Door Number Green

A short story for today and some artwork. 

Door Number Green is a short story based on a prompt. 

The butterflies at the bottom are from my daughter, drawn for another release.

*~*

Door Number Green

Moses pounded on the door. His po-po knock, as his wife called it. It often came in handy in getting people’s attention. He needed it now. Desperately. He shifted his burden, pounding again with weaker, icky thumps smearing red across the green paint.

“We don’t—”

“Open the door!” he roared. “I’ve got wounded!”

The door swung open and Moses fell in. Someone dragged him and his ward into the foyer before slamming the door.

Moses woke, blinking rapidly at the harsh light. He was on a bed in a small room with one closed door. On one side was a nightstand beside an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair at the bedside. On the other side of the bed hung a bloodbag and saline connected to his arm.

“Where is she?” Moses tried to rise, but a gently placed hand and the tourniquet still in place encouraged him to stay put.

“Somebody did you good, my man.” The old man’s voice was a raspy whisper.

“Where is she?” Moses repeated.

“She’s recovering. Same as you. It’s a miracle, it is. My nurse can tell you more. We heard the news of course but we didn’t believe it. Can you blame us? All the fake news out there these days. Where was she?” The man’s milky eyes glimmered with hope.

A soft knock at the door was followed by the entrance of a large male nurse. Moses caught a glimpse of his gear in the hallway. 

The nurse talked as his hands busied themselves, checking bandages before pausing at the windlass. “Hi. My name is Sam. I’m Mr. Johnson’s home health nurse. I patched you up best I could. Luckily you and Mr. Johnson are both O+.” Sam undid the strap holding the windlass in place. “Now this is going to hurt.”

“No shit.” Moses took a deep breath, which confirmed at least one broken rib. “Do it.”

Moses groaned as his leg began to tingle with returning pain. The agony was raw and monstrous but tolerable.

“I gave you Dilaudid earlier. Let me know if you need some more.” 

Moses shook his head. 

“Your plates stopped most of the rounds, but I counted eight new holes in your body. That is not good for your health.” Sam redid the tourniquet, winding down the windlass and securing it in place. The minute of blood flow soaked several of the bandages around Moses’ calf. “Bad news is you’re probably going to lose the leg below the knee. Good news of course is now you’ll have a matching pair.”

“Where is she?”

“Was she at the park?” Mr. Johnson asked. “I always imagined someone would find her there.” His hands shook. “Tell me.”

“She’s in the kitchen. A few injuries. She’ll be fine. You did good, Moses. Some will call you a hero. Of course, most won’t. Boy did you pick the right house at the right time. I was just getting ready to leave when you pounded on the door!”

Songs in Stories - Stories in Song: Long Lankin

Howdy all you cool cats and kittens! Yes, I watched it, my wife made me, lol.

Songs in Stories, Stories in Songs

Something a little different today. 

I stumbled across this old gem whilst wandering around the internets late one night. It's a ballad called Long Lankin. The most common versions are about a stonemason who takes revenge on a Lord for not paying the mason for his work. The mason enters the dwelling he built, sometimes through a secret catch or entry he designed, and lures the Lady downstairs by poking her infant over and over again with a needle, causing him to scream in pain of course. The wet nurse caring for the child calls for the madam to come down because she can't get the baby to stop crying. The mason then kills both the baby and the mother. He is punished for his deeds, usually through hanging, along with the wet nurse. Nothing more is said of the Lord whose refusal to pay caused all of this mess in the first place.

That this was a popular ballad, sung by women no less, is something of a head-scratcher for me. Why would women want to sing a song about a treacherous nurse, the killing of a Lady, and hangings?

There are other notable versions and histories of the ballad out there, such as the roots of this ballad may have something to do with old rituals of 'blooding the foundations' of new buildings with a sacrifice, and the mason in some versions is a leper who used a silver basin to catch the blood of the baby as a possible cure for his disease. But I get ahead of myself... 

Here is the ballad, sung by the band Steeleye Span, for your ears to feast on. Lyrics below the lace picture, which I promise will make sense down the road.

Long Lankin

Said my lord to my lady, as he mounted his horse:
"Beware of Long Lankin that lives in the moss."

Said my lord to my lady, as he rode away:
"Beware of Long Lankin that lives in the hay."

"Let the doors be all bolted and the windows all pinned,
And leave not a hole for a mouse to creep in."

So he kissed his fair lady and he rode away,
And he was in fair London before the break of day.

The doors were all bolted and the windows all pinned,
Except one little window where Long Lankin crept in.

"Where's the lord of this house?" Said Long Lankin,
"He's away in fair London." said the false [wet] nurse to him.
"Where's the little heir of this house ?" said Long Lankin.
"He's asleep in his cradle," said the false nurse to him.

"We'll prick him, we'll prick him all over with a pin,
And that'll make my lady to come down to him.'

So he pricked him, he pricked him all over with a pin,
And the nurse held the basin for the blood to flow in.

"O nurse, how you slumber. O nurse, how you sleep.
You leave my little son Johnson to cry and to weep."

"O nurse, how you slumber, O nurse how you snore.
You leave my little son Johnson to cry and to roar."

"I've tried him with an apple, I've tried him with a pear.
Come down, my fair lady, and rock him in your chair."

"I've tried him with milk and I've tried him with pap.
Come down, my fair lady, and rock him in your lap."

"How durst I go down in the dead of the night
Where there's no fire a-kindled and no candle alight?"

"You have three silver mantles as bright as the sun.
Come down, my fair lady, all by the light of one."

My lady came down, she was thinking no harm
Long Lankin stood ready to catch her in his arm.

Here's blood in the kitchen. Here's blood in the hall
Here's blood in the parlour where my lady did fall.

Her maiden looked out from the turret so high
And she saw her master from London riding by.

"O master, O master, don't lay the blame on me
'Twas the false nurse and Lankin that killed your lady."

Long Lankin was hung on a gibbet so high
And the false nurse was burnt in a fire close by.

There are many versions of this song, once used by European lace workers in the 18th century as a 'lace tell', a tune to keep their fingers fiddling in correct cadence. The version above is from The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs, by Williams and Lloyd. The list of songs inside can be found here. 

Upon further diving, I discovered a few other possible meanings for the words of the song and came up with an interesting story idea. What if the song were a hidden lace pattern? See if you can follow the crumbs as I weave together true facts and fiction and create a story from a song, but not the one you hear...

The name Lankin (in some versions the name changes to lambkin and other names which further muddle possible meanings) can be tied to Lanking pins, which are pins that have a conspicuous head, placed along the foot and the head of the lace in order to keep a firm edge. There are also Long Toms, which is a name for general purpose pins. Could the name Long Lankin be a combination of these two terms, and meant to tell a lace worker what pins to use? All without a non-lace worker's knowledge? 

The whole ballad then becomes a hidden lace pattern. Start working on the 'building', maybe some fundamental lace pattern that all lace workers would know. It has an lower and upper floor, so maybe it has two main portions or patterns? Then the lace worker stops at a certain point and 'asks for payment' (the main pattern is stopped and the lace worker switches to something else, maybe takes a break, maybe uses a different type of thread, starts a frill pattern or a simple pattern known as the Cheapskate). 

No payment is forthcoming, so we sneak in (start a new lace that interlaces with the main base pattern at a certain point) and 'poke the baby' over and over (not sure what this would correspond with, maybe some very delicate or intricate work at the heart of the pattern or along the bottom portion of the main pattern). The wet nurse on the main floor (a specific lower portion of the main pattern such as a rose or design) calls the Lady down (maybe Lady refers to a rose or design that's fancier than the wet nurse, and calling the Lady down means attaching a portion of the upper part of the lace pattern with the invasive stitching)? 

Can you see the story and lace pattern coming together? Other key words in the ballad can direct the lace worker to add certain flourishes or details. I am not sure what this pattern creates, but I could see it being used in a story somewhere as a way for a seemingly harmless lady creating something plot-advancing.

When writing tunes for your own manuscripts, keep in mind that they should do something more than entertain musically. Does the song move the plot along? Does it provide background, world-building, or another way to dump information? As long as it serves some function, then go ahead!

And now I got to get on this hidden lace story! 

Happy writing to all!

Sun and Moon, Part II

A few months ago, I posted the first steps I took toward a new story. You can find the original post here.

Today I want to share with you where the story is now. So, for your reading pleasure, here is the second step in the evolution of a short story. Rough story first, and then the background knowledge/World rules after that. It is important to set the ground rules before you write the story so you know what you can and cannot do for climaxes, roadblocks, and solutions. 

Story: 

Coronation and Ceremony

The hermit measured his steps on the long road, leaning on his gnarled cane when needed. His robe was a worn, yellow-ish crème color, though he could easily afford a newer one.

Apprentice Caden paced restlessly by his side. His robe was sparkling white. Even burdened by the pack on his back, Caden could have easily gone twice as fast, but he maintained a close distance to Father Barosh, who was also known by his official title, The Senior Emissary of the Sun.

Just two week ago, Caden had been apprentice to the third assistant Chandler. His duties had included delivering candles to other temples and merchants, not people. But circumstances changed after the Coronation of the New Sun, and here he was, shepherding the oldest Emissary he had ever seen. It was something of an honor, as this same man had presided over the Coronation. They were now on their way to another. As witness only, this time.

“Hurry up, Father. We don’t want to be late!” Other travelers, presumably headed to the same destination, passed them by. Some flew overhead, even though the sun was still above the horizon. It always puzzled the young apprentice how moonpower worked, even though the Sacred Sun was still in the sky. The Chandler had explained to him that it was because the moon was up in the heavens as well. As long as the moon was up there, moonpower worked. Caden looked, but saw no moon in the sky. Only the Sacred Sun.

“They won’t start without us, son,” Father Barosh said, interrupting his search. “No need to worry or hurry.”

“Where is the moon, Father?”

Without looking up from the road, Father Barosh responded. “It is hidden from us. The Ceremony of Moons is always performed during what they call the New Moon, when the moon is hidden in the sky.”

“Why?”

“Their ways are different from ours, son. While we have a Sun until he loses the Challenge, their rulers can serve again and again, just not continuously. They change as the moon changes, and that includes returning to things as they once were, much like the moon changes yet looks the same.”

“But why during the New Moon? Why are they doing it near the same time as the Challenge and Coronation? Why couldn’t they wait?”

“Perhaps you will find the answer to your question during the ceremony, young one.”

They continued walking. They had ridden much of the distance from the capitol, but the hermit insisted on walking the last stretch of the road. The ceremony would take place in the larger temple south of Trew, the nearest town.

The sun was setting as the temple’s outer walls appeared ahead. Caden looked at the Emissary in confusion, unsure, thinking it blasphemous to perform the sacred rights so close to a moon temple, but Father Barosh impelled him to his task with a wave of his hand. A few of the other travelers paused and watched respectfully as the apprentice performed the Farewell to the Sun for both himself and the Emissary. No one joined in. The hermit rested behind him on a boulder. 

Hefting the pack back onto his shoulders, the apprentice and the Emissary continued on in the twilight. People were rushing passed them now, eager to get a good seat for the ceremony soon to commence.

As the night grew stronger, it could be seen that the hermit was glowing slightly.



“Welcome honored guests. We are gathered here under the Hidden Luna, to change leadership from one to another. Just as Luna changes, so must we.”

Father Barosh, in his official capacity as Senior Emissary of the Sun, bestows the gift to the New Moon Mother as part of the ceremony. Earlier in the month, he had presided over the Coronation of the New Sun. It was a special duty of the Senior Emissary to bear a gift and to witness the ceremonies when they both occur in the same month.

Father Barosh and Apprentice Caden witness the peaceful turnover from old moon to new (coronation of the Moon mother). He had been present for the last four change overs occurring at the same time as the Challenge (24 years). [Dialogue here should foreshadow radiation discovery, and deterioration of the relationship between Sun and Moon]

***Five years pass***

He ran toward the sunset, toward Death.

Witches had flown out of the sky an hour after sunset, when even the last light of the Holy Sun was gone.

With no warning they overthrew the defenses and ransacked the temple. They flew among the columns and the rooms open to the air. Amber was depleted defending the temple, but losses among the witches were few. No one expected the witches to attack this temple! There was no cause! It was a quiet place, away from the mainstream, just full of hermits.

The Invisible Sun

He had dangerous knowledge, knowledge that would tip the balance in the Sun’s favor even more. His life was forfeit every night. In order to survive, he must find safe places, and workarounds for not being able to call on the sun in shade or shadow, and later on during the darkest nights. Stolen pieces of amber and sunflower seeds help. Sun magic can only be done while in sunlight.

He saw them. Witches in the sky. He ran. As he ran, his mind flashed back to his fever dream. He had been out in the sun too long, become delirious, but in his delirium, he realized that the sun must give out invisible rays that make it through the clouds and other barriers. These invisible rays could be used by those who knew of them. They gave even greater power to the sun mages. This is the knowledge that would cost him his life if the witches and warlocks found him.

He comes across a small village, where a mother is ready to give birth. He hides nearby and listens as he recovers and hydrates.

“Hurry! It’s almost noon!”

The midwife was an island of calm. “Nature must take its course, good sir. We cannot deliver the baby early or late, but only on time.” The hermit nodded, unseen. Countless stories are told of what happens if babies are forcibly born early or late. No power. The Sun does not like being played with.

Another male tried to cheer up the expectant father. “Maybe the witch was wrong? We can hope, right?”

The father-to-be stared at the stick. The stick’s shadow slowly disappeared. He yelled through the doorway to the midwife, “I don’t care what you have to do but get that baby out now!”

“Push!”

“Ahhh!”

The high-pitched cry of a newborn babe came through the doorway. “Waa! Waa!”

“It’s a girl.” He let out the breath he had been holding longer than he realized.

His friend sighed. “Ah geez. All that effort for nothing! A girl! During the day even! What a waste.”

“Uh-uh.” The father said nothing more as he paced back and forth, waiting to see his new child.

“Damn. An Untouched. Maybe you can marry her off?”

The father’s face told a different story. “I will love her, of course.”

The infant is brought out. He holds the precious bundle in his arms. “She is perfect. Not a boy, but she is already my heart and soul.” He smiled while his best friend scowled. “We will call her Anna.”

The hermit wasted some of his power and gave a blessing of invigoration and growth to the new child. She would be powerless, because women were not blessed with power from the Sun, and the moon was not in the sky, but she would be strong and healthy.

The Hermit continued running. He hoped to make it to neutral ground. A stone marker caught his eye. It was half-buried in the dirt by the roadside. He rubbed his hand over the carving depicting a bundle of reeds.

He was headed in the right direction.

He limped along, digging deep into his reserves to find the strength to continue.

Shadows appeared in the trees on either side of him. Unnatural shadows. They paced him, angling to intercept him before he reached his goal.

He limped faster.



The Place of the Reeds

He collapsed on the cold stones.

The shadows howled, but they dared not touch him now. Defeated, they slinked toward the large temple to the west.

He rested there on the stones, enjoying the chill they brought to his bones.

He knew where he was. He was on the Avenue of the Skies. It was a broad pathway of large stones that ran east to west, with a Temple of the Sun at the East end of the pathway and a Temple of the Moon at the west end. Smaller pyramids for the other powers in the sky were on either side of him, lining the pathway between the two large temples at the ends. The Sun temple ruins to his left was larger than all the other temples combined. This was the Place of Reeds, an ancient set of ruins built long ago.

The ruins are neutral ground, where meetings used to be held between followers of the Sun and followers of the Moon. The hermit remembered his training. The original builders are unknown but assumed to be Sun worshippers because of the pyramids, which followers of the moon do not build. Many believe that Followers of the Sun built the entire place as a peace offering.

The ruins were originally signified by carved images of a bundle of reeds tied together with a cord. The original name has been long lost. It has long been referred to as the Place of Reeds. It is thought that the carvings signified it was a good place for growing food and that many people were welcome.



Eclipse

The Day mages were charged with anger. “Chase the witches all the way to the ocean if you have to!”

First rule of war: Choose the battlefield. They ‘retreated’ toward the shore, toward the ocean.

The witches knew. They were in touch with the phases of the moon. They knew what was coming. The Heliomancers only cared that the sun would rise each day.

The Old Moon, the Moon Aunts and the soon-to-be Moon Mother led the fight.

The water crashed further inland, wiping out part of the solar forces. The moon mother’s knowledge of the tides had helped even the fight.

Three more Day mages charged the lines with fire in their eyes. They yelled louder and louder and blew themselves up, taking out a dozen witches on the southern flank.

All eyes were drawn toward the heavens. The skies grew dark as the Almighty Sun, the sun that always shines, was blocked and overpowered by the ever-changing Moon. Day turned into Night. The fireballs stopped. Men wept openly and were without power.

Did the witches and warlocks manage the inconceivable, stopping Luna in her tracks to overpower the sun? 

End

The Killing Parts is available for purchase!

09 JUN 2019

I did it again! I have a new short story for sale. This makes the fourth short story I've written and released on my own. I even made the cover too. My wife usually helps me out with those. Go and get it! It's less than a dollar! The story is a mix of small town feel, fantasy and horror. Think not quite Pet Sematary but close, with a more fantasy feel to it. 

Here is the link and the description:

The Killing Parts

A funeral in the small town of Pine Bend leads to a disturbing chain of events as a grieving father becomes obsessed with finding a cure, for Death! How far would you go to protect the ones you love from the Grim Reaper? Read what happens when Man mucks around with the primal forces of Life and Death.

An excerpt from The Killing Parts:
One door swung open and a wild mane of black hair popped out. “Hello, Cousin! Hello! No need for all that. Come in, come in! I’ve done it!” A frenzied look filled the pair of brown sunken eyes. “I’ve perfected every parent’s dream. Frigg’s Pledge!”

Early reviews are in:
“..,dramatic and petrifying!”
“There's nothing more I can say than ‘Wow’”
“A brilliant page-turner!”
"In The Killing Parts, one wonders where reality ends and fantasy takes over."
"I still have enough good sense to recognize talent when I see it. Welcome to an emule (imitator) of Stephen King."

For the picture from today, since I shared the cover yesterday, here is another picture from the same set of pictures that the cover came from: 

I believe this is the arch above the same church entrance pictured on the cover of The Killing Parts. I love abstract stuff and this picture hits that for me.

Go and buy my new short story!

New Release: The Legacy

09 OCT 2018

It's finally here! My latest short story, The Legacy, is available over at Amazon. My wife Cheryl did an amazing cover. I love it! Totally fits the feel of the piece. Pictures for today are the cover, a sneak peek inside the story and a picture of me to celebrate!

Here is the link and the blurb: The Legacy -It's only 99 cents!

“Hurry Reynard! It's poor Anna. She's fallen into the lake!"

On a frightening winter evening, three witches chase after their eldest sister Anna. Reynard the Hunter dives into the frigid waters in a vain attempt to rescue her, but the hole ices over. Anna and her would-be rescuer are gone.

Family members, including Anna’s lost son August, return home for the wake, only to find a power struggle rages among the sisters, both living and ... dead? Power in this family of witches and warlocks is handed down, but if neither Beth nor August received Anna’s legacy, where did it go? Is the old witch truly dead or did she have some witchcrafty tricks up her sleeves?
******

Besides that, there is all sorts of stuff going on in this story. Magic aplenty of course, but a lot of family bonding too, most of it good. Here is a screenshot of the story as I was finishing it off: 

Nice good stuff in there. This was originally released as part of a winter anthology, Back then it was only around 6,000 words. Lots of new added material all throughout the story. 

And here's a picture of me to celebrate!

What are you doing right now? Do you have a buck? Go get my new story! Thank you in advance. :)

An Adumbrance Betwixt the Light and the Dark - A short story

An Adumbrance Betwixt the Light and the Dark

In a ghostly realm where shadows are formidable, and arguing influences of light and dark constantly dance, a beam of brilliance pierced through the ever-present cloud cover and hit the granite ground, which sizzled at the intense touch. The ghoulish patches of cropped grass wilted and burned. Nearby things of black and gray fled, yelping and howling as they galloped, dug, slithered and flew away from the harshness. One wrapped herself in darkness and joined the protective shadow of a nearby outcropping. Gray farseers atop the nearby hills emplaced tinted lenses on their orbs and analyzed this new phenomenon. They witnessed a man striding down the beam, perambulating toward the surface. The stranger was light of everything -clothes, skin, hair, eyes. An alabaster masterpiece. He even glowed slightly, though whether the light was from the man or the beam on which he strode was a matter of debate among the seers. Whichever the case, he was blinding to gaze at.

A sudden eclipse occurred as a large, blind, flying Thing encountered the beam of light and both were extinguished. The man fell the remaining distance to the surface, a tumbling star, as the realm returned to its natural level of twilight.

He pulsed on the ground, looking to all who saw as if he were an immense lightning bug, a beacon winking away in search of a mate. To all who could not see his light, his presence was warm and intriguing. Small points of light floated on a current of air in his direction.

He heard scuttling noises in the dark as he groaned and tried to sit up.

Silvery threads shot out from the surrounding landscape. A pair of large black spiders came into view from inky pools of shadow and crisscrossed hunting webs over his prone form, seeking to wrap him up in their stickiness.

The light stranger struggled to burn the webbing but could not keep up with the threads. He was soon tied up on the hard ground. The nightmarish spiders advanced, their mandibles making audible clacking noises.

Another piece of darkness, about the size of a person, broke away from the blackest shadows of a nearby outcropping of rock. It was a woman, dressed in draping fabrics of gray. She clicked and clacked, drawing the attention of the spiders. She threw up her arms and spread wide her cloak, which expanded to a great size and rippled with lights and darks like the ground under a leafy tree that shakes in the gusts of a hot summer day.

The spiders clicked and clacked. Then they turned and scurried away in search of easier prey.

The dark stranger dropped her cloak and approached the light being from the sky.

He had almost freed himself from the tangle of spiderwebs. His clothes however, were much grayer now with their substance. And his right leg was noticeably dimmer than the rest of him. And when he finally stood, it was easy to see the leg was indeed injured from the fall. He stood awkwardly, looking at her as he tried to remove the remaining webbing. He seemed unafraid, even with everything that had happened.

She held her hand in front of her face. “Dim yourself, sir. There are many here who feed on brilliance, as you almost found out first-hand.”

He concentrated and looked down at his outstretched hands. His light waned. He returned her look. “Who are you?”

“I am called Chia. Chia Ross-curo.”

“I am Epifanio. I have come to learn the secrets of darkness.”

She glanced around at the landscape, feeling many eyes upon the pair of them. She shook her head. He was still too bright.

“I cannot hide you, even within my umbra. You emanate much. Follow me, maybe we can hide in yonder shelter.” She pointed to the left.

He saw nothing and said as much.

“Your light blinds you.”

“The Light is my life! I cannot lower it any further. To do so would be to risk my death!”

“To not is to risk both our lives.” She raised an arm and covered him with a portion of her expansive cloak.

He was astonished at the clarity with which he now saw their surroundings. It was as if everything were outlined in a halo or glow. Their destination was obvious now: a small stone structure at the shore of an inkjet lake. He tried to look closer but the image shook and blurred in and out of focus.

He uncovered himself from the cloak. “Why adumbrate when you can elucidate?” He waved his hand and a blast of light flooded shot forth and illuminated the entire valley.

“NO!” she screamed.

*********************

Another response to the Two Word Tuesday over at Our Write Side. Adumbrate was the word. It means to foreshadow. I ran with it. Hope you enjoy it. This is my wheelhouse right here, the sort of stuff I really like to write. Sort of like Jack of Shadows from Roger Zelazny.

Picture for today: 

Maybe a future scene in the story?

Pirates & Demons!

12 OCT 17
I just hit submit and uploaded the cover and document files to Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) for the Ice Pirates story, now titled

Pirates & Demons: Eye of Dog

Amazon says it may take up to 72 hours before it hits the market and boy am I already going stir crazy waiting for it to drop!!!!!

The short story features a cover drawn by Felicity Swan: 

The cover depicts a key moment in the story when the captain and crew face off against one of their own, who has been possessed by a demon from legend! Felicity read a portion of the story and captured it well. Easy to work with, she produced the artwork by the deadline and created great areas for the title and my name at the bottom! Thanks Felicity! If you look closely, you can see her signature at the bottom right corner. 

The whole process of KDP was pretty easy. From start to finish it took only a few hours to complete the whole process, and that includes going back in and creating chapters and chapter titles.

Pirates & Demons fits into my fantasy world at a time when the New Lands are being settled and explored. Sort of like the wild frontier days in the United States before, during and after the thirteen colonies as various countries explored the New World. Desperate people are making the hazardous ocean voyage hoping to start fresh in the New Lands. But there are dangers everywhere, even on the trip to get there! The story will appeal to lovers of fantasy, sea stories and exploration. Here is the description: 

Pulp Fiction for the Fantasy crowd!

A quiet day during a long ocean voyage turns into a deadly chase as pirate ships appear on the horizon. Passengers and crew band together in a desperate attempt to save their ship from the dreaded Ice Pirates. But all is not as it seems as pirates aren’t the only danger on the high seas, and one of the passengers hides a dangerous secret. 

I am so excited to finally have a short story released directly to the public. Who doesn't like pirates and demons? I have sold several short stories to various anthologies and ready to move on to bigger and better things. I have been working on and off on a long trilogy, but I love short stories and I have many more short stories in me before those book length tales gets published. In fact, I am currently waiting on a fall story to be republished, a collection to be released that will contain five stories of mine as well as other authors' stories, including several by my wife, AND another story is still out there sitting with a publisher waiting to be released. 

Picture for today: My sketch of what I pictured for the cover. It's not complete, but it is supposed to show a lightning strike on the deck of the ship, with crew and passengers nearby. One day I may get someone to finish this. 

Well, that's all for today. Feeling pretty accomplished! 

Ice Pirates III

22 July 17 Draft Finished!

I'm putting the Ice Pirates story off to the side for a week or two, letting it marinate and see how it ages. It's a good first draft, just over 8,000 words. Finished in a marathon late-night session a few days ago. I had a sudden burst of 'Let's get this done!' 

I've sent the draft out to a few Beta readers to get some feedback, including my wife, though the genre is not her style. I really appreciate her input. Also had a good review session on Skype with one of the readers from the Creative Writers Facebook group. 

When I pick the story up again and apply any edits the final draft will probably be somewhere between 9-10K. Too big for the original outlet I was going to send it to, so I'll see about farming it out to other publishers. Might even make this my first Kindle Direct novel. 

Although I don't write with a certain mood or influence in mind, upon reflection, I hope the piece has a Fifth Element feel to it: some adventure, some comedy (in this case through the character Cheeks), some wow factor in there too. I look forward to writing some more stories involving Sea Dog, Cheeks, Winder, and Captain Connor as well. Got a good little crew there. I thought I would have more fun writing the pirates but it turned out I enjoyed the regular sailors more. Well, regular is a relative term in this case. :)

For those aspiring writers out there, steps to remember when writing: 
1. Write a complete first draft. This step is the hardest sometimes!
2. Give your story to a few readers to look over. Whether you have an editor or just some good friends, every writer misses something.
3. Put your writing aside for a few days. This can be done over the same time input from your readers is coming in. This gives your brain some time to subconsciously work on your story.
4. Review any inputs from your readers and then read your story again. Read with a fresh set of eyes and those inputs from your readers.
5. Incorporate any changes or inputs that you agree with from your readers and any new ideas you have. Notice I didn't say just add in any inputs from your readers. It's your story! You're the final say on what goes in there.


Time to take a little break from writing and get back to my day job. Going to see what inspiration hits me after that. Good luck to all the writers out there! Maybe I'll do a little drawing next. My daughters like to draw, they inspire me to do some doodling again. They are both better than I am, by the way. 

Good luck to all, happy creating!

Picture for today: Santa Pirate!

Incarceration is Now Available!

20MAY17 

"Predictive policing my ass."

Happy Saturday! I have wonderful news to share. The Last Horn, my latest story is now available in the Incarceration anthology from Wolfsinger Publications, for sale through Smashwords and CreateSpace! Go get it now at a discount using the following codes:

Smashwords: Incarceration on sale at Smashwords 

- use code: XJ86G to receive a 25% discount on Incarceration – 25% discount is only good through 5/31/17

CreateSpace here: Incarceration on sale at CreateSpace - use code: 9HW5GHYR to receive a 25% discount – 25% discount is only good through 5/31/17.

The anthology features seventeen futuristic stories about capturing and punishing people for the crimes they commit. My story includes the following future tech:
Auto License Plate Detection? ✔

Facial recognition? ✔
Punitive comas? ✔?
Other new tech to make bad guys pay for their crimes? ✔✔✔

Here is a preview:

The rookie read out loud from his phone, “E-COP, the latest software in predictive policing, also known as computer-based crime analytics. E-COP is intended to enhance, not replace, the feet on the beat.” 
“Get it in your head now, Parkinson. No box is ever going replace a badge. Predictive policing my ass. Just means they can reduce the force and spend the money on computers and geeks instead.” He took another sip of coffee.


Picture for today is the great cover for the anthology. 

New Short Story - The Legacy

I have a new short story released out into the wild! Woot Woot!

You can get it now for 25% off over at www.createspace.com/7040219

Enter in the discount code: 9HW5GHYR to receive a 25% discount on purchases. This code is valid for this month ONLY!

My wife Cheryl Toner has a story in the anthology also. Hers is a murder mystery, a murder most foul, in the Pentagon of all places! All the tales in the anthology revolve around or take place during the winter.

My story is called The Legacy, and deals with what happens when an ancient witch, the eldest of five magical sisters, dies. Here's a taste:

“Well, that’s it then.” Destra said as they helped each other get back on their feet. She was always the practical one. She hugged her stomach and hung her head, still shivering. “Anna’s gone.”

Twilight was soon replaced by the stars and coruscating colors of the northern lights. The three old witches shuffled back indoors. Anna and her would-be rescuer never surfaced.

The arctic air grew colder by the second. A keening noise ran away, out into the darkening and was joined by wolves howling deep and long in the night. That sad susurration traveled far and wide through all the lands. Those who were able to hear the Death Knell knew what it signified. The eldest had passed. The entire family would mourn tonight.

Well, what are you waiting for? Go buy it!

And feel free to share this post shamelessly across all social media platforms my homies! lol

Picture today is of a woman dying, and much like in my story, she is releasing something as her last act, something precious flying its way to her eldest son. His legacy.

Guest Post over at Our Write Side

04 MAR 17: The good folks over at Our Write Side were kind enough to ask for a guest post on the writing process.  I gave it some due thought and the whole shebang is posted over on their site:

My post over at Our Write Side

The post is about how I write short stories. I am actually going to write the tale detailed in the article (The War of the Woods) when I get a chance. It is indeed one that is in the hopper for development. It was pretty cool to do the whole 'how do I get from point A to point B' when writing something. Never really done that before. 

Picture for today, a beautiful, mystical elephant. Will he turn into a story? Who knows what the future may hold.