realm.

You may already know this but I wanted to mention this very important current event,  Ray Bradbury, the great Horror,Fantasy, Science Fiction writer  died this Tuesday June 5th 2012 at the age of 91.  I heard coincidentally it was during the time Venus was in transit across the sun as viewed by us Earthbound aliens. So I think that is fitting.  Venus won’t transit the  Earth  for another 100+yrs as viewed by us down here and we probably won’t get a writer to come along like him for just as long.

I’d say he lived a pretty full life,  filled with magic, love, good friendships, and genuine appreciation by his critics and readers. What more could you ask for in a life as a writer.  His legacy will live on for many years. He has certainly influenced me in what I see I want to be as a writer.  I grew up with a lot of his stories.  From the aforementioned title of this blog  – “Something Wicked this way Comes”  a  little Horror/Fantasy horror yarn about a diabolical carnival coming to a small town,  to Fahrenheit 451  – a dysotopian story so many other writers have tried to illuminate often  in their own writing.

What I love I about him as a writer, was that he was so electic.  He could go from writing  a short love story like the “Laurel and Hardy Love Affair”  to  a fantasical endearing friends epoch little adventure set on the night of Halloween in the story called  “Halloween Tree.”  to his Science Fiction piece – “Martian Chronicles”  and do them all so convincingly with new ideas never before explored, along with new perspectives to be pondered.

You believe the characters. You believe the fantastic situations. You believed the emotions. You believe the possibilites. He will simply be missed as a voice in all these genres.

I know many other authors and writers who followed his work have probably benefited from his many teachings whether they realized it or not when trying to translate their own stories from their inner minds to pen and paper. I know I have greatly.

I hope to do him and writers like him justice one day. Thank you Ray Bradbury for being a part of my life eventhough you didn’t know you were.

Inquiring Minds, Stories and Story Excerpts

Flash Fiction Story – ‘Flight through the Forest’

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Marek ran hard through the thick underbrush, wary of outlying limbs or wet patches of dew covered  grass. No need to go down in a tumble, then he would should surely be dead. Almost there, he thought wildly.  Almost there, was still not near enough.  Do these things ever tire? The gods know I am, he thought.

He could hear their caterwauling screeches all around him as they communicated  to each other in some inane language he couldn’t began to understand, cooperating, trying to box him, trying to trap him. Intelligent little bastards, he wouldn’t have thought as much. Out the corner of his eye he saw a flit of shadowed forms appear and then disappear suddenly out of the darkened mists which collected in clumps on the forest floor like a rolling wispy snake crawling across the ground.

They were gaining on him.  If they surrounded him he would be hard pressed to fight through them.  One creature no problem,two no problem,hell not to boast but ten would probably be no problem for his strong sword arm,  but to his estimation there were hundreds. So he ran like the dog he was.

It didn’t help that as he ran he was hindered, with one hand having to hold the large package that he was hired to steal back from a temple of zealots buried deep in this god forsaken forest he now ran in. Half his job was done, now he was entrusted to return the package to its rightful owner, King Erris; whose contract he had  foolishly taken on. The second half of the deal was looking to be harder than the first had been.

Knowing of his reputation as a cunning fighter and fearless warrior they had offered him a payment of  twenty thousand in gold, literally a Kings ransom indeed! How could he refuse! The few meager coppers he had in his pouch along with the pitcher of ale in his hand when the King’s men approached him in the bar had been his only possessions besides the sword and the clothes on his back. The meager coin and ale looked more inviting at this moment, not to mention the big hipped serving  wench who had been giving him the eye all through the night while he drank his weight in spirits.

Let this be a lesson learned if he survived. Some jobs were just to big for any amount of gold to be had.

The King said the treasure stolen by the religious fanatics was more priceless than anything, worth more than a thousand kingdoms he had told him. If this treasure was not returned, kingdoms would fall, men would die, destinies would be denied. What was this treasure that the King had stolen from , Marek had asked. The King would not say even when Marek had pressed him. Only that he would know it  when he came upon it. Four other contracts such as him had already failed, some individuals like him, others who had went in teams of three or four.  Only one man had returned of them all, empty-handed and had died three days later from his inflicted wounds but not before giving them the valuable information of where the treasure was being held inside the temple.

Know it Marek soon did , as he had crept into the inner sanctum of the black veined marbled temple after scaling up the almost vertical walls to the uppermost parapets where he was told it would be housed in a circular chamber guarded by the blackest of demon dogs you never would wish to encounter. The three dogs surrounded its circumference , all clad in steel mail over their entire body with the color of the darkest pitch stealing the  light as it hit its surface.  Sharp canines dripped spittle from their massive muzzles to burn like acid upon the stones they walked.

Marek had quickly rushed one catching it by surprise sending it  over the edge to tumble and bounce against the hard stone far below.  The other two well, they had been a little tougher to deal with not being caught by surprise.

Luckily they had never been trained to work together against a common foe. As they advanced on him they actually more than once snarled and bit at each other to see who could get to kill Marek first.

He had used their dislike for each other to his  advantage by keeping one always in front him with the other behind its companion  causing the rear dog to lash out at the other dog’s heels in frustration.

He had  taken the front demon dog in the eye with the point of his sword when it was distracted sending it into a wild spasm as his sword entered into its brain and scrambled it like eggs in a frying pan.

The other dog had advanced on Marek slowly, weary now that its two companions had been so  quickly dealt with by this new adversary.

Marek knew he had to dispatch this thing soon before any others came along, but he didn’t dare go in for a strike to the thing’s mailed body and risk the creatures bite or even drippings of its spittle on him which could cause him to lose the use of his arm in an instant. So he did what he was good at, he ran.

The creature thought him scared and running for his life so it had become emboldened and ran after him. Marek ran faster and gained some distance on him and then he suddenly stopped. The creature’s momentum carried it forward and with blade held at eye level, Marek jumped high into the air toward the creature as it came in its headlong rush at him. He came down in a stabbing arc to the top of the creature’s head to bury his blade in deep dead center between the dogs ears punching through  the black mail covering its skull. It quivered and died.

With the last of the beasts dispatched he had entered through the bronze doors to the inner chamber.  There inside on a raised dais made of white marble inside a crystal bowl of the palest blue was a baby wrapped in a red silk blanket. Nothing else had been in the room chamber save that. So he knew what the treasure was as the King said he would.

These creatures that chased him now were different than the foul dogs he had faced. These things seemed almost human in nature but twisted with thin whip like bodies and elongated distorted  limbs propelled them through the forest after him. He only caught glimpses of them as he ran but that had been enough to spur him to a faster pace.

Through it all the baby had been as  quiet as a mouse not saying a word. It just looked up at him as he had run with its deep blue eyes with all the confidence in the world it seemed, that Marek would carry him from out of this place, safe and sound back to his home. For very personal reasons  one being his own neck, Marek didn’t want to let the little imp down.

The day was coming up fast as the sun was just breaking the horizon ahead through  the trees. Soon he would be able to see clearly what was chasing him. The trees were becoming more spread out and the vegetation less dominate in places. He was nearing the edge, he may yet have a chance. These creatures he was told, feared the desert, that was why the other man had made it out and back to tell the tale. He just had to get there first.

Then the thing happened he did not wish to have happened, his right foot caught the edge of a wet moss-covered rock throwing him off-balance. He instinctively rolled into the fall across the ground smothering the baby in a loose  but tight protective cocoon with his arms and hands as he did so. Marek ended up on his back looking up at the nighttime sky  through the forest trees, it was a dim blue with a wisp of white creeping in.

He heard the chattering of many voices draw near. Marek tried to stand but was met with pain in his left ankle. It felt like he had twisted it. Gods that ale would taste good right about now, he thought idly.

They drew in closer, from behind, to the left, right and now they closed the circle, in the front. His exit to the east was closed.

He forced himself to stand. fighting through the pain and drew his sword, leaning against a nearby tree for support. He saw an army of them crawling over the ground to him. Their eyes started to glow gold in the burgeoning light of day as they neared.

He looked down at the baby he held still with its eyes blue and confident in him. The treasure to topple Kingdoms the King had said, for destinies to be lost or made.  What will they say of me little one?

Marek reached out a finger to touch the little one’s cheek. The babe held up its to  little hand to grab it. Marek noticed a tattoo, better yet a birthmark it seemed on its small forearm in the shape of a Crescent moon with a pale mist of cloud passing in front of it.

Marek made a sharp intake of breath. Could it be. The Redeemer?

He had heard the prophecies but he had never thought to see it come in his lifetime.

He gripped his sword tighter in his hand and looked out at the horde. They were all but twenty feet away in tight circle about him. They had stopped. They were waiting for me to turn him over to them.

They stood motionless shoulder to shoulder. A hair could not have slid between the space they allowed.

Arms ending with three sharp talons rested on the ground twitched occasionally, perhaps in anticipation of his imminent death at their hands and the fulfillment of their task the creatures had been sent for..

They did not chatter at each other or at him.  They just looked at him with cold dead stares. Their thin slit likes mouths were all closed tight in a devilish grin as if to say game over my friend.

He did the only thing he could. He tigtened his grip on his sword and the little one and grinned right back and said,

“Come on.” He whispered softly.

The babes tattoo began to burn bright against its  flesh, the moon glowing on its skin as if set high in a nighttime sky.

The pain in his ankle was gone, his strength had returned tenfold.

He raised his sword high and came at them with a growl…

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Into the Woods – A Poem

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Into the Woods

The young man walked into the darkening woods

few dared tread even in daylight,

for there were many a tale of a sly fey or evil

sprite who walked there at night.

 

Not caring for rogue or dark highwayman to

lay upon him on the open road as he slept,

he sought the sanctuary of the deep forest

instead for his bed.

 

He bunkered down next to a dead fallen tree

and built a small fire against the cold that crept

as the sun crawled deep and fled into a hole

in the ground as he prepared for sleep.

 

He stared into the fire and being young let his

fancies take flight, beginning to imagine eyes in

the woods contemplating him, waiting for him

in the burgeoning night.

 

He wasn’t a child to lose himself,

so he shook off his disquiet and the cold and closed

his weary eyes pretending to be bold and found sleep

even through his fear of the unknown.

 

Into the night he slept until the crescent moon

shone high overhead casting pale blue shadows

across his face and breast as he slept on his

forest bed.

 

Now some say if the moon finds you in the forest

other things may as well, like a beacon to a boat

far off shore.

 

The young man started awake to the feeling

of a finger lightly brushing his cheek,

cold but oddly yet full of heat.

 

The fire was mere embers casting a feeble light,

but he could see the outline of a figure nearby, one arm

outstretched toward him, sitting in a low crouch

swaying to and fro and cooing as if in love.

 

 The young man sprang up and backed over and

behind the tree and clutched at the hag bone which

hung around his neck for encounters such as these.

 

A good thing his talisman he wore for he may have

found himself dead in the morn.

 

“Come hither, Come closer.” It seemed to whisper in

his very ear, even though the creature was across from him

and not near.

 

It moved closer and the light from the dying fire

caught its face just so to reveal black pupils set against

black orbs which should have been bone white.

 

The face sneered at him with a clown like grin showing

a full set of razor sharp teeth within, while all the while green

flecked saliva dripped and slipped down its pointy chin.

 

It licked its lips with a tongue as red as blood and smelled the

air seeming to mark the man’s scent if  he should run.

“Sit and talk brother, I am alone I just wish a little company

in my forest home.”

 

“I am no brother of yours darkling, be gone from my sight!”

the young man yelled back shaking his talisman as he held

it tight.

 

“You are more kin than you know, do you think it mere

happenstance that I appear before you so?”

 

The creature looked at him from across the dim fire and

stared into him deep. Shadows danced on the creature’s face

as its dead eyes bore into him full of dead life and fathomless heat.

 

“You are my brother, for your heart is as dark as mine, for it beats

within you and called to me for it keeps the same time.

No moon called me to this place, nothing but your blackheart

pulled me to your presence and this forest space.”

 

 The young man said nothing but continued to clutch the talisman he wore.

The creature smiled and looked at what he held so desperately to his breast

for it knew the man’s secrets and oh so much more.

 

“Why should that help you in a time such as this? Should it not turn

on its owner and prove itself dead instead?”

 

“You will die as they did, oh yes. I see your eyes tell the lie on your lips

as you twist the truth you try to spit.”

 

“You saw the little farm house, deep in the wood and all alone?”

“A  husband, wife and daughter safe in their home

in the night, as you stared in their window and

crouched like I do now so low.”

 

“You crept inside when the night was still and killed the man while fast asleep.

Then you had your way with mother and daughter both and

all the while you smiled and laughed as if it all a joke.”

 

Like a lightning stroke the creature grabbed the young man’s hand and

ripped open his grasp and flung the worthless talisman from the young man’s

hands into the cold dewy grass.

 

The young man eyes opened wide and

 implored to the creature “Please I don’t want to die.”

“Hmm..that was the same said by the mother and child”

“Remember what you replied?”

Then you should not have taken up residence so deep in these woods.

 

With that the creature buried its teeth

into the young’s man’s neck and drank deep

of his brother all the while the young man

screamed for release.

 

Now the tales say if you go deep into the woods you

may run afoul of dark things at night, but the tales also

say be wary of the darkness in your own heart.

Inquiring Minds, Writing Challenges

BadAss Woman Match UP! WRITING CHALLENGE.

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Well, the votes are in. I asked my readers a few weeks ago to check out the sixteen Bad Ass Woman of Fantasy and Horror I listed in my Blog to see which TWO they would wish to see in a fight and to find who would win (at least in my mind anyways).  After tallying the  over overabundance of votes from my readers and followers we have a MATCH UP!

Actually I am being sarcastic.  I did not get ONE VOTE from any of my followers or readers to my page. Thank you very much.

I guess BADASS WOMAN are not that  important in the world!  No respect I tell you..Oh well, be that as it may, I promised a fight and I’m gonna give you a fight DAMMIT! Besides this was not only a challenge to my readers, it was also to myself as a writer to work on creating good fight sequences….practice practice practice ya know.

I randomly pulled two names from my list out of a hat for the bout and came up with Ta Da !:  Trinity from the Matrix  Movie VS   Lara Croft from Tomb Raider the game (and movies I guess):  I think  that is actually a pretty even match up considering the rest of the women on the list. So here it goes below!

Rumble in the Jungle:

Trinity leaned back in the soft black leather chair as Neo  adjusted her straps.

Neo came in close and whispered in her ear. “I think you’ll like this program. I made it myself, you might say it’s a fantasy of mine.” Neo  smiled at her.

Trinity gave him a curious smile back but said nothing as she settled into the chair.

“We’re ready Neo, we can go anytime.”   Link said standing behind them next to the control panel.

Neo nodded to Link and  gave Trinity a light kiss on the lips. “Ready?” he asked her.

“Always – I wanna see how good of a programmer you’ve become my dear.” she grinned at him challengely.

Neo shoved the connection port into the back of Trinitys skull…and her world went white.

5 milliseconds later …Loading Training Program 4212.10. Jungle Scene – Sequencing..Overlaying…Initiationing Insertion –

Trinity found herself standing next to a slow running stream on a  fallen log mottled with green moss and overrun with  brown fungi clinging to its bark.  A myriad of different trees surrounded the spot she stood, most  reached fifty to hundred feet in the air with a few others reaching higher yet up to maybe two-hundred feet or more  high above the main canopy of the  the jungle she now seemd to be in.   – Dense foliage spread out along the ground forming the landscape at ground level enveloping her in a cocoon of rich green plant life.

After taking in the beautiful scenery, the second thing that struck Trinity was that it was  hot as hell, sweat was all already starting to collect and drip from her. She looked down at what she was wearing and had to smile.

On her feet were a set of sturdy brown hiking boots, light but durable with probably good traction.  A pair of skin tight brown cotton shorts came up just shy of her belly button to ride on her hips, the shorts  reached no lower than mid thigh level if that. A well made sports bra of the same brown color  covered the top of her.  Two highly polished silver semi-autos each with a fifteen round clip were strapped to her on either side of her breasts tucked just underneath her armpits. She also noticed she had two throwing knives  strapped to each wrist as well.

Neo you naughty boy.

“Why have you been following me, who sent you?”  a womans voice asked from out of the jungle unseen.  A british woman’s voice by the sound of it, Trinity thought. What is Neo playing it. I”ll play along…for now.

“Just out fishing, see.”    Trinity pointed at the stream as if to say, isn’t it obvious,  and gave the woman where ever she was a wide smile; Trinity thought perhaps twenty meters to her left on an out cropping of rock downriver behind a some dense bushes but she had to be sure.

The woman laughed , “Most people use a pole when fishing. I don’t have time for games, tell me who sent you.”

Got her, Trinity thought, definitly twenty meters up on the cropping and defiinitely British. I didnt know Neo had a thing for British women, she mused.

“Well I’m not most people.” Trinity casually walked over to the stream and watched the water for a moment until she spied what she was looking for. Lighting quick she bent and reached into the stream and pulled out a struggling striped fish at the base of its tail. It was as big as her head, Trinity held it up  for the mystery  woman to see. That oughta impress her.

“I must say I’m impre-” The brish woman voice cut off as Trinity  dropped the fish and spun towards the sound of the woman’s voice and let go with one of the throwing knives on her wrist towards the spot. Trinity’s knife  flew straight and true  and hit dead center into the foliage. She was greeted with a solid thunk as it stuck into wood.

Dammit, Trinity thought,  missed.

Trinity sprinted directly  towards the spot along the stream weaving  as she did so whoever it was could not get a bead on her at a distance. She pulled both her guns at the same time firing as she ran directly into the bush ahead of her.

No one jumped out at her. No one fired at. No one said a word. Hmmm,  perhaps I got her. Trinity  approached the bush and came to a halt in front of it.  Most of the bush was destroyed, leaves hung in tatters from its branches with not much left to speak of to call it a bush. The blade she had thrown was stuck deep into the base of it, but no dead woman behind  it.  Trinity realize she had  emptied both her clips from her guns into the now very dead bush and  she had not been given a single extra clip to replace them from the vast inventory of supplies she had been given. Thanks Neo, love you to.

“Just a fishing eh?” the womans voice now seemed to be coming from where she had been standing before  – perhaps behind that tall  thick cacao tree some ten feet beyond the point.

“Didnt know you needed a gun to go fishing, I estimate you have no bullets left in that gun and only one of those knives left on your person unless I’m mistaken.”  The woman sounded very sure of herself , Trinity thought. She was begininning not to like her very much. Hope your enjoying the show Neo.

The woman who was only a voice until now suddenly stepped from behind the tree Trinity had suspected. She was a fair complected woman with very long dark brown hair done up in a  single braid down her back.  She was wearing pretty much  the same outfit as Trinity but with her guns strapped at mid-thigh but  less the knives and was just as tall Trinity..  Trinity saw she had a small grey metal  cube  in her left hand which she held lightly with her thumb hovering over two buttons and she was very pretty. Neo.

“Now, I will ask you one last time, who are you and who sent you, please don’t make me ask you again.” she said grinning at her.

“PAUSE PROGRAM” Trinity said aloud.  All was quiet.,no jungle heat assaulted her body,  no birds chirped, no branches swayed in the wind high up in the canopy,  the stream was frozen in its bed not moving, most of all the bitch wasn’t talking, she was just standing there not moving. I am not jealous, she told herself she’s just a program.

“Scenery is nice but is this best you can do Neo, a jungle girl archeologist in tight brown shorts and a  pony tail with a british accent?” She said to the forest knowing he could hear her.

“Let’s get this over with. RE-Commence PROGRAM” she said. Sound and movement along with the oppressive heat returned.

“My name is Trinity, and Neo sent me to kick your ass. Satisfied” Trinity said.  Time to try something new even he hasn’t  see me do yet.

She slowy pulled the small throwing blade from its holder on her wrist and held it up to reflect the light through the trees then just let it drop to the ground as if to say to the other woman,  See I mean you know harm.  Trinity concentrated then very hard on the metal of the blade she had just dropped, the look of it , the feel, the weight. She felt it.  Ready. She had a theory she wanted to try now.

She drew both of her guns and and pointed them at the woman ” You forgot about the extra bullet in each of the chambers” . Trinity blinked and the woman suddenly wasn’t there. Just empty space where she had once been followed by a popping sound.

Trinity whirled to her right in a heart beat when she heard another popping sound not far away and fired both her guns. Click with the Hammer on both guns. Nothing and Nothing again.

“You were bluffing, why you little bugger.”  She smiled again at Trinity with that wicked grin she was beginning to come to hate already.

“How are you doing that?” Trinity asked calmly behind her sun glasses as she lowered her guns.

“Aah, a little thing I picked up from a Techie friend of mine, certified genuis really.”  She wiggled the little box she held in her hand.

“It creates an inversion in space-time in a localized area and pulls me into it and pops me out the other side. Kinda tickles.” she said and smiled  again at Trinity.

“It’s kind  of fun, you  oughta  try it”  she smiled again Trinity.

“Thanks, maybe I will.”  The knife Trinity had thrown slammed into the womans hand piercing the palm holding the small cube.

Trinity ran for the woman has she sat clutching her bleeding left hand. The woman looked up and saw her running towards her and went for one of her guns. Trinity did the only thing she could do, and that was to throw one of her own guns directly at her. The woman was good, she had her gun drawn and was just about to pull the trigger before the butt of Trinity’s gun caught her full in the chin propelling back and hard to the jungle floor.

 Trinity walked over to her and shoved her with her foot so she laid faced up. She squatted down and grabbed her by her pony-tail and slapped her lightly on the face.

“Wake up.” Trinity slapped her a little harder. The woman moaned and her eyes fluttered opened.

“Now, I wanna know something . What’s your name?” Trinity asked

“You don’t know? It’s Lara, Lara Croft”  the woman said weakly.

“Well Lara Croft, I’m sorry to say this, but it’s Game Over”  The last thing Lara saw was Trinity’s fist connecting with her face.

Training Program 4212.10. Jungle Scene Concluded – Initiationing De-Insertion – System Purge of Program – Ready for acquisition of new program

Trinity opened her eyes slowly, readjusting to the momentary vertigo sometimes felt coming out.

“She’s back” Link said.

“Well, how did you like my new program I will admit I concentrated more on the visuals than the fighting but it was meant to be a strategic training session more so than a combat one and I had to have the setting just so, and what was that with the knife at the end…I’ve never seen you do that before.” Neo asked looking intently at her.

“I can see you worked hard on the visuals.  But I still kicked the visual’s ass, as for the knife, every girl’s got to have  her secrets now doesn’t she.” Trinity leaned in as if she was going to kiss him, but instead got up out of the chair and walked down  the gangplank to go back to her quarters.

She gave Neo a backwards glance, “You coming, I have to change first, maybe into some shorts, it’s so hot in here”  and then she continued on.

Neo followed after and Link just smiled to himself alone next to his console.

Inquiring Minds

My Endless Climb over an ever Growing Mountain of Rejections

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I said I would keep you abreast of my progress in the world of writing regarding my submission for my stories/poetry  to various publishers so here goes.

I have been racking up a lot of rejection letters lately for my writing of my stories and poems.

I received my first rejection letter for my 23,00 word  Novella, “Roadkill“.  that I submitted approximately 60 days ago. One good thing I guess is I got it back early so now I can submit it to other publishers for consideration. Always gotta look on the bright side. The only things that bugs me is all they said was “We have finished reviewing Roadkill for publication and have decided to pass.  Thanks for submitting to us and best wishes.”  I know there probably  busy but they  could they have least  thrown me a bone. Like,  feel free to try submitting again with another story when you are ready. Something like that maybe. Just a little encouragement would be nice.Cmon!

Trouble is I’m realizing that Novella length stories are hard to push to most publishers. They either want short stories from 1,000 words to  15,000 words with the average being accepted being about 8-10,000. There a few out there who to take them but only a very few I’m learning want the Novella Length. They want full length Novels in the 90,000 + Word Count or Short stories period.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not sitting on my hands waiting for rejections on one story. Hell no! I’ve  still been writing new stories and submitting & waiting on rejections for those as well…ha ha. I have  recently sent in a much shorter story at about 3,300 words called “Devils in the Details” to various  publishers. Two have since rejected it. I have just sent it to another publisher just the other day so we will see about that one.

I did already find another publisher  to submit “Roadkill” to so I will be sending that one in again soon; and the countdown begins all over again.

I have submitted some of my darker poetry into various publications with no luck yet as well. One called “Into the Deep Woods”, I think is really good. I am waiting on one online magazine response so we will comes of that.

I am also just finishing up another  story in the  7000 to 8000 Words range that  I will try to be turning into a publisher soon as well.

I am pretty pragmatic about my writing. I know its a long shot careerwise. I do know that all this writing is shaping me into the writer I am supposed to be one day.  I am really trying to work on my prose by fine tuning character development, plotting and scenes along with conflicts that insue in all that goes with it. If anything these short stories help me with that greatly, and besides to create a character and building a new world, for me is a satsifying thing. I want to know what happens to that man who is cast out into a boat in the middle of stormy night on an open  dark ocean. You wanna see what happens to him.

Wish me luck in my endeavors and I wish you luck in yours as well

Inquiring Minds, Stories and Story Excerpts

Letting Go

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In one of my of creative writing classes, we would sometimes do 10 min writing exercises where the teacher would pick a phrase and we would have to madly write something for the next ten minutes surrounding that phrase, After the ten minutes were done “PENCILS DOWN PLEASE”  and what you got is what you got….I was proud of this very very very short story and was even prouder when my teacher at the time  decided to read it in front of the class instead of the other twenty-eight submitted stories. I will never forget his words.  “I wish to read this story  by one of your fellow students because I found something in it to be very compelling. You be the judge.”   I am not stating all this to brag just to express that I felt elated that someone liked what I had written and got what I was trying to relate and that finally my  real desire for writing had found me in that moment.

 

 Letting Go

“I’m gonna let go, but I don’t know where I’m gonna fall to?” asked the dirty faced little boy who hung limply from a clothesline in the pitch blackness over a deserted alley some four stories high.

“That’s right Michael” said the other much older boy who hung out the window with one hand in a tight knuckled grip on the window sill and the other on the clothesline from which Michael hung.  “You gotta drop straight down and let us see what you’re made of.  We’ve all had to do it, you won’t be the first,” the boy said in a matter fact tone.

Michael looked up from where he hung at the older boy who had spoken to him, his face and body were hidden in the myriad of shadows the surrounding buildings cast upon him. It seemed to Michael that the shadows spoke to him, the voice didn’t belong to anyone at all just a disembodied entity wanting him to fall to his doom. Michael looked up higher to the stars overhead, his only source of light. He gazed at the nighttime sky, the dancing twinkling night.  He had never noticed the stars twinkle as much as he did this night. It made him ponder, it made him think. It made him come to a decision.

He took one last look, time to see what he was made of he thought. He gave the shadowy boy a nod and let go. Just like that.

He fell for an eternity. His long hair was pulled upward as he heard the rush of air flow past his ears.  The beat of his heart was the only other intrusion upon his senses as he fell. The stars above were lost in a deep blackness that couldn’t be pierced, like falling down a well at night. Thump! He had landed and he was alive. Somehow he was alive.  Michael got up and stood amidst the cheering, hooting and hollering of the other boys that had waited down below. Then he simply turned from them and walked away and never looked back. He did look up though at the twinkling stars.

The End

Poetry Work

Blue Balloon

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Through a Blue Balloon

I see one color as I’m driving down the road.

That’s Blue.

Blue through my blue Balloon.

 

I see a Blue lady walking her short blue dog with a leash.

 

I see a Blue Officer waving and saying hello to a bunch

of Blue kids he meets.

 

Everything is Blue. Even though I know the truth.

It doesn’t matter

which way I turn my head I’m surrounded by a Blue ocean of color

consuming my sight.

 

Is that light green up ahead?

It’s hard to tell through a balloon made of Blue.

 

Oh, but that blue girl jogging in her tight Blue shorts

Now she’s something to see wouldn’t you agree?

Hey, I think she’s staring at me.

She must like a well-manicured gentleman of Blue

Who knew?

 

So unique.

What a wonderful view as I drive down

The Blue streaked street.

 

No other color as far as the eye can see.

Blue in the back. Blue in the front.

From side to side.

I think I’m having a Blue attack!

 

I like the world I’ve made for myself

So simple. So easy to define.

No other nasty colors to confuse and blind.

Simply divine.

 

Through my Blue balloon,

That’s how I see. That’s how I want

life to look for everyone and me.

 

Call me crazy. Call me a fool.

But to see the world in a bright shade of Blue

should be the rule.

 Blue, Blue through my beautiful Balloon.

Inquiring Minds, Poetry Work

Haikus of Horror and Fantasy

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I have been visiting a lot of sites lately devoted to horror and fantasy. I have mainly being doing this for a two reasons. First, is because I’m actually interested in other people’s stuff because I’m a big fan of  both genres.  Next, was to see the talent (and competition)  that’s out there in horror and fantasy for what’s being published and bench mark myself a little to see if I have what it takes to get published.  After reading the good, the bad and the hideous in various publications around the web I would say YES!, I do have what it takes to get published (and paid) for my writing.  Anyways there is hope for me yet.

In my fledgling posts here on my blog  I am  always attempting to have the visitor get a sense of me, where my mind likes to wander and where I may be going in the future with my talents as a writer you may wish to read and check out.  To preface the below set up I picked some of my favorite pictures related to aspects of horror or fantasy and wrote a little haiku to capture that very moment or scene. I often will do writing exercises like this to help limber up my brain prior to writing a story.

I would love to hear any comments or thoughts on if I got it “right”…hell I would love to hear your own Haiku of said picture. So please respond if a thought or comment tickles your brain.

The Abbey in the Oakwood

Darkness falls deeply
Hallowed ground never disturbed
Lest the spirits rise

Conan The Warrior

Blade drawn and battered
Warrior's blood soaks the ground
Death cannot find him

No Escape!

Cold hands tight on throat
Black grave no longer asleep,
now not so alone.

Red Sonja

Deep in thought she sits,
Cursed to suffer, blessed to kill
with strength in her heart

A Door Opens

Door opened to light.
Blood trail shows a fools luck,
a door best kept shut

The Tree of Snakes

A tree of snakes hiss
Undulating mass of skin
fall like leaves on me

The Clown

Painted red and white,
the clown smiles keenly at me
with teeth razor sharp.

Spider on my Arm

Delicate and soft,
the Spider walks up my arm,
witches good luck charm

So what do you think? Care to give it a go?  Should I assume everyone knows how to write in Haiku Form? If not the writing formula is simple, it’s basically 5 syllables for the first line, 7 for the second and 5 again for the third line. Give it a try..I would love to see what you come up with besides my own stuff..Thanks!

Inquiring Minds

Fear, Fantasy, and Feelings in my Writing

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I have finally submitted my story “Roadkill”  to a publisher for consideration! As the submission process goes I will not find out for about 90days what the results will be. So wish me luck!   If you wish to see a sampling of that story please look to my Blog category above entitled “Story Excerpts”  to find it.(or the blog directly above this one)   Below is my latest blog on what makes me tick as writer somewhat and for you the potential reader get to know me a little bit better and give you a sense of  where I’m coming from…

Fear, Fantasy, and Feelings in my writing? Why whatever do you mean Mr. Wardlow? Well first, I am not talking about what I actually write about. I am not talking about the sentence I write that creates a scene for you, the reader, to get you into the mood for what’s coming next around the corner. I am not talking about the fear which may trickle into your brain and tickle the mind into wanting to look over your shoulder as you walk a lonely trail or to look a little closer at that open closet door in your room at night as you lay in bed.

I am not talking about the fancies or fantasies which may take you from the daily mundane life that you may lead to a magical arena where possibilities of life abound with but a belief in it wholeheartedly.
I am not talking about feelings for a character or a conflict that has your soul invested in those bounded pages (or digitized pages) you hold in your hands as long as the story lasts (may it be forever).

No, I am talking about MY fears, MY Fantasies, MY feelings when it comes to writing. All three have been present and continue to be present in me when I write.

First let’s take Fear. Isn’t that a feeling? Yep, you betcha. So why I do I call out it separately. Well for me, it’s what drives me. It’s a big Neon Light. A big “F” blinking in my brain at times, for awhile though it was what want drove everything else away about my writing. It pushed away my passion for it; it pushed away the wonder of it. It held me down like giant’s foot pressed heavy upon my chest. Even now I am wondering as I write this, who I am to be talking about myself, who am I to think I can talk about myself, who am I to think anyone cares what I have to say matters. Who am I? Then the fear goes away because this is who I am. I think there is value in what I say. Take it or leave it. So I am glad that I have that fear from time to time. I am glad it is there, ready to creep in. I believe it keeps me and my work real ultimately in the end.

Now comes the Fantasy part; for me it’s allowing my brain to access the childlike part of me. It is the what-ifs in life, the endless scenarios, and the dreams most people seem to find only when their heads hit the pillow at night when they fall to sleep. I often get lost in thought on a story or have an errant thought meandering through my mind from a scene all day long. I remember my mother when I was very young in life taking me to see an ear specialist because she thought I was going deaf. So often I would ignore her unintentionally when she talked to me directly. (I past all the hearing tests with flying colors) I have always wanted more to the story of my life than what I was born into as so many of us probably do. I found this escape through daydreaming, movies, reading, and writing. It’s my form of meditation in life.

Finally we come to Feelings, what a word that is. I cannot sit down to write unless I feel something. I cannot put pen to paper unless I’m inspired to write, or so I thought. That thought in the beginning of my desire to be a writer was my Achilles heel. It was a self-made self-induced writer’s block to my psyche and my performance. I don’t wait for that feeling anymore. I found you can’t if you wish to be a serious writer and for the longest time I didn’t get that.
Sting, one of my favorite songwriters and singers said pretty much the same thing. He said  (I’m paraphrasing here), that writing is the most difficult thing he does but he doesn’t wait to be inspired. He goes after it and basically wrestles it to the ground until it submits to his will. So I guess that’s the best analogy for what I do. I wrestle the story to the ground and put it in a choke hold until it passes out. You’re mine you little bastard.

I look to great things happening in my life. I expect it be hard fought to get what I want. I know the odds. I look forward to the challenge. I have the tools to get me there, my fear keeps me sharp, my daydreaming keep me supplied with endless ideas, and my feelings keep me grounded.

As they always say, if it was easy everyone would do it

Inquiring Minds

Ain’t no rest for the wicked…..

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Welcome to my first blog page post . Like my title?  definitely not getting any rest and I’m only wicked if I haven’t had my coffee in the morning.

This is my first attempt at blogging so bear with me. I am a quick learner…but until I learn to navigate this thing it will probably be pretty uneventful on here for awhile. Even though I am a quick learner there is so much time in a day or night.

I am currently in the process of becoming a well renowned Horror/Fantasy/Sci Fi author (for now you must label me a writer) and this is my first step into marketing myself to the people who might be reading my stuff one day. Hopefully sooner than later if the publishers like my first submission I am plan on turning in this week actually. (won’t find out for about 90 days as the  submission process goes)

What submission do you say?  ….well it’s a nice little scary story entitled “RoadKill”. It’s about a man named Adrian who has to face his own fears from his past  first before he can face the thing that has kidnapped a family member. Will he succeed in both or fail in both…Do horror stories have happy endings? Maybe you will find out if this thing gets published.

In the coming months I will let keep you up to date on where I am at in the submission process…these things take a while but I’m always pessimistically optimistic about the events in my life…

In the mean time I am working on my next story called “A Dark Place” which I am about 9 pages into. I plan about tripling that number before I’m done. I tend to write long when it comes to stories, usually novella length (17k to 30K words). I will also keep you up to date with my progress in that as well.

I will also try to keep you entertained with some writing of my mine,  such as some of my darker poetry which entails aspects of horror, fantasy, and the occasional dark matter in life.

My style is a work  in a progress but I’m getting there.  Hope you enjoy!

I will try hard to balance writing my stories, learning this frigging blogging mumbo jumbo, and being consistent at least on weekly basis with a new blogging showing more of who I am and what I am about through my writing.

Thanks for listening…and watch out for the shadows in the corners ..things like to hide there and just stare at you.