Flash Friday #35

Keyboard Warrior

Ash picked up his spear. He had never held one before. In fact, he was born just a moment ago as the recruitment queue finished. He had been gestating for thirty seconds.

In all, it was a good life. He had free time as he stood outside the barracks. The sun was shining. Ash couldn’t see where it was in the sky, only that it was bright, and that meant the sun was shining.

A worker smiled at him as she carried gold in a bucket. She was beautiful like the missing sun. Ash smiled back. He wasn’t sure she had seen, as the dropped the bucket of gold off at the headquarters.

That was a busy building. So much coming and going. She had an important job, feeding the machinery of state.

Ash wanted to stay. To smile at her as she returned to do whatever came next for her. But it was not to be. Orders came down from on high, and Ash found himself marching away against his will.

It was sad to march away from his home, but he wasn’t alone. Five more spearmen marched with him. One of them was a grizzled veteran. That one had seen war.

War. Somehow Ash knew the word, and the meaning. He also knew that war was his job, what he was made for. Ash looked at his spear. That spear was as much a part of his and his own hand. He couldn’t have dropped it if he wanted.

They marched through their civilization, but as they neared the border, there were fewer farms and workers. Watchtowers dotted the horizon and soldiers moved back and forth, seemingly at random. Their little squad came to a rest on the edge of a hill.

Ash looked to the others and smiled. He would fight. That’s all he knew. He would fight for that smiling worker. The other spearmen smiled with him. It was the same smile, the same face. Only the veteran didn’t share their enthusiasm. War had hardened the man, it seemed. But that didn’t make him right.

Intelligence came. The enemy had been spotted. Ash readied himself. Their foe had come far, but they would not make it past him. His nations walls were alive.

A red tank rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill. Its armor was thick. The gun was leveled straight at them.

Before he knew it, Ash was in a headlong sprint towards the lumbering beast. They all were. It was all the could do. The tank fired its first round at them and it fell short. What were the odds? Ash wasn’t sure if there was a god, but he felt some force looking over him, willing him on.

The second round hurt. Terribly. Two of the spearmen were dead, and Ash felt he had lost about seventy points of damage. They hit the tank in a wave. Moments passed, and another spearman fell to the tan’s mighty rounds.

Ash fought with all his heart, but his attacks weren’t doing much to hurt fearsome metal beast. Not even the veteran, who fought on despite his scars, was doing much to it.

Another moment, and another spearman was dead, then another. It was just Ash and the veteran, and then it was just Ash.

He fought with a fury, stabbing every two seconds. The tank’s gun drooped and its treads were fitting poorly. He could do this. And then he saw it, the chink in the armor. He stabbed there and broke the beast. It exploded and died a piteous death.

Alone, Ash made the walk back home. He thought of the smiles his fellows had had, and the look on the veteran.

Suddenly, he found himself back at base, watching the workers buzz around him. He had been promoted. One of them smiled at him, but he couldn’t smile anymore.

The Quest #33

One up one down. Not up to the number of queries I want but not falling behind. I changed my query letter up a little but just a sentence or two here and there.

I’ve continued to write a thousand words a day. The only days this year I haven’t written that much have been weekends and days when I finished a chapter (having done most of the day’s writing).

The past few weeks I have been very distracted in my writing. I keep coming up with new stories and creating little story guides for them. I think I have about five. I feel bad about getting pulled all these ways as I think I should be more focused on one story. I’m currently 60 pages into the YA book. I’ll keep plugging away, I guess. That would be the best way to settle down. Maybe I’m just feeling creative because I’m doing something new.

Clarity will come.

Thanks for reading,

Michael

Flash Friday #34

Eggs

Starving, the two men looked at the large egg sat out in the open on the rocks. It had a pale-yellow color and was the size of their heads. It sat there, bold as brass. There were no signs of damage on the egg. No crack or yoke leaking out.

It was just an egg out in the open.

“Maybe a condor, or another big bird,” the first man said.

“There’s no nest,” the second countered. His stomach gurgled. Since escaping prison the previous day, the men had not had anything to eat.

They were starving, but the large egg in the open puzzled them. They were wary, as though a large glowing sign told them that an inn had free food, a warm bed, and a prostitute too.

“It doesn’t need a nest,” said the first. “It could have dropped. It could have been laid out here by the mom who decided to just keep going. I don’t know.”

The second laid a hand on his fellow. They were hungry, terribly so, but something here was not right. “It could be lizard,” he offered. “Something big and mean like a crocodile. Momma is around here somewhere and will rip us apart.”

The first man snorted. “A crocodile? Here in the mountains? You’re imagining things.”

“Ok, fine. A snake then. A big one.”

“A big snake? That’s less likely than the crocodile. They need heat or something.”

The second man scoffed. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on all reptiles. It could be a snake. Snakes can live in mountains you know.”

The first man crossed his arms. “Listen, a big snake needs big prey. And there is nothing up here that can feed it.”

“Mountain goats…and us,” the man said.

The egg wobbled. A fragment fell off. Then men stopped arguing. Something was stirring in the egg. It knocked another segment free. There was something different from eating an egg to eating a newly hatched thing.

 But they were starving, so the men crept forward, eager. They could hear the creature knocking against its egg, struggling to come forward. It squealed and the paused. Only for a moment. Hunger pushed them on.

Something slid out of the egg and curled up on the stones. It was blue. The men stood over it. Scales. Wings?

“A dragon?” said the first man.

“Yeah,” said the second.

A shadow fell over them.

Reading 2!

Alright. I’ve posted four more chapters of Howl. I’ve got to get the full manuscript together and posted on my patreon before I post more chapters. I’ll get on it this week.

I am also planning two series on fantasy fiction to post on this site. First is called The River that Dances. This is a series about a young god trying to sort out his relationship to the world, with humans and gods threatening his position. I’ve already written the first part, childhood, which could be a regular posting. Right not the structure is that of a fairytale. I’ve always liked fairytales and myths. But the story also mixes in a fair amount of violence as is proper for myths and legends. He is, after all, a god learning morality.

The second series is called The Prince of White and Black. This is a swords and sorcery fantasy, though it is low magic. This is a series of medieval fantasy. I have plans for what could be three books worth of material. Could be a long running web series. Naturally, I have to edit the whole thing, but I plan to have that up and going for next time too.

So if you end up liking what you read on my site, please spread the word to readers you know. Word of mouth is the only good advertisement.

Thank you for reading,

Michael

Flash Friday #33

Abduction 2

To be in the vanguard of the grand imperial armada was to have a heart of a quasar. Only the toughest of the imperial could serve in the advanced ships. It meant being prepared to abduct lifeforms and break them.

Never once had Rrglin questioned his duty. His people were trapped in the stars, forced to move forward. They consumed planets. This next one would serve as an important refueling. Hydrogen and oxygen. This planet had much.

Take individuals of the dominant species, break them through torture. Weaken the planet by infiltrating this species. Prepare them for the fall.

Rrglin had the newest ruler bound to the chair in the torture chamber. His ship hovered around the fourth planet in the system, a ruddy planet with not enough water around the poles. It was a sad and empty place, but the ruling species would not be able to detect him out there.

He sighed, and entered the room. The species was sat in the chair, wavering. Without saying a word Rrglin circled the chamber, letting the thing stew in its discomfort. Thin, with yellow hair, the creature was one of billions which ruled the pitiful third world.

Completing his circle, Rrglin looked to the thing, shivering in the thin atmosphere. “I have made this room fit your atmosphere. And your temperature,” he said. “It is the last kindness you will receive.”

He walked over to a drawer and pulled out his instruments. Sharp, dangerous things. Many lower life forms offered him everything he wanted to know just on seeing them. Of course, he had to use them regardless. Understanding the internal workings of a creature was necessary for the second stage of the invasion.

“I am impressed with you,” he said, pulling a serated blade from the tray and showing it to his victim. “You have conquered your world and raised a mighty civilization. Your children are on every continent. You suffer no rival. You have even made pets for your comfort. Again, impressive. The life of luxury that I have watched you live as made it all to easy for your capture. Do you regret it?”

His prisoner was silent. Afraid, most likely.

“I’m not surprised. Who is your leader?”

Nothing.

“How do you communicate?”

The things wavered but was silent.

Rrglin shook his head. “I see. Perhaps you are wise enough to know that nothing you say will save you. I will cut you regardless. Your screams will not frighten me. Nor will they save you.”

Tied to the chair, the sprig of wheat quivered.

The Quest #32

Three up, none down. Now we’re talking, getting back into the swing of querying. It is a long, slow process. No sense in stopping.

A long time ago I wrote down a bunch of ideas for books that I had plots for. It was this grand plan. I have only written one of those books, the rest coming to me spontaneously as a new idea came to me and captured my imagination.

My last two completed things have been the first chapter to two different stories. One s the YA book I mentioned earlier and the other is a fantasy adventure with convicts. Additionally I had another idea this week that intrigues me. I’ve started writing an outline for it. I’ve started a sequel to my ‘cozy’ fantasy, but stopped five chapters in as I get dragged away by other stories. Finally there is a novella I started about American businessmen. I didn’t have a good idea of the tone and dropped that one. I should get back into it.

I think it’s fair to say I’m a little distracted. Time to focus up. I will go with the YA and then the sequel because it might make querying the first book easier if I have a second. Maybe I should add that in the query.

Thank you for reading,

Michael.

Flash Friday #32 (oops)

Abduction

I was abducted by aliens.

It’s been about three months since. They’ve fed me, gave me my own room, and have left me alone. Really. They haven’t done anything to me, except kidnap me and drag me across the world. I even have free reign of the ship. They just look at me funny when I walk around.

Each of them has two heads, a red one and a purple one, which are stuck on long necks that can look around corners. It’s unsettling.

I had been at home in Arkansas, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed when a brilliant flash of light struck me. Boom, I was here.

I spent those first few days terrified, huddled in a corner, fending them off. But when they didn’t hurt me, offering me food, I figured that they must have some other reason for taking me. I hadn’t found out what it was.

I was just, sort of, a ghost. Or a pet. The food they gave me was earth food, but it looked like it was just grabbed from a grocery store. Unfortunately, it seems they missed the spice shelves. I’ve eaten hunks of cooked unseasoned meat. It’s rough. I’m surviving, but the things I’ve done to what I hope are the toilets…well, it’s better if I don’t say.

There are windows, and looking out I just see the void of space. I don’t see anything I recognize, but I never knew much about the stars. I mean, if Jupiter were right out the window I could say where I was, but not this. I don’t know any constellations except for the Big Dipper, and I didn’t see that out my window.

Well, if I was going to be stuck here, might as well find out what my fate was to be. I mustered my courage, sinched up my belt, and went on my way to the halls where the aliens were. They seemed to like certain parts of the ship.

I went in front of one of them (or was it two of theme, with the two heads and all), planted my feet and told them in no uncertain terms how things were going to be.

“Um…excuse me…Mr. Alien. My name is Doug and if it is not too much of a hassle, I was hoping you might tell me what is going on and if maybe you might be able to return me to my home,” I declared.

“We needed you,” the thing said in perfect English.

“How do you know English?” I asked, momentarily flummoxed.

“We watch TV.”

“Oh. Right. Well…can you send me home?”

“No,” both heads said, shaking. “We need you.”

“For what?”

The alien looked at me gravely. “For access to the faster hyper lane route. We need five sentient beings to go and you technically count, even though you can’t get beyond your moon and have never seen the color Veroigiblook.”

“You stole me to use a carpool lane?”

The alien smiled and patted me on the back. “You get it. This way is faster. We get to the concert on time.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “Can you take me back after?”

“Why would you want to,” the alien said. “Because of relativity, everyone you knew will be dead. Might as well keep going.” 

“What!” I was devastated. Everything I had ever known gone just like that. “What concert is so important that you would kidnap me from my home to get to!”

The alien pulled out a shirt. I recognized the figure. “David Bowie,” we said together.

“Alright,” I said. “Worth it.” 

Reading!

Alright. I have added three works to the site. Not complete ones, but parts. All the things I have attached are in PDF form, which I’m not crazy about, but at least it keeps my name on them. The PDF reader doesn’t look to be great on WordPress. If it proves to be too annoying, I might change, but for now I like the security it gives in having my name on my work. The three books are as follows.

The Ring of Dain Thar Duin. The first book I wrote. An epic fantasy epic poem, it is about greed, life, god, love, war. All good things. I have only posted three of the books, with the invocation. You can find them here, I have been turning this into an audio book that is available for free on Youtube, but I will be moving it off that platform once I finish editing it and getting my ducks in a row.

The Worth of a Stone. This is the book I have been trying to get an agent for, the one referenced in the Quest. I posted only the first three chapters, which should give a good sense of where that book is going. You can read it here. I think it is a cozy fantasy, though not one that fits lock-step with the genre. Read and make up your own mind.

Howl. This was the first novel I wrote and it is a grimdark fantasy. Some rough things happen in it, so if that’s not your speed no trouble. I’ve posted the first eight chapters and I will get the others up shortly. The last two chapters will be available on Patreon. Read Howl here.

In all, I think I posted some 150,000 odd words. I don’t know, I didn’t count. If you find a story you like, please tell the readers you know about it. The only real advertising is word of mouth.

There is another project or two that I plan to serialize on the site, but I didn’t get to them in time. Maybe next time.

Happy reading,

Michael

Flash Friday #31

Bridge

Cold mist obscured the other end of the swaying bridge. Mountain winds blew against the creaking wood, shivering the bridge. The stone was slick with water. A small group of men stood on the outcropping, looking into the mist. The crouched against the boulders to hide from the wind, and from what was coming up the track behind them. They held fast to the stones, fearing a slip. Hungry, desperate, but not brave enough to walk out over the creaking bridge first.

With them were five mules, each loaded with gold and silver, wrought and unwrought. The animals hadn’t complained at the load they carried high into the mountains. They had marched on with their surly looks, led on by the muleteer, Pancho. The affable man stood wrapped in his coat, his wide brimmed hat dewing from the mist.  

The leader of the men snarled as he looked across. “An extra share to the first man across.” He was a large man, tall and well-muscled. Men of this sort were always leading something; it was their nature.

His men balked. They had already been promised many extra shares, and a simple calculation suggested that a further extra share amounted to two coins. One silver and one gold. Those men of a suspicious temperament were beginning to suspect that the shares would never be dolled out. That they would be killed so that the shares returned to the pot. These men kept their knives close.

“Come on then. Who’s going to prove themselves a man and go? Come on!” Their leader raised his horsewhip. The men cowered.

Pancho didn’t. He spat out his sunflower seeds. The shells were picked up and lost in the wind. That drew the ire of the leader.

“Alright. You, man. Get your mules across.”

Pancho shrugged. “I can’t.” He reached into his pocket and drew the last few seeds he had. He ate them. “A mule is as smart as a man. Look in their eyes. If you can’t get a man over, how are you going to get a mule over?” He spoke through the seeds, spitting them out as he finished.

The leader walked right up to Pancho, horsewhip raised. “You’re either getting the mules across, or you are falling down this mountain.”

Pancho blinked. This leader was a good foot taller than him, and Pancho was not as gifted with muscles. He spat out the last of the seeds, then shrugged. “Alright, boss.”

A couple seeds landed in the leader’s mustache. Pancho decided it was better to get moving than getting whipped to death. He grabbed the lead mule’s reins. The animal dug its feet into the stones.

“Lala, don’t play games with me,” Pancho said gently, aware that a large and muscled shadow hovered right behind him. “Let’s go across, you and all the girls. I’ll be with you. We cross the bridge and it will be oats for you.”

The mule blinked, doubtful. But when Pancho tugged again, she took a step. The other mules followed, tied together. Their gold and silver jingled.

Pancho tried a tepid step onto the bridge. The wet wood held. Taking a deep breath, he muttered a prayer and started across. The mules followed. Their weight steadied the swaying bridge, and though it creaked and shivered, it held.

They reached the other side after what proved to be a short walk. Back on ground again, Pancho let out a cry of victory. His mules, likewise, brayed. The sound echoed across the mountains.

Victorious, Pancho gave oats to his mules, then went to the bridge to see his fellows cross. Standing at the edge, he saw that one of the ropes holding the whole thing together was fraying, holding on by a prayer.

“Lucky,” Pancho said. “This whole thing is ready to fall apart.

“Pancho?” came a shout through the mists.

“Yes!” he shouted back. “I am across. The bridge is in back condition. Maybe you shouldn’t cross until I fix it.” He had some spare rope, and if he worked gingerly enough, it could secure the passage.

“Like hell!” the leader shouted. “He’s trying to get away with our gold. After him.”

There was a great shout. The bridge trembled with the weight of feet. The men yelled as they charged. The rope snapped with a twang.

At once, one the left half of the bridge collapsed and the bridge flipped over. The yells turned to screams. Several wet thumps echoed up the mountainside.

Pancho peered into the grey mist. All the world was hidden from him. All but his five mules and the right side of the bridge holding on. The great weight of treasure jingled as the mules ate.

“Boss?” Pancho called. “I have the gold over here. Boss?”

There was no answer. The wind whispered mournfully.

The Quest #31

One up, one down. So it goes. Back at means getting the rejections back. This last agent had a little box to write why I chose to query her specifically. I wrote something, but I didn’t say the truth. Desperation. I want an agent for this book. I want this book traditionally published.

Got to keep grinding away.

On another note, next week I will be posting a few books onto here. These are books I don’t plan to publish, and the first few chapters of one which I am self-publishing. I will have info about each of the books posted next week. Lots of this stuff has not been edited, so there will be errors.

I ask that if you end up reading one and liking it, to tell readers you know about it. The only way this stuff spreads is by word of mouth.

 Stay cool and stay hydrated. Thanks for reading.

The Quest Continues,

Michael Frutig